{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_36882/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_36882","id":"gutenberg_36882","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/36882","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Free thought"],"text":"</pre>\n\n\n\nProduced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, S.D., and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n               A Grammar of\n               Freethought.\n\n                    BY\n              CHAPMAN COHEN.\n\n  (_Issued by the Secular Society, Ltd._)\n\n                  LONDON:\n            THE PIONEER PRESS,\n        61 FARRINGDON STREET, E.C. 4.\n\n                   1921.\n\n\n_The Publishers wish to express their obligation to Mr. H. Cutner for\nthe very tasteful design which adorns the cover of this book._\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n  CHAPTER                                 PAGE\n\n      I.--OUTGROWING THE GODS                9\n\n     II.--LIFE AND MIND                     18\n\n    III.--WHAT IS FREETHOUGHT?              37\n\n     IV.--REBELLION AND REFORM              51\n\n      V.--THE STRUGGLE FOR THE CHILD        61\n\n     VI.--THE NATURE OF RELIGION            72\n\n    VII.--THE UTILITY OF RELIGION           88\n\n   VIII.--FREETHOUGHT AND GOD              101\n\n     IX.--FREETHOUGHT AND DEATH            111\n\n      X.--THIS WORLD AND THE NEXT          123\n\n     XI.--EVOLUTION                        134\n\n    XII.--DARWINISM AND DESIGN             146\n\n   XIII.--ANCIENT AND MODERN               162\n\n    XIV.--MORALITY WITHOUT GOD.--I.        172\n\n     XV.--MORALITY WITHOUT GOD.--II.       182\n\n    XVI.--CHRISTIANITY AND MORALITY        193\n\n   XVII.--RELIGION AND PERSECUTION         204\n\n  XVIII.--WHAT IS TO FOLLOW RELIGION?      223\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nIt must be left for those who read the following pages to decide how far\nthis book lives up to its title. That it leaves many aspects of life\nuntouched is quite clear, but there must be a limit to everything, even\nto the size and scope of a book; moreover, the work does not aim at\nbeing an encyclopaedia, but only an outline of what may fairly be\nregarded as the Freethought position. Freethought, again, is too fluid a\nterm to permit its teachings being summarized in a set creed, but it\ndoes stand for a certain definite attitude of mind in relation to those\nproblems of life with which thoughtful men and women concern themselves.\nIt is that mental attitude which I aim at depicting.\n\nTo those who are not directly concerned with the attack on\nsupernaturalism it may also be a matter of regret that so much of this\nwork is concerned with a criticism of religious beliefs. But that is an\naccident of the situation. We have not yet reached that stage in affairs\nwhen we can afford to let religion alone, and one may readily be excused\nthe suspicion that those who, without believing in it, profess to do so,\nare more concerned with avoiding a difficult, if not dangerous, subject,\nthan they are with the problem of developing sane and sound methods of\nthinking. And while some who stand forward as leaders of popular thought\nfail to do their part in the work of attacking supernaturalistic\nbeliefs, others are perforce compelled to devote more time than they\nwould otherwise to the task. That, in brief, is my apology for\nconcerning myself so largely with religious topics, and leaving almost\nuntouched other fields where the Freethought attitude would prove\nequally fruitful of results.\n\nAfter all, it is the mental attitude with which one approaches a problem\nthat really matters. The man or woman who has not learned to set mere\nauthority on one side in dealing with any question will never be more\nthan a mere echo, and what the world needs, now as ever, is not echoes\nbut voices. Information, knowledge, is essential to the helpful\nconsideration of any subject; but all the knowledge in the world will be\nof very little real help if it is not under the control of a right\nmethod. What is called scientific knowledge is, to-day, the commonest of\nacquisitions, and what most people appear to understand by that is the\naccumulation of a large number of positive facts which do, indeed, form\nthe raw material of science. But the getting of mere facts is like the\ngetting of money. The value of its accumulation depends upon the use\nmade thereof. It is the power of generalization, the perception and\napplication of principles that is all-important, and to this the grasp\nof a right method of investigation, the existence of a right mental\nattitude, is essential.\n\nThe world needs knowledge, but still more imperatively it needs the\nright use of the knowledge that is at its disposal. For this reason I\nhave been mainly concerned in these pages with indicating what I\nconsider to be the right mental attitude with which to approach certain\nfundamental questions. For, in a world so distracted by conflicting\nteachings as is ours, the value of a right method is almost\nincalculable. Scepticism, said Buckle, is not the result, but the\ncondition of progress, and the same may be said of Freethought. The\ncondition of social development is the realization that no institution\nand no teaching is beyond criticism. Criticism, rejection and\nmodification are the means by which social progress is achieved. It is\nby criticism of existing ideas and institutions, by the rejection of\nwhat is incapable of improvement, and by the modification of what\npermits of betterment, that we show ourselves worthy of the better\ntraditions of the past, and profitable servants of the present and the\nfuture.\n\n  C. C.\n\n\n\n\nA GRAMMAR OF FREETHOUGHT.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nOUTGROWING THE GODS.\n\n\nOne of the largest facts in the history of man is religion. If it were\notherwise the justification for writing the following pages, and for\nattempting the proof that, so far as man's history is concerned with\nreligion, it is little better than a colossal blunder, would not be\nnearly so complete. Moreover, it is a generalization upon which\nreligionists of all classes love to dwell, or even to parade as one of\nthe strongest evidences in their favour; and it is always pleasant to be\nable to give your opponent all for which he asks--feeling, meanwhile,\nthat you lose nothing in the giving. Universality of belief in religion\nreally proves no more than the universality of telling lies. \"All men\nare liars\" is as true, or as false, as \"All men are religious.\" For some\nmen are not liars, and some men are not religious. All the\ngeneralization means is that some of both are found in every age and in\nevery country, and that is true whether we are dealing with the liar or\nwith the religious person.\n\nWhat is ignored is the consideration that while at one stage of culture\nreligious belief is the widest and most embracing of all beliefs it\nsubsequently weakens, not quite in direct proportion to the advance of\nculture, but yet in such a way that one can say there is an actual\nrelation between a preponderance of the one and a weakening of the\nother. In very primitive communities gods are born and flourish with all\nthe rank exuberance of a tropical vegetation. In less primitive times\ntheir number diminishes, and their sphere of influence becomes more and\nmore sharply defined. The gods are still credited with the ability to do\ncertain things, but there are other things which do somehow get done\nwithout them. How that discovery and that division are made need not\ndetain us for the moment, but the fact is patent. Advancing civilization\nsees the process continued and quickened, nay, that is civilization; for\nuntil nature is rid of her \"haughty lords\" and man realizes that there\nare at least some natural forces that come within the control of his\nintelligence, civilization cannot really be said to have commenced.\nContinued advance sees the gods so diminished in power and so weakened\nin numbers that their very impotency is apt to breed for them the kind\nof pity that one feels for a millionaire who becomes a pauper, or for an\nautocratic monarch reduced to the level of a voteless citizen.\n\nThe truth is that all the gods, like their human creators, have in their\nbirth the promise of death. The nature of their birth gives them life,\nbut cannot promise them immortality. However much man commences by\nworshipping gods, he sooner or later turns his back upon them. Like the\nbiblical deity he may look at his creation and declare it good, but he\nalso resembles this deity in presently feeling the impulse to destroy\nwhat he has made. To the products of his mind man can no more give\nimmortality than he can to the work of his hands. In many cases the work\nof his hands actually outlives that of his mind, for we have to-day the\nremains of structures that were built in the honour of gods whose very\nnames are forgotten. And to bury his gods is, after all, the only real\napology that man can offer for having created them.\n\nThis outgrowing of religion is no new thing in human history. Thoughtful\nobservers have always been struck by the mortality among the gods,\nalthough their demise has usually been chronicled in terms of exultation\nby rival worshippers. But here and there a keener observer has brought\nto bear on the matter a breadth of thought which robbed the phenomenon\nof its local character and gave it a universal application. Thus, in one\nof his wonderfully modern dialogues Lucian depicts the Olympian deities\ndiscussing, much in the spirit of a modern Church Congress, the\nprevalence of unbelief among men. The gods are disturbed at finding that\nmen are reaching the stage of either not believing, or not troubling\nabout them. There is a great deal of talk, and finally one of the minor\ndeities treats them to a little plain truth--which appears to be as\nrare, and as unwelcome in heaven as on earth. He says--I quote from\nFroude's translation:--\n\n     What other conclusion could they arrive at when they saw the\n     confusion around them? Good men neglected, perishing in penury and\n     slavery, and profligate wretches wealthy, honoured and powerful.\n     Sacrilegious temple robbers undiscovered and unpunished; devotees\n     and saints beaten and crucified. With such phenomena before them,\n     of course men have doubted our existence.... We affect surprise\n     that men who are not fools decline to put their faith in us. We\n     ought rather to be pleased that there is a man left to say his\n     prayers. We are among ourselves with no strangers present. Tell us,\n     then, Zeus, have you ever really taken pains to distinguish between\n     good men and bad? Theseus, not you, destroyed the robbers in\n     Attica. As far as Providence was concerned, Sciron and\n     Pity-O-Campus might have murdered and plundered to the end of time.\n     If Eurystheus had not looked into matters, and sent Hercules upon\n     his labours little would you have troubled yourself with the Hydras\n     and Centaurs. Let us be candid. All that we have really cared for\n     has been a steady altar service. Everything else has been left to\n     chance. And now men are opening their eyes. They perceive that\n     whether they pray or don't pray, go to church or don't go to\n     church, makes no difference to them. And we are receiving our\n     deserts.\n\nThe case could hardly be put more effectively. It is the appeal to\nexperience with a vengeance, a form of argument of which religionists in\ngeneral are very fond. Of course, the argument does not touch the\nquestion of the mere existence of a god, but it does set forth the\nrevolt of awakened common sense against the worship of a \"moral governor\nof the universe.\" We can say of our day, as Lucian said of his, that men\nare opening their eyes, and as a consequence the gods are receiving\ntheir deserts.\n\nGenerally speaking, it is not difficult to see the various steps by\nwhich man outgrew the conception of the government of the world by\nintelligent forces. From what we know of primitive thought we may say\nthat at first the gods dominated all. From the fall of a rain-drop to\nthe movement of a planet all was the work of gods. Merely to question\ntheir power was the wildest of errors and the gravest of crimes. Bit by\nbit this vast territory was reclaimed--a task at the side of which the\nconquest of the fever-stricken tropics or the frozen north is mere\nchild's play. It is quite needless to enter into an elaborate\nspeculation as to the exact steps by which this process of\ndeanthropomorphization--to use a word of the late John Fiske's--was\naccomplished, but one can picture the main line by what we see taking\nplace at later stages of development. And there is no exception to the\nrule that so soon as any group of phenomena is brought within the\nconception of law the notion of deity in connection with those phenomena\ntends to die out. And the sum of the process is seen in the work of the\ngreat law givers of science, Copernicus, Galileo, Kepler, Newton,\nLaplace, Lyell, Dalton, Darwin, etc., who between them have presented us\nwith a universe in which the conception of deity simply has no place.\nApologies apart, the idea of deity is foreign to the spirit and method\nof modern science.\n\nIn the region of the purely physical sciences this process may be\nregarded as complete. In morals and sociology, purely on account of the\ngreater complexity of the subjects, mystical and semi-supernatural\nconceptions still linger, but it is only a question of time for these\nbranches of knowledge to follow the same course as the physical\nsciences. In morals we are able to trace, more or less completely, the\ndevelopment of the moral sense from its first beginnings in the animal\nworld to its highest developments in man. What is called the \"mystery of\nmorality\" simply has no existence to anyone who is not a mystery-monger\nby profession or inclination. And here, too, the gods have been\nreceiving their deserts. For it is now clear that instead of being a\nhelp to morals there has been no greater obstacle to a healthy morality\nthan the play of religious ideas. In the name of God vices have been\ndeclared virtues and virtues branded as vices. Belief in God has been an\nunending source of moral perversion, and it lies upon the face of\nhistorical development that an intelligent morality, one that is capable\nof adapting itself to the changing circumstances of human nature, has\nonly become possible with the breaking down of religious authority.\n\nExactly the same phenomenon faces us in connection with social life. We\nhave to go back but a little way in human history to come to a time\nwhen the existence of a State without a religion would have seemed to\npeople impossible. Much as Christians have quarrelled about other\nthings, they have been in agreement on this point. The historic fight\nbetween the established Church and the Nonconformists has never really\nbeen for the disestablishment of all religion, and the confining of the\nState to the discharge of purely secular functions, but mainly as to\n_which_ religion the State shall uphold. To-day, the central issue is\nwhether the State shall teach any religion, whether that does not lie\nright outside its legitimate functions. And this marks an enormous\nadvance. It is a plain recognition of the truth that the gods have\nnothing to contribute of any value to the development of our social\nlife. It marks the beginning of the end, and registers the truth that\nman must be his own saviour here as elsewhere. As in Lucian's day we are\nbeginning to realize that whether we pray or don't pray, go to church or\ndon't go to church, believe in the gods or don't believe in them, makes\nno real or substantial difference to natural happenings. Now as then we\nsee good men punished and bad ones rewarded, and they who are not fools\nand have the courage to look facts in the face, decline to put their\nfaith in a deity who is incapable of doing all things right or too\ncareless to exert his power.\n\nIt is not that the fight is over, or that there is to-day little need to\nfight the forces of superstition. If that were so, there would be no\nneed to write what is here written. Much as has been done, there is much\nyet to do. The revolt against specific beliefs only serves to illustrate\na fight that is of much greater importance. For there is little real\nsocial gain if one merely exchanges one superstition for another. And,\nunfortunately, the gentleman who declared that he had given up the\nerrors of the Church of Rome in order to embrace those of the Church of\nEngland represents a fairly common type. It is the prevalence of a\nparticular type of mind in society that constitutes a danger, and it is\nagainst this that our aim is ultimately directed. Great as is the amount\nof organized superstition that exists, the amount of unorganized\nsuperstition is still greater, and probably more dangerous. One of the\nrevelations of the late war was the evidence it presented of the\ntremendous amount of raw credulity, of the low type of intelligence that\nwas still current, and the small amount of critical ability the mass of\npeople bring to bear upon life. The legends that gained currency--the\narmy of Russians crossing England, the number of mutilated Belgian\nbabies that were seen, the story of the Germans boiling down their dead\nto extract the fat, a story that for obscene stupidity beats everything\nelse, the Mons angels, the craze for mascots--all bore witness to the\nprevalence of a frame of mind that bodes ill for progress.\n\nThe truth is, as Sir James Frazer reminds us, that modern society is\nhoneycombed with superstitions that are not in themselves a whit more\nintellectually respectable than those which dominate the minds of\nsavages. \"The smooth surface of cultured society is sapped and mined by\nsuperstition.\" Now and again these hidden mines explode noisily, but the\nsuperstition is always there, to be exploited by those who have the wit\nto use it. From this point of view Christianity is no more than a\nsymptom of a source of great social weakness, a manifestation of a\nweakness that may find expression in strange and unexpected but always\nmore or less dangerous ways. It is against the prevalence of this type\nof mind that the Freethinker is really fighting. Freethinkers\nrealize--apparently they are the only ones that do realize--that the\ncreation of a better type of society is finally dependent upon the\nexistence of a sanely educated intelligence, and that will never exist\nwhile there are large bodies of people who can persuade themselves that\nhuman welfare is in some way dependent upon, or furthered by, practices\nand beliefs that are not a bit more intellectually respectable than\nthose of the cave men. If Christianity, as a mere system of beliefs,\nwere destroyed, we should only have cleared the way for the final fight.\nThousands of generations of superstitious beliefs and practices that\nhave embodied themselves in our laws, our customs, our language, and our\ninstitutions, are not to be easily destroyed. It is comparatively simple\nto destroy a particular manifestation of this disastrous heritage, but\nthe type of mind to which it has given birth is not so easily removed.\n\nThe fight is not over, but it is being fought from a new vantage ground,\nand with better weapons than have ever before been employed. History,\nanthropology, and psychology have combined to place in the hands of the\nmodern Freethinker more deadly weapons than those of previous\ngenerations were able to employ. Before these weapons the defences of\nthe faith crumble like wooden forts before modern artillery. It is no\nlonger a question of debating whether religious beliefs are true. So\nlong as we give a straightforward and honest meaning to those beliefs we\nknow that they are not true. It is, to-day, mainly a question of making\nplain the nature of the forces which led men and women to regard them as\nbeing true. We know that the history of religion is the history of a\ndelusion, and the task of the student is to recover those conditions\nwhich gave to this delusion an appearance of truth and reality. That is\nbecoming more and more evident to all serious and informed students of\nthe subject.\n\nThe challenge of Freethought to religion constitutes one of the oldest\nstruggles in human history. It must have had its beginning in the first\nglimmer of doubt concerning a tribal deity which crossed the mind of\nsome more than usually thoughtful savage. Under various forms and in\nmany ways it has gone on ever since. It has had many variations of\nfortune, often apparently completely crushed, only to rise again\nstronger and more daring than ever. To-day, Freethought is the accepted\nmental attitude of a growing number of men and women whose intelligence\nadmits of no question. It has taken a recognized place in the\nintellectual world, and its hold on the educated intelligence is rapidly\nincreasing. It may well be that in one form or another the antagonism\nbetween critical Freethought and accepted teaching, whether secular or\nreligious, will continue as one of the permanent aspects of social\nconflict. But so far as supernaturalism is concerned the final issue can\nbe no longer in doubt. It is not by one voice or by one movement that\nsupernaturalism is condemned. Its condemnation is written in the best\nforms of art, science and literature. And that is only another way of\nsaying that it is condemned by life. Freethought holds the future in\nfee, and nothing but an entire reversal of the order of civilization can\nforce it to forego its claims.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nLIFE AND MIND.\n\n\nThe outstanding feature of what may be called the natural history of\nassociated life is the way in which biologic processes are gradually\ndominated by psychologic ones. Whatever be the nature of mind, a\nquestion that in no way concerns us here, there is no denying the\nimportance of the phenomena that come within that category. To speak of\nthe first beginnings of mind is, in this connection, idle language. In\nscience there are no real beginnings. Things do not begin to be, they\nsimply emerge, and their emergence is as imperceptible as the\ndisplacement of night by day, or the development of the chicken from the\negg. But whatever the nature of the beginning of mind, its appearance in\nthe evolutionary series marked an event of profound and revolutionary\nimportance. Life received a new impetus, and the struggle for existence\na new significance, the importance of which is not, even to-day,\ngenerally recognized. The old formulae might still be used, but they had\ngiven to them a new significance. The race was still to the swift and\nthe battle to the strong, but swiftness and strength were manifested in\nnew ways and by new means. Cunning and intelligence began to do what was\nformerly done without their co-operation. A new force had appeared,\narising out of the older forces as chemistry develops from physics and\nbiology from both. And, as we should expect from analogy, we find the\nnew force dominating the older ones, and even bending them to its\nneeds.\n\nAssociated life meets us very early in the story of animal existence,\nand we may assume that it ranks as a genuine \"survival quality.\" It\nenables some animals to survive the attacks of others that are\nindividually stronger, and it may even be, as has been suggested, that\nassociated life is the normal form, and that solitary animals represent\na variation from the normal, or perhaps a case of degeneration. But one\nresult of associated life is that it paves the way for the emergence of\nmind as an active force in social evolution. In his suggestive and\nimportant work on _Mutual Aid_, Kropotkin has well shown how in the\nanimal world the purely biologic form of the struggle for existence is\nchecked and transformed by the factors of mutual aid, association and\nprotection. His illustrations cover a very wide field; they include a\ngreat variety of animal forms, and he may fairly claim to have\nestablished the proposition that \"an instinct has been slowly developed\namong animals and men in the course of an extremely long evolution ...\nwhich has taught animals and men alike the force they can borrow from\nmutual aid and support, and the joys they can find in social life.\"\n\nBut there is, on the whole, a very sharp limit set to the development of\nmind in the animal world. One cause of this is the absence of a true\n\"social medium,\" to use the admirable phrase of that versatile thinker,\nGeorge Henry Lewes. In the case of man, speech and writing enable him to\ngive to his advances and discoveries a cumulative force such as can\nnever exist in their absence. On that subject more will be said later.\nAt present we may note another very important consequence of the\ndevelopment of mind in evolution. In pre-human, or sub-human society,\nperfection in the struggle for existence takes the form of the creation\nor the perfecting of an organic tool. Teeth or claws become stronger or\nlarger, a limb is modified, sight becomes keener, or there is a new\neffect in coloration. The changes here, it will be observed, are all of\nan organic kind, they are a part of the animal and are inseparable from\nit, and they are only transmissible by biologic heredity. And the rate\nof development is, of necessity, slow.\n\nWhen we turn to man and note the way in which he overcomes the\ndifficulties of his environment, we find them to be mainly of a\ndifferent order. His instruments are not personal, in the sense of being\na part of his organic structure. We may say they do not belong to him so\nmuch as they do to the race; while they are certainly transmitted from\ngeneration to generation irrespective of individuals. Instead of\nachieving conquest of his environment by developing an organic\nstructure, man creates an inorganic tool. In a sense he subdues and\nmoulds the environment to his needs, rather than modifies his structure\nin order to cope with the environment. Against extremes of temperature\nhe fashions clothing and builds habitations. He discovers fire, probably\nthe most important discovery ever made by mankind. He adds to his\nstrength in defence and attack by inventing weapons. He guards himself\nfrom starvation by planting seeds, and so harnesses the productive\nforces of nature to his needs. He tames animals and so secures living\nengines of labour. Later, he compensates for his bodily weaknesses by\ninventing instruments which aid sight, hearing, etc. Inventions are\nmultiplied, methods of locomotion and transportation are discovered, and\nthe difficulties of space and time are steadily minimized. The net\nresult of all this is that as a mere biologic phenomenon man's evolution\nis checked. The biologic modifications that still go on are of\ncomparatively small importance, except, probably, in the case of\nevolution against disease. The developments that take place are mainly\nmental in form and are social in their incidence.\n\nNow if the substantial truth of what has been said be admitted, and I do\nnot see how it can be successfully challenged, there arise one or two\nconsiderations of supreme importance. The first of these is that social\nhistory becomes more and more a history of social psychology. In social\nlife we are watching the play of social mind expressed through the\nmedium of the individual. The story of civilization is the record of the\npiling of idea on idea, and the transforming power of the whole on the\nenvironment. For tools, from the flint chip of primitive man, down to\nthe finished instrument of the modern mechanic, are all so many products\nof human mentality. From the primitive dug-out to the Atlantic liner,\nfrom the stone spear-head to the modern rifle, in all the inventions of\ncivilized life we are observing the application of mind to the conquest\nof time, space, and material conditions. Our art, our inventions, our\ninstitutions, are all so many illustrations of the power of mind in\ntransforming the environment. A history of civilization, as\ndistinguished from a mere record of biologic growth, is necessarily a\nhistory of the growing power of mind. It is the cumulative ideas of the\npast expressed in inventions and institutions that form the driving\npower behind the man of to-day. These ideas form the most valuable part\nof man's heritage, make him what he is, and contain the promise of all\nthat he may become.\n\nSo long as we confine ourselves to biologic evolution, the way in which\nqualities are transmitted is plain. There is no need to go beyond the\norganism itself. But this heritage of ideas, peculiarly human as it is,\nrequires a \"carrier\" of an equally unique kind. It is at this point that\nthe significance of what we have called the \"social medium\" emerges.\nThe full significance of this was first seen by G. H. Lewes.[1] Writing\nso far back as 1879 he said:--\n\n     The distinguishing character of human psychology is that to the\n     three great factors, organism, external medium, and heredity; it\n     adds a fourth, namely, the relation to a social medium, with its\n     product, the general mind.... While the mental functions are\n     products of the individual organism, the product, mind, is more\n     than an individual product. Like its great instrument language, it\n     is at once individual and social. Each man speaks in virtue of the\n     functions of vocal expression, but also in virtue of the social\n     need of communication. The words spoken are not his creation, yet\n     he, too, must appropriate them by what may be called a creative\n     process before he can understand them. What his tribe speaks he\n     repeats; but he does not simply echo their words, he rethinks them.\n     In the same way he adopts their experiences when he assimilates\n     them to his own.... Further, the experiences come and go; they\n     correct, enlarge, and destroy one another, leaving behind them a\n     certain residual store, which condensed in intuitions and\n     formulated in principles, direct and modify all future\n     experiences.... Men living in groups co-operate like the organs in\n     an organism. Their actions have a common impulse to a common end.\n     Their desires and opinions bear the common stamp of an impersonal\n     direction. Much of their life is common to all. The roads,\n     market-places and temples are for each and all. Customs arise and\n     are formulated in laws, the restraint of all.... Each generation is\n     born in this social medium, and has to adapt itself to the\n     established forms.... A nation, a tribe, a sect is the medium of\n     the individual mind, as a sea, a river, or a pond, is the medium of\n     a fish.[2]\n\n[1] It will ease my feelings if I am permitted to here make a protest\nagainst the shameless way in which this suggestive writer has been\npillaged by others without the slightest acknowledgement. They have\nfound him, as Lamb said of some other writers, \"damned good to steal\nfrom.\" His series of volumes, _Problems of Life and Mind_, have been\nborrowed from wholesale without the slightest thanks or recognition.\n\n[2] _Study of Psychology_, pp. 139, 161-5. So again, a more recent\nwriter says: \"It is not man himself who thinks but his social community;\nthe source of his thoughts is in the social medium in which he lives,\nthe social atmosphere which he breathes.... The influence of environment\nupon the human mind has always been recognized by psychologists and\nphilosophers, but it has been considered a secondary factor. On the\ncontrary, the social medium which the child enters at birth, in which he\nlives, moves and has his being, is fundamental. Toward this environment\nthe individual from childhood to ripest old age is more or less\nreceptive; rarely can the maturest minds so far succeed in emancipating\nthemselves from this medium so far as to undertake independent\nreflection, while complete emancipation is impossible, for all the\norgans and modes of thought, all the organs for constructing thoughts\nhave been moulded or at least thoroughly imbued by it\" (L. Gumplowicz,\n_Outlines of Sociology_, p. 157).\n\nBiologically, what man inherits is capacity for acquisition. But what he\nshall acquire, the direction in which his native capacity shall express\nitself, is a matter over which biologic forces have no control. This is\ndetermined by society and social life. Given quite equal capacity in two\nindividuals, the output will be very different if one is brought up in a\nremote Spanish village and the other in Paris or London. Whether a man\nshouts long live King George or long live the Kaiser is mainly a\nquestion of social surroundings, and but very little one of difference\nin native capacity. The child of parents living in the highest civilized\nsociety, if taken away while very young and brought up amid a people in\na very primitive state of culture, would, on reaching maturity, differ\nbut little from the people around him. He would think the thoughts that\nwere common to the society in which he was living as he would speak\ntheir language and wear their dress. Had Shakespeare been born among\nsavages he could never have written _Hamlet_. For the work of the\ngenius, as for that of the average man, society must provide the\nmaterials in the shape of language, ideas, institutions, and the\nthousand and one other things that go to make up the life of a group,\nand which may be seen reflected in the life of the individual. Suppose,\nsays Dr. McDougall:--\n\n     that throughout the period of half a century every child born to\n     English parents was at once exchanged (by the power of a magician's\n     wand) for an infant of the French, or other, European nation. Soon\n     after the close of this period the English nation would be composed\n     of individuals of French extraction, and the French of individuals\n     of English extraction. It is, I think, clear that, in spite of this\n     complete exchange of innate characters between the two nations,\n     there would be but little immediate change of national\n     characteristics. The French people would still speak French, and\n     the English would speak English, with all the local diversities to\n     which we are accustomed and without perceptible change of\n     pronunciation. The religion of the French would still be\n     predominantly Roman Catholic, and the English people would still\n     present the same diversity of Protestant creeds. The course of\n     political institutions would have suffered no profound change, the\n     customs and habits of the two peoples would exhibit only such\n     changes as might be attributed to the lapse of time, though an\n     acute observer might notice an appreciable approximation of the two\n     peoples towards one another in all these respects. The inhabitant\n     of France would still be a Frenchman and the inhabitant of England\n     an Englishman to all outward seeming, save that the physical\n     appearance of the two peoples would be transposed. And we may go\n     even further and assert that the same would hold good if a similar\n     exchange of infants were effected between the English and any other\n     less closely allied nation, say the Turks or the Japanese.[3]\n\n[3] _Social Psychology_, pp. 330-1.\n\nThe products of human capacity are the material of which civilization is\nbuilt; these products constitute the inheritance which one generation\nreceives from another. Whether this inheritance be large or small,\nsimple or complex, it is the chief determinant which shapes the\npersonality of each individual. What each has by biological heredity is\na given structure, that is, capacity. But the direction of that\ncapacity, the command it enables one to acquire over his environment, is\nin turn determined by the society into which he happens to be born.\n\nIt has already been said that the materials of civilization, whether\nthey be tools, or institutions, or inventions, or discoveries, or\nreligious or ethical teachings, are facts that can be directly described\nas psychological. An institution--the Church, the Crown, the\nMagistracy--is not transmitted as a building or as so many sheets of\npaper, but as an idea or as a set of ideas. A piece of machinery is, in\nthe same way, a mental fact, and is a physical one in only a subordinate\nsense. And if this be admitted, we reach the further truth that the\nenvironment to which man has to adapt himself is essentially, so far as\nit is a social environment, psychological. Not alone are the outward\nmarks of social life--the houses in which man lives, the machines he\nuses to do his bidding--products of his mental activity, but the more\nimportant features of his environment, to which he must adapt himself,\nand which so largely shape his character and determine his conduct, are\nof a wholly psychological character. In any society that is at all\ndistinct from the animal, there exist a number of beliefs, ideas and\ninstitutions, traditions, and, in a later stage, a literature which play\na very important part in determining the direction of man's mind. With\nincreasing civilization, and the development of better means of\nintercourse, any single society finds itself brought into touch and\nunder the influence of other social groups. The whole of these\ninfluences constitute a force which, surrounding an individual at birth,\ninevitably shapes character in this or that direction. They dominate the\nphysical aspect of life, and represent the determining forces of social\ngrowth. Eliminate the psychological forces of life and you eliminate all\nthat can be properly called civilization. It is wholly the transforming\npower of mind on the environment that creates civilization, and it is\nonly by a steady grasp of this fact that civilization can be properly\nunderstood.\n\nI have pointed out a distinction between biological and social, or\npsychological, heredity. But there is one instance in which the two\nagree. This is that we can only understand a thing by its history. We\nmay catalogue the existing peculiarities of an animal form with no other\nmaterial than that of the organism before us, but thoroughly to\nunderstand it we must know its history. Similarly, existing institutions\nmay have their justification in the present, but the causes of their\nexistence lie buried in the past. A king may to-day be honoured on\naccount of his personal worth, but the reason why there is a king to be\nhonoured carries us back to that state of culture in which the primitive\npriest and magic worker inspires fear and awe. When we ring bells to\ncall people to church we perpetuate the fact that our ancestors rang\nthem to drive away evil spirits. We wear black at a funeral because our\nprimitive ancestors wished to hide themselves from the dead man's\nghost. We strew flowers on a grave because food and other things were\nonce buried with the dead so that their spirits might accompany the dead\nto the next world. In short, with all human customs we are forced, if we\nwish to know the reason for their present existence, to seek it in the\nideas that have dominated the minds of previous generations.[4]\n\n[4] \"The tyranny exercised unconsciously on men's minds is the only real\ntyranny, because it cannot be fought against. Tiberius, Ghengis Khan,\nand Napoleon were assuredly redoubtable tyrants, but from the depths of\ntheir graves Moses, Buddha, Jesus, and Mahomet exerted on the human soul\na far profounder tyranny. A conspiracy may overthrow a tyrant, but what\ncan it avail against a firmly established belief? In its violent\nstruggle with Roman Catholicism it is the French Revolution that has\nbeen vanquished, and this in spite of the fact that the sympathy of the\ncrowd was apparently on its side, and in spite of recourse to\ndestructive measures as pitiless as those of the Inquisition. The only\nreal tyrants that humanity has known have always been the memories of\nits dead, or the illusions it has forged for itself\" (Gustave Le Bon,\n_The Crowd_, p. 153).\n\nNo one who has studied, in even a cursory manner, the development of our\nsocial institutions can avoid recognition of the profound influence\nexerted by the primitive conceptions of life, death, and of the\ncharacter of natural forces. Every one of our social institutions was\nborn in the shadow of superstition, and superstition acts as a powerful\nforce in determining the form they assume. Sir Henry Maine has shown to\nwhat a large extent the laws of inheritance are bound up with ancestor\nworship.[5] Spencer has done the same service for nearly all our\ninstitutions,[6] and Mr. Elton says that \"the oldest customs of\ninheritance in England and Germany were, in their beginnings, connected\nwith a domestic religion, and based upon a worship of ancestral spirits\nof which the hearthplace was essentially the altar.\"[7] The same truth\nmeets us in the study of almost any institution. In fact, it is not long\nbefore one who _thinks_ evolution, instead of merely knowing its\nformulae, begins to realize the truth of the saying by a German\nsociologist that in dealing with social institutions we are concerned\nwith the \"mental creations of aggregates.\" They are dependent upon the\npersistence of a set of ideas, and so long as these ideas are unshaken\nthey are substantially indestructible. To remove them the ideas upon\nwhich they rest must be shaken and robbed of their authority. That is\nthe reason why at all times the fight for reform so largely resolves\nitself into a contest of ideas. Motives of self-interest may enter into\nthe defence of an institution, and in some case may be responsible for\nthe attempt to plant an institution where it does not already exist, but\nin the main institutions persist because of their harmony with a frame\nof mind that is favourable to their being.\n\n[5] See _Early History of Institutions_, and _Early Law and Custom_.\n\n[6] _Principles of Sociology_, Vol. I.\n\n[7] _Origins of English History_, p. 261.\n\nA great deal of criticism has been directed against the conclusion of\nBuckle that improvement in the state of mankind has chiefly resulted\nfrom an improvement in the intellectual outlook. And yet when stated\nwith the necessary qualifications the generalization is as sound as it\ncan well be. Certainly, the belief held in some quarters, and stated\nwith an air of scientific precision, that the material environment is\nthe active force which is ever urging to new mental development will not\nfit the facts; for, as we have seen, the environment to which human\nnature must adapt itself is mainly mental in character, that is, it is\nmade up in an increasing measure of the products of man's own mental\nactivity. The theory of the sentimental religionist that the evil in the\nworld results from the wickedness of man, or, as he is fond of putting\nit, from the hardness of man's heart, is grotesque in its\nineffectiveness. Soft heads have far more to do with the evil in the\nworld than have hard hearts. Indeed, one of the standing difficulties of\nthe orthodox moralist is, not to explain the deeds of evil men, which\nexplain themselves, but to account for the harm done by \"good\" men, and\noften as a consequence of their goodness. The moral monster is a rarity,\nand evil is rarely the outcome of a clear perception of its nature and a\ndeliberate resolve to pursue it. Paradoxical as it may sound, it demands\na measure of moral strength to do wrong, consciously and deliberately,\nwhich the average man or woman does not possess. And the world has never\nfound it a matter of great difficulty to deal with its \"bad\" characters;\nit is the \"good\" ones that present it with a constant problem.\n\nThe point is worth stressing, and we may do it from more than one point\nof view. We may take, first of all, the familiar illustration of\nreligious persecution, as exemplified in the quarrels of Catholics and\nProtestants. On the ground of moral distinction no line could be drawn\nbetween the two parties. Each shuddered at the persecution inflicted by\nthe other, and each regarded the teachings of the other with the same\ndegree of moral aversion. And it has often been noted that the men who\nadministered so infamous an institution as the Inquisition were not, in\neven the majority of cases, bad men.[8] A few may have had interested\nmotives, but it would have been impossible to have maintained so brutal\nan institution in the absence of a general conviction of its rightness.\nIn private life those who could deliver men, women, and even children\nover to torture were not worse husbands or parents than others. Such\ndifferences as existed cannot be attributed to a lack of moral\nendeavour, or to a difference of \"moral temperament.\" It was a\ndifference of intellectual outlook, and given certain religious\nconvictions persecution became a religious necessity. The moral output\nwas poor because the intellectual standpoint was a wrong one.\n\n[8] Speaking of the Inquisition, Mr. H. C. Lea, in his classic _History\nof the Inquisition_, says, \"There is no doubt that the people were as\neager as their pastors to send the heretic to the stake. There is no\ndoubt that men of the kindliest tempers, the profoundest aspirations,\nthe purest zeal for righteousness, professing a religion founded on love\nand charity, were ruthless where heresy was concerned, and were ready to\ntrample it out at any cost. Dominic and Francis, Bonaventure and Thomas\nAquinas, Innocent III. and St. Louis, were types, in their several ways,\nof which humanity, in any age, might feel proud, and yet they were as\nunsparing of the heretic as Ezzelin di Romano was of his enemies. With\nsuch men it was not hope of gain or lust of blood or pride of opinion or\nwanton exercise of power, but sense of duty, and they but represented\nwhat was universal public opinion from the thirteenth to the seventeenth\ncentury.\" Vol. I., p. 234.\n\nIf we could once get over the delusion of thinking of human nature as\nbeing fundamentally different five hundred years ago from what it is\nto-day, we should escape a great many fallacies that are prevalent. The\nchanges that have taken place in human nature during the historic period\nare so slight as to be practically negligible. The motives that animate\nmen and women to-day are the motives that animated men and women a\nthousand or two thousand years ago. The change is in the direction and\nform of their manifestation only, and it is in the light of the human\nnature around us that we must study and interpret the human nature that\nhas gone before us. From that point of view we may safely conclude that\nbad institutions were kept in being in the past for the same reason\nthat they are kept alive to-day. The majority must be blind to their\nbadness; and in any case it is a general perception of their badness\nwhich leads to their destruction.\n\nThe subject of crime illustrates the same point. Against crime as such,\nsociety is as set as ever. But our attitude toward the causation and\ncure of crime, and, above all, to the treatment of the criminal, has\nundergone a profound alteration. And the change that has taken place\nhere has been away from the Christian conception which brutalized the\nworld for so long, towards the point of view taken up by the ancient\nGreeks, that wrong doing is the outcome of ignorance. Expressed in the\nmodern manner we should say that crime is the result of an undeveloped\nnature, or of a pathological one, or of a reversion to an earlier\npredatory type, or the result of any or all of these factors in\ncombination with defective social conditions. But this is only another\nway of saying that we have exchanged the old, brutal, and ineffective\nmethods for more humane and effective ones because we look at the\nproblem of crime from a different intellectual angle. A more exact\nknowledge of the causation of crime has led us to a more sensible and a\nmore humane treatment of the criminal. And this, not alone in his own\nbehalf, but in the interests of the society in which he lives. We may\nput it broadly that improvement comes from an enlightened way of looking\nat things. Common observation shows that people will go on tolerating\nforms of brutality, year after year, without the least sense of their\nwrongness. Familiarity, and the absence of any impetus to examine\ncurrent practice from a new point of view seem to account for this. In\nthe seventeenth century the same people who could watch, without any\napparent hostility, the torture of an old woman on the fantastic charge\nof intercourse with Satan, had their feelings outraged by hearing a\nsecular song on Sunday. Imprisonment for \"blasphemy,\" once regarded as a\nduty, has now become ridiculous to all reasonable people. At one and the\nsame time, a little more than a hundred years ago in this country, the\nsame people who could denounce cock-fighting on account of its\nbrutality, could watch unmoved the murdering of little children in the\nfactories of Lancashire. Not so long ago men in this country fought\nduels under a sense of moral compulsion, and the practice was only\nabandoned when a changed point of view made people realize the absurdity\nof trying to settle the justice of a cause by determining which of two\npeople were the most proficient with sword or pistol. We have a\ncontinuation of the same absurdity in those larger duels fought by\nnations where the old verbal absurdities still retain their full force,\nand where we actually add another absurdity by retaining a number of\nprofessional duellists who must be ready to embark on a duel whether\nthey have any personal feeling in the matter or not. And it seems fairly\nsafe to say that when it is realized that the duel between nations as a\nmeans of settling differences is not a bit more intellectually\nrespectable than was the ancient duello we shall not be far removed from\nseeing the end of one of the greatest dangers to which modern society is\nexposed.\n\nExamples might be multiplied indefinitely, but enough has been said to\nshow what small reason there is for assuming that changes in\ninstitutions are brought about by the operation of some occult moral\nsense. It is the enlightenment of the moral sense by the growth of new\nideas, by the impact of new knowledge leading to a revaluation of things\nthat is mainly responsible for the change. The question of whether a man\nshould or should not be burned for a difference in religious belief was\nnever one that could be settled by weighing up the moral qualities of\nthe two parties in the dispute. All the moral judgment that has ever\nexisted, even if combined in the person of a single individual could\nnever decide that issue. It was entirely a question of acquiring a new\npoint of view from which to examine the subject. Until that was done the\nwhole force of the moral sense was on the side of the persecutor. To put\nthe matter paradoxically, the better the man the worse persecutor he\nbecame. It was mental enlightenment that was needed, not moral\nenthusiasm.\n\nThe question of progress thus becomes, in all directions, one of the\nimpact of new ideas, in an environment suitable to their reception and\ngrowth. A society shut in on itself is always comparatively\nunprogressive, and but for the movement of classes within it would be\ncompletely so. The more closely the history of civilization is studied\nthe more clearly does that fact emerge. Civilization is a synthetic\nmovement, and there can be no synthesis in the absence of dissolution\nand resolution.\n\nA fight of old ideas against new ones, a contest of clashing culture\nlevels, a struggle to get old things looked at from a new point of view,\nthese are the features that characterize all efforts after reform. It\nwas said by some of the eighteenth century philosophers that society was\nheld together by agreement in a bond. That is not quite correct. The\ntruth is that society is held together, as is any phase of social life,\nby a bond of agreement. The agreement is not of the conscious,\ndocumentary order, but it is there, and it consists in sharing a common\nlife created and maintained by having a common tradition, and a common\nstock of ideas and ideals. It is this that makes a man a member of one\nsocial group rather than of another--Chinese, American, French, German,\nor Choctaw. There is no discriminating feature in what is called the\neconomic needs of people. The economic needs of human beings--food,\nclothing, and shelter, are of the same order the world over. And\ncertainly the fact of a Chinaman sharing in the economic life of\nBritain, or an Englishman sharing in the economic life of China, would\nnot entitle either to be called genuine members of the group in which he\nhappened to be living. Membership only begins to be when those belonging\nto a group share in a common mental outfit. Even within a society, and\nin relation to certain social groups, one can see illustrations of the\nsame principle. A man is not really a member of a society of artists,\nlawyers, or doctors merely by payment of an annual subscription. He is\nthat only when he becomes a participant in the mental life of the\ngroup.[9] It is this common stock of mental facts which lies at the\nroot of all collective ideas--an army, a Church, or a nation. And ever\nthe fight is by way of attack and defence of the psychologic fact.[10]\n\n[9] This seems to me to give the real significance of Nationality. It\nhas been argued by some that nationality is a pure myth, as unreal as\nthe divinity of a king. The principal ground for this denial of\nnationality appears to be that so-called national characteristics are\nseen to undergo drastic transformation when their possessors are subject\nto a new set of influences. This may be quite true, but if nationality,\nin the sense of being a product of biological heredity, is ruled out, it\ndoes not follow that nationality is thereby destroyed. The fact may\nremain but it demands a different interpretation. And if what has been\nsaid above be true, it follows that nationality is not a personal fact,\nbut an extra or super-personal one. It belongs to the group rather than\nto the individual, and is created by the possession of a common speech,\na common literature, and a common group life. And quite naturally, when\nthe individual is lifted out of this special social influence its power\nmay well be weakened, and in the case of his children may be\nnon-existent, or replaced by the special characteristics of the new\ngroup into which he is born. The discussion of nationality ought not,\ntherefore, to move along the lines of acceptance or rejection of the\nconception of nationality, but of how far specific national\ncharacteristics admit of modification under the pressure of new\nconditions.\n\n[10] It would take too long to elaborate, but it may be here noted that\nin the human group the impelling force is not so much needs as desires,\nand that fact raises the whole issue from the level of biology to that\nof psychology. So long as life is at a certain level man shares with the\nanimal the mere need for food. But at another level there arises not\nmerely the need for food, but a desire for certain kind of food, cooked\nin a particular manner, and served in a special style. And provided that\nwe do not by hunger reduce man to the level of the beast again, the\ndesire will be paramount and will determine whether food shall be eaten\nor not. So, again, with the fact of sex and marriage. At the animal\nlevel we have the crude fact of sex, and this is, indeed, inescapable at\nany stage. But the growth of civilization brings about the fact that the\nneed for the gratification of the sexual appetite is regulated by the\nsecondary qualities of grace of form, or of disposition, which are the\nimmediate determinants of whether a particular man shall marry a\nparticular woman or not. Again, it is the _desire_ for power and\ndistinction, not the _need_ for money that impels men to spend their\nlives in building up huge fortunes. And, finally, we have the fact that\na great many of our present needs are transformed desires. The working\nman of to-day counts as needs, as do we all more or less, a number of\nthings that began as pure desires. We say we need books, pictures,\nmusic, etc. But none of these things can be really brought under the\ncategory of things necessary to life. They are the creation of man's\nmental cravings. Without them we say life would not be worth living, and\nit is well that we should all feel so. Professor Marshall rightly dwells\nupon this point by saying: \"Although it is man's wants in the early\nstages of development that give rise to his activities, yet afterwards\neach new step is to be regarded as the development of new activities\ngiving rise to new wants, rather than of new wants giving rise to new\nactivities.\"--(_Principles of Economics_, Vol. I., p. 164.)\n\nTo do the Churches and other vested interests justice, they have never\nlost sight of this truth, and it would have been better for the race\nhad others been equally alive to its importance. The Churches have never\nceased to fight for the control of those public organs that make for the\nformation of opinion. Their struggle to control the press, the platform,\nand the school means just this. Whatever they may have taught,\nself-interest forced upon them recognition of the truth that it was what\nmen thought about things that mattered. They have always opposed the\nintroduction of new ideas, and have fought for the retention of old\nones. It was a necessity of their existence. It was also an admission of\nthe truth that in order for reform to become a fact the power of\ntraditional ideas must be broken. Man is what he thinks, is far nearer\nthe truth than the once famous saying, \"Man is what he eats.\" As a\nmember of a social group man is dominated by his ideas of things, and\nany movement of reform must take cognisance of that fact if it is to\ncherish reasonable hopes of success.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nWHAT IS FREETHOUGHT?\n\n\nFreedom of thought and freedom of speech stand to each other as the two\nhalves of a pair of scissors. Without freedom of speech freedom of\nthought is robbed of the better part of its utility, even if its\nexistence is not threatened. The one reacts on the other. As thought\nprovides the material for speech, so, in turn, it deteriorates when it\nis denied expression. Speech is, in fact, one of the great factors in\nhuman progress. It is that which enables one generation to hand on to\nanother the discoveries made, the inventions produced, the thoughts\nachieved, and so gives a degree of fixity to the progress attained. For\nprogress, while expressed through the individual, is achieved by the\nrace. Individually, the man of to-day is not strikingly superior in form\nor capacity to the man of five or ten thousand years ago. But he knows\nmore, can achieve more, and is in that sense stronger than was his\nancestors. He is the heir of the ages, not as a figure of speech, but as\nthe most sober of facts. He inherits what previous generations have\nacquired; the schoolboy of to-day starts with a capital of inherited\nknowledge that would have been an outfit for a philosopher a few\nthousand years ago.\n\nIt is this that makes speech of so great importance to the fact of\nprogress. Without speech, written or verbal, it would be impossible to\nconserve the products of human achievement. Each generation would have\nto start where its predecessor commenced, and it would finish at about\nthe same point. It would be the fable of Sisyphus illustrated in the\npassing of each generation of human beings.\n\nBut speech implies communication. There is not very much pleasure in\nspeaking to oneself. Even the man who apologised for the practice on the\nground that he liked to address a sensible assembly would soon grow\ntired of so restricted an audience. The function of speech is to\ntransmit ideas, and it follows, therefore, that every embargo on the\nfree exchange of ideas, every obstacle to complete freedom of speech, is\na direct threat to the well-being of civilisation. As Milton could say\nthat a good book \"is the precious life-blood of a master spirit,\nembalmed and treasured up to a life beyond life,\" and that \"he who\ndestroys a good book kills reason itself,\" so we may say that he who\nstrikes at freedom of thought and speech is aiming a blow at the very\nheart of human betterment.\n\nIn theory, the truth of what has been said would be readily admitted,\nbut in practice it has met, and still meets, with a vigorous opposition.\nGovernments have exhausted their powers to prevent freedom of\nintercourse between peoples, and every Church and chapel has used its\nbest endeavours to the same end. Even to-day, when all are ready to pay\nlip-homage to freedom of thought, the obstacles in the way of a genuine\nfreedom are still very great. Under the best possible conditions there\nwill probably always be some coercion of opinion, if only of that\nunconscious kind which society as a whole exerts upon its individual\nmembers. But to this we have to add the coercion that is consciously\nexerted to secure the formation of particular opinions, and which has\nthe dual effect of inducing dissimulation in some and impotency in\nothers. Quite ignorantly parents commence the work when they force upon\nchildren their own views of religion and inculcate an exaggerated\nrespect for authority. They create an initial bias that is in only too\nmany cases fatal to real independence of thought. Social pressure\ncontinues what a mistaken early training has commenced. When opinions\nare made the test of \"good form,\" and one's social standing partly\ndetermined by the kind of opinions that one holds, there is developed on\nthe one side hypocrisy, and on the other, because certain opinions are\nbanned, thought in general is unhealthily freed from the sobering\ninfluence of enlightened criticism.[11]\n\n[11] It is a curious thing, as Philip Gilbert Hamerton points out in one\nof his essays, that in England religious freedom appears to exist in\ninverse proportion to rank. The king has no freedom whatever in a choice\nof religion. His religion is part of the position. An English nobleman,\nspeaking generally, has two religions from which to choose. He may be\neither a member of the established Church or of the Roman Catholic. In\nthe middle classes there is the choice of all sorts of religious sects,\nso long as they are Christian. Religious dissent is permitted so long as\nit does not travel beyond the limits of the chapel. And when we come to\nthe better class working man, he has the greatest freedom of all. His\nsocial position does not depend upon his belonging to this or that\nChurch, and he may, to borrow a phrase from Heine, go to hell in his own\nfashion.\n\nTo-day the legal prohibition of religious dissent is practically\nineffective, and is certainly far less demoralizing than the pressure\nthat is exerted socially and unofficially. In all probability this has\nalways been the case. For legal persecution must be open. Part of its\npurpose is publicity, and that in itself is apt to rouse hostility.\nAgainst open, legal persecution a man will make a stand, or if he gives\nway to the force arrayed against him may do so with no feeling of\npersonal degradation. But the conformity that is secured by a threat of\nsocial boycott, the freedom of speech that is prevented by choking the\navenues of intellectual intercourse, is far more deadly in its\nconsequences, and far more demoralizing in its influence on character.\nTo give way, as thousands do, not to the open application of force,\nwhich carries no greater personal reflection than does the soldier's\nsurrender to superior numbers, but to the dread of financial loss, to\nthe fear of losing a social status, that one may inwardly despise even\nwhile in the act of securing it, or from fear of offending those whom we\nmay feel are not worthy of our respect, these are the things that cannot\nbe done without eating into one's sense of self-respect, and inflicting\nupon one's character an irreparable injury.\n\nOn this matter more will be said later. For the present I am concerned\nwith the sense in which we are using the word \"Freethought.\"\nFortunately, little time need be wasted in discussing the once popular\nretort to the Freethinker that if the principle of determinism be\naccepted \"free\" thought is impossible. It is surprising that such an\nargument should ever have secured a vogue, and is only now interesting\nas an indication of the mentality of the defender of orthodox religion.\nCertainly no one who properly understands the meaning of the word would\nuse such an argument. At best it is taking a word from sociology, a\nsphere in which the meaning is quite clear and intelligible, and\napplying it in the region of physical science where it has not, and is\nnot intended to have, any meaning at all. In physical science a thing is\nwhat it does, and the business of science is to note the doings of\nforces and masses, their actions and reactions, and express them in\nterms of natural \"law.\" From the point of view of physical science a\nthing is neither free nor unfree, and to discuss natural happenings in\nterms of freedom or bondage is equal to discussing smell in terms of\nsight or colour in terms of smell. But applied in a legitimate way the\nword \"free\" is not only justifiable, it is indispensible. The confusion\narises when we take a word from a department in which its meaning is\nquite clear and apply it in a region where it has no application\nwhatever.\n\nApplied to opinion \"Free\" has the same origin and the same application\nas the expressions \"a free man,\" or a \"free State,\" or \"a free people.\"\nTaking either of these expressions it is plain that they could have\noriginated only in a state of affairs where some people are \"free,\" and\nsome are living in a state of bondage or restraint. There is no need to\ntrace the history of this since so much is implied in the word itself. A\nfree State is one in which those belonging to it determine their own\nlaws without being coerced by an outside power. A free man is one who is\npermitted to act as his own nature prompts. The word \"free\" implies\nnothing as to the nature of moral or mental causation, that is a\nquestion of a wholly different order. The free man exists over against\nthe one who is not free, the free State over against one that is held in\nsome degree of subjection to another State. There is no other meaning to\nthe word, and that meaning is quite clear and definite.\n\nNow Freethought has a precisely similar significance. It says nothing as\nto the nature of thought, the origin of thought, or the laws of thought.\nWith none of these questions is it vitally concerned. It simply asserts\nthat there are conditions under which thought is not \"free,\" that is,\nwhere it is coerced to a foregone conclusion, and that these conditions\nare fatal to thought in its higher and more valuable aspects.\nFreethought is that form of thinking that proceeds along lines of its\nown determining, rather than along lines that are laid down by\nauthority. In actual practice it is immediately concerned with the\nexpression of opinion rather than with its formation, since no authority\ncan prevent the formation of opinion in any mind that is at all\nindependent in its movements and forms opinions on the basis of observed\nfacts and adequate reasoning. But its chief and primary significance\nlies in its repudiation of the right of authority to say what form the\nexpression of opinion shall take. And it is also clear that such a term\nas \"Freethought\" could only have come into general use and prominence in\na society in which the free circulation of opinion was more or less\nimpeded.\n\nIt thus becomes specially significant that, merely as a matter of\nhistory, the first active manifestation of Freethought should have\noccurred in connection with a revolt against religious teaching and\nauthority. This was no accident, but was rather a case of necessity.\nFor, in the first place, there is no other subject in which pure\nauthority plays so large a part as it does in religion. All churches and\nall priesthoods, ancient and modern, fall back upon the principle of\npure authority as a final method of enforcing their hold upon the\npeople. That, it may be noted in passing, is one of the chief reasons\nwhy in all ages governments have found religion one of the most\nserviceable agencies in maintaining their sway. Secondly, there seems to\nhave been from the very earliest times a radically different frame of\nmind in the approach to secular and religious matters. So far as one can\nsee there appears to be, even in primitive societies, no very strong\nopposition to the free discussion of matters that are of a purely\nsecular nature. Questions of ways and means concerning these are freely\ndebated among savage tribes, and in all discussion differences of\nopinion must be taken for granted. It is when we approach religious\nsubjects that a difference is seen. Here the main concern is to\ndetermine the will of the gods, and all reasoning is thus out of place,\nif not a positive danger. The only thing is to discover \"God's will,\"\nand when we have his, or his will given in \"sacred\" books the embargo on\nfree thinking is complete. This feature continues to the end. We do not\neven to-day discuss religious matters in the same open spirit in which\nsecular matters are debated. There is a bated breath, a timidity of\ncriticism in discussing religious subjects that does not appear when we\nare discussing secular topics. With the thoroughly religious man it is\nsolely a question of what God wishes him to do. In religion this affords\nthe only latitude for discussion, and even that disappears largely when\nthe will of God is placed before the people in the shape of \"revealed\"\nwritings. Fortunately for the world \"inspired\" writings have never been\nso clearly penned as to leave no room for doubt as to what they actually\nmeant. Clarity of meaning has never been one of the qualities of divine\nauthorship.\n\nIn this connection it is significant that the first form of democratic\ngovernment of which we have any clear record should have been in\nfreethinking, sceptical Greece. Equally notable is it that in both Rome\nand Greece the measure of mental toleration was greater than it has ever\nbeen in other countries before or since. In Rome to the very end of the\nPagan domination there existed no legislation against opinions, as such.\nThe holders of certain opinions might find themselves in uncomfortable\npositions now and then, but action against them had to rest on some\nground other than that which was afterwards known as heresy. There\nexisted no law in the Roman Empire against freedom of opinion, and those\nwho are familiar with Mr. H. C. Lea's classic, _History of the\nInquisition_, will recall his account of the various tactics adopted by\nthe Christian Church to introduce measures that would accustom the\npublic mind to legislation which should establish the principle of\npersecution for opinion.[12] In the end the Church succeeded in\neffecting this, and its success was registered in the almost\nunbelievable degradation of the human intellect which was exhibited in\nthe Christian world for centuries. So complete was this demoralization\nthat more than a thousand years later we find men announcing as a most\ndaring principle a demand for freedom of discussion which in old Greece\nand Rome was never officially questioned. Christianity not merely killed\nfreedom wherever it established itself, but it came very near killing\neven the memory of it.\n\n[12] See specially Vol. I., chapters 6, 7, and 8. One is sorely tempted\nto engage in what would be a rather lengthy aside on the mental freedom\nenjoyed by the people of ancient Greece, but considerations of cogency\nadvise a shorter comment in this form. In the first place we have to\nnote that neither the Greeks nor the Romans possessed anything in the\nshape of \"sacred\" books. That, as the history of Mohammedanism and\nChristianity shows, is one of the most disastrous things that can happen\nto any people. But apart from this there were several circumstances\nconnected with the development of the Greek peoples that made for\nfreedom of opinion. There was no uniform theology to commence with, and\nthe configuration of the country, while enough to maintain local\nindependence, was not enough to prevent a certain amount of intercourse.\nAnd it would certainly seem that no people were ever so devoid of\nintolerance as were the ancient Greeks. It is true that the history of\nGreece was not without its examples of intolerance, but these were\ncomparatively few, and, as Professor Bury says, persecution was never\norganized. The gods were criticized in both speeches and plays. Theories\nof Materialism and Atheism were openly taught and were made the topic of\npublic discussion. There was, indeed, a passion for the discussion of\nall sorts of subjects, and to discussion nothing is sacred. The best\nthought of Rome owed its impetus to Greece, and at a later date it was\nthe recovered thought of Greece which gave the impetus to Mohammedan\nSpain in its cultivation of science and philosophy, and so led to the\npartial recovery of Europe from the disastrous control of the Christian\nChurch. Nor need it be assumed that the work of Greece was due to the\npossession of a superior brain power. Of that there is not the slightest\nvestige of proof. It is simply that the ancient Greek lived in a freer\nmental atmosphere. The mind had less to hamper it in its operations; it\nhad no organized and powerful Church that from the cradle to the grave\npursued its work of preventing free criticism and the play of\nenlightened opinion. For several centuries the world has been seeking to\nrecover some of its lost liberties with only a very moderate success.\nBut if one thinks of what the Greeks were, and if one adds to what they\nhad achieved a possible two thousand years of development, he will then\nhave some notion of what the triumph of the Christian Church meant to\nthe world.\n\nIt was, therefore, inevitable that in the western world Freethought\nshould come into prominence in relation to the Christian religion and\nits claims. In the Christian Church there existed an organization which\nnot alone worked with the avowed intention of determining what men\nshould think, but finally proceeded to what was, perhaps, the logical\nconclusion, to say what they should not think. No greater tyranny than\nthe Christian Church has ever existed. And this applies, not to the\nRoman Church alone, but to every Church within the limit of its\nopportunities. In the name and in the interests of religion the\nChristian Church took some of the worst passions of men and consecrated\nthem. The killing of heretics became one of the most solemn duties and\nit was urged upon secular rulers as such. The greatest instrument of\noppression ever formed, the Inquisition, was fashioned for no other\npurpose than to root out opinions that were obnoxious to the Church. It\nwould have been bad enough had the attempts of the Church to control\nopinion been limited to religion. But that was not the case. It aimed at\ntaking under its control all sorts of teaching on all sorts of\nsubjects. Nothing would have surprised an inhabitant of ancient Rome\nmore, could he have revisited the earth some dozen centuries after the\nestablishment of Christianity, than to have found men being punished for\ncriticising doctrines that were in his day openly laughed at. And\nnothing could have given an ancient Athenian greater cause for wonder\nthan to have found men being imprisoned and burned for teaching cosmical\ntheories that were being debated in the schools of Athens two thousand\nyears before. Well might they have wondered what had happened to the\nworld, and well might they have come to the conclusion that it had been\novertaken by an attack of universal insanity. And the explanation would\nnot have been so very wide of the truth.\n\nIn this matter of suppression of freedom of thinking there was little to\nchoose between the Churches. Each aimed at controlling the thought of\nmankind, each was equally intolerant of any variation from the set line,\nand each employed the same weapon of coercion so far as circumstances\npermitted. At most the Protestant Churches substituted a dead book for a\nliving Church, and in the end it may be questioned, when all allowance\nis made for the changed circumstances in which Protestantism operated,\nwhether the rule of the new Church was not more disastrous than the\nolder one. It had certainly less excuse for its intolerance. The Roman\nCatholic Church might urge that it never claimed to stand for freedom of\nopinion, and whatever its sins it was so far free from the offence of\nhypocrisy. But the Protestant Churches could set up no such plea; they\nprofessed to stand on freedom of conscience. And they thus added the\nquality of inconsistency and hypocrisy to an offence that was already\ngrave enough in itself.\n\nBut whatever opinion one may have on that point, it is certain that in\npractice the Protestant leaders were as opposed to freedom of thought as\nwere the Roman Catholics. And Protestant bigotry left a mark on European\nhistory that deserves special recognition. For the first time it made\nthe profession of Christianity a definite part of the law of the secular\nState.[13] Hitherto there had been no law in any of the European States\nwhich made a profession of Christianity necessary. There had been plenty\nof persecutions of non-Christians, and the consequences of a rejection\nof Christianity, if one lived in a Christian State, were serious enough.\nBut when the secular State punished the heretic it was a manifestation\nof good will towards the Church and not the expression of a legal\nenactment. It was the direct influence of the Church on the State.\nChurch and State were legally distinct during the mediaeval period,\nhowever closely they may have been allied in practice. With the arrival\nof Protestantism and the backing of the reformed religion given by\ncertain of the Princes, the machinery of intolerance, so to speak, was\ntaken over by the State and became one of its functions. It became as\nmuch the duty of the secular officials to extirpate heresy, to secure\nuniformity of religious belief as it was to the interest of the Church\nto see that it was destroyed. Up to that time it was the aim of the\nChurch to make the State one of its departments. It had never legally\nsucceeded in doing this, but it was not for the Roman Church to sink to\nthe subordinate position of becoming a department of the State. It was\nleft for Protestantism to make the Church a branch of the State and to\ngive religious bigotry the full sanction of secular law.\n\n[13] See on this point Heeren's _Historical Treatises_, 1836, pp.\n61-70.\n\nNeither with Catholic nor Protestant could there be, therefore, any\nrelaxation in the opposition offered to independent thinking. That still\nremained the cardinal offence to the religious mind. In the name of\nreligion Protestants opposed the physics of Newton as bitterly as\nCatholics opposed the physics of Galileo. The geology of Hutton and\nLyell, the chemistry of Boyle and Dalton, the biology of Von Baer,\nLamarck and Darwin, with almost any other branch of science that one\ncares to select, tell the same tale. And when the desire for reform took\na social turn there was the same influence to be fought. For while the\nRoman Catholic laid the chief insistence on obedience to the Church, the\nProtestant laid as strong insistence on obedience to the State, and made\ndisobedience to its orders a matter of almost religious revolt. The\nwhole force of religion was thus used to induce contentment with the\nexisting order, instead of to the creation of an intelligent discontent\nwhich would lead to continuous improvement. In view of these\ncircumstances it is not surprising that the word \"Freethought\" should\nhave lost in actual use its more general significance of a denial of the\nplace of mere authority in matters of opinion, and have acquired a more\ndefinite and precise connotation. It could not, of course, lose its\ngeneral meaning, but it gained a special application and became properly\nassociated with a definitely anti-theological attitude. The growth in\nthis direction was gradual but inevitable. When the term first came into\ngeneral use, about the end of the seventeenth century, it was mainly\nused with reference to those deists who were then attacking\nChristianity. In that sense it continued to be used for some time. But\nas Deism lost ground, thanks partly to the Christian attack, the clear\nand logical issue between Theism and Atheism became apparent, with the\nresult that the definite anti-religious character of \"Freethought\"\nbecame firmly established. And to-day it is mere affectation or timidity\nto pretend that the word has any other vital significance. To say that a\nman is a Freethinker is to give, to ninety-nine people out of a hundred,\nthe impression that he is anti-religious. And in this direction the\npopular sense of the word discloses what has been its important historic\nfunction. Historically, the chief stronghold of mere authority has been\nreligion. In science and in sociology, as well as in connection with\nsupernaturalism proper, every movement in the direction of the free\nexercise of the intellect has met with the unceasing opposition of\nreligion. That has always been at once the symbol and the instrument of\noppression. To attack religion has been to attack the enemy in his\ncapital. All else has been matter of outpost skirmishing.\n\nI have apparently gone a long way round to get at the meaning of the\nword \"Freethought,\" but it was necessary. For it is of very little use,\nin the case of an important word that has stood and stands for the name\nof a movement, to go to a dictionary, or to appeal to etymology. The\nlatter has often a mere antiquarian interest, and the former merely\nregisters current meanings, it does not make them. The use of a word\nmust ultimately be determined by the ideas it conveys to those who hear\nit. And from what has been said the meaning of this particular word\nshould be fairly clear. While standing historically for a reasoned\nprotest against the imposition of opinion by authority, and, negatively,\nagainst such artificial conditions as prevent the free circulation of\nopinion, it to-day stands actually for a definitely anti-religious\nmental attitude. And this is what one would naturally expect. Protests,\nafter all, are protests against something in the concrete, even though\nthey may embody the affirmation of an abstract principle. And nowadays\nthe principle of pure authority has so few defenders that it would be\nsheer waste of time, unless the protest embodied a definite attitude\nwith regard to specific questions. We may, then, put it that to us\n\"Freethought\" stands for a reasoned and definite opposition to all forms\nof supernaturalism, it claims the right to subject all religious beliefs\nto the test of reason, and further claims that when so tested they break\ndown hopelessly. It is from this point of view that these pages are\nwritten, and the warranty for so defining it should be apparent from\nwhat has been said in this and the preceding chapter.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nREBELLION AND REFORM.\n\n\nRebellion and reform are not exactly twins, but they are very closely\nrelated. For while all rebellion is not reform, yet in the widest sense\nof the word, there is no reform without rebellion. To fight for reform\nis to rebel against the existing order and is part of the eternal and\nfundamentally healthful struggle of the new against the old, and of the\nliving present against the dead past. The rebel is thus at once a public\ndanger and a benefactor. He threatens the existing order, but it is in\nthe name of a larger and better social life. And because of this it is\nhis usual lot to be crucified when living and deified when dead. So it\nhas always been, so in its main features will it always be. If\ncontemporaries were to recognize the reformer as such, they would\ndestroy his essential function by making it useless. Improvement would\nbecome an automatic process that would perfect itself without\nopposition. As it is, the function of the rebel is to act as an\nexplosive force, and no society of average human beings likes\nexplosions. They are noisy, and they are dangerous. For the reformer to\ncomplain at not being hailed as a deliverer is for him to mistake his\npart and place in social evolution.\n\nThe rebel and the reformer is, again, always in minority. That follows\nfrom what has already been said. It follows, too, from what we know of\ndevelopment in general. Darwinism rests on the supreme importance of the\nminority. It is an odd variation here and there that acts as the\nstarting point for a new species--and it has against it the swamping\ninfluence of the rest of its kind that treads the old biological line.\nNature's choicest variations are of necessity with the few, and when\nthat variation has established itself and become normal another has to\nappear before a new start can be made.\n\nWhether we take biology or psychology the same condition appears. A new\nidea occurs to an individual and it is as strictly a variation from the\nnormal as anything that occurs in the animal world. The idea may form\nthe starting point of a new theory, or perhaps of a new social order.\nBut to establish itself, to become the characteristic property of the\ngroup, it must run the gamut of persecution and the risk of suppression.\nAnd suppressed it often is--for a time. It is an idle maxim which\nteaches that truth always conquers, if by that is implied that it does\nso at once. That is not the truth. Lies have been victorious over and\nover again. The Roman Catholic Church, one of the greatest lies in the\nhistory of the human race, stood the conqueror for many centuries. The\nteaching of the rotundity of the earth and its revolution round the sun\nwas suppressed for hundreds of years until it was revived in the 16th\ncentury. In the long run truth does emerge, but a lie may have a\nterribly lengthy innings. For the lie is accepted by the many, while the\ntruth is seen only by the few. But it is the few to whom we turn when we\nlook over the names of those who have made the world what is it. All the\nbenefits to society come from the few, and society crucifies them to\nshow its gratitude. One may put it that society lives on the usual, but\nflourishes on account of the exception.\n\nNow there is something extremely significant in the Christian religion\ntracing all the disasters of mankind to a primal act of disobedience. It\nis a fact which discloses in a flash the chief social function of\nreligion in general and of Christianity in particular. Man's duty is\nsummed up in the one word obedience, and the function of the\n(religiously) good man is to obey the commands of God, as that of the\ngood citizen is to obey the commands of government. The two commands\nmeet and supplement each other with the mutual advantage which results\nfrom the adjustment of the upper and lower jaws of a hyena. And it\nexplains why the powers that be have always favoured the claims of\nreligion. It enabled them to rally to their aid the tremendous and\nstupefying aid of religion and to place rebellion to their orders on the\nsame level as rebellion against God. In Christian theology Satan is the\narch-rebel; hell is full of rebellious angels and disobedient men and\nwomen. Heaven is reserved for the timid, the tame, the obedient, the\nsheep-like. When the Christ of the Gospels divides the people into goats\nand sheep, it is the former that go to hell, and the latter to heaven.\nThe Church has not a rebel in its calendar, although it has not a few\nrogues and many fools. To the Church rebellion is always a sin, save on\nthose rare occasions when revolt is ordered in the interests of the\nChurch itself. In Greek mythology Prometheus steals fire from heaven for\nthe benefit of man and suffers in consequence. The myth symbolizes the\nfact. Always the man has had to win knowledge and happiness in the teeth\nof opposition from the gods. Always the race has owed its progress to\nthe daring of the rebel or of the rebellious few.\n\nOften the Freethinker is denounced because he is destructive or\ndangerous. What other is he expected to be? And would he be of much use\nif he were otherwise?? I would go further and say that he is the most\ndestructive of all agencies because he is so intimately concerned with\nthe handling of the most destructive of weapons--ideas. We waste a good\ndeal of time in denouncing certain people as dangerous when they are in\nreality comparatively harmless. A man throws a bomb, or breaks into a\nhouse, or robs one of a purse, and a judge solemnly denounces him as a\nmost \"dangerous member of society.\" It is all wrong. These are\ncomparatively harmless individuals. One man throws a bomb, kills a few\npeople, damages some property, and there the matter ends. Another man\ncomes along and drops instead of a bomb a few ideas, and the whole\ncountry is in a state of eruption. Charles Peace pursues a career of\npiety and crime, gets himself comfortably and religiously hanged, and\nsociety congratulates itself on having got rid of a dangerous person,\nand then forgets all about it. Karl Marx visits England, prowls round\nLondon studying the life of rich and poor, and drops _Das Kapital_ on\nus. A quiet and outwardly inoffensive individual, one who never gave the\npolice a moment's anxiety, spends years studying earthworms, and\nflowers, and horses and cats, and all sorts of moving things and\npresents society with _The Origin of Species_. Organized society found\nitself able to easily guard itself against the attacks of men such as\nCharles Peace, it may with impunity extend its hospitality to the\nthrower of bombs, or robber of houses, but by what means can it protect\nitself against the \"peaceful\" Marx or the \"harmless\" Darwin? No society\ncan afford to ignore in its midst a score of original or independent\nthinkers, or if society does ignore them they will not for long ignore\nsociety. The thinker is really destructive. He destroys because he\ncreates; he creates because he destroys. The one is the obverse of the\nother.\n\nI am not making idle play with the word \"destruction.\" It is literally\ntrue that in human society the most destructive and the most coercive\nforces at work are ideas. They strike at established institutions and\ndemand either their modification or their removal. That is why the\nemergence of a new idea is always an event of social significance.\nWhether it be a good idea or a bad one will not affect the truth of this\nstatement. For over four years our political mediocrities and muddle\nheaded militarists were acting as though the real problem before them\nwas to establish the superiority of one armed group of men over another\ngroup. That was really a simple matter. The important issue which\nsociety had to face was the ideas that the shock of the war must give\nrise to. Thinkers saw this; but thinkers do not get the public ear\neither as politicians or militarists. And now events are driving home\nthe lesson. The ideas of Bolshevism and Sinn Feinism proved far more\n\"dangerous\" than the German armies. The Allied forces could handle the\none, but they were powerless before the other. It is not a question of\nwhether these particular ideas are good or bad, or whether we approve or\ndisapprove of them, but entirely one that, being ideas, they represent a\nfar more \"destructive\" power than either bomb or gun. They are at once\nthe forces that act as the cement of society and those that may hurl it\ninto chaotic fragments.\n\nWhether an idea will survive or not must, in the end, be determined by\ncircumstances, but in itself a new idea may be taken as the mental\nanalogue of the variation which takes place in physical structures, and\nwhich forms the raw material of natural selection. And if that is so, it\nis evident that any attempt to prevent the play of new ideas on old\ninstitutions is striking at the very fact of progress. For if we are to\nencourage variation we must permit it in all directions, up as well as\ndown, for evil as well as for good. You cannot check variation in one\ndirection without checking it in all. You cannot prevent the appearance\nof a new idea that you do not want without threatening the appearance of\na number of ideas that you would eagerly welcome. It is, therefore,\nalways better to encourage the appearance of a bad idea than it is to\nrisk the suppression of a good one. Besides, it is not always that force\napplied to the suppression of ideas succeeds in its object. What it\noften does is to cause the persecuted idea to assume a more violent\nform, to ensure a more abrupt break with the past than would otherwise\noccur, with the risk of a period of reaction before orderly progress is\nresumed. The only way to silence an idea is to answer it. You cannot\nreply to a belief with bullets, or bayonet a theory into silence.\nHistory contains many lessons, but none that is plainer than this one,\nand none that religious and secular tyrannies learn with greater\nreluctance.\n\nThe Churches admit by their practice the truth of what has been said.\nThey have always understood that the right way to keep society in a\nstationary position is to prevent the introduction of new ideas. It is\nthought against which they have warred, the thinker against whom they\nhave directed their deadliest weapons. The Christian Church has been\ntolerant towards the criminal, and has always been intolerant towards\nthe heretic and the Freethinker. For the latter the naming _auto da fe_,\nfor the former the moderate penance and the \"go, and sin no more.\" The\nworst of its tortures were neither created for nor applied to the thief\nand the assassin, but were specially designed for the unbeliever. In\nthis the Church acted with a sure instinct. The thief threatens no\ninstitution, not even that of private property. \"Thou shalt not steal\"\nis as much the law of a thieves' kitchen as it is of Mayfair. But\nCopernicus, Galileo, Newton, Lyell, Darwin, these are the men who\nconvey a threat in all they write, who destroy and create with a\nsplendour that smacks of the power with which Christians have endowed\ntheir mythical deity. No aggregation of criminals has ever threatened\nthe security of the Church, or even disturbed its serenity. On the\ncontrary, the worse, morally, the time, the greater the influence of\nChristianity. It flourishes on human weakness and social vice as the\nbacilli of tuberculosis do in darkness and dirt. It is when weakness\ngives place to strength, and darkness to light that the Church finds its\npower weakening. The Church could forgive the men who instituted the\nblack slave trade, she could forgive those who were responsible for the\nhorrors of the English factory system, but she could never forgive the\nwriter of the _Age of Reason_. She has always known how to distinguish\nher friends from her foes.\n\nRight or wrong, then, the heretic, the Freethinker, represents a figure\nof considerable social significance. His social value does not lie\nwholly in the fact of his opinions being sound or his judgment\nimpeccable. Mere revolt or heresy can never carry that assurance with\nit. The important thing about the rebel is that he represents a spirit,\na temper, in the absence of which society would stagnate. It is bad when\npeople revolt without cause, but it is infinitely better that a people\nshould revolt without cause than that they should have cause for\nrebellion without possessing the courage of a kick. That man should have\nthe courage to revolt against the thing which he believes to be wrong is\nof infinitely greater consequence than that he should be right in\ncondemning the thing against which he revolts. Whether the rebel is\nright or wrong time and consequence alone can tell, but nothing can make\ngood the evil of a community reduced to sheep-like acquiescence in\nwhatever may be imposed upon them. The \"Their's not to reason why\"\nattitude, however admirable in an army, is intolerable and dangerous in\nsocial life. Replying to those who shrieked about the \"horrors\" of the\nFrench Revolution, and who preached the virtue of patriotic obedience to\nestablished authority, Carlyle, with an eye on Ireland, sarcastically\nadmitted that the \"horrors\" were very bad indeed, but he added:--\n\n     What if history somewhere on this planet were to hear of a nation,\n     the third soul of whom had not for thirty weeks of each year as\n     many third-rate potatoes as would sustain him? History in that\n     case, feels bound to consider that starvation is starvation; that\n     starvation presupposes much; history ventures to assert that the\n     French Sansculotte of Nine-three, who roused from a long death\n     sleep, could rush at once to the frontiers and die fighting for an\n     immortal hope and faith of deliverance for him and his, was but the\n     second miserablest of men.\n\nAnd that same history, looking back through the ages, is bound to\nconfess that it is to the great rebels, from Satan onward, that the\nworld mainly owes whatever of greatness or happiness it has achieved.\n\nOne other quality of the rebel remains to be noted. In his revolt\nagainst established authority, in his determination to wreck cherished\ninstitutions for the realization of an ideal, the rebel is not the\nrepresentative of an anti-social idea or of an anti-social force. He is\nthe true representative of the strongest of social influences. The very\nrevolt against the social institutions that exist is in the name and for\nthe realization of a larger and a better social order that he hopes to\ncreate. A man who is ready to sacrifice his life in the pursuit of an\nideal cannot, whatever else he may be accused of, be reasonably accused\nof selfishness or of a want of \"social consciousness.\" He is a vital\nexpression of the centuries of social life which have gone before and\nwhich have made us all what we are. Were his social sense weaker he\nwould risk less. Were he selfish he would not trouble about the\nconversion of his fellows. The spirit of revolt represents an important\nfactor in the process of social development, and they who are most\nstrenuous in their denunciation of social control, are often, even\nthough unconsciously, the strongest evidence of its overpowering\ninfluence.\n\nFed as we are with the mental food prepared by our Churches and\ngovernments, to whose interests it is that the rebel and the Freethinker\nshould be decried and denounced, we are all too apt to overlook the\nsignificance of the rebel. Yet he is invariably the one who voices what\nthe many are afraid or unable to express. The masses suffer dumbly, and\nthe persistence of their suffering breeds a sense of its inevitability.\nIt is only when these dumb masses find a voice that they threaten the\nestablished order, and for this the man of ideas is essential. That is\nwhy all vested interests, religious and social, hate him so heartily.\nThey recognize that of all the forces with which they deal an idea is\nthe greatest and the most untamable. Once in being it is the most\ndifficult to suppress. It is more explosive than dynamite and more\nshattering in its effects. Physical force may destroy a monarch, but it\nis only the force of an idea that can destroy a monarchy. You may\ndestroy a church with cannon, but cannon are powerless against Church\ndoctrines. An idea comes as near realizing the quality of\nindestructibility as anything we know. You may quiet anything in the\nworld with greater ease than you may reduce a strong thinker to silence,\nor subdue anything with greater facility than you may subdue the idea\nthat is born of strenuous thought. Fire may be extinguished and strife\nmade to cease, ambition may be killed and the lust for power grow faint.\nThe one thing that defies all and that finally conquers is the truth\nwhich strong men see and for which brave men fight.\n\nIt is thus left for the philosophy of Freethought, comprehensive here as\nelsewhere, to find a place for the rebel and to recognize the part he\nplays in the evolution of the race. For rebellion roots itself\nultimately in the spirit of mental independence. And that whether a\nparticular act of revolt may be justifiable or not. It is bred of the\npast, but it looks forward hopefully and fearlessly to the future, and\nit sees in the present the material out of which that better future may\nbe carved. That the mass of people find in the rebel someone whom it is\nmoved to suppress is in no wise surprising. New things are not at first\nalways pleasant, even though they may be necessary. But the temper of\nmind from which rebellion springs is one that society can only suppress\nat its peril.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nTHE STRUGGLE FOR THE CHILD.\n\n\nIf the truth of what has been said above be admitted, it follows that\ncivilization has two fundamental aspects. On the one side there is the\nenvironment, made up--so far as civilized humanity is concerned--of the\nideas, the beliefs, the customs, and the stored up knowledge of\npreceding generations, and on the other side we have an organism which\nin virtue of its education responds to the environmental stimuli in a\ngiven manner. Between the man of to-day and the man of an earlier\ngeneration the vital distinction is not that the present day one is, as\nan organism, better, that he has keener sight, or stronger muscles, or a\nbrain of greater capacity, but that he has a truer perception of things,\nand in virtue of his enlarged knowledge is able to mould natural forces,\nincluding the impulses of his own nature, in a more desirable manner.\nAnd he can do this because, as I have already said, he inherits what\nprevious generations have acquired, and so reaps the benefits of what\nthey have done.\n\nWe may illustrate this in a very simple manner. One of the most striking\ndifferences between the man of to-day and the man of the past is the\nattitude of the two in relation to natural phenomena. To the people of\nnot so many generations ago an eclipse was a very serious thing, fraught\nwith the promise of disaster to mankind. The appearance of a comet was\nno less ominous. John Knox saw in comets an indication of the wrath of\nheaven, and in all countries the Churches fought with all their might\nagainst the growth of the scientific view. Away back in antiquity we\nmeet with the same view. There is, for example, the classic case of the\nGreek general Nikias, who, when about to extricate his army from a\ndangerous position before Syracuse, was told that an eclipse of the sun\nindicated that the gods wished him to stay where he was for three times\nnine days. Nikias obeyed the oracles with the result that his army was\ncaptured. Now it is certain that no general to-day would act in that\nmanner, and if he did it is equally certain that he would be\ncourt-martialled. Equally clear is it that comets and eclipses have\nceased to infect the modern mind with terror, and are now only objects\nof study to the learned, and of curiosity to the unlearned. But the\ndifference here is entirely one of knowledge. Our ancestors reacted to\nthe appearance of a comet or an eclipse in a particular manner because\ntheir knowledge of these things was of a certain kind. It was not at all\na case of feeling, or of degree of feeling, or of having a better brain,\nbut simply a matter of reacting to an environmental influence in terms\nof an understanding of certain things. Had we the same conception of\nthese things that our ancestors had we should react in the same manner.\nWe act differently because our understanding of things is different. We\nmay put it briefly that the kind of reaction which we make to the things\naround us is mainly determined by our knowledge concerning their nature.\n\nThere is one other fact that brings into prominence the importance of\nthe kind of reaction which we make to environmental stimuli. Put\nbriefly, we may say that an important distinction between the animal and\nman is that the animal passes its existence in a comparatively simple\nenvironment where the experiences are few in kind and often repeated,\nwhereas with man the environment is very complex, the experiences are\nvaried in character, and may be only repeated after long intervals. The\nconsequence is that in order to get through life an animal needs a few\nsimple instincts which automatically respond to frequently repeated\nexperiences, while on the other hand there must be with man opportunity\nfor the kind of response which goes under the name of intelligent\naction. It is this which gives us the reason, or the explanation, why of\nall animals the human being is born the most helpless, and why he\nremains helpless for a longer period than does any other. The prolonged\ninfancy is the opportunity given to the human being to acquire the\nbenefits of education and so to reap the full advantage of that social\nheritage which, as we have shown, raises him so far above the level of\npast generations. Or we may express the matter with the late Professor\nFiske, who was the first, I think, to dwell at length upon this\nphenomenon, that the distinction between man and the animal world is\nthat in the one case we have developed instincts with small capacity for\neducation, in the other few instincts with great capacity for education.\n\nIt is often said that the Churches have failed to pay attention to\neducation, or have not taken it seriously. That is quite wrong. It may,\nindeed, be said that they have never failed to attend to education, and\nhave always taken it seriously--with disastrous results to education and\nto social life. Ever since the birth of the modern movement for\neducation the Church has fought hard to maintain its control of schools,\nand there is every reason why this should be so. Survival in the animal\nworld may be secured in two ways. On the one side we may have a\ncontinuance of a special sort of environment to which a given structure\nis properly adapted; on the other there may be a modification of the\nanimal to meet the demands of a changing environment.\n\nApplying this principle to the question of the Churches and education\nthe moral is clear. The human environment changes more than that of any\nother animal. The mere amassing of experience and its expression in the\nform of new institutions or in the modification of already existing\nones, is enough to effect a change in the environment of successive\ngenerations. The Christian Church, or for the matter of that, any form\nof religion, has before it two possible courses. Either it must maintain\nan environment that is as little as possible unchanged, or it must\nmodify its body of teaching to meet the changed surroundings. As a mere\nmatter of fact both processes go on side by side, but consciously the\nChurches have usually followed the course of trying to maintain an\nunchanged environment. This is the real significance of the attempt of\nthe more orthodox to boycott new, or heretical literature, or lectures,\nor to produce a \"religious atmosphere\" round the child. It is an attempt\nto create an environment to which the child's mind will respond in a\nmanner that is favourable to the claims and teachings of the Christian\nChurch. The Church dare not openly and plainly throw overboard its body\nof doctrines to meet the needs of the modern mind; and the only thing\nremaining is to keep the modern mind as backward as possible in order\nthat it may rest content with a teaching that is reminiscent of a past\nstage of civilization.\n\nIn this connection it is interesting to note that the struggle for the\nchild is essentially a modern phrase. So long as the teaching of\nreligion is in, at least, a working harmony with current knowledge and\nthe general body of the social forces the question of religious\ninstruction does not emerge. Life itself--social life that is--to a very\nconsiderable extent enforces religious teaching. At all events it does\nnot violently contradict it. But as, owing to the accumulation of\nknowledge, views of the world and of man develop that are not in harmony\nwith accepted religious teaching, the Churches are forced to attempt the\nmaintenance of an environment of a special religious kind to which their\nteaching is adapted. Hence the growing prominence of the division of\nsecular and sacred as things that have to do with religion and things\nthat have not. Hence, too, the importance to the Churches of acquiring\npower over the child's mind before it is brought completely under the\ninfluence of an environment in which orthodox teachings can only present\nthemselves as a gross anachronism.\n\nThus, one may say with absolute confidence that if in a modern\nenvironment a child was left free with regard to modern influences there\nis nothing that would lead to an acceptance of religion. Our ancestors\ngrew up familiar with the idea of the miraculous and the supernatural\ngenerally because there was nothing in the existing knowledge of the\nworld that contradicted it. But what part is there in the general\neducation of the child in modern society that would lead to that end? So\nfar as it is taught anything about the world it learns to regard it in\nterms of causation and of positive knowledge. It finds itself surrounded\nwith machinery, and inventions, and with a thousand and one mechanical\nand other inventions which do not in the very remotest degree suggest\nthe supernatural. In other words, the response of a modern child in a\nmodern environment is of a strictly non-religious kind. Left alone it\nwould no more become religious in the sense of believing in the\nreligious teachings of any of the Churches than it would pass through\nlife looking for miracles or accepting fairy tales as sober statements\nof historic fact. It would no more express itself in terms of religion\nthan it would describe an eclipse in the language of our ancestors of\nfive hundred years ago.\n\nIn self defence the Churches are thus bound to make a fight for the\npossession of the child. They cannot wait, because that means allowing\nthe child to grow to maturity and then dealing with it when it is able\nto examine religion with some regard to its historic evolution, and with\na due appreciation of the hopelessly unscientific character of the\nconception of the supernatural. They must, so far as they can, protect\nthe growing child from the influence of all those environmental forces\nthat make for the disintegration of religious beliefs. The only way in\nwhich the Churches can at all make sure of a supply of recruits is by\nimpressing them before they are old enough to resist. As the Germany of\nthe Kaiser is said to have militarized the nation by commencing with the\nschools, so the Churches hope to keep the nations religious by\ncommencing with the children. Apart from these considerations there is\nno reason why religion could not wait, as other subjects wait, till the\nchild is old enough to understand and appreciate it. But with the\nChurches it is literally the child or nothing.\n\nFrom the point of view of citizenship the retention of religion in State\nschools is a manifest injustice. If ever religious instruction could be\njustified in any circumstances it is when the religion taught represents\nat least the professed beliefs of the whole of the people. But that is\nclearly not the case to-day. Only a section of the people can be called,\neven formally, Christian. Large numbers are quite opposed to\nChristianity, and large numbers deliberately reject all religion. How,\nthen, can the State undertake the teaching of a religion without at the\nsame time rousing resentment in and inflicting an injustice on a large\nnumber of its members? It cannot be done, and the crowning absurdity is\nthat the State acknowledges the non-essential character of religion by\npermitting all who will to go without. In secular subjects it permits no\nsuch option. It says that all children shall receive certain tuition in\ncertain subjects for a given period. It makes instruction in these\nsubjects compulsory on the definite and intelligible ground that the\neducation given is necessary to the intelligent discharge of the duties\nof citizenship. It does not do that in the case of religion, and it dare\nnot do that. No government to-day would have the impudence to say that\ndischarge of the duties of citizenship is dependent upon acceptance of\nthe Athanasian Creed, or upon the belief in the Bible, or in an after\nlife. And not being able to say this it is driven to the absurd position\nof, on the one hand saying to the people, that religion shall be taught\nin the State schools, and on the other, if one doesn't care to have it\nhe may leave it alone without suffering the slightest disqualification.\n\nIndeed, it is impossible for instruction in religion to be genuinely\ncalled education at all. If I may be allowed to repeat what I have said\nelsewhere on this subject, one may well ask:--\n\n     What is it that the genuine educationalist aims at? The imparting\n     of knowledge is, of course, essential. But, in the main, education\n     consists in a wholesome training of mind and body, in forming\n     habits of cleanliness, truthfulness, honesty, kindness, the\n     development of a sense of duty and of justice. Can it be said in\n     truth that what is called religious instruction does these things,\n     or that instruction in them is actually inseparable from religion?\n     Does the creation of a religious \"atmosphere,\" the telling of\n     stories of God or Jesus or angels or devils--I omit hell--have any\n     influence in the direction of cultivating a sound mind in a sound\n     body? Will anyone contend that the child has even a passing\n     understanding of subjects over which all adults are more or less\n     mystified? To confuse is not to instruct, to mystify is not to\n     enlighten, the repetition of meaningless phrases can leave behind\n     no healthy residuum in the mind. It is the development of capacity\n     along right lines that is important, not the mere cramming of\n     verbal formulae. Above all, it is the function of the true teacher\n     to make his pupil independent of him. The aim of the priest is to\n     keep one eternally dependent upon his ministrations. The final and\n     fatal criticism upon religious instruction is that it is not\n     education at all.\n\n     It may be argued that a policy of creating sentiments in favour of\n     certain things not wholly understood by the child is followed in\n     connection with matters other than religion. We do not wait until a\n     child is old enough to appreciate the intellectual justification of\n     ethics to train it in morals. And in many directions we seek to\n     develop some tendencies and to suppress others in accordance with\n     an accepted standard. All this may be admitted as quite true, but\n     it may be said in reply that these are things for which an adequate\n     reason _can_ be given, and we are sure of the child's approbation\n     when it is old enough to appreciate what has been done. But in the\n     case of religion the situation is altogether different. We are here\n     forcing upon the child as true, as of the same admitted value as\n     ordinary ethical teaching, certain religious doctrines about which\n     adults themselves dispute with the greatest acrimony. And there is\n     clearly a wide and vital distinction between cultivating in a child\n     sentiments the validity of which may at any time be demonstrated,\n     or teachings upon the truth of which practically all adults are\n     agreed, and impressing upon it teachings which all agree may be\n     false. We are exploiting the child in the interests of a Church.\n     Parents are allowing themselves to be made the catspaws of priests;\n     and it is not the least formidable of the counts against the\n     Church's influence that it converts into active enemies of children\n     those who should stand as their chief protectors. It is religion\n     which makes it true that \"a _child's_ foes shall be those of his\n     own household.\"[14]\n\n[14] _Religion and the Child_, Pioneer Press.\n\nWhere the claim to force religion upon the child breaks down on such\ngrounds as those outlined above it is quite certain that it cannot be\nmade good upon any other ground. Historically, it is also clear that we\ndo not find that conduct was better in those ages when the Christian\nreligion was held most unquestioningly, but rather the reverse. The\nmoralization of the world has, as a matter of historic fact, kept pace\nwith the secularizing of life. This is true both as regards theory and\nfact. The application of scientific methods to ethical problems has\ntaught us more of the nature of morality in the short space of three or\nfour generations than Christian teaching did in a thousand years. And it\nis not with an expansion of the power and influence of religion that\nconduct has undergone an improvement, but with the bringing of people\ntogether in terms of secular relationships and reducing their religious\nbeliefs to the level of speculative ideas which men may hold or reject\nas they think fit, so long as they do not allow them to influence their\nrelations to one another.\n\nOn all grounds it is urgent that the child should be rescued from the\nclutches of the priest. It is unfair to the child to so take advantage\nof its trust, its innocence, and its ignorance, and to force upon it as\ntrue teachings that which we must all admit may be false, and which, in\na growing number of cases, the child when it grows up either rejects\nabsolutely or considerably modifies. It is unjust to the principle upon\nwhich the modern State rests, because it is teaching the speculative\nbeliefs of a few with money raised from the taxation of all. The whole\ntendency of life in the modern State is in the direction of\nsecularization--confining the duties and activities of the State to\nthose actions which have their meaning and application to this life.\nEvery argument that is valid against the State forcing religion upon the\nadult is valid also against the State forcing religion upon the child.\nAnd, on the other hand, it is really absurd to say that religion must be\nforced upon the child, but we are outraging the rights of the individual\nand perpetuating an intolerable wrong if we force it upon the adult.\nSurely the dawning and developing individuality of the child has claims\non the community that are not less urgent than those of the adult.\n\nFinally, the resolve to rescue the child from the clutches of the priest\nis in the interest of civilization itself. All human experience shows\nthat a civilization that is under the control of a priesthood is doomed.\nFrom the days of ancient Egypt there is no exception to this rule. And\nsooner or later a people, if they are to progress, are compelled to\nattempt to limit the control of the priest over life. The whole of the\nstruggle of the Reformation was fundamentally for the control of the\nsecular power--whether life should or should not be under the control of\nthe Church. In that contest, over a large part of Europe, the Roman\nChurch lost. But the victory was only a very partial one. It was never\ncomplete. The old priest was driven out, but the new Presbyter remained,\nand he was but the old tyrant in another form. Ever since then the fight\nhas gone on, and ever since, the Protestant minister, equally with the\nCatholic priest, has striven for the control of education and so to\ndominate the mind of the rising generation. The fight for the liberation\nof the child is thus a fight for the control or the directing of\ncivilization. It is a question of whether we are to permit the priest to\nhold the future to ransom by permitting this control of the child, or\nwhether we are to leave religious beliefs, as we leave other beliefs of\na speculative character, to such a time as the child is old enough to\nunderstand them. It is a fight for the future of civilization.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nTHE NATURE OF RELIGION.\n\n\nIt is no mere paradox to say that religion is most interesting to those\nwho have ceased to believe in it. The reason for this is not far to\nseek. Religious beliefs play so large a part in the early history of\nsociety, and are so influential in social history generally, that it is\nimpossible to leave religion alone without forfeiting an adequate\ncomprehension of a large part of social evolution. Human development\nforms a continuous record; our institutions, whatever be their nature,\nhave their roots in the far past, and often, even when modified in form,\nretain their essential characteristics. No student of social history can\ntravel far or dig deeply without finding himself in contact with\nreligion in some form. And the mass of mankind are not yet so far\nremoved from \"primitive\" humanity as to give to the study of religion an\nexclusively archaeological interest.\n\nWhere so much is discord it is well, if it be possible, to start with a\nbasis of agreement. And on one point, at least, there is substantial\nunity among critics. There is a general agreement among students of folk\nlore, comparative mythology, and anthropology, that religious ideas rest\nultimately upon an interpretation of nature that is now generally\ndiscarded. Differing as they do on details, there is consent upon this\npoint. It is the world of the savage that originates the religion of the\nsavage, and upon that rests the religions of civilized man as surely as\nhis physical structure goes back to the animal world for its beginning.\nAnd in giving birth to a religious explanation of his world the savage\nwas only pursuing the normal path of human development. Mankind\nprogresses through trial and error; doubtful and erroneous theories are\nframed before more reliable ones are established, and while truth may\ncrown our endeavours it seldom meets us at the outset. Religious beliefs\nthus form man's earliest interpretation of nature. On this there is, as\nI have said, general agreement, and it is as well not to permit\nourselves to lose sight of that in the discussion of the various\ntheories that are put forward as to the exact nature of the stages of\nreligious development.\n\nIn many directions the less accurate theories of things are replaced\ngradually and smoothly by more reliable explanations. But in religion\nthis is not so. For many reasons, with which we are not now immediately\nconcerned, religious beliefs are not outgrown without considerable\n\"growing pains.\" And a long time after the point of view from which\nreligious beliefs sprang has been given up, the conclusions that were\nbased on that point of view are held to most tenaciously. And yet if one\naccepts the scientific story of the origins of religious ideas there\nseems no justification whatever for this. Religion cannot transcend its\norigin. Multiply nothing to infinity and the result is still nothing.\nIllusion can beget nothing but illusion, even though in its pursuit we\nmay stumble on reality. And no amount of ingenuity can extract truth\nfrom falsehood.\n\nOne's surprise at the perpetuation of this particular delusion is\ndiminished by the reflection that the period during which we have\npossessed anything like an exact knowledge of the character and\noperations of natural forces is, after all, but an infinitesimal\nportion of the time the race has been in existence. Three or four\ncenturies at most cover the period during which such knowledge has been\nat our command, and small as this is in relation to the thousands of\ngenerations wherein superstition has reigned unchallenged, a knowledge\nof the laws of mental life belongs only to the latter portion. And even\nthen the knowledge available has been till recently the possession of a\nclass, while to-day, large masses of the population are under the\ndomination of the crudest of superstitions. The belief that thirteen is\nan unlucky number, that a horse-shoe brings luck, the extent to which\npalmistry and astrology flourishes, the cases of witchcraft that crop up\nevery now and again, all bear testimony to the vast mass of superstition\nthat is still with us. The primitive mind is still alive and active,\ndisguised though it may be by a veneer of civilization and a terribly\nsuperficial education. And when one reflects upon all the facts there is\ncause for astonishment that in the face of so great a dead weight of\ncustom and tradition against a rational interpretation of the universe\nso much has been done and in so short a time.\n\nIn discussing religion very much turns upon the meaning of the word, and\nunfortunately \"religion\" is to-day used in so many differing and\nconflicting senses that without the most careful definition no one is\nquite sure what is meant by it. The curious disinclination of so many to\navow themselves as being without a religion must also be noted. To be\nwithout a religion, or rather to be known as one who is without a\nreligion, would seem to mark one off as apart from the rest of one's\nkind, and to infringe all the tribal taboos at one sweep. And very few\nseem to have the courage to stand alone. Mr. Augustine Birrell once\nsaid, in introducing to the House of Commons an Education Bill, that\nchildren would rather be wicked than singular. That is quite true, and\nit is almost as true of adults as it is of children. There is no great\nobjection to having a religion different from that of other people,\nbecause the religions of the world are already of so varied a character\nthat there is always companionship in difference. But to be without a\nreligion altogether is a degree of isolation that few can stand. The\nconsequence is that although vast numbers have given up everything that\nis really religious they still cling to the name. They have left the\nservice, but they show a curious attachment to the uniform. Thus it\nhappens that we have a religion of Socialism, a religion of Ethics,\netc., and I should not be surprised to find one day a religion of\nAtheism--if that has not already appeared.\n\nBut all this is a mistake, and a very serious mistake. The Freethinker,\nor Socialist, who calls his theory of life a religion is not causing the\nreligionist to think more highly of him, he is making his opponent think\nmore highly of his own opinions. Imitation becomes in such a case not\nalone flattery, but confirmation. The Goddite does not think more highly\nof Freethought because it is labelled religion, he merely becomes the\nmore convinced of the supreme value of his own faith, and still hopes\nfor the Freethinker's return to the fold. If Freethinkers are to command\nthe respect of the religious world they must show not only that they can\nget along without religion, but that they can dispense with the name\nalso. If strength does not command respect weakness will certainly fail\nto secure it. And those of us who are genuinely anxious that the world\nshould be done with false ideas and mischievous frames of mind ought to\nat least take care that our own speech and thought are as free from\nambiguity as is possible.\n\nThere is another and deeper aspect of the matter. As I have already\nsaid, language not alone expresses thought, it also governs and directs\nit. Locke expressed this truth when he said, \"It is impossible that men\nshould ever truly seek, or certainly discover, the disagreement of ideas\nthemselves whilst their thoughts flutter about, or stick only on sounds\nof doubtful and uncertain significance.\" Quite a number of theological\nand metaphysical conundrums would lose their significance if it were\nonly realized that the words used are not alone of doubtful and\nuncertain significance, but often of no possible significance whatever.\nThey are like counterfeit coins, which retain their value only so long\nas they are not tested by a proper standard. And the evil of these\ncounterfeits is that they deceive both those who tender and those who\naccept them. For even though slovenliness of speech is not always the\nproduct of slovenly thought, in the long run it tends to induce it, and\nthose who realize this need to be specially on their guard against using\nlanguage which can only further confuse an already sufficiently confused\npublic opinion, and strengthen superstitions that are already\nsufficiently strong without our clandestine or unintended assistance.[15]\n\n[15] Of the evil of an incautious use of current words we have an\nexample in the case of Darwin. Neither his expressions of regret at\nhaving \"truckled to public opinion\" at having used the term \"creator,\"\nnor his explicit declaration that the word was to him only a synonym of\nignorance, prevented religious apologists from citing him as a believer\nin deity on the strength of his having used the word.\n\nUnfortunately, it remains a favourite policy with many writers to use\nand define the word religion, not in accordance with a comprehensive\nsurvey of facts, but in a way that will harmonize with existing\npre-possessions. To this class belongs Matthew Arnold's famous\ndefinition of religion as \"Morality touched with emotion,\" Professor\nSeeley's statement that we are entitled to call religion \"any habitual\nand permanent admiration,\" or the common description of religion as\nconsisting in devotion to an ideal. All such definitions may be set on\none side as historically worthless, and as not harmonizing with the\nfacts. Arnold's definition is in the highest degree superficial, since\nthere exists no morality that is not touched with emotion, and on the\nother hand there exist phases of religion that have not any connection\nwith morality, however slight. Professor Leuba properly rules\ndefinitions of this class out of order in the comment that, as it is\n\"the function of words to delimitate, one defeats the purpose of\nlanguage by stretching the meaning of a word until it has lost all\nprecision and unity of meaning.\"[16] A definition that includes\neverything may as well, for all the use it is, not cover anything.\n\n[16] _The Psychological Origin and Nature of Religion_, p. 92.\n\nEqually faulty are those definitions that are based upon an assumed\nconscious effort to explain the mysteries of existence. No stranger\nlapse ever overtook a great thinker than occurred to Herbert Spencer\nwhen he described religion as consisting in a worship of the unknowable,\nand as due to the desire to explain a mystery ever pressing for\ninterpretation. Granting the existence of an Unknowable, the sense of\nits presence belongs to the later stages of mental evolution, not to the\nearlier ones. Metaphysical and mystical theories of religion are\nindications of its disintegration, not of its beginnings. Primitive man\nbegan to believe in ghosts and gods for the same reasons that he\nbelieved in other things; he worshipped his gods for very concrete\nconsiderations. Even the distinction between \"spiritual\" and material\nexistence is quite foreign to his mind. Such distinctions arise\ngradually with the progress of knowledge and its disintegrating\ninfluence on inherited beliefs. If primitive man may be credited with a\nphilosophy, and if one may use the word in a purely convenient sense,\nthen one may say that he is neither a dualist, nor a pluralist, but a\nmonist. The soul or double he believes in is similar to the body he\nsees; the unseen forces he credits with various activities are of the\nsame kind as those with which he is acquainted. To read our conceptions\ninto the mind of primitive man because we use our words to explain his\nthoughts is a procedure that is bound to end in confusion. Man's\nearliest conception of things is vague and indefinite. Later, he\ndistinguishes differences, qualitative and quantitative, his conception\nof things becomes more definite, and distinctions are set up that lay\nthe foundations of science and philosophy, and which mark their\nseparation from religion.\n\nSo far as one can see there are only two causes why people should\ncontinue to use the word religion after giving up all for which it\nproperly stands. One is sheer conservatism. When, for instance, Thomas\nPaine said, \"To do good is my religion,\" he had at least the\njustification of believing in a deity, but apart from this the only\ncause for his calling the desire to do good a religion is that there had\ngrown up the fashion of calling one's rule of life a religion. The other\ncause is the ill-repute that has been attached to those who avow\nthemselves as being without religion. Orthodoxy saw to it that they were\ntreated as pariahs without social status, and, in many cases, legal\nrights. Once upon a time it was useless unless one believed in the\n_right_ religion. Nowadays, any religion will do, or anything that one\ncares to call a religion. But not to have any religion at all still puts\none outside the pale of respectability, and there seem to be few who\ncan stand that. And supernatural religion--the only genuine\narticle--being impossible with many, these may still, if they care to,\nsave their face by professing to use the name, even if they have not the\nthing. Orthodoxy is very accommodating nowadays.\n\nLeaving for a time the question of how religion actually does arise, we\nmay turn to those writers who define religion in terms of ethics. It may\nbe admitted that so far as the later stages of religion are concerned\nconsiderable emphasis is laid upon ethics. But we can only make religion\na part of ethics by expanding the term morality so as to include\neverything, or by contracting it so as to exclude all the lower forms of\nreligious belief. And any definition of religion that does not embrace\nall its forms is obviously inaccurate. It is not at all a question of\ndefining the higher in terms of the lower, or the lower in terms of the\nhigher, it is simply the need of so defining religion that our\ndefinition will cover all religions, high and low, and thus deal with\ntheir essential characteristics.\n\nThe only sense in which ethics may be said to be included in religion\nlies in the fact that in primitive times religion includes everything.\nThe fear of unseen intelligences is one of the most powerful factors of\nwhich early humanity is conscious, and the necessity for conciliating\nthem is always present. The religious ceremonies connected with eating\nand drinking, with lying down and rising up, with sowing and reaping,\nwith disease, hunting, and almost every circumstance of primitive life\nprove this. Differentiation and discrimination arise very slowly, but\none after another the various departments of life do shake off the\ncontrolling influence of religion. Ethics may, therefore, be said to\noriginate in the shadow of religion--as do most other things--but in no\nsense can morality be said to owe its origin to religion. Its origin is\ndeeper and more fundamental than religion. As a matter of practice\nmorality is independent of religious belief and moral theory, and as a\nmatter of theory the formulation of definite moral rules is\nsubstantially independent of religion and is an assertion of its\nindependence. Indeed, the conflict between a growing moral sense and\nreligion is almost as large a fact in the social sphere as the conflict\nbetween religion and science is in the intellectual one.\n\nIn all its earlier stages religion is at best non-moral. It becomes\notherwise later only because of the reaction of a socialized morality on\nreligious beliefs. Early religion is never concerned with the morality\nof its teaching, nor are the worshippers concerned with the morality of\ntheir gods. The sole question is what the gods desire and how best to\nsatisfy them. We cannot even conceive man ascribing ethical qualities to\nhis gods until he has first of all conceived them in regard to his\nfellow men. The savage has no _moral_ reverence for his gods; they are\nmagnified men, but not perfect ones. He worships not because he admires,\nbut because he fears. Fear is, indeed, one of the root causes of\nreligious belief. Professor Leuba quite admits the origin of religion is\nfear, but he reserves the possibility of man being occasionally placed\nunder such favourable conditions that fear may be absent. We admit the\npossibility, but at present it remains a possibility only. At present\nall the evidence goes to prove the words of Ribot that, \"The religious\nsentiment is composed first of all of the emotion of fear in its\ndifferent degrees, from profound terror to vague uneasiness, due to\nfaith in an unknown mysterious and impalpable power.\" And if that be\nadmitted, we can scarcely find here the origin of morality.\n\nWhat is here overlooked is the important fact that while religion, as\nsuch, commences in a reasoned process, morality is firmly established\nbefore mankind is even aware of its existence. A formulated religion is\nessentially of the nature of a theory set forth to explain or to deal\nwith certain experiences. Morality, on the other hand, takes its rise in\nthose feelings and instincts that are developed in animal and human\nsocieties under the pressure of natural selection. The affection of the\nanimal for its young, of the human mother for its child, the attraction\nof male and female, the sympathetic feelings that bind members of the\nsame species together, these do not depend upon theory, or even upon an\nintellectual perception of their value. Theory tries to account for\ntheir existence, and reason justifies their being, but they are\nfundamentally the product of associated life. And it is precisely\nbecause morality is the inevitable condition of associated life that it\nhas upon religion the effect of modifying it until it is at least not\ntoo great an outrage upon the conditions of social well-being. All along\nwe can, if we will, see how the developing moral sense forces a change\nin religious teaching. At one time there is nothing revolting in the\nChristian doctrine of election which dooms one to heaven and another to\nhell without the slightest regard to personal merit. At another the\ndoctrine of eternal damnation is rejected as a matter of course. Heresy\nhunting and heretic burning, practised as a matter of course by one\ngeneration become highly repulsive to another. In every direction we see\nreligious beliefs undergoing a modification under the influence of moral\nand social growth. It is always man who moralizes his gods; never by any\nchance is it the gods who moralize man.\n\nIf we are to arrive at a proper understanding of religion we can,\ntherefore, no more assume morals to be an integral part of religion\nthan we can assume medicine or any of the special arts, all of which may\nbe associated with religion. It will not even do to define religion with\nMr. W. H. Mallock[17] as a belief that the world \"has been made and is\nsustained by an intelligence external to and essentially independent of\nit.\" That may pass as a definition of Theism, but Theism is only one of\nthe phases of religion, and the idea of a creator independent of the\nuniverse is one that is quite alien to the earlier stages of religion.\nAnd to deny the name of religion to primitive beliefs is to put oneself\non the level of the type of Christian who declines to call any\nsuperstition but his own religion. It is for this reason impossible to\nagree with Professor Leuba when he says that \"the idea of a creator must\ntake precedence of ghosts and nature beings in the making of a\nreligion.\" If by precedence the order of importance, from the standpoint\nof later and comparatively modern forms of religion, is intended, the\nstatement may pass. But if the precedence claimed is a time order, the\nreply is that, instead of the idea of a creator taking precedence of\nghosts and nature beings, it is from these that the idea of a creator is\nevolved. It is quite true Professor Leuba holds that \"belief in the\nexistence of unseen anthropopathic beings is not religion. It is only\nwhen man enters into relation with them that religion comes into\nexistence,\" but so soon as man believes in the existence of them he\nbelieves himself to be in relation with them, and a large part of his\nefforts is expended in making these relations of an amicable and\nprofitable character.\n\n[17] _Religion as a Credible Doctrine_, p. 11.\n\nA further definition of religion, first given, I think, by the late\nProfessor Fiske, but since widely used, as a craving for \"fulness of\nlife,\" must be dismissed as equally faulty. For if by fulness of life\nis meant the desire to make it morally and intellectually richer, the\nanswer is that this desire is plainly the product of a progressive\nsocial life, of which much that now passes for religion is the\nadulterated expression. Apologetically, it is an attempt so to state\nreligion that it may evade criticism of its essential character. From\none point of view this may be gratifying enough, but it is no help to an\nunderstanding of the nature of religion. And how little religion does\nhelp to a fuller life will be seen by anyone who knows the part played\nby organized religion in mental development and how blindly obstructive\nit is to new ideas in all departments of life. All these attempts to\ndefine religion in terms of ethics, of metaphysics, or as the craving\nafter an ideal are wholly misleading. It is reading history backwards,\nand attributing to primitive human nature feelings and conceptions which\nit does not and cannot possess.\n\nIn another work[18] I have traced the origin of the belief in God to the\nmental state of primitive mankind, and there is no need to go over the\nsame ground here at any length. Commencing with the indisputable fact\nthat religion is something that is acquired, an examination of the state\nof mind in which primitive mankind faced, and still faces, the world,\nled to the conclusion that the idea of god begins in the personification\nof natural forces by the savage. The growth of the idea of God was there\ntraced back to the ghost, not to the exclusion of other methods of god\nmaking, but certainly as one of its prominent causes. I must refer\nreaders to that work who desire a more extended treatment of the\ngod-idea.\n\n[18] _Theism or Atheism_, Chapter 2.\n\nWhat remains to be traced here, in order to understand the other factor\nthat is common to religions, is the belief in a continued state of\nexistence after death, or at least of a soul.\n\nIt has been shown to the point of demonstration by writers such as\nSpencer, Tylor, and Frazer, that the idea of a double is suggested to\nman by his experience of dreams, swoons, and allied normal and abnormal\nexperiences. Even in the absence of evidence coming to us from the\nbeliefs of existing tribes of savages, the fact that the ghost is always\ndepicted as identical in appearance with the living person would be\nenough to suggest its dream origin. But there are other considerations\nthat carry the proof further. The savage sees in his dreams the figures\nof dead men and assumes that there is a double that can get out of the\nbody during sleep. But he also dreams of dead men, and this is also\nproof that the dead man still exists. Death does not, then, involve the\ndeath of the ghost, but only its removal to some other sphere of\nexistence. Further, the likeness of sleep itself to death is so obvious\nand so striking that it has formed one of the most insistent features of\nhuman thought and speech. With primitive man it is far more than a\nfigure of speech. The Melanesians put this point of view when they say,\n\"the soul goes out of the body in some dreams, and if for some reason it\ndoes not come back the man is found dead in the morning.\" Death and\ndreaming have, therefore, this in common, they are both due to the\nwithdrawal of the double. Hence we find a whole series of ceremonies\ndesigned to avert death or to facilitate the return of the double. The\nlingering of this practice is well illustrated by Sir Frederick Treves\nin his book, _The Other Side of the Lantern_. He there tells how he saw\na Chinese mother, with the tears streaming down her face, waving at the\ndoor of the house the clothing of a recently deceased child in order to\nbring back the departed spirit.\n\nDeath is thus the separation of the double from the body; but if it may\nreturn, its return is not always a matter of rejoicing, for we find\ncustoms that are plainly intended to prevent the ghost recognizing the\nliving or to find its way back to its old haunts. Thus Frazer has shown\nthat the wearing of black is really a form of disguise. It is a method\ntaken to disguise the living from the attentions of the dead. It is in\norder to avoid recognition by spirits who wish to injure them that the\nTongans change their war costume at every battle. The Chinese call their\nbest beloved children by worthless names in order to delude evil\nspirits. In Egypt, too, the children who were most thought of were the\nworst clad. In some places the corpse is never carried out through the\ndoor, but by a hole in the side of the hut, which is afterwards closed\nso that the ghost may not find its way back.\n\nThe ghost being conceived as at all points identical with living beings,\nit demands attention after death. It needs food, weapons, servants,\nwives. In this way there originates a whole group of burial customs,\nperformed partly from fear of what the ghost may do if its wants are\nneglected. The custom of burying food and weapons with the dead thus\nreceives a simple explanation. These things are buried with the dead man\nin order that their spirit may accompany his to the next world and serve\nthe same uses there that they did here. The modern custom of scattering\nflowers over a grave is unquestionably a survival of this primitive\nbelief. The killing of a wife on the husband's grave has the same\norigin. Her spirit goes to attend the husband in the ghost-land. In the\ncase of a chief we have the killing of servants for the same reason.\nWhen Leonidas says, \"Bury me on my shield, I will enter even Hades as a\nLacedaemonian,\" he was exhibiting the persistence of this belief in\nclassical times. The Chinese offer a further example by making little\npaper houses, filling them with paper models of the things used by the\ndead person, and burning them on the grave. All over the world we have\nthe same class of customs developing from the same beliefs, and the same\nbeliefs projected by the human mind when brought face to face with the\nsame class of phenomena.\n\nAs the ghost is pictured as like the physical man, so the next world is\nmore or less a replica of this. The chief distinction is that there is a\ngreater abundance of desirable things. Hunting tribes have elysiums\nwhere there is an abundance of game. The old Norse heaven was a place\nwhere there was unlimited fighting. The gold and diamonds and rubies of\nthe Christian heaven represent a stage of civilization where these\nthings had acquired a special value. Social distinctions, too, are often\nmaintained. The Caribs believe that every time they secure an enemy's\nhead they have gained a servant in the next world. And all know the\nstory of the French aristocrat who, when threatened with hell, replied,\n\"God will think twice before damning a person of my quality.\"\n\nSeveral other consequences of this service paid to the dead may be\nnoted. The ghost being drawn to the place where the body is buried, the\ndesire to preserve the corpse probably led to the practice of embalming.\nThe grave becomes a place of sanctity, of pilgrimage, and of religious\nobservance, and it has been maintained by many writers, notably by Mr.\nW. Simpson in his _Worship of Death_, that the service round the grave\ngives us the beginning of all temple worship.\n\nBut from this brief view of the beginnings of religion we are able to\nsee how completely fallacious are all those efforts to derive religion\nfrom an attempt to achieve an ideal, from a desire to solve certain\nphilosophical problems, or from any of the other sources that are\nparaded by modern apologists. The origin and nature of religion is\ncomparatively simple to understand, once we have cleared our minds of\nall these fallacies and carefully examine the facts. Religion is no more\nthan the explanation which the primitive mind gives of the experiences\nwhich it has of the world. And, therefore, the only definition that\ncovers all the facts, and which stresses the essence of all religions,\nhigh and low, savage and civilized, is that given by Tylor, namely, the\nbelief in supernatural beings. It is the one definition that expresses\nthe feature common to all religions, and with that definition before us\nwe are able to use language with a precision that is impossible so long\nas we attempt to read into religion something that is absent from all\nits earlier forms, and which is only introduced when advanced thought\nmakes the belief in the supernatural more and more difficult to retain\nits hold over the human mind.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nTHE UTILITY OF RELIGION.\n\n\nThe real nature of religion being as stated, it having originated in an\nutterly erroneous view of things, it would seem that nothing more can be\nneeded to justify its rejection. But the conclusion would not be\ncorrect, at least so far as the mass of believers or quasi-believers are\nconcerned. Here the conviction still obtains that religion, no matter\nwhat its origin, still wields an enormous influence for good. The\ncurious thing is that when one enquires \"what religion is it that has\nexerted this beneficent influence?\" the replies effectually cancel one\nanother. Each means by religion his own religion, and each accuses the\nreligion of the other man of all the faults with which the Freethinker\naccuses the whole. The avowed object of our widespread missionary\nactivity is to save the \"heathen\" from the evil effects of their\nreligion; and there is not the least doubt that if the heathen had the\nbrute force at their command, and the impudence that we have, they would\ncordially reciprocate. And the efforts of the various Christian sects to\nconvert each other is too well known to need mention. So that the only\nlogical inference from all this is that, while all religions are, when\ntaken singly, injurious, taken in the bulk they are sources of profound\nbenefit.\n\nIt is not alone the common or garden order of religionist who takes up\nthis curious position, nor is it even the better educated believer; it\nis not uncommon to find those who have rejected all the formal\nreligions of the world yet seeking to discover some good that religion\nhas done or is doing. As an illustration of this we may cite an example\nfrom Sir James Frazer, than whom no one has done more to bring home to\nstudents a knowledge of the real nature of religious beliefs. It is the\nmore surprising to find him putting in a plea for the good done by\nreligion, not in the present, but in the past. And such an instance, if\nit does nothing else, may at least serve to mitigate our ferocity\ntowards the common type of religionist.\n\nIn an address delivered in 1909, entitled \"Psyche's Task: A discourse\nconcerning the influence of superstition on the growth of Institutions,\"\nhe puts in a plea for the consideration of superstition (religion) at\nvarious stages of culture. Of its effects generally, he says:--\n\n     That it has done much harm in the world cannot be denied. It has\n     sacrificed countless lives, wasted untold treasures, embroiled\n     nations, severed friends, parted husbands and wives, parents and\n     children, putting swords and worse than swords between them; it has\n     filled gaols and madhouses with its deluded victims; it has broken\n     many hearts, embittered the whole of many a life, and not content\n     with persecuting the living it has pursued the dead into the grave\n     and beyond it, gloating over the horrors which its foul imagination\n     has conjured up to appal and torture the survivors. It has done all\n     this and more.\n\nNow this is a severe indictment, and one is a little surprised to find\nfollowing that a plea on behalf of this same superstition to the effect\nthat it has \"among certain races and at certain times strengthened the\nrespect for government, property, marriage, and human life.\" In support\nof this proposition he cites a large number of instances from various\nraces of people, all of which prove, not what Sir James sets out to\nprove, but only that religious observances and beliefs have been\nconnected with certain institutions that are in themselves admirable\nenough. And on this point there is not, nor can there be, any serious\ndispute. One can find many similar instances among ourselves to-day. But\nthe real question at issue is a deeper one than that. It is not enough\nfor the religionist to show that religion has often been associated with\ngood things and has given them its sanction. The reply to this would be\nthat if it had been otherwise religion would long since have\ndisappeared. The essential question here is, Have the institutions named\na basis in secular and social life, and would they have developed in the\nabsence of superstition as they have developed with superstition in the\nfield?\n\nNow I do not see that Sir James Frazer proves either that these\ninstitutions have not a sufficient basis in secular life--he would, I\nimagine, admit that they have; or that they would not have developed as\nwell in the absence of superstition as they have done with it. In fact,\nthe whole plea that good has been done by superstition seems to be\ndestroyed in the statements that although certain institutions \"have\nbeen based partly on superstitions, it by no means follows that even\namong these races they have never been based on anything else,\" and that\nwhenever institutions have proved themselves stable and permanent \"there\nis a strong presumption that they rest on something more solid than\nsuperstition.\" So that, after all, it may well be that superstition is\nall the time taking credit for the working of forces that are not of its\nkind or nature.\n\nLet us take the example given of the respect for human life as a crucial\ntest. Admitting that religions have taught that to take life was a\nsinful act, one might well interpose with the query as to whether it\nwas ever necessary to teach man that homicide within certain limits was\na wrong thing. Pre-evolutionary sociology, which sometimes taught that\nman originally led an existence in which his hand was against every\nother man, and who, therefore, fought the battle of life strictly off\nhis own bat, may have favoured that assumption. But that we now know is\nquite wrong. We know that man slowly emerged from a pre-human gregarious\nstage, and that in all group life there is an organic restraint on\nmutual slaughter. The essential condition of group life is that the\nnature of the individual shall be normally devoid of the desire for the\nindiscriminate slaughter of his fellows. And if that is true of animals,\nit is certainly true of man. Primitive human society does not and cannot\nrepresent a group of beings each of whom must be restrained by direct\ncoercion from murdering the other.\n\nIn this case, therefore, we have to reckon with both biological and\nsociological forces, and I do not see that it needs more than this to\nexplain all there is to explain. Human life is always associated life,\nand this means not alone a basis of mutual forbearance and co-operation,\nbut a development of the sympathetic feelings which tends to increase as\nsociety develops, they being, as a matter of fact, the conditions of its\ngrowth. And whatever competition existed between tribes would still\nfurther emphasize the value of those feelings that led to effective\nco-operation.\n\nThe question, then, whether the anti-homicidal feeling is at all\ndependent upon religion is answered in the negative by the fact that it\nante-dates what we may term the era of conscious social organization.\nThat of whether religion strengthens this feeling still remains,\nalthough even that has been answered by implication. And the first thing\nto be noted here is that whatever may be the value of the superstitious\nsafeguard against homicide it certainly has no value as against people\noutside the tribe. In fact, when a savage desires to kill an enemy he\nfinds in superstition a fancied source of strength, and often of\nencouragement. Westermarck points out that \"savages carefully\ndistinguish between an act of homicide committed in their own community\nand one where the victim is a stranger. Whilst the former is under\nordinary circumstances disapproved of, the latter is in most cases\nallowed and often regarded as praiseworthy.\" And Frazer himself points\nout that the belief in immortality plays no small part in encouraging\nwar among primitive peoples,[19] while if we add the facts of the killing\nof children, of old men and women, and wives, together with the practice\nof human sacrifice, we shall see little cause to attribute the\ndevelopment of the feeling against homicide to religious beliefs.\n\n[19] The state of war which normally exists between many, if not most,\nneighbouring savage tribes, springs in large measure directly from their\nbelief in immortality; since one of the commonest motives to hostility\nis a desire to appease the angry ghosts of friends who are supposed to\nhave perished by baleful arts of sorcerers in another tribe, and who, if\nvengeance is not inflicted on their real or imaginary murderers, will\nwreak their fury on their undutiful fellow-tribesmen.--_The Belief in\nImmortality_, Vol. I., p. 468.\n\nIn one passage in his address Sir James does show himself quite alive to\nthe evil influence of the belief in immortality. He says:--\n\n     It might with some show of reason be maintained that no belief has\n     done so much to retard the economic and thereby the social progress\n     of mankind as the belief in the immortality of the soul; for this\n     belief has led race after race, generation after generation, to\n     sacrifice the real wants of the living to the imaginary wants of\n     the dead. The waste and destruction of life and property which\n     this faith has entailed has been enormous and incalculable. But I\n     am not here concerned with the disastrous and deplorable\n     consequences, the unspeakable follies and crimes and miseries which\n     have flowed in practice from the theory of a future life. My\n     business at present is with the more cheerful side of a gloomy\n     subject.\n\nEvery author has, of course, the fullest right to select whichever\naspect of a subject he thinks deserves treatment, but all the same one\nmay point out that it is this dwelling on the \"cheerful side\" of these\nbeliefs that encourages the religionist to put forward claims on behalf\nof present day religion that Sir James himself would be the first to\nchallenge. There is surely greater need to emphasize the darker side of\na creed that has thousands of paid advocates presenting an imaginary\nbright side to the public gaze.\n\nBut what has been said of the relation of the feeling against homicide\napplies with no more than a variation of terms to the other instances\ngiven by Sir James Frazer. Either these institutions have a basis in\nutility or they have not. If they have not, then religion can claim no\nsocial credit for their preservation. If they have a basis in utility,\nthen the reason for their preservation is to be found in social\nselection, although the precise local form in which an institution\nappears may be determined by other circumstances. And when Sir James\nsays that the task of government has been facilitated by the\nsuperstition that the governors belonged to a superior class of beings,\none may safely assume that the statement holds good only of individual\ngovernors, or of particular forms of government. It may well be that\nwhen a people are led to believe that a certain individual possesses\nsupernatural powers, or that a particular government enjoys the favour\nof supernatural beings, there will be less inclination to resentment\nagainst orders than there would be otherwise. But government and\ngovernors, in other words, a general body of rules for the government of\nthe tribe, and the admitted leadership of certain favoured individuals,\nwould remain natural facts in the absence of superstition, and their\ndevelopment or suppression would remain subject to the operation of\nsocial or natural selection. So, again, with the desire for private\nproperty. The desire to retain certain things as belonging to oneself is\nnot altogether unnoticeable among animals. A dog will fight for its\nbone, monkeys secrete things which they desire to retain for their own\nuse, etc., and so far as the custom possesses advantages, we may\ncertainly credit savages with enough common-sense to be aware of the\nfact. But the curious thing is that the institution of private property\nis not nearly so powerful among primitive peoples as it is among those\nmore advanced. So that we are faced with this curious comment upon Sir\nJames's thesis. Granting that the institution of private property has\nbeen strengthened by superstition we have the strange circumstance that\nthat institution is weakest where superstition is strongest and\nstrongest where superstition is weakest.\n\nThe truth is that Sir James Frazer seems here to have fallen into the\nsame error as the late Walter Bagehot, and to have formed the belief\nthat primitive man required breaking in to the \"social yoke.\" The truth\nis that the great need of primitive mankind is not to be broken in but\nto acquire the courage and determination to break out. This error may\nhave originated in the disinclination of the savage to obey _our_ rules,\nor it may have been a heritage from the eighteenth century philosophy of\nthe existence of an idyllic primitive social state. The truth is,\nhowever, that there is no one so fettered by custom as is the savage.\nThe restrictions set by a savage society on its members would be\npositively intolerable to civilized beings. And if it be said that these\ncustoms required formation, the reply is that inheriting the imitability\nof the pre-human gregarious animal, this would form the basis on which\nthe tyrannizing custom of primitive life is built.\n\nThere was, however, another generalization of Bagehot's that was\nunquestionably sound. Assuming that the first step necessary to\nprimitive mankind was to frame a custom as the means of his being\n\"broken in,\" the next step in progress was to break it, and that was a\nfar more difficult matter. Progress was impossible until this was done,\nand how difficult it is to get this step taken observation of the people\nliving in civilized countries will show. But it is in relation to this\nsecond and all important step that one can clearly trace the influence\nof religion. And its influence is completely the reverse of being\nhelpful. For of all the hindrances to a change of custom there is none\nthat act with such force as does religion. This is the case with those\ncustoms with which vested interest has no direct connection, but it\noperates with tenfold force where this exists. Once a custom is\nestablished in a primitive community the conditions of social life\nsurround it with religious beliefs, and thereafter to break it means a\nbreach in the wall of religious observances with which the savage is\nsurrounded. And so soon as we reach the stage of the establishment of a\nregular priesthood, we have to reckon with the operation of a vested\ninterest that has always been keenly alive to anything which affected\nits profit or prestige.\n\nIt would not be right to dismiss the discussion of a subject connected\nwith so well-respected a name as that of Sir James Frazer and leave the\nreader with the impression that he is putting in a plea for current\nreligion. He is not. He hints pretty plainly that his argument that\nreligion has been of some use to the race applies to savage times only.\nWe see this in such sentences as the following: \"More and more, as time\ngoes on, morality shifts its grounds from the sands of superstition to\nthe rock of reason, from the imaginary to the real, from the\nsupernatural to the natural.... The State has found a better reason than\nthese old wives' fables for guarding with the flaming sword of justice\nthe approach to the tree of life,\" and also in saying that, \"If it can\nbe proved that in certain races and at certain times the institutions in\nquestion have been based partly on superstition, it by no means follows\nthat even among these races they have never been based on anything else.\nOn the contrary ... there is a strong presumption that they rest mainly\non something much more solid than superstition.\" In modern times no such\nargument as the one I have been discussing has the least claim to\nlogical force. But that, as we all know, does not prevent its being used\nby full-blown religionists, and by those whose minds are only partly\nliberated from a great historic superstition.\n\nIt will be observed that the plea of Frazer's we have been examining\nargues that the function of religion in social life is of a conservative\ncharacter. And so far he is correct, he is only wrong in assuming it to\nhave been of a beneficial nature. The main function of religion in\nsociology is conservative, not the wise conservatism which supports an\ninstitution or a custom because of its approved value, but of the kind\nthat sees in an established custom a reason for its continuance. Urged,\nin the first instance, by the belief that innumerable spirits are\nforever on the watch, punishing the slightest infraction of their\nwishes, opposition to reform or to new ideas receives definite shape and\nincreased strength by the rise of a priesthood. Henceforth economic\ninterest goes hand in hand with superstitious fears. Whichever way man\nturns he finds artificial obstacles erected. Every deviation from the\nprescribed path is threatened with penalties in this world and the next.\nThe history of every race and of every science tells the same story, and\nthe amount of time and energy that mankind has spent in fighting these\nghosts of its own savage past is the measure of the degree to which\nreligion has kept the race in a state of relative barbarism.\n\nThis function of unreasoning conservatism is not, it must be remembered,\naccidental. It belongs to the very nature of religion. Dependent upon\nthe maintenance of certain primitive conceptions of the world and of\nman, religion dare not encourage new ideas lest it sap its own\nfoundations. Spencer has reminded us that religion is, under the\nconditions of its origin, perfectly rational. That is quite true.[20]\nReligion meets science, when the stage of conflict arises, as an\nopposing interpretation of certain classes of facts. The one\ninterpretation can only grow at the expense of the other. While\nreligion is committed to the explanation of the world in terms of vital\nforce, science is committed to that of non-conscious mechanism.\nOpposition is thus present at the outset, and it must continue to the\nend. The old cannot be maintained without anathematizing the new; the\nnew cannot be established without displacing the old. The conflict is\ninevitable; the antagonism is irreconcilable.\n\n[20] It may with equal truth be said that all beliefs are with a similar\nqualification quite rational. The attempt to divide people into\n\"Rationalists\" and \"Irrationalists\" is quite fallacious and is\nphilosophically absurd. Reason is used in the formation of religious as\nin the formation of non-religious beliefs. The distinction between the\nman who is religious and one who is not, or, if it be preferred, one who\nis superstitious and one who is not, is not that the one reasons and the\nother does not. Both reason. Indeed, the reasoning of the superstitionist\nis often of the most elaborate kind. The distinction is that of one\nhaving false premises, or drawing unwarrantable conclusions from sound\npremises. The only ultimate distinctions are those of religionist and\nnon-religionist, supernaturalist and non-supernaturalist, Theist or\nAtheist. All else are mere matters of compromise, exhibitions of\ntimidity, or illustrations of that confused thinking which itself gives\nrise to religion in all its forms.\n\nIt lies, therefore, in the very nature of the case that religion, as\nreligion, can give no real help to man in the understanding of himself\nand the world. Whatever good religion may appear to do is properly to be\nattributed to the non-religious forces with which it is associated. But\nreligion, being properly concerned with the relations between man and\nmythical supernatural beings, can exert no real influence for good on\nhuman affairs. Far from that being the case, it can easily be shown to\nhave had quite an opposite effect. There is not merely the waste of\nenergy in the direction above indicated, but in many other ways. If we\nconfine ourselves to Christianity some conception of the nature of its\ninfluence may be formed if we think what the state of the world might\nhave been to-day had the work of enlightenment continued from the point\nit had reached under the old Greek and Roman civilizations. Bacon and\nGalileo in their prisons, Bruno and Vanini at the stake are\nillustrations of the disservice that Christianity has done the cause of\ncivilization, and the obstruction it has offered to human well-being.\n\nAgain, consider the incubus placed on human progress by the institution\nof a priesthood devoted to the service of supernatural beings. In the\nfullest and truest sense of the word a priesthood represents a parasitic\ngrowth on the social body. I am not referring to individual members of\nthe priesthood in their capacity as private citizens, but as priests, as\nagents or representatives of the supernatural. And here the truth is\nthat of all the inventions and discoveries that have helped to build up\ncivilization not one of them is owing to the priesthood, as such. One\nmay confidently say that if all the energies of all the priests in the\nwhole world were concentrated on a single community, and all their\nprayers, formulae, and doctrines devoted to the one end, the well-being\nof that community would not be advanced thereby a single iota.\n\nFar and away, the priesthood is the greatest parasitic class the world\nhas known. All over the world, in both savage and civilized times, we\nsee the priesthoods of the world enthroned, we see them enjoying a\nsubsistence wrung from toil through credulity, and from wealth through\nself-interest. From the savage medicine hut up to the modern cathedral\nwe see the earth covered with useless edifices devoted to the foolish\nservice of imaginary deities. We see the priesthood endowed with special\nprivileges, their buildings relieved from the taxes which all citizens\nare compelled to pay, and even special taxes levied upon the public for\ntheir maintenance. The gods may no longer demand the sacrifice of the\nfirst born, but they still demand the sacrifice of time, energy, and\nmoney that might well be applied elsewhere. And the people in every\ncountry, out of their stupidity, continue to maintain a large body of\nmen who, by their whole training and interest, are compelled to act as\nthe enemies of liberty and progress.\n\nIt is useless arguing that the evils that follow religion are not\nproduced by it, that they are casual, and will disappear with a truer\nunderstanding of what religion is. It is not true, and the man who\nargues in that way shows that he does not yet understand what religion\nis. The evils that follow religion are deeply imbedded in the nature of\nreligion itself. All religion takes its rise in error, and vested error\nthreatened with destruction instinctively resorts to force, fraud, and\nimposture, in self defence. The universality of the evils that accompany\nreligion would alone prove that there is more than a mere accident in\nthe association. The whole history of religion is, on the purely\nintellectual side, the history of a delusion. Happily this delusion is\nlosing its hold on the human mind. Year by year its intellectual and\nmoral worthlessness is being more generally recognized. Religion\nexplains nothing, and it does nothing that is useful. Yet in its name\nmillions of pounds are annually squandered and many thousands of men\nwithdrawn from useful labour, and saddled on the rest of the community\nfor maintenance. But here, again, economic and intellectual forces are\ncombining for the liberation of the race from its historic incubus.\nComplete emancipation will not come in a day, but it will come, and its\narrival will mark the close of the greatest revolution that has taken\nplace in the history of the race.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nFREETHOUGHT AND GOD.\n\n\nWhy do people believe in God? If one turns to the pleas of professional\ntheologians there is no lack of answers to the question. These answers\nare both numerous and elaborate, and if quantity and repetition were\nenough, the Freethinker would find himself hopelessly \"snowed under.\"\nBut on examination all these replies suffer from one defect. They should\nante-date the belief, whereas they post-date it. They cannot be the\ncause of belief for the reason that the belief was here long before the\narguments came into existence. Neither singly nor collectively do these\nso-called reasons correspond to the causes that have ever led a single\nperson, at any time or at any place, to believe in a God. If they\nalready believed, the arguments were enough to provide them with\nsufficient justification to go on believing. If they did not already\nbelieve, the arguments were powerless. And never, by any chance, do they\ndescribe the causes that led to the existence of the belief in God,\neither historically or individually. They are, in truth, no more than\nexcuses for continuing to believe. They are never the causes of belief.\n\nThe evidence for the truth of this is at hand in the person of all who\nbelieve. Let one consider, on the one hand, the various arguments for\nthe existence of God--the argument from causation, from design, from\nnecessary existence, etc., then put on the other side the age at which\nmen and women began to believe in deity, and their grasp of arguments of\nthe kind mentioned. There is clearly no relation between the two.\nLeaving on one side the question of culture, it is at once apparent that\nlong before the individual is old enough to appreciate in the slightest\ndegree the nature of the arguments advanced he is already a believer.\nAnd if he is not a believer in his early years, he is never one when he\nreaches maturity, certainly not in a civilized society. And when we turn\nfrom the individual Goddite to Goddites in the mass, the assumption that\nthey owe their belief to the philosophical arguments advanced becomes\ngrotesque in its absurdity. To assume that the average Theist, whose\nphilosophy is taken from the daily newspaper and the weekly sermon,\nderives his conviction from a series of abstruse philosophical arguments\nis simply ridiculous. Those who are honest to themselves will admit that\nthey were taught the belief long before they were old enough to bring\nany real criticism to bear upon it. It was the product of their early\neducation, impressed upon them by their parents, and all the \"reasons\"\nthat are afterwards alleged in justification are only pleas why they\nshould not be disturbed in their belief.\n\nAre we in any better position if we turn from the individual to the\nrace? Is the belief in God similar to, say, the belief in gravitation,\nwhich, discovered by a genius, and resting upon considerations which the\nordinary person finds too abstruse to thoroughly understand, becomes a\npart of our education, and is accepted upon well established authority?\nAgain, the facts are dead against such an assumption. It is with the\nrace as with the individual. Science and philosophy do not precede the\nbelief in God and provide the foundation for it, they succeed it and\nlead to its modification and rejection. We are, in this respect, upon\nvery solid ground. In some form or another the belief in God, or gods,\nbelongs to very early states of human society. Savages have it long\nbefore they have the slightest inkling of what we moderns would call a\nscientific conception of the world. And to assume that the savage, as we\nknow him, began to believe in his gods because of a number of scientific\nreasons, such as the belief in universal causation, or any of the other\nprofound speculations with which the modern theologian beclouds the\nissue, is as absurd as to attribute the belief of the Salvation Army\npreacher to philosophical speculations. Added to which we may note that\nthe savage is a severely practical person. He is not at all interested\nin metaphysics, and his contributions to the discussions of a\nphilosophical society would be of a very meagre character. His problem\nis to deal with the concrete difficulties of his everyday life, and when\nhe is able to do this he is content.\n\nBut, on the other hand, we know that our own belief in God is descended\nfrom his belief. We know that we can trace it back without a break\nthrough generations of social culture, until we reach the savage stage\nof social existence. It is he who, so to speak, discovers God, he\nestablishes it as a part of the social institutions that govern the\nlives of every member of the group; we find it in our immaturity\nestablished as one of those many thought-forms which determine so\npowerfully our intellectual development. The belief in God meets each\nnewcomer into the social arena. It is impressed upon each in a thousand\nand one different ways, and it is only when the belief is challenged by\nan opposing system of thought that philosophical theories are elaborated\nin its defence.\n\nThe possibility of deriving the idea of God from scientific and\nphilosophic thought being ruled out, what remains? The enquiry from\nbeing philosophical becomes historical. That is, instead of discussing\nwhether there are sufficient reasons for justifying the belief in God,\nwe are left with the question of determining the causes that led people\nto ever regard the belief as being solidly based upon fact. It is a\nquestion of history, or rather, one may say, of anthropology of the\nmental history of man. When we read of some poor old woman who has been\npersecuted for bewitching someone's cattle or children we no longer\nsettle down to discuss whether witchcraft rests upon fact or not; we\nknow it does not, and our sole concern is to discover the conditions,\nmental and social, which enabled so strange a belief to flourish. The\nexamination of evidence--the legal aspect--thus gives place to the\nhistorical, and the historical finally resolves itself into the\npsychological. For what we are really concerned with in an examination\nof the idea of God is the discovery and reconstruction of those states\nof mind which gave the belief birth. And that search is far easier and\nthe results far more conclusive than many imagine.\n\nIn outlining this evidence it will only be necessary to present its\ngeneral features. This for two reasons. First, because a multiplicity of\ndetail is apt to hide from the general reader many of the essential\nfeatures of the truth; secondly, the fact of a difference of opinion\nconcerning the time order of certain stages in the history of the\ngod-idea is likely to obscure the fact of the unanimity which exists\namong all those qualified to express an authoritative opinion as to the\nnature of the conditions that have given the idea birth. The various\ntheories of the sequence of the different phases of the religious idea\nshould no more blind us to the fact that there exists a substantial\nagreement that the belief in gods has its roots in the fear and\nignorance of uncivilized mankind, than the circumstance that there is\ngoing on among biologists a discussion as to the machinery of evolution\nshould overshadow the fact that evolution itself is a demonstrated\ntruth which no competent observer questions.\n\nIn an earlier chapter we have already indicated the essential conditions\nwhich lead to the origin of religious beliefs, and there is no need\nagain to go over that ground. What is necessary at present is to sketch\nas briefly as is consistent with lucidity those frames of mind to which\nthe belief in God owes its existence.\n\nTo realize this no very recondite instrument of research is required. We\nneed nothing more elaborate than the method by which we are hourly in\nthe habit of estimating each other's thoughts, and of gauging one\nanother's motives. When I see a man laugh I assume that he is pleased;\nwhen he frowns I assume that he is angry. There is here only an\napplication of the generally accepted maxim that when we see identical\nresults we are warranted in assuming identical causes. In this way we\ncan either argue from causes to effects or from effects to causes. A\nfurther statement of the same principle is that when we are dealing with\nbiological facts we may assume that identical structures imply identical\nfunctions. The structure of a dead animal will tell us what its\nfunctions were when living as certainly as though we had the living\nanimal in front of us. We may relate function to structure or structure\nto function. And in this we are using nothing more uncommon than the\naccepted principle of universal causation.\n\nNow, in all thinking there are two factors. There is the animal or human\nbrain, the organ of thought, and there is the material for thought as\nrepresented by the existing knowledge of the world. If we had an exact\nknowledge of the kind of brain that functioned, and the exact quantity\nand quality of the knowledge existing, the question as to the ideas\nwhich would result would be little more than a problem in mathematics.\nWe could make the calculation with the same assurance that an\nastronomer can estimate the position of a planet a century hence. In the\ncase of primitive mankind we do not possess anything like the exact\nknowledge one would wish, but we do know enough to say in rather more\nthan a general way the kind of thinking of which our earliest ancestors\nwere capable, and what were its products. We can get at the machinery of\nthe primitive brain, and can estimate its actions, and that without\ngoing further than we do when we assume that primitive man was hungry\nand thirsty, was pleased and angry, loved and feared. And, indeed, it\nwas because he experienced fear and pleasure and love and hate that the\ngods came into existence.\n\nOf the factors which determine the kind of thinking one does, we know\nenough to say that there were two things certain of early mankind. We\nknow the kind of thinking of which he was capable, and we have a general\nnotion of the material existing for thinking. Speaking of one of these\nearly ancestors of ours, Professor Arthur Keith says, \"Piltdown man saw,\nheard, felt, thought and dreamt much as we do,\" that is, there was the\nsame _kind_ of brain at work that is at work now. And that much we could\nbe sure of by going no farther back than the savages of to-day. But as\nsize of brain is not everything, we are warranted in saying that the\nbrain was of a relatively simple type, while the knowledge of the world\nwhich existed, and which gives us the material for thinking, was of a\nvery imperfect and elementary character. There was great ignorance, and\nthere was great fear. From these two conditions, ignorance and fear,\nsprang the gods. Of that there is no doubt whatever. There is scarcely a\nwork which deals with the life of primitive peoples to-day that does not\nemphasize that fact. Consciously or unconsciously it cannot avoid doing\nso. Long ago a Latin writer hit on this truth in the well-known saying,\n\"Fear made the gods,\" and Aristotle expressed the same thing in a more\ncomprehensive form by saying that fear first set man philosophizing. The\nundeveloped mind troubles little about things so long as they are going\nsmoothly and comfortably. It is when something painful happens that\nconcern is awakened. And all the gods of primitive life bear this primal\nstamp of fear. That is why religion, with its persistent harking back to\nthe primitive, with its response to the \"Call of the Wild\" still dwells\nupon the fear of the Lord as a means of arousing a due sense of piety.\nThe gods fatten on fear as a usurer does upon the folly of his clients,\nand in both cases the interest demanded far outweighs the value of the\nservices rendered. At a later stage man faces his gods in a different\nspirit; he loses his fear and examines them; and gods that are not\nfeared are but poor things. They exist mainly as indisputable records of\ntheir own deterioration.\n\nNow to primitive man, struggling along in a world of which he was so\ncompletely ignorant, the one certain thing was that the world was alive.\nThe wind that roared, the thunder that growled, the disease that left\nhim so mysteriously stricken, were all so many living things. The\ndivision of these living forces into good and bad followed naturally\nfrom this first conception of their nature. And whatever be the stages\nof that process the main lines admit of no question, nor is there any\nquestion as to the nature of the conditions that brought the gods into\nexistence. On any scientific theory of religion the gods represent no\nmore than the personified ignorance and fear of primitive humanity.\nHowever much anthropologists may differ as to whether the god always\noriginates from the ghost or not, whether animism is first and the\nworship of the ghost secondary or not, there is agreement on that\npoint. Whichever theory we care to embrace, the broad fact is generally\nadmitted that the gods are the products of ignorance and fear. Man fears\nthe gods as children and even animals fear the unknown and the\ndangerous.\n\nAnd as the gods are born of conditions such as those outlined, as man\nreads his own feelings and passions and desires into nature, so we find\nthat the early gods are frankly, obtrusively, man-like. The gods are\ncopies of their worshippers, faithful reflections of those who fear\nthem. This, indeed, remains true to the end. When the stage is reached\nthat the idea of God as a physical counterpart of man becomes repulsive,\nit is still unable to shake off this anthropomorphic element. To the\nmodern worshipper God must not possess a body, but he must have love,\nand intelligence--as though the mental qualities of man are less human\nthan the bodily ones! They are as human as arms or legs. And every\nreason that will justify the rejection of the conception of the universe\nbeing ruled over by a being who is like man in his physical aspects is\nequally conclusive against believing the universe to be ruled over by a\nbeing who resembles man in his mental characteristics. The one belief is\na survival of the other; and the one would not now be accepted had not\nthe other been believed in beforehand.\n\nI have deliberately refrained from discussing the various arguments put\nforward to justify the belief in God in order that attention should not\nbe diverted from the main point, which is that the belief in deity owes\nits existence to the ignorant interpretation of natural happenings by\nearly or uncivilized mankind. Everything here turns logically on the\nquestion of origin. If the belief in God began in the way I have\noutlined, the question of veracity may be dismissed. The question is\none of origin only. It is not a question of man first seeing a thing but\ndimly and then getting a clearer vision as his knowledge becomes more\nthorough. It is a question of a radical misunderstanding of certain\nexperiences, the vogue of an altogether wrong interpretation, and its\ndisplacement by an interpretation of a quite different nature. The god\nof the savage was in the nature of an inference drawn from the world of\nthe savage. There was the admitted premiss and there was the obvious\nconclusion. But with us the premiss no longer exists. We deliberately\nreject it as being altogether unwarrantable. And we cannot reject the\npremiss while retaining the conclusion. Logically, the god of the savage\ngoes with the world of the savage; it should have no place in the mind\nof the really civilized human being.\n\nIt is for this reason that I am leaving on one side all those\nsemi-metaphysical and pseudo-philosophical arguments that are put\nforward to justify the belief in God. As I have already said, they are\nmerely excuses for continuing a belief that has no real warranty in\nfact. No living man or woman believes in God because of any such\nargument. We have the belief in God with us to-day for the same reason\nthat we have in our bodies a number of rudimentary structures. As the\none is reminiscent of an earlier stage of existence so is the other. To\nuse the expressive phrase of Winwood Reade's, we have tailed minds as\nwell as tailed bodies. The belief in God meets each newcomer to the\nsocial sphere. It is forced upon them before they are old enough to\noffer effective resistance in the shape of acquired knowledge that would\nrender its lodgement in the mind impossible. Afterwards, the dice of\nsocial power and prestige are loaded in its favour, while the mental\ninertia of some, and the self-interest of others, give force to the\narguments which I have called mere mental subterfuges for perpetuating\nthe belief in God.\n\nOnly one other remark need be made. In the beginning the gods exist as\nthe apotheosis of ignorance. The reason the savage had for believing in\nGod was that he did not know the real causes of the phenomena around\nhim. And that remains the reason why people believe in deity to-day.\nUnder whatever guise the belief is presented, analysis brings it\nultimately to that. The whole history of the human mind, in relation to\nthe idea of God, shows that so soon as man discovers the natural causes\nof any phenomenon or group of phenomena the idea of God dies out in\nconnection therewith. God is only conceived as a cause or as an\nexplanation so long as no other cause or explanation is forthcoming. In\ncommon speech and in ordinary thought we only bring in the name of God\nwhere uncertainty exists, never where knowledge is obtainable. We pray\nto God to cure a fever, but never to put on again a severed limb. We\nassociate God with the production of a good harvest, but not with a\nbetter coal output. We use \"God only knows\" as the equivalent of our own\nignorance, and call on God for help only where our own helplessness is\nmanifest. The idea remains true to itself throughout. Born in ignorance\nand cradled in fear, it makes its appeal to the same elements to the\nend. And if it apes the language of philosophy, it does so only as do\nthose who purchase a ready-made pedigree in order to hide the obscurity\nof their origin.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nFREETHOUGHT AND DEATH.\n\n\nIn the early months of the European war a mortally wounded British\nsoldier was picked up between the lines, after lying there unattended\nfor two days. He died soon after he was brought in, and one of his last\nrequests was that a copy of Ruskin's _Crown of Wild Olive_ should be\nburied with him. He said the book had been with him all the time he had\nbeen in France, it had given him great comfort, and he wished it to be\nburied with him. Needless to say, his wish was carried out, and\n\"somewhere in France\" there lies a soldier with a copy of the _Crown of\nWild Olive_ clasped to his breast.\n\nThere is another story, of a commoner character, which, although\ndifferent in form, is wholly similar in substance. This tells of the\nsoldier who in his last moments asks to see a priest, accepts his\nministrations with thankfulness, and dies comforted with the repetition\nof familiar formulae and customary prayers. In the one case a Bible and\na priest; in the other a volume of lectures by one of the masters of\nEnglish prose. The difference is, at first, striking, but there is an\nunderlying agreement, and they may be used together to illustrate a\nsingle psychological principle.\n\nFreethinker and Christian read the record of both cases, but it is the\nFreethinker alone whose philosophy of life is wide enough to explain\nboth. The Freethinker knows that the feeling of comfort and the fact of\ntruth are two distinct things. They may coalesce, but they may be as\nfar asunder as the poles. A delusion may be as consoling as a reality\nprovided it be accepted as genuine. The soldier with his copy of Ruskin\ndoes not prove the truth of the teachings of the _Crown of Wild Olive_,\ndoes not prove that Ruskin said the last word or even the truest word on\nthe subjects dealt with therein. Neither does the consolation which\nreligion gives some people prove the truth of its teachings. The comfort\nwhich religion brings is a product of the belief in religion. The\nconsolation that comes from reading a volume of essays is a product of\nthe conviction of the truth of the message delivered, or a sense of the\nbeauty of the language in which the book is written. Both cases\nillustrate the power of belief, and that no Freethinker was ever stupid\nenough to question. The finest literature in the world would bring small\ncomfort to a man who was convinced that he stood in deadly need of a\npriest, and the presence of a priest would be quite useless to a man who\nbelieved that all the religions of the world were so many geographical\nabsurdities. Comfort does not produce conviction, it follows it. The\ntruth and the social value of convictions are quite distinct questions.\n\nThere is here a confusion of values, and for this we have to thank the\ninfluence of the Churches. Because the service of the priest is sought\nby some we are asked to believe that it is necessary to all. But the\nessential value of a thing is shown, not by the number of people who get\non with it, but by the number that can get on without it. The canon of\nagreement and difference is applicable whether we are dealing with human\nnature or conducting an ordinary scientific experiment. Thus, the\nindispensability of meat-eating is not shown by the number of people who\nswear that they cannot work without it, but by noting how people fare in\nits absence. The drinker does not confound the abstainer; it is the\nother way about. In the same way there is nothing of evidential value in\nthe protests of those who say that human nature cannot get along without\nreligion. We have to test the statement by the cases where religion is\nabsent. And here, it is not the Christian that confounds the\nFreethinker, it is the Freethinker who confounds the Christian. If the\nreligious view of life is correct the Freethinker should be a very rare\nbird indeed; he should be clearly recognizable as a departure from the\nnormal type, and, in fact, he was always so represented in religious\nliterature until he disproved the legend by multiplying himself with\nconfusing rapidity. Now it is the Freethinker who will not fit into the\nChristian scheme of things. It is puzzling to see what can be done with\na man who repudiates the religious idea in theory and fact, root and\nbranch, and yet appears to be getting on quite well in its absence. That\nis the awkward fact that will not fit in with the religious theory. And,\nother things equal, one man without religion is greater evidential value\nthan five hundred with it. All the five hundred prove at the most is\nthat human nature can get on with religion, but the one case proves that\nhuman nature can get on without it, and that challenges the whole\nreligious position. And unless we take up the rather absurd position\nthat the non-religious man is a sheer abnormality, this consideration at\nonce reduces religion from a necessity to a luxury or a dissipation.\n\nThe bearing of this on our attitude towards such a fact as death should\nbe obvious. During the European war death from being an ever-present\nfact became an obtrusive one. Day after day we received news of the\ndeath of friend or relative, and those who escaped that degree of\nintimacy with the unpleasant visitor, met him in the columns of the\ndaily press. And the Christian clergy would have been untrue to their\ntraditions and to their interests--and there is no corporate body more\nalert in these directions--if they had not tried to exploit the\nsituation to the utmost. There was nothing new in the tactics employed,\nit was the special circumstances that gave them a little more force than\nwas usual. The following, for example, may be accepted as typical:--\n\n     The weight of our sorrow is immensely lightened if we can feel sure\n     that one whom we have loved and lost has but ascended to spheres of\n     further development, education, service, achievement, where, by and\n     by, we shall rejoin him.\n\nQuite a common statement, and one which by long usage has become almost\nimmune from criticism. And yet it has about as much relation to fact as\nhave the stories of death-bed conversions, or of people dying and\nshrieking for Jesus to save them. One may, indeed, apply a rough and\nready test by an appeal to facts. How many cases has the reader of these\nlines come across in which religion has made people calmer and more\nresigned in the presence of death than others have been who were quite\ndestitute of belief in religion? Of course, religious folk will repeat\nreligious phrases, they will attend church, they will listen to the\nministrations of their favourite clergyman, and they will say that their\nreligion brings them comfort. But if one gets below the stereotyped\nphraseology and puts on one side also the sophisticated attitude in\nrelation to religion, one quite fails to detect any respect in which the\nFreethinking parent differs from the Christian one. Does the religious\nparent grieve less? Does he bear the blow with greater fortitude? Is his\ngrief of shorter duration? To anyone who will open his eyes the talk of\nthe comfort of religion will appear to be largely cant. There are\ndifferences due to character, to temperament, to training; there is a\nuse of traditional phrases in the one case that is absent in the other,\nbut the incidence of a deep sorrow only serves to show how superficial\nare the vapourings of religion to a civilized mind, and how each one of\nus is thrown back upon those deeper feelings that are inseparable from a\ncommon humanity. The thought of an only son who is living with the\nangels brings no real solace to a parent's mind. Whatever genuine\ncomfort is available must come from the thought of a life that has been\nwell lived, from the sympathetic presence of friends, from the silent\nhandclasp, which on such occasions is so often more eloquent than\nspeech--in a word, from those healing currents that are part and parcel\nof the life of the race. A Freethinker can easily appreciate the\nreadiness of a clergyman to help a mind that is suffering from a great\nsorrow, but it is the deliberate exploitation of human grief in the name\nand in the interests of religion, the manufacturing of cases of\ndeath-bed consolation and repentance, the citation of evidence to which\nthe experience of all gives the lie, that fill one with a feeling akin\nto disgust.\n\nThe writer from whom I have quoted says:--\n\n     It is, indeed, possible for people who are Agnostic or unbelieving\n     with regard to immortality to give themselves wholly to the pursuit\n     of truth and to the service of their fellowmen, in moral\n     earnestness and heroic endeavour; they may endure pain and sorrow\n     with calm resignation, and toil on in patience and perseverance.\n     The best of the ancient Stoics did so, and many a modern Agnostic\n     is doing so to-day.\n\nThe significance of such a statement is in no wise diminished by the\naccompanying qualification that Freethinkers are \"missing a joy which\nwould have been to them a well-spring of courage and strength.\" That is\na pure assumption. They who are without religious belief are conscious\nof no lack of courage, and they are oppressed by no feeling of despair.\nOn this their own statement must be taken as final. Moreover, they are\nspeaking as, in the main, those who are fully acquainted with the\nChristian position, having once occupied it. They are able to measure\nthe relative value of the two positions. The Christian has no such\nexperience to guide him. In the crises of life the behaviour of the\nFreethinker is at least as calm and as courageous as that of the\nChristian. And it may certainly be argued that a serene resignation in\nthe presence of death is quite as valuable as the hectic emotionalism of\ncultivated religious belief.\n\nWhat, after all, is there in the fact of natural death that should breed\nirresolution, rob us of courage, or fill us with fear? Experience proves\nthere are many things that people dread more than death, and will even\nseek death rather than face, or, again, there are a hundred and one\nthings to obtain which men and women will face death without fear. And\nthis readiness to face or seek death does not seem to be at all\ndetermined by religious belief. The millions of men who faced death\nduring the war were not determined in their attitude by their faith in\nreligious dogmas. If questioned they might, in the majority of cases,\nsay that they believed in a future life, and also that they found it a\nsource of strength, but it would need little reflection to assess the\nreply at its true value. And as a racial fact, the fear of death is a\nnegative quality. The positive aspect is the will to live, and that may\nbe seen in operation in the animal world as well as in the world of man.\nBut this has no reference, not even the remotest, to a belief in a\nfuture life. There are no \"Intimations of Immortality\" here. There is\nsimply one of the conditions of animal survival, developed in man to\nthe point at which its further strengthening would become a threat to\nthe welfare of the species. The desire to live is one of the conditions\nthat secures the struggle to live, and a species of animals in which\nthis did not exist would soon go under before a more virile type. And it\nis one of the peculiarities of religious reasoning that a will to live\nhere should be taken as clear proof of a desire to live somewhere else.\n\nThe fear of death could never be a powerful factor in life; existence\nwould be next to impossible if it were. It would rob the organism of its\ndaring, its tenacity, and ultimately divest life itself of value.\nAgainst that danger we have an efficient guard in the operation of\nnatural selection. In the animal world there is no fear of death, there\nis, in fact, no reason to assume that there exists even a consciousness\nof death. And with man, when reflection and knowledge give birth to that\nconsciousness, there arises a strong other regarding instinct which\neffectively prevents it assuming a too positive or a too dangerous form.\nFear of death is, in brief, part of the jargon of priestcraft. The\npriest has taught it the people because it was to his interest to do so.\nAnd the jargon retains a certain currency because it is only the\nminority that rise above the parrot-like capacity to repeat current\nphrases, or who ever make an attempt to analyse their meaning and\nchallenge their veracity.\n\nThe positive fear of death is largely an acquired mental attitude. In\nits origin it is largely motived by religion. Generally speaking there\nis no very great fear of death among savages, and among the pagans of\nold Greece and Rome there was none of that abject fear of death that\nbecame so common with the establishment of Christianity. To the pagan,\ndeath was a natural fact, sad enough, but not of necessity terrible. Of\nthe Greek sculptures representing death Professor Mahaffy says: \"They\nare simple pictures of the grief of parting, of the recollection of\npleasant days of love and friendship, of the gloom of an unknown future.\nBut there is no exaggeration in the picture.\" Throughout Roman\nliterature also there runs the conception of death as the necessary\ncomplement of life. Pliny puts this clearly in the following: \"Unto all,\nthe state of being after the last day is the same as it was before the\nfirst day of life; neither is there any more variation of it in either\nbody or soul after death than there was before death.\" Among the\nuneducated there does appear to have been some fear of death, and one\nmay assume that with some of even of the educated this was not\naltogether absent. It may also be assumed that it was to this type of\nmind that Christianity made its first appeal, and upon which it rested\nits nightmare-like conception of death and the after-life. On this\nmatter the modern mind can well appreciate the attitude of Lucretius,\nwho saw the great danger in front of the race and sought to guard men\nagainst it by pointing out the artificiality of the fear of death and\nthe cleansing effect of genuine knowledge.\n\n    So shalt thou feed on Death who feeds on men,\n    And Death once dead there's no more dying then.\n\nThe policy of Christianity was the belittling of this life and an\nexaggeration of the life after death, with a boundless exaggeration of\nthe terrors that awaited the unwary and the unfaithful. The state of\nknowledge under Christian auspices made this task easy enough. Of the\nmediaeval period Mr. Lionel Cust, in his _History of Engraving during\nthe Fifteenth Century_, says:--\n\n     The keys of knowledge, as of salvation, were entirely in the hands\n     of the Church, and the lay public, both high and low, were,\n     generally speaking, ignorant and illiterate. One of the secrets of\n     the great power exercised by the Church lay in its ability to\n     represent the life of man as environed from the outset by legions\n     of horrible and insidious demons, who beset his path throughout\n     life at every stage up to his very last breath, and are eminently\n     active and often triumphant when man's fortitude is undermined by\n     sickness, suffering, and the prospect of dissolution.\n\nF. Parkes Weber also points out that, \"It was in mediaeval Europe, under\nthe auspices of the Catholic Church, that descriptions of hell began to\ntake on their most horrible aspects.\"[21] So, again, we have Sir James\nFrazer pointing out that the fear of death is not common to the lower\nraces, and \"Among the causes which thus tend to make us cowards may be\nnumbered the spread of luxury and the doctrines of a gloomy theology,\nwhich by proclaiming the eternal damnation and excruciating torments of\nthe vast majority of mankind has added incalculably to the dread and\nhorror of death.\"[22]\n\n[21] _Aspects of Death in Art and Epigram_, p. 28.\n\n[22] _Golden Bough_, Vol. IV., p. 136.\n\nNo religion has emphasized the terror of death as Christianity has done,\nand in the truest sense, no religion has so served to make men such\ncowards in its presence. Upon that fear a large part of the power of the\nChristian Church has been built, and men having become so obsessed with\nthe fear of death and what lay beyond, it is not surprising that they\nshould turn to the Church for some measure of relief. The poisoner thus\ndid a lucrative trade by selling a doubtful remedy for his own toxic\npreparation. More than anything else the fear of death and hell laid the\nfoundation of the wealth and power of the Christian Church. If it drew\nits authority from God, it derived its profit from the devil. The two\ntruths that emerge from a sober and impartial study of Christian history\nare that the power of the Church was rooted in death and that it\nflourished in dishonour.\n\nIt was Christianity, and Christianity alone that made death so abiding a\nterror to the European mind. And society once Christianized, the\nuneducated could find no adequate corrective from the more educated. The\nbaser elements which existed in the Pagan world were eagerly seized upon\nby the Christian writers and developed to their fullest extent. Some of\nthe Pagan writers had speculated, in a more or less fanciful spirit, on\na hell of a thousand years. Christianity stretched it to eternity.\nPre-Christianity had reserved the miseries of the after-life for adults.\nChristian writers paved the floor of hell with infants, \"scarce a span\nlong.\" Plutarch and other Pagan moralists had poured discredit upon the\npopular notions of a future life. Christianity reaffirmed them with all\nthe exaggerations of a diseased imagination. The Pagans held that death\nwas as normal and as natural as life. Christianity returned to the\nconception current among savages and depicted death as a penal\ninfliction. The Pagan art of living was superseded by the Christian art\nof dying. Human ingenuity exhausted itself in depicting the terrors of\nthe future life, and when one remembers the powers of the Church, and\nthe murderous manner in which it exercised them, there is small wonder\nthat under the auspices of the Church the fear of death gained a\nstrength it had never before attained.\n\nSmall wonder, then, that we still have with us the talk of the comfort\nthat Christianity brings in the face of death. Where the belief in the\nChristian after-life really exists, the retention of a conviction of the\nsaving power of Christianity is a condition of sanity. Where the belief\ndoes not really exist, we are fronted with nothing but a parrot-like\nrepetition of familiar phrases. The Christian talk of comfort is thus,\non either count, no more than a product of Christian education.\nChristianity does not make men brave in the presence of death, that is\nno more than a popular superstition. What it does is to cover a natural\nfact with supernatural terrors, and then exploit a frame of mind that it\nhas created. The comfort is only necessary so long as the special belief\nis present. Remove that belief and death takes its place as one of the\ninevitable facts of existence, surrounded with all the sadness of a last\nfarewell, but rid of all the terror that has been created by religion.\n\nOur dying soldier, asking for a copy of the _Crown of Wild Olive_ to be\nburied with him, and the other who calls for priestly ministrations,\nrepresent, ultimately, two different educational results. The one is a\nproduct of an educational process applied during the darkest periods of\nEuropean history, and perpetuated by a training that has been mainly\ndirected by the self-interest of a class. The other represents an\neducational product which stands as the triumph of the pressure of life\nover artificial dogmas. The Freethinker, because he is a Freethinker,\nneeds none of those artificial stimulants for which the Christian\ncraves. And he pays him the compliment--in spite of his protests--of\nbelieving that without his religion the Christian would display as much\nmanliness in the face of death as he does himself. He believes there is\nplenty of healthy human nature in the average Christian, and the\nFreethinker merely begs him to give it a chance of finding expression.\nIn this matter, it must be observed, the Freethinker makes no claim to\nsuperiority over the Christian; it is the Christian who forces that\nclaim upon him. The Freethinker does not assume that the difference\nbetween himself and the Christian is nearly so great as the latter would\nhave him believe. He believes that what is dispensable by the one,\nwithout loss, is dispensable by the other. If Freethinkers can devote\nthemselves to \"the pursuit of truth and the service of their fellow\nmen,\" if they can \"endure pain and sorrow with calm resignation,\" if\nthey live with honour and face death without fear, I see no reason why\nthe Christian should not be able to reach the same level of development.\nIt is paying the Freethinker a \"violent compliment,\" to use an\nexpression of John Wesley's, to place him upon a level of excellence\nthat is apparently so far above that of the average Christian. As a\nFreethinker, I decline to accept it. I believe that what the Freethinker\nis, the Christian may well become. He, too, may learn to do his duty\nwithout the fear of hell or the hope of heaven. All that is required is\nthat he shall give his healthier instincts an opportunity for\nexpression.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nTHIS WORLD AND THE NEXT.\n\n\nIn the preceding chapter I have only discussed the fact of death in\nrelation to a certain attitude of mind. The question of the survival of\nthe human personality after death is a distinct question and calls for\nseparate treatment. Nor is the present work one in which that topic can\nbe treated at adequate length. The most that can now be attempted is a\nbird's eye view of a large field of controversy, although it may be\npossible in the course of that survey to say something on the more\nimportant aspects of the subject.\n\nAnd first we may notice the curious assumption that the man who argues\nfor immortality is taking a lofty view of human nature, while he who\nargues against it is taking a low one. In sober truth it is the other\nway about. Consider the position. It is tacitly admitted that if human\nmotive, considered with reference to this world alone, is adequate as an\nincentive to action, and the consequences of actions, again considered\nwith reference to this world, are an adequate reward for endeavour, then\nit is agreed that the main argument for the belief in immortality breaks\ndown. To support or to establish the argument it is necessary to show\nthat life divorced from the conception of a future life can never reach\nthe highest possible level. Natural human society is powerless in itself\nto realize its highest possibilities. It remains barren of what it might\nbe, a thing that may frame ideals, but can never realize them.\n\nNow that is quite an intelligible, and, therefore, an arguable\nproposition. But whether true or not, there should be no question that\nit involves a lower view of human nature than the one taken by the\nFreethinker. He does at least pay human nature the compliment of\nbelieving it capable, not alone of framing high ideals, but also of\nrealizing them. He says that by itself it is capable of realizing all\nthat may be legitimately demanded from it. He does not believe that\nsupernatural hopes or fears are necessary to induce man to live cleanly,\nor die serenely, or to carry out properly his duties to his fellows. The\nreligionist denies this, and asserts that some form of supernaturalism\nis essential to the moral health of men and women. If the Freethinker is\nwrong, it is plain that his fault consists in taking a too optimistic\nview of human nature. His mistake consists in taking not a low view of\nhuman nature, but a lofty one. Substantially, the difference between the\ntwo positions is the difference between the man who is honest from a\nconviction of the value of honesty, and the one who refrains from\nstealing because he feels certain of detection, or because he is afraid\nof losing something that he might otherwise gain. Thus, we are told by\none writer that:--\n\n     If human life is but a by-product of the unconscious play of\n     physical force, like a candle flame soon to be blown out or burnt\n     out, what a paltry thing it is!\n\nBut the questions of where human life came from, or where it will end,\nare quite apart from the question of the value and capabilities of human\nlife now. That there are immense possibilities in this life none but a\nfool will deny. The world is full of strange and curious things, and its\npleasures undoubtedly outweigh its pains in the experience of normal man\nor woman. But the relations between ourselves and others remain\ncompletely unaffected by the termination of existence at the grave, or\nits continuation beyond. It is quite a defensible proposition that life\nis not worth living. So is the reverse of the proposition. But it is\nnonsense to say that life is a \"paltry thing\" merely because it ends at\nthe grave. It is unrestricted egotism manifesting itself in the form of\nreligious conviction. One might as well argue that a sunset ceases to be\nbeautiful because it does not continue all night.\n\nIf I cannot live for ever, then is the universe a failure! That is\nreally all that the religious argument amounts to. And so to state it,\nto reduce it to plain terms, and divest it of its disguising verbiage,\nalmost removes the need for further refutation. But it is seldom stated\nin so plain and so unequivocal a manner. It is accompanied with much\ntalk of growth, of an evolutionary purpose, of ruined lives made good,\nthus:\n\n     Seeing that man is the goal towards which everything has tended\n     from the beginning, seeing that the same eternal and infinite\n     Energy has laboured through the ages at the production of man, and\n     man is the heir of the ages, nothing conceivable seems too great or\n     glorious to believe concerning his destiny.... If there is no limit\n     to human growth in knowledge and wisdom, in love and constructive\n     power, in beauty and joy, we are invested with a magnificent worth\n     and dignity.\n\nSo fallacy and folly run on. What, for example, does anyone mean by man\nas the goal towards which everything has tended since the beginning?\nWhatever truth there is in the statement applies to all things without\nexception. It is as true of the microbe as it is of man. If the\n\"infinite and eternal Energy\" laboured to produce man, it laboured also\nto produce the microbe which destroys him. The one is here as well as\nthe other; and one can conceive a religious microbe thanking an almighty\none for having created it, and declaring that unless it is to live for\never in some microbic heaven, with a proper supply of human beings for\nits nourishment, the whole scheme of creation is a failure. It is quite\na question of the point of view. As a matter of fact there are no \"ends\"\nin nature. There are only results, and each result becomes a factor in\nsome further result. It is human folly and ignorance which makes an end\nof a consequence.\n\nAfter all, what reason is there for anyone assuming that the survival of\nman beyond the grave is even probably true? We do not know man as a\n\"soul\" first and a body afterwards. Neither do we know him as a detached\n\"mind\" which afterwards takes possession of a body. Our knowledge of man\ncommences with him, as does our knowledge of any animal, as a body\npossessing certain definite functions of which we call one group mental.\nAnd the two things are so indissolubly linked that we cannot even think\nof them as separate. If anyone doubts this let him try and picture to\nhimself what a man is like in the absence of a body. He will find the\nthing simply inconceivable. In the absence of the material organism, to\nwhich the mind unquestionably stands in the relation of function to\norgan, what remains is a mere blank. To the informed mind, that is. To\nthe intelligence of the savage, who is led, owing to his erroneous\nconception of things, to think of something inside the body which leaves\nit during sleep, wanders about, and then returns on awakening, and who\nbecause of this affiliates sleep to death, the case may be different.\nBut to a modern mind, one which is acquainted with something of what\nscience has to say on the subject, the conception of a mind existing\napart from organization is simply unthinkable. All our knowledge is\nagainst it. The development of mind side by side with the development of\nthe brain and the nervous system is one of the commonplaces of\nscientific knowledge. The treatment of states of mind as functions of\nthe brain and the nervous system is a common-place of medical practice.\nAnd the fact that diet, temperature, health and disease, accidents and\nold age, all have their effects on mental manifestations is matter of\neveryday observation. The whole range of positive science may safely be\nchallenged to produce a single indisputable fact in favour of the\nassumption that there exists anything about man independent of the\nmaterial organism.\n\nAll that can be urged in favour of such a belief is that there are still\nmany obscure facts which we are not altogether able to explain on a\npurely mechanistic theory. But that is a confession of ignorance, not an\naffirmation of knowledge. At any rate, there does not exist a single\nfact against the functional theory of mind. All we _know_ is decidedly\nin its favour, and a theory must be tested by what we know and by what\nit explains, not by what we do not know or by what it cannot explain.\nAnd there is here the additional truth that the only ground upon which\nthe theory can be opposed is upon certain metaphysical assumptions which\nare made in order to bolster up an already existing belief. If the\nbelief in survival had not been already in existence these assumptions\nwould never have been made. They are not suggested by the facts, they\nare invented to support an already established theory, which can no\nlonger appeal to the circumstances which gave it birth.\n\nAnd about those circumstance there is no longer the slightest reason for\njustifiable doubt. We can trace the belief in survival after death\nuntil we see it commencing in the savage belief in a double that takes\nits origin in the phenomena of dreaming and unusual mental states. It is\nfrom that starting point that the belief in survival takes its place as\nan invariable element in the religions of the world. And as we trace the\nevolution of knowledge we see every fact upon which was built the belief\nin a double that survived death gradually losing its hold on the human\nintelligence, owing to the fact that the experiences that gave it birth\nare interpreted in a manner which allows no room for the religious\ntheory. The fatal fact about the belief in survival is its history. That\nhistory shows us how it began, as surely as the course of its evolution\nindicates the way in which it will end.\n\nSo, as with the idea of God, what we have left in modern times are not\nthe reasons why such a belief is held, but only excuses why those who\nhold it should not be disturbed. That and a number of arguments which\nonly present an air of plausibility because they succeed in jumbling\ntogether things that have no connection with each other. As an example\nof this we may take the favourite modern plea that a future life is\nrequired to permit the growth and development of the individual. We find\nthis expressed in the quotation above given in the sentence \"if there is\nno limit to human growth, etc.,\" the inference being that unless there\nis a future life there is a very sharp limit set to human growth, and\none that makes this life a mockery. This plea is presented in so many\nforms that it is worth while analysing it a little, if only to bring out\nmore clearly the distinction between the religious and the Freethought\nview of life.\n\nWhat now is meant by there being no limit to human growth? If by it is\nmeant individual growth, the reply is that there is actually a very\nsharp limit set to growth, much sharper than the average person seems\nto be aware of. It is quite clear that the individual is not capable of\nunlimited growth in this world. There are degrees of capacity in\ndifferent individuals which will determine what amount of development\neach is capable of. Capacity is not an acquired thing, it is an\nendowment, and the child born with the brain capacity of a fool will\nremain a fool to the end, however much his folly may be disguised or\nlost amid the folly of others. And with each one, whether he be fool or\ngenius, acquisitions are made more easily and more rapidly in youth, the\npower of mental adaptation is much greater in early than in later life,\nwhile in old age the capacities of adaptation and acquisition become\nnegligible quantities. And provided one lives long enough, the last\nstage sees, not a promise of further progress if life were continued,\nbut a process of degradation. The old saying that one can't put a quart\ninto a pint pot is strictly applicable here. Growth assumes acquisition;\nacquisition is determined by capacity, and this while an indefinite\nquantity (indefinite here is strictly referable to our ignorance, not to\nthe actual fact) is certainly not an unlimited one. Life, then, so far\nas the individual is concerned, does not point to unlimited growth. It\nindicates, so far as it indicates anything at all, that there is a limit\nto growth as to all other things.\n\nWell, but suppose we say that man is capable of indefinite growth, what\ndo we mean? Let us also bear in mind at this point that we are strictly\nconcerned with the individual. For if man survives death he must do it\nas an individual. To merely survive as a part of the chemical and other\nelements of the world, or, to follow some mystical theologians, as an\nindistinguishable part of a \"world-soul,\" is not what people mean when\nthey talk of living beyond the grave. Here, again, it will be found\nthat we have confused two quite distinct things, even though the one\nthing borrows its meaning from the other.\n\nWhen we compare the individual, as such, with the individual of three or\nfour thousand years ago, can we say with truth that the man of to-day is\nactually superior to the man of the earlier date? To test the question\nlet us put it in this way. Does the man of to-day do anything or think\nanything that is beyond the capacity of an ancient Egyptian or an\nancient Greek, if it were possible to suddenly revive one and to enable\nhim to pass through the same education that each one of us passes\nthrough? I do not think that anyone will answer that question in the\naffirmative. Reverse the process. Suppose that a modern man, with\nexactly the same capacity that he now has had lived in the days of the\nancient Egyptians or the ancient Greeks, can we say that his capacity is\nso much greater than theirs, that he would have done better than they\ndid? I do not think that anyone will answer that question in the\naffirmative either. Is the soldier of to-day a better soldier, or the\nsailor a better sailor than those who lived three thousand years ago?\nOnce more the answer will not be in the affirmative. And yet there are\ncertain things that are obvious. It is plain that we all know more than\ndid the people of long ago, we can do more, we understand the past\nbetter, and we can see farther into the future. A schoolboy to-day\ncarries in his head what would have been a philosopher's outfit once\nupon a time. Our soldiers and sailors utilize, single-handed, forces\ngreater than a whole army or navy wielded in the far-off days of the\nPtolemies. We call ourselves greater, we think ourselves greater, and in\na sense we are greater than the people of old. What, then, is the\nexplanation of the apparent paradox?\n\nThe explanation lies in the simple fact that progress is not a\nphenomenon of individual life at all. It is a phenomenon of social\nexistence. If each generation had to commence at the exact point at\nwhich its predecessors started it would get no farther than they got. It\nwould be an eternal round, with each generation starting from and\nreaching the same point, and progress would be an inconceivable thing.\nBut that we know is not the case. Instead of each generation starting\nfrom precisely the same point, one inherits at least something of the\nlabours and discoveries of its predecessors. A thing discovered by the\nindividual is discovered for the race. A thought struck out by the\nindividual is a thought for the race. By language, by tradition, and by\ninstitutions the advances of each generation are conserved, handed on,\nand made part of our racial possessions. The strength, the knowledge, of\nthe modern is thus due not to any innate superiority over the ancient,\nbut because one is modern and the other ancient. If we could have\nsurrounded the ancient Assyrians with all the inventions, and given them\nall the knowledge that we possess, they would have used that knowledge\nand those inventions as wisely, or as unwisely as we use them. Progress\nis thus not a fact of individual but of racial life. The individual\ninherits more than he creates, and it is in virtue of this racial\ninheritance that he is what he is.\n\nIt is a mere trick of the imagination that converts this fact of social\ngrowth into an essential characteristic of individual life. We speak of\n\"man\" without clearly distinguishing between man as a biological unit\nand man as a member of a social group developing in correspondence with\na true social medium. But if that is so, it follows that this capacity\nfor growth is, so to speak, a function of the social medium. It is\nconditioned by it, it has relevance only in relation to it. Our\nfeelings, our sentiments, even our desires, have reference to this life,\nand in a far deeper sense than is usually imagined. And removed from its\nrelation to this life human nature would be without meaning or value.\n\nThere is nothing in any of the functions of man, in any of his\ncapacities, or in any of his properly understood desires that has the\nslightest reference to any life but this. It is unthinkable that there\nshould be. An organ or an organism develops in relation to a special\nmedium, not in relation to one that--even though it exists--is not also\nin relation with it. This is quite an obvious truth in regard to\nstructures, but it is not always so clearly recognized, or so carefully\nborne in mind, that it is equally true of every feeling and desire. For\nthese are developed in relation to their special medium, in this case,\nthe existence of fellow beings with their actions and reactions on each\nother. And man is not only a member of a social group, that much is an\nobvious fact; but he is a product of the group in the sense that all his\ncharacteristic human qualities have resulted from the interactions of\ngroup life. Take man out of relation to that fact, and he is an enigma,\npresenting fit opportunities for the wild theorizing of religious\nphilosophers. Take him in connection with it, and his whole nature\nbecomes susceptible of understanding in relation to the only existence\nhe knows and desires.\n\nThe twin facts of growth and progress, upon which so much of the\nargument for a future life turns nowadays, have not the slightest\npossible reference to a life beyond the grave. They are fundamentally\nnot even personal, but social. It is the race that grows, not the\nindividual, he becomes more powerful precisely because the products of\nracial acquisition are inherited by him. Remove, if only in thought, the\nindividual from all association with his fellows, strip him of all that\nhe inherits from association with them, and he loses all the qualities\nwe indicate when we speak of him as a civilized being. Remove him, in\nfact, from that association, as when a man is marooned on a desert\nisland, and the more civilized qualities of his character begin to\nweaken and in time disappear. Man, as an individual, becomes more\npowerful with the passing of each generation, precisely because he is\nthus dependent upon the life of the race. The secret of his weakness is\nat the same time the source of his strength. We are what we are because\nof the generations of men and women who lived and toiled and died before\nwe were born. We inherit the fruits of their labours, as those who come\nafter us will inherit the fruits of our struggles and conquests. It is\nthus in the life of the race that man achieves immortality. None other\nis possible, or conceivable. And to those whose minds are not distorted\nby religious teaching, and who have taken the trouble to analyse and\nunderstand their own mental states, it may be said that none other is\neven desirable.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nEVOLUTION.\n\n\nLanguage, we have said above, is one of the prime conditions of human\ngreatness and progress. It is the principal means by which man conserves\nhis victories over the forces of his environment, and transmits them to\nhis descendants. But it is, nevertheless, not without its dangers, and\nmay exert an influence fatal to exact thought. There is a sense in which\nlanguage necessarily lags behind thought. For words are coined to\nexpress the ideas of those who fashion them; and as the knowledge of the\nnext generation alters, and some modification of existing conceptions is\nfound necessary, there is nothing but the existing array of words in\nwhich to express them. The consequence is that there are nearly always\nsubtle shades of meaning in the words used differing from the exact\nmeaning which the new thought is trying to express. Thought drives us to\nseek new or improved verbal tools, but until we get them we must go on\nusing the old ones, with all their old implications. And by the time the\nnew words arrive thought has made a still further advance, and the\ngeneral position remains. It is an eternal chase in which the pursued is\nalways being captured, but is never caught.\n\nAnother way in which language holds a danger is that with many words,\nespecially when they assume the character of a formula, they tend to\nusurp the place of thinking. The old lady who found so much consolation\nin the \"blessed\" word Mesopotamia, is not alone in using that method of\nconsolation. It does not meet us only in connection with religion, it\nis encountered over the whole field of sociology, and even of science.\nA conception in science or sociology is established after a hard fight.\nIt is accepted generally, and thereafter takes its place as one of the\nmany established truths. And then the danger shows itself. It is\nrepeated as though it had some magical virtue in itself; it means\nnothing to very many of those who use it, they simply hand over their\nmental difficulties to its care, much as the penitent in the\nconfessional hands over his moral troubles to the priest, and there the\nmatter ends. But in such cases the words used do not express thought,\nthey simply blind people to its absence. And not only that, but in the\nname of these sacred words, any number of foolish inferences are drawn\nand receive general assent.\n\nA striking illustration of this is to be found in such a word as\n\"Evolution.\" One may say of it that while it began as a formula, it\ncontinues as a fiat. Some invoke it with all the expectancy of a\nmediaeval magician commanding the attendance of his favourite spirits.\nOthers approach it with a hushed reverence that is reminiscent of a\nCatholic devotee before his favourite shrine. In a little more than half\na century it has acquired the characteristics of the Kismet of the\nMohammedan, the Beelzebub of the pious Christian, and the power of a\nphrase that gives inspiration to a born soldier. It is used as often to\ndispel doubt as it is to awaken curiosity. It may express comprehension\nor merely indicate vacuity. Decisions are pronounced in its name with\nall the solemnity of a \"Thus saith the Lord.\" We are not sure that even\nto talk about evolution in this way may not be considered wrong. For\nthere are crowds of folk who cannot distinguish profundity from\nsolemnity, and who mistake a long face for the sure indication of a\nwell-stored brain. The truth here is that what a man understands\nthoroughly he can deal with easily; and that he laughs at a difficulty\nis not necessarily a sign that he fails to appreciate it, he may laugh\nbecause he has taken its measure. And why people do not laugh at such a\nthing as religion is partly because they have not taken its measure,\npartly from a perception that religion cannot stand it. Everywhere the\npriest maintains his hold as a consequence of the narcotizing influence\nof ill-understood phrases, and in this he is matched by the\npseudo-philosopher whose pompous use of imperfectly appreciated formulae\ndisguises from the crowd the mistiness of his understanding.\n\nA glance over the various uses to which the word \"Evolution\" is put will\nwell illustrate the truth of what has been said. These make one wonder\nwhat, in the opinion of some people, evolution stands for. One of these\nuses of evolution is to give it a certain moral implication to which it\nhas not the slightest claim. A certain school of Non-Theists are, in\nthis matter, if not the greatest offenders, certainly those with the\nleast excuse for committing the blunder. By these evolution is\nidentified with progress, or advancement, or a gradual \"levelling up\" of\nsociety, and is even acclaimed as presenting a more \"moral\" view of the\nUniverse than is the Theistic conception. Now, primarily, this\nascription of what one may call a moral element to evolution is no more\nthan a carrying over into science of a frame of mind that properly\nbelongs to Theism. Quite naturally the Theist was driven to try and find\nsome moral purpose in the Universe, and to prove that its working did\nnot grate on our moral sense. That was quite understandable, and even\nlegitimate. The world, from the point of view of the Goddite, was God's\nworld, he made it; and we are ultimately compelled to judge the\ncharacter of God from his workmanship. An attack on the moral character\nof the world is, therefore, an attack on the character of its maker. And\nthe Theist proceeded to find a moral justification for all that God had\ndone.\n\nSo far all is clear. But now comes a certain kind of Non-Theist. And he,\nalways rejecting a formal Theism and substituting evolution, proceeds to\nclaim for his formula all that the Theist claimed for his. He also\nstrives to show that the idea of cosmic evolution involves conceptions\nof nobility, justice, morality, etc. There is no wonder that some\nChristians round on him, and tell him that he still believes in a god.\nSubstantially he does. That is, he carries over into his new camp the\nsame anthropomorphic conception of the workings of nature, and uses the\nsame pseudo-scientific reasoning that is characteristic of the Theist.\nHe has formally given up God, but he goes about uncomfortably burdened\nwith his ghost.\n\nNow, evolution is not a fiat, but a formula. It has nothing whatever to\ndo with progress, as such, nor with morality, as such, nor with a\nlevelling up, nor a levelling down. It is really no more than a special\napplication of the principle of causation, and whether the working out\nof that principle has a good effect or a bad one, a moralizing, or a\ndemoralizing, a progressive, or a retrogressive consequence is not\n\"given\" in the principle itself. Fundamentally, all cosmic phenomena\npresent us with two aspects--difference and change--and that is so\nbecause it is the fundamental condition of our knowing anything at all.\nBut the law of evolution is no more, is nothing more serious or more\nprofound than an attempt to express those movements of change and\ndifference in a more or less precise formula. It aims at doing for\nphenomena in general exactly what a particular scientific law aims at\ndoing for some special department. But it has no more a moral\nimplication, or a progressive implication than has the law of\ngravitation or of chemical affinity. The sum of those changes that are\nexpressed in the law of evolution may result in one or the other; it has\nresulted in one or the other. At one time we call its consequences moral\nor progressive, at another time we call them immoral or retrogressive,\nbut these are some of the distinctions which the human mind creates for\nits own convenience, they have no validity in any other sense. And when\nwe mistake these quite legitimate distinctions, made for our own\nconvenience, and argue as though they had an actual independent\nexistence, we are reproducing exactly the same mental confusion that\nkeeps Theism alive.\n\nThe two aspects that difference and change resolve themselves into when\nexpressed in an evolutionary formula are, in the inorganic world,\nequilibrium, and, in the organic world, adaptation. Of course,\nequilibrium also applies to the organic world, I merely put it this way\nfor the purpose of clarity. Now, if we confine our attention to the\nworld of animal forms, what we have expressed, primarily, is the fact of\nadaptation. If an animal is to live it must be adapted to its\nsurroundings to at least the extent of being able to overcome or to\nneutralize the forces that threaten its existence. That is quite a\ncommon-place, since all it says is that to live an animal must be fit to\nlive, but all great truths are common-places--when one sees them. Still,\nif there were only adaptations to consider, and if the environment to\nwhich adaptation is to be secured, remained constant, all we should have\nwould be the deaths of those not able to live, with the survival of\nthose more fortunately endowed. There would be nothing that we could\ncall, even to please ourselves, either progress or its reverse. Movement\nup or down (both human landmarks) occurs because the environment itself\nundergoes a change. Either the material conditions change, or the\npressure of numbers initiates a contest for survival, although more\ncommonly one may imagine both causes in operation at the same time. But\nthe consequence is the introduction of a new quality into the struggle\nfor existence. It becomes a question of a greater endowment of the\nqualities that spell survival. And that paves the way to progress--or\nthe reverse. But one must bear in mind that, whether the movement be in\none direction or the other, it is still the same process that is at\nwork. Evolution levels neither \"up\" nor \"down.\" Up and down is as\nrelative in biology as it is in astronomy. In nature there is neither\nbetter nor worse, neither high nor low, neither good nor bad, there are\nonly differences, and if that had been properly appreciated by all, very\nfew of the apologies for Theism would ever have seen the light.\n\nThere is not the slightest warranty for speaking of evolution as being a\n\"progressive force,\" it is, indeed, not a force at all, but only a\ndescriptive term on all fours with any other descriptive term as\nexpressed in a natural law. It neither, of necessity, levels up nor\nlevels down. In the animal world it illustrates adaptation only, but\nwhether that adaptation involves what we choose to call progression or\nretrogression is a matter of indifference. On the one hand we have\naquatic life giving rise to mammalian life, and on the other hand, we\nhave mammalian life reverting to an aquatic form of existence. In one\nplace we have a \"lower\" form of life giving place to a \"higher\" form. In\nanother place we can see the reverse process taking place. And the\n\"lower\" forms are often more persistent than the \"higher\" ones, while,\nas the course of epidemical and other diseases shows certain lowly forms\nof life may make the existence of the higher forms impossible. The\nTheistic attempt to disprove the mechanistic conception of nature by\ninsisting that evolution is a law of progress, that it implies an end,\nand indicates a goal, is wholly fallacious. From a scientific point of\nview it is meaningless chatter. Science knows nothing of a plan, or an\nend in nature, or even progress. All these are conceptions which we\nhumans create for our own convenience. They are so many standards of\nmeasurement, of exactly the same nature as our agreement that a certain\nlength of space shall be called a yard, or a certain quantity of liquid\nshall be called a pint. To think otherwise is pure anthropomorphism. It\nis the ghost of God imported into science.\n\nSo far, then, it is clear that the universal fact in nature is change.\nThe most general aspect of nature which meets us is that expressed in\nthe law of evolution. And proceeding from the more general to the less\ngeneral, in the world of living beings this change meets us in the form\nof adaptation to environment. But what constitutes adaptation must be\ndetermined by the nature of the environment. That will determine what\nqualities are of value in the struggle for existence, which is not\nnecessarily a struggle against other animals, but may be no more than\nthe animal's own endeavours to persist in being. It is, however, in\nrelation to the environment that we must measure the value of qualities.\nWhatever be the nature of the environment that principle remains true.\nIdeally, one quality may be more desirable than another, but if it does\nnot secure a greater degree of adaptation to the environment it brings\nno advantage to its possessor. It may even bring a positive\ndisadvantage. In a thieves' kitchen the honest man is handicapped. In a\ncircle of upright men the dishonest man is at a discount. In the\nexisting political world a perfectly truthful man would be a\nparliamentary failure. In the pulpit a preacher who knew the truth about\nChristianity and preached it would soon be out of the Church.\nAdaptation is not, as such, a question of moral goodness or badness, it\nis simply adaptation.\n\nA precautionary word needs be said on the matter of environment. If we\nconceive the environment as made up only of the material surroundings we\nshall not be long before we find ourselves falling into gross error. For\nthat conception of environment will only hold of the very lowest\norganisms. A little higher, and the nature of the organism begins to\nhave a modifying effect on the material environment, and when we come to\nanimals living in groups the environment of the individual animal\nbecomes partly the habits and instincts of the other animals with which\nit lives. Finally, when we reach man this transformation of the nature\nof the environment becomes greatest. Here it is not merely the existence\nof other members of the same species, with all their developed feelings\nand ideas to which each must become adapted to live, but in virtue of\nwhat we have described above as the social medium, certain \"thought\nforms\" such as institutions, conceptions of right and wrong, ideals of\nduty, loyalty, the relation of one human group to other human groups,\nnot merely those that are now living, but also those that are dead, are\nall part of the environment to which adjustment must be made. And in the\nhigher stages of social life these aspects of the environment become of\neven greater consequence than the facts of a climatic, geographic, or\ngeologic nature. In other words, the environment which exerts a\npredominating influence on civilized mankind is an environment that has\nbeen very largely created by social life and growth.\n\nIf we keep these two considerations firmly in mind we shall be well\nguarded against a whole host of fallacies and false analogies that are\nplaced before us as though they were unquestioned and unquestionable\ntruths. There is, for instance, the misreading of evolution which\nasserts that inasmuch as what is called moral progress takes place,\ntherefore evolution involves a moral purpose. We find this view put\nforward not only by avowed Theists, but by those who, while formally\ndisavowing Theism, appear to have imported into ethics all the false\nsentiment and fallacious reasoning that formerly did duty in bolstering\nup the idea of God. Evolution, as such, is no more concerned with an\nideal morality than it is concerned with the development of an ideal\napple dumpling. In the universal process morality is no more than a\nspecial illustration of the principle of adaptation. The morality of man\nis a summary of the relations between human beings that must be\nmaintained if the two-fold end of racial preservation and individual\ndevelopment are to be secured. Fundamentally morality is the formulation\nin either theory or practice of rules or actions that make group-life\npossible. And the man who sees in the existence or growth of morality\nproof of a \"plan\" or an \"end\" is on all fours with the mentality of the\ncurate who saw the hand of Providence in the fact that death came at the\nend of life instead of in the middle of it. What we are dealing with\nhere is the fact of adaptation, although in the case of the human group\nthe traditions and customs and ideals of the group form a very important\npart of the environment to which adaptation must be made and have,\ntherefore, a distinct survival value. The moral mystery-monger is only a\nshade less objectionable than the religious mystery-monger, of whom he\nis the ethical equivalent.\n\nA right conception of the nature of environment and the meaning of\nevolution will also protect us against a fallacy that is met with in\nconnection with social growth. Human nature, we are often told, is\nalways the same. To secure a desired reform, we are assured, you must\nfirst of all change human nature, and the assumption is that as human\nnature cannot be changed the proposed reform is quite impossible.\n\nNow there is a sense in which human nature is the same, generation after\ngeneration. But there is another sense in which human nature is\nundergoing constant alteration, and, indeed, it is one of the\noutstanding features of social life that it should be so. So far as can\nbe seen there exists no difference between the fundamental capacities\npossessed by man during at least the historic period. There are\ndifferences in people between the relative strengths of the various\ncapacities, but that is all. An ancient Assyrian possessed all the\ncapacities of a modern Englishman, and in the main one would feel\ninclined to say the same of them in their quantitative aspect as well as\nin their qualitative one. For when one looks at the matter closely it is\nseen that the main difference between the ancient and the modern man is\nin expression. Civilization does not so much change the man so much as\nit gives a new direction to the existing qualities. Whether particular\nqualities are expressed in an ideally good direction or the reverse\ndepends upon the environment to which they react.\n\nTo take an example. The fundamental evil of war in a modern state is\nthat it expends energy in a harmful direction. But war itself, the\nexpression of the war-like character, is the outcome of pugnacity and\nthe love of adventure without which human nature would be decidedly the\npoorer, and would be comparatively ineffective. It is fundamentally an\nexpression of these qualities that lead to the quite healthy taste for\nexploration, discovery, and in intellectual pursuits to that contest of\nideas which lies at the root of most of our progress. And what war means\nin the modern State is that the love of competition and adventure, the\npugnacity which leads a man to fight in defence of a right or to redress\na wrong, and without which human nature would be a poor thing, are\nexpended in the way of sheer destruction instead of through channels of\nadventure and healthy intellectual contest. Sympathies are narrowed\ninstead of widened, and hatred of the stranger and the outsider, of\nwhich a growing number of people in a civilized country are becoming\nashamed, assumes the rank of a virtue. In other words, a state of war\ncreates an environment--fortunately for only a brief period--which gives\na survival value to such expressions of human capacity as indicate a\nreversion to a lower state of culture.\n\nWe may put the matter thus. While conduct is a function of the organism,\nand while the _kind_ of reaction is determined by structure, the _form_\ntaken by the reaction is a matter of response to environmental\ninfluences. It is this fact which explains why the capacities of man\nremain fairly constant, while there is a continuous redirecting of these\ncapacities into new channels suitable to a developing social life.\n\nWe are only outlining here a view of evolution that would require a\nvolume to discuss and illustrate adequately, but enough has been said to\nindicate the enormous importance of the educative power of the\nenvironment. We cannot alter the capacities of the individual for they\nare a natural endowment. But we can, in virtue of an increased emphasis,\ndetermine whether they shall be expressed in this or that direction. The\nlove of adventure may, for example, be exhausted in the pursuit of some\npiratical enterprise, or it may be guided into channels of some useful\nform of social effort. It lies with society itself to see that the\nenvironment is such as to exercise a determining influence with regard\nto expressions of activity that are beneficial to the whole of the\ngroup.\n\nTo sum up. Evolution is no more than a formula that expresses the way in\nwhich a moving balance of forces is brought about by purely mechanical\nmeans. So far as animal life is concerned this balance is expressed by\nthe phrase \"adaptation to environment.\" But in human society the\nenvironment is in a growing measure made up of ideas, customs,\ntraditions, ideals, and beliefs; in a word, of factors which are\nthemselves products of human activities. And it is for this reason that\nthe game of civilization is very largely in our own hands. If we\nmaintain an environment in which it is either costly or dangerous to be\nhonest and fearless in the expression of opinion, we shall be doing our\nbest to develop mental cowardice and hypocrisy. If we bring up the young\nwith the successful soldier or money-maker before them as examples,\nwhile we continue to treat the scientist as a crank, and the reformer as\na dangerous criminal, we shall be continuing the policy of forcing the\nexpression of human capacity on a lower level than would otherwise be\nthe case. If we encourage the dominance of a religion which while making\na profession of disinterested loftiness continues to irradiate a narrow\negotism and a pessimistic view of life, we are doing our best to\nperpetuate an environment which emphasizes only the poorer aspects of\nhuman motive. Two centuries of ceaseless scientific activity have taught\nus something of the rules of the game which we are all playing with\nnature whether we will or no. To-day we have a good many of the winning\ncards in our hands, if we will only learn to play them wisely. It is not\ncorrect to say that evolution necessarily involves progress, but it does\nindicate that wisdom and foresight may so control the social forces as\nto turn that ceaseless change which is indicated by the law of evolution\ninto channels that make for happiness and prosperity.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nDARWINISM AND DESIGN.\n\n\nThe influence of the hypothesis of evolution on religion was not long in\nmaking itself felt. Professor Huxley explained the rapid success of\nDarwinism by saying that the scientific world was ready for it. And much\nthe same thing may be said of the better representatives of the\nintellectual world with regard to the bearing of evolution on religion.\nIn many directions the cultivated mind had for more than half a century\nbeen getting familiar with the general conception of growth in human\nlife and thought. Where earlier generations had seen no more than a\npattern to unravel there had developed a conviction that there was a\nhistory to trace and to understand. Distant parts of the world had been\nbrought together during the seventeenth and the eighteenth centuries,\nreaders and students were getting familiarized with the mass of customs\nand religious ideas that were possessed by these peoples, and it was\nperceived that beneath the bewildering variety of man's mental output\nthere were certain features which they had in common, and which might\nhold in solution some common principle or principles.\n\nThis common principle was found in the conception of evolution. It was\nthe one thing which, if true, and apart from the impossible idea of a\nrevelation, nicely graduated to the capacities of different races,\noffered an explanation of the religions of the world in terms more\nsatisfactory than those of deliberate invention or imposture. Once it\nwas accepted, if only as an instrument of investigation, its use was\nsoon justified. And the thorough-going nature of the conquest achieved\nis in no wise more clearly manifested than in the fact that the\nconception of growth is, to-day, not merely an accepted principle with\nscientific investigators, it has sunk deeply into all our literature and\nforms an unconscious part of popular thought.\n\nOne aspect of the influence of evolution on religious ideas has already\nbeen noted. It made the religious idea but one of the many forms that\nwere assumed by man's attempt to reduce his experience of the world to\nsomething like an orderly theory. But that carried with it, for\nreligion, the danger of reducing it to no more than one of the many\ntheories of things which man forms, with the prospect of its rejection\nas a better knowledge of the world develops. Evolution certainly\ndivested religion of any authority save such as it might contain in\nitself, and that is a position a religious mind can never contemplate\nwith equanimity.\n\nBut so far as the theory of Darwinism is concerned it exerted a marked\nand rapid influence on the popular religious theory of design in nature.\nThis is one of the oldest arguments in favour of a reasoned belief in\nGod, and it is the one which was, and is still in one form or another,\nheld in the greatest popular esteem. To the popular mind--and religion\nin a civilized country is not seriously concerned about its failing grip\non the cultured intelligence so long as it keeps control of the ordinary\nman and woman--to the popular mind the argument from design appealed\nwith peculiar force. Anyone is capable of admiring the wonders of\nnature, and in the earlier developments of popular science the marvels\nof plant and animal structures served only to deepen the Theist's\nadmiration of the \"divine wisdom.\" The examples of complexity of\nstructure, of the interdependence of parts, and of the thousand and one\ncunning devices by which animal life maintains itself in the face of a\nhostile environment were there for all to see and admire. And when man\ncompared these with his own conscious attempts to adapt means to ends,\nthere seemed as strong proof here as anywhere of some scheming\nintelligence behind the natural process.\n\nBut the strength of the case was more apparent than real. It was weakest\nat the very point where it should have been strongest. In the case of a\nhuman product we know the purpose and can measure the extent of its\nrealization in the nature of the result. In the case of a natural\nproduct we have no means of knowing what the purpose was, or even if any\npurpose at all lies behind the product. The important element in the\nargument from design--that of purpose--is thus pure assumption. In the\ncase of human productions we argue from purpose to production. In the\ncase of a natural object we are arguing from production to an assumed\npurpose. The analogy breaks down just where it should be strongest and\nclearest.\n\nNow it is undeniable that to a very large number of the more thoughtful\nthe old form of the argument from design received its death blow from\nthe Darwinian doctrine of natural selection. In the light of this theory\nthere was no greater need to argue that intelligence was necessary to\nproduce animal adaptations than there was to assume intelligence for the\nsifting of sand by the wind. As the lighter grains are carried farthest\nbecause they are lightest, so natural selection, operating upon organic\nvariations, favoured the better adapted specimens by killing off the\nless favoured ones. The fittest is not created, it survives. The world\nis not what it is because the animal is what it is, the animal is what\nit is because the world is as it is. It cannot be any different and\nlive--a truth demonstrated by the destruction of myriads of animal\nforms, and by the disappearance of whole species. The case was so plain,\nthe evidence so conclusive, that the clearer headed religionists dropped\nthe old form of the argument from design as no longer tenable.\n\nBut the gentleman who exchanged the errors of the Church of Rome for\nthose of the Church of England is always with us. And the believer in\ndeity having dropped the argument from design in one form immediately\nproceeded to revive it in another. This was, perhaps, inevitable. After\nall, man lives in this world, and if proof of the existence of deity is\nto be gathered from his works, it must be derived from the world we\nknow. So design _must_ be found somewhere, and it must be found here.\nOnly one chance was left. The general hypothesis of evolution--either\nDarwinism alone, or Darwinism plus other factors--explained the\ndevelopment of animal life. But that was _within_ the natural process.\nWhat, then, of the process as a whole? If the hand of God could not be\nseen in the particular adaptations of animal life, might it not be that\nthe whole of the process, in virtue of which these particular\nadaptations occurred, might be the expression of the divine\nintelligence? God did not create the particular parts directly, but may\nhe not have created the whole, leaving it for the forces he had set in\nmotion to work out his \"plan.\" The suggestion was attractive. It\nrelieved religion from resting its case in a region where proof and\ndisproof are possible, and removed it to a region where they are\ndifficult, if not impossible. So, as it was not possible to uphold the\nold teleology, one began to hear a great deal of the \"wider teleology,\"\nwhich meant that the Theist was thinking vaguely when he imagined he was\nthinking comprehensively, and that, because he had reached a region\nwhere the laws of logic could not be applied, he concluded that he had\nachieved demonstration. And, indeed, when one gets outside the region of\nverification there is nothing to stop one theorizing--save a dose of\ncommon-sense and a gracious gift of humour.\n\nIn another work (_Theism or Atheism_) I have dealt at length with the\nargument from design. At present my aim is to take the presentation of\nthis \"wider teleology\" as given by a well-known writer on philosophical\nsubjects, Mr. F. C. S. Schiller, in a volume published a few years ago\nentitled _Humanism: Philosophical Essays_. And in doing so, it is\ncertain that the theologian will lose nothing by leaving himself in the\nhands of so able a representative.\n\nMr. Schiller naturally accepts Darwinism as at least an important factor\nin organic evolution, but he does not believe that it excludes design,\nand he does believe that \"our attitude towards life will be very\ndifferent, according as we believe it to be inspired and guided by\nintelligence or hold it to be the fortuitous product of blind\nmechanisms, whose working our helpless human intelligence can observe,\nbut cannot control.\"\n\nNow within its scope Darwinism certainly does exclude design, and even\nthough the forces represented by natural selection may be directed\ntowards the end produced, yet so far as the play of these forces is\nconcerned they are really self-directing, or self-contained. The\nargument really seems to be just mere theology masquerading as\nphilosophy. Theories do play some part in the determination of the\nindividual attitude towards life, but they do not play the important\npart that Mr. Schiller assumes they play. It is easily observable that\nthe same theory of life held by a Christian in England and by another\nChristian in Asia Minor has, so far as it affects conduct, different\nresults. And if it be said that even though the results be different\nthey are still there, the reply is that they differ because the facts of\nlife compel an adjustment in terms of the general environment. Mr.\nSchiller admits that the \"prevalent conduct and that adapted to the\nconditions of life must coincide,\" and the admission is fatal to his\nposition. The truth of the matter is that the conditions of life being\nwhat they are, and the consequences of conduct being also what they are,\nspeculative theories of life cannot, in the nature of the case, affect\nlife beyond a certain point; that is, if life is to continue. That is\nwhy in the history of belief religious teachings have sooner or later to\naccommodate themselves to persistent facts.\n\nMr. Schiller brings forward two arguments in favour of reconciling\nDarwinism and Design, both of them ingenious, but neither of them\nconclusive. With both of these I will deal later; but it is first\nnecessary to notice one or two of his arguments against a non-Theistic\nDarwinism. The denial of the argument from design, he says, leads\nfarther than most people imagine:--\n\n     A complete denial of design in nature must deny the efficacy of all\n     intelligence as such. A consistently mechanical view has to regard\n     all intelligence as otiose, as an \"epi-phenomenal by-product\" or\n     fifth wheel to the cart, in the absence of which the given results\n     would no less have occurred. And so, if this view were the truth,\n     we should have to renounce all effort to direct our fated and\n     ill-fated course down the stream of time. Our consciousness would\n     be an unmeaning accident.\n\nA complete reply to this would involve an examination of the meaning\nthat is and ought to be attached to \"intelligence,\" and that is too\nlengthy an enquiry to be attempted here. It is, perhaps, enough to\npoint out that Mr. Schiller's argument clearly moves on the assumption\nthat intelligence is a _thing_ or a quality which exists, so to speak,\nin its own right and which interferes with the course of events as\nsomething from without. It is quite probable that he would repudiate\nthis construction being placed on his words, but if he does not mean\nthat, then I fail to see what he does mean, or what force there is in\nhis argument. And it is enough for my purpose to point out that\n\"intelligence\" or mind is not a thing, but a relation. It asserts of a\ncertain class of actions exactly what \"gravitation\" asserts of a certain\nclass of motion, and \"thingness\" is no more asserted in the one case\nthan it is in the other.\n\nIntelligence, as a name given to a special class of facts or actions,\nremains, whatever view we take of its nature, and it is puzzling to see\nwhy the denial of extra natural intelligence--that is, intelligence\nseparated from all the conditions under which we know the phenomenon of\nintelligence--should be taken as involving the denial of the existence\nof intelligence as we know it. Intelligence as connoting purposive\naction remains as much a fact as gravity or chemical attraction, and\ncontinues valid concerning the phenomena it is intended to cover. All\nthat the evolutionist is committed to is the statement that it is as\nmuch a product of evolution as is the shape or colouring of animals. It\nis not at all a question of self-dependence. Every force in nature must\nbe taken for what it is worth, intelligence among them. Why, then, does\nthe view that intelligence is both a product of evolution and a cause of\nanother phase of evolution land us in self-contradiction, or make the\nexistence of itself meaningless? The truth is that intelligence\ndetermines results exactly as every other force in nature determines\nresults, by acting as a link in an unending sequential chain. And the\nquestion as to what intelligence is _per se_ is as meaningless as what\ngravitation is _per se_. These are names which we give to groups of\nphenomena displaying particular and differential characteristics, and\ntheir purpose is served when they enable us to cognize and recognize\nthese phenomena and to give them their place and describe their function\nin the series of changes that make up our world.\n\nMr. Schiller's reply to this line of criticism is the familiar one that\nit reduces human beings to automata. He says:--\n\n     The ease with which the Darwinian argument dispenses with\n     intelligence as a factor in survival excites suspicion. It is\n     proving too much to show that adaptation might equally well have\n     arisen in automata. For we ourselves are strongly persuaded that we\n     are not automata and strive hard to adapt ourselves. In us at\n     least, therefore, intelligence _is_ a source of adaptation....\n     Intelligence therefore is a _vera causa_ as a source of adaptations\n     at least co-ordinate with Natural Selection, and this can be denied\n     only if it is declared inefficacious _everywhere_; if all living\n     beings, including ourselves, are declared to be automata.\n\nOne is compelled again to point out that Darwinism does not dispense\nwith intelligence as a factor in survival, except so far as the\nintelligence which determines survival is declared to be operating apart\nfrom the organisms which survive. The conduct of one of the lower\nanimals which reacts only to the immediate promptings of its environment\nis of one order, but the response of another animal not merely to the\nimmediate promptings of the environment, but to remote conditions, as\nin the selection of food or the building of a home of some sort, or to\nthe fashioning of a tool, does obviously give to the intelligence\ndisplayed a distinct survival value. And that effectively replies to the\ntriumphant conclusion, \"If intelligence has no efficacy in promoting\nadaptations, _i.e._, if it has no survival value, how comes it to be\ndeveloped at all?\"\n\nDarwinism would never have been able to dispense with intelligence in\nthe way it did but for the fact that the opposite theory never stood for\nmore than a mere collection of words. That species are or were produced\nby the operations of \"Divine Intelligence\" is merely a grandiloquent way\nof saying nothing at all. It is absurd to pretend that such a formula\never had any scientific value. It explains nothing. And it is quite\nobvious that some adaptations do, so far as we know, arise without\nintelligence, and are, therefore, to use Mr. Schiller's expression,\nautomata. (I do not like the word, since it conveys too much the notion\nof someone behind the scenes pulling strings.) And it is on his theory\nthat animals actually are automata. For if there be a \"Divine mind\"\nwhich stands as the active cause of the adaptations that meet us in the\nanimal world, and who arranges forces so that they shall work to their\npre-destined end, what is that but converting the whole of the animal\nworld into so many automata. One does not escape determinism in this\nway; it is only getting rid of it in one direction in order to\nreintroduce it in another.\n\nAnd one would like to know what our conviction that we are not automata\nhas to do with it. Whether the most rigid determinism is true or not is\na matter to be settled by an examination of the facts and a careful\nreflection as to their real significance. No one questions that there is\na persuasion to the contrary; if there were not there would be nothing\naround which controversy could gather. But it is the conviction that is\nchallenged, and it is idle to reply to the challenge by asserting a\nconviction to the contrary. The whole history of human thought is the\nrecord of a challenge and a reversal of such convictions. There never\nwas a conviction which was held more strenuously than that the earth was\nflat. The experience of all men in every hour of their lives seemed to\nprove it. And yet to-day no one believes it. The affirmation that we are\n\"free\" rests, as Spinoza said, ultimately on the fact that all men know\ntheir actions and but few know the causes thereof. A feather endowed\nwith consciousness, falling to the ground in a zigzag manner, might be\nequally convinced that it determined the exact spot on which it would\nrest, yet its persuasion would be of no more value than the \"vulgar\"\nconviction that we independently adapt ourselves to our environment.\n\nMr. Schiller's positive arguments in favour of reconciling Darwinism\nwith design--one of them is really negative;--are concerned with (1) the\nquestion of variation, and (2) with the existence of progress. On the\nfirst question it is pointed out that while Natural Selection operates\nby way of favouring certain variations, the origin or cause of these\nvariations remains unknown. And although Mr. Schiller does not say so in\nas many words, there is the implication, if I rightly discern his drift,\nthat there is room here for a directing intelligence, inasmuch as\nscience is at present quite unable to fully explain the causes of\nvariations. We are told that Darwin assumed for the purpose of his\ntheory that variations were indefinite both as to character and extent,\nand it is upon these variations that Natural Selection depends. This\nindefinite variation Mr. Schiller asserts to be a methodological device,\nthat is, it is something assumed as the groundwork of a theory, but\nwithout any subsequent verification, and it is in virtue of this\nassumption that intelligence is ruled out of evolution. And inasmuch as\nMr. Schiller sees no reason for believing that variations are of this\nindefinite character, he asserts that there is in evolution room for a\nteleological factor, in other words, \"a purposive direction of\nvariations.\"\n\nNow it hardly needs pointing out to students of Darwinism that\nindefinite variation is the equivalent of \"a variation to which no exact\nlimits can be placed,\" and in this sense the assumption is a perfectly\nsound one. From one point of view the variations must be definite, that\nis, they can only occur within certain limits. An elephant will not vary\nin the direction of wings, nor will a bird in the direction of a rose\nbush. But so long as we cannot fix the exact limits of variation we are\nquite warranted in speaking of them as indefinite. That this is a\nmethodological device no one denies, but so are most of the other\ndistinctions that we frame. Scientific generalizations consist of\nabstractions, and Mr. Schiller himself of necessity employs the same\ndevice.\n\nMr. Schiller argues, quite properly, that while Natural Selection states\nthe conditions under which animal life evolves, it does not state any\nreason why it should evolve. Selection may keep a species stationary or\nit may even cause it to degenerate. Both are fairly common phenomena in\nthe animal and plant world. Moreover, if there are an indefinite number\nof variations, and if they tend in an indefinite number of directions,\nthen the variation in any one direction can never be more than an\ninfinitesimal portion of the whole, and that this one should persist\nsupplies a still further reason for belief in \"a purposive direction of\nvariations.\" Mr. Schiller overlooks an important point here, but a very\nsimple one. It is true that any one variation is small in relation to\nthe whole of the possible or actual number of variations. But it is not\nin relation to quantity but quality that survival takes place, and in\nproportion to the keenness of the struggle the variation that gives its\npossessor an advantage need only be of the smaller kind. In a struggle\nof endurance between two athletes it is the one capable of holding out\nfor an extra minute who carries off the prize.\n\nFurther, as Mr. Schiller afterwards admits, the very smallness of the\nnumber of successful variations makes against intelligence rather than\nfor it, and he practically surrenders his position in the statement,\n\"the teleological and anti-teleological interpretation of events will\never decide their conflict by appealing to the facts; for in the facts\neach finds what it wills and comes prepared to see.\" After this lame\nconclusion it is difficult to see what value there is in Mr. Schiller's\nown examination of the \"facts.\" Not that it is strictly correct to say\nthat the facts bear each view out equally. They do not, and Mr. Schiller\nonly justifies his statement by converting the Darwinian position, which\nis teleologically negative, into an affirmative. The Darwinian, he says,\ndenies intelligence as a cause of evolution. What the Darwinian does is\nto deny the validity of the evidence which the teleologist brings to\nprove his case. The Theist asserts mind as a cause of evolution. The\nDarwinian simply points out that the facts may be explained in quite\nanother way and without the appeal to a quite unknown factor.\n\nAnd here one might reasonably ask, why, if there is a directive mind at\nwork, are there variations at all? Why should the \"directive\nintelligence\" not get earlier to work, and instead of waiting until a\nlarge number of specimens have been produced and then looking them over\nwith a view to \"directing\" the preservation of the better specimens, why\nshould it not set to work at the beginning and see that only the\ndesirable ones make their appearance? Certainly that is what a mere\nhuman intelligence would do if it could. But it is characteristic of the\n\"Divine Intelligence\" of the Theist that it never seems to operate with\na tenth part of the intelligence of an ordinary human being.\n\nMoreover, Mr. Schiller writes quite ignoring the fact that the\n\"directive intelligence\" does not direct the preservation of the better\nspecimens. What it does, if it does anything at all, is to kill off the\nless favoured ones. Natural Selection--the point is generally overlooked\nby the Theistic sentimentality of most of our writers--does not preserve\nanything. Its positive action is not to keep alive but to kill. It does\nnot take the better ones in hand and help them. It seizes on all it can\nand kills them. It is the difference between a local council that tried\nto raise the standard of health by a general improvement of the\nconditions of life, and one that aimed at the same end by killing off\nall children that failed to come up to a certain standard. The actual\npreservation of a better type is, so far as Natural Selection is\nconcerned, quite accidental. So far as Natural Selection operates it\ndoes so by elimination, not by preservation.\n\nMr. Schiller's other plea in favour of Design is concerned with the\nconception of progress. He points out that while degeneration and\nstagnation both occur in nature, yet--\n\n     life has been on the whole progressive; but progress and\n     retrogression have both been effected under the same law of Natural\n     Selection. How, then, can the credit of that result be ascribed to\n     Natural Selection? Natural Selection is equally ready to bring\n     about degeneration or to leave things unchanged. How, then, can it\n     be that which determines which of the three possible (and actual)\n     cases shall be realized?... It cannot be Natural Selection that\n     causes one species to remain stationary, another to degenerate, a\n     third to develop into a higher form.... Some variable factor must\n     be added to Natural Selection.\n\nBut why? Evolution, as we have pointed out in a previous chapter, makes\nfor adaptation in terms of animal preservation. If the adaptation of an\nanimal to its environment is secured by \"degenerating\" or \"developing\"\nor by remaining stationary, it will do one of the three. That is the\nnormal consequence of Natural Selection, and it is surprising that Mr.\nSchiller does not see this. He is actually accusing Natural Selection of\nnot being able to do what it does on his own showing. The proof he\nhimself gives of this operation of Natural Selection in the examples he\ncites of its ineffectiveness. If Natural Selection could not make for\ndegeneration or development, in what way would it be able to establish\nan equilibrium between an animal and its surroundings? Really, there is\nnothing that so strengthens one's conviction of the truth of the\nFreethought position so much as a study of the arguments that are\nbrought against it.\n\nMr. Schiller is really misled, and so misleads his readers by an\nunjustifiable use of the word \"progress.\" He says that evolution has\nbeen, on the whole, progressive, and appeals to \"progress\" as though it\nwere some objective fact. But that is not the case. There is no\n\"progress\" in the animal world, there is only change. We have dealt with\nthis in a previous chapter, and there is no need to again labour the\npoint. \"Progress\" is a conception which we ourselves frame, and we\nmeasure a movement towards or away from this arbitrary standard of ours\nin terms of better or worse, higher or lower. But nature knows nothing\nof a higher or a lower, it knows only of changing forms more or less\nfitted to live in the existing environment. Scientifically, life has\nnot progressed, it has persisted, and a _sine qua non_ of its\npersistence has been adaptation to environment.\n\nProgress, then, is not a \"natural\" fact, but a methodological one. It is\na useful word and a valuable ideal. I am not protesting against its use,\nonly against its misuse. It is one of the many abstractions created by\nthinkers, and then worshipped as a reality by those who forget the\norigin and purpose of its existence. And in this we can see one of the\nfatal legacies we have inherited from Theistic methods of thinking. The\nbelief that things are designed to be as they are comes to us from those\nprimitive methods of thinking which personify and vitalize all natural\nphenomena. We have outgrown the crude frame of mind which saw direct\nvolitional action in a storm or in the movements of natural forces. The\ndevelopment of civilized and scientific thinking has removed these\nconceptions from the minds of educated men and women, but it has left\nbehind it as a residuum the habit of looking for purpose where none\nexists, and of reading into nature as objective facts our own\ngeneralizations and abstractions. And so long as we have not outgrown\nthat habit we are retaining a fatal bar to exact scientific thinking.\n\nFinally, and this consideration is fatal to any theory of design such as\nMr. Schiller champions, adaptation is not a special quality of one form\nof existence, but a universal quality of all. There is not a greater\ndegree of adaptation here and a less degree there, but the same degree\nin every case. There is no other meaning to adaptation except that of\nadjustment to surroundings. But whether an animal lives or dies, whether\nit is higher or lower, deformed or perfect, the adjustment is the same.\nThat is, every form of existence represents the product of forces that\nhave made it what it is, and the same forces could not have produced\nanything different. Every body in existence, organic or inorganic,\nconstitutes in ultimate analysis a balance of the forces represented by\nit. It is not possible, therefore, for the Theist to say that design is\nevidenced by adaptation in one case and its absence in another. There is\nadaptation in every case, even though it may not be the adaptation we\nshould like to see. It is not possible for the Theist to say that the\n_degree_ of adaptation is greater in the one case than in the other, for\n_that_ is the same in every case. What needs to be done if design is to\nbe established is to prove that the forces we see at work could not have\nproduced the results that emerge without the introduction of a factor\nnot already given in our experience. Anything else is mere waste of\ntime.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nANCIENT AND MODERN.\n\n\nIn the preceding chapters we have, without saying it in so many words,\nbeen emphasizing the modern as against the ancient point of view. The\ndistinction may not at first glance appear to be of great moment, and\nyet reflection will prove it to be of vital significance. It expresses,\nin a sentence, the essence of the distinction between the Freethinker\nand the religionist. Objectively, the world in which we are living is\nthe same as that in which our ancestors lived. The same stars that\nlooked down upon them look down upon us. Natural forces affected them as\nthey affect us. Even the play of human passion and desire was the same\nwith them as with us. Hunger and thirst, love and hatred, cowardice and\ncourage, generosity and greed operate now as always. The world remains\nthe same in all its essential features; what alters is our conception of\nit--in other words, the point of view.\n\nThe question thus resolves itself into one of interpretation.\nFreethinker and religionist are each living in the same world, they are\neach fed with the same foods and killed with the same poisons. The same\nfeelings move both and the same problems face both. Their differences\nare constituted by the canon of interpretation applied. It is on this\nissue that the conflict between religion and science arises. For\nreligion is not, as some have argued, something that is supplementary or\ncomplementary to science, nor does it deal with matters on which\nscience is incompetent to express an opinion. Religion and science face\neach other as rival interpretations of the same set of facts, precisely\nas the Copernican and the Ptolemaic systems once faced each other as\nrival interpretations of astronomical phenomena. If the one is true the\nother is false. You may reject the religious or the scientific\nexplanation of phenomena, but you cannot logically accept both. As Dr.\nJohnson said, \"Two contradictory ideas may inhere in the same mind, but\nthey cannot both be correct.\"\n\nNow while it is true that in order to understand the present we must\nknow the past, and that because the present is a product of the past, it\nis also true that a condition of understanding is to interpret the past\nby the present. In ordinary affairs this is not questioned. When\ngeologists set out to explain the causes of changes in the earth's\nsurface, they utilize the present-day knowledge of existing forces, and\nby prolonging their action backward explain the features of the period\nthey are studying. When historians seek to explain the conduct of, say\nHenry the Eighth, they take their knowledge of the motives animating\nexisting human nature, and by placing that in a sixteenth century\nsetting manage to present us with a picture of the period. So, again,\nwhen the thirteenth century monkish historian gravely informs us that a\nparticular epidemic was due to the anger of God against the wickedness\nof the people, we put that interpretation on one side and use our own\nknowledge to find in defective social and sanitary conditions the cause\nof what occurred. Illustrations to the same end may be found in every\ndirection. It is, indeed, not something that one may accept or reject as\none may take or leave a political theory, it is an indispensible\ncondition of rational thinking on any subject whatsoever.\n\nAccepted everywhere else, it is in connection with religion that one\nfinds this principle, not openly challenged, for there are degrees of\nabsurdity to which even the most ardent religionist dare not go, but it\nis quietly set on one side and a method adopted which is its practical\nnegation. Either the procedure is inverted and the present is\ninterpreted by the past, as when it is assumed that because God did\ncertain things in the past therefore he will continue to do the same\nthings in the present, or it is assumed that the past was unlike the\npresent, and, therefore, the same method of interpretation cannot be\napplied to both cases. Both plans have the effect of landing us, if not\nin lunacy, at least well on the way to it.\n\nIt is indispensible to the religionist to ignore the principle above\nlaid down. For if it is admitted that human nature is always and\neverywhere the same, and that natural forces always and everywhere act\nin the same manner, religious beliefs are brought to the test of their\nconformity with present day knowledge of things and all claim to\nobjective validity must be abandoned. Yet the principle is quite clear.\nThe claim of the prophets of old to be inspired must be tested by what\nwe know of the conditions of \"inspiration\" to-day, and not by what\nunenlightened people thought of its nature centuries ago. Whether the\nstory of the Virgin Birth is credible or not must be settled by an\nappeal to what we know of the nature of animal procreation, and not by\nwhether our faith urges us to accept the statement as true. To act\notherwise is to raise an altogether false issue, the question of\nevidence is argued when what is really at issue is that of credibility.\nIt is not at all a matter of whether there is evidence enough to\nestablish the reality of a particular recorded event, but whether our\nactual knowledge of natural happenings is not enough for us to rule it\nout as objectively untrue, and to describe the conditions which led to\nits being accepted as true.\n\nLet us take as an illustration of this the general question of miracles.\nThe _Oxford Dictionary_ defines a miracle as \"A marvellous event\noccurring within human experience which cannot have been brought about\nby human power or by the operation of any natural agency, and must,\ntherefore, be ascribed to the special intervention of the deity or some\nsupernatural being.\" That is a good enough definition, and is certainly\nwhat people have had in mind when they have professed a belief in\nmiracles. A miracle must be something marvellous, that is, it must be\nunusual, and it must not be even conceivably explainable in terms of the\noperation of natural forces. If it is admitted that what is claimed as a\nmiracle might be explained as the result of natural forces provided our\nknowledge was extensive enough and exact enough, it is confessed that\nmiracle and ignorance are convertible terms. And while that may be true\nenough as a matter of fact, it would never suit the religious case to\nadmit it in so many words.\n\nNor would it make the case any better to argue that the alleged miracle\nhas been brought about by some superior being with a much greater\nknowledge of nature than man possesses, but which the latter may one day\nacquire. That is placing a miracle on the same level as a performance\ngiven by a clever conjuror, which puzzles the onlooker because he lacks\nthe technical knowledge requisite to understand the methods employed. A\nmiracle to be a miracle must not be in accordance with natural laws,\nknown or unknown, it must contravene them or suspend their operation.\n\nOn the other hand, the demand made by some critics of the miraculous,\nnamely, that the alleged miracle shall be performed under test\nconditions, is absurd, and shows that they have not grasped the\nessential point at issue. The believer's reply to such a demand is plain\nand obvious. He says, a miracle is by its nature a rare event, it is\nperformed under special circumstances to serve a special purpose. Where,\nthen, is the reason in asking that this miracle shall be re-performed in\norder to convince certain people that it has already occurred? To\narrange for the performance of a miracle is an absurdity. For it to\nbecome common is to destroy both its character as a miracle and the\njustification for its existence. A miracle must carry its own evidence\nor it fails of its purpose and ceases to be a miracle at all. Discussion\non these lines ends, at best, in a stalemate.\n\nIt is just as wide of the mark to discuss miracles as though it were a\nquestion of evidence. What possible evidence could there be, for\nexample, that Jesus fed five thousand people with a few loaves and\nfishes, and had basketfuls left at the end of the repast? Suppose it\nwere possible to produce the sworn testimony of the five thousand\nthemselves that they had been so fed. Would that produce conviction?\nWould it do any more than prove that they believed the food had been so\nexpanded or multiplied that it was enough for them all? It would be\nconvincing, perhaps, as proof of an act of belief. But would it prove\nany more than that? Would it prove that these five thousand were not the\nvictims of some act of deception or of some delusion? A belief in a\nmiracle, whether the belief dates from two thousand years since or from\nlast week, proves only--belief. And the testimony of a Salvation Army\nconvert as to the truth of the resurrection of Jesus Christ is as good,\nas evidence, as though we had the sworn testimony of the twelve\napostles, with that of the grave-diggers thrown in.\n\nThe truth is that the question of belief in the miraculous has nothing\nwhatever to do with evidence. Miracles are never established by\nevidence, nor are they disproved by evidence, that is, so long as we use\nthe term evidence with any regard to its judicial significance. What\namount or what kind of evidence did the early Christians require to\nprove the miracles of Christianity? Or what evidence did our ancestors\nrequire to prove to them that old women flew through the air on\nbroomsticks, or bewitched cows, or raised storms? Testimony in volumes\nwas forthcoming, and there is not the slightest reason for doubting its\ngenuineness. But what amount or kind of evidence was required to\nestablish the belief? Was it evidence to which anyone to-day would pay\nthe slightest regard? The slightest study of the available records is\nenough to show that the question of evidence had nothing whatever to do\nwith the production of the belief.\n\nAnd, on the other hand, how many people have given up the belief in\nmiracles as a result of a careful study of the evidence against them? I\nhave never heard of any such case, although once a man disbelieves in\nmiracles he may be ready enough to produce reasons to justify his\ndisbelief in them. The man who begins to weigh evidence for and against\nmiracles has already begun to disbelieve them.\n\nThe attitude of children in relation to the belief in fairies may well\nbe taken to illustrate the attitude of the adult mind in face of the\nmiraculous. No evidence is produced to induce the belief in fairies, and\nnone is ever brought forward to induce them to give it up. At one stage\nof life it is there, at another it is gone. It is not reasoned out or\nevidenced out, it is simply outgrown. In infancy the child's conception\nof life is so inchoate that there is room for all kinds of fantastic\nbeliefs. In more mature years certain beliefs are automatically ruled\nout by the growth of a conception of things which leaves no room for\nbeliefs that during childhood seemed perfectly reasonable.\n\nNow this is quite on all-fours with the question of miracles. The issue\nis essentially one of psychology. Belief or disbelief is here mainly\ndetermined by the psychological medium in which one lives and moves.\nGiven a psychological medium which is, scientifically, at its lowest,\nand the belief in the miraculous flourishes. At the other extreme\nmiracles languish and decay. Tell a savage that the air is alive with\ngood and bad spirits and he will readily believe you. Tell it to a man\nwith a genuine scientific mind and he will laugh at you. Tell a peasant\nin some parts of the country that someone is a witch and he will at once\nbelieve it. Tell it to a city dweller and it will provide only occasion\nfor ridicule. People who accept miracles believe them before they\nhappen. The expressed belief merely registers the fact. Miracles never\nhappen to those who do not believe in them; as has been said, they never\noccur to a critic. Those who reject miracles do so because their\nacceptance would conflict with their whole conception of nature. That is\nthe sum and substance of the matter.\n\nA further illustration may be offered in the case of the once much\ndebated question of the authenticity of the books of the New Testament\nand the historicity of the figure of Jesus. It appears to have been\nassumed that if it could be shown that the books of the New Testament\nwere not contemporary records the case against the divinity of Jesus was\nstrengthened. On the other hand it was assumed that if these writings\nrepresented the narratives of contemporaries the case for the truth of\nthe narratives was practically proven. In reality this was not the vital\nissue at all. It would be, of course, interesting if it could be shown\nthat there once existed an actual personage around whom these stories\ngathered, but it would make as little difference to the real question at\nissue as the demonstration of the Baconian authorship of _Hamlet_ would\nmake in the psychological value of the play.\n\nSuppose then it were proven that a person named Jesus actually existed\nat a certain date in Judea, and that this person is the Jesus of the New\nTestament. Suppose it be further proven, or admitted, that the followers\nwhom this person gathered around him believed that he was born of a\nvirgin, performed a number of miracles, was crucified, and then rose\nfrom the dead, and that the New Testament represents their written\nmemoirs. Suppose all this to be proven or granted, what has been\nestablished? Simply this. That a number of people believed these things\nof someone whom they had known. But no Freethinker need seriously\nconcern himself to disprove this. He may, indeed, take it as the data of\nthe problem which he sets out to solve. The scientific enquirer is not\nreally concerned with the New Testament as a narrative of fact any more\nthan he is concerned with Cotton Mather's _Invisible World Displayed_ as\na narrative of actual fact. What he is concerned with is the frame of\nmind to which these stories seemed true, and the social medium which\ngave such a frame of mind a vogue. It is not at all a question of\nhistorical evidence, but of historical psychology. It is not a question\nof the honesty of the witnesses, but of their ability, not whether they\nwished to tell the truth, or intended to tell the truth, but whether\nthey were in a position to know what the truth was. We have not to\ndiscuss whether these events occurred, such a proposition is an insult\nto a civilized intelligence, the matter for discussion is the\nconditions that bring such beliefs into existence and the conditions\nthat perpetuate them.\n\nThe development of social life and of education thus shifts the point of\nview from the past to the present. To understand the past we do not ask\nwhat was it that people believed concerning the events around them, but\nwhat do we know of the causes which produce beliefs of a certain kind.\nThus, we do not really reject the story of Jesus turning water into wine\nbecause we are without legal evidence that he ever did anything of the\nkind, but because, knowing the chemical constituents of both water and\nwine we know that such a thing is impossible. It is only possible to an\nuninstructed mind to which water and wine differ only in taste or\nappearance. We do not reject the story of the demoniacs in the New\nTestament because we have no evidence that these men were possessed of\ndevils, or that Jesus cast them out, but because we have exactly the\nsame phenomena with us to-day and know that it comes within the province\nof the physician and not of the miracle worker. It is not a matter of\nevidence whether a man rose from the dead or not, or whether he was born\nof a virgin or not, but solely a question of examining these and similar\nstories in the light of present day knowledge. The \"evidence\" offered is\nproof only of belief, and no one ever questioned the existence of that.\nAnd if the proof of belief is required there is no need to go back a\ncouple of thousand years or to consult ancient records. The testimony of\na present day believer, and the account of a revival meeting such as one\nmay find in any religious newspaper will serve equally well. As is so\noften the case, the evidence offered is not merely inadequate, it is\nabsolutely irrelevant.\n\nPast events must be judged in the light of present knowledge. That is\nthe golden rule of guidance in judging the world's religious legends.\nAnd that canon is fatal to their pretensions. On the one hand we see in\nthe life of contemporary savages and in that of semi-civilized peoples\nall the conditions and the beliefs that meet us in the Bible and among\nthe early Christians. And with our wider and more exact knowledge we are\nable to take exactly the same phenomena that impressed those of an\nearlier generation and explain them without the slightest reference to\nsupernatural powers or beings. The modern mind is really not looking\nround for evidence to disprove the truth of Christian legends. It knows\nthey are not true. There is no greater need to prove that the miracles\nof Christianity never occurred, than there is to prove that an old woman\nnever raised a storm to wreck one of the kings of England. The issue has\nbeen changed from one of history to one of psychology. It is the present\nthat of necessity sits in judgment on the past, and it is in the light\nof the knowledge of the present that the religions of the past stand\ncondemned.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nMORALITY WITHOUT GOD.\n\n\nThe mystery-monger flourishes almost as well in ethics as he does in\ntheology. Indeed, in some respects he seems to have forsaken one field\nof exercise only to find renewed scope in the other. He approaches the\nconsideration of moral questions with the same hushed voice and\n\"reverential\" air that is so usual in theology, and talks of the mystery\nof morality with the same facility that he once talked about the mystery\nof godliness--and with about an equal amount of enlightenment to his\nhearers or readers.\n\nBut the mystery of morality is nearly all of our own making. Essentially\nthere is no more mystery in morality than there is in any other question\nthat may engage the attention of mankind. There are, of course, problems\nin the moral world as there are in the physical one, and he would be a\nfool who pretended to the ability to satisfactorily solve them all. The\nnature of morality, the causes that led to the development of moral\n\"laws,\" and still more to the development of a sense of morality, all\nthese are questions upon which there is ample room for research and\nspeculation. But the talk of a mystery is misleading and mystifying. It\nis the chatter of the charlatan, or of the theologian, or of the partly\nliberated mind that is still under the thraldom of theology. In ethics\nwe have exactly the same kind of problem that meets us in any of the\nsciences. We have a fact, or a series of facts, and we seek some\nexplanation of them. We may fail in our search, but that is not\nevidence of a \"mystery,\" it is proof only of inadequate knowledge, of\nlimitations that we may hope the future will enable us to overcome.\n\nFor the sake of clarity it will be better to let the meaning of morality\nemerge from the discussion rather than to commence with it. And one of\nthe first things to help to clear the mind of confusion is to get rid of\nthe notion that there is any such thing as moral \"laws\" which correspond\nin their nature to law as the term is used in science. In one sense\nmorality is not part of physical nature at all. It is characteristic of\nthat part of nature which is covered by the human--at most by the higher\nanimal--world. Nature can only, therefore, be said to be moral in the\nsense that the term \"Nature\" includes all that is. In any other sense\nnature is non-moral. The sense of values, which is, as we shall see, of\nthe essence of the conception of morality, nature knows nothing of. To\nspeak of nature punishing us for _bad_ actions or rewarding us for\n_good_ ones is absurd. Nature neither punishes nor rewards. She meets\nactions with consequences, and is quite indifferent to any moral\nconsideration. If I am weakly, and go out on a cold, wet night to help\nsomeone in distress, nature does not act differently than it would if I\nhad gone out to commit a murder. I stand exactly the same chances in\neither case of contracting a deadly chill. It is not the moral value of\nan action with which natural forces are concerned, but merely with the\naction, and in that respect nature never discriminates between the good\nman and the bad, between the sinner and the saint.\n\nThere is another sense in which moral laws differ from natural laws. We\ncan break the former but not the latter. The expression so often used,\n\"He broke a law of nature,\" is absurd. You cannot break a law of\nnature. You do not break the law of gravitation when you prevent a stone\nfalling to the ground; the force required to hold it in the air is an\nillustration of the law. It is, indeed, one of the proofs that our\ngeneralization does represent a law of nature that it cannot be\n\"broken.\" For broken is here only another word for inoperative, and a\nlaw of nature that is inoperative is non-existent. But in the moral\nsphere we are in a different world. We not only can break moral laws, we\ndo break them; that is one of the problems with which our teachers and\nmoralisers have constantly to deal. Every time we steal we break the law\n\"Thou shalt not steal.\" Every time we murder we break the law \"Thou\nshalt not kill.\" We may keep moral laws, we ought to keep them, but we\ncan, quite clearly, break them. Between a moral law and a law of nature\nthere is plainly a very radical distinction. The discovery of that\ndistinction will, I think, bring us to the heart of the subject.\n\nConsidering man as merely a natural object, or as a mere animal, there\nis only one quality that nature demands of him. This is efficiency.\nNature's sole law is here \"Be Strong.\" How that strength and efficiency\nis secured and maintained is of no consequence whatever. The heat he\nrequires, the food he needs may be stolen from others, but it will\nserve. The food will not nourish the less, the fire will not warm the\nless. So long as efficiency is acquired it is a matter of absolute\nindifference how it is secured. Considered as a mere animal object it is\ndifficult to see that morality has any meaning at all for man. It is\nwhen we come to regard him in his relation to others that we begin to\nsee the meaning and significance of morality emerge.\n\nNow one of the first things that strike us in connection with moral laws\nor rules is that they are all statements of relation. Such moral\ncommands as \"Thou shalt not steal,\" \"Thou shalt not kill,\" the commands\nto be truthful, kind, dutiful, etc., all imply a relation to others.\nApart from this relation moral rules have simply no meaning whatever. By\nhimself a man could neither steal, nor lie, nor do any of the things\nthat we habitually characterize as immoral. A man living by himself on\nsome island would be absolved from all moral law; it would have no\nmeaning whatever for him. He would be neither moral nor immoral, he\nwould simply be without the conditions that make morality possible. But\nonce bring him into relations with his kind and his behaviour begins to\nhave a new and peculiar significance, not alone to these others, but\nalso to himself. What he does affects them, and also affects himself so\nfar as they determine the character of his relations to these others. He\nmust, for example, either work with them or apart from them. He must\neither be on his guard against their securing their own efficiency at\nhis expense, or rest content that a mutual forbearance and trust will\ngovern their association. To ignore them is an impossibility. He must\nreckon with these others in a thousand and one different ways, and this\nreckoning will have its effect on the moulding of his nature and upon\ntheirs.\n\nMorality, then, whatever else it may be, is primarily the expression of\na relation. And the laws of morality are, consequently, a summary or\ndescription of those relations. From this point of view they stand upon\nexactly the same level as any of the arts or sciences. Moral actions are\nthe subject matter of observation, and the determination of their\nessential quality or character is by the same methods as we determine\nthe essential quality of the \"facts\" in chemistry or biology. The task\nbefore the scientific enquirer is, therefore, to determine the\nconditions which give to moral rules or \"laws\" their meaning and\nvalidity.\n\nOne of the conditions of a moral action has already been pointed out.\nThis is that all moral rules imply a relation to beings of a similar\nnature. A second feature is that conduct represents a form of\nefficiency, it is a special feature of the universal biological fact of\nadaptation. And the question of why man has a \"moral sense\" is really on\nall fours with, and presents no greater mystery than is involved in, the\nquestion of why man has digestive organs, and prefers some kinds of food\nto others. Substantially, the question of why man should prefer a diet\nof meat and potatoes to one of prussic acid is exactly the question of\nwhy society should discourage certain actions and encourage others, or\nwhy man's moral taste should prefer some forms of conduct to other\nforms. The answer to both questions, while differing in form, is the\nsame in substance.\n\nMan as we know him is always found as a member of a group, and his\ncapacities, his feelings, and tastes must always be considered in\nrelation to that fact. But considering man merely as an animal, and his\nconduct as merely a form of adaptation to environment, the plain\nconsideration which emerges is that even as an individual organism he is\ncompelled, in order to live, to avoid certain actions and to perform\nothers, to develop certain tastes and to form certain distastes. To take\nour previous illustration it would be impossible for man to develop a\nliking for life-destroying foods. It is one of the conditions of living\nthat he shall eat only that food which sustains life, or that he shall\nabstain from eating substances which destroy it. But conduct at that\nstage is not of the kind which considers the reasons for acting; indeed,\nlife cannot be based upon considered action, however much reason may\njustify the actions taken. Further, as all conscious action is prompted\nby the impulse to do what is pleasant and to avoid what is unpleasant,\nit follows, as Spencer pointed out, that the course of evolution sets up\na close relation between actions that are pleasurable in the performance\nand actions that are life preserving. It is one of the conditions of the\nmaintenance of life that the pleasurable and the beneficial shall in the\nlong run coincide.\n\nWhen we take man as a member of a group we have the same principle in\noperation, even though the form of its expression undergoes alteration.\nTo begin with, the mere fact of living in a group implies the growth of\na certain restraint in one's relations to, and of reciprocity in dealing\nwith, others. Men can no more live together without some amount of trust\nand confidence in each other, or without a crude sense of justice in\ntheir dealings with each other, than an individual man can maintain his\nlife by eating deadly poisons. There must be a respect for the rights of\nothers, of justice in dealing with others, and of confidence in\nassociating with others, at least to the extent of not threatening the\npossibility of group life. There are rules in the game of social life\nthat must be observed, and in its own defence society is bound to\nsuppress those of its members who exhibit strong anti-social tendencies.\nNo society can, for example, tolerate homicide as an admitted practice.\nThere is, thus, from the earliest times, a certain form of elimination\nof the anti-social character which results in the gradual formation of\nan emotional and mental disposition that habitually and instinctively\nfalls into line with the requirements of the social whole.\n\nTo use an expression of Sir Leslie Stephen's, man as a member of the\ngroup becomes a cell in the social tissue, and his fitness to survive is\ndependent upon, positively, his readiness to perform such actions as the\nwelfare of the group require, and, negatively, upon his refraining from\ndoing those things that are inimical to social welfare.[23] Moreover,\nthere is the additional fact that the group itself is, as a whole,\nbrought into contact with other groups, and the survival of one group as\nagainst another is determined by the quality and the degree of cohesion\nof its units. From this point of view, participation in the life of the\ngroup means more than refraining from acts that are injurious to the\ngroup, it involves some degree of positive contribution to social\nwelfare.\n\n[23] The question of what are the things that are essential to the\nwelfare of the group, and the fact that individuals are often suppressed\nfor doing what they believe is beneficial to the group, with the kindred\nfact that there may exist grave differences of opinion on the matter,\ndoes not alter the essential point, which is that there must exist\nsufficient conformity between conduct and group welfare to secure\nsurvival.\n\nBut the main thing to note is that from the very dawn of animal life the\norganism is more or less under the pressure of a certain discipline that\ntends to establish an identity between actions which there is a tendency\nto perform and those that are beneficial to the organism. In the social\nstate we simply have this principle expressed in another way, and it\ngives a degree of conscious adaptation that is absent from the\npre-social or even the lower forms of the social state. It is in the\ntruly social state also that we get the full influence of what may be\ncalled the characteristically human environment, that is, the operation\nof ideas and ideals. The importance of this psychological factor in the\nlife of man has been stressed in an earlier chapter. It is enough now to\npoint out that from the earliest moment the young human being is, by a\nprocess of training, imbued with certain ideals of truthfulness,\nloyalty, duty, etc., all of which play their part in the moulding of his\ncharacter. However much these ideals may vary in different societies,\nthe fact of the part played by them in moulding character is plain. They\nare the dominant forces in moulding the individual to the social state,\neven while the expressions of the social life may be in turn checked by\nthe fact that social conduct cannot persist if it threatens those\nconditions upon which the persistence of life ultimately depends.\n\nThere is one other consideration that must be noted. One very pregnant\nfact in life is that nature seldom creates a new organ. What it usually\ndoes is to refashion an old one, or to devote an old one to new uses.\nThis principle may be seen clearly in operation in connection with moral\nevolution. On the one hand the various forces that play upon human\nnature drive the moral feelings deeper into it. On the other hand it\ndevelops them by their steady expansion over a wider area. Whether it is\nan actual fact or not--I do not stress it because the point is the\nsubject of discussion--it is at least possible that the earliest human\ngroup is the family. And so long as that was the case such feelings of\nright and wrong as then existed will have been confined to the family.\nBut when a group of families combine and form the tribe, all those\nfeelings of confidence, justice, etc., which were formerly\ncharacteristic of the smaller group are expanded to cover the larger\none. With the expansion of the tribe to the nation we have a further\ndevelopment of the same phenomenon. There is no new creation, there is\nnothing more than expansion and development.\n\nThe process does not and cannot, obviously, stop here. From the tribe to\nthe nation, from the nation to the collection of nations which we call\nan empire, and from the empire to the whole of humanity. That seems the\ninevitable direction of the process, and there does not require profound\ninsight to see it already on the way. Development of national life\ninvolves a growing interdependence of the world of humankind. Of hardly\nany nation can it be said to-day that it is self-supporting or\nself-contained or independent. There is nothing national or sectarian in\nscience, and it is to science that we have to look for our principal\nhelp. All over the world we utilize each other's discoveries and profit\nby each other's knowledge. Even economic interdependence carries with it\nthe same lesson. The human environment gets gradually broader and wider,\nand the feelings that have hitherto been expanded over the narrower area\nhave now to be expanded over the wider one. It is the gradual\ndevelopment of a human nature that is becoming adapted to a conception\nof mankind as an organic unit. Naturally, in the process of adaptation\nthere is conflict between the narrower ideals, conserved in our\neducational influences, and the wider ones. There are still large\nnumbers of those who, unable to picture the true nature of the\nevolutionary process owing to their own defective education, yet think\nof the world in terms of a few centuries ago, and still wave the flag of\na political nationalism as though that were the end of social growth,\ninstead of its being an early and transient expression of it. But this\nconflict is inevitable, and the persistence of that type can no more\nensure its permanent domination than the persistence of the medicine man\nin the person of the existing clergyman can give permanence to the\nreligious idea.\n\nThere is, then, no mystery about the fact of morality. It is no more of\na mystery than is the compilation of the multiplication table, and it\nhas no greater need of a supernatural sanction than has the law of\ngravitation. Morality is a natural fact, and its enforcement and growth\nare brought about by natural means. In its lower form, morality is no\nmore than an expression of those conditions under which social life is\npossible, and in its higher one, an expression of those ideal conditions\nunder which corporate life is desirable. In studying morality we are\nreally studying the physiology of associated life, and that study aims\nat the determination of the conditions under which the best form of\nliving is possible. It is thus that here, as elsewhere, man is thrown\nback upon himself for enlightenment and help. And if the process is a\nslow one we may at least console ourselves with the reflection that the\nlabours of each generation are making the weapons which we bring to the\nfight keener and better able to do their work.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nMORALITY WITHOUT GOD.\n\n(_Continued._)\n\n\nIn the preceding chapter I have been concerned with providing the most\nmeagre of skeleton outlines of the way in which our moral laws and our\nmoral sense have come into existence. To make this as clear as possible\nthe chapter was restricted to exposition. Controversial points were\navoided. And as a matter of fact there are many religionists who might\nconcede the truth of what has been said concerning the way in which\nmorality has arisen, and the nature of the forces that have assisted in\nits development. But they would proceed to argue, as men like Mr.\nBalfour and Mr. Benjamin Kidd, with others of the like, have argued,\nthat a natural morality lacks all coercive power. The Freethought\nexplanation of morality, they say, is plausible enough, and may be\ncorrect, but in conduct we have to deal not merely with the correctness\nof things but with sanctions and motives that exercise a compulsive\ninfluence on men and women. The religionist, it is argued, has such a\ncompulsive force in the belief in God and in the effect on our future\nlife of our obedience or disobedience to his commands. But what kind of\ncoercion can a purely naturalistic system of morals exert? If a man is\ncontent to obey the naturalistic command to practise certain virtues and\nto abstain from certain vices, well and good. But suppose he chooses to\ndisregard it. What then? Above all, on what compulsion is a man to\ndisregard his own inclinations to act as seems desirable to himself,\nand not in conformity with the general welfare? We disregard the\nreligious appeal as pure sentimentalism, or worse, and we at once\ninstitute an ethical sentimentalism which is, in practice, foredoomed to\nfailure.\n\nOr to put the same point in another way. Each individual, we say, should\nso act as to promote the general welfare. Freethinker and religionist\nare in agreement here. And so long as one's inclinations jump with the\nadvice no difficulty presents itself. But suppose a man's inclinations\ndo not run in the desired direction? You tell him that he must act so as\nto promote the general well-being, and he replies that he is not\nconcerned with the promotion of the public welfare. You say that he\n_ought_ to act differently, and he replies, \"My happiness must consist\nin what I regard as such, not in other people's conception of what it\nshould be.\" You proceed to point out that by persisting in his present\nline of conduct he is laying up trouble for the future, and he retorts,\n\"I am willing to take the risk.\" What is to be done with him? Can\nnaturalism show that in acting in that way a man is behaving\nunreasonably, that is, in the sense that he can be shown to be really\nacting against his own interests, and that if he knew better he would\nact differently?\n\nNow before attempting a reply to this it is worth while pointing out\nthat whatever strength there may be in this criticism when directed\nagainst naturalism, it is equally strong when directed against\nsupernaturalism. We can see this at once if we merely vary the terms.\nYou tell a man to act in this or that way \"in the name of God.\" He\nreplies, \"I do not believe in God,\" and your injunction loses all force.\nOr, if he believes in God, and you threaten him with the pains and\npenalties of a future life, he may reply, \"I am quite willing to risk a\nprobable punishment hereafter for a certain pleasure here.\" And it is\ncertain that many do take the risk, whether they express their\ndetermination to do so in as many words or not.\n\nWhat is a supernaturalist compelled to do in this case? His method of\nprocedure is bound to be something like the following. First of all he\nwill seek to create assent to a particular proposition such as \"God\nexists, and also that a belief in his existence creates an obligation to\nact in this or that manner in accordance with what is believed to be his\nwill.\" That proposition once established, his next business will be to\nbring the subject's inclinations into line with a prescribed course of\naction. He is thus acting in precisely the same manner as is the\nnaturalist who starts from an altogether different set of premises. And\nboth are resting their teaching of morals upon an intellectual\nproposition to which assent is either implied or expressed. And that\nlies at the basis of all ethical teaching--not ethical practice, be it\nobserved, but teaching. The precise form in which this intellectual\nproposition is cast matters little. It may be the existence of God, or\nit may be a particular view of human nature or of human evolution, but\nit is there, and in either case the authoritative character of moral\nprecepts exists for such as accept it, and for none other. Moral\npractice is rooted in life, but moral theory is a different matter.\n\nSo far, then, it is clear that the complaint that Freethought ethics has\nnothing about it of a compulsive or authoritative character is either a\nbegging of the question or it is absurd.\n\nNaturalistic ethics really assert three things. The first is that the\ncontinuance of life ensures the performance of a certain level of\nconduct, conduct being merely one of the means by which human beings\nreact to the necessities of their environment. Second, it asserts that\na proper understanding of the conditions of existence will in the\nnormally constituted mind strengthen the development of a feeling of\nobligation to act in such and such a manner; and that while all\nnon-reasonable conduct is not immoral, all immoral conduct is\nfundamentally irrational. Third, there is the further assumption that at\nbottom individual and general welfare are not contradictory, but two\naspects of the same thing.\n\nConcerning the second point, Sir Leslie Stephen warns us (_Science of\nEthics_, p. 437) that every attempt so to state the ethical principle\nthat disobedience will be \"unreasonable\" is \"doomed to failure in a\nworld which is not made up of working syllogisms.\" And for the other two\npoints Professor Sorley (_Ethics of Naturalism_, p. 42) tells us that\n\"It is difficult ... to offer any consideration fitted to convince the\nindividual that it is reasonable for him to seek the happiness of the\ncommunity rather than his own\"; while Mr. Benjamin Kidd asserts that\n\"the interests of the individual and those of the social organism are\nnot either identical or capable of being reconciled, as has been\nnecessarily assumed in all those systems of ethics which have sought to\nestablish a naturalistic basis of conduct. The two are fundamentally and\ninherently irreconcilable, and a large proportion of the existing\nindividuals at any time have ... no personal interest whatever in the\nprogress of the race, or in the social development we are undergoing.\"\n\nIt has already been said that however difficult it may be to establish\nthe precise relationship between reason and ethical commands, such a\nconnection must be assumed, whether we base our ethics on naturalistic\nor supernaturalistic considerations. And it cannot be denied by anyone\nto-day that a causal relation must exist between actions and their\nconsequences, whether those causal consequences be of the natural and\nnon-moral kind, or of the more definitely moral order such as exists in\nthe shape of social approval and disapproval. And if we once grant that,\nthen it seems quite allowable to assume that provided a man perceives\nthe reason underlying moral judgments, and also the justification for\nthe sense of approval and disapproval expressed, we have as much reason\nfor calling his conduct reasonable or unreasonable as we have for\napplying the same terms to a man's behaviour in dressing in view of the\nvariations of the temperature.\n\nConsequently, while I agree that _in the present state of knowledge_ it\nis impossible in all cases to demonstrate that immoral conduct is\nirrational in the sense that it would be unreasonable to refuse assent\nto a mathematical proposition, there seems no justification for\nregarding such a state of things as of necessity permanent. If a\nscientific system of ethics consists in formulating rules for the\nprofitable guidance of life, not only does their formulation presuppose\na certain constancy in the laws of human nature and of the world in\ngeneral, but the assumption is also involved that one day it may be\npossible to give to moral laws the same precision that now is attached\nto physiological laws and to label departure from them as \"unreasonable\"\nin a very real sense of the word.\n\nThe other objection that it is impossible to establish a \"reasonable\"\nrelation between individual and social well-being arises from a dual\nconfusion as to what is the proper sphere of ethics, and of the mutual\nrelation of the individual and society. To take an individual and ask,\n\"Why should he act so as to promote the general welfare?\" is to imply\nthat ethical rules may have an application to man out of relation with\nhis fellows. That, we have already seen, is quite wrong, since moral\nrules fail to be intelligible once we separate man from his fellows.\nDiscussing ethics while leaving out social life is like discussing the\nfunctions of the lungs and leaving out of account the existence of an\natmosphere.\n\nIf, then, instead of treating the individual and society as two distinct\nthings, either of which may profit at the expense of the other, we treat\nthem as two sides of the same thing, each an abstraction when treated\nalone, the problem is simplified, and the solution becomes appreciably\neasier. For the essential truth here is that just as there is no such\nthing as a society in the absence of the individuals composing it, so\nthe individual, as we know him, disappears when we strip him of all that\nhe is in virtue of his being a part of the social structure. Every one\nof the characteristic human qualities has been developed in response to\nthe requirements of the social medium. It is in virtue of this that\nmorality has anything of an imperative nature connected with it, for if\nman is, to use Sir Leslie Stephen's phrase, a cell in the social tissue,\nreceiving injury as the body social is injured, and benefitting as it is\nbenefitted, then the refusal of a man to act so that he may promote the\ngeneral welfare can be shown to be unreasonable, and also unprofitable\nto the individual himself. In other words, our efficiency as an\nindividual must be measured in terms of our fitness to form part of the\nsocial structure, and consequently the antithesis between social and\npersonal well-being is only on the surface. Deeper knowledge and a more\nexact understanding reveals them as two sides of the same fact.\n\nIt may be granted to Mr. Kidd that \"a large proportion of the existing\nindividuals at any time\" have no _conscious_ interest in \"the progress\nof the race or in the development we are undergoing,\" and that is only\nwhat one would expect, but it would be absurd to therefore come to the\nconclusion that no such identity of interest exists. Moliere's\ncharacter, who all his life had been talking prose without knowing it,\nis only a type of the majority of folk who all their lives are acting in\naccordance with principles of which they are ignorant, and which they\nmay even repudiate when they are explained to them. From one point of\nview the whole object of a scientific morality is to awaken a conscious\nrecognition of the principles underlying conduct, and by this means to\nstrengthen the disposition to right action. We make explicit in language\nwhat has hitherto been implicit in action, and thus bring conscious\neffort to the aid of non-conscious or semi-conscious behaviour.\n\nIn the light of the above consideration the long and wordy contest that\nhas been waged between \"Altruists\" and \"Egoists\" is seen to be very\nlargely a waste of time and a splutter of words. If it can be shown on\nthe one hand that all men are not animated by the desire to benefit\nself, it is as easy to demonstrate that so long as human nature is human\nnature, all conduct must be an expression of individual character, and\nthat even the morality of self-sacrifice is self-regarding viewed from\nthe personal feelings of the agent. And it being clear that the position\nof Egoist and Altruist, while each expressing a truth, is neither\nexpressing the whole truth, and that each does in fact embody a definite\nerror, it seems probable that here, as in so many other cases, the truth\nlies between the two extremes, and that a reconciliation may be effected\nalong these lines.\n\nTaking animal life as a whole it is at least clear that what are called\nthe self-regarding feelings must come first in order of development.\nEven with the lower races of human beings there is less concern shown\nwith the feelings and welfare of others than is the case with the\nhigher races of men. Or, again, with children we have these feelings\nstrongest in childhood and undergoing a gradual expansion as maturity is\nreached. This is brought about, as was shown in the last chapter, not by\nthe destruction of existing feelings, but by their extension to an ever\nwidening area. There is a transformation, or an elaboration of existing\nfeelings under the pressure of social growth. One may say that ethical\ndevelopment does not proceed by the destruction of the feeling of\nself-interest, so much as by its extension to a wider field. Ethical\ngrowth is thus on all fours with biological growth. In biology we are\nall familiar with the truth that maintenance of life is dependent upon\nthe existence of harmonious relations between an organism and its\nenvironment. Yet it is not always recognized that this principle is as\ntrue of the moral self as it is of the physical structure, nor that in\nhuman evolution the existence of others becomes of increasing importance\nand significance. For not only do I have to adapt myself, mentally and\nmorally, to the society now existing, but also to societies that have\nlong since passed away and have left their contribution to the building\nup of _my_ environment in the shape of institutions and beliefs and\nliterature.\n\nWe have in this one more illustration that while the environment of the\nanimal is overwhelmingly physical in character, that of man tends to\nbecome overwhelmingly social or psychological. Desires are created that\ncan only be gratified by the presence and the labour of others. Feelings\narise that have direct reference to others, and in numerous ways a body\nof \"altruistic\" feeling is created. So by social growth first, and\nafterwards by reflection, man is taught that the only life that is\nenjoyable to himself is one that is lived in the companionship and by\nthe co-operation of others. As Professor Ziegler well puts the\nprocess:--\n\n     Not only on the one hand does it concern the interests of the\n     general welfare that every individual should take care of himself\n     outwardly and inwardly; maintain his health; cultivate his\n     faculties and powers; sustain his position, honour, and worth, and\n     so his own welfare being secured, diffuse around him happiness and\n     comfort; but also, on the other hand, it concerns the personal,\n     well understood interests of the individual himself that he should\n     promote the interests of others, contribute to their happiness,\n     serve their interests, and even make sacrifices for them. Just as\n     one forgoes a momentary pleasure in order to secure a lasting and\n     greater enjoyment, so the individual willingly sacrifices his\n     personal welfare and comfort for the sake of society in order to\n     share in the welfare of this society; he buries his individual\n     well-being in order that he may see it rise in richer and fuller\n     abundance in the welfare and happiness of the whole community\n     (_Social Ethics_, pp. 59-60).\n\nThese motives are not of necessity conscious ones. No one imagines that\nbefore performing a social action each one sits down and goes through a\nmore or less elaborate calculation. All that has been written on this\nhead concerning a \"Utilitarian calculus\" is poor fun and quite beside\nthe mark. In this matter, as in so many others, it is the evolutionary\nprocess which demands consideration, and generations of social struggle,\nby weeding out individuals whose inclinations were of a pronounced\nanti-social kind, and tribes in which the cohesion between its members\nwas weak, have resulted in bringing about more or less of an\nidentification between individual desires and the general welfare. It is\nnot a question of conscious evolution so much as of our becoming\nconscious of an evolution that is taking place, and in discussing the\nnature of morals one is bound to go beyond the expressed reasons for\nconduct--more often wrong than right--and discover the deeper and truer\ncauses of instincts and actions. When this is done it will be found that\nwhile it is absolutely impossible to destroy the connection between\nconduct and self-regarding actions, there is proceeding a growing\nidentity between the gratification of desire and the well-being of the\nwhole. This will be, not because of some fantastical or ascetic teaching\nof self-sacrifice, but because man being an expression of social life is\nbound to find in activities that have a social reference the beginning\nand end of his conduct.\n\nThe fears of a morality without God are, therefore, quite unfounded. If\nwhat has been said be granted, it follows that all ethical rules are\nprimarily on the same level as a generalization in any of the sciences.\nJust as the \"laws\" of astronomy or of biology reduce to order the\napparently chaotic phenomena of their respective departments, so ethical\nlaws seek to reduce to an intelligible order the conditions of\nindividual and social betterment. There can be no ultimate antithesis\nbetween individual reason and the highest form of social conduct,\nalthough there may exist an apparent conflict between the two, chiefly\nowing to the fact that we are often unable to trace the remote effects\nof conduct on self and society. Nor can there be an ultimate or\npermanent conflict between the true interests of the individual and of\nsociety at large. That such an opposition does exist in the minds of\nmany is true, but it is here worthy of note that the clearest and most\nprofound thinkers have always found in the field of social effort the\nbest sphere for the gratification of their desires. And here again we\nmay confidently hope that an increased and more accurate appreciation\nof the causes that determine human welfare will do much to diminish\nthis antagonism. At any rate it is clear that human nature has been\nmoulded in accordance with the reactions of self and society in such a\nway that even the self has become an expression of social life, and with\nthis dual aspect before us there is no reason why emphasis should be\nlaid on one factor rather than on the other.\n\nTo sum up. Eliminating the form of coercion that is represented by a\npoliceman, earthly or otherwise, we may safely say that a naturalistic\nethics has all the coercive force that can be possessed by any system.\nAnd it has this advantage over the coercive force of the\nsupernaturalist, that while the latter tends to weaken with the advance\nof intelligence, the former gains strength as men and women begin to\nmore clearly appreciate the true conditions of social life and\ndevelopment. It is in this way that there is finally established a\nconnection between what is \"reasonable\" and what is right. In this case\nit is the function of reason to discover the forces that have made for\nthe moralization--really the socialization--of man, and so strengthen\nman's moral nature by demonstrating the fundamental identity between his\nown welfare and that of the group to which he belongs. That the coercion\nmay in some cases be quite ineffective must be admitted. There will\nalways, one fancies, be cases where the personal character refuses to\nadapt itself to the current social state. That is a form of\nmal-adaptation which society will always have to face, exactly as it has\nto face cases of atavism in other directions. But the socializing and\nmoralizing process continues. And however much this may be, in its\nearlier stages, entangled with conceptions of the supernatural, it is\ncertain that growth will involve the disappearance of that factor here\nas it has done elsewhere.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\nCHRISTIANITY AND MORALITY.\n\n\nThe association of religion with morality is a very ancient one. This is\nnot because the one is impossible without the other, we have already\nshown that this is not the case. The reason is that unless religious\nbeliefs are associated with certain essential social activities their\ncontinuance is almost impossible. Thus it happens in the course of\nsocial evolution that just in proportion as man learns to rely upon the\npurely social activities to that extent religion is driven to dwell more\nupon them and to claim kinship with them.\n\nWhile this is true of religions in general, it applies with peculiar\nforce to Christianity. And in the last two or three centuries we have\nseen the emphasis gradually shifted from a set of doctrines, upon the\nacceptance of which man's eternal salvation depends, to a number of\nethical and social teachings with which Christianity, as such, has no\nvital concern. The present generation of Christian believers has had\nwhat is called the moral aspect of Christianity so constantly impressed\nupon them, and the essential and doctrinal aspect so slurred over, that\nmany of them have come to accept the moral teaching associated with\nChristianity as its most important aspect. More than that, they have\ncome to regard the immense superiority of Christianity as one of those\nstatements the truth of which can be doubted by none but the most\nobtuse. To have this alleged superiority of Christian ethical teaching\nquestioned appears to them proof of some lack of moral development on\nthe part of the questioner.\n\nTo this type of believer it will come with something of a shock to be\ntold quite plainly and without either circumlocution or apology that his\nreligion is of an intensely selfish and egoistic character, and that its\nethical influence is of a kind that is far from admirable. It will shock\nhim because he has for so long been told that his religion is the very\nquintessence of unselfishness, he has for so long been telling it to\nothers, and he has been able for so many generations to make it\nuncomfortable for all those who took an opposite view, that he has\ncamouflaged both the nature of his own motives and the tendency of his\nreligion.\n\nFrom one point of view this is part of the general scheme in virtue of\nwhich the Christian Church has given currency to the legend that the\ndoctrines taught by it represented a tremendous advance in the\ndevelopment of the race. In sober truth it represented nothing of the\nkind. That the elements of Christian religious teaching existed long\nbefore Christianity as a religious system was known to the world is now\na commonplace with all students of comparative religions, and is\nadmitted by most Christian writers of repute. Even in form the Christian\ndoctrines represented but a small advance upon their pagan prototypes,\nbut it is only when one bears in mind the fact that the best minds of\nantiquity were rapidly throwing off these superstitions and leading the\nworld to a more enlightened view of things, we realize that in the main\nChristianity represented a step backward in the intellectual evolution\nof the race. What we then see is Christianity reaffirming and\nre-establishing most of the old superstitions in forms in which only the\nmore ignorant classes of antiquity accepted them. We have an assertion\nof demonism in its crudest forms, an affirmation of the miraculous that\nthe educated in the Roman world had learned to laugh at, and which is\nto-day found among the savage people of the earth, while every form of\nscientific thought was looked upon as an act of impiety. The scientific\neclipse that overtook the old pagan civilization was one of the\ninevitable consequences of the triumph of Christianity. From the point\nof view of general culture the retrogressive nature of Christianity is\nunmistakable. It has yet to be recognized that the same statement holds\ngood in relation even to religion. One day the world will appreciate the\nfact that no greater disaster ever overtook the world than the triumph\nof the Christian Church.\n\nFor the moment, however, we are only concerned with the relation of\nChristianity to morality. And here my thesis is that Christianity is an\nessentially selfish creed masking its egoistic impulses under a cover of\nunselfishness and self-sacrifice. To that it will probably be said that\nthe charge breaks down on the fact that Christian teaching is full of\nthe exhortation that this world is of no moment, that we gain salvation\nby learning to ignore its temptations and to forgo its pleasures, and\nthat it is, above all other faiths, the religion of personal sacrifice.\nAnd that this teaching is there it would be stupid to deny. But this\ndoes not disprove what has been said, indeed, analysis only serves to\nmake the truth still plainer. That many Christians have given up the\nprizes of the world is too plain to be denied; that they have forsaken\nall that many struggle to possess is also plain. But when this has been\nadmitted there still remains the truth that there is a vital distinction\nin the consideration of whether a man gives up the world in order to\nsave his own soul, or whether he saves his soul as a consequence of\nlosing the world. In this matter it is the aim that is important, not\nonly to the outsider who may be passing judgment, but more importantly\nto the agent himself. It is the effect of the motive on character with\nits subsequent flowering in social life that must be considered.\n\nThe first count in the indictment here is that the Christian appeal is\nessentially a selfish one. The aim is not the saving of others but of\none's self. If other people must be saved it is because their salvation\nis believed to be essential to the saving of one's own soul. That this\ninvolves, or may involve, a surrender of one's worldly possessions or\ncomfort, is of no moment. Men will forgo many pleasures and give up much\nwhen they have what they believe to be a greater purpose in view. We see\nthis in directions quite unconnected with religion. Politics will show\nus examples of men who have forsaken many of what are to others the\ncomforts of life in the hopes of gaining power and fame. Others will\ndeny themselves many pleasures in the prospect of achieving some end\nwhich to them is of far greater value than the things they are\nrenouncing. And it is the same principle that operates in the case of\nreligious devotees. There is no reason to doubt but that when a young\nwoman forsakes the world and goes into a cloister she is surrendering\nmuch that has considerable attractions for her. But what she gives is to\nher of small importance to what she gains in return. And if one believed\nin Christianity, in immortal damnation, with the intensity of the great\nChristian types of character, it would be foolish not to surrender\nthings of so little value for others of so great and transcendent\nimportance.\n\nTo do Christians justice they have not usually made a secret of their\naim. Right through Christian literature there runs the teaching that it\nis the desire of personal and immortal salvation that inspires them, and\nthey have affirmed over and over again that but for the prospect of\nbeing paid back with tremendous interest in the next world they could\nsee no reason for being good in this one. That is emphatically the\nteaching of the New Testament and of the greatest of Christian\ncharacters. You are to give in secret that you may be rewarded openly,\nto cast your bread upon the waters that it may be returned to you, and\nPaul's counsel is that if there be no resurrection from the dead then we\nmay eat, drink, and be merry for death only is before us. Thus, what you\ndo is in the nature of a deliberate and conscious investment on which\nyou will receive a handsome dividend in the next world. And your\nreadiness to invest will be exactly proportionate to your conviction of\nthe soundness of the security. But there is in all this no perception of\nthe truly ethical basis of conduct, no indication of the inevitable\nconsequences of conduct on character. What is good is determined by what\nit is believed will save one's own soul and increase the dividend in the\nnext world. What is bad is anything that will imperil the security. It\nis essentially an appeal to what is grasping and selfish in human\nnature, and while you may hide the true character of a thing by the\nlavish use of attractive phrases, you cannot hinder it working out its\nconsequences in actual life. And the consequence of this has been that\nwhile Christian teaching has been lavish in the use of attractive\nphrases its actual result has been to create a type of character that\nhas been not so much immoral as _a_moral. And with that type the good\nthat has been done on the one side has been more than counterbalanced by\nthe evil done on the other.\n\nWhat the typical Christian character had in mind in all that he did was\nneither the removal of suffering nor of injustice, but the salvation of\nhis own soul. That justified everything so long as it was believed to\ncontribute to that end. The social consequences of what was done simply\ndid not count. And if, instead of taking mere phrases from the\nprincipal Christian writers, we carefully examine their meaning we shall\nsee that they were strangely devoid of what is now understood by the\nexpression \"moral incentive.\" The more impressive the outbreak of\nChristian piety the clearer does this become. No one could have\nillustrated the Christian ideal of self-sacrifice better than did the\nsaints and monks of the earlier Christian centuries. Such a character as\nthe famous St. Simon Stylites, living for years on his pillar, filthy\nand verminous, and yet the admired of Christendom, with the lives of\nnumerous other saints, whose sole claim to be remembered is that they\nlived the lives of worse than animals in the selfish endeavours to save\ntheir shrunken souls, will well illustrate this point. If it entered the\ndiseased imagination of these men that the road to salvation lay through\nattending to the sick and the needy, they were quite ready to labour in\nthat direction; but of any desire to remove the horrible social\nconditions that prevailed, or to remedy the injustice of which their\nclients were the victims, there is seldom a trace. And, on the other\nhand, if they believed that their salvation involved getting away from\nhuman society altogether and leading the life of a hermit, they were as\nready to do that. If it meant the forsaking of husband or wife or parent\nor child, these were left without compunction, and their desertion was\ncounted as proof of righteousness. The lives of the saints are full of\nillustrations of this. Professor William James well remarks, in his\n_Varieties of Religious Experience_, that \"In gentle characters, where\ndevoutness is intense and the intellect feeble, we have an imaginative\nabsorption in the love of God to the exclusion of all practical human\ninterests.... When the love of God takes possession of such a mind it\nexpels all human loves and human uses.\" Of the Blessed St. Mary\nAlacoque, her biographer points out that as she became absorbed in the\nlove of Christ she became increasingly useless to the practical life of\nthe convent. Of St. Teresa, James remarks that although a woman of\nstrong intellect his impression of her was a feeling of pity that so\nmuch vitality of soul should have found such poor employment. And of so\nfamous a character as St. Augustine a Christian writer, Mr. A. C.\nBenson, remarks:--\n\n     I was much interested in reading St. Augustine's _Confessions_\n     lately to recognize how small a part, after his conversion, any\n     aspirations for the welfare of humanity seem to play in his mind\n     compared with the consciousness of his own personal relations with\n     God. It was this which gave him his exuberant sense of joy and\n     peace, and his impulse was rather the impulse of sharing a\n     wonderful and beautiful secret with others than an immediate desire\n     for their welfare, forced out of him, so to speak, by his own\n     exultation rather than drawn out of him by compassion for the needs\n     of others.\n\nThat is one of the most constant features which emerges from a careful\nstudy of the character of Christian types. St. Francis commenced his\ncareer by leaving his parents. John Fox did the same. In that Puritan\nclassic, _The Pilgrim's Progress_, one of the outstanding features is\nthe striking absence of emphasis on the value of the social and domestic\nvirtues, and the Rev. Principal Donaldson notes this as one of the\nfeatures of early Christian literature in general. Christian preaching\nwas for centuries full of contemptuous references to \"filthy rags of\nrighteousness,\" \"mere morality,\" etc. The aim of the saints was a purely\nselfish and personal one. It was not even a refined or a metaphysical\nselfishness. It was a simple teaching that the one thing essential was\nto save one's own soul, and that the main reason for doing good in this\nworld was to reap a benefit from it in the world to come. If it can\nproperly be called morality, it was conduct placed out at the highest\nrate of interest. Christianity may often have used a naturally lofty\ncharacter, it was next to impossible for it to create one.\n\nIf one examines the attack made by Christians upon Freethought morality,\nit is surprising how often the truth of what has been said is implied.\nFor the complaint here is, in the main, not that naturalism fails to\ngive an adequate account of the nature and development of morality, but\nthat it will not satisfy mankind, and so fails to act as an adequate\nmotive to right conduct. When we enquire precisely what is meant by\nthis, we learn that if there is no belief in God, and if there is no\nexpectation of a future state in which rewards and punishments will be\ndispensed, there remains no inducement to the average man or woman to do\nright. It is the moral teaching of St. Paul over again. We are in the\nregion of morality as a deliberate investment, and we have the threat\nthat if the interest is not high enough or certain enough to satisfy the\ndividend hunting appetite of the true believer, then the investment will\nbe withdrawn. Really this is a complaint, not that the morality which\nignores Christianity is too low but that it is too high. It is doubted\nwhether human nature, particularly Christian human nature, can rise to\nsuch a level, and whether, unless you can guarantee a Christian a\nsuitable reward for not starving his family or for not robbing his\nneighbour, he will continue to place any value on decency or honesty.\n\nSo to state the case makes the absurdity of the argument apparent, but\nunless that is what is meant it is difficult to make it intelligible. To\nreply that Christians do not require these inducements to behave with a\ntolerable amount of decency is not a statement that I should dispute; on\nthe contrary, I would affirm it. It is the Christian defender who makes\nhimself and his fellow believers worse than the Freethinker believes\nthem to be. For it is part of the case of the Freethinker that the\nmorality of the Christian has really no connection with his religion,\nand that the net influence of his creed is to confuse and distort his\nmoral sense instead of developing it. It is the argument of the\nChristian that makes the Freethinker superior to the Christian; it is\nthe Freethinker who declines the compliment and who asserts that the\nsocial forces are adequate to guarantee the continuance of morality in\nthe complete absence of religious belief.\n\nHow little the Christian religion appreciates the nature of morality is\nseen by the favourite expression of Christian apologists that the\ntendency of non-religion is to remove all moral \"restraints.\" The use of\nthe word is illuminating. To the Christian morality is no more than a\nsystem of restraints which aim at preventing a man gratifying his\nappetite in certain directions. It forbids him certain enjoyments here,\nand promises him as a reward for his abstention a greater benefit\nhereafter. And on that assumption he argues, quite naturally, that if\nthere be no after life then there seems no reason why man should undergo\nthe \"restraints\" which moral rules impose. On this scheme man is a born\ncriminal and God an almighty policeman. That is the sum of orthodox\nChristian morality. To assume that this conception of conduct can have a\nreally elevating effect on life is to misunderstand the nature of the\nwhole of the ethical and social problem.\n\nWhat has been said may go some distance towards suggesting an answer to\nthe question so often asked as to the reason for the moral failure of\nChristianity. For that it has been a moral failure no one can doubt.\nNay, it is an assertion made very generally by Christians themselves.\nRight from New Testament times the complaint that the conduct of\nbelievers has fallen far short of what it should have been is constantly\nmet with. And there is not a single direction in which Christians can\nclaim a moral superiority over other and non-Christian peoples. They are\nneither kinder, more tolerant, more sober, more chaste, nor more\ntruthful than are non-Christian people. Nor is it quite without\nsignificance that those nations that pride themselves most upon their\nChristianity are what they are. Their state reflects the ethical spirit\nI have been trying to describe. For when we wipe out the disguising\nphrases which we use to deceive ourselves--and it is almost impossible\nto continually deceive others unless we do manage to deceive\nourselves--when we put on one side the \"rationalizing\" phrases about\nImperial races, carrying civilization to the dark places of the earth,\nbearing the white man's burden, peopling the waste places of the earth,\netc., we may well ask what for centuries have the Christian nations of\nthe world been but so many gangs of freebooters engaged in world-wide\npiracy? All over the world they have gone, fighting, stealing, killing,\nlying, annexing, in a steadily rising crescendo. To be possessed of\nnatural wealth, without the means of resisting aggression, has for four\ncenturies been to invite the depredations of some one or more of the\nChristian powers. It is the Christian powers that have militarized the\nworld in the name of the Prince of Peace, and made piracy a national\noccupation in the name of civilization. Everywhere they have done these\nthings under the shelter of their religion and with the sanction of\ntheir creed. Christianity has offered no effective check to the\ncupidity of man, its chief work has been to find an outlet for it in a\ndisguised form. To borrow a term from the psycho-analysts, the task of\nChristianity has been to \"rationalize\" certain ugly impulses, and so\nprovide the opportunity for their continuous expression. The world of\nto-day is beginning to recognize the intellectual weakness of\nChristianity; what it has next to learn is that its moral bankruptcy is\nno less assured.\n\nOne of the great obstacles in the way of this is the sentimentalism of\nmany who have given up all intellectual adherence to the Christian\ncreed. The power of the Christian Church has been so great, it has for\nso long had control of the machinery of public education and\ninformation, that many find it almost impossible to conclude that the\nethical spirit of Christianity is as alien to real progress as are its\ncosmical teachings. The very hugeness of this century-old imposture\nblinds many to its inherent defects. And yet the continuous and\nworld-wide moral failure of Christianity can only be accounted for on\nthe ground that it had a fatal moral defect from the start. I have\nsuggested above what is the nature of that defect. It has never regarded\nmorality as a natural social growth, but only as something imposed upon\nman from without. It has had no other reason for its existence than the\nfear of punishment and the hope of reward. Christian morality is the\nmorality of the stock exchange _plus_ the intellectual outlook of the\nsavage. And with that in control of national destinies our surprise\nshould be, not that things are as they are, but rather that with so\ngreat a handicap the world has contrived to reach its present moderate\ndegree of development.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nRELIGION AND PERSECUTION.\n\n\nIntolerance is one of the most general of what we may call the mental\nvices. It is so general that few people seem to look upon it as a fault,\nand not a few are prepared to defend it as a virtue. When it assumes an\nextreme form, and its consequences are unpleasantly obvious, it may meet\nwith condemnation, but usually its nature is disguised under a show of\nearnestness and sincere conviction. And, indeed, no one need feel called\nupon to dispute the sincerity and the earnestness of the bigot. As we\nhave already pointed out, that may easily be seen and admitted. All that\none need remark is that sincerity is no guarantee of accuracy, and\nearnestness naturally goes with a conviction strongly held, whether the\nconviction be grounded on fact or fancy. The essential question is not\nwhether a man holds an opinion strongly, but whether he has taken\nsufficient trouble to say that he has a right to have that opinion. Has\nhe taken the trouble to acquaint himself with the facts upon which the\nexpressed opinion is professedly based? Has he made a due allowance for\npossible error, and for the possibility of others seeing the matter from\nanother and a different point of view? If these questions were frankly\nand truthfully answered, it would be found that what we have to face in\nthe world is not so much opinion as prejudice.\n\nSome advance in human affairs is indicated when it is found necessary to\napologise for persecution, and a still greater one when men and women\nfeel ashamed of it. It is some of these apologies at which we have now\nto glance, and also to determine, if possible, the probable causes of\nthe change in opinion that has occurred in relation to the subject of\npersecution.\n\nA favourite argument with the modern religionist is that the element of\npersecution, which it is admitted, has hitherto been found in\nassociation with religion, is not due to religion as such, but results\nfrom its connection with the secular power. Often, it is argued, the\nState for its own purposes has seen fit to ally itself with the Church,\nand when that has taken place the representatives of the favoured Church\nhave not been strong enough to withstand the temptation to use physical\nforce in the maintenance of their position. Hence the generalization\nthat a State Church is always a persecuting Church, with the corollary\nthat a Church, as such, has nothing to do with so secular a thing as\npersecution.\n\nThe generalization has all the attractiveness which appeals to those who\nare not in the habit of looking beneath the surface, and in particular\nto those whose minds are still in thraldom to religious beliefs. It is\nquite true that State Churches have always persecuted, and it is equally\ntrue that persecution on a general scale could not have been carried on\nwithout the assistance of the State. On the other hand, it is just as\ntrue that all Churches have persecuted within the limits of their\nopportunity. There is no exception to this rule in any age or country.\nOn a wider survey it is also clear that all forms of religious belief\ncarry with them a tendency to persecution more or less marked. A close\nexamination of the facts will show that it is the tendency to toleration\nthat is developed by the secular power, and the opposite tendency\nmanifested by religion.\n\nIt is also argued that intolerance is not a special quality of religion;\nit is rather a fault of human nature. There is more truth in this than\nin the previous plea, but it slurs over the indictment rather than meets\nit. At any rate, it is the same human nature that meets us in religion\nthat fronts us in other matters, and there is no mistaking the fact that\nintolerance is far more pronounced in relation to religion than to any\nother subject. In secular matters--politics, science, literature, or\nart--opinions may differ, feelings run high, and a degree of intolerance\nbe exhibited, but the right to differ remains unquestioned. Moreover,\nthe settlement of opinion by discussion is recognized. In religion it is\nthe very right of difference that is challenged, it is the right of\ndiscussion that is denied. And it is in connection with religion alone\nthat intolerance is raised to the level of a virtue. Refusal to discuss\nthe validity of a religious opinion will be taken as the sign of a\nhighly developed spiritual nature, and a tolerance of diverging opinions\nas an indication of unbelief. If a political leader refused to stand\nupon the same platform with political opponents, on non-political\nquestions, nearly everyone would say that such conduct was intolerable.\nBut how many religious people are there who would see anything wrong in\nthe Archbishop of Canterbury refusing to stand upon the same platform as\na well-known Atheist?\n\nWe are here approaching the very heart of the subject, and in what\nfollows I hope to make clear the truth of the following propositions:\n(1) That the great culture ground of intolerance is religion; (2) That\nthe natural tendency of secular affairs is to breed tolerance; (3) That\nthe alliance of religion with the State has fostered persecution by the\nState, the restraining influences coming from the secular half of the\npartnership; (4) That the decline of persecution is due to causes that\nare quite unconnected with religious beliefs.\n\nThe first three points can really be taken together. So far as can be\nseen there is no disinclination among primitive peoples to discuss the\npros and cons of matters that are unconnected with religious beliefs. So\nsoon as we get people at a culture stage where the course of events is\nseen to be decided by human action, there goes on a tolerance of\nconflicting opinions that is in striking contrast with what occurs with\nsuch matters as are believed to directly involve the action of deity.\nOne could not expect things to be otherwise. In the carrying on of\nwarfare, as with many other tribal activities, so many of the\ncircumstances are of a determinable character, and are clearly to be\nsettled by an appeal to judgment and experience, that very early in\nsocial history they must have presented themselves as a legitimate field\nfor discussion, and to discussion, as Bagehot says, nothing is sacred.\nAnd as a matter of fact we have a survival of this to-day. However\nintolerant the character, so long as we are dealing with secular matters\nit is admitted that differences of opinion must be tolerated, and are,\nindeed, necessary if we are to arrive at the wisest conclusion. The most\nautocratic of monarchs will call upon his advisers and take their\ndissension from his own views as a matter of course. But when we get to\nthe field of religion, it is no longer a question of the legitimacy of\ndifference, but of its wrongness. For a religious man to admit a\ndiscussion as to whether his religious belief is founded on fact or not\nis to imply a doubt, and no thoroughly religious man ever encourages\nthat. What we have is prayers to be saved from doubt, and deliberate\nefforts to keep away from such conditions and circumstances as may\nsuggest the possibility of wrong. The ideal religious character is the\none who never doubts.\n\nIt may also be noted, in passing, that in connection with religion there\nis nothing to check intolerance at any stage. In relation to secular\nmatters an opinion is avowedly based upon verifiable facts and has no\nvalue apart from those facts. The facts are common property, open to\nall, and may be examined by all. In religion facts of a common and\nverifiable kind are almost wanting. The facts of the religious life are\nmainly of an esoteric character--visions, intuitions, etc. And while on\nthe secular side discussion is justified because of the agreement which\nresults from it, on the religious side the value of discussion is\ndiscounted because it never does lead to agreement. The more people\ndiscuss religion the more pronounced the disagreement. That is one\nreason why the world over the only method by which people have been\nbrought to a state of agreement in religious doctrines is by excluding\nall who disagreed. It is harmony in isolation.\n\nNow if we turn to religion we can see that from the very beginning the\nwhole tendency here was to stifle difference of opinion, and so\nestablish intolerance as a religious duty. The Biblical story of Jonah\nis a case that well illustrates the point. God was not angry with the\nrest of the ship's inhabitants, it was Jonah only who had given offence.\nBut to punish Jonah a storm was sent and the whole crew was in danger of\nshipwreck. In their own defence the sailors were driven to throw Jonah\noverboard. Jonah's disobedience was not, therefore, his concern alone.\nAll with him were involved; God was ready to punish the whole for the\noffence of one.\n\nNow if for the ship we take a primitive tribe, and for Jonah a primitive\nheretic, or one who for some reason or other has omitted a service to\nthe gods, we have an exact picture of what actually takes place. In\nprimitive societies rights are not so much individual as they are\nsocial. Every member of the tribe is responsible to the members of other\ntribes for any injury that may have been done. And as with the members\nof another tribe, so with the relation of the tribe to the gods. If an\nindividual offends them the whole of the tribe may suffer. There is a\nsplendid impartiality about the whole arrangement, although it lacks all\nthat we moderns understand by Justice. But the point here is that it\nmakes the heretic not merely a mistaken person, but a dangerous\ncharacter. His heresy involves treason to the tribe, and in its own\ndefence it is felt that the heretic must be suppressed. How this feeling\nlingers in relation to religion is well seen in the fact that there are\nstill with us large numbers of very pious people who are ready to see in\na bad harvest, a war, or an epidemic, a judgment of God on the whole of\nthe people for the sins of a few. It is this element that has always\ngiven to religious persecutions the air of a solemn duty. To suppress\nthe heretic is something that is done in the interests of the whole of\nthe people. Persecution becomes both a religious and a social duty.\n\nThe pedigree of religious persecution is thus clear. It is inherent in\nreligious belief, and to whatever extent human nature is prone to\nintolerance, the tendency has been fostered and raised to the status of\na virtue by religious teaching and practice. Religion has served to\nconfuse man's sense of right here as elsewhere.\n\nWe have thus two currents at work. On the one hand, there is the\ninfluence of the secular side of life, which makes normally for a\ngreater tolerance of opinion, on the other side there is religion which\ncan only tolerate a difference of opinion to the extent that religious\ndoctrines assume a position of comparative unimportance. Instead of it\nbeing the case that the Church has been encouraged to persecute by the\nState, the truth is the other way about. I know all that may be said as\nto the persecutions that have been set on foot by vested interests and\nby governments, but putting on one side the consideration that this begs\nthe question of how far it has been the consequence of the early\ninfluence of religion, there are obvious limits beyond which a secular\npersecution cannot go. A government cannot destroy its subjects, or if\nit does the government itself disappears. And the most thorough scheme\nof exploitation must leave its victims enough on which to live. There\nare numerous considerations which weigh with a secular government and\nwhich have little weight with a Church.\n\nIt may safely be said, for example, that no government in the world, in\nthe absence of religious considerations would have committed the\nsuicidal act which drove the Moors and the Jews from Spain.[24] As a\nmatter of fact, the landed aristocracy of Spain resisted suggestions for\nexpulsions for nearly a century because of the financial ruin they saw\nwould follow. It was the driving power of religious belief that finally\nbrought about the expulsion. Religion alone could preach that it was\nbetter for the monarch to reign over a wilderness than over a nation of\nJews and unbelievers. The same thing was repeated a century later in the\ncase of the expulsion of the Huguenots from France. Here again the crown\nresisted the suggestions of the Church, and for the same reason. And it\nis significant that when governments have desired to persecute in their\nown interests they have nearly always found it advantageous to do so\nunder the guise of religion. So far, and in these instances, it may be\ntrue that the State has used religion for its own purpose of\npersecution, but this does not touch the important fact that, given the\nsanction of religion, intolerance and persecution assume the status of\nvirtues. And to the credit of the State it must be pointed out that it\nhas over and over again had to exert a restraining influence in the\nquarrels of sects. It will be questioned by few that if the regulative\ninfluence of the State had not been exerted the quarrels of the sects\nwould have made a settled and orderly life next to impossible.\n\n[24] For this, as well as for the general consequences of persecution on\nracial welfare, see my pamphlet _Creed and Character_.\n\nSo far as Christianity is concerned it would puzzle the most zealous of\nits defenders to indicate a single direction in which it did anything to\nencourage the slightest modification of the spirit of intolerance.\nMohammedans can at least point to a time when, while their religion was\ndominant, a considerable amount of religious freedom was allowed to\nthose living under its control. In the palmy days of the Mohammedan rule\nin Spain both Jews and Christians were allowed to practise their\nreligion with only trifling inconveniences, certainly without being\nexposed to the fiendish punishments that characterized Christianity all\nover the world. Moreover, it must never be overlooked that in Europe all\nlaws against heresy are of Christian origin. In the old Roman Empire\nliberty of worship was universal. So long as the State religion was\ntreated with a moderate amount of respect one might worship whatever god\none pleased, and the number was sufficient to provide for the most\nvaried tastes. When Christians were proceeded against it was under laws\nthat did not aim primarily to shackle liberty of worship or of opinion.\nThe procedure was in every case formal, the trial public, time was given\nfor the preparation of the defence, and many of the judges showed their\ndislike to the prosecutions.[25] But with the Christians, instead of\npersecution being spasmodic it was persistent. It was not taken up by\nthe authorities with reluctance, but with eagerness, and it was counted\nas the most sacred of duties. Nor was it directed against a sectarian\nmovement that threatened the welfare of the State. The worst periods of\nChristian persecution were those when the State had the least to fear\nfrom internal dissension. The persecuted were not those who were guilty\nof neglect of social duty. On the contrary they were serving the State\nby the encouragement of literature, science, philosophy, and commerce.\nOne of the Pagan Emperors, the great Trajan, had advised the magistrates\nnot to search for Christians, and to treat anonymous accusations with\ncontempt. Christians carried the search for heresy into a man's own\nhousehold. It used the child to obtain evidence against its own parents,\nthe wife to secure evidence against the husband; it tortured to provide\ndictated confessions, and placed boxes at church doors to receive\nanonymous accusations. It established an index of forbidden books, an\ninstitution absolutely unknown to the pagan world. The Roman trial was\nopen, the accused could hear the charge and cite witnesses for the\ndefence. The Christian trial was in secret; special forms were used and\nno witnesses for the defence were permitted. Persecution was raised to a\nfine art. Under Christian auspices it assumed the most damnable form\nknown in the history of the world. \"There are no wild beasts so\nferocious as Christians\" was the amazed comment of the Pagans on the\nbehaviour of Christians towards each other, and the subsequent history\nof Christianity showed that the Pagans were but amateurs in the art of\npunishing for a difference of opinion.\n\n[25] I am taking the story of the persecutions of the early Christians\nfor granted, although the whole question is surrounded with the greatest\nsuspicion. As a matter of fact the accounts are grossly exaggerated, and\nsome of the alleged persecutions never occurred. The story of the\npersecutions is so foreign to the temper of the Roman government as to\nthrow doubt on the whole account. The story of there being ten\npersecutions is clearly false, the number being avowedly based upon the\nlegend of the ten plagues of Egypt.\n\nUp to a comparatively recent time there existed a practically unanimous\nopinion among Christians as to the desirability of forcibly suppressing\nheretical opinions. Whatever the fortunes of Christianity, and whatever\nthe differences of opinion that gradually developed among Christians\nthere was complete unanimity on this point. Whatever changes the\nProtestant Reformation effected it left this matter untouched. In his\n_History of Rationalism_ Lecky has brought forward a mass of evidence in\nsupport of this, and I must refer to that work readers who are not\nalready acquainted with the details. Luther, in the very act of pleading\nfor toleration, excepted \"such as deny the common principles of the\nChristian religion, and advised that the Jews should be confined as\nmadmen, their synagogues burned and their books destroyed.\" The\nintolerance of Calvin has became a byword; his very apology for the\nburning of Servetus, entitled _A Defence of the Orthodox Faith_, bore\nupon its title page the significant sentence \"In which it is proved that\nheretics may justly be coerced with the sword.\" His follower, Knox, was\nonly carrying out the teaching of the master in declaring that\n\"provoking the people to idolatry ought not to be exempt from the\npenalty of death,\" and that \"magistrates and people are bound to do so\n(inflict the death penalty) unless they will provoke the wrath of God\nagainst themselves.\" In every Protestant country laws against heresy\nwere enacted. In Switzerland, Geneva, Sweden, England, Germany,\nScotland, nowhere could one differ from the established faith without\nrunning the risk of torture and death. Even in America, with the\nexception of Maryland,[26] the same state of things prevailed. In some\nStates Catholic priests were subject to imprisonment for life, Quaker\nwomen were whipped through the streets at the cart's tail, old men of\nthe same denomination were pressed to death between stones. At a later\ndate (about 1770) laws against heresy were general. \"Anyone,\" says\nFiske,--\n\n     who should dare to speculate too freely about the nature of Christ,\n     or the philosophy of the plan of salvation, or to express a doubt\n     as to the plenary inspiration of every word between the two covers\n     of the Bible, was subject to fine and imprisonment. The tithing man\n     still arrested the Sabbath-breakers, and shut them up in the town\n     cage in the market-place; he stopped all unnecessary riding or\n     driving on Sunday, and haled people off to the meeting-house\n     whether they would or no.[27]\n\n[26] The case of Maryland is peculiar. But the reason for the toleration\nthere seems to have been due to the desire to give Catholics a measure\nof freedom they could not have elsewhere in Protestant countries.\n\n[27] For a good sketch of the Puritan Sunday in New England see _The\nSabbath in Puritan New England_, by Alice Morse Earle. For an account of\nreligious intolerance see the account of the Blue Laws of Connecticut as\ncontained in Hart's _American History told by Contemporaries_, Vol. I.\n\nAnd we have to remember that the intolerance shown in America was\nmanifested by men who had left their own country on the ostensible\nground of freedom of conscience. As a matter of fact, in Christian\nsociety genuine freedom of conscience was practically unknown. What was\nmeant by the expression was the right to express one's own religious\nopinions, with the privilege of oppressing all with whom one happened to\ndisagree. The majority of Christians would have as indignantly\nrepudiated the assertion that they desired to tolerate non-Christian or\nanti-Christian opinions as they would the charge of themselves holding\nAtheistic ones.\n\nHow deeply ingrained was the principle that the established religion was\njustified in suppressing all others may be seen from a reading of such\nworks as Locke's _Letters on Toleration_, and Milton's _Areopagitica_,\nwhich stand in the forefront of the world's writings in favour of\nliberty of thought and speech. Yet Locke was of opinion that \"Those are\nnot at all to be tolerated who deny the being of a God. Promises,\ncovenants, and oaths, which are the bonds of human society, can have no\nhold upon an Atheist. The taking away of God, though but even in\nthought, dissolves all.\" And Milton, while holding that it was more\nprudent and wholesome that many be tolerated rather than all compelled,\nyet hastened to add \"I mean not tolerated popery and open superstition,\nwhich as it extirpates all religious and civil supremacies so should\nitself be extirpated.\" In short, intolerance had become so established a\npart of a society saturated in religion that not even the most liberal\ncould conceive a state of being in which all opinions should be placed\nupon an equal footing.\n\nYet a change was all the time taking place in men's opinions on this\nmatter, a change which has in recent years culminated in the affirmation\nof the principle that the coercion of opinion is of all things the least\ndesirable and the least beneficial to society at large. And as in so\nmany other cases, it was not the gradual maturing of that principle that\nattracted attention so much as its statement in something like a\ncomplete and logical form. The tracing of the conditions which have led\nto this tremendous revolution in public opinion will complete our survey\nof the subject.\n\nIt has already been pointed out that in primitive societies a very\nimportant fact is that the relation of the individual to the community\nis of a different nature from that which exists in a later stage of\nculture. The whole is responsible for the part in a very literal sense,\nand especially so in regard to religious beliefs. Individual rights and\nresponsibilities have but a precarious existence at best. The individual\nexists far more for the benefit of the tribe than the tribe can be said\nto exist for the benefit of the individual. The sense of corporate\nresponsibility is strong, and even in secular affairs we see this\nconstantly manifested. When a member of one tribe inflicts an injury\nupon a member of another tribe, retaliation on any one of the group to\nwhich the offending person belongs will suffice. We see the remnants of\nthis primitive view of life in the feuds of schoolboys, and it is also\nmanifested in the relations of nations, which move upon a lower ethical\nlevel than do individuals. Most wars are ostensibly waged because in\nsome obscure way the nation is held responsible for the offences of one\nor more individuals. And an instance of the same feeling is seen in the\nnow obsolete practice of punishing the members of a man's family when\nthe parents happen to have committed certain offences.\n\nIn religion, as we have already pointed out, the sense of corporate\nresponsibility completely governs primitive man's sense of his relation\nto the tribal gods. In the development of the tribal chief into the\ntribal god the ghost is credited with much the same powers as the man,\nwith the added terror of having more subtle and terrible ways of\ninflicting punishment. The man who offends the ghost or the god is a\nstanding danger to the whole of the tribe. The whole of the tribe\nbecomes responsible for the offence committed, and the tribe in self\nprotection must not alone take measures to punish the offender, but must\nalso guard itself against even the possibility of the offence being\nperpetrated. The consequence is that there is not a religion in which\none can fail to trace the presence of this primitive conception of\npersonal and social responsibility, and consequently, where we cannot\nfind persecution, more or less severe, and also more or less organized,\nin the interest of what is believed to be social welfare. In the case of\nthe failure of the Spanish Armada to effect the conquest of England, the\nSpanish monarch was convinced that its non-success was partly due to his\nnot having weeded out the heretics from his own dominion before\ntroubling about the heretics abroad. And right down to our own day there\nhas not been a national calamity the cause of which has not been found\nby numbers of religious people to lie in the fact that some members of\nthe suffering nation have offended God. The heretic becomes, as we have\nalready said, a social danger of the gravest description. Society must\nbe guarded against his presence just as we learn to-day to protect\nourselves against the presence of a death-dealing germ. The suppression\nof heresy thus becomes a social duty, because it protects society from\nthe anger of the gods. The destruction of the heretic is substantially\nan act of social sanitation. Given the primitive conception of religion,\naffiliated to the existing conception of corporate responsibility, and\npersecution becomes one of the most important of social duties.\n\nThis, I believe, is not alone the root of persecution, but it serves to\nexplain as nothing else can its persistence in social life and the fact\nof its having became almost a general mental characteristic. To realize\nthis one need only bear in mind the overpowering part played by\nreligious conceptions in early communities. There is nothing done that\nis not more or less under the assumed control of supernatural agencies.\nFear is the dominant emotion in relation to the gods, and experience\ndaily proves that there is nothing that can make men so brutal and so\ncallous to the sufferings of others as can religious belief. And while\nthere has all along been a growing liberation of the mind from the\ncontrol of religion, the process has been so slow that this particular\nproduct of religious rule has had time to root itself very deeply in\nhuman nature. And it is in accordance with all that we know of the order\nof development that the special qualities engendered by a particular set\nof conditions should persist long after the conditions themselves have\npassed away.\n\nThe conditions that co-operate in the final breaking down of the\nconviction of the morality of persecution are many and various.\nPrimarily, there is the change from the social state in which the\nconception of corporate responsibility is dominant to one in which there\nis a more or less clearly marked line between what concerns the\nindividual alone and what concerns society as a whole. This is\nillustrated in the growth from what Spencer called the military type of\nsociety to an industrial one. In the case of a militant type of society,\nto which the religious organization is so closely affiliated, a State is\nmore self contained, and the governing principle is, to use a\ngeneralization of Sir Henry Maine's, status rather than contract. With\nthe growth of commerce and industrialism there is developed a greater\namount of individual initiative, a growing consideration for personal\nresponsibility, and also the development of a sense of interdependence\nbetween societies. And the social developments that go on teach people,\neven though the lesson may be unconsciously learned, to value each\nother in terms of social utility rather than in terms of belief in\nexpressed dogmas. They are brought daily into contact with men of widely\ndiffering forms of opinion; they find themselves working in the same\nmovements, and participating in the same triumphs or sharing the same\ndefeats. Insensibly the standard of judgment alters; the strength of the\npurely social feelings overpowers the consciousness of theological\ndifferences, and thus serves to weaken the frame of mind from which\npersecution springs.\n\nThe growing complexity of life leads to the same end. Where the\nconditions of life are simple, and the experiences through which people\npass are often repeated, and where, moreover, the amount of positive\nknowledge current is small, conclusions are reached rapidly, and the\nfeeling of confidence in one's own opinions is not checked by seeing\nothers draw different conclusions from the same premises. Under such\nconditions an opinion once formed is not easily or quickly changed.\nExperience which makes for wider knowledge makes also for greater\ncaution in forming opinions and a greater readiness to tolerate\nconclusions of an opposite character at which others may have arrived.\n\nFinally, on the purely intellectual side one must reckon with the growth\nof new ideas, and of knowledge that is in itself quite inconsistent with\nthe established creed. If the primary reason for killing the heretic is\nthat he is a social danger, one who will draw down on the tribe the\nvengeance of the gods, the strength of that feeling against the heretic\nmust be weakened by every change that lessens men's belief in the power\nof their deity. And one must assume that every time a fresh piece of\ndefinite knowledge was acquired towards the splendid structure that now\nmeets us in the shape of modern science there was accomplished\nsomething that involved an ultimate weakening of the belief in the\nsupremacy of the gods. The effect is cumulative, and in time it is bound\nto make itself felt. Religious opinion after religious opinion finds\nitself attacked and its power weakened. Things that were thought to be\nsolely due to the action of the gods are found to occur without their\nbeing invoked, while invocation does not make the slightest difference\nto the production of given results. Scientific generalizations in\nastronomy, in physics, in biology, etc., follow one another, each\nhelping to enforce the lesson that it really does not matter what\nopinions a man may hold about the gods provided his opinions about the\nworld in which he is living and the forces with which he _must_ deal are\nsound and solidly based. In a world where opinion is in a healthy state\nof flux it is impossible for even religion to remain altogether\nunchanged. So we have first a change in the rigidity of religious\nconceptions, then a greater readiness to admit the possibility of error,\nand, finally, the impossibility of preventing the growth and expression\nof definitely non-religious and anti-religious opinions in a community\nwhere all sorts of opinions cannot but arise.\n\nWith the social consequences of religious persecution, and particularly\nof Christian persecution, I have dealt elsewhere, and there is no need\nto repeat the story here. I have been here concerned with making plain\nthe fact that persecution does not arise with a misunderstanding of\nreligion, or with a decline of what is vaguely called \"true religion,\"\nnor does it originate in the alliance of some Church with the secular\nState. It lies imbedded in the very nature of religion itself. With\npolytheism there is a certain measure of toleration to gods outside the\ntribe, because here the admitted existence of a number of gods is part\nof the order of things. But this tendency to toleration disappears when\nwe come to the monotheistic stage which inevitably treats the claim to\nexistence of other gods in the same spirit as an ardent royalist treats\nthe appearance of a pretender to the throne. To tolerate such is a crime\nagainst the legitimate ruler. And when we get the Christian doctrine of\neternal damnation and salvation tacked on to the religious idea we have\nall the material necessary to give the persecutor the feeling of moral\nobligation, and to make him feel that he is playing the part of a real\nsaviour to society.\n\nAt bottom that is one of the chief injuries that a religion such as\nChristianity inflicts on the race; it throws human feeling into some of\nthe most objectionable forms, and provides a religious and moral\njustification for their expression. The very desire to benefit one's\nfellows, normally and naturally healthy, thus becomes under Christian\ninfluences an instrument of oppression and racial degradation. The\nChristian persecutor does not see himself for what he is, he pictures\nhimself as a saviour of men's souls by suppressing the unbeliever who\nwould corrupt them. And if Christianity be true he is correct in\nthinking himself such. I have no hesitation in saying that if\nChristianity be true persecution becomes the most important of duties. A\ncommunity that is thoroughly Christian is bound to persecute, and as a\nmere matter of historic fact every wholly Christian community has\npersecuted. The community which says that a man may take any religion he\npleases, or go without one altogether if he so chooses, proclaims its\ndisbelief in the importance of religion. The measure of religious\nfreedom is also the measure of religious indifference.\n\nThere are some experiences through which a human being may pass the\neffects of which he never completely outgrows. Usually he may appear to\nhave put them quite out of his mind, but there are times when he is\nlifted a little out of the normal, and then the recollection of what he\nhas passed through comes back with terrifying force. And acute observers\nmay also be able to perceive that even in normal circumstances what he\nhas passed through manifests itself for the worse in his everyday\nbehaviour. So with religion and the life history of the race. For\nthousands of generations the race has been under the influence of a\nteaching that social welfare depended upon a right belief about the\ngods. The consequence of this has been that persecution became deeply\ningrained in human nature and in the social traditions which play so\nlarge a part in the character building of each new generation. We have\nas yet hardly got beyond the tradition that lack of religion robs a man\nof social rights and dispenses with the necessity for courteous and\nconsidered treatment. And there is, therefore, small cause for wonder\nthat the element of intolerance should still manifest itself in\nconnection with non-religious aspects of life. But the certain thing is\nthat throughout the whole of our social history it is religion that has\nbeen responsible for the maintenance of persecution as a social duty.\nSomething has been done in more recent times to weaken its force, the\ngrowth of science, the rationalizing of one institution after\nanother--in a word, the secularizing of life--is slowly creating more\ntolerant relations between people. But the poison is deep in the blood,\nand will not be eradicated in a generation. Religion is still here, and\nso long as it remains it will never cease--under the guise of an appeal\nto the higher sentiments of man--to make its most effective appeals to\npassions of which the best among us are most heartily ashamed.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\nWHAT IS TO FOLLOW RELIGION?\n\n\nBooks on the future of religion are numerous, and to one blessed with a\nsense of humour, full of entertainment. They are also not without\ninstruction of a psychological kind. Reliable information as to what the\nfuture will be like they certainly do not give, but they do unlock the\ninnermost desires of the writers thereof. They express what the writers\nof the prophecies would like the future to be. And they create the\nfuture state on earth exactly as devout believers have built up the\ncharacter of their heaven beyond the clouds. Every form of faith which\nthey disagree with is rejected as not possessing the element of\nvitality, with the result that there is only their own form left. And\nthat, they triumphantly proclaim, is the religion of the future.\n\nBut the future has an old-fashioned and disconcerting habit of\ndisappointing expectations. The factors that govern human nature are so\nmany and so complex, their transmutations and combinations are so\nnumerous, that it is as well to tread cautiously, and to a very\nconsiderable extent leave the future to take care of itself. At the\nutmost all that we can do with safety is to detect tendencies, and to\nhasten or retard their development as we think them good or bad. The\nfactors that make up a science of human nature are not to-day so\nwell-known and so well understood that we can depict the state of\nsociety a century hence with the same certainty that we can foretell the\nposition of the planet Venus in the year 2000.\n\nMy aim in this chapter is, therefore, not to describe precisely what\nwill be the state of society when religious belief has ceased to exist.\nIt is rather to offer a general reply to those gloomy individuals who\ndeclare that when the aims of the Freethinker are fully realized we\nshall find that in destroying religion we have destroyed pretty much all\nthat makes human life worth living. We have managed to empty the baby\nout with the bath.\n\nThe most general form of this fear is expressed in calling Freethought a\ncreed of negation, or a policy of destruction, and assuring the world\nthat mankind can never rest content with such things. That may be quite\ntrue, but we fail to see in what way it touches Freethought. A\nFreethought that is wholly destructive, that is a mere negation, is a\ncreation of the pulpit, and belongs to the same class of imaginative\nefforts as the pietistic outbursts of famous unbelievers on their\ndeath-beds. That such things could have obtained so wide a currency, and\nbe looked upon as quite natural occurrences, offers demonstrative\nevidence of the paralyzing power of Christian belief on the human mind.\n\nAs a matter of fact, neither reformers in general nor Freethinkers in\nparticular deserve the charge of being mere destructionists. They are\nboth far more interested in building up than they are in pulling down,\nand it is sheer lack of understanding that fixes the eyes of so many on\none aspect of the reformer's task and so steadily ignores the other one.\nOf course, the phenomenon is not an unusual one. In a revolution it is\nthe noise, the street fighting, the breaking of old rules and the\nshattering of established institutions that attract the most attention.\nThe deeper aims of the revolutionists, the hidden social forces of which\nthe revolution is the expression, the work of reconstruction that is\nattempted, escape notice. The old order shrieks its loudest at the\nthreat of dissolution, the new can hardly make its voice heard.\nCarlyle's division of the people into the shrieking thousands and the\ndumb millions is eternally true. And even the millions are impressed\nwith the importance of the thousands because of the noise they are able\nto make.\n\nActually the charge to which reformers in general are open is that of a\ntoo great zeal for reconstruction, a belittling of the difficulties that\nstand in the way of a radical change. They are apt to make too small an\nallowance for the occurrence of the unexpected and the incalculable,\nboth of which are likely to interfere with the fruition of the most\nlogical of schemes. And they are so obsessed with reconstruction that\ndestruction seems no more than an incident by the way. A little less\neagerness for reconstruction might easily result in a greater concern\nfor what is being pulled down. The two greatest \"destructive\" movements\nof modern times--the French revolution of 1789 and the Russian\nrevolution--both illustrate this point. In both movements the leading\nfigures were men who were obsessed with the idea of building a new\nworld. They saw this new world so clearly that the old one was almost\nignored. And this is equally true of the literature that precedes and is\nthe mouthpiece of such movements. The leading appeal is always to what\nis to be, what existed is only used as a means of enforcing the\ndesirability of the new order. It is, in short, the mania for\nreconstruction that is chiefly responsible for the destruction which so\nhorrifies those whose vision can never see anything but the world to\nwhich they have become accustomed.\n\nIn parenthesis it may be remarked that it is a tactical blunder to make\none's attack upon an existing institution or idea depend upon the\nattractiveness of the ideal state depicted. It enables critics to fix\nattention on the precise value of the proposed remedy instead of\ndiscussing whether the suggested reform is necessary. The attacker is\nthus placed in the position of the defender and the point at issue\nobscured. This is, that a certain institution or idea has outgrown its\nusefulness and its removal is necessary to healthy growth. And it may\nwell be that its removal is all that is required to enable the social\norganism to function naturally and healthily. The outworn institution is\noften the grit in the machine that prevents it running smoothly.\n\nThis by the way. The fact remains that some of our best teachers have\nshown themselves apt to stumble in the matter. Without belief in\nreligion they have too often assumed that its removal would leave a\nserious gap in life, and so would necessitate the creation of a number\nof substitutes to \"take the place of religion.\" Thus, no less profound a\nthinker than Herbert Spencer remarks in the preface to his _Data of\nEthics_:--\n\n     Few things can happen more disastrous than the death and decay of a\n     regulative system no longer fit, before another and a better\n     regulative system has grown up to replace it. Most of those who\n     reject the current creed appear to assume that the controlling\n     agency furnished by it may safely be thrown aside, and the vacancy\n     left unfilled by any other controlling agency.\n\nHad Spencer first of all set himself to answer the question, \"What is it\nthat the Freethinker sets himself to remove?\" or even the question,\n\"What is the actual control exerted by religion?\" one imagines that the\npassage above given would either never have been written or would have\nbeen differently worded. And when a man such as Spencer permits himself\nto put the matter in this form one need not be surprised at the ordinary\nbeliever assuming that he has put an unanswerable question to the\nFreethinker when he asks what it is that we propose to put in the place\nof religion, with the assumption that the question is on all fours with\nthe enquiry as to what substitutes we have for soap and coal if we\ndestroy all stocks of these articles.\n\nThe question assumes more than any scientific Freethinker would ever\ngrant. It takes for granted the statement that religion does at present\nperform some useful function in the State. And that is the very\nstatement that is challenged. Nor does the Freethinker deny that some\n\"controlling agency\" is desirable. What he does say is that in the\nmodern State, at least, religion exerts no control for good, that its\nactivities make for stagnation or retrogression, that its removal will\nmake for the healthier operation of other agencies, and that to these\nother and non-religious agencies belongs the credit which is at present\ngiven to religion.\n\nMoreover, Spencer should not have needed reminding that systems of\nthought while they have any vital relation to life will successfully\ndefy all attempts at eradication. The main cause of the decay of\nreligion is not the attack made upon it by the forces of reasoned\nunbelief. That attack is largely the conscious expression of a revolt\nagainst a system that has long lost all touch with reality, and so has\nceased to derive support from current life and thought. From this point\nof view the reformer is what he is because he is alive to the drift of\nevents, susceptible to those social influences which affect all more or\nless, and his strength is derived from the thousand and one subtle\ninfluences that extend from generation to generation and express\nthemselves in what we are pleased to call the story of civilization.\n\nBut the quotation given does represent a fairly common point of view,\nand it is put in a form that is most favourable to religious\npretensions. For it assumes that religion does really in our modern\nlives perform a function so useful that it would be the height of folly\nto remove it before we had something equally useful to take its place.\nBut something in the place of religion is a thing that no scientific\nFreethinker desires. It is not a new religion, or another religion that\nthe world needs, but the removal of religion from the control of life,\nand a restatement of those social qualities that have hitherto been\nexpressed in a religious form so that their real nature will be apparent\nto all. Then we shall at last begin to make progress with small chance\nof getting a serious set-back.\n\nThis does not, of course, deny that there are many things associated\nwith religion for the absence of which society would have cause for\nregret. It is part of the Freethought case that this is so. And it may\nalso be admitted that large numbers of people honestly believe that\ntheir religious beliefs serve as motives to the expression of their\nbetter qualities. That, again, is part of the delusion we are fighting.\nWe cannot agree that religion, as such, contains anything that is\nessentially useful to the race. It has maintained its power chiefly\nbecause of its association with serviceable social qualities, and it is\npart of the work of Freethought to distinguish between what properly\nbelongs to religion and what has become associated with it during its\nlong history. At present the confusion exists and the fact need cause no\nsurprise. At best the instincts of man are deep-laid, the motives to\nconduct are mostly of an obscure kind, and it would be cause for\nsurprise if, seeing how closely religion is associated with every phase\nof primitive life, and how persistent are primitive modes of thinking,\nthere were not this confusion between the actual part played by religion\nin life and the part assigned it by tradition.\n\nAt any rate, it is idle to argue as though human conduct was governed by\na single idea--that of religion. At the most religious beliefs represent\nno more than a part of the vast mass of influences that determine human\neffort. And when we see how largely religious beliefs are dependent upon\nconstant stimulation and protection for their existence, it seems\nextremely unlikely that they can hold a very vital relation to life. The\nimpotency of religion in matters of conduct is, too, decisively shown in\nthe fact that it is quite impossible to arrange men and women in a scale\nof values that shall correspond with the kind or the fervency of their\nreligious beliefs. A religious person may be a useful member of society\nor he may be a quite useless one. A profound religious conviction may be\naccompanied by the loftiest of ideals or by the meanest of aims. The\nunbeliever may be, and often is, a better man than the believer. No\nbusiness man would ever think of making a man's religion the condition\nof taking one into his service, or if he did the general opinion would\nbe that it indicated bigotry and not shrewdness. We find it quite\nimpossible to determine the nature of religious belief by watching the\nway people behave. In no stage of social life does religion provide us\nwith anything in the nature of a differentiating factor.\n\nIt was argued by the late Sir James Fitzjames Stephen, himself a\nFreethinker, that as men have for a long time been in the habit of\nassociating moral feelings with the belief in God, a severance of the\ntwo may entail moral disaster. It is, of course, hard to say what may\nnot happen in certain cases, but it is quite certain that such a\nconsequence could not follow on any general scale. One has only to bring\na statement of this kind down from the region of mere theory to that of\ndefinite fact to see how idle the fear is. If, instead of asserting in a\nvague way that the moral life is in some way bound up with religious\nbeliefs we ask what moral action or moral disposition is so connected,\nwe realize the absurdity of the statement. Professor Leuba well says:--\n\n     Our alleged essential dependence upon transcendental beliefs is\n     belied by the most common experiences of daily life. Who does not\n     feel the absurdity of the opinion that the lavish care for a sick\n     child by a mother is given because of a belief in God and\n     immortality? Are love of father and mother on the part of children,\n     affection and serviceableness between brothers and sisters,\n     straightforwardness and truthfulness between business men\n     essentially dependent upon these beliefs? What sort of person would\n     be the father who would announce divine punishment or reward in\n     order to obtain the love and respect of his children? And if there\n     are business men preserved from unrighteousness by the fear of\n     future punishment, they are far more numerous who are deterred by\n     the threat of human law. Most of them would take their chances with\n     heaven a hundred times before they would once with society, or\n     perchance with the imperative voice of humanity heard in the\n     conscience (_The Belief in God and Immortality_, p. 323).\n\nAnd in whatever degree the fear may be justified in special cases, it\napplies to any attempt whatever that may be made to disturb existing\nconventions. Luther complained that some of his own converts were\nbehaving worse as Protestants than they behaved as Catholics, and even\nin the New Testament we have the same unfavourable comparison made of\nmany of Christ's followers when compared with the Pagans around them. A\ntransference of allegiance may easily result in certain ill-balanced\nminds kicking over the traces, but in the long run, and with the mass,\nthe deeper social needs are paramount. There was the same fear expressed\nconcerning man's political and social duties when the relations of\nChurch and State were first challenged. Yet the connection between the\ntwo has been quite severed in some countries, and very much weakened in\nmany more, without society in the least suffering from the change. On\nthe contrary, one may say that man's duties towards the State have been\nmore intelligently perceived and more efficiently discharged in\nproportion as those religious considerations that once ruled have been\nset on one side.\n\nThe reply of the Freethinker to the question of \"What is to follow\nreligion?\" may, therefore, easily be seen. In effect it is, \"Nothing at\nall.\" In any study of social evolution the properly equipped student\ncommences his task with the full conviction that whatever the future may\nbe like its germs are already with us. If nature does not \"abhor a\nvacuum\" it has at least an intense dislike to absolute beginnings. The\nfuture will be an elaboration of the present as the present is an\nelaboration of the past. For good or evil that principle remains\nunimpeachable.\n\nThe essential question is not, What is to follow religion? but rather\nwhat will the disappearance of religion affect that is of real value to\nthe world. The moment the question is raised in this unambiguous manner\nthe answer suggests itself. For assume that by some strange and\nunexpected happening there set in a raging epidemic of common sense.\nAssume that as a consequence of this the world was to awake with its\nmind completely cleared of all belief in religion. What would be the\neffect of the transformation? It is quite clear that it would not affect\nany of the fundamental processes of life. The tragi-comedy of life would\nstill be performed, it would run through the same number of acts, and it\nwould end in the same happy or unhappy manner. Human beings would still\nget born, they would grow up, they would fall in love, they would marry,\nthey would beget their kind, and they would in turn pass away to make\nroom for another generation. Birth and death, with all their\naccompanying feelings, would remain. Human society would continue, all\nthe glories of art, the greatness of science, all the marvels and\nwonders of the universe would be there whether we believed in a God or\nnot. The only difference would be that we should no longer associate\nthese things with the existence of a God. And in that respect we should\nbe following the same course of development that has been followed in\nmany other departments of life. We do not nowadays associate the\nexistence of spirits with a good or a bad harvest, the anger of God with\nan epidemic, or the good-will of deity with a spell of fine weather. Yet\nin each case there was once the same assumed association between these\nthings, and the same fears of what would happen if that association was\ndiscarded. We are only carrying the process a step further; all that is\nrequired is a little courage to take the step. In short, there is not a\nsingle useful or worthy quality, intellectual or moral, that can\npossibly suffer from the disappearance of religion.\n\nOn this point we may again quote from Professor Leuba:--\n\n     The heroism of religious martyrs is often flaunted as marvellous\n     instances of the unique sustaining strength derived from the belief\n     in a personal God and the anticipation of heaven. And yet for\n     every martyr of this sort there has been one or more heroes who has\n     risked his life for a noble cause, without the comfort which\n     transcendental beliefs may bring. The very present offers almost\n     countless instances of martyrs to the cause of humanity, who are\n     strangers to the idea of God and immortality. How many men and\n     women in the past decade gladly offered and not infrequently lost\n     their lives in the cause of freedom, or justice, or science? In the\n     monstrous war we are now witnessing, is there a less heroic defence\n     of home and nation, and less conscious self-renunciation among the\n     non-believers than among the professed Christians? Have modern\n     nations shown a more intense or a purer patriotism than ancient\n     Greece and Rome, where men did not pretend to derive inspiration\n     for their deeds of devotion in the thoughts of their gods.... The\n     fruitful deeds of heroism are at bottom inspired not by the thought\n     of God or a future life, but by innate tendencies or promptings\n     that have reference to humanity. Self sacrifice, generosity, is\n     rooted in nothing less superficial and accidental than social\n     instincts older than the human race, for they are already present\n     in a rudimentary form in the higher animals.\n\nThese are quite familiar statements to all Freethinkers, but to a great\nmany Christians they may come with all the force of a new revelation.\n\nIn the earlier pages of this work I have given what I conceive solid\nreasons for believing that every one of the social and individual\nvirtues is born of human intercourse and can never be seriously deranged\nfor any length of time, so long as human society endures. The scale of\nvalues may well undergo a change with the decay of religion, but that is\nsomething which is taking place all the time, provided society is not in\na state of absolute stagnation. There is not any change that takes\nplace in society that does not affect our view of the relative value of\nparticular qualities. The value we place upon personal loyalty to a king\nis not what it once was. At one stage a man is ready to place the whole\nof his fortune at the disposal of a monarch merely because he happens to\nbe his \"anointed\" king. To-day, the man who had no better reason for\ndoing that would be looked upon as an idiot. Unquestioning obedience to\nestablished authority, which once played so high a part in the education\nof children, is now ranked very low by all who understand what genuine\neducation means. From generation to generation we go on revising our\nestimate of the value of particular qualities, and the world is the\nbetter for the revision. And that is what we may assume will occur with\nthe decay of religious belief. We shall place a higher value upon\ncertain qualities than we do at present and a lower value upon others.\nBut there will be no discarding the old qualities and creation of new\nones. Human nature will be the same then as now, as it has been for\nthousands of years. The nature of human qualities will be more directly\nconceived and more intelligently applied, and that will be an\nundesirable development only for those who live by exploiting the\nignorance and the folly of mankind.\n\nThus, if one may venture upon a prophecy with regard to the\nnon-religious society of the future it may be said with confidence that\nwhat are known as the ascetic qualities are not likely to increase in\nvalue. The cant of Christianity has always placed an excessive value\nupon what is called self-sacrifice. But there is no value in\nself-sacrifice, as such. At best it is only of value in exceptional\ncircumstances, as an end it is worse than useless, and it may easily\ndegenerate from a virtue to a vice. It assumed high rank with Christian\nteachers for various reasons. First, it was an expression of that\nasceticism which lies at the root of Christianity, second, because\nChristianity pictured this world as no more than a preparation for\nanother, and taught that the deprivations and sufferings of the present\nlife would be placed to a credit account in the next one, and third,\nbecause it helped men and women to tolerate injustice in this world and\nso helped the political game that governments and the Christian Church\nhave together played. A really enlightened society would rank\ncomparatively low the virtue of asceticism. Its principle would be not\nself-sacrifice but self-development.\n\nWhat must result from this is an enlargement of our conception of\njustice and also of social reform. Both of these things occupy a very\nlow place in the Christian scale of virtues. Social reform it has never\nbothered seriously about, and in its earlier years simply ignored. A\npeople who were looking for the end of the world, whose teaching was\nthat it was for man's spiritual good to suffer, and who looked for all\nhelp to supernatural intervention, could never have had seriously in\ntheir minds what we understand by social reform. And so with the\nconception of Justice. There is much of this in pre-Christian\nliterature, and its entrance into the life and thought of modern Europe\ncan be traced directly back to Greek and Roman sources. But the work of\nthe Christian, while it may have been to heal wounds, was not to prevent\ntheir infliction. It was to minister to poverty, not to remove those\nconditions that made poverty inevitable.\n\nA Spanish writer has put this point so well that I cannot do better than\nquote him. He says:--\n\n     The notion of justice is as entirely foreign to the spirit of\n     Christianity as is that of intellectual honesty. It lies wholly\n     outside the field of its ethical vision. Christianity--I am not\n     referring to interpretations disclaimed as corruptions or\n     applications which may be set down to frailty and error, but to the\n     most idealized conceptions of its substance and the most exalted\n     manifestations of its spirit--Christianity has offered consolation\n     and comfort to men who suffered under injustice, but of that\n     injustice itself it has remained absolutely incognizant. It has\n     called upon the weary and heavy laden, upon the suffering and the\n     afflicted, it has proclaimed to them the law of love, the duty of\n     mercy and forgiveness, the Fatherhood of God; but in that torment\n     of religious and ethical emotion which has impressed men as the\n     summit of the sublime, and been held to transcend all other ethical\n     ideals, common justice, common honesty have no place. The ideal\n     Christian is seen in the saint who is seen descending like an angel\n     from heaven amid the welter of human misery, among the victims of\n     ruthless oppression and injustice ... but the cause of that misery\n     lies wholly outside the range of his consciousness; no glimmer of\n     right or wrong enters into his view of it. It is the established\n     order of things, the divinely appointed government of the world,\n     the trial laid upon sinners by divine ordinance. St. Vincent de\n     Paul visits the hell of the French galleys; he proclaims the\n     message of love and calls sinners to repentance; but to the\n     iniquity which creates and maintains that hell he remains\n     absolutely indifferent. He is appointed Grand Almoner to his Most\n     Christian Majesty. The world might groan in misery under the\n     despotism of oppressors, men's lives and men's minds might be\n     enslaved, crushed and blighted; the spirit of Christianity would go\n     forth and _comfort_ them, but it would never occur to it to redress\n     a single one of those wrongs. It has remained unconscious of them.\n     To those wrongs, to men's right to be delivered from them, it was\n     by nature completely blind. In respect to justice, to right and\n     wrong, the spirit of Christianity is not so much immoral as amoral.\n     The notion was as alien to it as the notion of truth. Included in\n     its code was, it might be controversially alleged, an old formula,\n     \"the golden rule,\" a commonplace of most literature, which was\n     popular in the East from China to Asia Minor; but that isolated\n     precept was never interpreted in the sense of justice. It meant\n     forgiveness, forbearing, kindness, but never mere justice, common\n     equity; those virtues were far too unemotional in aspect to appeal\n     to the religious enthusiast. The renunciation of life and all its\n     vanities, the casting overboard of all sordid cares for its\n     maintenance, the suppression of desire, prodigal almsgiving, the\n     consecration of a life, the value of which had disappeared in his\n     eyes, to charity and love, non-resistance, passive obedience, the\n     turning of the other cheek to an enemy, the whole riot of these\n     hyperbolic ethical emotions could fire the Christian consciousness,\n     while it remained utterly unmoved by every form of wrong, iniquity\n     and injustice (Dr. Falta de Gracia. Cited by Dr. R. Briffault, _The\n     Making of Humanity_, pp. 334-5.)\n\nThat, we may assume, will be one of the most striking consequences of\nthe displacement of Christianity in the social economy. There will be\nless time wasted on what is called philanthropic work--which is often\nthe most harmful of all social labours--and more attention to the\nremoval of those conditions that have made the display of philanthropy\nnecessary. There will not be less feeling for the distressed or the\nunfortunate, but it will be emotion under the guidance of the intellect,\nand the dominant feeling will be that of indignation against the\nconditions that make human suffering and degradation inevitable, rather\nthan a mere gratification of purely egoistic feeling which leaves the\nsource of the evil untouched.\n\nThat will mean a rise in the scale of values of what one may call the\nintellectual virtues--the duty of truthseeking and truth speaking.\nHitherto the type of character held up for admiration by Christianity\nhas been that of the blind believer who allowed nothing to stand in the\nway of his belief, who required no proofs of its truth and allowed no\ndisproofs to enter his mind. A society in which religion does not hold a\ncontrolling place is not likely to place a very high value upon such\nprecepts as \"Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed,\"\nor \"Though he slay me yet will I trust him.\" But a very high value will\nbe placed upon the duty of investigation and the right of criticism. And\none cannot easily over-estimate the consequences of a generation or two\nbrought up in an atmosphere where such teachings obtain. It would mean a\nreceptiveness to new ideas, a readiness to overhaul old institutions, a\ntoleration of criticism such as would rapidly transform the whole mental\natmosphere and with it enormously accentuate the capacity for, and the\nrapidity of, social progress.\n\nThere is also to be borne in mind the effect of the liberation of the\nenormous amount of energy at present expended in the service of\nreligion. Stupid religious controversialists often assume that it is\npart of the Freethinker's case that religion enlists in its service bad\nmen, and much time is spent in proving that religious people are mostly\nworthy ones. That could hardly be otherwise in a society where the\noverwhelming majority of men and women profess a religion of some sort.\nBut that is, indeed, not the Freethinker's case at all, and if the\nbadness of some religious people is cited it is only in answer to the\nfoolish argument that religionists are better than others. The real\ncomplaint against religion is of a different kind altogether. Just as\nthe worst thing that one can say about a clergyman intellectually is,\nnot that he does not believe in what he preaches, but that he does, so\nthe most serious indictment of current religion is not that it enlists\nin its service bad characters, but that it dissipates the energy of\ngood men and women in a perfectly useless manner. The dissipation of\nChristian belief means the liberating of a store of energy for service\nthat is at present being expended on ends that are without the least\nsocial value. A world without religion would thus be a world in which\nthe sole ends of endeavour would be those of human betterment or human\nenlightenment, and probably in the end the two are one. For there is no\nreal betterment without enlightenment, even though there may come for a\ntime enlightenment without betterment. It would leave the world with all\nthe means of intellectual and aesthetic and social enjoyment that exist\nnow, and one may reasonably hope that it will lead to their cultivation\nand diffusion over the whole of society.\n\n\n  _Printed and Published by_\n  THE PIONEER PRESS\n  (G. W. FOOTE & CO., LTD.),\n  _61 Farringdon Street, London, E.C. 4_.\n\n\n\n\nANNOUNCEMENTS.\n\n\nTHE SECULAR SOCIETY, Limited.\n\n_Registered Office_: 62 Farringdon Street, London, E.C. 4.\n\n_Secretary_: Miss E. M. 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Price 1s. 6d. per 100, postage\n     3d.\n\nTHE PIONEER PRESS, 61 Farringdon Street, E.C. 4.\n\n\n  READ\n\n  THE FREETHINKER\n\n  EDITED BY\n  CHAPMAN COHEN.\n\n  Brilliant Articles by Capable Writers on\n  Religion, Literature, and Life.\n\n  One of the Liveliest and Most Outspoken\n  Journals in Great Britain.\n\n  _PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY._\n\n  PRICE THREEPENCE.\n\n  Of all Newsagents, or direct from the Publishing Office,\n  61 FARRINGDON STREET, LONDON, E.C. 4.\n\n  _SPECIMEN COPY POST FREE._\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Note:\n\n\nMinor punctuation errors and letters printed upside down have been\ncorrected without note. Inconsistent hyphenation (e.g. common-place vs.\ncommonplace) has been retained. Variant and unusual spellings used\nconsistently (e.g. indispensible) have also been kept.\n\nThe following corrections and changes were made to the text:\n\np. 65: knowlelge to knowledge (accumulation of knowledge)\n\np. 98: upder to under (under the old Greek)\n\np. 102: extra \"to\" removed (owe their belief to the philosophical)\n\np. 114: sterotyped to stereotyped (stereotyped phraseology)\n\np. 132: developes to develops (organ or an organism develops)\n\np. 157: it to is (After this lame conclusion it is difficult)\n\np. 186: percieves to perceives (provided a man perceives)\n\np. 190: Zeigler to Ziegler (Professor Ziegler)\n\np. 215: mayority to majority (majority of Christians)\n\np. 216: precariout to precarious (precarious existence at best)\n\nAdvertisements: entrace to entrance (an entrance fee of ten shillings)","title":"A Grammar of Freethought","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":74837}