{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_28901/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_28901","id":"gutenberg_28901","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/28901","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Ethics, Evolutionary","Social ethics"],"text":"The Ethical Library\n\nSOCIAL RIGHTS AND DUTIES\n\nAddresses to Ethical Societies\n\nby\n\nLESLIE STEPHEN\n\nIn Two Volumes\n\nVOL. I.\n\n\n\n\nLondon\nSwan Sonnenschein & Co., Limited\nNew York: MacMillan & Co.\n1896\n\n\n\n\nNOTE.\n\n\nThe following chapters are chiefly a republication of addresses\ndelivered to the Ethical Societies of London. Some have previously\nappeared in the _International Journal of Ethics_, the _National\nReview_, and the _Contemporary Review_. The author has to thank the\nproprietors of these periodicals for their consent to the republication.\n\nL. S.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n                                                     PAGE\n\nTHE AIMS OF ETHICAL SOCIETIES,                          1\n\nSCIENCE AND POLITICS,                                  45\n\nTHE SPHERE OF POLITICAL ECONOMY,                       91\n\nTHE MORALITY OF COMPETITION,                          133\n\nSOCIAL EQUALITY,                                      175\n\nETHICS AND THE STRUGGLE FOR EXISTENCE,                221\n\n\n\n\nTHE AIMS OF ETHICAL SOCIETIES.[1]\n\n\nI am about to say a few words upon the aims of this society: and I\nshould be sorry either to exaggerate or to depreciate our legitimate\npretensions. It would be altogether impossible to speak too strongly of\nthe importance of the great questions in which our membership of the\nsociety shows us to be interested. It would, I fear, be easy enough to\nmake an over-estimate of the part which we can expect to play in their\nsolution. I hold indeed, or I should not be here, that we may be of\nsome service at any rate to each other. I think that anything which\nstimulates an active interest in the vital problems of the day deserves\nthe support of all thinking men; and I propose to consider briefly some\nof the principles by which we should be guided in doing whatever we can\nto promote such an interest.\n\n      [1] Address to West London Ethical Society, 4th December, 1892.\n\nWe are told often enough that we are living in a period of important\nintellectual and social revolutions. In one way we are perhaps inclined\neven to state the fact a little too strongly. We suffer at times from\nthe common illusion that the problems of to-day are entirely new: we\nfancy that nobody ever thought of them before, and that when we have\nsolved them, nobody will ever need to look for another solution. To\nardent reformers in all ages it seems as if the millennium must begin\nwith their triumph, and that their triumph will be established by a\nsingle victory. And while some of us are thus sanguine, there are many\nwho see in the struggles of to-day the approach of a deluge which is to\nsweep away all that once ennobled life. The believer in the old creeds,\nwho fears that faith is decaying, and the supernatural life fading from\nthe world, denounces the modern spirit as materialising and degrading.\nThe conscience of mankind, he thinks, has become drugged and lethargic;\nour minds are fixed upon sensual pleasures, and our conduct regulated\nby a blind struggle for the maximum of luxurious enjoyment. The period\nin his eyes is a period of growing corruption; modern society suffers\nunder a complication of mortal diseases, so widely spread and deeply\nseated that at present there is no hope of regeneration. The best hope\nis that its decay may provide the soil in which seed may be sown of a\nfar-distant growth of happier augury. Such dismal forebodings are no\nnovelty. Every age produces its prophecies of coming woes. Nothing\nwould be easier than to make out a catena of testimonies from great men\nat every stage of the world's history, declaring each in turn that the\ncup of iniquity was now at last overflowing, and that corruption had\nreached so unprecedented a step that some great catastrophe must be\napproaching. A man of unusually lofty morality is, for that reason,\nmore keenly sensitive to the lowness of the average standard, and too\neasily accepts the belief that the evils before his eyes must be in\nfact greater, and not, as may perhaps be the case, only more vividly\nperceived, than those of the bygone ages. A call to repentance easily\ntakes the form of an assertion that the devil is getting the upper\nhand; and we may hope that the pessimist view is only a form of the\ndiscontent which is a necessary condition of improvement. Anyhow, the\ndiametrical conflict of prophecies suggests one remark which often\nimpresses me. We are bound to call each other by terribly hard names. A\ngentleman assures me in print that I am playing the devil's game;\ndepriving my victims, if I have any, of all the beliefs that can make\nlife noble or happy, and doing my best to destroy the very first\nprinciples of morality. Yet I meet my adversary in the flesh, and find\nthat he treats me not only with courtesy, but with no inconsiderable\namount of sympathy. He admits--by his actions and his argument--that\nI--the miserable sophist and seducer--have not only some good impulses,\nbut have really something to say which deserves a careful and\nrespectful answer. An infidel, a century or two ago, was supposed to\nhave forfeited all claim to the ordinary decencies of life. Now I can\nsay, and can say with real satisfaction, that I do not find any\ndifference of creed, however vast in words, to be an obstacle to decent\nand even friendly treatment. I am at times tempted to ask whether my\nopponent can be quite logical in being so courteous; whether, if he is\nas sure as he says that I am in the devil's service, I ought not, as a\nmatter of duty, to be encountered with the old dogmatism and arrogance.\nI shall, however, leave my friends of a different way of thinking to\nsettle that point for themselves. I cannot doubt the sincerity of their\ncourtesy, and I will hope that it is somehow consistent with their\nlogic. Rather I will try to meet them in a corresponding spirit by a\nbrief confession. I have often enough spoken too harshly and vehemently\nof my antagonists. I have tried to fix upon them too unreservedly what\nseemed to me the logical consequences of their dogmas. I have condemned\ntheir attempts at a milder interpretation of their creed as proofs of\ninsincerity, when I ought to have done more justice to the legitimate\nand lofty motives which prompted them. And I at least am bound by my\nown views to admit that even the antagonist from whose utterances I\ndiffer most widely may be an unconscious ally, supplementing rather\nthan contradicting my theories, and in great part moved by aspirations\nwhich I ought to recognise even when allied with what I take to be\ndefective reasoning. We are all amenable to one great influence. The\nvast shuttle of modern life is weaving together all races and creeds\nand classes. We are no longer shut up in separate compartments, where\nthe mental horizon is limited by the area visible from the parish\nsteeple; each little section can no longer fancy, in the old childish\nfashion, that its own arbitrary prejudices and dogmas are parts of the\neternal order of things; or infer that in the indefinite region beyond,\nthere live nothing but monsters and anthropophagi, and men whose heads\ngrow beneath their shoulders. The annihilation of space has made us\nfellows as by a kind of mechanical compulsion; and every advance of\nknowledge has increased the impossibility of taking our little\nchurch--little in comparison with mankind, be it even as great as the\nCatholic Church--for the one pattern of right belief. The first effect\nof bringing remote nations and classes into closer contact is often an\nexplosion of antipathy; but in the long run it means a development of\nhuman sympathy. Wide, therefore, as is the opposition of opinions as to\nwhat is the true theory of the world--as to which is the divine and\nwhich the diabolical element--I fully believe that beneath the war of\nwords and dogmas there is a growth of genuine toleration, and, we must\nhope, of ultimate conciliation.\n\nThis is manifest in another direction. The churches are rapidly making\nat least one discovery. They are beginning to find out that their\nvitality depends not upon success in theological controversy, but upon\ntheir success in meeting certain social needs and aspirations common to\nall classes. It is simply impossible for any thinking man at the\npresent day to take any living interest, for example, in the ancient\ncontroversies. The \"drum ecclesiastic\" of the seventeenth century would\nsound a mere lullaby to us. Here and there a priest or a belated\ndissenting minister may amuse himself by threshing out once more the\nold chaff of dead and buried dogmas. There are people who can argue\ngravely about baptismal regeneration or apostolical succession. Such\ndoctrines were once alive, no doubt, because they represented the form\nin which certain still living problems had then to present themselves.\nThey now require to be stated in a totally different shape, before we\ncan even guess why they were once so exciting, or how men could have\nsupposed their modes of attacking the question to be adequate. The Pope\nand General Booth still condemn each other's tenets; and in case of\nneed would, I suppose, take down the old rusty weapons from the\narmoury. But each sees with equal clearness that the real stress of\nbattle lies elsewhere. Each tries, after his own fashion, to give a\nbetter answer than the Socialists to the critical problems of to-day.\nWe ought so far to congratulate both them and ourselves on the\ndirection of their energies. Nay, can we not even co-operate, and put\nthese hopeless controversies aside? Why not agree to differ about the\nquestions which no one denies to be all but insoluble, and become\nallies in promoting morality? Enormous social forces find their natural\nchannel through the churches; and if the beliefs inculcated by the\nchurch were not, as believers assert, the ultimate cause of progress,\nit is at least clear that they were not incompatible with progress. The\nchurch, we all now admit, whether by reason of or in spite of its\ndogmatic creed, was for ages one great organ of civilisation, and still\nexercises an incalculable influence. Why, then, should we, who cannot\nbelieve in the dogmas, yet fall into line with believers for practical\npurposes? Churches insist verbally upon the importance of their dogma:\nthey are bound to do so by their logical position; but, in reality, for\nthem, as for us, the dogma has become in many ways a mere\nexcrescence--a survival of barren formul\u00e6 which do little harm to\nanybody. Carlyle, in his quaint phrase, talked about the exodus from\nHoundsditch, but doubted whether it were yet time to cast aside the\nHebrew old clothes. They have become threadbare and antiquated. That\ngives a reason to the intelligent for abandoning them; but, also,\nperhaps a reason for not quarrelling with those who still care to\nmasquerade in them. Orthodox people have made a demand that the Board\nSchools should teach certain ancient doctrines about the nature of\nChrist; and the demand strikes some of us as preposterous if not\nhypocritical. But putting aside the audacity of asking unbelievers to\npay for such teaching, one might be tempted to ask, what harm could it\nreally do? Do you fancy for a moment that you can really teach a child\nof ten the true meaning of the Incarnation? Can you give him more than\na string of words as meaningless as magical formul\u00e6? I was brought up\nat the most orthodox of Anglican seminaries. I learned the Catechism,\nand heard lectures upon the Thirty-nine Articles. I never found that\nthe teaching had ever any particular effect upon my mind. As I grew up,\nthe obsolete exuvi\u00e6 of doctrine dropped off my mind like dead leaves\nfrom a tree. They could not get any vital hold in an atmosphere of\ntolerable enlightenment. Why should we fear the attempt to instil these\nfragments of decayed formul\u00e6 into the minds of children of tender age?\nMight we not be certain that they would vanish of themselves? They are\nsuperfluous, no doubt, but too futile to be of any lasting importance.\nI remember that, when the first Education Act was being discussed,\nmention was made of a certain Jew who not only sent his son to a\nChristian school, but insisted upon his attending all the lessons. He\nhad paid his fees, he said, for education in the Gospels among other\nthings, and he meant to have his money's worth. \"But your son,\" it was\nurged, \"will become a Christian.\" \"I,\" he replied, \"will take good care\nof that at home.\" Was not the Jew a man of sense? Can we suppose that\nthe mechanical repetition of a few barren phrases will do either harm\nor good? As the child develops he will, we may hope, remember his\nmultiplication table, and forget his fragments of the Athanasian Creed.\nLet the wheat and tares be planted together, and trust to the superior\nvitality of the more valuable plant. The sentiment might be expressed\nsentimentally as easily as cynically. We may urge, like many sceptics\nof the last century, that Christianity should be kept \"for the use of\nthe poor,\" and renounced in the esoteric creed of the educated. Or we\nmay urge the literary and \u00e6sthetic beauty of the old training, and wish\nit to be preserved to discipline the imagination, though we may reject\nits value as a historical statement of fact.\n\nThe audience which I am addressing has, I presume, made up its mind\nupon such views. They come too late. It might have been a good thing,\nhad it been possible, to effect the transition from old to new without\na violent convulsion: good, if Christian conceptions had been slowly\ndeveloped into more simple forms; if the beautiful symbols had been\nretained till they could be impregnated with a new meaning; and if the\nnew teaching of science and philosophy had gradually percolated into\nthe ancient formul\u00e6 without causing a disruption. Possibly the\nProtestant Reformation was a misfortune, and Erasmus saw the truth more\nclearly than Luther. I cannot go into might-have-beens. We have to deal\nwith facts. A conspiracy of silence is impossible about matters which\nhave been vehemently discussed for centuries. We have to take sides;\nand we at least have agreed to take the side of the downright thinker,\nwho will say nothing that he does not believe, and hide nothing that he\ndoes believe, and speak out his mind without reservation or economy and\naccommodation. Indeed, as things are, any other course seems to me to\nbe impossible. I have spoken, for example, of General Booth. Many\npeople heartily admire his schemes of social reform, and have been\nwilling to subscribe for its support, without troubling themselves\nabout his theology. I will make no objection; but I confess that I\ncould not therefore treat that theology as either morally or\nintellectually respectable. It has happened to me once or twice to\nlisten to expositions from orators of the Salvation Army. Some of them\nstruck me as sincere though limited, and others as the victims of an\noverweening vanity. The oratory, so far as I could hear, consisted in\nstringing together an endless set of phrases about the blood of Christ,\nwhich, if they really meant anything, meant a doctrine as low in the\nintellectual scale as that of any of the objects of missionary\nenterprise. The conception of the transactions between God and man was\napparently modelled upon the dealings of a petty tradesman. The \"blood\nof Christ\" was regarded like the panacea of a quack doctor, which will\ncure the sins of anybody who accepts the prescription. For anything I\ncan say, such a creed may be elevating--relatively: elevating as\nslavery is said to have been elevating when it was a substitute for\nextermination. The hymns of the Army may be better than public-house\nmelodies, and the excitement produced less mischievous than that due to\ngin. But the best that I can wish for its adherents is, that they\nshould speedily reach a point at which they could perceive their\ndoctrines to be debasing. I hope, indeed, that they do not realise\ntheir own meaning: but I could almost as soon join in some old pagan\nceremonies, gash my body with knives, or swing myself from a hook, as\nindulge in this variety of spiritual intoxication.\n\nThere are, it is true, plenty of more refined and intellectual\npreachers, whose sentiments deserve at least the respect due to tender\nand humane feeling. They have found a solution, satisfactory to\nthemselves, of the great dilemma which presses on so many minds. A\nreligion really to affect the vulgar must be a superstition; to satisfy\nthe thoughtful, it must be a philosophy. Is it possible to contrive so\nto fuse the crude with the refined as to make at least a working\ncompromise? To me personally, and to most of us living at the present\nday, the enterprise appears to be impracticable. My own experience is,\nI imagine, a very common one. When I ceased to accept the teaching of\nmy youth, it was not so much a process of giving up beliefs, as of\ndiscovering that I had never really believed. The contrast between the\ngenuine convictions which guide and govern our conduct, and the\nprofessions which we were taught to repeat in church, when once\nrealised, was too glaring. One belonged to the world of realities, and\nthe other to the world of dreams. The orthodox formul\u00e6 represent, no\ndoubt, a sentiment, an attempt to symbolise emotions which might be\nbeautiful, or to indicate vague impressions about the tendency of\nthings in general; but to put them side by side with real beliefs about\nfacts was to reveal their flimsiness. The \"I believe\" of the creed\nseemed to mean something quite different from the \"I believe\" of\npolitics and history and science. Later experience has only deepened\nand strengthened that feeling. Kind and loving and noble-minded people\nhave sought to press upon me the consolations of their religion. I\nthank them in all sincerity; and I feel,--why should I not admit\nit?--that it may be a genuine comfort to set your melancholy to the old\nstrain in which so many generations have embodied their sorrows and\ntheir aspirations. And yet to me, its consolation is an invitation to\nreject plain facts; to seek for refuge in a shadowy world of dreams and\nconjectures, which dissolve as you try to grasp them. The doctrine\noffered for my acceptance cannot be stated without qualifications and\nreserves and modifications, which make it as useless as it is vague and\nconjectural. I may learn in time to submit to the inevitable; I cannot\ndrug myself with phrases which evaporate as soon as they are exposed to\na serious test. You profess to give me the only motives of conduct; and\nI know that at the first demand to define them honestly--to say\nprecisely what you believe and why you believe it--you will be forced\nto withdraw, and explain and evade, and at last retire to the safe\nrefuge of a mystery, which might as well be admitted at starting. As I\nhave read and thought, I have been more and more impressed with the\nobvious explanation of these observations. How should the beliefs be\notherwise than shadowy and illusory, when their very substance is made\nof doubts laboriously and ingeniously twisted into the semblance of\nconvictions? In one way or other that is the characteristic mark of the\ntheological systems of the present day. Proof is abandoned for\npersuasion. The orthodox believer professed once to prove the facts\nwhich he asserted and to show that his dogmas expressed the truth. He\nnow only tries to show that the alleged facts don't matter, and that\nthe dogmas are meaningless. Nearly two centuries ago, for example, a\ndeist pointed out that the writer of the Book of Daniel, like other\npeople, must have written after the events which he mentioned. All the\nlearned, down to Dr. Pusey, denounced his theory, and declared his\nargument to be utterly destructive of the faith. Now an orthodox\nprofessor will admit that the deist was perfectly right, and only tries\nto persuade himself that arguments from facts are superfluous. The\nsupposed foundation is gone: the superstructure is not to be affected.\nWhat the keenest disputant now seeks to show is, not that the truth of\nthe records can be established beyond reasonable doubt; but that no\nabsolute contradiction in terms is involved in supposing that they\ncorrespond more or less roughly to something which may possibly have\nhappened. So long as a thing is not proved false by mathematical\ndemonstration, I may still continue to take it for a divine revelation,\nand to listen respectfully when experienced statesmen and learned\nprofessors assure me with perfect gravity that they can believe in\nNoah's flood or in the swine of Gadara. They have an unquestionable\nright to believe if they please: and they expect me to accept the facts\nfor the sake of the doctrine. There, unluckily, I have a similar\ndifficulty. It is the orthodox who are the systematic sceptics. The\nmost famous philosophers of my youth endeavoured to upset the deist by\nlaying the foundation of Agnosticism, arbitrarily tagged to an orthodox\nconclusion. They told me to believe a doctrine because it was totally\nimpossible that I should know whether it was true or not, or indeed\nattach any real meaning to it whatever. The highest altar, as Sir W.\nHamilton said, was the altar to the unknown and unknowable God. Others,\nseeing the inevitable tendency of such methods, have done their best to\nfind in that the Christian doctrine, rightly understood, the embodiment\nof the highest philosophy. It is the divine voice which speaks in our\nhearts, though it has caught some accretion of human passion and\nsuperstition. The popular versions are false and debased; the old\nversions of the Atonement, for example, monstrous; and the belief in\nthe everlasting torture of sinners, a hideous and groundless\ncaricature. With much that such men have said I could, of course, agree\nheartily; for, indeed, it expresses the strongest feelings which have\ncaused religious revolt. But would it not be simpler to say, \"the\ndoctrine is not true,\" than to say, \"it is true, but means just the\nreverse of what it was also taken to mean\"? I prefer plain terms; and\n\"without doubt he shall perish everlastingly\" seems to be an awkward\nway of denying the endlessness of punishment. You cannot denounce the\nimmorality of the old dogmas with the infidel, and then proclaim their\ninfinite value with the believer. You defend the doctrine by showing\nthat in its plain downright sense,--the sense in which it embodied\npopular imaginations,--it was false and shocking. The proposal to hold\nby the words evacuated of the old meaning is a concession of the whole\ncase to the unbeliever, and a substitution of sentiment and aspiration\nfor a genuine intellectual belief. Explaining away, however dexterously\nand delicately, is not defending, but at once confessing error, and\nencumbering yourself with all the trammels of misleading associations.\nThe more popular method, therefore, at the present day is not to\nrationalise, but to try to outsceptic the sceptic. We are told that we\nhave no solid ground from reason at all, and that even physical science\nis as full of contradictions as theology. Such enterprises, conducted\nwith whatever ingenuity, are, as I believe, hopeless; but at least they\nare fundamentally and radically sceptical. That, under whatever\ndisguises, is the true meaning of the Catholic argument, which is so\npersuasive to many. To prove the truth of Christianity by abstract\nreasoning may be hopeless; but nothing is easier than to persuade\nyourself to believe it, if once you will trust instinct in place of\nreason, and forget that instinct proves anything and everything. The\nsuccess of such arguments with thoughtful men is simply a measure of\nthe spread of scepticism. The conviction that truth is unattainable is\nthe master argument for submitting to \"authority\". The \"authority,\" in\nthe scientific sense of any set of men who agree upon a doctrine,\nvaries directly as their independence of each other. Their \"authority\"\nin the legal sense varies as the closeness of their mutual dependence.\nAs the consent loses its value logically, it gains in power of\ncoercion. And therefore it is easy to substitute drilling for arguing,\nand to take up a belief as you accept admission to a society, as a\nmatter of taste and feeling, with which abstract logic has nothing to\ndo. The common dilemma--you must be a Catholic or an atheist--means,\nthat theology is only tenable if you drill people into belief by a vast\norganisation appealing to other than logical motives.\n\nI do not argue these points: I only indicate what I take to be your own\nconviction as well as mine. It seems to me, in fact, that the present\nstate of mind--if we look to men's real thoughts and actions, not to\ntheir conventional phrases--is easily definable. It is simply a tacit\nrecognition that the old orthodoxy cannot be maintained either by the\nevidence of facts or by philosophical argument. It has puzzled me\nsometimes to understand why the churches should insist upon nailing\nthemselves down to the truth of their dogmas and their legendary\nhistory. Why cannot they say frankly, what they seem to be constantly\non the verge of saying--Our dogmas and our history are not true, or not\n\"true\" in the historical or scientific sense of the word? To ask for\nsuch truth in the sphere of theology is as pedantic as to ask for it in\nthe sphere of poetry. Poetical truth means, not that certain events\nactually happened, or that the poetical \"machinery\" is to be taken as\nan existing fact; but that the poem is, so to speak, the projection of\ntruths upon the cloudland of imagination. It reflects and gives\nsensuous images of truth; but it is only the Philistine or the\nblockhead who can seriously ask, is it true? Some such position seems\nto be really conceivable as an ultimate compromise. Put aside the\nprosaic insistence upon literal matter-of-fact truth, and we may all\nagree to use the same symbolism, and interpret it as we please. This\nseems to me to be actually the view of many thoughtful people, though\nfor obvious reasons it is not often explicitly stated. One reason is,\nof course, the consciousness that the great mass of mankind requires\nplain, tangible motives for governing its life; and if it once be\nadmitted that so much of the orthodox doctrine is mere symbolism or\nadumbration of truths, the admission would involve the loss of the\ntruths so indicated. Moral conduct, again, and moral beliefs are\nsupposed to depend upon some affirmation of these truths; and excellent\npeople are naturally shy of any open admission which may appear to\nthrow doubt upon the ultimate grounds of morality.\n\nIndeed, if it could be really proved that men have to choose between\nrenouncing moral truths and accepting unproved theories, it might be\nright--I will not argue the point--to commit intellectual suicide. If\nthe truth is that we are mere animals or mere automata, shall we\nsacrifice the truth, or sacrifice what we have at least agreed to call\nour higher nature? For us the dilemma has no force: for we do not admit\nthe discrepancy. We believe that morality depends upon something deeper\nand more permanent than any of the dogmas that have hitherto been\ncurrent in the churches. It is a product of human nature, not of any of\nthese transcendental speculations or faint survivals of traditional\nsuperstitions. Morality has grown up independently of, and often in\nspite of, theology. The creeds have been good so far as they have\naccepted or reflected the moral convictions; but it is an illusion to\nsuppose that they have generated it. They represent the dialect and the\nimagery by which moral truths have been conveyed to minds at certain\nstages of thought; but it is a complete inversion of the truth to\nsuppose that the morality sprang out of them. From this point of view\nwe must of necessity treat the great ethical questions independently.\nWe cannot form a real alliance with thinkers radically opposed to us.\nDivines tell us that we reject the one possible basis of morality. To\nus it appears that we are strengthening it, by severing it from a\nconnection with doctrines arbitrary, incapable of proof, and incapable\nof retaining any consistent meaning. Theologians once believed that\nhell-fire was the ultimate sentence, and persecution the absolute duty\nof every Christian ruler. The churches which once burnt and\nexterminated are now only anxious to proclaim freedom of belief, and to\ncast the blame of persecution upon their rivals. Divines have\ndiscovered that the doctrine of hell-fire deserves all that infidels\nhave said of it; and a member of Dante's church was arguing the other\nday that hell might on the whole be a rather pleasant place of\nresidence. Doctrines which can thus be turned inside out are hardly\ndesirable bases for morality. So the early Christians, again, were the\nSocialists of their age, and took a view of Dives and Lazarus which\nwould commend itself to the Nihilists of to-day. The church is now\noften held up to us as the great barrier against Socialism, and the one\nrefuge against subversive doctrines. In a well-known essay on \"People\nwhom one would have wished to have seen,\" Lamb and his friends are\nrepresented as agreeing that if Christ were to enter they would all\nfall down and worship Him. It may have been so; but if the man who best\nrepresents the ideas of early Christians were to enter a respectable\nsociety of to-day, would it not be more likely to send for the police?\nWhen we consider such changes, and mark in another direction how the\ndogmas which once set half the world to cut the throats of the other\nhalf, have sunk into mere combinations of hard words, can we seriously\nlook to the maintenance of dogmas, even in the teeth of reason, as a\nguarantee for ethical convictions? What you call retaining the only\nbase of morality, appears to us to be trying to associate morality with\ndogmas essentially arbitrary and unreasonable.\n\nFrom this point of view it is naturally our opinion that we should\npromote all thorough discussion of great ethical problems in a spirit\nand by methods which are independent of the orthodox dogmas. There are\nmany such problems undoubtedly of the highest importance. The root of\nall the great social questions of which I have spoken lies in the\nregion of Ethics; and upon that point, at least, we can go along with\nmuch that is said upon the orthodox side. We cannot, indeed, agree that\nEthics can be adequately treated by men pledged to ancient traditions,\nemploying antiquated methods, and always tempted to have an eye to the\ninterest of their own creeds and churches. But we can fully agree that\nethical principles underlie all the most important problems. Every\ngreat religious reform has been stimulated by the conviction that the\none essential thing is a change of spirit, not a mere modification of\nthe external law, which has ceased to correspond to genuine beliefs and\npowerful motives. The commonest criticism, indeed, of all projectors of\nnew Utopias is that they propose a change of human nature. The\ncriticism really suggests a sound criterion. Unless the change proposed\nbe practicable, the Utopia will doubtless be impossible. And unless\nsome practicable change be proposed, the Utopia, even were it embodied\nin practice, would be useless. If the sole result of raising wages were\nan increase in the consumption of gin, wages might as well stay at a\nminimum. But the tacit assumption that all changes of human nature are\nimpracticable is simply a cynical and unproved assertion. All of us\nhere hold, I imagine, that human nature has in a sense been changed. We\nhold that, with all its drawbacks, progress is not an illusion; that\nmen have become at least more tolerant and more humane; that ancient\nbrutalities have become impossible; and that the suffering of the\nweaker excites a keener sympathy. To say that, in that sense, human\nnature must be changed, is to say only that the one sound criterion of\nall schemes for social improvement lies in their ethical tendency. The\nstandard of life cannot be permanently raised unless you can raise the\nstandard of motive. Old-fashioned political theorists thought that a\nsimple change of the constitutional machinery would of itself remedy\nall evils, and failed to recognise that behind the institutions lie all\nthe instincts and capabilities of the men who are to work them. A\nsimilar fallacy is prevalent, I fancy, in regard to what we call social\nreforms. Some scheme for a new mode of distributing the products of\nindustry would, it is often assumed, remedy all social evils. To my\nthinking, no such change would do more than touch the superficial\nevils, unless it had also some tendency to call out the higher and\nrepress the lower impulses. Unless we can to some extent change \"human\nnature,\" we shall be weaving ropes of sand, or devising schemes for\nperpetual motion, for driving our machinery more effectively without\napplying fresh energy. We shall be falling into the old blunders;\napproving Jack Cade's proposal--as recorded by Shakespeare--that the\nthree-hooped pot should have seven hoops; or attempting to get rid of\npoverty by converting the whole nation into paupers. No one, perhaps,\nwill deny this in terms; and to admit it frankly is to admit that every\nscheme must be judged by its tendency to \"raise the manhood of the\npoor,\" and to make every man, rich and poor, feel that he is\ndischarging a useful function in society. Old Robert Owen, when he\nbegan his reforms, rested his doctrine and his hopes of perfectibility\nupon the scientific application of a scheme for \"the formation of\ncharacter\". His plans were crude enough, and fell short of success. But\nhe had seen the real conditions of success; and when, in after years,\nhe imagined that a new society might be made by simply collecting men\nof any character in a crowd, and inviting them to share alike, he fell\ninto the inevitable failure. Modern Socialists might do well to\nremember his history.\n\nNow it is, as I understand, primarily the aim of an Ethical Society to\npromote the rational discussion of these underlying ethical principles.\nWe wish to contribute to the clearest understanding we can of the right\nends to which human energy should be devoted, and of the conditions\nunder which such devotion is most likely to be rewarded with success.\nWe desire to see the great controversy carried on in the nearest\npossible approach to a scientific spirit. That phrase implies, as I\nhave said, that we must abandon much of the old guidance. The lights by\nwhich our ancestors professed to direct their course are not for us\nsupernatural signs, shining in a transcendental region, but at most the\nbeacons which they had themselves erected, and valuable as indications,\nthough certainly not as infallible guides, to the right path. We must\nquestion everything, and be prepared to modify or abandon whatever is\nuntenable. We must be scientific in spirit, in so far as we must trust\nnothing but a thorough and systematic investigation of facts, however\nthe facts may be interpreted. Undoubtedly, the course marked out is\nlong and arduous. It is perfectly true, moreover, as our antagonists\nwill hasten to observe, that professedly scientific reasoners are\nhardly better agreed than their opponents. If they join upon some\nnegative conclusions, and upon some general principles of method, they\ncertainly do not reach the same results. They have at present no\ndefinite creed to lay down. I need only refer, for example, to one very\nobvious illustration. The men who were most conspicuous for their\nattempt to solve social problems by scientific methods, and most\nconfident that they had succeeded, were, probably, those who founded\nthe so-called \"classical\" political economy, and represented what is\nnow called the individualist point of view. Government, they were apt\nto think, should do nothing but stand aside, see fair-play, and keep\nour knives from each other's throats and our hands out of each other's\npockets. Much as their doctrines were denounced, this view is still\nrepresented by the most popular philosopher of the day. And undoubtedly\nwe shall do well to take to heart the obvious moral. If we still\nbelieve in the old-fashioned doctrines, we must infer that to work out\na scientific doctrine is by no means to secure its acceptance. If we\nreject them we must argue that the mere claim to be scientific may\ninspire men with a premature self-confidence, which tends only to make\ntheir errors more systematic. When, however, I look at the actual\ncourse of controversy, I am more impressed by another fact.\n\"Individualism\" is sometimes met by genuine argument. More frequently,\nI think, it is met by simple appeal to sentiment. This kind of thing,\nwe are told, is exploded; it is not up to date; it is as obsolete as\nthe plesiosaurus; and therefore, without bothering ourselves about your\nreasoning, we shall simply neglect it. Talk as much as you please, we\ncan get a majority on the other side. We shall disregard your\narguments, and, therefore--it is a common piece of logic at the present\nday--your arguments must be all wrong. I must be content here with\nsimply indicating my own view. I think, in fact, that, in this as in\nother cases, the true answer to extreme theorists would be very\ndifferent. I hold that we would begin by admitting the immense value of\nthe lesson taught by the old individualists, if that be their right\nname. If they were precipitate in laying down \"iron laws\" and\nproclaiming inexorable necessity, they were perfectly right in pointing\nout that there are certain \"laws of human nature,\" and conditions of\nsocial welfare, which will not be altered by simply declaring them to\nbe unpleasant. They did an inestimable service in emphatically\nprotesting against the system of forcibly suppressing, or trying to\nsuppress, deep-seated evils, without an accurate preliminary diagnosis\nof the causes. And--not to go into remote questions--the\n\"individualist\" creed had this merit, which is related to our especial\naims. The ethical doctrine which they preached may have had--I think\nthat it had--many grave defects; but at least it involved a recognition\nof the truth which their opponents are too apt to shun or reject. They,\nat least, asserted strenuously the cardinal doctrine of the importance\nof individual responsibility. They might draw some erroneous\ninferences, but they could not put too emphatically the doctrine that\nmen must not be taught to shift the blame of all their sufferings upon\nsome mysterious entity called society, or expect improvement unless,\namong other virtues, they will cultivate the virtue of strenuous,\nunremitting, masculine self-help.\n\nIf this be at all true, it may indicate what I take to be the aim of\nour society, or rather of us as members of an ethical society. We hold,\nthat is, that the great problems of to-day have their root, so to\nspeak, in an ethical soil. They will be decided one way or other by the\nview which we take of ethical questions. The questions, for example, of\nwhat is meant by social justice, what is the justification of private\nproperty, or the limits of personal liberty, all lead us ultimately to\nethical foundations. The same is, of course, true of many other\nproblems. The demand for political rights of women is discussed,\nrightly no doubt, upon grounds of justice, and takes us to some knotty\npoints. Does justice imply the equality of the sexes; and, if so, in\nwhat sense of \"equality\"? And, beyond this, we come to the question,\nWhat would be the bearing of our principles upon the institution of\nmarriage, and upon the family bond? No question can be more important,\nor more vitally connected with Ethics. We, at any rate, can no longer\nanswer such problems by any traditional dogmatism. They--and many other\nquestions which I need not specify--have been asked, and have yet to be\nanswered. They will probably not be answered by a simple yes or no, nor\nby any isolated solution of a metaphysical puzzle. Undoubtedly, a vast\nmass of people will insist upon being consulted, and will adopt methods\nwhich cannot be regarded as philosophical. Therefore, it is a matter of\npressing importance that all people who can think at all should use\ntheir own minds, and should do their best to widen and strengthen the\ninfluence of the ablest thinkers. The chaotic condition of the average\nmind is our reason for trying to strengthen the influence, always too\nfeeble, of the genuine thinkers. Much that passes itself off for\nthought is simply old prejudice in a new dress. Tradition has always\nthis, indeed, to say for itself: that it represents the product of much\nunconscious reasoning from experience, and that it is at least\ncompatible with such progress as has been hitherto achieved. Progress\nhas in future to take place in the daylight, and under the stress of\nkeen discussion from every possible point of view. It would be rash\nindeed to assume that we can hope to see the substitution of purely\nrational and scientific methods for the old haphazard and tentative\nblundering into slightly better things. It is possible enough that the\ncreed of the future may, after all, be a compromise, admitting some\nelements of higher truth, but attracting the popular mind by\nconcessions to superstition and ignorance. We can hardly hope to get\nrid of the rooted errors which have so astonishing a vitality. But we\nshould desire, and, so far as in us lies, endeavour to secure the\npresence of the largest possible element of genuine and reasoned\nconviction in the faith of our own and the rising generation.\n\nI have not sought to say anything new. I have only endeavoured to\ndefine the general position which we, as I imagine, have agreed to\naccept. We hold in common that the old dogmas are no longer tenable,\nthough we are very far from being agreed as to what should replace\nthem. We have each, I dare say, our own theory; we agree that our\ntheories, whatever they may be, are in need of strict examination, of\nverification, it may be, but it may be also of modification or\nrejection. We hope that such societies as this may in the first place\nserve as centres for encouraging and popularising the full and free\ndiscussion of the great questions. We wish that people who have reached\na certain stage of cultivation should be made aware of the course which\nis being taken by those who may rightly claim to be in the van. We\noften wish to know, as well as we can, what is the direction of the\ndeeper currents of thought; what genuine results, for example, have\nbeen obtained by historical criticism, especially as applied to the\nreligious history of the world; we want to know what are the real\npoints now at issue in the world of science; the true bearing of the\ntheories of evolution, and so forth, which are known by name far beyond\nthe circle in which their logical reasoning is really appreciated; we\nwant to know, again, what are the problems which really interest modern\nmetaphysicians or psychologists; in what directions there seems to be a\nreal promise of future achievement, and in what directions it seems to\nbe proved by experience that any further expansion of intellectual\nenergy is certain to result only in the discovery of mares' nests.\n\nMatthew Arnold would have expressed this by saying that we are required\nto be made accessible to the influence of the Zeitgeist. There is a\ndifficulty, no doubt, in discovering by what signs we may recognise the\nutterances of the Zeitgeist; and distinguish between loyalty to the\nreal intellectual leaders and a simple desire to be arrayed in the last\nnew fashion in philosophy. There is no infallible sign; and, yet, a\ngenuine desire to discover the true lines in which thought is\ndeveloping, is not of the less importance. Arnold, like others, pointed\nthe moral by a contrast between England and Germany. The best that has\nbeen done in England, it is said, has generally been done by amateurs\nand outsiders. They have, perhaps, certain advantages, as being less\nafraid to strike into original paths, and even the originality of\nignorance is not always, though it may be in nine cases out of ten, a\nname for fresh blundering. But if sporadic English writers have now and\nthen hit off valuable thoughts, there can be no doubt that we have had\na heavy price to pay. The comparative absence of any class, devoted,\nlike German professors, to a systematic and combined attempt to spread\nthe borders of knowledge and speculation, has been an evil which is the\nmore felt in proportion as specialisation of science and familiarity\nwith previous achievements become more important. It would be very easy\nto give particular instances of our backwardness. How different would\nhave been the course of English church history, said somebody, if\nNewman had only known German! He would have breathed a larger air, and\nmight have desisted--I suppose that was the meaning--from the attempt\nto put life into certain dead bones. And with equal truth, it may be\nurged, how much better work might have been done by J. S. Mill if he\nhad really read Kant! He might not have been converted, but he would\nhave been saved from maintaining in their crude form, doctrines which\nundoubtedly require modification. Under his reign, English thought was\nconstantly busied with false issues, simply from ignorance of the most\neffective criticism. It is needless to point out how much time is\nwasted in the defence of positions that have long been turned by the\nenemy from sheer want of acquaintance with the relevant evidence, or\nwith the logic that has been revealed by the slow thrashing out of\nthorough controversy. It would be invidious perhaps to insist too much\nupon another obvious result: the ease with which a man endowed with a\ngift of popular rhetoric, and a facility for catching at the current\nphrases, can set up as a teacher, however palpable to the initiated may\nbe his ignorance. Scientific thought has perhaps as much to fear from\nthe false prophets who take its name as from the open enemies who try\nto stifle its voice. I would rather emphasise another point, perhaps\nless generally remarked. The study has its idols as well as its\nmarket-place. Certain weaknesses are developed in the academical\natmosphere as well as in the arenas of public discussion. Freeman used\nto say that English historians had avoided certain errors into which\nGerman writers of far greater knowledge and more thorough scholarship\nhad fallen, simply because points were missed by a professor in a\nGerman university which were plain to those who, like many Englishmen,\nhad to take a part in actual political work. I think that this is not\nwithout a meaning for us. We have learnt, very properly, to respect\nGerman research and industry; and we are trying in various directions\nto imitate their example. Perhaps it would be as well to keep an eye\nupon some German weaknesses. A philosophy made for professors is apt to\nbe a philosophy for pedants. A professor is bound to be omniscient; he\nhas to have an answer to everything; he is tempted to construct systems\nwhich will pass muster in the lecture-room, and to despise the rest of\ntheir applicability to daily life. I confess myself to be old-fashioned\nenough to share some of the old English prejudices against those\ngigantic structures which have been thrown out by imposing\nphilosophers, who evolved complete systems of metaphysics and logic and\nreligion and politics and \u00e6sthetics out of their own consciousness. We\nhave multiplied professors of late, and professors are bound to write\nbooks, and to magnify the value of their own studies. They must make a\nshow of possessing an encyclop\u00e6dic theory which will explain everything\nand take into account all previous theories. Sometimes, perhaps, they\nwill lose themselves in endless subtleties and logomachies and\nconstruct cobwebs of the brain, predestined to the rubbish-heap of\nextinct philosophies. It is enough, however, to urge that a mere\nstudent may be the better for keeping in mind the necessity of keeping\nin mind real immediate human interests; as the sentimentalist has to be\nreminded of the importance of strictly logical considerations. And I\nthink too that a very brief study of the most famous systems of old\ndays will convince us that philosophers should be content with a more\nmodest attitude than they have sometimes adopted; give up the\npretensions to framing off-hand theories of things in general, and be\ncontent to puzzle out a few imperfect truths which may slowly work\ntheir way into the general structure of thought. I wish to speak humbly\nas befits one who cannot claim any particular authority for his\nopinion. But, in all humility, I suggest that if we can persuade men of\nreputation in the regions where subtle thought and accurate research\nare duly valued, we shall be doing good, not only to ourselves, but, if\nI may whisper it, to them. We value their attainments so highly that we\ndesire their influence to spread beyond the narrow precinct of\nuniversity lecture-rooms; and their thoughts be, at the same time,\nstimulated and vitalised by bringing them into closer contact with the\nproblems which are daily forced upon us in the business of daily life.\nA divorce between the men of thought and the men of action is really\nbad for both. Whatever tends to break up the intellectual stupor of\nlarge classes, to rouse their minds, to increase their knowledge of the\ngenuine work that is being done, to provide them even with more of such\nrecreations as refine and invigorate, must have our sympathy, and will\nbe useful both to those who confer and to those who receive\ninstruction. So, after all, a philosopher can learn few things of more\nimportance than the art of translating his doctrines into language\nintelligible and really instructive to the outside world. There was a\nperiod when real thinkers, as Locke and Berkeley and Butler and Hume,\ntried to express themselves as pithily and pointedly as possible. They\nwere, say some of their critics, very shallow: they were over-anxious\nto suit the taste of wits and the town: and in too much fear of the\ncharge of pedantry. Well, if some of our profounder thinkers would try\nfor once to pack all that they really have to say as closely as they\ncan, instead of trying to play every conceivable change upon every\nthought that occurs to them, I fancy that they would be surprised both\nat the narrowness of the space which they would occupy and the\ncomparative greatness of the effect they would produce.\n\nAn ethical society should aim at supplying a meeting-place between the\nexpert and specialist on one side, and, on the other, with the men who\nhave to apply ideas to the complex concretes of political and social\nactivity. How far we can succeed in furthering that aim I need not\nattempt to say. But I will conclude by reverting to some thoughts at\nwhich I hinted at starting. You may think that I have hardly spoken in\na very sanguine or optimistic tone. I have certainly admitted the\nexistence of enormous difficulties and the probabilities of very\nimperfect success. I cannot think that the promised land of which we\nare taking a Pisgah sight is so near or the view so satisfactory as\nmight be wished. A mirage like that which attended our predecessors may\nstill be exercising illusions for us; and I anticipate less an\nimmediate fruition, than a beginning of another long cycle of\nwanderings through a desert, let us hope rather more fertile than that\nwhich we have passed. If this be something of a confession you may\neasily explain it by personal considerations. In an old controversy\nwhich I was reading the other day, one of the disputants observed that\nhis adversary held that the world was going from bad to worse. \"I do\nnot wonder at the opinion,\" he remarks; \"for I am every day more\ntempted to embrace it myself, since every day I am leaving youth\nfurther behind.\" I am old enough to feel the force of that remark.\nWithout admitting senility, I have lived long enough, that is, to know\nwell that for me the brighter happiness is a thing of the past; that I\nhave to look back even to realise what it means; and to feel that a\nsadder colouring is conferred upon the internal world by the eye \"which\nhath kept watch o'er man's mortality.\" I have watched the brilliant\npromise of many contemporaries eclipsed by premature death; and have\ntoo often had to apply Newton's remark, \"If that man had lived, we\nmight have known something\". Lights which once cheered me have gone\nout, and are going out all too rapidly; and, to say nothing of\nindividuals, I have also lived long enough to watch the decay of once\nflourishing beliefs. I can remember, only too vividly, the confident\nhope with which many young men, whom I regarded as the destined leaders\nof progress, affirmed that the doctrines which they advocated were\ngoing forth conquering and to conquer; and though I may still think\nthat those doctrines had a permanent value, and were far from deserving\nthe reproaches now often levelled at them, I must admit that we greatly\nexaggerated our omniscience. I am often tempted, I confess, to draw the\nrather melancholy moral that some of my younger friends may be destined\nto disillusionment, and may be driven some thirty years hence to admit\nthat their present confidence was a little in excess.\n\nI admit all this: but I do not admit that my view could sanction\ndespondency. I can see perhaps ground for foreboding which I should\nonce have rejected. I can realise more distinctly, not only the amount\nof misery in the world, but the amount of misdirected energy, the\ndulness of the average intellect, and the vast deadweight of\nsuperstition and dread of the light with which all improvement must\nhave to reckon. And yet I also feel that, if a complacent optimism be\nimpossible, the world was never so full of interest. When we complain\nof the stress and strain and over-excitement of modern society we\nindicate, I think, a real evil; but we also tacitly admit that no one\nhas any excuse for being dull. In every direction there is abundant\nopportunity for brave and thoughtful men to find the fullest occupation\nfor whatever energy they may possess. There is work to be found\neverywhere in this sense, and none but the most torpid can find an\nexcuse for joining the spiritually unemployed. The fields, surely, are\nwhite for the harvest, though there are weeds enough to be extirpated,\nand hard enough furrows to be ploughed. We know what has been done in\nthe field of physical science. It has made the world infinite. The days\nof the old pagan, \"suckled in some creed outworn,\" are regretted in\nWordsworth's sonnet; for the old pagan held to the poetical view that a\nstar was the chariot of a deity. The poor deity, however, had, in fact,\na duty as monotonous as that of a driver in the Underground Railway. To\nus a star is a signal of a new world; it suggests universe beyond\nuniverse; sinking into the infinite abysses of space; we see worlds\nforming or decaying and raising at every moment problems of a strange\nfascination. The prosaic truth is really more poetical than the old\nfigment of the childish imagination. The first great discovery of the\nreal nature of the stars did, in fact, logically or not, break up more\neffectually than perhaps any other cause, the old narrow and stifling\nconception of the universe represented by Dante's superlative power;\nand made incredible the systems based on the conception that man can be\nthe centre of all things and the universe created for the sake of this\nplace. It is enough to point to the similar change due to modern\ntheories of evolution. The impassable barriers of thought are broken\ndown. Instead of the verbal explanation, which made every plant and\nanimal an ultimate and inexplicable fact, we now see in each a movement\nin an indefinite series of complex processes, stretching back further\nthan the eye can reach into the indefinite past. If we are sometimes\nstunned by the sense of inconceivable vastness, we feel, at least, that\nno intellectual conqueror need ever be affected by the old fear. For\nhim there will always be fresh regions to conquer. Every discovery\nsuggests new problems; and though knowledge may be simplified and\ncodified, it will always supply a base for fresh explanations of the\nindefinite regions beyond. Can that which is true of the physical\nsciences be applied in any degree to the so-called moral sciences? To\nBentham, I believe, is ascribed the wish that he could fall asleep and\nbe waked at the end of successive centuries, to take note of the\nvictories achieved in the intervals by his utilitarianism. Tennyson, in\none of his youthful poems, played with the same thought. It would be\npleasant, as the story of the sleeping beauty suggested, to rise every\nhundred years to mark the progress made in science and politics; and to\nsee the \"Titanic forces\" that would come to the birth in divers climes\nand seasons; for we, he says--\n\n    For we are Ancients of the earth,\n      And in the morning of the times.\n\nTennyson, if this expressed his serious belief, seems to have lost his\nillusions; and it is probable enough that Bentham's would have had some\nunpleasant surprises could his wish have been granted. It is more than\na century since his doctrine was first revealed, and yet the world has\nnot become converted; and some people doubt whether it ever will be.\nIf, indeed, Bentham's speculations had been adopted; if we had all\nbecome convinced that morality means aiming at the greatest happiness\nof the greatest number; if we were agreed as to what is happiness, and\nwhat is the best way of promoting it,--there would still have been a\nvast step to take, no less than to persuade people to desire to follow\nthe lines of conduct which tend to minimise unhappiness. The mere\nintellectual conviction that this or that will be useful is quite a\ndifferent thing from the desire. You no more teach men to be moral by\ngiving them a sound ethical theory, than you teach them to be good\nshots by explaining the theory of projectiles. A religion implies a\nphilosophy, but a philosophy is not by itself a religion. The demand\nthat it should be is, I hold, founded upon a wrong view as to the\nrelation between the abstract theory and the art of conduct. To convert\nthe world you have not merely to prove your theories, but to stimulate\nthe imagination, to discipline the passions, to provide modes of\nutterance for the emotions and symbols which may represent the\nfundamental beliefs--briefly, to do what is done by the founders of the\ngreat religions. To transmute speculation into action is a problem of\ntremendous difficulty, and I only glance in the briefest way at its\nnature. We, I take it, as members of Ethical Societies, have no claim\nto be, even in the humblest way, missionaries of a new religion: but\nare simply interested in doing what we can to discuss in a profitable\nway the truths which it ought to embody or reflect. But that is itself\na work of no trifling importance; and we may imagine that a Bentham,\nrefreshed by his century's slumber, and having dropped some of his\nlittle personal vanities, would on the whole be satisfied with what he\nsaw. If Bacon could again come to life, he too would find that the\nmethods which he contemplated and the doctrines which he preached were\nnarrow and refutive; yet his prophecies of scientific growth have been\nmore than realised by his successors, modifying, in some ways,\nrejecting his principles. And so Bentham might hold to-day that,\nalthough his sacred formula was not so exhaustive or precise as he\nfancied, yet the conscious and deliberate pursuit of the happiness of\nmankind had taken a much more important place in the aspirations of the\ntime. He would see that the vast changes which have taken place in\nsociety, vast beyond all previous conception, were bringing up ever new\nproblems, requiring more elaborate methods, and more systematic\nreasoning. He would observe that many of the abuses which he denounced\nhave disappeared, and that though progress does not take place along\nthe precise lines which he laid down, there is both a clearer\nrecognition of the great ends of conduct, and a general advance in the\ndirection which he desired. That this can be carried on by promoting a\nfree and full discussion of first principles; that the great social\nevils which still exist can be diminished, and the creed of the future,\nhowever dim its outlines may be to our perception, may be purified as\nmuch as possible from ancient prejudice and superstition, is our faith;\nand however little we can do to help in carrying out that process, we\ndesire to do that little.\n\n\n\n\nSCIENCE AND POLITICS.[2]\n\n\nIt is with great pleasure that I address you as president of this\nSociety. Your main purpose, as I understand, is to promote the serious\nstudy of political and social problems in a spirit purged from the\nprejudice and narrowness of mere party conflict. You desire, that is,\nto promote a scientific investigation of some of the most important\ntopics to which the human mind can devote itself. There is no purpose\nof which I approve more cordially: yet the very statement suggests a\ndoubt. To speak of science and politics together is almost to suggest\nirony. And if politics be taken in the ordinary sense; if we think of\nthe discussions by which the immediate fate of measures and of\nministries is decided, I should be inclined to think that they belong\nto a sphere of thought to which scientific thought is hardly\napplicable, and in which I should be personally an unwarrantable\nintruder. My friends have sometimes accused me, indeed, of indifference\nto politics. I confess that I have never been able to follow the\ndetails of party warfare with the interest which they excite in some\nminds: and reasons, needless to indicate, have caused me to stray\nfurther and further away from intercourse with the society in which\nsuch details excite a predominant--I do not mean to insinuate an\nexcessive--interest. I feel that if I were to suggest any arguments\nbearing directly upon home rule or disestablishment, I should at once\ncome under that damnatory epithet \"academical,\" which so neatly cuts\nthe ground from under the feet of the political amateur. Moreover, I\nrecognise a good deal of justice in the implied criticism. An active\npolitician who wishes to impress his doctrines upon his countrymen,\nshould have a kind of knowledge to which I can make no pretension. I\nshare the ordinary feelings of awful reverence with which the human\nbookworm looks up to the man of business. He has faculties which in me\nare rudimentary, but which I can appreciate by their contrast to my own\nfeebleness. The \"knowledge of the world\" ascribed to lawyers, to\npoliticians, financiers, and such persons, like the \"knowledge of the\nhuman heart\" so often ascribed to dramatists and novelists, represents,\nI take it, a very real kind of knowledge; but it is rather an instinct\nthan a set of definite principles; a power of somehow estimating the\ntendencies and motives of their fellow-creatures in a mass by rule of\nthumb, rather than by any distinctly assignable logical process; only\nto be gained by long experience and shrewd observation of men and\ncities. Such a faculty, as it reaches sound results without employing\nexplicit definitions and syllogisms and inductive processes, sometimes\ninclines its possessors to look down too contemptuously upon the closet\nstudent.\n\n      [2] Address to the Social and Political Education League, 29th\n      March, 1892.\n\nWhile, however, I frankly confess my hopeless incapacity for taking any\npart in the process by which party platforms are constructed, I should\nbe ashamed to admit that I was not very keenly interested in political\ndiscussions which seem to me to touch vitally important matters. And\nfully recognising the vast superiority of the practical man in his own\nworld, I also hold that he should not treat me and my like as if we,\naccording to the famous comparison, were black beetles, and he at the\nopposite pole of the universe. There exists, in books at least, such a\nthing as political theory, apart from that claiming to underlie the\nimmediate special applications. Your practical man is given to\nappealing to such theories now and then; though I confess that he too\noften leaves the impression of having taken them up on the spur of the\nmoment to round a peroration and to give dignity to a popular cry; and\nthat, in his lips, they are apt to sound so crude and artificial that\none can only wonder at his condescending to notice them. He ridicules\nthem as the poorest of platitudes whenever they are used by an\nantagonist, and one can only hope that his occasional homage implies\nthat he too has a certain belief that there ought to be, and perhaps may\nsomewhere be, a sound theory, though he has not paid it much attention.\nWell, we, I take it, differ from him simply in this respect, that we\nbelieve more decidedly that such theory has at least a potential\nexistence; and that if hitherto it is a very uncertain and ambiguous\nguide, the mere attempt to work it out seriously may do something to\nstrengthen and deepen our practical political convictions. A man of real\nability, who is actively engaged in politics without being submerged by\nmerely political intrigues, can hardly fail to wish at least to\ninstitute some kind of research into the principles which guide his\npractice. To such a desire we may attribute some very stimulating books,\nsuch, for example, as Bagehot's _Physics and Politics_ or Mr. Bryce's\nphilosophical study of the United States. What I propose to do is to\nsuggest a few considerations as to the real value and proper direction\nof these arguments, which lie, as it were, on the borderland between the\nimmediate \"platform\" and the abstract theory.\n\nPhilosophers have given us the name \"Sociology\"--a barbarous name, say\nsome--for the science which deals with the subject matter of our\ninquiries. Is it more than a name for a science which may or may not\nsome day come into existence? What is science? It is simply organised\nknowledge; that part of our knowledge which is definite, established\nbeyond reasonable doubt, and which achieves its task by formulating\nwhat are called \"scientific laws\". Laws in this sense are general\nformul\u00e6, which, when the necessary data are supplied, will enable us to\nextend our knowledge beyond the immediate facts of perception. Given a\nplanet, moving at a given speed in a given direction, and controlled by\ngiven attractive forces, we can determine its place at a future moment.\nOr given a vegetable organism in a given environment, we can predict\nwithin certain limits the way in which it will grow, although the laws\nare too obscure and too vague to enable us to speak of it with any\napproach to the precision of astronomy. And we should have reached a\nsimilar stage in sociology if from a given social or political\nconstitution adopted by a given population, we could prophesy what\nwould be the results. I need not say that any approximation to such\nachievements is almost indefinitely distant. Personal claims to such\npowers of prediction rather tend to bring discredit upon the embryo\nscience. Coleridge gives in the _Biographia Literaria_ a quaint\nstatement of his own method. On every great occurrence, he says, he\ntried to discover in past history the event that most nearly resembled\nit. He examined the original authorities. \"Then fairly subtracting the\npoints of difference from the points of likeness,\" as the balance\nfavoured the former or the latter, he conjectured that the result would\nbe the same, or different. So, for example, he was able to prophesy the\nend of the Spanish rising against Napoleon from the event of the war\nbetween Philip II. and the Dutch provinces. That is, he cried, \"Heads!\"\nand on this occasion the coin did not come down tails. But I need\nhardly point out how impossible is the process of political arithmetic.\nWhat is meant by adding or subtracting in this connection? Such a rule\nof three would certainly puzzle me, and, I fancy, most other observers.\nWe may say that the insurrection of a patriotic people, when they are\nhelped from without, and their oppressors have to operate from a\ndistant base and to fight all Europe at the same time, will often\nsucceed; and we may often be right; but we should not give ourselves\nthe airs of prophets on that account. There are many superficial\nanalogies of the same character. My predecessor, Professor Dicey,\npointed out some of them, to confirm his rather depressing theory that\nhistory is nothing but an old almanac. Let me take a common one, which,\nI think, may illustrate our problem. There is a certain analogy between\nthe cases of C\u00e6sar, Cromwell, and Napoleon. In each case we have a\nmilitary dictatorship as the final outcome of a civil war. Some people\nimagined that this analogy would apply to the United States, and that\nWashington or Grant would be what was called the man on horseback. The\nreasoning really involved was, in fact, a very simple one. The\ndestruction of an old system of government makes some form of\ndictatorship the only alternative to chaos. It therefore gives a chance\nto the one indisputable holder of power in its most unmistakable shape,\nnamely, to the general of a disciplined army. A soldier accordingly\nassumed power in each of the three first cases, although the\ndifferences between the societies ruled by the Roman, the English and\nthe French dictators are so vast that further comparison soon becomes\nidle. Neither Washington nor Grant had the least chance of making\nthemselves dictators had they wished, because the civil wars had left\ngovernments perfectly uninjured and capable of discharging all their\nfunctions, and had not produced a regular army with interests of its\nown. In this and other cases, I should say that such an analogy may be\nto some extent instructive, but I should certainly deny that there was\nanything like a scientific induction. We, happily, can reason to some\nextent upon political matters by the help of simple common sense before\nit has undergone that process of organisation, of reduction to precise\nmeasurable statements, which entitles it to be called a scientific\nprocedure. The resemblance of Washington to Cromwell was of the\nexternal and superficial order. It may be compared to those analogies\nwhich exist between members of different natural orders without\nimplying any deeper resemblance. A whale, we know, is like a fish in so\nfar as he swims about in the sea, and he has whatever fishlike\nqualities are implied in the ability to swim. He will die on land,\nthough not from the same causes. But, physiologically, he belongs to a\ndifferent race, and we should make blunders if we argued from the\nexternal likeness to a closer resemblance. Or, to drop what may be too\nfanciful a comparison, it may be observed that all assemblies of human\nbeings may be contrasted in respect of being numerous or select, and\nhave certain properties in consequence. We may therefore make some true\nand general propositions about the contrasts between the action of\nsmall and large consultative bodies which will apply to many widely\ndifferent cases. A good many, and, I think, some really valuable\nobservations of this kind have been made, and form the substance of\nmany generalisations laid down as to the relative advantages of\ndemocracy and aristocracy. Now I should be disposed to say that such\nremarks belong rather to the morphology than the physiology of the\nsocial organism. They indicate external resemblances between bodies of\nwhich the intimate constitution and the whole mode of growth and\nconditions of vitality, may be entirely different. Such analogies,\nthen, though not without their value, are far from being properly\nscientific.\n\nWhat remains? There is, shall we say, no science of sociology--merely a\nheap of vague, empirical observations, too flimsy to be useful in\nstrict logical inference? I should, I confess, be apt to say so myself.\nThen, you may proceed, is it not idle to attempt to introduce a\nscientific method? And to that I should emphatically reply, No! it is\nof the highest importance. The question, then, will follow, how I can\nmaintain these two positions at once. And to that I make, in the first\nplace, this general answer: Sociology is still of necessity a very\nvague body of approximate truths. We have not the data necessary for\nobtaining anything like precise laws. A mathematician can tell you\nprecisely what he means when he speaks of bodies moving under the\ninfluence of an attraction which varies inversely as the square of the\ndistance. But what are the attractive forces which hold together the\nbody politic? They are a number of human passions, which even the\nacutest psychologists are as yet quite unable to analyse or to\nclassify: they act according to laws of which we have hardly the\nvaguest inkling; and, even if we possessed any definite laws, the facts\nto which they have to be applied are so amazingly complex as to defy\nany attempt at assigning results. There is, so far as I can see, no\nground for supposing that there is or ever can be a body of precise\ntruths at all capable of comparison with the exact sciences. But this\nobvious truth, though it implies very narrow limits to our hopes of\nscientific results, does not force us to renounce the application of\nscientific method. The difficulty applies in some degree even to\nphysiology as compared with physics, as the vital phenomena are\nincomparably more complex than those with which we have to deal in the\nsimpler sciences; and yet nobody doubts that a scientific physiology is\na possibility, and, to some extent, a reality. Now, in sociology,\nhowever imperfect it may be, we may still apply the same methods which\nhave been so fruitful in other departments of thought. We may undertake\nit in the scientific spirit which depends upon patient appeal to\nobservation, and be guided by the constant recollection that we are\ndealing with an organism, the various relations of whose constituent\nparts are determined by certain laws to which we may, perhaps, make\nsome approximation. We may do so, although their mutual actions and\nreactions are so complex and subtle that we can never hope to\ndisentangle them with any approach to completeness. And one test of the\nlegitimacy of our methods will be, that although we do not hope to\nreach any precise and definitely assignable law, we yet reach, or aim\nat reaching, results which, while wanting in precision, want precision\nalone to be capable of incorporation in an ideal science such as might\nactually exist for a supernatural observer of incomparably superior\npowers. A man who knows, though he knows nothing more, that the moon is\nkept in its orbit by forces similar to or identical with those which\ncause the fall of an apple, knows something which only requires more\ndefinite treatment to be made into a genuine theory of gravitation. If,\non the contrary, he merely pays himself with words, with vague guesses\nabout occult properties, or a supposed angel who directs the moon's\ncourse, he is still in the unscientific stage. His theory is not\nscience still in the vague, but something which stops the way to\nscience. Now, if we can never hope to get further than the step which\nin the problem of gravitation represents the first step towards\nscience, yet that step may be a highly important one. It represents a\ndiversion of the current of thought from such channels as end in mere\nshifting sands of speculation, into the channel which leads towards\nsome definite conclusion, verifiable by experience, and leading to\nconclusions, not very precise, but yet often pointing to important\npractical results. It may, perhaps, be said that, as the change which I\nam supposing represents only a change of method and spirit, it can\nachieve no great results in actual assignable truth. Well! a change of\nmethod and spirit is, in my opinion, of considerable importance, and\nvery vague results would still imply an improvement in the chaos of\nwhat now passes for political philosophy. I will try to indicate very\nbriefly the kind of improvement of which we need not despair.\n\nFirst of all, I conceive that, as I have indicated, a really scientific\nhabit of thought would dispel many hopeless logomachies. When Burke,\nincomparably the greatest of our philosophical politicians, was arguing\nagainst the American policy of the Government, he expressed his hatred\nof metaphysics--the \"Serbonian bog,\" as he called it, in which whole\narmies had been lost. The point at which he aimed was the fruitless\ndiscussion of abstract rights, which prevented people from applying\ntheir minds to the actual facts, and from seeing that metaphysical\nentities of that kind were utterly worthless when they ceased to\ncorrespond to the wants and aspirations of the peoples concerned. He\ncould not, as he said, draw up an indictment against a nation, because\nhe could not see how such troubles as had arisen between England and\nthe Colonies were to be decided by technical distinctions such as\npassed current at _nisi prius_. I am afraid that the mode of reasoning\ncondemned by Burke has not yet gone out of fashion. I do not wish to\ndraw down upon myself the wrath of metaphysicians. I am perfectly\nwilling that they should go on amusing themselves by attempting to\ndeduce the first principles of morality from abstract considerations of\nlogical affirmation and denial. But I will say this, that, in any case,\nand whatever the ultimate meaning of right and wrong, all political and\nsocial questions must be discussed with a continual reference to\nexperience, to the contents as well as to the form of their metaphysical\nconcepts. It is, to my mind, quite as idle to attempt to determine the\nvalue, say, of a political theory by reasoning independent of the\ncharacter and circumstances of the nation and its constituent members,\nas to solve a medical question by abstract formul\u00e6, instead of by\ncareful, prolonged, and searching investigation into the constitution of\nthe human body. I think that this requires to be asserted so long as\npopular orators continue to declaim, for example, about the \"rights of\nman,\" or the doctrines of political equality. I by no means deny, or\nrather I should on due occasion emphatically assert, that the demands\ncovered by such formul\u00e6 are perfectly right, and that they rest upon a\nbase of justice. But I am forced to think that, as they are generally\nstated, they can lead to nothing but logomachy. When a man lays down\nsome such sweeping principle, his real object is to save himself the\ntrouble of thinking. So long as the first principles from which he\nstarts are equally applicable,--and it is of the very nature of these\nprinciples that they should be equally applicable to men in all times\nand ages, to Englishmen and Americans, Hindoos and Chinese, Negroes and\nAustralians,--they are worthless for any particular case, although, of\ncourse, they may be accidentally true in particular cases. In short,\nleaving to the metaphysicians--that is, postponing till the Greek\nKalends--any decision as to the ultimate principles, I say that every\npolitical theory should be prepared to justify itself by an accurate\nobservation of the history and all the various characteristics of the\nsocial organisation to which it is to be applied.\n\nThis points to the contrast to which I have referred: the contrast\nbetween the keen vigorous good sense upon immediate questions of the\nday, to which I often listen with the unfeigned admiration due to the\nshrewd man of business, and the paltry little outworn platitudes which\nhe introduces when he wants to tag his arguments with sounding\nprinciples. I think, to take an example out of harm's way, that an\nexcellent instance is found in the famous American treatise, the\n_Federalist_. It deserves all the credit it has won so long as the\nauthors are discussing the right way to form a constitution which may\nsatisfy the wants and appease the prejudices then actually existing. In\nspite of such miscalculations as beset all forecasts of the future,\nthey show admirable good sense and clear appreciation. But when they\nthink it necessary to appeal to Montesquieu, to tag their arguments\nfrom common sense with little ornamental formul\u00e6 learnt from\nphilosophical writings, they show a very amiable simplicity; but they\nalso seem to me to sink at once to the level of a clever prize essay in\na university competition. The mischief may be slight when we are merely\nconsidering literary effect. But it points to a graver evil. In\npolitical discussions, the half-trained mind has strong convictions\nabout some particular case, and then finds it easiest to justify its\nconviction by some sweeping general principle. It really starts,\nspeaking in terms of logic, by assuming the truth of its minor and\ntakes for granted that any major which will cover the minor is\ntherefore established. Nothing saves so much trouble in thinking as the\nacceptance of a good sounding generality or a self-evident truth. Where\nyour poor scientific worker plods along, testing the truth of his\nargument at every point, making qualifications and reservations, and\nadmitting that every general principle may require to be modified in\nconcrete cases, you can thus both jump to your conclusion and assume\nthe airs of a philosopher. It is, I fancy, for this reason that people\nhave such a tendency to lay down absolute rules about really difficult\npoints. It is so much easier to say at once that all drinking ought to\nbe suppressed, than to consider how, in actual circumstances, sobriety\ncan be judiciously encouraged; and by assuming a good self-evident law\nand denouncing your opponents as immoral worshippers of expediency, you\nplace yourself in an enviable position of moral dignity and\ninaccessibility. No argument can touch you. These abstract rules, too,\nhave the convenience of being strangely ambiguous. I have been almost\npathetically affected when I have observed how some thoroughly\ncommonplace person plumes himself on preserving his consistency because\nhe sticks resolutely to his party dogmas, even when their whole meaning\nhas evaporated. Some English radicals boasted of consistency because\nthey refused to be convinced by experience that republicans under a\nmilitary dictator could become tyrannous and oppressive. At the present\nday, I see many worthy gentlemen, who from being thorough-going\nindividualists, have come to swallow unconsciously the first principles\nof socialism without the least perception that they have changed,\nsimply because a new meaning has been gradually insinuated into the\nsacred formul\u00e6. Scientific habits of thought, I venture to suggest,\nwould tend to free a man from the dominion of these abstract phrases,\nwhich sometimes make men push absolute dogmas to extravagant results,\nand sometimes blind them to the complete transformation which has taken\nplace in their true meaning. The great test of statesmanship, it is\nsaid, is the knowledge how and when to make a compromise, and when to\nhold fast to a principle. The tendency of the thoughtless is to\ndenounce all compromise as wicked, and to stick to a form of words\nwithout bothering about the real meaning. Belief in \"fads\"--I cannot\navoid the bit of slang--and singular malleability of real convictions\nare sometimes generated just by want of serious thought; and, at any\nrate, both phenomena are very common at present.\n\nThis suggests another aspect of reasoning in a scientific spirit,\nnamely, the importance which it attaches to a right comprehension of\nthe practicable. The scientific view is sometimes described as\nfatalistic. A genuine scientific theory implies a true estimate of the\ngreat forces which mould institutions, and therefore a true\napprehension of the limits within which they can be modified by any\nproposed change. We all remember Sydney Smith's famous illustration, in\nregard to the opposition to the Reform Bill, of Mrs. Partington's\nattempt to stop the Atlantic with her mop. Such an appeal is sometimes\ndescribed as immoral. Many politicians, no doubt, find in it an excuse\nfor immoral conduct. They assume that such and such a measure is\ninevitable, and therefore they think themselves justified for\nadvocating it, even though they hold it to be wrong. Indeed, I observe\nthat many excellent journalists are apparently unable to perceive any\ndistinction between the assertion that a measure will be passed, and\nthat it ought to be passed. Undoubtedly, if I think a measure unjust, I\nought to say that it is unjust, even if I am sure that it will\nnevertheless be carried, and, in some cases, even though I may be a\nmartyr to my opposition. If it is inevitable, it can be carried without\nmy help, and my protest may at least sow a seed for future reaction.\nBut this is no answer to the argument of Sydney Smith when taken in a\nreasonable sense. The opposition to the Reform Bill was a particular\ncase of the opposition to the advance of democracy. The statement that\ndemocracy has advanced and will advance, is sometimes taken to be\nfatalistic. People who make the assertion may answer for themselves. I\nshould answer, as I think we should all answer now, that the advance of\ndemocracy, desirable or undesirable, depended upon causes far too deep\nand general to be permanently affected by any Reform Bill. It was only\none aspect of vast social changes which had been going on for\ncenturies; and to propose to stop it by throwing out the Reform Bill\nwas like proposing to stop a child's growth by forcing him to go on\nwearing his long clothes. Sydney Smith's answer might be immoral if it\nsimply meant, don't fight because you will be beaten. It may often be a\nduty to take a beating. But it was, perhaps, rather a way of saying\nthat if you want to stop the growth of democracy, you must begin by\naltering the course of the social, intellectual and moral changes which\nhave been operating through many generations, and that unless you can\ndo that, it is idle to oppose one particular corollary, and so to make\na revolution inevitable, instead of a peaceful development. To say\nthat any change is impossible in the absolute sense, may be fatalism;\nbut it is simple good sense, and therefore good science, to say that to\nproduce any change whatever you must bring to bear a force adequate to\nthe change. When a man's leg is broken, you can't expect to heal it by\na bit of sticking-plaster; a pill is not supposed, now, to be a cure\nfor an earthquake; and to insist upon such facts is not to be\nfatalistic, but simply to say that a remedy must bear some proportion\nto an evil. It is a commonplace to observe upon the advantage which\nwould have been gained if our grandfathers would have looked at the\nFrench Revolution scientifically. A terrible catastrophe had occurred\nabroad. The true moral, as we all see now, was that England should make\nsuch reforms as would obviate the danger of a similar catastrophe at\nhome. The moral which too many people drew was too often, that all\nreforms should be stopped; with the result that the evils grew worse\nand social strata more profoundly alienated. It is a first principle of\nscientific reasoning, that a break-down of social order implies some\nantecedent defect, demanding an adequate remedy. It is a primary\nassumption of party argument, that the opposite party is wholly wrong,\nthat its action is perfectly gratuitous, and either causeless or\nproduced by the direct inspiration of the devil. The struggle, upon the\nscientific theory, represents two elements in an evolution which can be\naccomplished peacefully by such a reconstruction as will reconcile the\nconflicting aims and substitute harmony for discord. On the other\ndoctrine, it is a conflict of hopelessly antagonistic principles, one\nof which is to be forcibly crushed.\n\nI hope that I am not too sanguine, but I cannot help believing that in\nthis respect we have improved, and improved by imbibing some of the\nscientific doctrine. I think that in recent discussions of the most\nimportant topics, however bitter and however much distorted by the old\nparty spirit, there is yet a clearer recognition than of old, that\nwidely-spread discontent is not a reason for arbitrary suppression, but\nfor seeking to understand and remove its causes. We should act in the\nspirit of Spinoza's great saying; and it should be our aim, as it was\nhis care, \"neither to mock, to bewail, nor to denounce men's actions,\nbut to understand them\". That is equally true of men's opinions. If\nthey are violent, passionate, subversive of all order, our duty is not\nbare denunciations, but a clear comprehension of the causes, not of the\nostensible reasons, of their opinions, and a resolution to remove those\ncauses. I think this view has made some way: I am sure that it will\nmake more way if we become more scientific in spirit; and it is one of\nthe main reasons for encouraging such a spirit. The most obvious\ndifficulty just now is one upon which I must touch, though with some\nfear and trembling. A terrible weapon has lately been coming into\nperfection, to which its inventors have given the elegant name of a\n\"boom\". The principle is--so far as I can understand--that the right\nframe of mind for dealing with the gravest problems is to generate a\nstate of violent excitement, to adopt any remedy, real or supposed,\nwhich suggests itself at the moment, and to denounce everybody who\nsuggests difficulties as a cynic or a cold-blooded egoist; and\ntherefore to treat grave chronic and organic diseases of society by\nspasmodic impulses, to make stringent laws without condescending to ask\nwhether they will work, and try the boldest experiments without\nconsidering whether they are likely to increase or diminish the evil.\nThis, as some people think, is one of the inevitable consequences of\ndemocracy. I hope that it is not; but if it is, it is one of the\ninevitable consequences against which we, as cultivators of science,\nshould most seriously protest, in the hope that we may some day find\nPhilip sober enough to consider the consequences of his actions under\nthe influence of spiritual intoxication. Professor Huxley, in one of\nthose smart passages of arms which so forcibly illustrated his\nintellectual vigour, gave an apologue, which I wish that I could steal\nwithout acknowledgment. He spoke of an Irish carman who, on being told\nthat he was not going in the right direction, replied that he was at\nany rate going at a great pace. The scientific doctrine is simply that\nwe should look at the map before we set out for Utopia; and I think\nthat a doctrine which requires to be enforced by every means in our\npower.\n\nThis tendency, of course, comes out prominently in the important\ndiscussions of social and economic problems. That is a matter upon\nwhich I cannot now dwell, and which has been sufficiently emphasised by\nmany eminent writers. If modern orators confined themselves to urging\nthat the old economists exaggerated their claims to scientific\naccuracy, and were, in point of fact, guilty of many logical errors and\nhasty generalisations, I, at least, could fully agree with them. But\nthe general impression seems to be, that because the old arguments were\nfaulty, all argument is irrelevant: that because the alleged laws of\nnature were wrongly stated, there are no laws of nature at all; and\nthat we may proceed to rearrange society, to fix the rate of wages or\nthe rent of land or the incomes of capitalists without any reference at\nall to the conditions under which social arrangements have been worked\nout and actually carried on. This is, in short, to sanction the most\nobvious weakness of popular movements, and to assure the ignorant and\nthoughtless that they are above reason, and their crude guesses\ninfallible guides to truth.\n\nOne view which tries to give some plausibility to these assumptions is\nsummed up in the now current phrase about the \"masses\" and the\n\"classes\". We all know the regular process of logical fence of the\njournalist, _i.e._, thrust and parry, which is repeated whenever such\nquestions turn up. The Radical calls his opponent Tory and reactionary.\nThe wicked Tory, it is said, thinks only of the class interest; believes\nthat the nation exists for the sake of the House of Lords; lives in a\nlittle citadel provided with all the good things, which he is ready to\ndefend against every attempt at a juster distribution; selfishness is\nhis one motive; repression by brute force his only theory of government;\nand his views of life in general are those of the wicked cynics who gaze\nfrom their windows in Pall Mall. Then we have the roll of all the abuses\nwhich have been defended by this miscreant and his like since the days\nof George III.--slavery and capital punishment, and pensions and\nsinecures, and protection and the church establishment. The popular\ninstinct, it is urged, has been in the right in so many cases that there\nis an enormous presumption in favour of the infallibility of all its\ninstincts. The reply, of course, is equally obvious. Your boast, says\nthe Conservative, that you please the masses, is in effect a confession\nthat you truckle to the mob. You mean that your doctrines spread in\nproportion to the ignorance of your constituents. You prove the merits\nof your theories by showing that they disgust people the more they\nthink. The Liberalism of a district, it has been argued, varies with the\nnumber of convictions for drunkenness. If it be easy to denounce our\nancestors, it is also easy to show how they built up the great empire\nwhich now shelters us; and how, if they had truckled, as you would have\nus truckle, to popular whims, we should have been deprived of our\ncommerce, our manufactures, and our position in the civilised world. And\nthen it is easy to produce a list of all the base demagogues who have\nmisled popular impatience and ignorance from the days of Cleon to those\nof the French Convention, or of the last disreputable \"boss\" bloated\nwith corruption and the plunder of some great American city. This is the\nresult, it is suggested, of pandering to the mob, and generally\nostracising the intelligent citizen.\n\nI merely sketch the familiar arguments which any journalist has ready\nat hand, and, by a sufficient spice of references to actual affairs,\ncan work up into any number of pointed leading articles. I will only\nobserve that such arguments seem to me to illustrate that curious\nunreality of political theories of which I have spoken. It seems to be\ntacitly assumed on both sides, that votes are determined by a process\nof genuine reasoning. One side may be ignorant and the other\nprejudiced; but the arguments I have recapitulated seem to imply the\nassumption that the constituents really reflect upon the reasons for\nand against the measures proposed, and make up their minds accordingly.\nThey are spoken of as though they were a body of experts, investigating\na scientific doctrine, or at least a jury guided by the evidence laid\nbefore them. Upon that assumption, as it seems to me, the moral would\nbe that the whole system is a palpable absurdity. The vast majority of\nvoters scarcely think at all, and would be incapable of judging if they\ndid. Hundreds of thousands care more for Dr. Grace's last score or the\nwinner of the Derby than for any political question whatever. If they\nhave opinions, they have neither the training nor the knowledge\nnecessary to form any conclusion whatever. Consider the state of mind\nof the average voter--of nine men out of ten, say, whom you meet in the\nStrand. Ask yourselves honestly what value you would attach to his\nopinion upon any great question--say, of foreign politics or political\neconomy. Has he ever really thought about them? Is he superficially\nacquainted with any of the relevant facts? Is he even capable of the\nimaginative effort necessary to set before him the vast interests often\naffected? And would the simple fact that he said \"Yes\" to a given\nquestion establish in your mind the smallest presumption against the\nprobability that the right answer would be \"No\"? What are the chances\nthat a majority of people, of whom not one in a hundred has any\nqualifications for judging, will give a right judgment? Yet that is the\ntest suggested by most of the conventional arguments on both sides; for\nI do not say this as intending to accept the anti-democratic\napplication. It is just as applicable, I believe, to the educated and\nthe well-off. I need not labour the point, which is sufficiently\nobvious. I am quite convinced that, for example, the voters for a\nuniversity will be guided by unreasonable prejudices as the voters for\na metropolitan constituency. In some ways they will be worse. To find\npeople who believe honestly in antiquated prejudices, you must go to\nthe people who have been trained to believe them. An ecclesiastical\nseminary can manage to drill the pupils into professing absurdities\nfrom which average common sense would shrink, and only supply logical\nmachinery for warring against reason. The reference to enlightened\naristocracies is common enough; but I cannot discover that, \"taken in a\nlump,\" any particular aristocracy cannot be as narrow-minded,\nshort-sighted, and selfish, as the most rampant democracy. In point of\nfact, we all know that political action is determined by instinct\nrather than by reason. I do not mean that instinct is opposed to\nreason: it is simply a crude, undeveloped, inarticulate form of reason;\nit is blended with prejudices for which no reason is assigned, or even\nregarded as requisite. Such blind instincts, implying at most a kind of\ngroping after error, necessarily govern the majority of men of all\nclasses, in political as in other movements. The old apologists used to\nargue on the hypothesis that men must have accepted Christianity on the\nstrength of a serious inquiry into the evidences. The fallacy of the\ndoctrine is sufficiently plain: they accepted it because it suited them\non the whole, and was fitted, no doubt, to their intellectual needs,\nbut was also fitted to their emotional and moral needs as developed\nunder certain social conditions. The inference from the general\nacceptance of any theory is not that it is true, but that it is true\nenough to satisfy the very feeble demand for logic--that it is not\npalpably absurd or self-contradictory; and that, for some reason or\nother, it satisfies also the imagination, the affections, and the\naspirations of the believers. Not to go into other questions, this\nsingle remark indicates, I think, the attitude which the scientific\nobserver would adopt in regard to this ancient controversy. He would\nstudy the causes as well as the alleged reasons assignable for any\ngeneral instinct, and admit that its existence is one of the primary\ndata which have to be taken into account. To denounce democracy or\naristocracy is easy enough; and it saves trouble to assume that God is\non one side and the devil on the other. The true method, I take it, is\nthat which was indicated by Tocqueville's great book upon democracy in\nAmerica; a book which, if I may trust my own impressions, though\nnecessarily imperfect as regards America, is a perfectly admirable\nexample of the fruitful method of studying such problems. Though an\naristocrat by birth and breeding, Tocqueville had the wisdom to examine\ndemocratic beliefs and institutions in a thoroughly impartial spirit;\nand, instead of simply denouncing or admiring, to trace the genesis of\nthe prevalent ideas and their close connection with the general state\nof social development. An inquiry conducted in that spirit would not\nlead to the absolute dogmatic conclusions in which the superficial\ncontroversialist delights. It would show, perhaps, that there was at\nleast this much truth in the democratic contention, that the masses\nare, by their position, exempt from some of the prejudices which are\ningrained in the members of a smaller caste; that they are therefore\nmore accessible to certain moral considerations, and more anxious to\npromote the greatest happiness of the greater number. But it might also\nshow how the weakness of the ignorant and untrained mind produces the\ncharacteristic evils of sentimentalism and impatience, of a belief in\nthe omnipotence of legislation, and an excessive jealousy of all\nsuperiorities; and might possibly, too, exhibit certain merits which\nare impressed upon the aristocrat by his sense of the obligations of\nnobility. I do not in the least mean to express any opinion about such\nquestions; I desire only to indicate the temper in which I conceive\nthat they should be approached.\n\nI have lived long enough to be utterly unable to believe--though some\nolder politicians than I seem still to believe, especially on the eve\nof a dissolution--that any of our party lines coincide with the lines\nbetween good and bad, wise and foolish. Every one, of course, will\nrepudiate the abstract theory. Yet we may notice how constantly it is\nassumed; and can see to what fallacies it leads when we look for a\nmoment at the historical questions which no longer unite party feeling.\nFew, indeed, even of our historians, can write without taking party\nviews of such questions. Even the candid and impartial seem to deserve\nthese epithets chiefly because they want imagination, and can cast\nblame or applaud alternately, because they do not enter into the real\nspirit of either party. Their views are sometimes a medley of\ninconsistent theories, rather than a deeper view which might reconcile\napparent inconsistencies. I will only mention one point which often\nstrikes me, and may lead to a relevant remark. Every royalist\nhistorian, we all know, labours to prove that Charles I. was a saint,\nand Cromwell a hypocrite. The view was natural at the time of the civil\nwars; but it now should suggest an obvious logical dilemma. If the\nmonarchical theory which Charles represented was sound, and Charles was\nalso a wise and good man, what caused the rebellion? A perfect man\ndriving a perfect engine should surely not have run it off the rails.\nThe royalist ought to seek to prove that Charles was a fool and a\nknave, to account for the collapse of royalty; and the case against\nroyalty is all the stronger, if you could show that Charles, in spite\nof impeccable virtue, was forced by his position to end on the\nscaffold. Choose between him and the system which he applied. So\nCatholics and conservatives are never tired of denouncing Henry VIII.\nand the French revolutionists. So far as I can guess (I know very\nlittle about it), their case is a very strong one. I somehow believe,\nin spite of Froude, that Henry VIII. was a tyrant; and eulogies upon\nthe reign of terror generally convince me that a greater set of\nscoundrels seldom came to the surface, than the perpetrators of those\nenormities. But then the real inference is, to my mind, very different.\nHenry VIII. was the product of the previous time; the ultimate outcome\nof that ideal state of things in which the church had its own way\nduring the ages of truth. Must not the system have been wrong, when it\nhad so lost all moral weight as to be at the mercy of a ruffianly\nplunderer? And so, as we all admit now, the strongest condemnation of\nthe old French _r\u00e9gime_ is the fact that it had not only produced\nsuch a set of miscreants as those who have cast permanent odium even\nupon sound principles; but that its king and rulers went down before\nthem without even an attempt at manly resistance. A revolution does\nnot, perhaps, justify itself; it does not prove that its leaders judged\nrightly and acted virtuously: but, beyond a doubt, it condemns the\nprevious order which brought it about. What a horrid thing is the\nexplosion! Why, is the obvious answer, did you allow the explosive\nmaterials to accumulate, till the first match must fire the train? The\ngreatest blot upon Burke, I need hardly say, is that his passions\nblinded him in his age, to this, as we now see, inevitable conclusion.\n\nThe old-fashioned view, I fancy, is a relic of that view of history in\nwhich all the great events and changes were personified in some\nindividual hero. The old \"legislators,\" Lycurgus and Solon and the\nlike, were supposed to have created the institutions which were really\nthe products of a slow growth. When a favourable change due to\neconomical causes took place in the position of the French peasantry,\nthe peasants, says Michelet somewhere, called it \"good king Henry\".\nCarlyle's theory of hero worship is partly an application of the same\nmode of thought. You embody your principle in some concrete person;\ncanonise him or damn him, as he represents truth or error; and take\ncredit to yourself for insight and for a lofty morality. It becomes a\nkind of blasphemy to suggest that your great man, who thus stands for\nan inspired leader dropped straight out of heaven, was probably at best\nvery imperfect, one-sided, and at least as much of a product as a\nproducer. The crudity of the method is even regarded as a proof of its\nmorality. Your common-place moralist likes to call everything black or\nwhite; he despises all qualifications as casuistical refinements, and\nplumes himself on the decisive verdict, saint or sinner, with which he\nlabels the adherents and opponents of his party. And yet we know as a\nfact, how absurd are such judgments. We know how men are betrayed into\nbad causes from good motives, or put on the right side because it\nhappens to harmonise with their lower interests. Saints--so we are\ntold--have been the cruellest persecutors; and kings, acting from\npurely selfish ambition, have consolidated nations or crushed effete\nand mischievous institutions. If we can make up our minds as to which\nwas, on the whole, the best cause,--and, generally speaking, both sides\nrepresented some sound principle,--it does not follow that it was also\nthe cause of all the best men. Before we can judge of the individual,\nwe must answer a hundred difficult questions: If he took the right\nside, did he take it from the right motives? Was it from personal\nambition or pure patriotism? Did he see what was the real question at\nissue? Did he foresee the inevitable effect of the measures which he\nadvocated? If he did not see, was it because he was human, and\ntherefore short-sighted; or because he was brutal, and therefore\nwanting in sympathy; or because he had intellectual defects, which made\nit impossible for him to escape from the common illusions of the time?\nThese, and any number of similar difficulties, arise when we try to\njudge of the great men who form landmarks in our history, from the time\nof Boadicea to that of Queen Victoria. They are always amusing, and\nsometimes important; but there is always a danger that they may warp\nour views of the vital facts. The beauty of Mary Queen of Scots still\ndisqualifies many people from judging calmly the great issues of a most\nimportant historical epoch. I will leave it to you to apply this to our\nviews of modern politics, and judge the value of the ordinary\nassumption which assumes that all good men must be on one side.\n\nNow we may say that the remedy for such illusions points to the\nimportance of a doctrine which is by no means new, but which has, I\nthink, bearings not always recognised. We have been told, again and\nagain, since Plato wrote his _Republic_, that society is an organism. It\nis replied that this is at best an analogy upon which too great stress\nmust not be laid; and we are warned against the fanciful comparisons\nwhich some writers have drawn between the body corporate and the actual\nphysical body, with its cells, tissues, nervous system, and so forth.\nNow, whatever may be the danger of that mode of reasoning, I think that\nthe statement, properly understood, corresponds to a simple logical\ncanon too often neglected in historical and political reasonings. It\nmeans, I take it, in the first place, that every man is a product as\nwell as a producer; that there is no such thing as the imaginary\nindividual with fixed properties, whom theorists are apt to take for\ngranted as the base of their reasoning; that no man or group of men is\nintelligible without taking into account the mass of instincts\ntransmitted through their predecessors, and therefore without referring\nto their position in the general history of human development. And,\nsecondly, it is essential to remember in speaking of any great man, or\nof any institution, their position as parts of a complicated system of\nactions and emotions. The word \"if,\" I may say, changes its meaning.\n\"If\" Harold had won the battle of Hastings, what would have been the\nresult? The answer would be comparatively simple, if we could, in the\nold fashion, attribute to William the Conqueror all the results in which\nhe played a conspicuous part: if, therefore, we could make out a\ndefinite list of effects of which he was the cause, and, by simply\n\"deducting\" them, after Coleridge's fashion, from the effects which\nactually followed, determine what was the precise balance. But when we\nconsider how many causes were actually in operation, how impossible it\nis to disentangle and separate them, and say this followed from that,\nand that other from something else, we have to admit that the might have\nbeen is simply indiscoverable. The great man may have hastened what was\notherwise inevitable; he may simply have supplied the particular point,\nround which a crystallisation took place of forces which would have\notherwise discovered some other centre; and the fact that he succeeded\nin establishing certain institutions or laws may be simply a proof that\nhe saw a little more clearly than others the direction towards which\nmore general causes were inevitably propelling the nation. Briefly, we\ncannot isolate the particular \"cause\" in this case, and have to remember\nat every moment that it was only one factor in a vast and complex series\nof changes, which would no doubt have taken a different turn without it,\nbut of which it may be indefinitely difficult to say what was the\nprecise deflection due to its action.\n\nIn trying to indicate the importance, I have had to dwell upon the\ndifficulty, of applying anything like scientific methods to political\nproblems. I shall conclude by trying once more to indicate why, in\nspite of this, I hold that the attempt is desirable, and may be\nfruitful.\n\nPeople sometimes say that scientific methods are inapplicable because\nwe cannot try experiments in social matters. I remember being long ago\nstruck by a remark of Dr. Arnold, which has some bearing upon this\nassertion. He observed upon the great advantage possessed by Aristotle\nin the vast number of little republics in his time, each of which was\nvirtually an experiment in politics. I always thought that this was\nfallacious somehow, and I fancy that it is not hard to indicate the\ngeneral nature of the fallacy. Freeman, upon whose services to thorough\nand accurate study of history I am unworthy to pronounce an eulogy,\nfell into the same fallacy, I fancy, when he undertook to write a\nhistory of Federal Governments. He fancied that because the Ach\u00e6an\nLeague and the Swiss Cantons and the United States of America all had\nthis point in common, and that they represented the combinations of\npartially independent States, their history would be in a sense\ncontinuous. The obvious consideration that the federations differed in\nevery possible way, in their religions and state of civilisation and\nwhole social structure, might be neglected. Freeman's tendency to be\nindifferent to everything which was not in the narrowest sense\npolitical led him to this--as it seems to me--pedantic conception. If\nthe prosperity of a nation depended exclusively upon the form of its\ngovernment, Aristotle, as Arnold remarks, would have had before him a\ngreater number of experiments than the modern observer. But the\nassumption is obviously wrong. Every one of these ancient States\ndepended for its prosperity upon a vast number of conditions--its race,\nits geographical position, its stage of development, and so forth,\nquite impossible to tabulate or analyse; and the form of government\nwhich suited one would be entirely inapplicable to another. To\nextricate from all these conflicting elements the precise influence due\nto any institutions would be a task beyond the powers of any number of\nphilosophers; and indeed the perplexity would probably be increased by\nthe very number of experiments. To make an experiment fruitful, it is\nnecessary to eliminate all the irrelevant elements which intrude into\nthe concrete cases spontaneously offered by nature, and, for example,\nto obtain two cases differing only in one element, to which we may\ntherefore plausibly attribute other contrasts. Now, the history of a\nhundred or a thousand small States would probably only present the\nintroduction of new and perplexing elements for every new case. The\ninfluence, again, of individuals, or accident of war, or natural\ncatastrophes, is greater in proportion as the State is smaller, and\ntherefore makes it more difficult to observe the permanent and\nunderlying influences. It seems to me, therefore, that the study, say\nof English history, where we have a continuous growth over many\ncenturies, where the disturbing influences of individuals or chance are\nin a greater degree cancelled by the general tendencies working beneath\nthem, we have really a far more instructive field for political\nobservation. This may help us to see what are the kinds of results\nwhich may be anticipated from sociological study undertaken in a\nserious spirit. The growth, for example, of the industrial system of\nEngland is a profoundly interesting subject of inquiry, to which we are\neven now only beginning to do justice. Historians have admitted, even\nfrom the time of Hume, that the ideal history should give less of mere\nbattles and intrigues, and more account of those deeper and more\ncontinuous processes which lie, so to speak, beneath the surface. They\nhave hardly, I think, even yet realised the full bearing and importance\nof this observation. Yet, of late, much has been done, though much\nstill remains to do, in the way of a truly scientific study of the\ndevelopment of institutions, political, ecclesiastical, industrial, and\nso forth, of this and other countries. As this tendency grows, we may\nhope gradually to have a genuine history of the English people; an\naccount--not of the virtues and vices of Mary Queen of Scots, or\narguments as to the propriety of cutting off Charles I.'s head--but a\ntrustworthy account of the way in which the actual structure of modern\nsociety has been developed out of its simpler germs. The biographies of\ngreat kings and generals, and so forth, will always be interesting; but\nto the genuine historian of the future they will be interesting not so\nmuch as giving room for psychological analyses or for dramatic\nportraits, but as indications of the great social forces which produced\nthem, and the direction of which at the moment may be illustrated by\ntheir cases. I have spoken of the history of our industrial system. To\nknow what was the position of the English labourer at various times,\nhow it was affected by the political changes or by the great mechanical\ndiscoveries, to observe what grievances arose, what remedies were\napplied or sought to be applied, and with what result,--to treat all\nthis with due reference to the whole social and intellectual evolution\nof which it formed a part, may well call forth the powers of our\nacutest and most thoroughgoing inquirers, and will, when it is done,\ngive essential data for some of the most vitally important problems of\nthe day. This is what I understand by an application of the scientific\nspirit to social and political problems. We cannot try experiments, it\nis said, in historical questions. We cannot help always trying\nexperiments, and experiments of vast importance. Every man has to try\nan experiment upon himself when he chooses his career; and the results\nare frequently very unpleasant, though very instructive. We have to be\nour own experiments. Every man who sets up in business tries an\nexperiment, ending in fortune or in bankruptcy. Every strike is an\nexperiment, and generally a costly one. Every attempt at starting a new\ncharitable organisation, or a new system of socialism or co-operation,\nis an experiment. Every new law is an experiment, rash or otherwise.\nAnd from all these experiments we do at least collect a certain number\nof general observations, which, though generally consigned to\ncopybooks, are not without value. What is true, however, is that we\ncannot try such experiments as a man of science can sometimes try in\nhis laboratory, where he can select and isolate the necessary elements\nin any given process, and decide, by subjecting them to proper\nconditions, how a definite question is to be answered. Our first\nexperiments are all in the rough, so to speak, tried at haphazard, and\neach involving an indefinite number of irrelevant conditions. But there\nis a partial compensation. We cannot tabulate the countless experiments\nwhich have been tried with all their distracting varieties. Yet in a\ncertain sense the answer is given for us. For the social structure at\nany period is in fact the net product of all the experiments that have\nbeen made by the individuals of which it is and has been composed.\nTherefore, so far as we can obtain some general views of the successive\nchanges in social order which have been gradually and steadily\ndeveloping themselves throughout the more noisy and conspicuous but\ncomparatively superficial political disturbances, we can detect the\ntrue meaning of some general phenomena in which the actors themselves\nwere unconscious of the determining causes. We can see more or less\nwhat were the general causes which have led to various forms of\nassociations, to the old guilds, or the modern factory system, to the\ntrades unions or the co-operative societies; and correcting and\nverifying our general results by a careful examination of the\nparticular instances, approximate, vaguely it may be and distantly, to\nsome such conception of the laws of development of different social\ntissues as, if not properly scientific, may yet belong to the\nscientific order of thought. Thus, when distracted by this or that\nparticular demand, by promises of the millennium to be inaugurated\nto-morrow by an Act of Parliament, or threats of some social cataclysm\nto overwhelm us if we concede an inch to wicked agitators, we may\nsucceed in placing ourselves at a higher point of view, from which it\nis possible to look over wider horizons, to regard what is happening\nto-day in its relations to slow processes of elaboration, and to form\njudgments based upon wide and systematic inquiry, which, if they do not\nentitle us to predict particular events, as an astronomer predicts an\neclipse, will at least be a guide to sane and sober minds, and suggest\nat once a humbler appreciation of what is within our power, and--I\nthink also--a more really hopeful anticipation of genuine progress in\nthe future.\n\nAll scientific inquiry is an interrogation of nature. We have, in\nBacon's grand sententious phrase, to command nature by obeying. We\nlearn what are the laws of social growth by living them. The great\ndifficulty of the interrogation is to know what questions we are to\nput. Under the guidance of metaphysicians, we have too often asked\nquestions to which no answer is conceivable, like children, who in\nfirst trying to think, ask, why are we living in the nineteenth\ncentury, why is England an island, or why does pain hurt, or why do two\nand two make four? The only answer is by giving the same facts in a\ndifferent set of words, and that is a kind of answer to which\nmetaphysical dexterity sometimes gives an air of plausibility. More\nfrequently our ingenuity takes the form of sanctioning preconceived\nprejudices, by wrapping up our conclusion in our premisses, and then\nbringing it out triumphantly with the air of a rigorous deduction. The\nprogress of social science implies, in the first place, the abandonment\nof the weary system of hunting for fruitful truths in the region of\nchimeras, and trying to make empty logical concepts do the work of\nobservation of facts. It involves, again, a clear perception of the\nkind of questions which can be profitably asked, and the limits within\nwhich an answer, not of the illusory kind, can really be expected. And\nthen we may come to see that, without knowing it, we have really been\ntrying a vast and continuous experiment, since the race first began to\nbe human. We have, blindly and unconsciously, constructed a huge\norganism which does, somehow or other, provide a great many millions of\npeople with a tolerable amount of food and comfort. We have\naccomplished this, I say, unconsciously; for each man, limited to his\nown little sphere, and limited to his own interests, and guided by his\nown prejudices and passions, has been as ignorant of more general\ntendencies as the coral insect of the reef which it has helped to\nbuild. To become distinctly conscious of what it is that we have all\nbeen doing all this time, is one step in advance. We have obeyed in\nignorance; and as obedience becomes conscious, we may hope, within\ncertain narrow limits, to command, or, at least, to direct. An enlarged\nperception of what have been the previous results may enable us to see\nwhat results are possible, and among them to select what may be worthy\nends. It is not to be supposed that we shall ever get beyond the need\nof constant and careful experiment. But, in proportion as we can\ncultivate the right frame of mind, as each member of society requires\nwider sympathies and a larger horizon, it is permissible to hope that\nthe experiments may become more intelligent; that we shall not, as has\nso often been done, increase poverty by the very remedies which are\nintended to remove it, or diverge from the path of steady progressive\ndevelopment, into the chase of some wild chimera, which requires for\nits achievement only the radical alteration of all the data of\nexperience. \"Annihilate space and time, and make two lovers happy,\" was\nthe modest petition of an enthusiast; and he would probably have been\nready to join in the prayer, \"make all men angels, and then we shall\nhave a model society\". Although in saying this my immediate moral is to\npreach sobriety, I do not intend to denounce enthusiasm, but to urge a\nnecessity of organising enthusiasm. I only recommend people not to\nventure upon flying machines before they have studied the laws of\nmechanics; but I earnestly hope that some day we may be able to call a\nballoon as we now call a cab. To point out the method, and to admit\nthat it is not laborious, is not to discourage aspiration, but to look\nfacts in the face: not to preach abandonment of enthusiasm, but to urge\nthat enthusiasm should be systematic, should lead men to study the\nconditions of success, and to make a bridge before they leap the gulf.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SPHERE OF POLITICAL ECONOMY.\n\n\nThere seem to be at present many conflicting views as to the nature of\nPolitical Economy. There is a popular impression that Political\nEconomy, or, at any rate, the so-called \"classical\" doctrine, the\ndoctrine which was made most definite by Ricardo, and accepted with\nmodifications by J. S. Mill, is altogether exploded. Their main\ndoctrines, it is suggested, were little better than mares' nests, and\nwe may set aside their pretensions to have founded an exact science.\nWhat, then, is to come in its place? Are we simply to admit that there\nis no certainty about economical problems, and to fall back upon mere\nempiricism? Everything,--shall we say?--is to be regarded as an open\nquestion. That is, perhaps, a common impression in the popular mind.\nYet, on the other hand, we may find some very able thinkers applying\nmathematical formul\u00e6 to economics; and that seems to suppose, that\nwithin a certain region they obtain results comparable in precision and\naccuracy to those of the great physical sciences. The topic is a very\nwide one; and it would be presumptuous in me to speak dogmatically. I\nwish, however, to suggest certain considerations which may, perhaps, be\nworth taking into account; and, as I must speak briefly, I must not\nattempt to supply all the necessary qualifications. I can only attempt\nto indicate what seems to me to be the correct point of view, and\napologise if I appear to speak too dogmatically, simply because I\ncannot waste time by expressions of diffidence, by reference to\nprobable criticisms, or even by a full statement of my own reasons.\n\nA full exposition would have to define the sphere of Political Economy\nby describing its data and its methods. What do we assume, and how do\nwe reason? A complete answer to these questions would indicate the\nlimits within which we can hope for valid conclusions. I will first\nrefer, briefly, to a common statement of one theory advocated by the\nold-fashioned or classical school. Economic doctrine, they have said,\nsupposes a certain process of abstraction. We have to do with what has\nbeen called the \"economic man\". He is not, happily, the real man. He is\nan imaginary being, whose sole principle of action is to buy in the\ncheapest and sell in the dearest market: a man, more briefly, who\nalways prefers a guinea--even a dirty guinea--to a pound of the\ncleanest. Economists reply to the remonstrances of those who deny the\nexistence of such a monster, by adding that they do not for a moment\nsuppose that men in general, or even tradesmen or stockbrokers, are in\nreality such beings,--mere money-making machines, stripped bare of all\ngenerous or altruistic sentiment--but simply that, as a matter of fact,\nmost people do, _ceteris paribus_, prefer a guinea to a pound; and\nthat so large a part of our industrial activity is carried on from\nmotives of this kind, that we may obtain a fair approximation to the\nactual course of affairs by considering them as the sole motives. We\nshall not go wrong, for example, in financial questions, by assuming\nthat the sole motive of speculators in the Stock Exchange is the desire\nto make money. Now, it is possible, perhaps, to justify this way of\nputting the case, by certain qualifications. I think, however, that, if\nstrictly interpreted, it is apt to cover a serious fallacy. The\n\"economic man\" theory, we may say, assumes too much in one direction,\nand too little in another. It assumes too much if it is understood as\nimplying that the desire for wealth is a purely selfish desire. A man\nmay desire to make money in order simply to gratify his own sensual\nappetites. But he may also desire to be independent; and that may\ninclude a desire to do his part in the work of society, and probably\ndoes include some desire to relieve others of a burden. The wish to be\nself-supporting is not necessarily or purely \"selfish\". And obviously,\ntoo, one great motive in all such occupations is the desire to support\na family, and one main inducement to saving is the desire to support it\nafter your own death. Remove such motives, and half the impulses to\nregular industrial energy of all kinds would be destroyed. We must,\ntherefore, give our \"economic man\" credit for motives referring to many\ninterests besides those which he buttons into his own waistcoat. And\ntherefore, too, as I have said, the assumption is insufficient. The\nvery conception of economic science supposes all that is supposed, in\nthe growth of a settled order of society. The purest type of the\n\"economic man,\" as he is sometimes described, would be realised in the\nlowest savage, as sometimes described, who is absolutely selfish, who\nknocks his child on the head because it cries, and eats his aged parent\nif he cannot find a supply of roots. But such a being could only form\nherds, not societies. Political Economy only becomes conceivable when\nwe suppose certain institutions to have been developed. It assumes,\nobviously, and in the first place, the institution of property; it\nbecomes applicable, with less qualification, in proportion to the\ngrowth of the corresponding sentiments; it takes for granted all that\nhighly elaborate set of instincts which induce me, when I want\nsomething, to produce an equivalent in exchange for it, instead of\ngoing out to take it by force. The more thorough the respect for\nproperty, the more applicable are rules of economics; and that respect\nimplies a long training in that sense of other people's rights, which,\nunfortunately, is by no means so perfect as might be desired.\n\nIt follows, then, that the economist really assumes more--and rightly\nassumes more--than he sometimes claims. He assumes what Adam Smith\nassumed at the opening of his great treatise: that is, the division of\nlabour. But the division of labour implies the organisation of society.\nIt implies that one man is growing corn while another is digging gold,\nbecause each is confident that he will be able to exchange the products\nof his own labour for the products of the other man's labour. This, of\ncourse, implies settled order, respect for contracts, the preservation\nof peace, and the abolition of force throughout the area occupied by\nthe society. And this, again, is only possible in so far as certain\npolitical and ecclesiastical and military institutions have been\ndefinitely constructed. The economic assumption is really an\nassumption--not of a certain psychological condition of the average\nman, but--of the existence of a certain social mechanism. A complete\nscience would clear up fully a problem which must occur often to all of\nus: How do you account for London? How is it that four or five millions\nof people manage to subsist on an area of a few square miles, which\nitself produces nothing? that other millions all over the world are\nengaged in providing for their wants? that food and clothes and fuel,\nin sufficient quantities to preserve life, are being distributed with\ntolerable regularity to each unit in this vast and apparently chaotic\ncrowd? and that, somehow or other, we struggle on, well or ill, by the\nhelp of a gigantic commissariat, performing functions incomparably more\ncomplex than were ever needed for military purposes? The answer\nsupposes that there is, as a matter of fact, a great industrial\norganisation which discharges the various functions of producing,\nexchanging, distributing, and so forth; and that its mutual relations\nare just as capable of being investigated and stated as the relations\nbetween different parts of an army. The men and officers do not wear\nuniforms; they are not explicitly drilled or subject to a definite code\nof discipline; and their rates of pay are not settled by any central\nauthority. But there are capitalists, \"undertakers\" and labourers,\nmerchants and retail dealers and contractors, and so forth, just as\ncertainly as there are generals and privates, horse, foot, and\nartillery; and their mutual relations are equally definable. The\neconomist has to explain the working of this industrial mechanism; and\nthe thought may sometimes occur to us, that it is strange that he\nshould find the task so difficult. Since we ourselves have made, or at\nany rate constitute, the mechanism, why should it be so puzzling to\nfind out what it is? We are cooperating in a systematic production and\ndistribution of wealth, and we surely ought not to find any\nimpenetrable mystery in discovering what it is that we are doing every\nday of our lives. Certain economists writing within this century have\noften been credited with the discovery of the true theory of rent, or,\nwhich is equally good for my purpose, of starting a false theory. Yet\nlandowners and agents had been letting farms and houses for\ngenerations; and surely they ought to have known what it was that they\nwere themselves doing. One explanation of the difficulty is, that\nwhereas an army is constituted by certain regulations of a central\nauthority, the industrial army has grown up unconsciously and\nspontaneously. Its multitudinous members have only looked each at his\nown little circle; the labourer only thinks of his wages, and the\ncapitalist of his profits, without considering his relations to the\nwhole system of which he forms a part. The peasant drives his plough\nfor wages, and buys his tea as if the tea fell like manna from the\nskies, without thinking of the curious relation into which he is thus\nbrought with the natives of another hemisphere. The order which results\nfrom all these independent activities appeared to the older economists\nas an illustration of the doctrine of Final Causes. Providence had so\nordered things that each man, by pursuing his own interests, pursued\nthe interests of all. To a later school it appears rather as an\nillustration of the doctrine by which organisms are constructed through\nthe struggle for existence and the survival of the fittest. In either\ncase, it seems as though the mechanism were made rather for us than by\nus; that it is the product of conditions which we cannot control,\ninstead of being an arrangement put together by conscious volitions.\nAnd, therefore, when the economist shows us what in fact are the\nexisting arrangements and their mutual relations, he appears to be\nmaking a discovery of a scientific fact as much as if he were\ndescribing the anatomy of some newly-discovered animal or plant.\n\nThe real assumption of the economist therefore is, as I think, simply\nthe existence of a certain industrial organisation, which has a real\nexistence as much as an army or a church; and there is no reason why\nhis description should not be as accurate as the complexity of the\nfacts allows. He is giving us the anatomy of society considered as a\nhuge mechanism for producing and distributing wealth, and he makes an\nabstraction only in the sense that he is considering one set of facts\nat a time. The military writer would describe the constitution of an\narmy without going into the psychological or political conditions which\nare of course implied, and without considering the soldiers in any\nother relations than those implied in their military services. In the\nsame way, the economist describes the army of industry, and classifies\nits constituent parts. In order to explain their mutual relations, he\nhas to make certain further assumptions, of which it would be rash to\nattempt a precise summary. He assumes as a fact, what has of course\nalways been known, that scarcity implies dearness and plenty cheapness;\nthat commodities flow to the markets where they will fetch the highest\nprices; that there is a certain gravitation towards equalisation of\nprofits among capitalists, and of wages among labourers; so that\ncapital or labour will flow towards the employments in which they will\nsecure the highest reward. He endeavours to give the greatest accuracy\nto such formul\u00e6, of which nobody, so far as I know, denies a certain\napproximate truth. So long as they hold good, his inferences, if\nlogically drawn, will also hold good. They take for granted certain\npsychological facts, such as are implied in all statements about human\nnature. But the economist, as an economist, is content to take them for\ngranted without investigating the ultimate psychological laws upon\nwhich they depend. Those laws, or rather their results, are a part of\nhis primary data, although he may go so far into psychological problems\nas to try to state them more accurately. The selfishness or\nunselfishness of the economic man has to be considered by the\npsychologist or by the moralist; but the economist has only to consider\ntheir conclusions so far as they affect the facts. So long as it is\ntrue, for example, that scarcity causes dearness, that profits attract\ncapital, that demand and supply tend to equalise each other, and so\nforth, his reasonings are justified; and the further questions of the\nethical and psychological implications of these facts must be treated\nby a different science. The question of the play of economic forces\nthus generally reduces itself to a problem which may be thus stated:\nWhat are the conditions of industrial equilibrium? How must prices,\nrates of wages, and profit be related in order that the various classes\nconcerned may receive such proportions of produce as are compatible\nwith the maintenance of the existing system of organisation? If any\nspecified change occurs, if production becomes easier or more\ndifficult, if a tax be imposed, or a regulation of any kind affects\nprevious conditions, what changes will be necessary to restore the\nequilibrium? These are the main problems of Political Economy. To\nsolve, or attempt to solve them, we have to describe accurately the\nexisting mechanism, and to suppose that it will regulate itself on the\nassumption which I have indicated as to demand and supply, the flow of\ncapital and labour, and so forth. To go beyond these assumptions, and\nto justify them by psychological and other considerations, may be and\nis a most interesting task, but it takes us beyond the sphere of\nEconomics proper.\n\nI must here diverge for a little, to notice the view of the school of\neconomists which seems to regard scientific accuracy as attainable by a\ndifferent path. Jevons, its most distinguished leader in England, says\nroundly, that political science must be a \"mathematical science,\"\nbecause \"it deals throughout with quantities\"; and we have been since\nprovided with a number of formul\u00e6, corresponding to this doctrine. The\nobvious general reply would be, that Political Economy cannot be an\nexact science because it also deals throughout with human desires. The\nobjection is not simply that our data are too vague. That objection, as\nJevons says, would, perhaps, apply to meteorology, of which nobody\ndoubts that it is capable of being made an exact science. But why does\nnobody doubt that meteorology might become an exact science? Because we\nare convinced that all the data which would be needed are expressible\nin precise terms of time and space; we have to do with volumes, and\nmasses, and weights, and forces which can be exactly measured by lines;\nand, in short, with things which could be exactly measured and counted.\nThe data are, at present, insufficiently known, and possibly the\nproblems which would result might be too complex for our powers of\ncalculation. Still, if we could once get the data, we could express all\nrelevant considerations by precise figures and numbers.\n\nNow, is this true of economic science? Within certain limits, it is\napparently true: Ricardo used mathematical formul\u00e6, though he kept to\narithmetic, instead of algebra. When Malthus spoke of arithmetical and\ngeometrical ratios, the statement, true or false, was, of course,\ncapable of precise numerical expression, so soon as the ratios were\nassigned. So there was the famous formula proving a relation between\nthe number of quarters of corn produced by a given harvest, and the\nnumber of shillings that would be given for a quarter of corn. If,\nagain, we took the number of marriages corresponding to a given price\nof corn, we should obtain a formula connecting the number of marriages\nwith the number of quarters of corn produced. The utility of\nstatistics, of course, depends upon the fact that we do empirically\ndiscover some tolerably constant and simple numerical formul\u00e6. Such\nstatistical statements are useful, indeed, not only in economical, but\nin other inquiries, which are clearly beyond the reach of mathematics.\nThe proportion of criminals in a given population, the number of\nsuicides, or of illegitimate births, may throw some light upon judicial\nand political, and even religious or ethical problems. Nor are such\nformul\u00e6 useless simply because empirical. The law of gravitation, for\nexample, is empirical. Nobody knows the cause of the observed tendency\nof bodies to gravitate to each other, and therefore no one can say how\nfar the law which represents the tendency must be universal. Still, the\nfact that, so far as we have observed, it is invariably verified, and\nthat calculations founded upon it enable us to bring a vast variety of\nphenomena under a single rule, is quite enough to justify astronomical\ncalculation.\n\nIf, therefore, we could find a mathematical formula which was, as a\nmatter of fact, verifiable in economical problems about prices, and so\nforth, we should rightly apply to mathematicians to help us with their\nmethods. But, not only do we not find any such simple relations, but we\ncan see conclusive reasons for being sure that we can never find them.\nTake, for example, the case of the number of marriages under given\nconditions. I need hardly say that it is impossible for the ablest\nmathematician to calculate whether the individual A will marry the\nindividual B. But, by taking averages, and so eliminating individual\neccentricities, he might discover that, in a given country and at a\ngiven time, a rise of prices will diminish marriages in certain\nproportion. Our knowledge of human nature is sufficient to make that\nhighly probable. But our knowledge also shows that such a change will\nact differently in different cases: there will be one formula for\nFrance, and another for England; one for Lancashire, and another for\nCornwall; one for the rich, and another for the poor; and both the\ntotal wealth of a country and its distribution will affect the rule.\nDifferences of national temperament, of political and social\nconstitution, of religion and ecclesiastical organisation, will all\nhave an effect; and, therefore, a formula true here and now must, in\nall probability, fail altogether elsewhere. The formula is, in the\nmathematical phrase, a function of so many independent variables, that\nit must be complex beyond all conception, if it takes them all into\naccount; while it must yet be necessarily inaccurate if it does not take\nthem into account. But, besides this, the conditions upon which the law\nobviously depends are not themselves capable of being accurately\ndefined, and still less of being numerically stated. Ingenious thinkers\nhave, indeed, tried to apply mathematical formul\u00e6 to psychology; but\nthey have not got very far; and it may, I think, be assumed, without\nfurther argument, that while you have to deal both with psychological\nand sociological elements, with human desires, and with those desires\nmodified by social relations, it is impossible to find any data which\ncan be mathematically stated. There is no arithmetical measure of the\nforces of love, or hunger, or avarice, by which (among others) the whole\nproblem is worked out.\n\nIt seems to me, therefore, that we must accept the alternative which is\nonly mentioned to be repudiated by Jevons, namely, that Political\nEconomy, if not a \"mathematical science,\" must be part of sociology. I\nshould say that it clearly is so; for if we wish to investigate the\ncause of any of the phenomena concerned, and not simply to tabulate from\nobservations, we are at once concerned with the social structure and\nwith the underlying psychology. The mathematical methods are quite in\ntheir place when dealing with statistics. The rise and fall of prices,\nand so forth, can be stated precisely in figures; and, whenever we can\ndiscover some approximation to a mathematical law (as in the cases I\nhave noticed) we may work out the results. If, for example, the price of\na commodity under certain conditions bears a certain relation to its\nscarcity, we can discover the one fact when the other fact is given,\nremembering only that our conclusions are not more certain than our\npremisses, and that the observed law depends upon unknown and most\nimperfectly knowable conditions. Such results, again, may be very useful\nin various ways, as illustrative of the way in which certain laws will\nwork if they hold good; and, again, as testing many of our general\ntheories. If you have argued that the price of gold or silver cannot be\nfixed, the fact that it has been fixed under certain conditions will of\ncourse lead to a revision of your arguments. But I cannot help thinking\nthat it is an illusion to suppose that such methods can justify the\nassertion that the science as a whole is \"mathematical\". Nothing,\nindeed, is easier than to speak as if you had got a mathematical theory.\nLet _x_ mean the desire for marriage and _y_ the fear of want, then\nthe number of marriages is a function of _x_ and _y_, and I can\nexpress this by symbols as well as by ordinary words. But there is no\nmagic about the use of symbols. Mathematical inquiries are not fruitful\nbecause symbols are used, but because the symbols represent something\nabsolutely precise and assignable. The highest mathematical inquiries\nare simply ingenious methods of counting; and till you have got\nsomething precise to count, they can take you no further. I cannot help\nthinking that this fallacy imposes upon some modern reasoners; that they\nassume that they have got the data because they have put together the\nformul\u00e6 which would be useful if they had the data; and, in short, that\nyou can get more out of a mill than you put into it; or, in other words,\nthat more conclusions than really follow can be got out of premisses,\nsimply because you show what would follow if you had the required\nknowledge. When the attempt is made, as it seems to me to be made\nsometimes, to deduce economical laws from some law of human desire--as\nfrom the simple theorem that equal increments of a commodity imply\ndiminishing amounts of utility--I should reply not only that the\nnumerical data are vaguely defined and incapable of being accurately\nstated, but that the attempt must be illusory because the conclusions\nare not determinable from the premisses. The economic laws do not follow\nfrom any simple rule about human desires, because they vary according to\nthe varying constitution of human society; and any conclusion which you\ncould obtain would be necessarily confined to the abstract man of whom\nthe law is supposed to hold good. Every such method, therefore, if it\ncould be successful, could only lead to conclusions about human desire\nin general, and could throw no light upon the special problems of\npolitical economy, which essentially depend upon varying industrial\norganisation.\n\nI will not, however, go further. You must either, I hold, limit\nPolitical Economy to the field of statistical inquiry, or admit that,\nas a part of sociology, it deals with questions altogether beyond the\nreach of mathematics. Like physiology, it is concerned with results\ncapable of numerical statement. The number of beats of the pulse, or\nthe number of degrees of temperature of the body, are important data in\nphysiological problems. They may be counted, and may give rise to\nmathematically expressible formul\u00e6. But the fact does not excuse us\nfrom considering the physical conditions of the organs which are in\nsome way correlated with these observed phenomena; and, in the case of\nPolitical Economy, we have to do with the social structure, which is\ndependent upon forces altogether incapable of precise numerical\nestimates. That, at least, is my view; and I shall apply it to\nillustrate one remark, which must, I think, have often occurred to us.\nPolitical Economy, that is, often appears to have a negative rather\nthan a positive value. It is exceedingly potent--so, at least, I\nthink--in dispersing certain popular fallacies; but it fails when we\nregard it as a science which can give us positive concrete \"laws\". The\ngeneral reason is, I should say, that although its first principles may\nbe true descriptions of facts, and any denial of them, or any\ninconsistent applications of them, may lead us into error, they are yet\nfar from sufficient descriptions. They omit some considerations which\nare relevant in any concrete case; and the facts which they describe\nare so complex that, even when we look at them consistently and follow\nthe right clue, we cannot solve the complicated problems which occur.\nIt may be worth while to insist a little upon this, and to apply it to\none or two peculiar problems.\n\nLet me start from the ordinary analogy. Economic inquiry, I have\nsuggested, describes a certain existing mechanism, which exists as\nreally as the physical structure described by an anatomist. The\nindustrial organism has, of course, many properties of which the\neconomist, as such, does not take account. The labourer has affections,\nand imaginations, and opinions outside of his occupation as labourer;\nhe belongs to a state, a church, a family, and so forth, which affect\nhis whole life, including his industrial life. Is it therefore\nimpossible to consider the industrial organisation separately? Not more\nimpossible, I should reply, than to apply the same method in regard to\nthe individual body. Were I to regard my stomach simply as a bag into\nwhich I put my food, I should learn very little about the process of\ndigestion. Still, it is such a bag, and it is important to know where\nit is, and what are its purely mechanical relations to other parts of\nthe body. My arms and legs are levers, and I can calculate the pressure\nnecessary to support a weight on the hand, as though my bones and\nmuscles were made of iron and whipcord. I am a piece of mechanism,\nthough I am more, and all the principles of simple mechanics apply to\nmy actions, though they do not, by themselves, suffice to explain the\nactions. The discovery of the circulation of the blood explained, as I\nunderstand, my structure as a hydraulic apparatus; and it was of vast\nimportance, even though it told us nothing directly of the other\nprocesses necessarily involved. In this case, therefore, we have an\ninstance of the way in which a set of perfectly true propositions may,\nso to speak, be imbedded in a larger theory, and may be of the highest\nimportance, though they are not by themselves sufficient to solve any\nconcrete problem. We cannot, that is, deduce the physiological\nprinciples from the mechanical principles, although they are throughout\nimplied. But those principles are not the less true and useful in the\ndetection of fallacies. They may enable us to show that an argument\nsupposes facts which do not exist; or, perhaps, that it is, at any\nrate, inconsistent because it assumes one structure in its premisses,\nand another in its conclusions.\n\nI state this by way of illustration: but the value of the remark may be\nbest tested by applying it to some economical doctrines. Let us take,\nfor example, the famous argument of Adam Smith against what he called\nthe mercantile theory. That theory, according to him, supposed that the\nwealth of nations, like the wealth of an individual, was in proportion\nto the amount of money in their possession. He insisted upon the theory\nthat money, as it is useful solely for exchange, cannot be, in itself,\nwealth; that its absolute amount is a matter of indifference, because\nif every coin in existence were halved or doubled, it would discharge\nprecisely the same function; and he inferred that the doctrine which\ntested the advantages of foreign commerce by the balance of trade or\nthe net return of money, was altogether illusory. His theory is\nexpounded in every elementary treatise on the subject. It may be urged\nthat it was a mere truism, and therefore useless; or, again, that it\ndoes not enable us to deduce a complete theory of the functions of\nmoney. In regard to the first statement, I should reply that, although\nSmith probably misrepresented some of his antagonists, the fallacy\nwhich he exposed was not only current at the time, but is still\nconstantly cropping up in modern controversies. So long as arguments\nare put forward which implicitly involve an erroneous, because\nself-contradictory, conception of the true functions of money, it is\nessential to keep in mind these first principles, however obvious they\nmay be in an abstract statement. Euclid's axioms are useful because\nthey are self-evident; and so long as people make mistakes in geometry,\nit will be necessary to expose their blundering by bringing out the\ncontradictions involved. As Hobbes observed, people would dispute even\ngeometrical axioms if they had an interest in doing so; and, certainly,\nthey are ready to dispute the plainest doctrines about money. The other\nremark, that we cannot deduce a complete theory from the axiom is, of\ncourse, true. Thus, for example, although the doctrine may be\nunimpeachable, there is a difficulty in applying it to the facts. As\ngold has other uses besides its use as money, its value is not\nregulated exclusively by the principle assigned; as other things,\nagain, such as bank-notes and cheques, discharge some of the functions\nof money, we have all manner of difficult problems as to what money\nprecisely is, and how the most elementary principles will apply to the\nconcrete facts. A very shrewd economist once remarked, listening to a\nmetaphysical argument, \"If there had been any money to be made out of\nit, we should have solved that question in the city long ago\". Yet,\nthere is surely money to be made out of a correct theory of the\ncurrency; and people in the city do not seem to have arrived at a\ncomplete agreement. In fact, such controversies illustrate the extreme\ndifficulty which arises out of the complexity of the phenomena, even\nwhere the economic assumption of the action of purely money-loving\nactivity is most nearly verified. The moral is, I fancy, that while\ninaccurate conclusions are extremely difficult, we can only hope to\napproach them by a firm grasp of the first principles revealed in the\nsimplest cases.\n\nEven in such a case, we have also to notice how we have to make\nallowance for the intrusion of other than purely economic cases. The\ndoctrine just noticed is, of course, closely connected with the theory\nof free trade. The free trade argument is, I should mention, perfectly\nconclusive in a negative sense. It demonstrates, that is, the fallacy\nwhich lurks in the popular argument for protection. That argument\nbelongs to the commonest class of economic fallacies, which consists in\nlooking at one particular result without considering the necessary\nimplications. The great advantage of any rational theory is, that it\nforces us to look upon the industrial mechanism as a whole, and to\ntrace out the correlative changes involved in any particular operation.\nIt disposes of the theories which virtually propose to improve our\nsupply of water by pouring a cup out of one vessel into another; and\nsuch theories have had considerable success in economy. So far, in\nshort, as a protectionist really maintains that the advantage consists\nin accumulating money, without asking what will be the effect upon the\nvalue of money, or that it consists in telling people to make for\nthemselves what they could get on better terms by producing something\nto exchange for it, his arguments may be conclusively shown to be\ncontradictory. Such arguments, at least, cannot be worth considering.\nBut, to say nothing of cases which may be put by an ingenious disputant\nin which this may not quite apply, we have to consider reasons which\nmay be extra-economical. When it is suggested, for example, that the\neconomic disadvantage is a fair price for political independence; or,\non the other hand, that the stimulus of competition is actually good\nfor the trade affected; or, again, that protection tends naturally to\ncorruption; we have arguments which, good or bad, are outside the\nsphere of economics proper. To answer them we have to enter the field\nof political or ethical inquiry, where we have to take leave of\ntangible facts and precise measures.\n\nThis is a more prominent element as we approach the more human side (if\nI may so call it) of Political Economy. Consider, for example, the\ndoctrine which made so profound an impression upon the old\nschool--Malthus's theory of population. It was summed up in the\nfamous--though admittedly inaccurate--phrase, that population had a\ntendency to increase in a geometrical ratio, while the means of\nsubsistence increased only in an arithmetical ratio. The food available\nfor each unit would therefore diminish as the population increased. The\nso-called law obviously states only a possibility. It describes a\n\"tendency,\" or, in other words, only describes what would happen under\ncertain, admittedly variable, conditions. It showed how, in a limited\narea and with the efficiency of industry remaining unaltered, the\nnecessary limits upon the numbers of the population would come into\nplay. If, then, the law were taken, or in so far as it was taken, to\nassert that, in point of fact, the population must always be increasing\nin civilised countries to the stage at which the lowest class would be\nat starvation level, it was certainly erroneous. There are cases in\nwhich statesmen are alarmed by the failure of population to show its old\nelasticity, and beginning to revert to the view that an increased rate\nis desirable. It cannot be said to be even necessarily true that in all\ncases an increased population implies, of necessity, increased\ndifficulty of support. There are countries which are inadequately\npeopled, and where greater numbers would be able to support themselves\nmore efficiently because they could adopt a more elaborate organisation.\nNor can it be said with certainty that some pressure may not, within\nlimits, be favourable to ultimate progress by stimulating the energies\nof the people. In a purely stationary state people might be too content\nwith a certain stage of comfort to develop their resources and attain a\npermanently higher stage. Whatever the importance of such qualifications\nof the principle, there is a most important conclusion to be drawn.\nMalthus or his more rigid followers summed up their teaching by one\npractical moral. The essential condition of progress was, according to\nthem, the discouragement of early marriages. If, they held, people could\nonly be persuaded not to produce families until they had an adequate\nprospect of supporting their families, everything would go right. We\nshall not, I imagine, be inclined to dispute the proposition, that a\ncertain degree of prudence and foresight is a quality of enormous value;\nand that such a quality will manifest itself by greater caution in\ntaking the most important step in life. What such reasoners do not\nappear to have appreciated was, the immense complexity and difficulty of\nthe demand which they were making. They seem to have fancied that it was\npossible simply to add another clause--the clause \"Thou shalt not\nmarry\"--to the accepted code of morals; and that, as soon as the evil\nconsequences of the condemned behaviour were understood,--properly\nexpounded, for example, in little manuals for the use of school\nchildren,--obedience to the new regulation would spontaneously follow.\nWhat they did not see, or did not fully appreciate, was the enormous\nseries of other things--religious, moral, and intellectual--which are\nnecessarily implied in altering the relation of the strongest human\npassion to the general constitution, and the impossibility of bringing\nhome such an alteration, either by an act of legislation or by pointing\nout the bearing of a particular set of prudential considerations.\nPolitical Economy might be a very good thing; but its expositors were\ncertainly too apt to think that it could by itself at once become a new\ngospel for mankind. Should we then infer from such criticisms that the\ndoctrine of Malthus was false, or was of no importance? Nothing would be\nfurther from my opinion. I hold, on the contrary, that it was of the\nhighest importance, because it drew attention to a fact, the recognition\nof which was essential to all sound reasoning on social questions. The\nfact is, that population is not to be treated as a fixed quantity, but\nas capable of rapid expansion; and that this elasticity may at any\nmoment require consideration, and does in fact give the explanation of\nmany important phenomena. The main fact which gave importance to\nMalthus's writings was the rapid and enormous increase of pauperism\nduring the first quarter of this century. The charitable and sentimental\nwriters of the day were alarmed, but proposed to meet the evil by a\nreckless increase of charity, either of the official or the private\nvariety. Pitt, we know, declared (though he qualified the statement)\nthat to be the father of a large family should be a source of honour,\nnot of obloquy; and the measures adopted under the influence of such\nnotions did in fact tend to diminish all sense of responsibility,\nencouraged people to rely upon the parish for the support of their\nchildren, and brought about a state of things which alarmed all\nintelligent observers. The greatest check to the evil was given by the\nnew Poor-law, adopted under the influence of the principles advocated by\nMalthus and his friends. His achievement, then, was not that he laid\ndown any absolutely correct scientific truth, or even said anything\nwhich had not been more or less said by many judicious people before his\ntime; but that he encouraged the application of a more systematic method\nof reasoning upon the great problem of the time. Instead of simply\ngiving way to the first kindly impulse, abolishing a hardship here and\ndistributing alms elsewhere, he substantially argued that society formed\na complex organism, whose diseases should be considered physiologically,\ntheir causes explained, and the appropriate remedies considered in all\ntheir bearings. We must not ask simply whether we were giving a loaf to\nthis or that starving man, or indulge in _\u00e0 priori_ reasoning as to the\nright of every human being to be supported by others; but treat the\nquestion as a physician should treat a disease, and consider whether, on\nthe whole, the new regulations would increase or diminish the causes of\nthe existing evils. He did not, therefore, so much proclaim a new truth,\nas induce reformers to place themselves at a new and a more rational\npoint of view. The so-called law of population which he announced might\nbe in various ways inaccurate, but the announcement made it necessary\nfor rational thinkers to take constantly into account considerations\nwhich are essential in any satisfactory treatment of the great problems.\nIf it were right to consider pauperism as a gulf of fixed dimensions, we\nmight hope to fill it by simply taking a sufficient quantity of wealth\nfrom the richer classes. If, as Malthus urged, this process had a\ntendency to enlarge the dimensions of the gulf itself, it was obvious\nthat the whole problem required a more elaborate treatment. By\nimpressing people with this truth, and by showing how, in a great\nvariety of cases, the elasticity of the population was a most important\nfactor in determining the condition of the people, Malthus did a great\nservice, and introduced a more systematic and scientific method of\ndiscussing the immensely important questions involved.\n\nI will very briefly try to indicate one further application of economic\nprinciples. A critical point in the modern development of the study was\nmarked by Mill's abandonment of the so-called \"wage fund theory\". That\ndoctrine is now generally mentioned with contempt, as the most\nconspicuous instance of an entirely exploded theory. It is often said\nthat it is either a falsity, or a barren truism. I am not about to\nargue the point, observing only that some very eminent Economists\nconsider that it was rather inadequate than fallacious; and that to me\nit has always seemed that the theory which has really been confuted is\nnot so much a theory which was ever actually held by Economists, as a\nformula into which they blundered when they tried to give a\nquasi-scientific definition of their meaning. It is common enough for\npeople to argue sensibly, when the explicit statements of their\nargument may be altogether erroneous. At any rate, I think it has been\na misfortune that a good phrase has been discredited; and that Mill's\nassailants, in exposing the errors of that particular theory of a \"wage\nfund,\" seemed to imply that the whole conception of a \"wage fund\" was a\nmistake. For the result has been, that the popular mind seems to regard\nthe amount spent in wages as an arbitrary quantity; as something which,\nas Malthus put it, might be fixed at pleasure by her Majesty's justices\nof the peace. Because the law was inaccurately stated, it is assumed\nthat there is no law at all, and that the share of the labourers in the\ntotal product of industry might be fixed without reference to the\neffect of a change upon the general organisation. Now, if the wage fund\nmeans the share which, under existing circumstances, actually goes to\nthe class dependent upon wages, it is of the highest importance to\ndiscover how that share is actually determined; and it does not even\nfollow that a doctrine which is in some sense a truism may not be a\nhighly important doctrine. One of the ablest of the old Economists,\nNassan Senior, after laying down his version of the theory, observes\nthat it is \"so nearly self-evident\" that if Political Economy were a\nnew science, it might be taken for granted. But he proceeds to\nenumerate seven different opinions, some of them held by many people,\nand others by writers of authority, with which it is inconsistent. And,\nwithout following his arguments, this statement suggests what I take to\nbe a really relevant defence of his reasons. At the time when the\ntheory was first formulated, there were many current doctrines which\nwere self-contradictory, and which could, therefore, best be met by the\nassertion of a truism. When the peace of 1815 brought distress instead\nof plenty, some people, such as Southey, thought it a sufficient\nexplanation to say that the manufacturer had lost his best customer,\nbecause the Government wanted fewer guns and less powder. They chose to\noverlook the obvious fact that a customer who pays for his goods by\ntaking money out of the pockets of the seller, is not an unmixed\nblessing. Then, there was the theory of general \"gluts,\" and of what is\nstill denounced as over-production. The best cure for commercial\ndistress would be, as one disputant asserted, to burn all the goods in\nour warehouses. It was necessary to point out that this theory (when\nstated in superficial terms) regarded superabundance of wealth as the\ncause of universal poverty. Another common theory was the evil effect\nof manufacturers in displacing work. The excellent Robert Owen stated\nit as an appalling fact, that the cotton manufacture supplanted the\nlabour of a hundred (perhaps it was two hundred) millions of men. He\nseems to assume that, if the machinery had not been there, there would\nstill have been wages for the hundred millions. The curious confusion,\nindeed, which leads us to speak of men wanting work, when what we\nreally mean is that they want wages, shows the tenacity of an old\nfallacy. Mandeville argued long ago that the fire of London was a\nblessing, because it set at work so many carpenters, plumbers, and\nglaziers. The Protestant Reformation had done less good than the\ninvention of hooped petticoats, which had provided employment for so\nmany milliners. I shall not insult you by exposing fallacies; and yet,\nso long as they survive, they have to be met by truisms. While people\nare proposing to lengthen their blankets by cutting off one end to sew\nupon the other, one has to point out that the total length remains\nconstant. Now, I fancy that, in point of fact, these fallacies are\noften to be found in modern times. I read, the other day, in the\npapers, an argument, adduced by some advocate, on behalf of the Eight\nHours Bill. He wished, he said, to make labour dear, and would\ntherefore make it scarce. This apparently leads to the conclusion that\nthe less people work the more they will get, which I take to be a\nfallacy. So, to mention nothing else, it is still apparently a common\nargument in favour of protection in America, that the native labourer\nrequires to be supported against the pauperised labour of Europe.\nAmericans in general are to be made richer by paying higher prices, and\nby being forced to produce commodities which they could get with less\nlabour employed on the production of other things in exchange. I will\nnot go further; for I think that no one who reads the common arguments\ncan be in want of sufficient illustrations of popular fallacies. This,\nI say, is some justification for dwelling upon the contrary truisms. I\nadmit, indeed, that even these fallacies may apply to particular cases\nin which they may represent partial truths; and I also agree that, as\nsometimes stated, the wage fund theory was not only a truism, but a\nfruitless truism. It was, however, as I believe, an attempt to\ngeneralise a very pertinent and important doctrine, as to the way in\nwhich the actual competition in which labourers and employers are\ninvolved, actually operates. If so, it requires rather modification\nthan indiscriminate denunciation; and it is, I believe, so treated by\nthe best modern Economists.\n\nI consider, then, that the Economists were virtually attempting to\ndescribe systematically the main relations of the industrial mechanism.\nThey showed what were the main functions which it, in fact, discharges.\nTheir theory was sufficient to expose many errors, especially those\nwhich arise from looking solely at one part of a complex process, and\nneglecting the implied reactions. It enabled them to point out the\ninconsistencies and actual contradictions involved in many popular\narguments, which are still very far from being destroyed. Their main\nerror--apart from any particular logical slips--was, namely, that when\nthey had laid down certain principles which belong properly to the\nprolegomena of the science, and which are very useful when regarded as\nproviding logical tests of valid reasoning, they imagined that they had\ndone a great deal more, and that the desired science was actually\nconstituted. They laid down three or four primary axioms, such as the\ndoctrine that men desire wealth, and fancied that the whole theory\ncould be deduced from them. This, if what I have said be true, was\nreally to misunderstand what they were really doing. It was to suppose\nthat you could obtain a description of social phenomena without\nexamining the actual structure of society; and was as erroneous as to\nsuppose that you could deduce physiological truths from a few general\npropositions about the mechanical relations of the skeleton. Such\ncriticisms have been made by the historical school of Economists; and\nI, at least, can fully accept their general view. I quite agree that\nthe old assumptions of the older school were frequently unjustifiable;\nnor can I deny that they laid them down with a tone of superlative\ndogmatism, which was apt to be very offensive, and which was not\njustified by their position. Moreover, I entirely agree that the\nprogress of economic science, and of all other moral sciences, requires\na historical basis; and that we should make a very great blunder if we\nthought that the creation of an economic man would justify us in\ndispensing with an investigation of concrete facts, both of the present\nday and of earlier stages of industrial evolution. But to this there is\nan obvious qualification. What do we mean by investigating facts? It\nseems to be a very simple rule, but it leads us at once to great\ndifficulties. So, as Mill and later writers have very rightly asked,\nhow are we to settle even the most obvious questions in inquiries\nwhere, for obvious reasons, we cannot make experiments, and where we\nhave not such a set of facts as would spontaneously give us the truths\nwhich we might seek by experiment? Take, as Mill suggested, such a\nquestion as free trade. We cannot get two countries alike in all else,\nand differing only in respect to their adoption or rejection of a\nprotective tariff. Anything like a thoroughgoing system of free trade\nhas been tried in England alone; and the commercial prosperity of the\ncountry since its adoption has been affected by innumerable conditions,\nso that it is altogether impossible to isolate the results which are to\nbe attributed to the negative condition of the absence of protection.\nBriefly, the result is that the phenomena with which we have to deal\nare so complex, and our power of arranging them so as to unravel the\ncomplexity is so limited, that the direct method of observation breaks\ndown altogether. Mill confessed the necessity of applying a different\nmethod, which he described with great ability, and which substantially\namounts to the method of the older Economists. If, with some writers of\nthe historical school, we admit the objections which apply to this\nmethod, we seem to be reduced to a hopeless state of uncertainty. A\ntreatise on Political Economy becomes nothing but a miscellaneous\ncollection of facts, with no definite clue or uniform method of\nreasoning. I must beg, in conclusion, to indicate what, so far as I can\nguess, seems to be the view suggested in presence of this difficulty.\n\nIf I am asked whether Political Economy, understood, for example, as\nMill understood it, is to be regarded as a science, I should have to\nadmit that I could not simply reply, Yes. To say nothing of any errors\nin his logic, I should say that I do not believe that it gives us\nsufficient guidance even in regard to economic phenomena. We could not,\nthat is, deduce from the laws accepted by Economists the necessary\nworking of any given measure--say, the effect of protection or free\ntrade, or, still more, the making of a poor-law system. Such problems\ninvolve elements of which the Economist, purely as an Economist, is an\nincompetent judge; and the further we get from those questions in which\npurely economical considerations are dominant, towards those in which\nother factors become relevant,--from questions as to currency, for\nexample, to questions as to the relations of capitalists and\nlabourers,--the greater the inadequacy of our methods. But I also hold\nthat Political Economists may rightly claim a certain scientific\ncharacter for their speculations. If their ultimate aim is to frame a\nscience of economics which shall be part of the science--not yet\nconstituted--of sociology, then I should say that what they have really\ndone--so far as they have reasoned accurately--has been to frame an\nessential part of the prolegomena to such a science. The \"laws\" which\nthey have tried to formulate are not laws which, even if established,\nwould enable us to predict the results of any given action; but they\nare laws which would have to be taken into account in attempting any\nsuch prediction. And this is so, I think, because the laws are\ndescriptions--within limits accurate descriptions--of actually existing\nfacts as to the social mechanism. They are not mere abstract\nhypotheses, in the sense sometimes attached to that phrase; but\naccounts of the plan upon which the industrial arrangements of\ncivilised countries are, as a matter of fact, constructed. Such a\nclassification and systematic account of facts is, as I should suggest,\nabsolutely necessary for any sound historical method. Facts are not\nsimply things lying about, which anybody can pick up and describe for\nthe mere pains of collecting them. We cannot even see a fact without\nreflection and observation and judgment; and to arrange them in an\norder which shall be both systematic and fruitful, to look at them from\nthat point of view in which we can detect the general underlying\nprinciples, is, in all cases, an essential process before we can begin\nto apply a truly historical method. Anything, it is said, may be proved\nby facts; and that is painfully true until we have the right method of\nwhat has been called \"colligating\" facts. The Catholic and the\nProtestant, the Conservative and the Radical, the Individualist and the\nSocialist, have equal facility in proving their own doctrines with\narguments, which habitually begin, \"All history shows\". Printers should\nbe instructed always to strike out that phrase as an erratum; and to\nsubstitute, \"I choose to take for granted\". In order to judge between\nthem we have to come to some conclusion as to what is the right method\nof conceiving of history, and probably to try many methods before\nreaching that which arranges the shifting and complicated chaos of\nphenomena in something like an intelligible order. A first step and a\nnecessary basis, as I believe, for all the more complex inquiries will\nhave to be found by disentangling the various orders of laws (if I may\nso speak), and considering by themselves those laws of industrial\ngrowth which are nearest to the physical sciences in certain respects,\nand which, within certain limits, can be considered apart, inasmuch as\nthey represent the working of forces which are comparatively\nindependent of forces of a higher order. What I should say for\nPolitical Economists is that they have done a good deal in this\ndirection; that they have explained, and, I suppose, with considerable\naccuracy, what is the actual nature of the industrial mechanism; that\nthey have explained fairly its working in certain cases where the\neconomic are practically also the sole or dominant motives; and that\nthey have thus laid down certain truths which require attention even\nwhen we take into account the play of other more complex and, as we\ngenerally say, higher motives. We may indeed hope and believe that\nsociety will ultimately be constituted upon a different system; and\nthat for the organisation which has spontaneously and unconsciously\ndeveloped itself, another will be substituted which will correspond\nmore closely to some principles of justice, and give freer scope for\nthe full development of the human faculties. That is a very large\nquestion: I only say that, in any case, all genuine progress consists\nin a development of institutions already existing, and therefore that a\nfull understanding of the working of the present system is essential to\na rational consideration of possible improvements. The Socialist may\nlook forward to a time--let us hope that it may come soon!--when nobody\nwill have any grievances. But his schemes will be the better adapted\nfor the realisation of his hopes in proportion as he has fully\nunderstood what is the part played by each factor of the existing\nsystem; what is its function, and how that function may be more\nefficiently discharged by any substitute. Only upon that condition can\nhe avoid the common error of inventing some scheme which is in\nsociology what schemes for perpetual motion are in mechanics; plans for\nmaking everything go right by condemning some existing portion of the\nsystem without fully understanding how it has come into existence, and\nwhat is the part which it plays in the whole. I think myself that a\nstudy of the good old orthodox system of Political Economy is useful in\nthis sense, even where it is wrong; because at least it does give a\nsystem, and therefore forces its opponents to present an alternative\nsystem, instead of simply cutting a hole in the shoe when it pinches,\nor striking out the driving wheel because it happens to creak\nunpleasantly. And I think so the more because I cannot but observe that\nwhenever a real economic question presents itself, it has to be argued\non pretty much the old principles, unless we take the heroic method of\ndiscarding argument altogether. I should be the last to deny that the\nold Political Economy requires careful revision and modification, and\nequally slow to deny that the limits of its applicability require to be\ncarefully defined. But, with these qualifications, I say, with equal\nconviction, that it does lay down principles which require study and\nconsideration, for the simple reason that they assert the existence of\nfacts which are relevant and important in all the most vitally\ninteresting problems of to-day.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MORALITY OF COMPETITION.\n\n\nWhen it has occurred to me to say--as I have occasionally said--that,\nto my mind, the whole truth lies neither with the individualist nor\nwith his antagonist, my friends have often assured me that I was\nillogical. Of two contradictory principles, they say, you must take\none. There are cases, I admit, in which this remark applies. It is\ntrue, or it is not true, that two and two make four. We cannot, in\narithmetic, adopt Sir Roger de Coverley's conciliatory view, that there\nis much to be said on both sides. But this logical rule supposes that,\nin point of fact, the two principles apply to the same case, and are\nmutually exclusive. I also think that the habit of taking for granted\nthat social problems are reducible to such an alternative, is the\nsource of innumerable fallacies. I hold that, as a rule, any absolute\nsolution of such problems is impossible; and that a man who boasts of\nbeing logical, is generally announcing his deliberate intention to be\none-sided. He is confusing the undeniable canon that of two\ncontradictory propositions one must be true, with the assumption that\ntwo propositions are really contradictory. The apparent contradiction\nmay be illusory. Society, says the individualist, is made up of all its\nmembers. Certainly: if all Englishmen died, there would be no English\nrace. But it does not follow that every individual Englishman is not\nalso the product of the race. Society, says the Socialist, is an\norganic whole. I quite admit the fact; but it does not follow that, as\na whole, it has any qualities or aims independent of the qualities and\naims of the constituent parts. Metaphysicians have amused themselves,\nin all ages, with the puzzle about the many and the one. Perhaps they\nmay find contradictions in the statement that a human society is both\none and many; a unit and yet complex; but I am content to assume that\nunless we admit the fact, we shall get a very little way in sociology.\n\nSociety, we say, is an organism. That implies that every part of a\nsociety is dependent upon the other parts, and that although, for\npurposes of argument, we may find it convenient to assume that certain\nelements remain fixed while others vary, we must always remember that\nthis is an assumption which, in the long run, never precisely\ncorresponds to the facts. We may, for example, in economical questions,\nattend simply to the play of the ordinary industrial machinery, without\ntaking into account the fact that the industrial machinery is\nconditioned by the political and ecclesiastical constitution, by the\nwhole social order, and, therefore, by the acceptance of corresponding\nethical, or philosophical or scientific creeds. The method is\njustifiable so long as we remember that we are using a logical\nartifice; but we blunder if we take our hypothesis for a full statement\nof the actual facts. We are then tempted, and it is, perhaps, the\ncommonest of all sources of error in such inquiries, to assume that\nconditions are absolute which are really contingent; or, to attend only\nto the action, without noticing the inevitable reactions of the whole\nsystem of institutions. And I would suggest, that from this follows a\nvery important lesson in such inquiries. To say that this or that part\nof a system is bad, is to say, by implication, that some better\narrangement is possible consistently with our primary assumptions. In\nother words, we cannot rationally propose simply to cut out one part of\na machine, dead or living, without considering the effect of the\nomission upon all the other dependent parts. The whole system is\nnecessarily altered. What, we must therefore ask, is the tacit\nimplication as well as what is the immediate purpose of a change? May\nnot the bad effect be a necessary part of the system to which we also\nowe the good; or necessary under some conditions? It is always,\ntherefore, a relevant question, what is the suggested alternative? We\ncan then judge whether the removal of a particular evil is or is not to\nbe produced at a greater cost than it is worth; whether it would be a\nprocess, say, of really curing a smoky chimney or of stopping the\nchimney altogether, and so abolishing not only the smoke but the fire.\n\nI propose to apply this to the question of \"competition\". Competition\nis frequently denounced as the source of social evils. The complaint is\nfar from a new one. I might take for my text a passage from J. S.\nMill's famous chapter on the probable future of the labouring classes.\nMill, after saying that he agrees with the Socialists in their\npractical aims, declares his utter dissent from their declamations\nagainst competition. \"They forget,\" he says, \"that where competition is\nnot, monopoly is; and that monopoly, in all its forms, is the taxation\nof the industrious for the support of indolence, if not of plunder.\"\nThat suggests my question: If competition is bad, what is good? What is\nthe alternative to competition? Is it, as Mill says, monopoly, or is\nany third choice possible? If it is monopoly, do you defend monopoly,\nor only monopoly in some special cases? I opened, not long ago, an old\nbook of caricatures, in which the revolutionary leader is carrying a\nbanner with the double inscription, \"No monopoly! No competition!\" The\nimplied challenge--how can you abolish both?--seemed to me to require a\nplain answer. Directly afterwards I then took up the newspaper, and\nread the report of an address upon the prize-day of a school. The\nspeaker dwelt in the usual terms upon the remorseless and crushing\ncompetition of the present day, which he mentioned as an incitement to\nevery boy to get a good training for the struggle. The moral was\nexcellent; but it seemed to me curious that the speaker should be\ndenouncing competition in the very same breath with proofs of its\ninfluence in encouraging education. When I was a lad, a clever boy and\na stupid boy had an equal chance of getting an appointment to a public\noffice. The merit which won a place might be relationship to a public\nofficial, or perhaps to a gentleman who had an influence in the\nconstituency of the official. The system was a partial survival of the\ngood old days in which, according to Sam Weller, the young nobleman got\na position because his mother's uncle's wife's grandfather had once\nlighted the King's pipe. The nobleman, I need hardly add, considered\nthis as an illustration of the pleasant belief, \"Whatever is, is\nright\". As we had ceased to accept that opinion in politics, offices\nwere soon afterwards thrown open to competition, with the general\nimpression that we were doing justice and opening a career to merit.\nThat the resulting system has grave defects is, I think, quite\nundeniable; but so far as it has succeeded in determining that the men\nshould be selected for public duty, for their fitness, and for nothing\nelse, it is surely a step in advance which no one would now propose to\nretrace. And yet it was simply a substitution of competition for\nmonopoly. As it comes into wider operation, some of us begin to cry out\nagainst competition. The respectable citizen asks, What are we to do\nwith our boys? The obvious reply is, that he really means, What are we\nto do with our fools? A clever lad can now get on by his cleverness;\nand of course those who are not clever are thrust aside. That is a\nmisfortune, perhaps, for them; but we can hardly regard it as a\nmisfortune for the country. And clearly, too, pressure of this kind is\nlikely to increase. We have come to believe that it is a main duty of\nthe nation to provide general education. When the excellent Miss Hannah\nMore began to spread village schools, she protested warmly that she\nwould not teach children anything which would tend to make the poor\ndiscontented with their station. They must learn to read the Bible, but\nshe hoped that they would stop short of such knowledge as would enable\nthem to read Tom Paine. Now, Hannah More deserves our gratitude for her\nshare in setting the ball rolling; but it has rolled far beyond the\nlimits she would have prescribed. We now desire not only that every\nchild in the country should be able to acquire the elements of learning\nat least; but, further, we hope that ladders may be provided by which\nevery promising child may be able to climb beyond the elements, and to\nacquire the fullest culture of which his faculties are capable. There\nis not only no credit at the present day in wishing so much, but it is\ndiscreditable not to do what lies in one's power to further its\naccomplishment. But, then, is not that to increase enormously the field\nof competition? I, for example, am a literary person, after a fashion;\nI have, that is, done something to earn a living by my pen. I had the\nadvantage at starting of belonging to the small class which was well\nenough off to send its children to the best schools and universities.\nThat is to say, I was one of the minority which had virtually a\nmonopoly of education, and but for that circumstance I should in all\nprobability have taken to some possibly more honest, but perhaps even\nworse paid, occupation. Every extension of the margin of education,\neverything which diffuses knowledge and intellectual training through a\nwider circle, must increase the competition among authors. If every man\nwith brains, whether born in a palace or a cottage is to have a chance\nof making the best of them, the capacity for authorship, and therefore\nthe number of competitors, will be enormously spread. It may also, we\nwill hope, increase the demand for their work. The same remark applies\nto every profession for which intellectual culture is a qualification.\nDo we regret the fact? Would we sentence three-quarters of the nation\nto remain stupid, in order that the fools in the remaining quarter may\nhave a better chance? That would be contrary to every democratic\ninstinct, to the highest as well as the lowest. But if I say, every\noffice and every profession shall be open to every man; success in it\nshall depend upon his abilities and merits; and, further, every child\nin the country shall have the opportunity of acquiring the necessary\nqualifications, what is that but to accept and to stimulate the spirit\nof competition? What, I ask, is the alternative? Should people be\nappointed by interest? Or is nobody to be anxious for official or\nprofessional or literary or commercial success, but only to develop his\npowers from a sense of duty, and wait till some infallible observer\ncomes round and says, \"Friend, take this position, which you deserve\"?\nSomehow I do not think that last scheme practicable at present. But,\neven in that case, I do not see how the merits of any man are to be\ntested without enabling him to prove by experiment that he is the most\nmeritorious person; and, if that be admitted, is not every step in\npromoting education, in equalising, therefore, the position from which\nmen start for the race, a direct encouragement to competition?\n\nCarlyle was fond of saying that Napoleon's great message to mankind was\nthe declaration that careers should be open to talent, or the tools\ngiven to him who could use them. Surely that was a sound principle; and\none which, so far as I can see, cannot be applied without stimulating\ncompetition. The doctrine, indeed, is unpalatable to many Socialists.\nTo me, it seems to be one to which only the cowardly and the indolent\ncan object in principle. Will not a society be the better off, in which\nevery man is set to work upon the tasks for which he is most fitted? If\nwe allowed our teaching and our thinking to be done by blockheads; our\nhard labour to be done by men whose muscles were less developed than\ntheir brains; made our soldiers out of our cowards, and our sailors out\nof the sea-sick,--should we be better off? It seems, certainly, to me,\nthat whatever may be the best constitution of society, one mark of it\nwill be the tendency to distribute all social functions according to\nthe fitness of the agents; to place trust where trust is justifiable,\nand to give the fullest scope for every proved ability, intellectual,\nmoral, and physical. Of course, such approximation to this result, as\nwe can observe in the present order of things, is very imperfect. Many\nof the most obvious evils in the particular system of competition now\nadopted, may be summed up in the statement, that the tests according to\nwhich success is awarded, are not so contrived as to secure the success\nof the best competitors. Some of them, for example, are calculated to\ngive an advantage to the superficial and the showy. But that is to say\nthat they are incompatible with the true principle which they were\nintended to embody; and that we should reform our method, not in the\ndirection of limiting competition, but in the direction of so framing\nour system that it may be a genuine application of Carlyle's doctrine.\nIn other words, in all the professions for which intellectual\nexcellence is required, the conditions should be such as to give the\nbest man the best chance, as far as human arrangements can secure that\nobject. What other rule can be suggested? Competition, in this sense,\nmeans the preservation of the very atmosphere which is necessary to\nhealth; and to denounce it is either to confirm the most selfish and\nretrograde principles, or to denounce something which is only called\ncompetition by a confusion of ideas. How easy such a confusion may be,\nis obvious when we look at the ordinary language about industrial\ncompetition. We are told that wages are kept down by competition. To\nthis Mill replied in the passage I have quoted, and, upon his own\ntheory, at any rate, replied with perfect justice, that they were also\nkept up by competition. The common language upon the subject is merely\none instance of the fallacies into which men fall when they personify\nan abstraction. Competition becomes a kind of malevolent and\nsupernatural being, to whose powers no conceivable limits are assigned.\nIt is supposed to account for any amount of degradation. Yet if, by\nmultiplying their numbers, workmen increase supply, and so lower the\nprice of labour, it follows, conversely, by the very same reasoning,\nthat if they refused to multiply, they would diminish the supply and\nraise the price. The force, by its very nature, operates as certainly\nin one direction as in the other. If, again, there is competition among\nworkmen, there is competition among capitalists. In every strike, of\ncourse, workmen apply the principle, and sometimes apply it very\neffectually, in the attempt to raise their wages. It was often argued,\nindeed, that in this struggle, the employer possessed advantages partly\ndue to his power of forming tacit combinations. The farmers in a\nparish, or the manufacturers in a business, were pledged to each other\nnot to raise the rate of wages. If that be so, you again complain, not\nof competition, but of the want of competition; and you agree that the\nlabourer will benefit, as in fact, I take it, he has undoubtedly\nbenefited, by freer competition among capitalists, or by the greater\npower of removing his own labour to better markets. In such cases, the\nvery meaning of the complaint is not that there is competition, but\nthat the competition is so arranged as to give an unfair advantage to\none side. And a similar misunderstanding is obviously implied in other\ncases. The Australian or American workman fears that his wages will be\nlowered by the competition of the Chinese; and the Englishman protests\nagainst the competition of pauper aliens. Let us assume that he is\nright in believing that such competition will tend to lower his wages,\nwhatever the moral to be drawn from the fact. Briefly, denunciations of\n\"competition\" in this sense are really complaints that we do not\nexclude the Chinese immigrant and therefore give a monopoly to the\nnative labourer. That may be a good thing for him, and if it be not a\ngood thing for the Chinaman who is excluded from the field, we perhaps\ndo not care very much about the results to China. We are so much better\nthan the heathen that we need not bother about their interests. But, of\ncourse, the English workman, when he complains of the intensity of\ncompetition, does not propose to adopt the analogous remedy of giving a\nmonopoly to one section of our own population. The English pauper is\nhere; we do not want to suppress him, but only to suppress his\npauperism; and he certainly cannot be excluded from any share in the\nfund devoted to the support of labour. The evil, therefore, of which we\ncomplain is primarily the inadequacy of the support provided,\nnot,--though that may also be complained of,--the undesirable method by\nwhich those funds are distributed. In other words, the complaint may so\nfar be taken to mean that there are too many competitors, not that,\ngiven the competitors, their shares are determined by competition,\ninstead of being determined by monopoly or by some other principle.\n\nWe have therefore to inquire whether any principle can be suggested\nwhich will effect the desired end, and which will yet really exclude\ncompetition. The popular suggestion is that the remedy lies in\nsuppressing competition by equalising the prizes. If no prizes are to\nbe won, there will so far be less reason for competing. Enough may be\nprovided for all by simply taking something from those who have too\nmuch. Now, I may probably assume that we all agree in approving the\ncontemplated end--a greater equality of wealth, and especially an\nelevation of the lower classes to a higher position in the scale of\ncomfort. Every social reformer, whatever his particular creed, would\nprobably agree that some of us are too rich, and that a great many are\ntoo poor. But we still have to ask, in what sense it is conceivable\nthat a real suppression of competition can contribute to the desired\nend. It is obvious that when we denounce competition we often mean not\nthat it is to be abolished, but that it is to be regulated and limited\nin its application. So, for example, people sometimes speak as if\ncompetition were the antithesis to co-operation. But I need hardly say\nthat individualists, as well as their opponents, may legitimately sing\nthe praises of co-operation. Nobody was more forward than Mill, for\nexample, and Mill's followers, in advocating the principles of the\nearly co-operative societies. He and they rejoiced to believe that the\nco-operative societies had revealed unsuspected virtues and capacities\nin the class from which they sprang; that they had done much to raise\nthe standard of life and to extend sympathy and human relations among\npreviously disconnected units of society. But it is, of course, equally\nobvious that they have grown up in a society which supposes free\ncompetition in every part of its industrial system; that co-operative\nsocieties, so far as the outside world is concerned, have to buy in the\ncheapest and sell in the dearest market; that the rate of wages of\ntheir members is still fixed by competition; and that they encourage\nhabits of saving and forethought which presuppose that each man is to\nhave private ends of his own. In what sense, then, can co-operation\never be regarded as really opposed to competition? Competition may\nexist among groups of men just as much as among individuals: a state of\nwar is not less a state of war if it is carried on by regiments and\narmies, instead of by mere chaotic struggles in which each man fights\nfor his own hand. Competition does not mean that there should be no\ncombination, but that there should be no monopoly. So long as a trade\nor a profession is open to every one who chooses to take it up, its\nconduct will be equally regulated by competition, whether it be\ncompetition as between societies or individuals, or whether its profits\nbe divided upon one system or another between the various classes\nconcerned. Co-operators, of course, may look forward to a day in which\nsociety at large will be members of a single co-operative society; or,\nagain, to a time in which every industrial enterprise may be conducted\nby the State. Supposing any such aspiration to be realised, the\nquestion still remains, whether they would amount to the abolition or\nstill only to the shifting of the incidence of competition. Socialists\ntell us that hitherto the labourer has not had his fair share of the\nproduce of industry. The existing system has sanctioned a complicated\nchicanery, by which one class has been enabled to live as mere\nbloodsuckers and parasites upon the rest of society. Property is the\nresult of theft, instead of being, as Economists used to assure us, the\nreward of thrift. It is hoped that these evils may be remedied by a\nreconstruction of society, in which the means of production shall all\nbe public property, and every man's income be simply a salary in\nproportion to the quantity of his labour. If we, then, ask how far\ncompetition would be abolished, we may first make one remark. Such a\nsystem, like every other system, requires, for its successful working,\nthat the instincts and moral impulses should correspond to the demands\nof the society. Absolute equality of property is just as compatible\nwith universal misery as with universal prosperity. A population made\nup of thoroughly lazy, sensual, stupid individuals could, if it chose,\nwork such a machinery so as to suppress all who were industrious,\nrefined and intelligent. However great may be the revenue of a nation,\nit is a very simple problem of arithmetic to discover how many people\ncould be supported just above the starvation level. The nation at large\nwould, on the supposed system, have to decide how its numbers and wants\nare to be proportioned to its means. If individuals do not compete, the\nwhole society has, presumably, to compete with other societies; and, in\nevery case whatever, with the general forces of nature. An indolent and\ninefficient majority might decide, if it pleased, that the amount of\nwork to be exacted should be that which would be just enough to provide\nthe simplest material necessities. If, again, the indolent and\ninefficient are to exist at all,--and we can scarcely count upon their\ndisappearance,--and if further, they are to share equally with the\nindustrious and the efficient, we must, in some way, coerce them into\nthe required activity. If every industrial organisation is to be worked\nby the State, the State, it would seem, must appeal to the only means\nat its disposal,--namely, the prison and the scourge. If, moreover, the\nidle and sensual choose to multiply, the State must force them to\nrefrain, or the standard of existence will be lowered. And, therefore,\nas is often argued, Socialism logically carried out would, under such\nconditions, lead to slavery; to a state in which labour would be\nenforced, and the whole system of life absolutely regulated by the will\nof the majority; and, in the last resort, by physical force. That\nseems, I confess, to be a necessary result, unless you can assume a\nmoral change, which is entirely different from the mere change of\nmachinery, and not necessarily implied, nor even made probable, by the\nchange. The intellectual leaders of Socialism, no doubt, assume that\nthe removal of \"injustice\" will lead to the development of a public\nspirit which will cause the total efficiency to be as great as it is at\npresent, or perhaps greater. But the mass who call themselves\nSocialists take, one suspects, a much simpler view. They are moved by\nthe very natural, but not especially lofty, desire to have more wages\nand less work. They take for granted that if their share of the total\nproduct is increased, they will get a larger dividend; and do not stop\nto inquire whether the advantage may be not more than counterbalanced\nby the diminution of the whole product, when the present incitements to\nindustry are removed. They argue,--that is, so far as they argue at\nall,--as though the quantity to be distributed were a fixed quantity,\nand regard capitalists as pernicious persons, somehow intercepting a\nlion's share of the stream of wealth which, it is assumed, would flow\nequally if they were abolished. That is, of course, to beg the whole\nquestion.\n\nI, however, shall venture to assume that the industrial machinery\nrequires a corresponding moral force to work it; and I, therefore,\nproceed to ask how such a force can be supposed to act without some\nform of competition. Nothing, as a recent writer suggests,--ironically,\nperhaps,--could be easier than to secure an abolition of competition.\nYou have only to do two things: to draw a \"ring-fence\" round your\nsociety, and then to proportion the members within the fence to the\nsupplies. The remark suggests the difficulty. A ring-fence, for\nexample, round London or Manchester would mean the starvation of\nmillions in a month; or, if round England, the ruin of English\ncommerce, the enormous rise in the cost of the poor man's food, and the\nabolition of all his little luxuries. But, if you include even a\npopulation as large as London, what you have next to do is to drill\nsome millions of people--vast numbers of them poor, reckless, ignorant,\nsensual, and selfish--to regulate their whole mode of life by a given\ncode, and refrain from all the pleasures which they most appreciate.\nThe task is a big one, and not the less if you have also to undertake\nthat everybody, whatever his personal qualities, shall have enough to\nlead a comfortable life. I do not suppose, however, that any rational\nSocialist would accept that programme of isolation. He would hold that,\nin his Utopia, we can do more efficiently all that is done under a\nsystem which he regards as wasteful and unjust. The existing machinery,\nwhatever else may be said of it, does, in fact, tend to weld the whole\nworld more and more into a single industrial organism. English workmen\nare labouring to satisfy the wants of other human beings in every\nquarter of the world; while Chinese, and Africans, and Europeans, and\nAmericans are also labouring to satisfy theirs. This vast and almost\ninconceivably complex machinery has grown up in the main unconsciously,\nor, at least, with a very imperfect anticipation of the ultimate\nresults, by the independent efforts of innumerable inventors, and\nspeculators, and merchants, and manufacturers, each of them intent, as\na rule, only upon his own immediate profits and the interests of the\nlittle circle with which he is in immediate contact. The theory is not,\nI suppose, that this gigantic system of mutual interdependence should\nbe abolished or restricted, but that it should be carried on\nconsciously, with definite and intelligible purpose, and in such a way\nas to promote the interests of every fraction of society. The whole\norganism should resemble one worked by a single brain, instead of\nrepresenting the resultant of a multitude of distracted and conflicting\nforces. The difficulties are obvious enough, nor need I dwell upon them\nhere. I will not inquire whether it does not suppose something like\nomniscience in the new industrial leaders; and whether the restless and\nmultifarious energy now displayed in discovering new means of\nsatisfying human wants could be supplied by a central body, or a number\nof central bodies, made up of human beings, and, moreover, official\nhuman beings, reluctant to try experiments and strike into new courses,\nand without the present motives for enterprise, \"Individualists\" have\nenlarged sufficiently upon such topics. What I have to note is that, in\nany case, the change supposes the necessity of a corresponding morality\nin the growth of the instincts, the public spirit, the hatred of\nindolence, the temperance and self-command which would be requisite to\nwork it efficiently. The organisation into which we are born\npresupposes certain moral instincts, and, moreover, necessarily implies\na vast system of moral discipline. Our hopes and aspirations, our\njudgments of our neighbours and of ourselves, are at every moment\nguided and moulded by the great structure of which we form a part.\nWhenever we ask how our lives are to be directed, what are to be the\nterms on which we form our most intimate ties, whom we are to support\nor suppress, how we are to win respect or incur contempt, we are\nprofoundly affected by the social relations in which we are placed at\nour birth, and the corresponding beliefs or prejudices which we have\nunconsciously imbibed. Such influences, it may perhaps be said, are of\nincomparably greater importance than the direct exhortations to which\nwe listen, or than the abstract doctrines which we accept in words, but\nwhich receive their whole colouring from the concrete facts to which\nthey conform. Now, I ask how such discipline can be conceived without\nsome kind of competition; or, rather, what would be the discipline\nwhich would remain if, in some sense, competition could be suppressed?\nIf in the ideal society there are still prizes to be won, positions\nwhich may be the object of legitimate desire, and if those positions\nare to be open to every one, whatever his circumstances, we might still\nhave the keenest competition, though carried on by different methods.\nIf, on the other hand, no man's position were to be better than\nanother's, we might suppress competition at the price of suppressing\nevery motive for social as well as individual improvement. In any\nconceivable state of things, the welfare of every society, the total\nmeans of enjoyment at its disposal, must depend upon the energy,\nintelligence, and trustworthiness of its constituent members. Such\nqualities, I need hardly say, are qualities of individuals. Unless John\nand Peter and Thomas are steady, industrious, sober, and honest, the\nsociety as a whole will be neither honest nor sober nor prosperous. The\nproblem, then, becomes, how can you ensure the existence of such\nqualities unless John and Peter and the rest have some advantage in\nvirtue of possessing them? Somehow or other, a man must be the better\noff for doing his work well and treating his neighbour fairly. He ought\nsurely to hold the positions in which such qualities are most required,\nand to have, if possible, the best chance of being a progenitor of the\nrising generation. A social condition in which it made no difference to\na man, except so far as his own conscience was concerned, whether he\nwere or were not honest, would imply a society favourable to people\nwithout a conscience, because giving full play to the forces which make\nfor corruption and disintegration. If you remove the rewards accessible\nto the virtuous and peaceful, how are you to keep the penalties which\nrestrain the vicious and improvident? A bare repeal of the law, \"If a\nman will not work, neither shall he eat,\" would not of itself promote\nindustry. You would at most remove the compulsion which arises from\ncompetition, to introduce the compulsion which uses physical force. You\nwould get rid of what seems to some people the \"natural\" penalty of\nwant following waste, and be forced to introduce the \"artificial\" or\nlegislative penalty of compulsory labour. But, otherwise, you must\nconstruct your society so that, by the spontaneous play of society, the\npurer elements may rise to the surface, and the scum sink to the\nbottom. So long as human nature varies indefinitely, so long as we have\nknaves and honest men, sinners and saints, cowards and heroes, some\nprocess of energetic and active sifting is surely essential to the\npreservation of social health; and it is difficult to see how that is\nconceivable without some process of active and keen competition.\n\nThe Socialist will, of course, say, and say with too much truth, that\nthe present form of competition is favourable to anti-social qualities.\nIf, indeed, a capitalist is not a person who increases the productive\npowers of industry, but a person who manages simply to intercept a\nshare produced by the industry of others, there is, of course, much to\nbe said for this view. I cannot now consider that point, for my subject\nto-day is the moral aspect of competition considered generally. And\nwhat I have just said suggests what is, I think, the more purely moral\naspect of the question. A reasonable Socialist desires to maintain what\nis good in the existing system, while suppressing its abuses. The\nquestion, What is good? is partly economical; but it is partly also\nethical: and it is with that part that I am at present concerned.\n\nAny system of competition, any system which supposes a reward for\nvirtue other than virtue itself, may be accused of promoting\nselfishness and other ugly qualities. The doctrine that virtue is its\nown reward is very charming in the mouth of the virtuous man; but when\nhis neighbours use it as an excuse for not rewarding him, it becomes\nrather less attractive. It saves a great deal of trouble, no doubt, and\nrelieves us from an awkward responsibility. I must, however, point out,\nin the first place, that a fallacy is often introduced into these\ndiscussions which Mr. Herbert Spencer has done a great deal to expose.\nHe has dwelt very forcibly, for example, on the fact that it is a duty\nto be happy and healthy; and that selfishness, if used in a bad sense,\nshould not mean simply regard for ourselves, but only disregard for our\nneighbours. We ought not, in other words, to be unjust because we\nourselves happen to be the objects of injustice. The parable of the\ngood Samaritan is generally regarded as a perfect embodiment of a great\nmoral truth. Translated from poetry into an abstract logical form, it\namounts to saying that we should do good to the man who most needs our\nservices, whatever be the accidents which alienate ordinary sympathies.\nNow, suppose that the good Samaritan had himself fallen among thieves,\nwhat would have been his duty? His first duty, I should say, would have\nbeen, if possible, to knock down the thief; his second, to tie up his\nown wounds; and his third, to call in the police. We should not,\nperhaps, call him virtuous for such conduct; but we should clearly\nthink him wrong for omitting it. Not to resist a thief is cowardly; not\nto attend to your own health is to incapacitate yourself for duty; not\nto apply to the police is to be wanting in public spirit. Assuming\nrobbery to be wrong, I am not the less bound to suppress it because I\nhappen to be the person robbed; I am only bound not to be\nvindictive--that is, not to allow my personal feelings to make me act\notherwise than I should act if I had no special interest in the\nparticular case. Adam Smith's favourite rule of the \"indifferent\nspectator\" is the proper one in the case. I should be impartial, and\nincline no more to severity than to lenity, because I am forced by\ncircumstances to act both as judge and as plaintiff. So, in questions\nof self-support, it is obviously a fallacy to assume that an action,\ndirected in the first instance to a man's own benefit, is therefore to\nbe stigmatised as selfish. On the good Samaritan's principle, a person\nshould be supported, _ceteris paribus_, by the person who can do\nit most efficiently, and in nine cases out of ten that person is\nhimself. If self-support is selfish in the sense that the service is\ndirectly rendered to self, it is not the less unselfish in so far as it\nis necessarily also a service to others. If I keep myself by my labour,\nI am preventing a burden from falling upon my fellows. And, of course,\nthe case is stronger when I include my family. We were all impressed\nthe other day by the story of the poor boy who got some wretchedly\nsmall pittance by his work, spent a small portion of it upon his own\nneeds, and devoted the chief part of it to trying to save his mother\nand her other children from starvation. Was he selfish? Was he selfish\neven in taking something for himself, as the only prop of his family?\nWhat may be the immediate motive of a man when he is working for his\nown bread and the bread of his family may often be a difficult\nquestion; but as, in point of fact, he is helping not only himself and\nthose who depend on him, but also in some degree relieving others from\na burden, his conduct must clearly not be set down as selfish in any\nsense which involves moral disapproval.\n\nLet us apply this to the case of competition. The word is generally\nused to convey a suggestion of selfishness in a bad sense. We think of\nthe hardship upon the man who is ousted, as much as of the benefit to\nthe man who gets in; or perhaps we think of it more. It suggests to us\nthat one man has been shut out for the benefit of his neighbour; and\nthat, of course, suggests envy, malice, and all uncharitableness. We\nhold that such competition must generate ill-will. I used--when I was\nintimately connected with a competitive system at the university--to\nhear occasionally of the evil influences of competition, as tending to\npromote jealousy between competitors. I always replied that, so far as\nmy experience went, the evil was altogether imaginary. So far from\ncompetition generating ill-will, the keenest competitors were, as a\nrule, the closest friends. There was no stronger bond than the bond of\nrivalry in our intellectual contests. One main reason was, of course,\nthat we had absolute faith in the fairness of the competition. We felt\nthat it would be unworthy to complain of being beaten by a better man;\nand we had no doubt that, in point of fact, the winners were the better\nmen; or, at any rate, were honestly believed to be the better men by\nthose who distributed honours. The case, though on a small scale, may\nsuggest one principle. So far as the end of such competitions is good,\nthe normal motives cannot be bad. The end of a fair competition is the\ndiscovery of the ablest men, with a view to placing them in the\nposition where their talents may be turned to most account. It can only\nbe achieved so far as each man does his best to train his own powers,\nand is prepared to test them fairly against the powers of others. To\nwork for that end is, then, not only permissible, but a duty. The\nspirit in which the end is pursued may be bad, in so far as a man\npursues it by unfair means; in so far as he tries to make sham\nperformance pass off for genuine; or, again, in so far as he sets an\nundue value upon the reward, as apart from the qualities by which it is\ngained. But if he works simply with the desire of making the best of\nhimself, and if the reward is simply such a position as may enable him\nto be most useful to society, the competition which results will be\nbracing and invigorating, and will appeal to no such motives as can be\ncalled, in the bad sense, selfish. He is discharging a function which\nis useful, it is true, to himself; but which is also intrinsically\nuseful to the whole society. The same principle applies, again, to\nintellectual activity in general. All genuine thought is essentially\nuseful to mankind. In the struggle to discover truth, even our\nantagonists are, necessarily, our co-operators. A philosopher, as a man\nof science, owes, at least, as much to those who differ from him, as to\nthose who agree with him. The conflict of many minds, from many sides,\nis the essential condition of intellectual progress. Now, if a man\nplays his part manfully and honourably in such a struggle, he deserves\nour gratitude, even if he takes the wrong side. If he looks forward to\nthe recognition by the best judges as one motive for his activity, I\nthink that he is asking for a worthy reward. He deserves blame, only so\nfar as his motives have a mixture of unworthy personal sentiment.\nObviously, if he aims at cheap fame, at making a temporary sensation\ninstead of a permanent impression, at flattering prejudices instead of\nspreading truth; or, if he shows greediness of notoriety, by trying to\nget unjust credit, as we sometimes see scientific people squabbling\nover claims to the first promulgation of some trifling discovery, he is\nshowing paltriness of spirit. The men whom we revere are those who,\nlike Faraday or Darwin, devoted themselves exclusively to the\nadvancement of knowledge, and would have scorned a reputation won by\nanything but genuine work. The fact that there is a competition in such\nmatters implies, no doubt, a temptation,--the temptation to set a\nhigher value upon praise than upon praiseworthiness; but I think it not\nonly possible that the competitors in such rivalries may keep to the\nhonourable path, but probable that, as a matter of fact, they\nfrequently,--I hope that I may say generally,--do so. If the fame at\nwhich a man aims be not that which \"in broad rumour lies,\" but that\nwhich \"lives and spreads aloft in those pure eyes and perfect witness\nof all-judging Jove,\" then I think that the desire for it is scarcely\nto be called a last infirmity--rather, it is an inseparable quality of\nnoble minds. We wish to honour men who have been good soldiers in that\nwarfare, and we can hardly wish them to be indifferent to our homage.\n\nWe may add, then, that a competition need not be demoralising when the\ncompetitors have lofty aims and use only honourable means. When,\npassing from purely intellectual aims, we consider the case, say, of\nthe race for wealth, we may safely make an analogous remark. If a man's\naim in becoming rich is of the vulgar kind; if he wishes to make an\nostentatious display of wealth, and to spend his money upon\ndemoralising amusement; or if, again, he tries to succeed by quackery\ninstead of by the production of honest work, he is, of course, so far\nmischievous and immoral. But a man whose aims are public-spirited, nay,\neven if they be such as simply tend to improve the general comfort; who\ndevelops, for example, the resources of the country, and introduces new\nindustries or more effective modes of manufacture, is, undoubtedly, in\nfact conferring a benefit upon his fellows, and may, so far, be doing\nhis duty in the most effectual way open to him. If he succeeds by being\nreally a more efficient man of business than his neighbours, he is only\ndoing what, in the interests of all, it is desirable that he should do.\nHe is discharging an essential social function; and what is to be\ndesired is, that he should feel the responsibility involved, that he\nshould regard his work as on one side the discharge of a social\nfunction, and not simply as a means of personal aggrandisement. It is\nnot the fact that he is competing that is against him; but the fact,\nwhen it is a fact, that there is something discreditable about the\nmeans which he adopts, or the reward that he contemplates.\n\nThis, indeed, suggests another and a highly important question--the\nquestion, namely, whether, in our present social state, his reward may\nnot be excessive, and won at too great a cost to his rivals. And,\nwithout going into other questions involved, I will try to say a\nlittle, in conclusion, upon this, which is certainly a pressing\nproblem. Competition, I have suggested, is not immoral if it is a\ncompetition in doing honest work by honourable means, and if it is also\na fair competition. But it must, of course, be added, that fairness\nincludes more than the simple equality of chances. It supposes, also,\nthat there should be some proportion between the rewards and the\nmerits. If it is simply a question between two men, which shall be\ncaptain of a ship, and which shall be mate, then the best plan is to\ndecide by their merits as sailors; and, if their merits be fairly\ntried, the loser need bear no grudge against the winner. But when we\nhave such cases as sometimes occur, when, for example, the ship is cast\naway, and it becomes a question whether I shall eat you or you shall\neat me, or, let us say, which of us is to have the last biscuit, we get\none of those terrible cases of temptation in which the strongest social\nbonds sometimes give way under the strain. The competition, then,\nbecomes, in the highest degree, demoralising, and the struggle for\nexistence resolves itself into a mere unscrupulous scramble for life,\nat any sacrifice of others. That, it is sometimes said, is a parallel\nto our social state at present. If I gave an excessive prize to the\nfirst boy in a school and flogged the second, I should not be doing\njustice. If one man is rewarded for a moderate amount of forethought by\nbecoming a millionaire, and his unsuccessful rivals punished by\nstarvation or the workhouse, the lottery of life is not arranged on\nprinciples of justice. A man must be a very determined optimist if he\ndenied the painful truth to be found in such statements. He must be\nblind to many evils if he does not perceive the danger of dulling his\nsympathies by indifference to the fate of the unsuccessful. The rich\nman in Clough's poem observes that, whether there be a God matters very\nlittle--\n\n    For I and mine, thank somebody,\n    Manage to get our victual.\n\nBut, even if we are not very rich, we must often, I think, doubt\nwhether we are not wrapping ourselves in a spirit of selfish\ncomplacency when we are returning to a comfortable home and passing\noutcasts of the street. We must sometimes reflect that our comfort is\nnot simply a reward for virtue or intelligence, even if it be not\nsometimes the prize of actual dishonesty. To shut our eyes to the mass\nof wretchedness around us is to harden our hearts, although to open our\nhands is too often to do more harm than good. It is no wonder that we\nshould be tempted to declaim against competition, when the competition\nmeans that so many unfortunates are to be crowded off their narrow\nstanding-ground into the gulf of pauperism.\n\nThis may suggest the moral which I have been endeavouring to bring out.\nLooking at society at large, we may surely say that it will be better\nin proportion as every man is strenuously endeavouring to play his\npart, and in which the parts are distributed to those best fitted to\nplay them. We must admit, too, that for any period to which we can look\nforward, the great mass of mankind will find enough to occupy their\nenergies in labouring primarily for their own support, and so bearing\nthe burden of their own needs and the needs of their families. We may\ninfer, too, that a society will be the better so far as it gives the\nmost open careers to all talents, wherever displayed, and as it shows\nrespect for the homely virtues of industry, integrity, and forethought,\nwhich are essential to the whole body as to its constituent members.\nAnd we may further say that the corresponding motives in the individual\ncannot be immoral. A desire of independence, the self-respect which\nmakes a man shrink from accepting as a gift what he can win as a fair\nreward, the love of fairplay, which makes him use only honest means in\nthe struggle, are qualities which can never lose their value, and which\nare not the less valuable because in the first instance they are most\nprofitable to their possessors. Nothing which tends to weaken such\nmotives can be good; but while they preserve their intensity, they\nnecessarily imply the existence of competition in some form or other.\n\nIt is equally clear that competition by itself is not a sufficient\npanacea. Whenever we take an abstract quality, personify it by the help\nof capital letters, and lay it down as the one principle of a complex\nsystem, we generally blunder. Competition is as far as possible from\nbeing the solitary condition of a healthy society. It must be not only\na competition for worthy ends by honourable means, but should be a\ncompetition so regulated that the reward may bear some proportion to\nthe merit. Monopoly is an evil in so far as it means an exclusive\npossession of some advantages or privileges, especially when they are\ngiven by the accidents of birth or position. It is something if they\nare given to the best and the ablest; but the evil still remains if\neven the best and ablest are rewarded by a position which cramps the\nenergies and lowers the necessity of others. Competition is only\ndesirable in so far as it is a process by which the useful qualities\nare encouraged by an adequate, and not more than an adequate, stimulus;\nand in which, therefore, there is not involved the degradation and the\nmisery on the one side, the excessive reward on the other, of the\nunsuccessful and the successful in the struggle. Competition,\ntherefore, we might say, could be unequivocally beneficial only in an\nideal society; in a state in which we might unreservedly devote\nourselves to making the best of our abilities and accepting the\nconsequent results, without the painful sense in the background that\nothers were being sacrificed and debased; crushed because they had less\nluck in the struggle, and were, perhaps, only less deserving in some\ndegree than ourselves. So long as we are still far enough from having\nrealised any such state; so long as we feel, and cannot but feel, that\nthe distribution of rewards is so much at the mercy of chance, and so\noften goes to qualities which, in an ideal state, would deserve rather\nreprobation than applause, we can only aim at better things. We can do\nwhat in us lies to level some inequalities, to work, so far as our\nopportunities enable us, in the causes which are mostly beneficial for\nthe race, to spread enlightenment and good feeling, and to help the\nunfortunate. But it is also incumbent upon us to remember carefully,\nwhat is so often overlooked in the denunciations of competition, that\nthe end for which we must hope, and the approach to which we must\nfurther, is one in which the equivocal virtue of charity shall be\nsuppressed; that is, in which no man shall be dependent upon his\nneighbour in such a sense as to be able to neglect his own duties; in\nwhich there may be normally a reciprocity of good services, and the\nreciprocity not be (as has been said) all on one side. There is a very\nexplicable tendency at present to ask for such one-sided reciprocity.\nIt is natural enough, for reasons too obvious to be mentioned, that\nreformers should dwell exclusively upon the right of every one to\nsupport, and neglect to point out the correlative duty of every one to\ndo his best to support himself. The popular arguments about \"old-age\npensions\" may illustrate the general state of mind. It is disgraceful,\npeople say, that so large a proportion of the aged poor should come to\ndepend upon the rates. Undoubtedly it is disgraceful. Then upon whom\ndoes the disgrace fall? It sounds harsh to say that it falls upon the\nsufferers. We shrink from saying to a pauper, \"It serves you right\".\nThat sounds brutal, and is only in part true. Still, we should not\nshrink from stating whatever is true, painful though it may be. It\nsounds better to lay all the blame upon the oppressor than to lay it\nupon the oppressed; and yet, as a rule, the cowardice or folly of the\noppressed has generally been one cause of their misfortunes, and cannot\nbe overlooked in a true estimate of the case. That drunkenness,\nimprovidence, love of gambling, and so forth, do in fact lead to\npauperism is undeniable; and that they are bad, and so far disgraceful,\nis a necessary consequence. In such cases, then, pauperism is a proof\nof bad qualities; and the fact, like all other facts, must be\nrecognised. The stress of argument, therefore, is laid upon the\nhardships suffered by the honest and industrious poor. The logical\nconsequence should be, that the deserving poor should become\npensioners, and the undeserving paupers. This at once opens the\namazingly difficult question of moral merit, and the power of poor-law\nofficials to solve problems which would certainly puzzle the keenest\npsychologists. Suppose, for example, that a man, without being\ndefinitely vicious, has counted upon the promised pension, and\ntherefore neglected any attempts to save. If you give him a pension,\nyou virtually tell everybody that saving is a folly; if you don't, you\ninflict upon him the stigma which is deserved by the drunkard and the\nthief. So difficult is it to arrange for this proposed valuation of a\nman's moral qualities that it has been proposed to get rid of all\nstigma by making it the right and duty of every one to take a pension.\nThat might conceivably alter the praise, but it would surely not alter\nthe praiseworthiness. It must be wrong in me to take money from my\nneighbours when I don't want it; and, if wrong, it surely ought to be\ndisgraceful. And this seems to indicate the real point. We may aim at\naltering the facts, at making them more conducive to good qualities;\nbut we cannot alter or attempt to decide by laws the degree of praise\nor blame to be attached to individuals. It would be very desirable to\nbring about a state of things in which no honest and provident man need\never fall into want; and, in that state, pauperism would be rightly\ndiscreditable as an indication of bad qualities. But to say that nobody\nshall be ashamed of taking support would be to ruin the essential\neconomic virtues, and to pauperise the nation; and to try to lay down\nprecise rules as to the distribution of honour and discredit, seems, to\nme, to be a problem beyond the power of a legislature. I express no\nopinion upon the question itself, because I am quite incompetent to do\nso. I only refer to it as illustrating the difficulties which beset us\nwhen we try to remove the evils of the present system, and yet to\npreserve the stimulus to industry, which is implied in competition. The\nshortest plan is to shut one's eyes to the difficulty, and roundly deny\nits existence. I hope that our legislators may hit upon some more\npromising methods. The ordinary mode of cutting the knot too often\nsuggests that the actually contemplated ideal is the land in which the\nchickens run about ready roasted, and the curse of labour is finally\nremoved from mankind. The true ideal, surely, is the state in which\nlabour shall be generally a blessing; in which we shall recognise the\nfact--disagreeable or otherwise--that the race can only be elevated by\nthe universal diffusion of public spirit, and a general conviction that\nit is every man's first duty to cultivate his own capacities, to turn\nthem to the best possible account, and to work strenuously and heartily\nin whatever position he has been placed. It is because I cannot help\nthinking that when we attack competition in general terms, we are, too\noften, blinding ourselves to those homely and often-repeated, and, as I\nbelieve, indisputable truths, that I have ventured to speak to-day,\nnamely, on the side of competition--so far, at least, on the side of\ncompetition as to suggest that our true ideal should be, not a state,\nif such a state be conceivable, in which there is no competition, but a\nstate in which competition should be so regulated that it should be\nreally equivalent to a process of bringing about the best possible\ndistribution of the whole social forces; and should be held to be,\nbecause it would really be, not a struggle of each man to seize upon a\nlarger share of insufficient means, but the honest effort of each man\nto do the very utmost he can to make himself a thoroughly efficient\nmember of society.\n\n\n\n\nSOCIAL EQUALITY.\n\n\nThe problem of which I propose to speak is the old dispute between\nDives and Lazarus. Lazarus, presumably, was a better man than Dives.\nHow could Dives justify himself for living in purple and fine linen,\nwhile Lazarus was lying at the gates, with the dogs licking his sores?\nThe problem is one of all ages, and takes many forms. When the old\nPuritan saw a man going to the gallows, \"There,\" he said, \"but for the\ngrace of God, goes John Bradford\". When the rich man, entering his\nclub, sees some wretched tatterdemalion, slouching on the pavement,\nthere, he may say, goes Sir Gorgius Midas, but for--what? I am here and\nhe there, he may say, because I was the son of a successful\nstock-jobber, and he the son of some deserted mother at the workhouse.\nThat is the cause, but is it a reason? Suppose, as is likely enough,\nthat Lazarus is as good a man as Midas, ought they not to change\nplaces, or to share their property equally? A question, certainly, to\nbe asked, and, if possible, to be answered.\n\nIt is often answered, and is most simply answered, by saying that all\nmen ought to be equal. Dives should be cut up and distributed in equal\nshares between Lazarus and his brethren. The dogma which embodies this\nclaim is one which is easily refuted in some of the senses which it may\nbear, though in spite of such refutations it has become an essential\npart of the most genuine creed of mankind. The man of science says,\nwith perfect truth, that so far from men being born equal, some are\nborn with the capacity of becoming Shakespeares and Newtons, and others\nwith scarcely the power of rising above Sally the chimpanzee. The\nanswer would be conclusive, if anybody demanded that we should all be\njust six feet high, with brains weighing sixty ounces, neither more nor\nless. It is also true, and, I conceive, more relevant, that, as the man\nof science will again say, all improvement has come through little\ngroups of men superior to their neighbours, through races or through\nclasses, which, by elevating themselves on the shoulders of others,\nhave gained leisure and means for superior cultivation. But equality\nmay be demanded as facilitating this process, by removing the\nartificial advantages of wealth. It may be taken as a demand for a fair\nstart, not as a demand that the prizes shall be distributed\nirrespectively of individual worth. And, whether the demand is rightly\nor wrongly expressed, we must, I think, admit that the real force with\nwhich we have to reckon is the demand for justice and for equality as\nsomehow implied by justice. It is easy to browbeat a poor man who wants\nbread and cheese for himself and his family, by calling his demands\nmaterialistic, and advising him to turn his mind to the future state,\nwhere he will have the best of Dives. It is equally easy to ascribe the\ndemands to mere envy and selfishness, or to those evil-minded agitators\nwho, for their own wicked purposes, induce men to prefer a guinea to a\npound of wages. But, after all, there is something in the demand for\nfair play and for the means of leading decent lives, which requires a\nbetter answer. It is easy, again, to say that all Socialists are\nUtopian. Make every man equal to-day, and the old inequalities will\nreappear to-morrow. Pitch such a one over London Bridge, it was said,\nwith nothing on but his breeches, and he will turn up at Woolwich with\nhis pockets full of gold. It is as idle to try for a dead level, when\nyou work with such heterogeneous materials, as to persuade a\nhomogeneous fluid to stand at anything but a dead level. But surely it\nmay be urged that this is as much a reason for declining to believe\nthat equal conditions of life will produce mere monotony, as for\ninsisting that equality in any state is impossible. The present system\nincludes a plan for keeping the scum at the surface. One of the few\nlessons which I have learnt from life, and not found already in\ncopy-books, is the enormous difficulty which a man of the respectable\nclasses finds in completely ruining himself, even by vice,\nextravagance, and folly; whereas, there are plenty of honest people\nwho, in spite of economy and prudence, can scarcely keep outside of the\nworkhouse. Admitting the appeal to justice, it is, again, often urged\nthat justice is opposed to the demand for equality. Property is sacred,\nit is said, because a man has (or ought to have) a right to what he has\nmade either by labour or by a course of fair dealings with other men. I\nam not about to discuss the ultimate ground on which the claim to\nprivate property is justified, and, as I think, satisfactorily\nestablished. A man has a right, we say, to all that he has fairly\nearned. Has he, then, a right to inherit what his father has earned? A\nman has had the advantage of all that a rich father can do for him in\neducation, and so forth. Why should he also have the father's fortune,\nwithout earning it? Are the merits of making money so great that they\nare transmissible to posterity? Should a man who has been so good as to\nbecome rich, be blessed even to the third and fourth generation? Why,\nas a matter of pure justice, should not all fortunes be applied to\npublic uses, on the death of the man who made them? Such a law, however\nimpolitic, would not be incompatible with the moral principle to which\nan appeal is made. There are, of course, innumerable other ways in\nwhich laws may favour an equality of property, without breaking any of\nthe fundamental principles. What, for example, is the just method of\ndistributing taxation? A rich man can not only pay more money than a\npoor man, in proportion to his income, but he can, with equal ease, pay\na greater proportion. To double the income of a labourer may be to\nraise him from starvation to comfort. To double the income of a\nmillionaire may simply be to encumber him with wealth by which he is\nunable to increase his own pleasure. There is a limit beyond which it\nis exceedingly difficult to find ways of spending money on one's own\nenjoyment--though I have never been able to fix it precisely. On this\nground, such plans as a graduated income-tax are, it would seem,\ncompatible with the plea of justice; and, within certain limits, we do,\nin fact, approve of various taxes, on the ground, real or supposed,\nthat they tend to shift burdens from the poor to the rich, and, so far,\nto equalise wealth. In fact, this appeal to justice is a tacit\nconcession of the principle. If we justify property on the ground that\nit is fair that a man should keep what he has earned by his own labour,\nit seems to follow that it is unjust that he should have anything not\nearned by his labour. In other words, the answer admits the ordinary\nfirst principle from which Socialism starts, and which, in some\nSocialist theories, it definitely tries to embody.\n\nAll that I have tried to do, so far, is to show that the bare doctrine\nof equality, which is in some way connected with the demand for\njustice, is not, of necessity, either unjust or impracticable. It\nmay be used to cover claims which are unjust, to sanction bare\nconfiscation, to take away motives for industry, and, briefly, may be a\ndemand of the drones to have an equal share of the honey. From the bare\nabstract principle of equality between men, we can, in my own opinion,\ndeduce nothing; and, I do not think that the principle can itself be\nestablished. That is why it is made a first principle, or, in other\nwords, one which is not to be discussed. The French revolutionists\ntreated it in this way as _\u00e0 priori_ and self-evident. No school was in\nmore deadly opposition to such _\u00e0 priori_ truths than the school of\nBentham and the utilitarians. Yet, Bentham's famous doctrine, that in\ncalculating happiness each man is to count for one, and nobody for more\nthan one, seems to be simply the old principle in a new disguise. James\nMill applied the doctrine to politics. J. S. Mill again applied it,\nwith still more thoroughness, especially in his doctrine of\nrepresentation and of the equality of the sexes. Accordingly, various\nmoralists have urged that this was an inconsistency in utilitarian\ndoctrine, implying that they, too, could make _\u00e0 priori_ first\nprinciples when they wanted them. It has become a sort of orthodox\ndogma with radicals, who do not always trouble themselves about a\nphilosophical basis, and is applied with undoubting confidence to many\npractical political problems. \"One man, one vote\" is not simply the\nformulation of a demand, but seems to intimate a logical ground for the\ndemand. If, in politics, one man is rightfully entitled to one vote, is\nit not also true that, in economics, one man should have a right to one\nincome, or, that money, like political power, should be distributed\ninto precisely equal shares? Yet, why are we to take for granted the\nequality of men in the sense required for such deductions? Since men\nare not equally qualified for political power, it would seem better\n_prim\u00e2 facie_ that each man should have the share of power and\nwealth which corresponds to his powers of using, or, perhaps, to his\npowers of enjoying. Why should we not say, \"To each man according to\nhis deserts\"? One practical reason, of course, is the extreme\ndifficulty of saying what are the deserts, and how they are to be\nascertained. Undoubtedly, equality is the shortest and simplest way\nbut, if we take it merely as the most convenient assumption, it loses\nits attractive appearance of abstract justice or _\u00e0 priori_\nself-certainty. Do a common labourer and Mr. Gladstone deserve the same\nshare of voting power? If not, how many votes should Mr. Gladstone\npossess to give him his just influence? To ask such questions is to\nshow that answering is impossible, though political theorists have, now\nand then, tried to put together some ostensible pretext for an answer.\n\nWhat, let us ask, is the true relation between justice and equality? A\njudge, to take the typical case, is perfectly just when he ascertains\nthe facts by logical inferences from the evidence, and then applies the\nlaw in the spirit of a scientific reasoner. Given the facts, what is\nthe rule under which they come? To answer that question, generally\nspeaking, is his whole duty. In other words, he has to exclude all\nirrelevant considerations, such as his own private interests or\naffections. The parties are to be to him merely A and B, and he has to\nwork out the result as an arithmetician works out a sum. Among the\nirrelevant considerations are frequently some moral aspects of the\ncase. A judge, for example, decides a will to be valid or invalid\nwithout asking whether the testator acted justly or unjustly in a moral\nsense, but simply whether his action was legal or illegal. He cannot go\nbehind the law, even from motives of benevolence or general maxims of\njustice, without being an unjust judge. Cases may arise, indeed, as I\nmust say in passing, in which this is hardly true. A law may be so\nflagrantly unjust that a virtuous judge would refuse to administer it.\nOne striking case was that of the fugitive slave law in the United\nStates, where a man had to choose between acting legally and outraging\nhumanity. So we consider a parent unjust who does not leave his fortune\nequally among his children. Unless there should be some special reason\nto the contrary, we shall hold him to be unfair for making distinctions\nout of mere preference of one child to another. Yet in the case of\nprimogeniture our opinion would have to be modified. Supposing, for\nexample, a state of society in which primogeniture was generally\nrecognised as desirable for public interests, we could hardly call a\nman unjust for leaving his estates to his eldest son. If, in such a\nstate, a man breaks the general rule, our judgment of his conduct would\nbe determined perhaps by considering whether he was before or behind\nhis age, whether he was acting from a keener perception of the evils of\ninequality or actuated by spite or regardless of the public interests\nwhich he believed to be concerned. A parent treats his children equally\nin his will in regard to money; but he does not, unless he is a fool,\ngive the same training or the same opening to all his children, whether\nthey are stupid or clever, industrious or idle. But what I wish to\ninsist upon is, that justice implies essentially indifference to\nirrelevant considerations, and therefore, in many cases, equality in\nthe treatment of the persons concerned. A judge has to decide without\nreference to bribes, and not be biassed by the position of an accused\nperson. In that sense he treats the men equally, but of course he does\nnot give equal treatment to the criminal and innocent, to the rightful\nand wrongful claimant.\n\nThe equality implied in justice is therefore to be understood as an\nexclusion of the irrelevant, and thus supposes an understanding as to\nwhat is irrelevant. It is not a mere abstract assertion of equality;\nbut the assertion that, in a given concrete case, a certain rule is to\nbe applied without considering anything outside of the rule. An ideally\nperfect rule would contain within itself a sufficient indication of\nwhat is to be relevant. All men of full age, sound mind, and so forth,\nare to be treated in such and such a way. Then all cases falling within\nthe rule are to be decided on the same principles, and in that sense\nequally. But the problem remains, what considerations should be taken\ninto account by the rule itself? Let us put the canon of equality in a\ndifferent shape, namely, that there should always be a sufficient\nreason for any difference in the treatment of our fellows. This rule\ndoes not imply that I should act in all cases as though all men were\nequal in character or mind, but that my action should in all cases be\njustified by some appropriate consideration. It does not prove that\nevery man should have a vote, but that if one man has a vote and\nanother has not, there should be some adequate reason for the\ndifference. It does not prove that every man should work eight hours a\nday and have a shilling an hour; but that differences of hours or of\npay and, equally, uniformity of hours and pay, should have some\nsufficient justification. This is a deeper principle, which in some\ncases justifies and in others does not justify the rule of equality.\nThe rule of equality follows from it under certain conditions, and has\ngained credit because, in point of fact, those conditions have often\nbeen satisfied.\n\nThe revolutionary demand for equality was, historically speaking, a\nprotest against arbitrary inequality. It was a protest against the\nexistence of privileges accompanied by no duties. When the rich man\ncould only answer the question, \"What have you done to justify your\nposition?\" by the famous phrase of Beaumarchais, \"I took the trouble to\nbe born,\" he was obviously in a false position. The demand for a\nsociety founded upon reason, in this sense that a sufficient reason\nshould be given for all differences, was, it seems to me, perfectly\nright; and, moreover, was enough to condemn the then established\nsystem. But when this demand has been so constructed as to twist a\nlogical rule, applicable to all scientific reasoning, into a dogmatic\nassertion that certain concrete beings were in fact equal, and to infer\nthat they should have equal rights, it ceased to be logical at all, and\nhas been a fruitful parent of many fallacies. Reasonable beings require\na sufficient reason for all differences of conduct, for the difference\nbetween their treatment of a man and a monkey or a white man and a\nblack, as well as for differences between treatment of rich and poor or\nwise men and fools; and there must, as the same principle implies, be\nalso a sufficient reason for treating all members of a given class\nequally. We have to consider whether, for any given purpose, the\ndifferences between human beings and animals, Englishmen and negroes,\nmen and women, are or are not of importance for our purpose. When the\ndifferences are irrelevant we neglect them or admit the claim to\nequality of treatment. But the question as to relevance is not to be\ntaken for granted either way. It would be a very convenient but a very\nunjustifiable assumption in many cases, as it might save an astronomer\ntrouble if he assumed that every star was equal to every other star.\n\nThe application of this is, I think, obvious. The _\u00e2 priori_\nassumption of the equality of men is, in some sense, easily refuted.\nBut the refutation does not entitle us to assume that arbitrary\ninequality, inequality for which no adequate ground can be assigned, is\ntherefore justifiable. It merely shows that the problem is more complex\nthan has been assumed at first sight. \"All men ought to be equal.\" If\nyou mean equal in natural capacity or character, it is enough to say\nthat what is impossible cannot be. If you propose that the industrious\nand idle, the good and bad, the wise and foolish, should share equally\nin social advantages, the reply is equally obvious, that such a scheme,\nif possible, would be injurious to the qualities on which human welfare\ndepends. If you say that men should be rewarded solely according to\ntheir intrinsic merits, we must ask, do you mean to abstract from the\nadventitious advantages of education, social surroundings, and so\nforth, or to take men as they actually are, whatever the circumstances\nto which their development is owing? To ask what a man would have been\nhad he been in a different position from his youth, is to ask for an\nimpossible solution, and one, moreover, of no practical bearing. I\nshall not employ a drunkard if I am in want of a butler, whether he has\nbecome a drunkard under overpowering temptation or become a drunkard\nfrom inherited dipsomania. But if, on the other hand, I take the man\nfor what he is, without asking how he has come to be what he is, I\nleave the source at least of all the vast inequalities of which we\ncomplain. The difficulty, which I will not try to develop further,\nunderlies, as I think, the really vital difference of method by which\ndifferent schools attempt to answer the appeal for social justice.\n\nThe school of so-called individualists finds, in fact, that equality in\ntheir sense is incompatible with the varied differences due to the\ncomplete growth of the social structure. They look upon men simply as\nso many independent units of varying qualities, no doubt, but still\ncapable of being considered for political and social purposes as equal.\nThey ask virtually what justice would demand if we had before us a\ncrowd of independent applicants for the good things of the world, and\nthe simplest answer is to distribute the good things equally. If it is\nreplied that the idle and the industrious should not be upon the same\nfooting, they are ready to agree, perhaps, that men should be rewarded\naccording to their services to society, however difficult it may be to\narrange the proportions. But it soon appears that the various classes\ninto which society is actually divided imply differences not due to the\nindividual and his intrinsic merits, but to the varying surroundings in\nwhich he is placed. To do justice, then, it becomes necessary to get\nrid of these differences. The extreme case is that of the family. Every\none probably owes more to his mother and to his early domestic\nenvironment than to any other of the circumstances which have\ninfluenced his development. If you and I started as perfectly equal\nbabies, and you have become a saint and I a sinner, the divergence\nprobably began when our mothers watched our cradles, and was made\ninevitable before we had left their knees. Consequently, the more\nthorough-going designers of Utopia have proposed to abolish this\nawkward difference. Men must be different at their birth; but we might\nconceivably arrange public nurseries which should place them all under\napproximately equal conditions. Then any differences would result from\na man's intrinsic qualities, and he might be said to be rewarded simply\naccording to his own merits.\n\nThe plan may be tempting, but has its disadvantages. There are\ninjustices, if we call all inequality injustice, which we can only\nattribute to nature or to the unknown power which makes men and\nmonkeys, Shakespeares and Stephens. And one result is that the\ncharacter and conduct of human beings depend to a great extent upon\ncircumstances, which are accidental in the sense that they are\ncircumstances other than the original endowment of the individual. In\nthis sense, maternal love, for example, is unjust. The mother loves her\nchild because it is her own, not because it is better (though of course\nit is better) than other children. So, as Adam Smith, I think,\nobserved, we are more moved by our neighbour's suffering from a corn on\nhis great toe than by the starvation of millions in China. In other\nwords, the affections, which are the great moving forces of society,\nare unjust in so far as they cause us to be infinitely more interested\nin our own little circle than in the remoter members of humanity known\nto us only by report. Without discussing the \"justice\" of this\narrangement, we shall have, I think, to admit that it is inevitable.\nFor I, at least, hold that the vague and vast organism of humanity\ndepends for its cohesion upon the affinities and attractions, and not\n_vice vers\u00e2_. My interests are strongest where my power of action\nis greatest. The love of mothers for children is a force of essential\nvalue, and therefore to be cultivated rather than repressed, for no\nforce known to us could replace it. And what is pre-eminently true in\nthis case is, of course, true to a degree in others. Burke stated this\nwith admirable force in his attack upon the revolutionists who\nexpounded the opposite principle of abstract equality. \"To be attached\nto the subdivision, to love the little platoon we belong to in society,\nis the first principle,\" he says, \"the germ, as it were, of public\naffections. It is the first link in the series by which we proceed\ntowards a love to our country and mankind.\" The assertion that they\ndesired to invert this order, to destroy every social link in so far as\nit tended to produce inequalities, was the pith of his great indictment\nagainst the French \"metaphysical\" revolutionists. They had perverted\nthe general logical precept of the sufficient reason for all\ninequalities by converting it into an assuming of the equality of\nconcrete units. They fell into the fallacy of which I have spoken; and\nmany radicals, utilitarians, and others have followed them. They\nassumed that all the varieties of human character, or all those due to\nthe influence of the social environment, through whose structure and\ninherited instincts every full-grown man has been moulded, might be\nsafely disregarded for the purpose of political and social\nconstruction. They have spoken, in brief, as if men were the equal and\nhomogeneous atoms of physical inquiry and social problems capable of\nsolution by a simple rearrangement of the atoms in different orders,\ninstead of remembering that they are dealing with a complex organism,\nin which not only the whole order but every constituent atom is also a\ncomplex structure of indefinitely varying qualities. In the recognition\nof this truth lies, as I believe, the true secret of any satisfactory\nmethod of treatment.\n\nDoes this fact justify inequality in general? Or does not the principle\nof equality still remain as essentially implied in the Utopia which we\nall desire to construct? We have to take it for granted that to each\nman the first and primary moving instinct is and must be the love of\nthe little \"platoon\" of which he is a member; that the problem is, not\nto destroy all these minor attractions, to obliterate the structure and\nreplace society by a vast multitude of independent atoms, each supposed\nto aim directly at the good of the whole, but so to harmonise and\ndevelop or restrain the smaller interests of families, of groups and\nassociations, that they may spontaneously co-operate towards the\ngeneral welfare. It is a long and difficult task to which we have to\napply ourselves; a task not to be effected by the demonstration or\napplication of a single abstract dogma, but to be worked out gradually\nby the co-operation of many classes and of many generations. If it is\nfairly solved in the course of a thousand years or so, I for one shall\nbe very fairly satisfied. But distant as the realisation may be, we may\nor rather ought to consider seriously the end to which we should be\nworking. The conception implies a distinction of primary importance\ntowards any clear treatment of the problem. We have, that is, two\ndifferent, though not altogether distinct, provinces of what I may,\nperhaps, call organic and functional morality. We may take the existing\norder for granted, and ask what is then our duty; or we may ask how far\nthe structure itself requires modification, and, if so, what kind of\nmodification. A man who assumes the existence of the present structure\nmay act justly or unjustly within the limits so prescribed. He must\ngenerally be guided in a number of cases by some principle of equality.\nThe judge should endeavour to give the same law to rich and poor; the\nparent should not make arbitrary distinctions between his children; the\nstatesman should try to distribute his burdens without favouring one\nparticular class, and so forth. A man who, in such a sense, acts justly\nmay be described as up to the level of his age and its accepted\nestablished moral ideas, and is, therefore, entitled at least to the\nnegative praise of not being corrupt or dishonest. He fulfils\naccurately the functions imposed upon him, and is not governed by what\nBentham called the sinister interests which would prevent them from\nbeing effectually discharged for the welfare of the community. But the\nproblem which we have to consider is the deeper and more difficult one\nof organic justice; and our question is what justice means in this\ncase, or what are the irrelevant considerations to be excluded from our\nmotives of conduct.\n\nBetween these two classes of justice there are distinctions which it is\nnecessary to state briefly. Justice, as we generally use the word,\nimplies that the unjust man deserves to be hanged, or, at least, is\nresponsible for his actions. What \"responsibility\" precisely implies\nis, of course, a debatable question. I only need assume that, in any\ncase, it implies that somebody is guilty of wrong-doing, for which he\nshould receive an appropriate penalty. But in organic questions it is\nnot the individual, but the race which is responsible; and we require a\nreform, not a penalty. An impatient temper leads us to generalise too\nhastily from the case of the individual to that of the country. We\nbestow the blame for all the wrongs of an oppressed nation, for\nexample, upon the nation which oppresses. But in simple point of fact,\nthe oppressed nation generally deserves (if the word can be fairly\nused) to share the blame. The trodden worm would not have been trodden\nupon if it had been a bit of a viper. Whatever the duty of turning the\nsecond cheek, it is clearly not a national duty. If we admire a Tell or\nRobert Bruce for resisting oppressors, we implicitly condemn those who\nsubmitted to oppressors. If a nation is divided or wanting in courage,\npublic spirit, and independence, it will be trampled down; and though\nwe may most rightfully blame the tramplers, it is idle to exonerate the\ntrampled. It is easy, in the same way, to make the rich solely\nresponsible for all the misery of the poor. The man who has got the\nbooty is naturally regarded as the robber. But, speaking\nscientifically, that is, with the desire to state the plain facts, we\nmust admit that if the poor are those who have gone to the wall in the\nstruggle for wealth; then, whatever unjust weapons have been used in\nthat struggle, the improvidence and vice and idleness have certainly\nbeen among the main causes of defeat. Here, as before, the question is\nnot, who is to be punished? We can only settle that when dealing with\nindividual cases. It is the question, what is the cause of certain\nevils? and here we must resist the temptation of supposing that the\nclass which in some sense appears to profit by them, or, at least, to\nbe exempt from them, has, therefore, any more to do with bringing them\nabout than the class which suffers from them.\n\nThe reflection may put us in mind of what seems to be a general law.\nThe ultimate cause of the adoption of institutions and rules of conduct\nis often the fact of their utility to the race; but it is only at a\nlater period that their utility becomes the conscious or avowed reason\nfor maintaining them. The political fabric has been clearly built up,\nin great part, by purely selfish ambition. Nations have been formed by\nenergetic rulers, who had no eye for anything beyond the gratification\nof their own ambition, although they were clear-headed enough to see\nthat their own ambition could best secure its objects by taking the\nside of the stronger social forces, and by giving substantial benefit\nto others. The same holds good pre-eminently of industrial relations.\nWe all know how Adam Smith, sharing the philosophical optimism of his\ntime, showed how the pursuit of his own welfare by each man tended, by\na kind of pre-ordained harmony, to contribute to the welfare of all.\nSince his time we have ceased to be so optimistic, and have recognised\nthe fact that the building up of modern industrial systems has involved\nmuch injury to large classes. And yet we may, I think, in great measure\nadopt his view. The fact that each man was rogue enough to think first\nof himself and of his own wife and family is not a proof or a\npresumption that he did not flourish because, in point of fact, he was\ncontributing (quite unintentionally perhaps) to the comforts of mankind\nin general. What we have to reflect is that, while the bare existence\nof certain institutions gives a strong presumption of their utility,\nthere is also a probability that when the utility becomes a conscious\naim or a consciously adopted criterion of their advantage, they will\nrequire a corresponding modification intended to secure the advantages\nat a minimum cost of evil.\n\nPremising these remarks as to the meaning of organic justice, we can\nnow come to the question of equality. Justice in its ordinary sense may\nbe regarded from one point of view as the first condition of the\nefficiency of the social organ. In saying that a judge is just, we\nimply that he is so far efficiently discharging his part in\nsociety--the due application of the law--without reference to\nirrelevant considerations. He is a machine which rightly parts the\nsheep and goats--taking the legal definition of goats and\nsheep--instead of putting some goats into the sheepfold, and _vice\nvers\u00e2_. That is, he secures the accurate application of the purely\nlegal rule. Organic justice involves an application of the same\nprinciple because it equally depends upon the exclusion of irrelevant\nconsiderations. It implies such a distribution of functions and of\nmaintenance as may secure the greatest possible efficiency of society\ntowards some end in itself good. Society of course may be organised\nwith great efficiency for bad or doubtful ends. A purely military\norganisation, however admirable for its purpose, may imply a sacrifice\nof the highest welfare of the nation. Assuming, however, the goodness\nof the end, the greatest efficiency is of course desirable. We may, for\nour purposes, assume that the efficiency of a nation regarded as a\nsociety for the production of wealth is a desirable end. There are, of\ncourse, many other purposes which must not be sacrificed to the\nproduction of wealth. But power of producing wealth, meaning roughly\nwhatever contributes to the physical support and comfort of the nation,\nis undoubtedly a necessary condition of all other happiness. If we all\nstarve we can have neither art nor science nor morality. What I mean,\ntherefore, is that a nation is so far better as it is able to raise all\nnecessary supplies with the least expenditure of labour, leaving aside\nthe question how far the superfluous forces should be devoted to\nraising comparative luxuries or to some purely religious or moral or\nintellectual purposes. The perfect industrial organisation is, I shall\nassume, compatible with or rather a condition of a perfect organisation\nof other kinds. In the most general terms we have to consider what are\nthe principles of social organisation, which of course implies a\ncertain balance between the various organs and a thorough nutrition of\nall, while yet we may for a moment confine our attention to the purely\nindustrial or economic part of the question. How, if at all, does the\nprinciple of equality or of social justice enter the problem?\n\nWe may assume, in the first place, from this point of view, that one\nmost obvious condition is the absence of all purely useless structures,\nwhether of the kind which we call \"survivals\" or such as may be called\nparasitic growths. The organ which has ceased to discharge\ncorresponding functions is simply a drag upon the vital forces. When a\nclass, such as the old French aristocracy, ceases to perform duties\nwhile retaining privileges, it will be removed,--too probably, as in\nthat case, it will be removed by violent and mischievous methods,--if\nthe society is to grow in vigour. The individuals, as I have said, may\nor may not deserve punishment, for they are not personally responsible\nfor the general order of things; but they are not unlikely to incur\nsevere penalties, and what we should really hope is that they may be in\nsome way absorbed by judicious medical treatment, instead of extirpated\nby the knife. At the other end of the scale, we have the parasitic\nclass of the beggars or thieves. They, too, are not personally\nresponsible for the conditions into which they are born. But they are\nnot only to be pitied individually, but to be regarded, in the mass, as\ninvolving social disease and danger. More words upon that topic are\nquite superfluous, but I may just recall the truth that the two evils\nare directly connected. We hear it often said, and often denied, that\nthe rich are growing richer and the poor poorer. So far, however, as it\nis true, it is one version of the very obvious fact that where there\nare many careless rich people, there will be the best chance for the\nbeggars. The thoughtless expenditure of the rich without due\nresponsibilities, provides the steady stream of so-called charity,--the\ncharity which, as Shakespeare (or somebody else) observes, is twice\ncursed, which curses him that gives and him that receives; which is to\nthe rich man as a mere drug to still his conscience and offer a\nspurious receipt in full for his neglect of social duties, and to the\npoor man an encouragement to live without self-respect, without\nprovidence, a mere hanger-on and dead-weight upon society, and a\nstanding injury and source of temptation to his honest neighbours.\n\nBriefly, a wholesome social condition implies that every social organ\ndischarges a useful function; it renders some service to the community\nwhich is equivalent to the support which it derives; brain and stomach\neach get their due share of supply; and there is a thorough reciprocity\nbetween all the different members of the body. But what kind of\nequality should be desired in order to secure this desirable organic\nbalance? We have to do, I may remark, with the case of a homogeneous\nrace. By this I mean not only that there is no reason to suppose that\nthere is any difference between the innate qualities of rich and poor,\nbut that there is the strongest reason for believing in an equality;\nthat is to say, more definitely, that if you took a thousand poor\nbabies and a thousand rich babies, and subjected them to the same\nconditions, they would show great individual differences, but no\ndifference traceable to the mere difference of class origin. I\ntherefore may leave aside such problems as might arise in the Southern\nStates of America, or even in British India, where two different races\nare in presence; or, again, the case of the sexes, where we cannot\nassume as self-evident, that the organic differences are irrelevant to\npolitical or social ends. So far as we are concerned, we may take it\nfor granted that the differences which emerge are not due to any causes\nantecedent to and overriding the differences due to different social\npositions. If we can say justly (as has been said) that a poor man is\ngenerally more charitable in proportion to his means, or, again, that\nhe is, as a rule, a greater liar or a greater drunkard than the rich\nman, the difference is not due to a difference of breed, but to the\neducation (in the widest sense) which each has received. So long as\nthat difference remains, we must take account of it for purposes of\nobtaining the maximum efficiency. We must not make the poor man a\nprofessor of mathematics, or even manager of a railway, because he has\ntalents which, if trained, would have qualified him for the post; but\nwe may and must assume that an equal training would do as much for the\npoor man as for the rich; and the question is, how far it is desirable\nor possible to secure such equality.\n\nNow, from the point of view of securing a maximum efficiency, it seems\nto be a clearly desirable end that the only qualities which should\nindisputably help to determine a man's position in life, should also be\nthose which determine his fitness for working in it efficiently. In\nUtopia, it should be the rule that each man shall do what he can do\nbest. If one man is a gamekeeper and another a prime minister, it\nshould be because one has the gifts of a gamekeeper and the other the\ngifts of a prime minister: whereas, in the actual state, as we all\nknow, the gamekeeper often becomes the prime minister, while the\npotential prime minister is limited to looking after poachers. But I\nalso urge that we must take into account the actual and not the\npotential qualities at any given moment. The inequality may be obviated\nby raising the grade of culture in all classes; but we must not assume\nthat there is an actual equality where, in fact, there is the widest\npossible difference. In short, I assert that it is our duty to try to\nmake men equal; though I deny that we are clearly justified in assuming\nan equality. By making them equal, I do not, of course, mean that we\nshould try to make them all alike. I recognise, with Mill and every\nsensible writer on the subject, that such a consummation represents\nrather a danger than an advantage. I wish to see individuality\nstrengthened, not crushed, to encourage men to develop the widest\npossible diversity of tastes, talents, and pursuits, and to attain\nunity of opinion, not by a calm assumption that this or that creed is\ntrue, but by encouraging the sharpest and freest collision of opinions.\nThe equality of which I speak is that which would result, if the\ndistinction into organs were not of such a nature as to make one class\nmore favourable than another to the full development of whatever\ncharacter and talents a man may possess. In other words, the\ndistribution into classes would correspond purely and simply to the\ntelling off of each man to the duties which he is best fitted to\ndischarge. The position into which he is born, the class surroundings\nwhich determine his development, must not carry with them any\ndisqualification for his acquiring the necessary aptitude for any other\nposition. It was, I think, Fourier who argued that a man ought to be\npaid more highly for being a chimney-sweep than for being a prime\nminister, because the duties of a sweep are the more disagreeable,--a\nposition which some prime ministers may, perhaps, see reason to doubt.\nMy suggestion is, that in Utopia every human being would be so placed\nas to be capable of preparing himself for any other position, and\nshould then go to the work for which he is best fitted. The equality as\nthus defined would, I submit, leave no room for a sense of injustice,\nbecause the qualities which determine a man's position would be the\nqualities for which he deserves the position, desert in this sense\nbeing measurable by fitness. Discontent with class distinctions must\narise so long as a man feels that his position in a class limits and\ncramps his capacities below the level of happier fortunes. Discontent\nis not altogether a bad thing, for it is often an _alias_ for\nhope; remove all discontent and you remove all guarantee for\nimprovement. But discontent is of the malignant variety when it is\nallied with a sense of injustice; that is, of restrictions imposed upon\none class for no assignable reason. The only sufficient reason for\nclasses is the efficient discharge of social functions. The differences\nbetween the positions of men in social strata, supply some of the most\neffective motives for the struggle of life; and the effort of men to\nrise into the wealthy or the powerful class is not likely to cease so\nlong as men are men; but they take an unworthy form so long as the\nambition is simply to attain privileges unconnected with or\ndisproportioned to the duties involved, and which therefore generate\nhatred to the social structure. If a class could be simply an organ for\nthe discharge of certain functions, and each man in the whole body\npolitic able to fit himself for that class, the injustice, and\ntherefore the malignant variety of discontent, would disappear. Of\ncourse, I am speaking only of justice. I do not attempt to define the\nproper ends of society, or regard justice in itself as a sufficient\nguarantee for all desirable results. Such justice may exist even in a\nsavage tribe or a low social type. There may be a just distribution of\nfood among a shipwrecked crew, but the attainment of such justice would\nnot satisfy all their wants. The abolition of misery, the elevation of\na degraded class to a higher stage is a good thing in itself, unless it\ncan be shown to involve some counterbalancing evil. I only argue that\nthe ideal society would have this, among other attributes, and,\ntherefore, that to secure such equality is a legitimate object of\naspiration.\n\nI am speaking of \"Utopia\". The time is indefinitely distant when a man\nwill choose to be a sweep or a prime minister according to his\naptitudes, and be equally able to learn his trade whether he is the son\nof a prime minister or a sweep. I only try to indicate the goal to\nwhich our efforts should be directed. But the goal thus defined implies\nmethods different from that of some advocates of equality. They propose\nat once to assume the non-existence of a disagreeable difficulty, and\nto take men as equal in a sense in which they are not, in fact, equal.\nTo me the problem appears to be, not the instant introduction of a new\nsystem, but a necessarily long and very gradual process of education\ndirected towards the distant goal of making men equal in the desirable\nsense; and that problem, I add, is in the main a moral problem. It is\nidle to make institutions without making the qualities by which they\nmust be worked. I do not say--far from it--that we are not to propose\nwhat may roughly be called external changes: new regulations and new\nforms of association, and so forth. On the contrary, I believe, as I\nhave intimated, that this method corresponds to the normal order of\ndevelopment. The new institution protects and stimulates the germs of\nthe moral instincts by which it must be worked. But I also hold that no\nmere rearrangement does any permanent good unless it calls forth a\ncorresponding moral change, and, moreover, that the moral change,\nhowever slow and imperceptible, does incomparably more than any\nexternal change.\n\nIf we assume our present institutions to be permanent, a slight\nimprovement in moral qualities, a growth of sobriety, of chastity, of\nprudence and intellectual culture, would make an almost indefinite\nimprovement in the condition of the masses. If, for example, Englishmen\nceased to drink, every English home might be made reasonably\ncomfortable. The two kinds of change imply each other; but it is the\nmost characteristic error of the designers of Utopias to suppose a mere\nchange of regulations without sufficiently attending to the moral\nimplication. To attain equality, as I have tried to define the word,\nwould imply vast moral changes, and therefore a long and difficult\nelaboration. We have not simply to make men happy, as they now count\nhappiness, but to alter their views of happiness. The good old\ncopy-books tell us that happiness is as common in poor men's huts as in\nrich men's palaces. We are apt to reply that the statement is a mockery\nand a lie. But it points to the consummation which in some simple\nsocial states has been partly realised, and which in some distant\nfuture may come to be an expression of facts. It is conceivable surely\nthat rich men may some day find that there are modes of occupation\nwhich are more interesting as well as more useful than accumulation of\nluxuries or the keeping of horses for the turf; that, in place of\npropitiating fate by supporting the institution of beggary, there is an\nindefinite field for public-spirited energy in the way not of throwing\ncrumbs to Lazarus, but of promoting national culture of mind, of\nspirit, and of body; that benevolence does not mean simple\nself-sacrifice, except to the selfish, but the pursuit of a noble and\nmost interesting career; that men's duty to their children is not to\nenable them to lead idle lives, but to fit them for playing a manly\npart in the great game of life; and that their relation to those whom\nthey employ is not that of persons exploiting the energies of inferior\nanimals, but of leaders of industry with a common interest in the\nprosperity of their occupation. People, no doubt, will hardly pursue\nbusiness from motives of pure benevolence to others, and I do not think\nit desirable that they should. But the recognition that the pursuit of\nan honourable business is useful to others may, nevertheless, guide\ntheir energies, make the mere scramble for wealth disreputable, and\ninduce them to labour for solid and permanent advantages. Such moral\nchanges are, I conceive, necessary conditions of the equality of which\nI have spoken; they must be brought about to some extent if the\nindustrial organism is to free itself from the injustice necessarily\nimplied in a mere blind struggle for personal comfort.\n\nMoreover, however distant the final consummation may be, there are, I\nthink, many indications of an approximation. Nothing is more\ncharacteristic of modern society than the enormous development of the\npower of association for particular purposes. In former days a society\nhad to form an independent organ, a corporation, a college, and so\nforth, to discharge any particular function, and the resulting organ\nwas so distinct as to absorb the whole life of its members. The work of\nthe fellow was absorbed in the corporate life of his corporation, and\nhe had no distinct personal interests. Now we are all members of\nsocieties by the dozen, and society is constantly acquiring the art of\nforming associations for any purpose, temporary or permanent, which\nimply no deep structural division, and unite people of all classes and\npositions. As the profounder lines are obliterated, the tendency to\nform separate castes, defended by personal privileges, and holding\nthemselves apart from other classes, rapidly diminishes; and the\ncorresponding prejudices are in process of diminution. But I can only\nhint at this principle.\n\nA correlative moral change in the poor is, of course, equally\nessential. America is described by Mr. Lowell in the noblest panegyric\never made upon his own country, as \"She that lifts up the manhood of\nthe poor\". She has taken some rather queer methods of securing that\nobject lately; yet, however imperfect the result, every American\ntraveller will, I believe, sympathise with what Mr. Bryce has recently\nsaid in his great book. America is still the land of hope--the land\nwhere the poor man's horizon is not bounded by a vista of inevitable\ndependence on charity; where--in spite of some superficially grotesque\nresults--every man can speak to every other without the oppressive\nsense of condescension; where a civil word from a poor man is not\nalways a covert request for a gratuity and a tacit confession of\ndependence. \"Alas,\" says Wordsworth, in one of his pregnant phrases,\n\"the gratitude of men has oftener left me mourning\" than their\ncold-heartedness; because, I presume, it is a painful proof of the\nrarity of kindness. When one man can only receive a gift and another\ncan only bestow it as a payment on account of a long accumulation of\nthe arrears of class injustice, the relations hardly admit of genuine\ngratitude on either side. What grates most painfully upon me, and, I\nsuppose, upon most of us, is the \"servility\" of man; the acceptance of\na beggar's code of morals as natural and proper for any one in a shabby\ncoat. The more prominent evil just now, according to conservatives and\npessimists, is the correlative one of the beggar on horseback; of the\nman who has found out that he can squeeze more out of his masters, and\nuses his power even without considering whether it is wise to drain\nyour milch cow too exhaustively.\n\nA hope of better things is encouraged by schemes for arbitration and\nconciliation between employers and employed. But we require a moral\nchange if arbitration is to imply something more than a truce between\nnatural enemies, and conciliation to be something different from that\nemployed by Hood's butcher when, after hauling a sheep by main force\ninto the slaughter-house, he exclaimed, \"There, I've conciliated\n_him_!\" The only principle on which arbitration can proceed is\nthat the profits should be divided in such a way as to be a sufficient\ninducement to all persons concerned to give their money or their\nlabour, mental or physical, to promote the prosperity of the business\nat large. But the reconciliation can only be complete when the\ncapitalist is capable of employing his riches with enough public spirit\nand generosity to disarm mere envy by his obvious utility, and the poor\nman justifies his increased wages by his desire to secure permanent\nbenefits and a better standard of life. In Utopia, the question will\nstill be, what plan shall be a sufficient inducement to the men who\nco-operate as employers or labourers, but the inducement will appeal to\nbetter motives, and the positions be so far equalised that each will be\nmost tolerable to the man best fitted for it.\n\nHere a vast series of problems opens about which I can only suggest the\nbriefest hint. The principle I now urge is the old one, namely, that\nthe usual mark of a quack remedy is the neglect of the moral aspect of\na question. We want a state of opinion in which the poor are not\nobjects to be slobbered over, but men to help in a manly struggle for\nmoral as well as material elevation. A great deal is said, for example,\nabout the evils of competition. It is remarkable indeed that few\nproposals for improvement even, so far as I can discover, tend to get\nrid of competition. Co-operation, as tradesmen will tell us, is not an\nabolition of competition, but a competition of groups instead of units.\n\"Profit-sharing\" is simply a plan by which workmen may take a direct\nshare in the competition carried on by their masters. I do not mention\nthis as any objection to such schemes, for I do not think that\ncompetition is an evil. I do not doubt the vast utility of schemes\nwhich tend to increase the intelligence and prudence of workmen, and\ngive them an insight into the conditions of successful business.\nCompetition is no doubt bad so far as it means cheating or gambling.\nBut competition is, it seems to me, inevitable so long as we are forced\nto apply the experimental method in practical life, and I fail to see\nwhat other method is available. Competition means that thousands of\npeople all over the world are trying to find out how they can supply\nmore economically and efficiently the wants of other people, and that\nis a state of things to which I do not altogether object. Equality in\nmy sense implies that every one should be allowed to compete for every\nplace that he can fill. The cry is merely, as it seems to me, an\nevasion of the fundamental difficulty. That difficulty is not that\npeople compete, but that there are too many competitors; not that a\nman's seat at the table has to be decided by fair trial of his\nabilities, but that there is not room enough to seat everybody. Malthus\nbrought to the front the great stumbling-block in the way of Utopian\noptimism. His theory was stated too absolutely, and his view of the\nremedy was undoubtedly crude. But he hit the real difficulty; and every\nsensible observer of social evils admits that the great obstacle to\nsocial improvement is that social residuum, the parasitic class, which\nmultiplies so as to keep down the standard of living, and turns to bad\npurposes the increased power of man over nature. We have abolished\npestilence and famine in their grimmest shape; if we have not abolished\nwar, it no longer involves usurpation or slavery or the permanent\ndesolation of the conquered; but one result is just this, that great\nmasses can be regularly kept alive at the lowest stage of existence\nwithout being periodically swept away by a \"black death\" or a horde of\nbrutal invaders. If we choose to turn our advantages to account in this\nway, no nostrums will put an end to poverty; and the evil can only be\nmet--as I venture to assume--by an elevation of the moral level,\ninvolving all that is implied in spreading civilisation downward.\n\nThe difficulty shows itself in discussions of the proper sphere of\ngovernment. Upon that vast and most puzzling topic I will only permit\nmyself one remark. In former times the great aim of reformers was the\nlimitation of the powers of government. They came to regard it as a\nkind of bogy or extra-natural force, which acted to oppress the poor in\norder to maintain certain personal privileges. Some, like Godwin of the\n\"Political Justice,\" held that the millennium implied the abolition of\ngovernment and the institution of anarchy. The early utilitarians held\nthat government might be reformed by placing power in the hands of the\nsubjects, who would use it only for their own interests, but still\nretained the prejudices engendered in their long struggle against\nauthority, and held that its functions should still be gradually\nrestricted on pain of developing a worse tyranny than the old. The\ngovernment has been handed over to the people as they desired, but with\nthe natural result that the new authorities not only use it to support\ntheir interests, but retain the conviction of its extra-natural, or\nperhaps supernatural, efficacy. It is regarded as an omnipotent body\nwhich can not only say (as it can) that whatever it pleases shall be\nlegal, but that whatever is made a law in the juridical sense shall at\nonce become a law of nature. Even their individualist opponents, who\nprofess to follow Mr. Herbert Spencer, seem often to regard the power\nof government, not as one result of evolution, but as something\nexternal which can constrain and limit evolution. It corresponds to a\nkind of outside pressure which interferes arbitrarily with the\nso-called natural course of development, and should therefore be\nabolished. To me, on the contrary, it seems that government is simply\none of the social organs, with powers strictly limited by its relation\nto others and by the nature of the sentiment upon which it rests. There\nare obvious reasons, in the centralisation of vast industrial\ninterests, the \"integration,\" as Mr. Spencer calls it, which is the\ncorrelative of differentiation, in the growing solidarity of different\nclasses and countries, in the consequent growth of natural monopolies,\nwhich give a solid reason for believing that the functions of the\ncentral government may require expansion. To decide by any _\u00e0\npriori_ principle what should be the limits of this expansion is, to\nmy mind, hopeless. The problem is one to be worked out by\nexperiment,--that is, by many generations and by repeated blundering. A\nfool, said Erasmus Darwin, is a man who never makes an experiment; an\nexperiment is a new mode of action which fails in its object\nninety-nine times out of a hundred; therefore, wise men make more\nblunders, though they also make more discoveries than fools. Now,\nexperiments in government and social organisation are as necessary to\nimprovement as any other kind of experiment, and probably still more\nliable to failure. One thing, however, is again obvious. The simple\nremedy of throwing everything upon government, of allowing it to settle\nthe rate of wages, the hours of labour, the prices of commodities, and\nso forth, requires for success a moral and intellectual change which it\nis impossible to over-estimate. I will not repeat the familiar\narguments which, to my mind, justify this statement. It is enough to\nsay that there is no ground in the bare proposal for putting all manner\nof industrial regulations into the hands of government, for supposing\nthat it would not drag down every one into pauperism instead of raising\neverybody to comfort. I often read essays of which the weakness seems\nto be that while they purpose to establish equality, they give no real\nreason for holding that it would not be an equality of beggary. If\nevery one is to be supported, idle or not, the natural conclusion is\nuniversal pauperism. If people are to be forced to work by government,\nor their numbers to be somehow restricted by government, you throw a\nstress upon the powers of government which, I will not say, it is\nimpossible that it should bear, but which, to speak in the most\nmoderate terms, implies a complete reconstruction of the intelligence,\nmorality, and conceptions of happiness of human beings. Your government\nwould have to be omniscient and purely benevolent as well as\nomnipotent, and I confess that I cannot see in the experience of those\ncountries where the people have the most direct influence upon the\ngovernment, any promise that this state of things will be realised just\nyet.\n\nThus, I return to my conclusion,--to my platitude, if you will.\nProfessor Fawcett used to say that he could lay down no rules for the\nsphere of government influence, except this rule, that no interference\nwould do good unless it helped people to help themselves. I think that\nthe doctrine was characteristic of his good sense, and I fully\nsubscribe to it. I heartily agree that equality in the sense I have\ngiven, is a most desirable ideal; I agree that we should do all that in\nus lies to promote it; I only say that our aims should be always in\nconsistence with the principle that such equality is only possible and\ndesirable in so far as the lowest classes are lifted to a higher\nstandard, morally as well as physically. Of course, that implies\napproval of every variety of new institutions and laws, of\nco-operation, of profit sharing, of boards of conciliation, of\neducational and other bodies for carrying light into darkness and\nelevating popular standards of life: but always with the express\ncondition that no such institution is really useful except as it tends\nto foster a genuine spirit of independence, and to supply the moral\nimprovement without which no outward change is worth a button. This is\na truism, you may say. Yet, when I read the proposals to get rid of\npoverty by summarily ordering people to be equal, or to extirpate\npauperism by spending a million upon certain institutions for out-door\nrelief, I cannot help thinking that it is a truism which requires to be\nenforced. The old Political Economy, you say, is obsolete; meaning,\nperhaps, that you do not mean to be bothered with its assertions; but\nthe old Economists had their merits. They were among the first who\nrealised the vast importance of deeper social questions; they were the\nfirst who tried to treat them scientifically; they were not (I hope)\nthe last who dared to speak unpleasant truths, simply because they\nbelieved them and believed in their importance. Perhaps, indeed, they\nrather enjoyed the practice a little too much, and indulged in it a\nlittle too ostentatiously. Yet, I am sure that, on the whole, it was a\nvery useful practice, and one which is now scarcely as common as it\nshould be. People are more anxious to pick holes in their statement of\neconomic laws than to insist upon the essential fact that, after all,\nthere are laws, not \"laws\" made by Parliament, but laws of nature,\nwhich do, and will, determine the production and distribution of\nwealth, and the recognition of which is as important to human welfare\nas the recognition of physiological laws to the bodily health. Holding\nthis faith, the old Economists were never tired of asserting what is\nthe fundamental truth of so-called \"individualism,\" that, after all we\nmay say about the social development, the essential condition of all\nsocial improvement is not that we should have this or that system of\nregulations, but that the individual should be manly, self-respecting,\ndoing his duty as well as getting his pay, and deeply convinced that\nnothing will do any permanent good which does not imply the elevation\nof the individual in his standards of honesty, independence, and good\nconduct. We can only say to Lazarus: \"You are probably past praying\nfor, and all we can do is to save you from starving, by any means which\ndo not encourage other people to fall into your weaknesses; but we\nrecognise the right of your class for any and every possible help that\ncan be given towards making men of them, and putting them on their legs\nby teaching them to stand upright\".\n\n\n\n\nETHICS AND THE STRUGGLE FOR EXISTENCE.\n\n\nIn his deeply-interesting Romanes lecture, Professor Huxley has stated\nthe opinion that the ethical progress of society depends upon our\ncombating the \"cosmic process\" which we call the struggle for\nexistence. Since, as he adds, we inherit the \"cosmic nature\" which is\nthe outcome of millions of years of severe training, it follows that\nthe \"ethical nature\" may count upon having to reckon with a tenacious\nand powerful enemy as long as the world lasts. This is not a cheerful\nprospect. It is, as he admits, an audacious proposal to pit the\nmicrocosm against the macrocosm. We cannot help fearing that the\nmicrocosm may get the worst of it. Professor Huxley has not fully\nexpanded his meaning, and says much to which I could cordially\nsubscribe. But I think that the facts upon which he relies admit or\nrequire an interpretation which avoids the awkward conclusion.\n\nPain and suffering, as Professor Huxley tells us, are always with us,\nand even increase in quantity and intensity as evolution advances. The\nfact had been recognised in remote ages long before theories of\nevolution had taken their modern form. Pessimism, from the time of the\nancient Hindoo philosophers to the time of their disciple,\nSchopenhauer, has been in no want of evidence to support its melancholy\nconclusions. It would be idle to waste rhetoric in the attempt to\nrecapitulate so familiar a position. Though I am not a pessimist, I\ncannot doubt that there is more plausibility in the doctrine than I\ncould wish. Moreover, it may be granted that any attempt to explain or\nto justify the existence of evil is undeniably futile. It is not so\nmuch that the problem cannot be answered, as that it cannot even be\nasked in any intelligible sense. To \"explain\" a fact is to assign its\ncauses--that is, to give the preceding set of facts out of which it\narose. However far we might go backwards, we should get no nearer to\nperceiving any reason for the original fact. If we explain the fall of\nman by Adam's eating the apple, we are quite unable to say why the\napple should have been created. If we could discover a general theory\nof pain, showing, say, that it implied certain physiological\nconditions, we shall be no nearer to knowing why those physiological\nconditions should have been what they are. The existence of pain, in\nshort, is one of the primary data of our problem, not one of the\naccidents, for which we can hope in any intelligible sense to account.\nTo give any \"justification\" is equally impossible. The book of Job\nreally suggests an impossible, one may almost say a meaningless,\nproblem. We can give an intelligible meaning to a demand for justice\nwhen we can suppose that a man has certain antecedent rights, which\nanother man may respect or neglect. But this has no meaning as between\nthe abstraction \"nature\" and the concrete facts which are themselves\nnature. It is unjust to meet equal claims differently. But it is not\n\"unjust\" in any intelligible sense that one being should be a monkey\nand another a man, any more than that part of me should be a hand and\nanother head. The question would only arise if we supposed that the man\nand the monkey had existed before they were created, and had then\npossessed claims to equal treatment. The most logical theologians,\nindeed, admit that as between creature and creator there can be\nproperly no question of justice. The pot and the potter cannot complain\nof each other. If the writer of Job had been able to show that the\nvirtuous were rewarded and the vicious punished, he would only have\ntransferred the problem to another issue. The judge might be justified,\nbut the creator would be condemned. How can it be just to place a being\nwhere he is certain to sin, and then to damn him for sinning? That is\nthe problem to which no answer can be given; and which already implies\na confusion of ideas. We apply the conception of justice in a sphere\nwhere it is not applicable, and naturally fail to get any intelligible\nanswer.\n\nIt is impossible to combine the conceptions of God as the creator and\nGod as the judge; and the logical straits into which the attempt leads\nare represented by the endless free-will controversy. I will not now\nenter that field of controversy: and I will only indicate what seems to\nme to be the position which we must accept in any scientific discussion\nof our problem. Hume, as I think, laid down the true principle when he\nsaid that there could be no _\u00e0 priori_ proof of a matter of fact.\nAn _\u00e0 priori_ truth is a truth which cannot be denied without\nself-contradiction, but there can never be a logical consideration in\nsupposing the non-existence of any fact whatever. The ordinary appeal\nto the truths of pure mathematics is, therefore, beside the question.\nAll such truths are statements of the precise equivalence of two\npropositions. To say that there are four things is also to say that\nthere are two pairs of things: to say that there is a plane triangle is\nalso to say that there is a plane trilateral. One statement involves\nthe other, because the difference is not in the thing described, but in\nour mode of contemplating it. We, therefore, cannot make one assertion\nand deny the other without implicit contradiction. From such results,\nagain, is evolved (in the logical sense of evolution) the whole vast\nsystem of mathematical truths. The complexity of that system gives the\nerroneous idea that we can, somehow, attain a knowledge of facts,\nindependently of experience. We fail to observe that even the most\ncomplex mathematical formula is simply a statement of an exact\nequivalence of two assertions; and that, till we know by experience the\ntruth of one statement, we can never infer the truth, in fact, of the\nother. However elaborate may be the evolutions of mathematical truth,\nthey can never get beyond the germs out of which they are evolved. They\nare valid precisely because the most complex statement is always the\nexact equivalent of the simpler, out of which it is constructed. They\nremain to the end truths of number or truths of geometry. They cannot,\nby themselves, tell us that things exist which can be counted or which\ncan be measured. The whole claim, however elaborate, still requires its\npoint of suspension. We may put their claims to absolute or necessary\ntruth as high as we please; but they cannot give us by themselves a\nsingle fact. I can show, for example, that a circle has an infinite\nnumber of properties, all of which are virtually implied in the very\nexistence of a circle. But that the circle or that space itself exists,\nis not a necessary truth, but a datum of experience. It is quite true\nthat such truths are not, in one sense, empirical; they can be\ndiscovered without any change of experience; for, by their very nature,\nthey refer to the constant element of experience, and are true on the\nsupposition of the absolute changelessness of the objects contemplated.\nBut it is a fallacy to suppose that, because independent of particular\nexperiences, they are, therefore, independent of experience in general.\n\nNow, if we agree, as Huxley would have agreed, that Hume's doctrine is\ntrue, if we cannot know a single fact except from experience, we are\nlimited in moral questions, as in all others, to elaborating and\nanalysing our experience, and can never properly transcend it. A\nscientific treatment of an ethical question, at any rate, must take for\ngranted all the facts of human nature. It can show what morality\nactually is; what are, in fact, the motives which make men moral, and\nwhat are the consequences of moral conduct. But it cannot get outside\nof the universe and lay down moral principles independent of all\ninfluences. I am well aware that in speaking of ethical questions upon\nthis ground, I am exposed to many expressions of metaphysical contempt.\nI may hope to throw light upon the usual working of morality; but my\ntheory of the facts cannot make men moral of itself. I cannot hope, for\nexample, to show that immorality involves a contradiction, for I know\nthat immorality exists. I cannot even hope to show that it is\nnecessarily productive of misery to the individual, for I know that\nsome people take pleasure in vicious conduct. I cannot deduce facts\nfrom morals, for I must consistently regard morals as part of the\nobserved consequences of human nature under given conditions.\nMetaphysicians may, if they can, show me a more excellent method. I\nadmit that their language sometimes enables them to take what, in words\nat least, is a sublimer position than mine. Kant's famous phrase, \"Thou\nmust, therefore thou canst,\" is impressive. And yet, it seems to me to\ninvolve an obvious piece of logical juggling. It is quite true that\nwhenever it is my duty to act in a certain way, it must be a\npossibility; but that is only because an impossibility cannot be a\nduty. It is not my duty to fly, because I have not wings; and\nconversely, no doubt, it would follow that _if_ it were my duty I\nmust possess the organs required. Thus understood, however, the phrase\nloses its sublimity, and yet, it is only because we have so to\nunderstand it, that it has any plausibility. Admitting, however, that\npeople who differ from me can use grander language, and confessing my\nreadiness to admit error whenever they can point to a single fact\nattainable by the pure reason, I must keep to the humbler path. I speak\nof the moral instincts as of others, simply from the point of view of\nexperience: I cannot myself discover a single truth from the abstract\nprinciple of non-contradiction; and am content to take for granted that\nthe world exists as we know it to exist, without seeking to deduce its\npeculiarities by any high _\u00e0 priori_ road.\n\nUpon this assumption, the question really resolves itself into a\ndifferent one. We can neither explain nor justify the existence of\npain; but, of course, we can ask whether, as a matter of fact, pain\npredominates over pleasure; and we can ask whether, as a matter of\nfact, the \"cosmic processes\" tend to promote or discourage virtuous\nconduct. Does the theory of the \"struggle for existence\" throw any new\nlight upon the general problem? I am quite unable to see, for my own\npart, that it really makes any difference: evil exists; and the\nquestion whether evil predominates over good, can only, I should say,\nbe decided by an appeal to experience. One source of evil is the\nconflict of interests. Every beast preys upon others; and man,\naccording to the old saying, is a wolf to man. All that the Darwinian\nor any other theory can do is, to enable us to trace the consequences\nof this fact in certain directions; but it neither creates the fact nor\nmakes it more or less an essential part of the process. It \"explains\"\ncertain phenomena, in the sense of showing their connection with\nprevious phenomena, but does not show why the phenomena should present\nthemselves at all. If we indulge our minds in purely fanciful\nconstructions, we may regard the actual system as good or bad, just as\nwe choose to imagine for its alternative a better or a worse system. If\neverybody had been put into a world where there was no pain, or where\neach man could get all he wanted without interfering with his\nneighbours, we may fancy that things would have been pleasanter. If the\nstruggle, which we all know to exist, had no effect in preventing the\n\"survival of the fittest,\" things--so, at least, some of us may\nthink--would have been worse. But such fancies have nothing to do with\nscientific inquiries. We have to take things as they are and make the\nbest of them.\n\nThe common feeling, no doubt, is different. The incessant struggle\nbetween different races suggests a painful view of the universe, as\nHobbes' natural state of war suggested painful theories as to human\nnature. War is evidently immoral, we think; and a doctrine which makes\nthe whole process of evolution a process of war must be radically\nimmoral too. The struggle, it is said, demands \"ruthless\nself-assertion\" and the hunting down of all competitors; and such\nphrases certainly have an unpleasant sound. But in the first place, the\nuse of the epithets implies an anthropomorphism to which we have no\nright so long as we are dealing with the inferior species. We are then\nin a region to which such ideas have no direct application, and where\nthe moral sentiments exist only in germ, if they can properly be said\nto exist at all. Is it fair to call a wolf ruthless because he eats a\nsheep and fails to consider the transaction from the sheep's point of\nview? We must surely admit that if the wolf is without mercy he is also\nwithout malice. We call an animal ferocious because a man who acted in\nthe same way would be ferocious. But the man is really ferocious\nbecause he is really aware of the pain which he inflicts. The wolf, I\nsuppose, has no more recognition of the sheep's feelings than a man has\nof feelings in the oyster or the potato. For him, they are simply\nnon-existent; and it is just as inappropriate to think of the wolf as\ncruel, as it would be to call the sheep cruel for eating grass. Are we\nto say that \"nature\" is cruel because the arrangement increases the sum\nof undeserved suffering? That is a problem which I do not feel able to\nexamine; but it is, at least, obvious that it cannot be answered\noff-hand in the affirmative. To the individual sheep it matters nothing\nwhether he is eaten by the wolf or dies of disease or starvation. He\nhas to die any way, and the particular way is unimportant. The wolf is\nsimply one of the limiting forces upon sheep, and if he were removed\nothers would come into play. The sheep, left to himself, would still\ngive a practical illustration of the doctrine of Malthus. If, as\nevolutionists tell us, the hostility of the wolf tends to improve the\nbreed of sheep, to encourage him to think more and to sharpen his wits,\nthe sheep may be, on the whole, the better for the wolf, in this sense\nat least: that the sheep of a wolfless region might lead a more\nwretched existence, and be less capable animals and more subject to\ndisease and starvation than the sheep in a wolf-haunted region. The\nwolf may, so far, be a blessing in disguise.\n\nThis suggests another obvious remark. When we speak of the struggle for\nexistence, the popular view seems to construe this into the theory that\nthe world is a mere cockpit, in which one race carries on an\ninterminable struggle with the other. If the wolves are turned in with\nthe sheep, the first result will be that all the sheep will become\nmutton, and the last that there will be one big wolf with all the\nothers inside him. But this is contrary to the essence of the doctrine.\nEvery race depends, we all hold, upon its environment, and the\nenvironment includes all the other races. If some, therefore, are in\nconflict, others are mutually necessary. If the wolf ate all the sheep,\nand the sheep ate all the grass, the result would be the extirpation of\nall the sheep and all the wolves, as well as all the grass. The\nstruggle necessarily implies reciprocal dependence in a countless\nvariety of ways. There is not only a conflict, but a system of tacit\nalliances. One species is necessary to the existence of others, though\nthe multiplication of some implies also the dying out of particular\nrivals. The conflict implies no cruelty, as I have said, and the\nalliance no goodwill. The wolf neither loves the sheep (except as\nmutton) nor hates him; but he depends upon him as absolutely as if he\nwere aware of the fact. The sheep is one of the wolf's necessaries of\nlife. When we speak of the struggle for existence we mean, of course,\nthat there is at any given period a certain equilibrium between all the\nexisting species; it changes, though it changes so slowly that the\nprocess is imperceptible and difficult to realise even to the\nscientific imagination. The survival of any species involves the\ndisappearance of rivals no more than the preservation of allies. The\nstruggle, therefore, is so far from internecine that it necessarily\ninvolves co-operation. It cannot even be said that it necessarily\nimplies suffering. People, indeed, speak as though the extinction of a\nrace involved suffering in the same way as the slaughter of an\nindividual. It is plain that this is not a necessary, though it may\nsometimes be the actual result. A corporation may be suppressed without\ninjury to its members. Every individual will die before long, struggle\nor no struggle. If the rate of reproduction fails to keep up with the\nrate of extinction, the species must diminish. But this might happen\nwithout any increase of suffering. If the boys in a district discovered\nhow to take birds' eggs, they might soon extirpate a species; but it\ndoes not follow that the birds would individually suffer. Perhaps they\nwould feel themselves relieved from a disagreeable responsibility. The\nprocess by which a species is improved, the dying out of the least fit,\nimplies no more suffering than we know to exist independently of any\ndoctrine as to a struggle. When we use anthropomorphic language, we may\nspeak of \"self-assertion\". But \"self-assertion,\" minus the\nanthropomorphism, means self-preservation; and that is merely a way of\ndescribing the fact that an animal or plant which is well adapted to\nits conditions of life is more likely to live than an animal which is\nill-adapted. I have some difficulty in imagining how any other\narrangement can even be supposed possible. It seems to be almost an\nidentical proposition that the healthiest and strongest will generally\nlive longest; and the conception of a \"struggle for existence\" only\nenables us to understand how this results in certain progressive\nmodifications of the species. If we could ever for a moment have\nfancied that there was no pain and disease, and that some beings were\nnot more liable than others to those evils, I might admit that the new\ndoctrine has made the world darker. As it is, it seems to me that it\nleaves the data just what they were before, and only shows us that they\nhave certain previously unsuspected bearings upon the history of the\nworld.\n\nOne other point must be mentioned. Not only are species interdependent\nas well as partly in competition, but there is an absolute dependence\nin all the higher species between its different members which may be\nsaid to imply a _de facto_ altruism, as the dependence upon other\nspecies implies a _de facto_ co-operation. Every animal, to say\nnothing else, is absolutely dependent for a considerable part of its\nexistence upon its parents. The young bird or beast could not grow up\nunless its mother took care of it for a certain period. There is,\ntherefore, no struggle as between mother and progeny; but, on the\ncontrary, the closest possible alliance. Otherwise, life would be\nimpossible. The young being defenceless, their parents could\nexterminate them if they pleased, and by so doing would exterminate the\nrace. The parental relation, of course, constantly involves a partial\nsacrifice of the mother to her young. She has to go through a whole\nseries of operations, which strain her own strength and endanger her\nown existence, but which are absolutely essential to the continuance of\nthe race. It may be anthropomorphic to attribute any maternal emotions\nof the human kind to the animal. The bird, perhaps, sits upon her eggs\nbecause they give her an agreeable sensation, or, if you please, from a\nblind instinct which somehow determines her to the practice. She does\nnot look forward, we may suppose, to bringing up a family, or speculate\nupon the delights of domestic affection. I only say that as a fact she\nbehaves in a way which is at once injurious to her own chances of\nindividual survival, and absolutely necessary to the survival of the\nspecies. The abnormal bird who deserts her nest escapes many dangers;\nbut if all birds were devoid of the instinct, the birds would not\nsurvive a generation.\n\nNow, I ask, what is the difference which takes place when the monkey\ngradually loses his tail and sets up a superior brain? Is it properly\nto be described as a development or improvement of the \"cosmic\nprocess,\" or as the beginning of a prolonged contest against it?\n\nIn the first place, so far as man becomes a reasonable being, capable\nof foresight and of the adoption of means to ends, he recognises the\nnature of these tacit alliances. He believes it to be his interest not\nto exterminate everything, but to exterminate those species alone whose\nexistence is incompatible with his own. The wolf eats every sheep that\nhe comes across as long as his appetite lasts. If there are too many\nwolves, the process is checked by the starvation of the supernumerary\neaters. Man can maintain just as many sheep as he wants, and may also\nproportion the numbers of his own species to the possibilities of\nfuture supply. Many of the lower species thus become subordinate parts\nof the social organism--that is to say, of the new equilibrium which\nhas been established. There is so far a reciprocal advantage. The sheep\nthat is preserved with a view to mutton gets the advantage, though he\nis not kept with a view to his own advantage. Of all arguments for\nvegetarianism, none is so weak as the argument from humanity. The pig\nhas a stronger interest than any one in the demand for bacon. If all\nthe world were Jewish, there would be no pigs at all. He has to pay for\nhis privileges by an early death; but he makes a good bargain of it. He\ndies young, and, though we can hardly infer the \"love of the gods,\" we\nmust admit that he gets a superior race of beings to attend to his\ncomforts, moved by the strongest possible interest in his health and\nvigour, and induced by its own needs, perhaps, to make him a little too\nfat for comfort, but certainly also to see that he has a good sty, and\nplenty to eat every day of his life. Other races, again, are extirpated\nas \"ruthlessly\" as in the merely instinctive struggle for existence. We\nget rid of wolves and snakes as well as we can, and more systematically\nthan can be done by their animal competitors. The process does not\nnecessarily involve cruelty, and certainly does not involve a\ndiminution of the total of happiness. The struggle for existence means\nthe substitution of a new system of equilibrium, in which one of the\nold discords has been removed, and the survivors live in greater\nharmony. If the wolf is extirpated as an internecine enemy, it is that\nthere may be more sheep when sheep have become our allies and the\nobjects of our earthly providence. The result may be, perhaps I might\nsay must be, a state in which, on the whole, there is a greater amount\nof life supported on the planet; and therefore, as those will think who\nare not pessimists, a decided gain on the balance. At any rate, the\ndifference so far is that the condition which was in all cases\nnecessary, is now consciously recognised as necessary; and that we\ndeliberately aim at a result which always had to be achieved on penalty\nof destruction. So far, again, as morality can be established on purely\nprudential grounds, the same holds good of relations between human\nbeings themselves. Men begin to perceive that, even from a purely\npersonal point of view, peace is preferable to war. If war is unhappily\nstill prevalent, it is at least not war in which every clan is fighting\nwith its neighbours, and where conquest means slavery or extirpation.\nMillions of men are at peace within the limits of a modern State, and\ncan go about their business without cutting each other's throats. When\nthey fight with other nations they do not enslave nor massacre their\nprisoners. Starting from the purely selfish ground Hobbes could prove\nconclusively that everybody benefited by the social compact which\nsubstituted peace and order for the original state of war. Is this,\nthen, a reversal of the old state of things--a combating of a \"cosmic\nprocess\"? I should rather say that it is a development of the tacit\nalliances, and a modification so far of the direct or internecine\nconflict. Both were equally implied in the older conditions, and both\nstill exist. Some races form alliances, while others are crowded out of\nexistence. Of course, I cease to do some things which I should have\ndone before. I don't attack the first man I meet in the street and take\nhis scalp. One reason is that I don't expect he will take mine; for, if\nI did, I fear that, even as a civilised being, I should try to\nanticipate his intentions. This merely means that we have both come to\nsee that we have a common interest in keeping the peace. And this,\nagain, merely means that the tacit alliance which was always an\nabsolutely necessary condition of the survival of the species has now\nbeen extended through a wider area. The species could not have got on\nat all if there had not been so much alliance as is necessary for its\nreproduction and for the preservation of its young for some years of\nhelplessness. The change is simply that the small circle which included\nonly the primitive family or class has extended, so that we can meet\nmembers of the same nation, or, it may be, of the same race, on terms\nwhich were previously confined to the minor group. We have still to\nexterminate and still to preserve. The mode of employing our energies\nhas changed, but not the essential nature. Morality proper, however,\nhas so far not emerged. It begins when sympathy begins; when we really\ndesire the happiness of others; or, as Kant says, when we treat other\nmen as an end and not simply as a means. Undoubtedly this involves a\nnew principle, no less than the essential principle of all true\nmorality. Still, I have to ask whether it implies a combating or a\ncontinuation of a cosmic process. Now, as I have observed, even the\nanimal mother shows what I have called a _de facto_ altruism. She\nhas instincts which, though dangerous to the individual, are essential\nfor the race. The human mother sacrifices herself with a consciousness\nof the results to herself, and her personal fears are overcome by the\nstrength of her affections. She intentionally endures a painful death\nto save them from suffering. The animal sacrifices herself, but without\nforesight of the result, and therefore without moral worth. This is\nmerely the most striking exemplification of the general process of the\ndevelopment of morality. Conduct is first regarded purely with a view\nto the effects upon the agent, and is therefore enforced by extrinsic\npenalties, by consequences, that is, supposed to be attached to us by\nthe will of some ruler, natural or supernatural. The instinct which\ncomes to regard such conduct as bad in itself, which implies a dislike\nof giving pain to others, and not merely a dislike to the gallows,\ngrows up under such probation until the really moralised being acquires\nfeelings which make the external penalty superfluous. This,\nindubitably, is the greatest of all changes, the critical fact which\ndecides whether we are to regard conduct simply as useful, or also to\nregard it as moral in the strictest sense. But I should still call it a\ndevelopment and not a reversal of the previous process. The conduct\nwhich we call virtuous is the same conduct externally which we before\nregarded as useful. The difference is that the simple fact of its\nutility, that is, of its utility to others and to the race in general,\nhas now become also the sufficient motive for the action as well as the\nimplicit cause of the action. In the earlier stages, when no true\nsympathy existed, men and animals were still forced to act in a certain\nway because it was beneficial to others. They now act in that way\nbecause they are conscious that it is beneficial to others. The whole\nhistory of moral evolution seems to imply this. We may go back to a\nperiod at which the moral law is identified with the general customs of\nthe race; at which there is no perception of any clear distinction\nbetween that which is moral and that which is simply customary; between\nthat which is imposed by a law in the strict sense and that which is\ndictated by general moral principles. In such a state of things, the\nmotives for obedience partake of the nature of \"blind instincts\". No\ndefinite reason for them is present to the mind of the agent, and it\ndoes not occur to him even to demand a reason. \"Our fathers did so and\nwe do so\" is the sole and sufficient explanation of their conduct. Thus\ninstinct again may be traced back by evolutionists to the earliest\nperiod at which the instincts implied in the relations between the\nsexes or between parents and offspring, existed. They were the germ\nfrom which has sprung all morality such as we now recognise.\n\nMorality, then, implies the development of certain instincts which are\nessential to the race, but which may, in an indefinite number of cases,\nbe injurious to the individual. The particular mother is killed because\nshe obeys her natural instincts; but, if it were not for mothers and\ntheir instincts, the race would come to an end. Professor Huxley speaks\nof the \"fanatical individualism\" of our time as failing to construct\nmorality from the analogy of the cosmic process. An individualism which\nregards the cosmic process as equivalent simply to an internecine\nstruggle of each against all, must certainly fail to construct a\nsatisfactory morality upon such terms, and I will add that any\nindividualism which fails to recognise fully the social character,\nwhich regards society as an aggregate instead of an organism, will, in\nmy opinion, find itself in difficulties. But I also submit that the\ndevelopment of the instincts which directly correspond to the needs of\nthe race, is merely another case in which we aim consciously at an end\nwhich was before an unintentional result of our actions. Every race,\nabove the lowest, has instincts which are only intelligible by the\nrequirements of the race; and has both to compete with some and to form\nalliances with others of its fellow occupants of the planet. Both in\nthe unmoralised condition and in that in which morality has become most\ndeveloped, these instincts have common characteristics, and may be\nregarded as conditions of the power of the race to which they belong to\nmaintain its position in the world, and, speaking roughly, to preserve\nor increase its own vitality.\n\nI will not pause to insist upon this so far as regards many qualities\nwhich are certainly moral, though they may be said to refer primarily\nto the individual. That chastity and temperance, truthfulness and\nenergy, are, on the whole, advantages both to the individual and to the\nrace, does not, I fancy, require elaborate proof; nor need I argue at\nlength that the races in which they are common will therefore have\ninevitable advantages in the struggle for existence. Of all qualities\nwhich enable a race to hold its own, none is more important than the\npower of organising individually, politically, and socially, and that\npower implies the existence of justice and the instinct of mutual\nconfidence-in short, all the social virtues. The difficulty seems to be\nfelt in regard to those purely altruistic impulses, which, at first\nglance at any rate, make it apparently our duty to preserve those who\nwould otherwise be unfit to live. Virtue, says Professor Huxley, is\ndirected \"not so much to the survival of the fittest,\" as to the\n\"fitting of as many as possible to survive\". I do not dispute the\nstatement, I think it true in a sense; but I have a difficulty as to\nits application.\n\nMorality, it is obvious, must be limited by the conditions in which we\nare placed. What is impossible is not a duty. One condition plainly is\nthat the planet is limited. There is only room for a certain number of\nliving beings; and though we may determine what shall be the number, we\ncannot arbitrarily say that it shall be indefinitely great. It is one\nconsequence that we do, in fact, go on suppressing the unfit, and\ncannot help going on suppressing them. Is it desirable that it should\nbe otherwise? Should we wish, for example, that America could still be\na hunting-ground for savages? Is it better that it should contain a\nmillion red men or sixty millions of civilised whites? Undoubtedly the\nmoralist will say with absolute truth that the methods of extirpation\nadopted by Spaniards and Englishmen were detestable. I need not say\nthat I agree with him, and hope that such methods may be abolished\nwherever any remnant of them exists. But I say so partly because I\nbelieve in the struggle for existence. This process underlies morality,\nand operates whether we are moral or not. The most civilised race, that\nwhich has the greatest knowledge, skill, power of organisation, will, I\nhold, have an inevitable advantage in the struggle, even if it does not\nuse the brutal means which are superfluous as well as cruel. All the\nnatives who lived in America a hundred years ago would be dead now in\nany case, even if they had invariably been treated with the greatest\nhumanity, fairness, and consideration. Had they been unable to suit\nthemselves to new conditions of life, they would have suffered an\neuthanasia instead of a partial extirpation; and had they suited\nthemselves they would either have been absorbed or become a useful part\nof the population. To abolish the old brutal method is not to abolish\nthe struggle for existence, but to make the result depend upon a higher\norder of qualities than those of the mere piratical viking.\n\nMr. Pearson has been telling us in his most interesting book, that the\nnegro may not improbably hold his own in Africa. I cannot say I regard\nthis as an unmixed evil. Why should there not be parts of the world in\nwhich races of inferior intelligence or energy should hold their own? I\nam not so anxious to see the whole earth covered by an indefinite\nmultiplication of the cockney type. But I only quote the suggestion for\nanother reason. Till recent years the struggle for existence was\ncarried on as between Europeans and negroes by simple violence and\nbrutality. The slave trade and its consequences have condemned the\nwhole continent to barbarism. That, undoubtedly, was part of the\nstruggle for existence. But, if Mr. Pearson's guess should be verified,\nthe results have been so far futile as well as disastrous. The negro\nhas been degraded, and yet, after all our brutality, we cannot take his\nplace. Therefore, besides the enormous evils to slave-trading countries\nthemselves, the lowering of their moral tone, the substitution of\npiracy for legitimate commerce, and the degradation of the countries\nwhich bought the slaves, the superior race has not even been able to\nsuppress the inferior. But the abolition of this monstrous evil does\nnot involve the abolition but the humanisation of the struggle. The\nwhite man, however merciful he becomes, may gradually extend over such\nparts of the country as are suitable to him; and the black man will\nhold the rest and acquire such arts and civilisation as he is capable\nof appropriating. The absence of cruelty would not alter the fact that\nthe fittest race would extend; but it may ensure that whatever is good\nin the negro may have a chance of development in his own sphere, and\nthat success in the struggle will be decided by more valuable\nqualities.\n\nWithout venturing further into a rather speculative region, I need only\nindicate the bearing of such considerations upon problems nearer home.\nIt is often complained that the tendency of modern civilisation is to\npreserve the weakly, and therefore to lower the vitality of the race.\nThis seems to involve inadmissible assumptions. In the first place, the\nprocess by which the weaker are preserved consists in suppressing\nvarious conditions unfavourable to human life in general. Sanitary\nlegislation, for example, aims at destroying the causes of many of the\ndiseases from which our forefathers suffered. If we can suppress the\nsmallpox, we of course save many weakly children, who would have died\nhad they been attacked. But we also remove one of the causes which\nweakened the constitutions of many of the survivors. I do not know by\nwhat right we can say that such legislation, or again, the legislation\nwhich prevents the excessive labour of children, does more harm by\npreserving the weak than it does good by preventing the weakening of\nthe strong. One thing is at any rate clear: to preserve life is to\nincrease the population, and therefore to increase the competition; or,\nin other words, to intensify the struggle for existence. The process is\nas broad as it is long. If we could be sure that every child born\nshould grow up to maturity, the result would be to double the severity\nof the competition for support, What we should have to show, therefore,\nin order to justify the inference of a deterioration due to this\nprocess, would be, not that it simply increased the number of the\ncandidates for living, but that it gave to the feebler candidates a\ndifferential advantage; that they are now more fitted than they were\nbefore for ousting their superior neighbours from the chances of\nsupport. But I can see no reason for supposing such a consequence to be\nprobable or even possible. The struggle for existence, as I have\nsuggested, rests upon the unalterable facts that the world is limited\nand population elastic. Under all conceivable circumstances we shall\nstill have in some way or other to proportion our numbers to our\nsupplies; and under all circumstances those who are fittest by reason\nof intellectual or moral or physical qualities will have the best\nchance of occupying good places, and leaving descendants to supply the\nnext generation. It is surely not less true that in the civilised as\nmuch as in the most barbarous race, the healthiest are the most likely\nto live, and the most likely to be ancestors. If so, the struggle will\nstill be carried on upon the same principles, though certainly in a\ndifferent shape.\n\nIt is true that this suggests one of the most difficult questions of\nthe time. It is suggested, for example, that in some respects the\n\"highest\" specimens of the race are not the healthiest or the fittest.\nGenius, according to some people, is a variety of disease, and\nintellectual power is won by a diminution of reproductive power. A\nlower race, again, if we measure \"high\" and \"low\" by intellectual\ncapacity, may oust a higher race, because it can support itself more\ncheaply, or, in other words, because it is more efficient for\nindustrial purposes. Without presuming to pronounce upon such\nquestions, I will simply ask whether this does not interpret Professor\nHuxley's remark about that \"cosmic nature\" which is still so strong,\nand which is likely to be strong so long as men require stomachs. We\nhave not, I think, to suppress it, but to adapt it to new\ncircumstances. We are engaged in working out a gigantic problem: What\nis the best, in the sense of the most efficient, type of human being?\nWhat is the best combination of brains and stomach? We turn out saints,\nwho are \"too good to live,\" and philosophers, who have run too rapidly\nto brains. They do not answer in practice, because they are instruments\ntoo delicate for the rough work of daily life. They may give us a\nforetaste of qualities which will be some day possible for the average\nman; of intellectual and moral qualities, which, though now\nexceptional, may become commonplace. But the best stock for the race\nare those in whom we have been lucky enough to strike out the happy\ncombination, in which greater intellectual power is produced without\nthe loss of physical vigour. Such men, it is probable, will not deviate\nso widely from the average type. The reconciliation of the two\nconditions can only be effected by a very gradual process of slowly\nedging onwards in the right direction. Meanwhile the theory of a\nstruggle for existence justifies us, instead of condemning us, for\npreserving the delicate child, who may turn out to be a Newton or a\nKeats, because he will leave to us the advantage of his discoveries or\nhis poems, while his physical feebleness assures us that he will not\npropagate his race.\n\nThis may lead to a final question. Does the morality of a race\nstrengthen or weaken it; fit it to hold its own in the general\nequilibrium, or make its extirpation by low moral races more probable?\nI do not suppose that anybody would deny what I have already suggested,\nthat the more moral the race, the more harmonious and the better\norganised, the better it is fitted for holding its own. But if this be\nadmitted, we must also admit that the change is not that it has ceased\nto struggle, but that it struggles by different means. It holds its\nown, not merely by brute force, but by justice, humanity, and\nintelligence, while, it may be added, the possession of such qualities\ndoes not weaken the brute force, where such a quality is still\nrequired. The most civilised races are, of course, also the most\nformidable in war. But, if we take the opposite alternative, I must ask\nhow any quality which really weakens the vitality of the race can\nproperly be called moral. I should entirely repudiate any rule of\nconduct which could be shown to have such a tendency. This, indeed,\nindicates what seems to me to be the moral difficulty with most people.\nCharity, you say, is a virtue; charity increases beggary, and so far\ntends to produce a feebler population; therefore, a moral quality tends\ndoubly to diminish the vigour of a nation. The answer is, of course,\nobvious, and I am confident that Professor Huxley would have so far\nagreed with me. It is that all charity which fosters a degraded class\nis therefore immoral. The \"fanatical individualism\" of to-day has its\nweaknesses; but in this matter it seems to me that we see the weakness\nof the not less fanatical \"collectivism\".\n\nThe question, in fact, how far any of the socialistic or ethical\nschemes of to-day are right or wrong, depends upon our answer to the\nquestion how far they tend to produce a vigorous or an enervated\npopulation. If I am asked to subscribe to General Booth's scheme, I\ninquire first whether the scheme is likely to increase or diminish the\nnumber of helpless hangers-on upon the efficient part of society. Will\nthe whole nation consist in larger proportions of active and\nresponsible workers, or of people who are simply burdens upon the real\nworkers? The answer decides not only the question whether it is\nexpedient, but also the question whether it is right or wrong, to\nsupport the proposed scheme. Every charitable action is so far a good\naction that it implies sympathy for suffering; but if it is so much in\nwant of prudence that it increases the evil which it means to remedy,\nit becomes for that reason a bad action. To develop sympathy without\ndeveloping foresight is just one of the one-sided developments which\nfail to constitute a real advance in morality, though I will not deny\nthat it may incidentally lead to an advance.\n\nI hold, then, that the \"struggle for existence\" belongs to an\nunderlying order of facts to which moral epithets cannot be properly\napplied. It denotes a condition of which the moralist has to take\naccount, and to which morality has to be adapted; but which, just\nbecause it is a \"cosmic process,\" cannot be altered, however much we\nmay alter the conduct which it dictates. Under all conceivable\ncircumstances, the race has to adapt itself to the environment, and\nthat necessarily implies a conflict as well as an alliance. The\npreservation of the fittest, which is surely a good thing, is merely\nanother aspect of the dying out of the unfit, which is hardly a bad\nthing. The feast which Nature spreads before us, according to Malthus's\nmetaphor, is only sufficient for a limited number of guests, and the\none question is how to select them. The tendency of morality is to\nhumanise the struggle, to minimise the suffering of those who lose the\ngame; and to offer the prizes to the qualities which are advantageous\nto all, rather than to those which increase and intensify the\nbitterness of the conflict. This implies the growth of foresight, which\nis an extension of the earlier instinct, and enables men to adapt\nthemselves to the future and to learn from the past, as well as to act\nup to immediate impulse of present events. It implies still more the\ndevelopment of the sympathy which makes every man feel for the hurts of\nall, and which, as social organisation is closer, and the dependence of\neach constituent atom upon the whole organisation is more vividly\nrealised, extends the range of a man's interests beyond his own private\nneeds. In that sense, again, it must stimulate \"collectivism\" at the\nexpense of a crude individualism, and condemns the doctrine which, as\nProfessor Huxley puts it, would forbid us to restrain the member of a\ncommunity from doing his best to destroy it. To restrain such conduct\nis surely to carry on the conflict against all anti-social agents or\ntendencies. For I should certainly hold any form of collectivism to be\nimmoral which denied the essential doctrine of the abused\nindividualist, the necessity, that is, for individual responsibility.\nWe have surely to suppress the murderer, as our ancestors suppressed\nthe wolf. We have to suppress both the external enemies, the noxious\nanimals whose existence is incompatible with our own, and the internal\nenemies which are injurious elements in the society itself. That is, we\nhave to work for the same end of eliminating the least fit. Our methods\nare changed; we desire to suppress poverty, not to extirpate the poor\nman. We give inferior races a chance of taking whatever place they are\nfit for, and try to supplant them with the least possible severity if\nthey are unfit for any place. But the suppression of poverty supposes\nnot the confiscation of wealth, which would hardly suppress poverty in\nthe long run, nor even the adoption of a system of living which would\nenable the idle and the good-for-nothing to survive. The progress of\ncivilisation depends, I should say, on the extension of the sense of\nduty which each man owes to society at large. That involves such a\nconstitution of society that, although we abandon the old methods of\nhanging and flogging and shooting down--methods which corrupted the\ninflicters of punishment by diminishing their own sense of\nresponsibility--may give an advantage to the prudent and industrious,\nand make it more probable that they will be the ancestors of the next\ngeneration. A system which should equalise the advantages of the\nenergetic and the helpless would begin by demoralising, and would very\nsoon lead to an unprecedented intensification of the struggle for\nexistence. The probable result of a ruthless socialism would be the\nadoption of very severe means for suppressing those who did not\ncontribute their share of work. But, in any case, as it seems, we never\nget away or break away from the inevitable fact. If individual ends\ncould be suppressed, if every man worked for the good of society as\nenergetically as for his own, we should still feel the absolute\nnecessity of proportioning the whole body to the whole supplies\nobtainable from the planet, and to preserve the equilibrium of mankind\nrelatively to the rest of nature. That day is probably distant; but\neven upon that hypothesis the struggle for existence would still be\nwith us, and there would be the same necessity for preserving the\nfittest and killing out, as gently as might be, those who were unfit.","title":"Social Rights And Duties: Addresses to Ethical Societies. Vol 1 [of 2]","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":58993}