{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_39551/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_39551","id":"gutenberg_39551","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/39551","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Ethics"],"text":"E-text prepared by Adrian Mastronardi and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made\navailable by Internet Archive (http://www.archive.org)\n\n\n\nNote: Images of the original pages are available through\n      Internet Archive. See\n      http://archive.org/details/ethicsdew00deweuoft\n\n\nTranscriber's note:\n\n      Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).\n\n      Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=).\n\n      To indicate macron above a vowel, the vowel has been\n      enclosed within square brackets with equal sign just\n      before it. For example, [=o] is used to represent letter\n      \"o\" with macron above it.\n\n\n\n\n\nAmerican Science Series\n\nETHICS\n\nby\n\nJOHN DEWEY\nProfessor of Philosophy in Columbia University\n\nand\n\nJAMES H. TUFTS\nProfessor of Philosophy in the University of Chicago\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nNew York\nHenry Holt and Company\nLondon: George Bell and Sons\n1909\n\nCopyright, 1908,\nby\nHenry Holt and Company\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nThe significance of this text in Ethics lies in its effort to awaken\na vital conviction of the genuine reality of moral problems and the\nvalue of reflective thought in dealing with them. To this purpose\nare subordinated the presentation in Part I. of historic material;\nthe discussion in Part II. of the different types of theoretical\ninterpretation, and the consideration, in Part III., of some typical\nsocial and economic problems which characterize the present.\n\nExperience shows that the student of morals has difficulty in getting\nthe field objectively and definitely before him so that its problems\nstrike him as real problems. Conduct is so intimate that it is not easy\nto analyze. It is so important that to a large extent the perspective\nfor regarding it has been unconsciously fixed by early training. The\nhistorical method of approach has proved in the classroom experience of\nthe authors an effective method of meeting these difficulties. To follow\nthe moral life through typical epochs of its development enables\nstudents to realize what is involved in their own habitual standpoints;\nit also presents a concrete body of subject-matter which serves as\nmaterial of analysis and discussion.\n\nThe classic conceptions of moral theory are of remarkable importance in\nilluminating the obscure places of the moral life and in giving the\nstudent clues which will enable him to explore it for himself. But there\nis always danger of either dogmatism or a sense of unreality when\nstudents are introduced abruptly to the theoretical ideas. Instead of\nserving as tools for understanding the moral facts, the ideas are\nlikely to become substitutes for the facts. When they are proffered\nready-made, their theoretical acuteness and cleverness may be admired,\nbut their practical soundness and applicability are suspected. The\nhistorical introduction permits the student to be present, as it were,\nat the social situations in which the intellectual instruments were\nforged. He appreciates their relevancy to the conditions which provoked\nthem, and he is encouraged to try them on simple problems before\nattempting the complex problems of the present. By assisting in their\ngradual development he gains confidence in the ideas and in his power to\nuse them.\n\nIn the second part, devoted more specifically to the analysis and\ncriticism of the leading conceptions of moral theory, the aim\naccordingly has not been to instill the notions of a school nor to\ninculcate a ready-made system, but to show the development of theories\nout of the problems and experience of every-day conduct, and to suggest\nhow these theories may be fruitfully applied in practical exigencies.\nAspects of the moral life have been so thoroughly examined that it is\npossible to present certain principles in the confidence that they will\nmeet general acceptance. Rationalism and hedonism, for example, have\ncontributed toward a scientific statement of the elements of conduct,\neven though they have failed as self-inclosed and final systems. After\nthe discussions of Kant and Mill, Sidgwick and Green, Martineau and\nSpencer, it is possible to affirm that there is a place in the moral\nlife for reason and a place for happiness,--a place for duty and a place\nfor valuation. Theories are treated not as incompatible rival systems\nwhich must be accepted or rejected _en bloc_, but as more or less\nadequate methods of surveying the problems of conduct. This mode of\napproach facilitates the scientific estimation and determination of the\npart played by various factors in the complexity of moral life. The\nstudent is put in a position to judge the problems of conduct for\nhimself. This emancipation and enlightenment of individual judgment is\nthe chief aim of the theoretical portion.\n\nIn a considerable part of the field, particularly in the political and\neconomic portions of Part III., no definitive treatment is as yet\npossible. Nevertheless, it is highly desirable to introduce the student\nto the examination of these unsettled questions. When the whole\ncivilized world is giving its energies to the meaning and value of\njustice and democracy, it is intolerably academic that those interested\nin ethics should have to be content with conceptions already worked out,\nwhich therefore relate to what is least doubtful in conduct rather than\nto questions now urgent. Moreover, the advantages of considering theory\nand practice in direct relation to each other are mutual. On the one\nhand, as against the _a priori_ claims of both individualism and\nsocialism, the need of the hour seems to us to be the application of\nmethods of more deliberate analysis and experiment. The extreme\nconservative may deprecate any scrutiny of the present order; the ardent\nradical may be impatient of the critical and seemingly tardy processes\nof the investigator; but those who have considered well the conquest\nwhich man is making of the world of nature cannot forbear the conviction\nthat the cruder method of trial and error and the time-honored method of\nprejudice and partisan controversy need not longer completely dominate\nthe regulation of the life of society. They hope for a larger\napplication of the scientific method to the problems of human welfare\nand progress. Conversely, a science which takes part in the actual work\nof promoting moral order and moral progress must receive a valuable\nreflex influence of stimulus and of test. To consider morality in the\nmaking as well as to dwell upon values already established should make\nthe science more vital. And whatever the effect upon the subject-matter,\nthe student can hardly appreciate the full force of his materials and\nmethods as long as they are kept aloof from the questions which are\noccupying the minds of his contemporaries.\n\nTeachers who are limited in time will doubtless prefer to make their own\nselections of material, but the following suggestions present one\npossible line of choice. In Part I., of the three chapters dealing with\nthe Hebrew, Greek, and modern developments, any one may be taken as\nfurnishing an illustration of the method; and certain portions of\nChapter IX. may be found more detailed in analysis than is necessary for\nthe beginner. In Part II., Chapters XI.-XII. may be omitted without\nlosing the thread of the argument. In Part III., any one of the specific\ntopics--viz., the political state, the economic order, the family--may\nbe considered apart from the others. Some teachers may prefer to take\nParts in their entirety. In this case, any two may be chosen.\n\nAs to the respective shares of the work for which the authors are\nseverally responsible, while each has contributed suggestions and\ncriticisms to the work of the other in sufficient degree to make the\nbook throughout a joint work, Part I. has been written by Mr. Tufts,\nPart II. by Mr. Dewey, and in Part III., Chapters XX. and XXI. are by\nMr. Dewey, Chapters XXII.-XXVI. by Mr. Tufts.\n\nIt need scarcely be said that no attempt has been made in the\nbibliographies to be exhaustive. When the dates of publication of the\nwork cited are given, the plan has been in general to give, in the case\nof current literature, the date of the latest edition, and in the case\nof some classical treatises the date of original publication.\n\nIn conclusion, the authors desire to express their indebtedness to their\ncolleagues and friends Dr. Wright, Mr. Talbert, and Mr. Eastman, who\nhave aided in the reading of the proof and with other suggestions.\n\n\n\n\nTABLE OF CONTENTS\n\n\n  CHAPTER                                                         PAGE\n\n  I. INTRODUCTION                                                    1\n\n    Sec. 1. _Definition and Method_:--Ethical and moral, specific\n    problem, 1; importance of genetic study, 3. Sec. 2. _Criterion\n    of the moral_:--The moral in cross section, the \"what\" and\n    the \"how,\" 5; the moral as growth, 8. Sec. 3. _Divisions of the\n    treatment_, 13.\n\n\nPART I\n\nTHE BEGINNINGS AND GROWTH OF MORALITY\n\n  II. EARLY GROUP LIFE                                              17\n\n    Sec. 1. _Typical facts of group life_:--Primitive unity and\n    solidarity, 17. Sec. 2. _Kinship and household groups_:--The\n    kinship group, 21; the family or household group, 23.\n    Sec. 3. _Kinship and family groups as economic and industrial\n    units_:--The land and the group, 24; movable goods, 25.\n    Sec. 4. _Kinship and family groups as political bodies_:--Their\n    control over the individual, 26; rights and responsibility, 27.\n    Sec. 5. _The kinship or household as a religious unit_:--Totem\n    groups, 30; ancestral religion, 31. Sec. 6. _Age and sex groups_,\n    32. Sec. 7. _Moral significance of the group_, 34.\n\n  III. THE RATIONALIZING AND SOCIALIZING AGENCIES IN EARLY SOCIETY  37\n\n    Sec. 1. _Three levels of conduct_:--Conduct as instinctive and\n    governed by primal needs, regulated by society's standards,\n    and by personal standards, 37. Sec. 2. _Rationalizing agencies_:\n    Work, 40; arts and crafts, 41; war, 42. Sec. 3. _Socializing\n    agencies_:--Cooperation, 42; art, 45. Sec. 4. _Family life\n    as idealizing and socializing agency_, 47. Sec. 5. _Moral\n    interpretation of this first level_, 49.\n\n  IV. GROUP MORALITY--CUSTOMS OR MORES                              51\n\n    Sec. 1. _Meaning, authority, and origin of customs_, 51.\n    Sec. 2. _Means of enforcing custom_:--Public approval, taboos,\n    rituals, force, 54. Sec. 3. _Conditions which render group\n    control conscious_:--Educational customs, 57; law and\n    justice, 59; danger or crisis, 64. Sec. 4. _Values and defects\n    of customary morality_:--Standards, motives, content,\n    organization of character, 68.\n\n  V. FROM CUSTOM TO CONSCIENCE; FROM GROUP MORALITY TO PERSONAL\n  MORALITY                                                          73\n\n    Sec. 1. _Contrast and collision_, 73. Sec. 2. _Sociological\n    agencies in the transition_:--Economic forces, 76; science\n    and the arts, 78; military forces, 80; religious forces,\n    81. Sec. 3. _Psychological agencies_:--Sex, 81; private\n    property, 83; struggles for mastery and liberty, 84; honor\n    and esteem, 85. Sec. 4. _Positive reconstruction_, 89.\n\n  VI. THE HEBREW MORAL DEVELOPMENT                                  91\n\n    Sec. 1. _General character and determining principles_:--The\n    Hebrew and the Greek, 91; Political and economic factors, 92.\n    Sec. 2. _Religious agencies_:--Covenant, 94; personal law-giver,\n    95; cultus, 97; prophets, 99; the kingdom, 100. Sec. 3. _Moral\n    conceptions attained_:--Righteousness and sin, 102;\n    responsibility, 104; purity of motive, 105; the ideal of\n    \"life,\" 107; the social ideal, 108.\n\n  VII. THE MORAL DEVELOPMENT OF THE GREEKS                         111\n\n    Sec. 1. _The fundamental notes_:--Convention versus nature, 111;\n    measure, 112; good and just, 113. Sec. 2. _Intellectual forces of\n    individualism_:--The scientific spirit, 114. Sec. 3. _Commercial\n    and political individualism_:--Class interests, 119; why obey\n    laws? 122. Sec. 4. _Individualism and ethical theory_:--The\n    question formulated, 124; individualistic theories, 126. Sec. 5.\n    _The deeper view of nature and the good, of the individual and\n    the social order_:--Aristotle on the natural, 127; Plato's\n    ideal state, 129; passion or reason, 131; eudaemonism and the\n    mean, 134; man and the cosmos, 135. Sec. 6. _The conception of\n    the ideal_:--Contrast with the actual, 136; ethical\n    significance, 138. Sec. 7. _The conception of the self, of\n    character and responsibility_:--The poets, 138; Plato and the\n    Stoics, 140.\n\n  VIII. THE MODERN PERIOD                                          142\n\n    Sec. 1. _The mediaeval ideals_:--Groups and class ideals, 143;\n    the church ideal, 145. Sec. 2. _Main lines of modern\n    development_, 147. Sec. 3. _The old and new in the beginnings\n    of individualism_, 149. Sec. 4. _Individualism in the progress\n    of liberty and democracy_:--Rights, 151. Sec. 5. _Individualism\n    as affected by the development of industry, commerce, and\n    art_:--Increasing power and interests, 153; distribution of\n    goods, 157; industrial revolution raises new problems,\n    159. Sec. 6. _The individual and the development of\n    intelligence_:--The Renaissance, 163; the Enlightenment, 165;\n    the present significance of scientific method, 167.\n\n  IX. A GENERAL COMPARISON OF CUSTOMARY AND REFLECTIVE MORALITY    171\n\n    Sec. 1. _Elements of agreement and continuity_:--Regime\n    of custom, 172; persistence of group morality, 173;\n    origin of ethical terms, 175. Sec. 2. _Elements of\n    contrast_:--Differentiation of the moral, 177; observing\n    _versus_ reflecting, 178; the higher law, 181; deepening of\n    meaning, 182. Sec. 3. _Opposition between individual and social\n    aims and standards_:--Withdrawal from the social order, 184;\n    individual emancipation, 186. Sec. 4. _Effects upon the\n    individual character_:--Increased possibilities of evil as well\n    as of good, 187. Sec. 5. _Moral differentiation and the social\n    order_:--Effects on the family, 193; on industry and government,\n    194; on religion, 195; general relation of religion to morality,\n    197.\n\n\nPART II\n\nTHEORY OF THE MORAL LIFE\n\n  X. THE MORAL SITUATION                                           201\n\n    Distinguishing marks of the moral situation, 201; Traits of\n    voluntary activity, 202; The good and bad in non-voluntary\n    behavior, 203; Indifferent voluntary conduct, 205; The moral\n    is introduced when ends have conflicting values, 207;\n    Selection then depends upon, and influences, the nature\n    of the self, 209.\n\n  XI. PROBLEMS OF MORAL THEORY                                     212\n\n    Theory grows from practical problems, 212; Three typical\n    problems of reflective practice, 213; Corresponding problems\n    of theory, 214; Their historical sequence, 215; Growth of\n    individualism, 220; The two types of individualism, 221.\n\n  XII. TYPES OF MORAL THEORY                                       224\n\n    Sec. 1. _Typical divisions of theories_:--Teleological and\n    jural, 224; individual and institutional, 225; empirical and\n    intuitional, 226. Sec. 2. _Division of voluntary activity into\n    Inner and Outer_:--The \"how\" and the \"what,\" 227; attitude\n    and consequences, 228; different types of each theory, 229;\n    bearing of each theory upon problems of knowledge and\n    of control, 231. Sec. 3. _General interpretation of these\n    theories_:--Ordinary view of disposition and of consequences,\n    232; advantages claimed for emphasis upon consequences, 234;\n    for emphasis upon disposition or attitude, 236; necessity of\n    reconciliation of these theories, 237.\n\n  XIII. CONDUCT AND CHARACTER                                      240\n\n    Problem of their relation, 240. Sec. 1. _The good will of\n    Kant_:--Emphasis upon motive, 241; motive with or without\n    consequences, 242; necessity of effort, 243; overt action\n    required to prove motive, 245. Sec. 2. _The \"Intention\" of the\n    Utilitarians_:--Emphasis upon consequences, 246; distinction\n    of intention from motive, 247; they are really identical,\n    248; motive as blind and as intelligent, 249; practical\n    importance of insistence upon consequences, 251; foresight\n    of consequences depends upon motive, 252. Sec. 3. _Conduct and\n    character_:--The nature of disposition, 254; partial and\n    complete intention, 256; complexity of motives, 257. Sec. 4.\n    _Morality of acts and of agents_:--Subjective and objective\n    morality, 259; the doer and his deed, 260; summary, 261.\n\n  XIV. HAPPINESS AND CONDUCT: THE GOOD AND DESIRE                  263\n\n    Residence and nature of goodness, 263; happiness as the\n    good, 264; love of happiness as the evil, 265; ambiguity in\n    conception of happiness, 266. Sec. 1. _The Object of\n    Desire_:--Is it pleasure? 269; desire presupposes instinctive\n    appetites, 270; and objects of thought, 271; happiness and\n    desire, 272; need for standard, 274. Sec. 2. _The Conception\n    of Happiness as a Standard_:--Utilitarian method, 275;\n    Difficulty of measuring pleasure, 276; character determines\n    the value of a pleasure, 277; Mill's introduction of\n    quality of pleasure, 279. Sec. 3. _The constitution of\n    happiness_:--Pleasures depend upon objects, 281; they are\n    qualitative, 282; they vary with disposition, 283; happiness\n    as the moral good, 284.\n\n  XV. HAPPINESS AND SOCIAL ENDS                                    286\n\n    Utilitarianism aims at social welfare, 286; value as a theory\n    of social reform, 287; its aim conflicts with its hedonistic\n    theory of motive, 289; Bentham's method of reconciling\n    personal and general happiness, 291; Mill's method, 293;\n    sympathy and the social self, 298; the distinctively moral\n    interest, 300; equation of virtue and happiness, 301; moral\n    democracy, 303.\n\n  XVI. THE PLACE OF REASON IN THE MORAL LIFE: MORAL KNOWLEDGE      306\n\n    Sec. 1. _Problem of reason and desire_:--Nature of a reasonable\n    act, 306; theories about moral knowledge, 307. Sec. 2. _Kant's\n    theory of practical reason_:--Traits of morality, 309; reason\n    as _a priori_ and formal, 310; true meaning of generalization,\n    313; the general and the social, 314. Sec. 3. _Moral sense\n    intuitionalism_:--Function of reason, 317; habit and sense,\n    319; invalid intuitions, 321; deliberation and intuition, 322;\n    the good man's judgment, 324. Sec. 4. _The place of general\n    rules_:--Their value, 325; casuistry, 326; and its dangers,\n    327; secondary ends of utilitarianism, 329; empirical rules\n    and customs, 330; distinction of rules and principles, 333;\n    sympathy and reasonableness, 334.\n\n  XVII. THE PLACE OF DUTY IN THE MORAL LIFE: SUBJECTION TO\n  AUTHORITY                                                        337\n\n    Conflict of the rational with the attractive end, 337. Sec. 1.\n    _The subjection of desire to law_, 339; cause of conflict of\n    desire and thought, 342; demand for transformation of desire,\n    343; social character of duties, 345; the social self is the\n    \"universal\" self, 346. Sec. 2. _Kantian theory_:--Accord with\n    duty versus from duty, 346; the two-fold self of Kant, 347;\n    criticism of Kant, 348; emphasis falls practically on\n    political authority, 351; \"Duty for duty's sake,\" 351.\n    Sec. 3. _The Utilitarian theory of duty_:--The hedonistic\n    problem, 353; Moral sanctions, 354; they are too external,\n    355; Bain's account, 356; Spencer's account, 358; such\n    views set up a fictitious non-social self, 361. Sec. 3. _Final\n    statement_:--Growth requires disagreeable readjustments, 362.\n\n  XVIII. THE PLACE OF THE SELF IN THE MORAL LIFE                   364\n\n    Problems regarding the self, 364. Sec. 1. _The doctrine of\n    self-denial_:--Explanation of its origin, 365; four objections\n    to doctrine, 366. Sec. 2. _Self-assertion_:--Ethical dualism,\n    369; \"naturalistic\" ethics, 369; false biological basis, 371;\n    misinterprets nature of efficiency, 373. Sec. 3. _Self-love\n    and benevolence; or egoism and altruism_:--The \"crux\"\n    of ethical speculation, 375; are all motives selfish? 376;\n    ambiguity of term selfish, 377; are results selfish? 379;\n    self-preservation, 380; rational regard for self, 382;\n    regard for others, 384; the existence of \"other-regarding\"\n    impulses, 385; altruism may be immoral, 387; social\n    justice necessary to moral altruism, 389. Sec. 4. _The\n    good as self-realization_:--Self-realization an ambiguous\n    idea, 391; true and false consideration of the self, 393;\n    equation of personal and general happiness, 395.\n\n  XIX. THE VIRTUES                                                 399\n\n    Introductory--virtue defined, 399; natural ability and\n    virtue, 400; evolution of virtues, 401; responsibility\n    for moral judgment, 402; futility of cataloguing virtues,\n    402; their cardinal aspects, 403. Sec. 1. _Temperance_:--Greek,\n    Roman, and Christian conceptions, 405; negative and positive\n    aspects, 407; pleasure and excitement, 408. Sec. 2. _Courage\n    or persistent vigor_:--Dislike of the disagreeable, 410;\n    \"dimensions\" of courage, 411; optimism and pessimism, 412.\n    Sec. 3. _Justice_:--Three meanings of, 414; justice and\n    love, 415; justice and punishment, 416. Sec. 4. _Wisdom or\n    conscientiousness_:--Importance of intelligent interest, 418;\n    Greek and modern ideas of moral wisdom, 419; ideals and\n    thoughtfulness, 420; ideals and progress, 422.\n\n\nPART III\n\nTHE WORLD OF ACTION\n\n  XX. SOCIAL ORGANIZATION AND THE INDIVIDUAL                       427\n\n    Object of discussion, 427. Sec. 1. _Growth of individuality\n    through social organizations_:--Emancipation from custom,\n    428; double movement towards individuality and complex\n    associations, 429; morality and legality, 432; two-fold\n    contribution of social environment to individual morality,\n    433; moral value of the state, 434. Sec. 2. _Responsibility\n    and freedom_:--Liability, 436; freedom as exemption and as\n    power, 437; legal and moral freedom, 438. Sec. 3. _Rights and\n    obligations_:--Their definition, 439; they are correlative,\n    440; physical rights, 442; limitations put upon them by war\n    and punishment, 443; by poverty, 444; mental rights, 445;\n    limitations to freedom of thought and expression, 446;\n    education, 448.\n\n  XXI. CIVIL SOCIETY AND THE POLITICAL STATE                       451\n\n    Sec. 1. _Civil rights and obligations_:--Their definition, 451;\n    their classes, 452; significance of established remedies for\n    wrongs, 454. Sec. 2. _Development of civil rights_:--Contrast\n    with savage age justice, 456; social harm versus metaphysical\n    evil, 457; recognition of accident and intent, 459; of\n    character and circumstances, 460; of mental incapacity, 462;\n    significance of negligence and carelessness, 464; conflict of\n    substantial and technical justice, 465; relations of the legal\n    and moral, 467; reform of criminal procedure necessary, 468;\n    also of punitive methods, 470; and of civil administration,\n    471. Sec. 3. _Political rights and obligations_:--Significance\n    of the state, 473; distrust of government, 474; indifference to\n    politics, 476; political corruption, 477; reform of partisan\n    machinery, 478; of governmental machinery, 479; constructive\n    social legislation, 480; a federated humanity, 481. Sec. 4. _The\n    moral criterion of political activity_:--Its statement, 482;\n    the individualistic formula, 483; the collectivistic formula,\n    484.\n\n  XXII. THE ETHICS OF THE ECONOMIC LIFE                            486\n\n    Sec. 1. _General analysis_:--The economic in relation to\n    happiness, 487; relation to character, 488; social aspects,\n    491. Sec. 2. _The problem set by the new economic\n    order_:--Collective and impersonal organizations, 495;\n    readjustments required, 496. Sec. 3. _The agencies for carrying\n    on commerce and industry_:--Early agencies, 497; the business\n    enterprise, 498; the labor union, 499; reversion to group\n    morality, 500; members and management, 500; employer and\n    employed, 501; relations to the public, 502; to the law, 503.\n    Sec. 4. _The methods of production, exchange, and\n    valuation_:--The machine, 507; basis of valuation, 508. Sec. 5.\n    _The factors which aid ethical reconstruction_:--Principles\n    more easily seen, 511.\n\n  XXIII. SOME PRINCIPLES IN THE ECONOMIC ORDER                     514\n\n    1. Wealth subordinate to personality, 514. 2. Wealth and\n    activity, 514. 3. Wealth and public service, 515. 4. A change\n    demanded from individual to collective morality, 517. 5.\n    Personal responsibility, 519. 6. Publicity and legal control,\n    520. 7. Democracy and distribution, 521.\n\n  XXIV. UNSETTLED PROBLEMS IN THE ECONOMIC ORDER                   523\n\n    Sec. 1. _Individualism and socialism_:--General statement, 523;\n    equal opportunity, 526. Sec. 2. _Individualism or free contract\n    analyzed; its values_:--Efficiency, 527; initiative, 527;\n    regulation of production, 528. Sec. 3. _Criticisms upon\n    individualism_:--It does not secure real freedom, 528; nor\n    justice, 530; competition tends to destroy itself, 531;\n    position of the aristocratic individualists, 532.\n\n  XXV. UNSETTLED PROBLEMS IN THE ECONOMIC ORDER (CONTINUED)        536\n\n    Sec. 4. _The theory of public agency and control_, 536. Sec.\n    5. _Society as agency of production_:--Charges against private\n    management, 537; corruption, 538; conditions of labor, 540;\n    collective agency not necessarily social, 544. Sec. 6.\n    _Theories of just distribution_:--Individualistic theory, 546;\n    equal division, 547; a working programme, 548. Sec. 7.\n    _Ownership and use of property_:--Defects in the present\n    system, 551. Sec. 8. _Present tendencies_:--Individualistic\n    character of the Constitution, 554; increased recognition of\n    public welfare, 555; social justice through economic, social,\n    and scientific progress, 557. Sec. 9. _Three special\n    problems_:--The open versus the closed shop, 559; the\n    capitalization of corporations, 561; the unearned increment,\n    564. Appendix: Prof. Seager's programme of social legislation,\n    566.\n\n  XXVI. THE FAMILY                                                 571\n\n    Sec. 1. _Historical antecedents of the modern family_:--Maternal\n    type, 572; paternal type, 572; influence of the church, 576.\n    Sec. 2. _The psychological basis of the family_:--Emotional and\n    instinctive basis, 578; common will, 580; parenthood, 581;\n    social and religious factors, 582; the children, 582. Sec. 3.\n    _General elements of strain in family relations_:--Differences\n    between the sexes in temperament and occupation, 584; in\n    attitude toward the family, 587; differences between parents\n    and children, 589. Sec. 4. _Special conditions which give rise to\n    present problems_:--The economic factors, 590; cultural and\n    political factors, 593. Sec. 5. _Unsettled problems_:--Economic\n    problems, 594; the dilemma between the domestic life and\n    occupations outside the home, 595; the family as consumer,\n    598. Sec. 6. _Unsettled problems_:--Political problems, authority\n    within the family, 599; equality or inequality, 600; isolation\n    not the solution, 602; authority over the family, divorce,\n    603; general law of social health, 605; conclusion, 605.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nETHICS\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nSec. 1. DEFINITION AND METHOD\n\n=Provisional Definition.=--The place for an accurate definition of a\nsubject is at the end of an inquiry rather than at the beginning, but a\nbrief definition will serve to mark out the field. Ethics is the science\nthat deals with conduct, in so far as this is considered as right or\nwrong, good or bad. A single term for conduct so considered is \"moral\nconduct,\" or the \"moral life.\" Another way of stating the same thing is\nto say that Ethics aims to give a systematic account of our judgments\nabout conduct, in so far as these estimate it from the standpoint of\nright or wrong, good or bad.\n\n=Ethical and Moral.=--The terms \"ethics\" and \"ethical\" are derived from\na Greek word _ethos_ which originally meant customs, usages, especially\nthose belonging to some group as distinguished from another, and later\ncame to mean disposition, character. They are thus like the Latin word\n\"moral,\" from _mores_, or the German _sittlich_, from _Sitten_. As we\nshall see, it was in customs, \"ethos,\" \"mores,\" that the moral or\nethical began to appear. For customs were not merely habitual ways of\nacting; they were ways approved by the group or society. To act contrary\nto the customs of the group brought severe disapproval. This might not\nbe formulated in precisely our terms--right and wrong, good and\nbad,--but the attitude was the same in essence. The terms ethical and\nmoral as applied to the conduct of to-day imply of course a far more\ncomplex and advanced type of life than the old words \"ethos\" and\n\"mores,\" just as economics deals with a more complex problem than \"the\nmanagement of a household,\" but the terms have a distinct value if they\nsuggest the way in which the moral life had its beginning.\n\n=Two Aspects of Conduct.=--To give a scientific account of judgments\nabout conduct, means to find the principles which are the basis of these\njudgments. Conduct or the moral life has two obvious aspects. On the one\nhand it is a life of purpose. It implies thought and feeling, ideals and\nmotives, valuation and choice. These are processes to be studied by\npsychological methods. On the other hand, conduct has its outward side.\nIt has relations to nature, and especially to human society. Moral life\nis called out or stimulated by certain necessities of individual and\nsocial existence. As Protagoras put it, in mythical form, the gods gave\nmen a sense of justice and of reverence, in order to enable them to\nunite for mutual preservation.[1] And in turn the moral life aims to\nmodify or transform both natural and social environments, to build a\n\"kingdom of man\" which shall be also an ideal social order--a \"kingdom\nof God.\" These relations to nature and society are studied by the\nbiological and social sciences. Sociology, economics, politics, law, and\njurisprudence deal particularly with this aspect of conduct. Ethics must\nemploy their methods and results for this aspect of its problem, as it\nemploys psychology for the examination of conduct on its inner side.\n\n=The Specific Problem of Ethics.=--But ethics is not merely the sum of\nthese various sciences. It has a problem of its own which is created by\njust this twofold aspect of life and conduct. It has to relate these two\nsides. It has to study the inner process _as determined by the outer\nconditions or as changing these outer conditions_, and the outward\nbehavior or institution _as determined by the inner purpose, or as\naffecting the inner life_. To study choice and purpose is psychology; to\nstudy choice as affected by the rights of others and to judge it as\nright or wrong by this standard is ethics. Or again, to study a\ncorporation may be economics, or sociology, or law; to study its\nactivities as resulting from the purposes of persons or as affecting the\nwelfare of persons, and to judge its acts as good or bad from such a\npoint of view, is ethics.\n\n=Genetic Study.=--When we deal with any process of life it is found to\nbe a great aid for understanding the present conditions if we trace the\nhistory of the process and see how present conditions have come about.\nAnd in the case of morality there are four reasons in particular for\nexamining earlier stages. The first is that we may begin our study with\na simpler material. Moral life at present is extremely complex.\nProfessional, civic, domestic, philanthropic, ecclesiastical, and social\nobligations claim adjustment. Interests in wealth, in knowledge, in\npower, in friendship, in social welfare, make demand for recognition in\nfixing upon what is good. It is desirable to consider first a simpler\nproblem. In the second place, this complex moral life is like the human\nbody in that it contains \"rudiments\" and \"survivals.\" Some of our\npresent standards and ideals were formed at one period in the past, and\nsome at another. Some of these apply to present conditions and some do\nnot. Some are at variance with others. Many apparent conflicts in moral\njudgments are explained when we discover how the judgments came to be\nformed in the first instance. We cannot easily understand the moral life\nof to-day except in the light of earlier morality. The third reason is\nthat we may get a more objective material for study. Our moral life is\nso intimate a part of ourselves that it is hard to observe impartially.\nIts characteristics escape notice because they are so familiar. When we\ntravel we find the customs, laws, and moral standards of other peoples\nstanding out as \"peculiar.\" Until we have been led by some such means to\ncompare our own conduct with that of others it probably does not occur\nto us that our own standards are also peculiar, and hence in need of\nexplanation. It is as difficult scientifically as it is personally \"to\nsee ourselves as others see us.\" It is doubtless true that to see\nourselves merely as others see us would not be enough. Complete moral\nanalysis requires us to take into our reckoning motives and purposes\nwhich may perhaps be undiscoverable by the \"others.\" But it is a great\naid to this completer analysis if we can sharpen our vision and awaken\nour attention by a comparative study. A fourth reason for a genetic\nstudy is that it emphasizes the dynamic, progressive character of\nmorality. Merely to examine the present may easily give the impression\nthat the moral life is not a life, a moving process, something still in\nthe making--but a changeless structure. There is moral progress as well\nas a moral order. This may be discovered by an analysis of the very\nnature of moral conduct, but it stands out more clearly and impressively\nif we trace the actual development in history. Before attempting our\nanalysis of the present moral consciousness and its judgments, we shall\ntherefore give an outline of the earlier stages and simpler phases.\n\n=Theory and Practice.=--Finally, if we can discover ethical principles\nthese ought to give some guidance for the unsolved problems of life\nwhich continually present themselves for decision. Whatever may be true\nfor other sciences it would seem that ethics at least ought to have some\npractical value. \"In this theater of man's life it is reserved for God\nand the angels to be lookers on.\" Man must act; and he must act well or\nill, rightly or wrongly. If he has reflected, has considered his conduct\nin the light of the general principles of human order and progress, he\nought to be able to act more intelligently and freely, to achieve the\nsatisfaction that always attends on scientific as compared with\nuncritical or rule-of-thumb practice. Socrates gave the classic\nstatement for the study of conduct when he said, \"A life unexamined,\nuncriticized, is not worthy of man.\"\n\n\nSec. 2. CRITERION OF THE MORAL\n\nIt is not proposed to attempt at this point an accurate or minute\nstatement of what is implied in moral conduct, as this is the task of\nPart II. But for the purposes of tracing in Part I. the beginnings of\nmorality, it is desirable to have a sort of rough chart to indicate to\nthe student what to look for in the earlier stages of his exploration,\nand to enable him to keep his bearings on the way.\n\nCertain of the characteristics of the moral may be seen in a\ncross-section, a statement of the elements in moral conduct at a given\ntime. Other characteristics come out more clearly by comparing later\nwith earlier stages. We give first a cross-section.\n\n=1. Characteristics of the Moral Life in Cross-section.=--In this\ncross-section the first main division is suggested by the fact that we\nsometimes give our attention to _what_ is done or intended, and\nsometimes to _how_ or _why_ the act is done. These divisions may turn\nout to be less absolute than they seem, but common life uses them and\nmoral theories have often selected the one or the other as the important\naspect. When we are told to seek peace, tell the truth, or aim at the\ngreatest happiness of the greatest number, we are charged to do or\nintend some definite act. When we are urged to be conscientious or pure\nin heart the emphasis is on a kind of attitude that might go with a\nvariety of acts. A newspaper advocates a good measure. So far, so good.\nBut people may ask, what is the motive in this? and if this is believed\nto be merely selfish, they do not credit the newspaper with having\ngenuine interest in reform. On the other hand, sincerity alone is not\nenough. If a man advocates frankly and sincerely a scheme for enriching\nhimself at the public expense we condemn him. We say his very frankness\nshows his utter disregard for others. One of the great moral\nphilosophers has indeed said that to act rationally is all that is\nnecessary, but he at once goes on to claim that this implies treating\nevery man as an end and not merely a means, and this calls for a\nparticular kind of action. Hence we may assume for the present purpose a\ngeneral agreement that our moral judgments take into account both what\nis done or intended, and how or why the act is done. These two aspects\nare sometimes called the \"matter\" and the \"form,\" or the \"content\" and\nthe attitude. We shall use the simpler terms, the What and the How.\n\n=The \"What\" as a Criterion.=--If we neglect for the moment the How and\nthink of the What, we find two main standpoints employed in judging: one\nis that of \"higher\" and \"lower\" within the man's own self; the other is\nhis treatment of others.\n\nThe distinction between a higher and lower self has many guises. We\nspeak of a man as \"a slave to his appetites,\" of another as possessed by\ngreed for money, of another as insatiately ambitious. Over against these\npassions we hear the praise of scientific pursuits, of culture, of art,\nof friendship, of meditation, or of religion. We are bidden to think of\nthings [Greek: semna], nobly serious. A life of the spirit is set off\nagainst the life of the flesh, the finer against the coarser, the nobler\nagainst the baser. However misguided the forms in which this has been\ninterpreted, there is no doubt as to the reality of the conflicting\nimpulses which give rise to the dualism. The source is obvious. Man\nwould not be here if self-preservation and self-assertion and sex\ninstinct were not strongly rooted in his system. These may easily\nbecome dominant passions. But just as certainly, man cannot be all that\nhe may be unless he controls these impulses and passions by other\nmotives. He has first to create for himself a new world of ideal\ninterests before he finds his best life. The appetites and instincts may\nbe \"natural,\" in the sense that they are the beginning; the mental and\nspiritual life is \"natural,\" as Aristotle puts it, in the sense that\nman's full nature is developed only in such a life.\n\nThe other aspect of the What, the treatment of others, need not detain\nus. Justice, kindness, the conduct of the Golden Rule are the right and\ngood. Injustice, cruelty, selfishness are the wrong and the bad.\n\n=Analysis of the How: the Right and the Good.=--We have used right and\ngood as though they might be used interchangeably in speaking of\nconduct. Perhaps this may in the end prove to be true. If an act is\nright, then the hero or the saint may believe that it is also good; if\nan act is good in the fullest sense, then it will commend itself as\nright. But right and good evidently approach conduct from two different\npoints of view. These might have been noted when speaking of the content\nor the What, but they are more important in considering the How.\n\nIt is evident that when we speak of conduct as _right_ we think of it as\nbefore a judge. We bring the act to a standard, and measure the act. We\nthink too of this standard as a \"moral law\" which we \"ought\" to obey. We\nrespect its authority and hold ourselves responsible. The standard is\nconceived as a control over our impulses and desires. The man who\nrecognizes such a law and is anxious to find and to do his duty, we call\nconscientious; as governing his impulses, he has self-control; as\nsquaring his conduct strictly by his standard, he is upright and\nreliable.\n\nIf I think of \"_good_,\" I am approaching conduct from the standpoint of\nvalue. I am thinking of what is desirable. This too is a standard, but\nit is a standard regarded as an end to be sought rather than as a law. I\nam to \"choose\" it and identify myself with it, rather than to control\nmyself by it. It is an \"ideal.\" The conscientious man, viewed from this\nstandpoint, would seek to discover the true good, to value his ends, to\nform ideals, instead of following impulse or accepting any seeming good\nwithout careful consideration. In so far as impulses are directed by\nideals the thoroughly good man will be straightforward, \"sincere\": that\nis, he will not be moved to do the good act by fear of punishment, or by\nbribery, just as the upright man will be \"governed by a sense of duty,\"\nof \"respect for principles.\"\n\n=Summary of the Characteristics of the Moral.=--To sum up the main\ncharacteristics of the moral life viewed in cross-section, or when in\nfull activity, we may state them as follows:\n\nOn the side of the \"what,\" there are two aspects:\n\n(a) The dominance of \"higher,\" ideal interests of knowledge, art,\nfreedom, rights, and the \"life of the spirit.\"\n\n(b) Regard for others, under its various aspects of justice, sympathy,\nand benevolence.\n\nOn the side of the \"how\" the important aspects are:\n\n(a) The recognition of some standard, which may arise either as a\ncontrol in the guise of \"right\" and \"law,\" or as measure of value in the\nform of an ideal to be followed or good to be approved.\n\n(b) A sense of duty and respect for the law; sincere love of the good.\n\n(a) and (b) of this latter division are both included under the\n\"conscientious\" attitude.\n\n=2. The Moral as a Growth.=--The psychologists distinguish _three\nstages_ in conduct: (a) Instinctive activity. (b) Attention; the stage\nof conscious direction or control of action by imagery; of\ndeliberation, desire, and choice. (c) Habit; the stage of unconscious\nactivity along lines set by previous action. Consciousness thus\n\"occupies a curious middle ground between hereditary reflex and\nautomatic activities upon the one hand and acquired habitual activities\nupon the other.\" Where the original equipment of instincts fails to meet\nsome new situation, when there are stimulations for which the system has\nno ready-made response, consciousness appears. It selects from the\nvarious responses those which suit the purpose, and when these responses\nhave become themselves automatic, habitual, consciousness \"betakes\nitself elsewhere to points where habitual accommodatory movements are as\nyet wanting and needed.\"[2] To apply this to the moral development we\nneed only to add that this process repeats itself over and over. The\nstarting-point for each later repetition is not the hereditary instinct,\nbut the habits which have been formed. For the habits formed at one age\nof the individual's life, or at one stage of race development, prove\ninadequate for more complex situations. The child leaves home, the\nsavage tribe changes to agricultural life, and the old habits no longer\nmeet the need. Attention is again demanded. There is deliberation,\nstruggle, effort. If the result is successful new habits are formed, but\nupon a higher level. For the new habits, the new character, embody more\nintelligence. The first stage, purely instinctive action, we do not call\nmoral conduct. It is of course not _im_moral; it is merely _un_moral.\nThe second stage shows morality in the making. It includes the process\nof transition from impulse, through desire to will. It involves the\nstress of conflicting interests, the processes of deliberation and\nvaluation, and the final act of choice. It will be illustrated in our\ntreatment of race development by the change from early group life and\ncustoms to the more conscious moral life of higher civilization. The\nthird stage, well-organized character, is the goal of the process. But\nit is evidently only a relative point. A good man has built up a set of\nhabits; a good society has established certain laws and moral codes. But\nunless the man or society is in a changeless world with no new\nconditions there will be new problems. And this means that however good\nthe habit was for its time and purpose there must be new choices and new\nvaluations. A character that would run automatically in every case would\nbe pretty nearly a mechanism. It is therefore the second stage of this\nprocess that is the stage of active moral consciousness. It is upon this\nthat we focus our attention.\n\nMoral growth from the first on through the second stage may be described\nas a process in which man becomes more _rational_, more _social_, and\nfinally more _moral_. We examine briefly each of these aspects.\n\n=The Rationalizing or Idealizing Process.=--The first need of the\norganism is to live and grow. The first instincts and impulses are\ntherefore for food, self-defence, and other immediate necessities.\nPrimitive men eat, sleep, fight, build shelters, and give food and\nprotection to their offspring. The \"rationalizing\" process will mean at\nfirst greater use of intelligence to satisfy these same wants. It will\nshow itself in skilled occupations, in industry and trade, in the\nutilizing of all resources to further man's power and happiness. But to\nrationalize conduct is also to introduce new ends. It not only enables\nman to get what he wants; it changes the kind of objects that he wants.\nThis shows itself externally in what man makes and in how he occupies\nhimself. He must of course have food and shelter. But he makes temples\nand statues and poems. He makes myths and theories of the world. He\ncarries on great enterprises in commerce or government, not so much to\ngratify desires for bodily wants as to experience the growth of power.\nHe creates a family life which is raised to a higher level by art and\nreligion. He does not live by bread only, but builds up gradually a\nlife of reason. Psychologically this means that whereas at the beginning\nwe want what our body calls for, we soon come to want things which the\nmind takes an interest in. As we form by memory, imagination, and reason\na more continuous, permanent, highly-organized self, we require a far\nmore permanent and ideal kind of good to satisfy us. This gives rise to\nthe contrast between the material and ideal selves, or in another form,\nbetween \"the world\" and \"the spirit.\"\n\n=The Socializing Process.=--The \"socializing\" side of the process of\ndevelopment stands for an increased capacity to enter into relations\nwith other human beings. Like the growth of reason it is both a means\nand an end. It has its roots in certain instincts--sex, gregariousness,\nparental instincts--and in the necessities of mutual support and\nprotection. But the associations thus formed imply a great variety of\nactivities which call out new powers and set up new ends. Language is\none of the first of these activities and a first step toward more\ncomplete socialization. Cooperation, in all kinds of enterprises,\ninterchange of services and goods, participation in social arts,\nassociations for various purposes, institutions of blood, family,\ngovernment, and religion, all add enormously to the individual's power.\nOn the other hand, as he enters into these relations and becomes a\n\"member\" of all these bodies he inevitably undergoes a transformation in\nhis interests. Psychologically the process is one of building up a\n\"social\" self. Imitation and suggestion, sympathy and affection, common\npurpose and common interest, are the aids in building such a self. As\nthe various instincts, emotions, and purposes are more definitely\norganized into such a unit, it becomes possible to set off the interests\nof others against those interests that center in my more individual\ngood. Conscious egoism and altruism become possible. And in a way that\nwill be explained, the interests of self and others are raised to the\nplane of rights and justice.\n\n=What is Needed to Make Conduct Moral.=--All this is not yet moral\nprogress in the fullest sense. The progress to more rational and more\nsocial conduct is the indispensable condition of the moral, but not the\nwhole story. What is needed is that the more rational and social conduct\nshould itself be valued as good, and so be chosen and sought; or in\nterms of control, that the law which society or reason prescribes should\nbe consciously thought of as right, used as a standard, and respected as\nbinding. This gives the contrast between the higher and lower, as a\nconscious aim, not merely as a matter of taste. It raises the collision\nbetween self and others to the basis of personal rights and justice, of\ndeliberate selfishness or benevolence. Finally it gives the basis for\nsuch organization of the social and rational choices that the progress\nalready gained may be permanently secured, while the attention, the\nstruggle between duty and inclination, the conscious choice, move\nforward to a new issue. Aristotle made these points clear:\n\n    \"But the virtues are not in this point analogous to the arts. The\n    products of art have their excellence in themselves, and so it is\n    enough if when produced they are of a certain quality; but in the\n    case of the virtues, a man is not said to act justly or\n    temperately (or like a just or temperate man) if what he does\n    merely be of a certain sort--he must also be in a certain state of\n    mind when he does it: i.e., first of all, he must know what he is\n    doing; secondly, he must choose it, and choose it for itself; and,\n    thirdly, his act must be the expression of a formed and stable\n    character.\"\n\n=Summary of the Characteristics of the Moral as Growth.=--The full cycle\nhas three stages:\n\n(a) Instinctive or habitual action.\n\n(b) Action under the stress of attention, with conscious intervention\nand reconstruction.\n\n(c) Organization of consciously directed conduct into habits and a self\nof a higher order: Character.\n\nThe advance from (a) to and through (b) has three aspects.\n\n(a) It is a rationalizing and idealizing process. Reason is both a means\nto secure other ends, and an element in determining what shall be\nsought.\n\n(b) It is a socializing process. Society both strengthens and transforms\nthe individual.\n\n(c) It is a process in which finally conduct itself is made the\nconscious object of reflection, valuation, and criticism. In this the\ndefinitely moral conceptions of right and duty, good and virtue appear.\n\n\nSec. 3. DIVISIONS OF THE TREATMENT\n\nPART I., after a preliminary presentation of certain important aspects\nof group life, will first trace the process of moral development in its\ngeneral outlines, and then give specific illustrations of the process\ntaken from the life of Israel, of Greece, and of modern civilization.\n\nPART II. will analyze conduct or the moral life on its inner, personal\nside. After distinguishing more carefully what is meant by moral action,\nand noting some typical ways in which the moral life has been viewed by\nethical theory, it will examine the meaning of right and good, of duty\nand virtue, and seek to discover the principles underlying moral\njudgments and moral conduct.\n\nPART III. will study conduct as action in society. But instead of a\ngeneral survey, attention will be centered upon three phases of conduct\nwhich are of especial interest and importance. Political rights and\nduties, the production, distribution, and ownership of wealth, and\nfinally the relations of domestic and family life, all present unsettled\nproblems. These challenge the student to make a careful examination, for\nhe must take some attitude as citizen on the issues involved.\n\n\nLITERATURE\n\nThe literature on specific topics will be found at the beginning of each\nPart, and at the close of the several chapters. We indicate here some of\nthe more useful manuals and recent representative works, and add some\nspecific references on the scope and methods of ethics. Baldwin's\n_Dictionary of Philosophy and Psychology_ has selected lists (see\nespecially articles, _Ethical Theories_, _Ethics_, _Worth_) and general\nlists (Vol. III.). Runze, _Ethik_, 1891, has good bibliographies.\n\nELEMENTARY TEXTS: Mackenzie, _Manual of Ethics_, 3rd ed., 1900;\nMuirhead, _Elements of Ethics_, 1892; Seth, _A Study of Ethical\nPrinciples_, 6th ed., 1902; Thilly, _Introduction to Ethics_, 1900.\n\nREPRESENTATIVE BOOKS AND TREATISES IN ENGLISH: Green, _Prolegomena to\nEthics_, 1883 (Idealism); Martineau, _Types of Ethical Theory_, 1885,\n3rd ed., 1891 (Intuitionism); Sidgwick's _Methods of Ethics_, 1874, 6th\ned., 1901 (Union of Intuitionist and Utilitarian Positions with careful\nanalysis of common sense); Spencer, _The Principles of Ethics_, 1892-3\n(Evolution); Stephen's _Science of Ethics_, 1882; The comprehensive work\nof Paulsen (_System der Ethik_, 1889, 5th ed., 1900) has been translated\nin part by Thilly, 1899; that of Wundt (_Ethik_, 1886, 3rd ed., 1903),\nby Titchener, Gulliver, and Washburn, 1897-1901. Among the more recent\ncontributions, either to the whole field or to specific parts, may be\nnoted: Alexander, _Moral Order and Progress_, 1889; 2nd ed., 1891;\nDewey, _Outlines of Ethics_, 1891, and _The Study of Ethics, A\nSyllabus_, 1894; Fite, _An Introductory Study of Ethics_, 1903;\nHoeffding, _Ethik_ (German tr.), 1887; Janet, _The Theory of Morals_\n(Eng. tr.), 1884; Ladd, _The Philosophy of Conduct_, 1902; Mezes,\n_Ethics, Descriptive and Explanatory_, 1900; Moore, _Principia Ethica_,\n1903; Palmer, _The Field of Ethics_, 1902, _The Nature of Goodness_,\n1903; Taylor, _The Problem of Conduct_, 1901; Rashdall, _The Theory of\nGood and Evil_, 1907; Bowne, _The Principles of Ethics_, 1892; Rickaby,\n_Moral Philosophy_, 1888.\n\nHISTORIES OF ETHICS: Sidgwick, _History of Ethics_, 3rd ed., 1892;\nAlbee, _A History of English Utilitarianism_, 1902; Stephen, _The\nUtilitarians_, 1900; Martineau, _Types of Ethical Theory_; Whewell,\n_Lectures on the History of Moral Philosophy in England_, 1852, 1862;\nKoestlin, _Geschichte der Ethik_, 2 vols., 1881-92 (ancient theories);\nJodl, _Geschichte der Ethik_, 2 vols., 1882-89 (modern); Wundt, _Ethik_,\nVol. II.; the histories of philosophy by Windelband, Hoeffding, Erdmann,\nUeberweg, Falckenberg.\n\nSCOPE AND METHOD OF ETHICS: See the opening chapters in nearly all the\nworks cited above, especially Palmer (_Field of Ethics_), Moore,\nStephen, Spencer, Paulsen, and Wundt (_Facts of the Moral Life_); see\nalso Ritchie, _Philosophical Studies_, 1905, pp. 264-291; Wallace,\n_Lectures and Essays on Natural Theology and Ethics_, 1898, pp. 194 ff.;\nDewey, _Logical Conditions of a Scientific Treatment of Morality_\n(_University of Chicago Decennial Publications_, 1903); Stuart, _The\nLogic of Self-realization_, in University of California Publications:\n_Philosophy_, I., 1904; Small, _The Significance of Sociology for\nEthics_, 1902; Hadley, Article _Economic Theory_ in Baldwin's _Dict._\n\nRELATION OF THEORY TO LIFE: Green, _Prolegomena_, Book IV.; Dewey,\n_International Journal of Ethics_, Vol. I., 1891, pp. 186-203; James,\nsame journal, Vol. I., 330-354; Mackenzie, same journal, Vol. IV., 1894,\npp. 160-173.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] Plato, _Protagoras_, 320 ff.\n\n[2] Angell, _Psychology_, p. 59.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nPART I\n\nTHE BEGINNINGS AND GROWTH OF MORALITY\n\n\nGENERAL LITERATURE FOR PART I\n\nHobhouse, _Morals in Evolution_, 2 vols., 1906.\n\nWestermarck, _The Origin and Development of Moral Ideas_, Vol. I., 1906.\n\nSutherland, _The Origin and Growth of the Moral Instinct_, 2 vols.,\n1898.\n\nWundt, _Facts of the Moral Life_, 1902; also _Ethik_, 3rd ed., 1903,\nVol. I., pp. 280-523.\n\nPaulsen, _A System of Ethics_, 1899, Book I.\n\nSumner, _Folkways_, 1907.\n\nBergmann, _Ethik als Kulturphilosophie_, 1904.\n\nMezes, _Ethics, Descriptive and Explanatory_, Part I.\n\nDewey, _The Evolutionary Method as Applied to Morality_, Philos. Review,\nXI., 1902, pp. 107-124, 353-371.\n\nAdam Smith, _Theory of Moral Sentiments_, 1759.\n\nBaldwin, _Social and Ethical Interpretations_, 1902.\n\nTaylor, _The Problem of Conduct_, 1901, chap. iii.\n\nSpencer, _Data of Ethics_, 1879; _Psychology_, 1872, Part IX., chs.\nv.-viii.\n\nIhering, _Der Zweck im Recht_, 3rd ed., 1893.\n\nSteinthal, _Allgemeine Ethik_, 1885.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nEARLY GROUP LIFE\n\n\nTo understand the origin and growth of moral life, it is essential to\nunderstand primitive society. And while there is much that is uncertain,\nthere is one fact of capital importance which stands out clearly. This\nis _the dominant influence of group life_. It is not asserted that all\npeoples have had precisely the same type of groups, or the same degree\nof group solidarity. It is beyond question that the ancestors of modern\ncivilized races lived under the general types of group life which will\nbe outlined, and that these types or their survivals are found among the\ngreat mass of peoples to-day.\n\n\nSec. 1. TYPICAL FACTS OF GROUP LIFE\n\nConsider the following incident as related by Dr. Gray:\n\n    \"A Chinese aided by his wife flogged his mother. The imperial\n    order not only commanded that the criminals should be put to\n    death; it further directed that the head of the clan should be put\n    to death; that the immediate neighbors each receive eighty blows\n    and be sent into exile; that the head or representatives of the\n    graduates of the first degree (or B.A.) among whom the male\n    offender ranked should be flogged and exiled; that the granduncle,\n    the uncle, and two elder brothers should be put to death; that the\n    prefect and the rulers should for a time be deprived of their\n    rank; that on the face of the mother of the female offender four\n    Chinese characters expressive of neglect of duty towards her\n    daughter should be tattooed, and that she be exiled to a distant\n    province; that the father of the female offender, a bachelor of\n    arts, should not be allowed to take any higher literary degrees,\n    and that he be flogged and exiled; that the son of the offenders\n    should receive another name, and that the lands of the offender\n    for a time remain fallow.\" (J. H. GRAY, _China_, Vol. I., pp.\n    237 f.)\n\nPut beside this the story of Achan:\n\n    Achan had taken for his own possession certain articles from the\n    spoil of Jericho which had been set apart or \"devoted\" to Jehovah.\n    Israel then suffered a defeat in battle. When Achan's act became\n    known, \"Joshua and all Israel with him took Achan, the son of\n    Zerah, and the mantle, and the wedge of gold, and his sons and his\n    daughters, and his oxen, and his asses, and his sheep, and his\n    tent, and all that he had.... And all Israel stoned him with\n    stones; and they burned them with fire and stoned them with\n    stones.\" (JOSHUA vii: 24, 25.)\n\nThe converse of these situations is brought out in the regulations of\nthe Kumi, a Japanese local institution comprising five or more\nhouseholds:\n\n    \"As members of a Kumi we will cultivate friendly feelings even\n    more than with our relatives, and will promote each other's\n    happiness as well as share each other's grief. If there is an\n    unprincipled or lawless person in a Kumi, we shall all share the\n    responsibility for him.\" (SIMMONS and WIGMORE, _Transactions,\n    Asiatic Society of Japan_, xix., 177 f.)\n\nFor another aspect of the group take Caesar's description of landholding\namong the Germans:\n\n    \"No one possesses privately a definite extent of land; no one has\n    limited fields of his own; but every year the magistrates and\n    chiefs distribute the land to the clans and the kindred groups\n    (_gentibus cognationibusque hominum_) and to those (_other_\n    groups) who live together.\" (_De Bell. Gall._, VI., 22.)\n\nOf the Greeks, our intellectual ancestors, as well as fellow Aryans, it\nis stated that in Attica, even to a late period, the land remained to a\nlarge degree in possession of ideal persons, gods, phylae (tribes) or\nphratries, kinships, political communities. Even when the superficies of\nthe land might be regarded as private, mines were reserved as\npublic.[3] The basis on which these kinship groups rested is thus stated\nby Grote:[4]\n\n    \"All these phratric and gentile associations, the larger as well\n    as the smaller, were founded upon the same principles and\n    tendencies of the Grecian mind--a coalescence of the idea of\n    worship with that of ancestry, or of communion in certain special\n    religious rites with communion of blood, real or supposed.\"\n    \"The god or hero, to whom the assembled members offered their\n    sacrifices, was conceived as the primitive ancestor to whom they\n    owed their origin.\"\n\nCoulanges gives a similar statement as to the ancient family group:[5]\n\n    \"The members of the ancient family were united by something more\n    powerful than birth, affection, or physical strength; this was the\n    religion of the sacred fire, and of dead ancestors. This caused\n    the family to form a single body both in this life and in the\n    next.\"\n\nFinally, the following passage on clanship among the Kafirs brings out\ntwo points: (1) That such a group life implies feelings and ideas of a\ndistinctive sort; and (2) that it has a strength rooted in the very\nnecessities of life.\n\n    \"A Kafir feels that the 'frame that binds him in' extends to the\n    clan. The sense of solidarity of the family in Europe is thin and\n    feeble compared to the full-blooded sense of corporate union of\n    the Kafir clan. The claims of the clan entirely swamp the rights\n    of the individual. The system of tribal solidarity, which has\n    worked so well in its smoothness that it might satisfy the utmost\n    dreams of the socialist, is a standing proof of the sense of\n    corporate union of the clan. In olden days a man did not have any\n    feeling of personal injury when a chief made him work for white\n    men and then told him to give all, or nearly all of his wages to\n    his chief; the money was kept within the clan, and what was the\n    good of the clan was the good of the individual and _vice versa_.\n    The striking thing about this unity of the clan is that it was\n    not a thought-out plan imposed from without by legislation upon an\n    unwilling people, but it was a _felt-out_ plan which arose\n    spontaneously along the line of least resistance. If one member of\n    the clan suffered, all the members suffered, not in sentimental\n    phraseology, but in real fact.\" (DUDLEY KIDD, _Savage Childhood_,\n    pp. 74 f.)\n\nThe above passages refer to Aryan, Semitic, Mongolian, and Kafir\npeoples. They could be matched by similar statements concerning nearly\nevery people. They suggest a way of living, and a view of life very\ndifferent from that of the American or of most Europeans.[6] The\nAmerican or European belongs to groups of various kinds, but he \"joins\"\nmost of them. He of course is born into a family, but he does not stay\nin it all his life unless he pleases. And he may choose his own\noccupation, residence, wife, political party, religion, social club, or\neven national allegiance. He may own or sell his own house, give or\nbequeath his property, and is responsible generally speaking for no\none's acts but his own. This makes him an \"individual\" in a much fuller\nsense than he would be if all these relations were settled for him. On\nthe other hand, the member of such groups as are referred to in our\nexamples above, has all, or nearly all, his relations fixed when he is\nborn into a certain clan or family group. This settles his occupation,\ndwelling, gods, and politics. If it doesn't decide upon his wife, it at\nleast usually fixes the group from which she must be taken. His\nconditions, in the words of Maine, are thus of \"status,\" not of\n\"contract.\" This makes a vast difference in his whole attitude. It will\nhelp to bring out more clearly by contrast the character of present\nmorality, as well as to see moral life in the making, if we examine more\ncarefully this group life. We shall find, as brought out in the\npassages already quoted, that the most important type of group is at\nonce a kindred or family, an economic, a political, a religious, and a\nmoral unit. First, however, we notice briefly the most important types\nof groups.\n\n\nSec. 2. KINSHIP AND HOUSEHOLD GROUPS\n\n=1. The Kinship Group.=--The kinship group is a body of persons who\nconceive of themselves as sprung from one ancestor, and hence as having\nin their veins one blood. It does not matter for our study whether each\ngroup has actually sprung from a single ancestor. It is highly probable\nthat the contingencies of food-supply or of war may have been an\noriginal cause for the constitution of the group, wholly or in part. But\nthis is of no consequence for our purpose. The important point is that\nthe members of the group regard themselves as of one stock. In some\ncases the ancestor is believed to have been an animal. Then we have the\nso-called totem group, which is found among North American Indians,\nAfricans, and Australians, and was perhaps the early form of Semitic\ngroups. In other cases, some hero or even some god is named as the\nancestor. In any case the essential part of the theory remains the same:\nnamely, that one blood circulates in all the members, and hence that the\nlife of each is a part of the common life of the group. There are then\nno degrees of kindred. This group, it should be noted, is not the same\nas the family, for in the family, as a rule, husband and wife are of\ndifferent kinship groups, and continue their several kinship relations.\nAmong some peoples marriage ceremonies, indeed, symbolize the admission\nof the wife into the husband's kinship, and in this case the family\nbecomes a kinship group, but this is by no means universally the case.\n\nThe feeling that one is first and foremost a member of a group, rather\nthan an individual, is furthered among certain kin groups by a scheme of\nclass relationship. According to this system, instead of having one\ndefinite person whom I, and I alone, regard and address as father or\nmother, grandfather, uncle, brother, sister, I call any one of a given\ngroup or class of persons mother, grandfather, brother, sister. And any\none else who is in the same class with me calls the same persons,\nmother, grandfather, brother, or sister.[7] The simplest form of such a\nclass system is that found among the Hawaiians. Here there are five\nclasses based upon the generations corresponding to what we call\ngrandparents, parents, brothers and sisters, children, and\ngrandchildren, but the words used to designate them do not imply any\nsuch specific parentage as do these words with us. Bearing this in mind,\nwe may say that every one in the first class is equally grandparent to\nevery one in the third; every one in the third is equally brother or\nsister to every other in the third, equally father or mother to every\none in the fourth, and so on. In Australia the classes are more numerous\nand the relationships far more intricate and complicated, but this does\nnot, as might be supposed, render the bond relatively unimportant; on\nthe contrary, his relationship to every other class is \"one of the most\nimportant points with which each individual must be acquainted\"; it\ndetermines marital relations, food distribution, salutations, and\ngeneral conduct to an extraordinary degree. A kinship group was known as\n\"tribe\" or \"family\" (English translation) among the Israelites; as\ngenos, phratria, and phyle among the Greeks, gens and curia among the\nRomans; clan in Scotland; sept in Ireland; Sippe in Germany.\n\n=2. The Family or Household Group.=--Two kinds of families may be noted\nas significant for our purpose. In the _maternal family_ the woman\nremains among her own kin, and the children are naturally reckoned as\nbelonging to the mother's kin. The husband and father is more or less a\nguest or outsider. In a blood feud he would have to side with his own\nclan and against that of his wife if his clan quarreled with hers. Clan\nand family are thus seen to be distinct. In the _paternal_, which easily\nbecomes the _patriarchal_ family the wife leaves her relatives to live\nin her husband's house and among his kin. She might then, as at Rome,\nabjure her own kindred and be formally adopted into her husband's gens\nor clan. The Greek myth of Orestes is an illustration of the clashing of\nthese two conceptions of father kin and mother kin, and Hamlet's sparing\nof his mother under similar circumstances, shows a more modern point of\nview.\n\nIt is evident that with the prevalence of the paternal type of family,\nclan and household ties will mutually strengthen each other. This will\nmake an important difference in the father's relation to the children,\nand gives a much firmer basis for ancestral religion. But in many\nrespects the environing atmosphere, the pressure and support, the group\nsympathy and group tradition, are essentially similar. The important\nthing is that every person is a member of a kindred, and likewise, of\nsome family group, and that he thinks, feels, and acts accordingly.[8]\n\n\nSec. 3. THE KINSHIP AND FAMILY GROUPS ARE ALSO ECONOMIC AND INDUSTRIAL\nUNITS\n\n=1. The Land and the Group.=--In land, as a rule, no individual\nownership in the modern sense was recognized. Among hunting and pastoral\npeoples there was, of course, no \"ownership\" by any group in the strict\nsense of modern law. But none the less, the group, large or small, had\nits fairly well-defined territory within which it hunted and fished; in\nthe pastoral life it had its pasture range and its wells of water. With\nagriculture a more definite sense of possession arose. But possession\nwas by the tribe or gens or household, not by the individual:\n\n    \"The land belonged to the clan, and the clan was settled upon the\n    land. A man was thus not a member of the clan, because he lived\n    upon, or even owned, the land; but he lived upon the land, and had\n    interests in it, because he was a member of the clan.\"[9]\n\nGreek and German customs were quoted at the outset. Among the Celts the\nlaws of ancient Ireland show a transitional stage. \"The land of the\ntribe consisted of two distinct allotments, the 'fechfine' or tribeland,\nand the 'orta' or inheritance land. This latter belonged as individual\nproperty to the men of the chieftain groups.\"[10] The Hindoo\njoint-family and the house-community of the Southern Slavonians are\npresent examples of group ownership. They are joint in food, worship,\nand estate. They have a common home, a common table. Maxims of the Slavs\nexpress their appreciation of community life: \"The common household\nwaxes rich\"; \"The more bees in the hive, the heavier it weighs.\" One\ndifficulty in the English administration of Ireland has been this\nradical difference between the modern Englishman's individualistic\nconception of property and the Irishman's more primitive conception of\ngroup or clan ownership. Whether rightly or not, the Irish tenant\nrefuses to regard himself as merely a tenant. He considers himself as a\nmember of a family or group which formerly owned the land, and he does\nnot admit the justice, even though he cannot disprove the legality, of\nan alienation of the group possession. For such a clan or household as\nwe have described is not merely equivalent to the persons who compose it\nat a given time. Its property belongs to the ancestors and to the\nposterity as well as to the present possessors; and hence in some groups\nwhich admit an individual possession or use during life, no right of\ndevise or inheritance is permitted. The property reverts at death to the\nwhole gens or clan. In other cases a child may inherit, but in default\nof such an heir the property passes to the common possession. The right\nto bequeath property to the church was long a point on which civil law\nand canon law were at variance. The relations of the primitive clan or\nhousehold group to land were therefore decidedly adapted to keep the\nindividual's good bound up with the good of the group.\n\n=2. Movable Goods.=--In the case of movable goods, such as tools,\nweapons, cattle, the practice is not uniform. When the goods are the\nproduct of the individual's own skill or prowess they are usually his.\nTools, weapons, slaves or women captured, products of some special craft\nor skill, are thus usually private. But when the group acts as a unit\nthe product is usually shared. The buffalo and salmon and large game\nwere thus for the whole Indian group which hunted or fished together;\nand in like manner the maize which was tended by the women belonged to\nthe household in common. Slavic and Indian house communities at the\npresent day have a common interest in the household property. Even women\nand children among some tribes are regarded as the property of the\ngroup.\n\n\nSec. 4. THE KINSHIP AND FAMILY GROUPS WERE POLITICAL BODIES\n\nIn a modern family the parents exercise a certain degree of control over\nthe children, but this is limited in several respects. No parent is\nallowed to put a child to death, or to permit him to grow up in\nignorance. On the other hand, the parent is not allowed to protect the\nchild from arrest if a serious injury has been done by him. The _State_,\nthrough its laws and officers, is regarded by us as the highest\nauthority in a certain great sphere of action. It must settle\nconflicting claims and protect life and property; in the opinion of many\nit must organize the life of its members where the cooperation of every\nmember is necessary for some common good. In early group life there may\nor may not be some political body over and above the clan or family, but\nin any case the _kin or family is itself a sort of political State_. Not\na State in the sense that the political powers are deliberately\nseparated from personal, religious, and family ties; men gained a new\nconception of authority and rose to a higher level of possibilities when\nthey consciously separated and defined government and laws from the\nundifferentiated whole of a religious and kindred group. But yet this\nprimitive group was after all a State, not a mob, or a voluntary\nsociety, or a mere family; for (1) it was a more or less permanently\norganized body; (2) it exercised control over its members which they\nregarded as rightful authority, not as mere force; (3) it was not\nlimited by any higher authority, and acted more or less effectively for\nthe interest of the whole. The representatives of this political aspect\nof the group may be chiefs or sachems, a council of elders, or, as in\nRome, the House Father, whose _patria potestas_ marks the extreme\ndevelopment of the patriarchal family.\n\nThe control exercised by the group over individual members assumes\nvarious forms among the different peoples. The more important aspects\nare a right over life and bodily freedom, in some cases extending to\npower of putting to death, maiming, chastising, deciding whether newly\nborn children shall be preserved or not; the right of betrothal, which\nincludes control over the marriage portion received for its women; and\nthe right to administer property of the kin in behalf of the kin as a\nwhole. It is probable that among all these various forms of control, the\ncontrol over the marriage relations of women has been most persistent.\nOne reason for this control may have been the fact that the group was\nbound to resent injuries of a member of the group who had been married\nto another. Hence this responsibility seemed naturally to involve the\nright of decision as to her marriage.\n\n=It is Membership in the Group Which Gives the Individual Whatever\nRights He Has.=--According to present conceptions this is still largely\ntrue of legal rights. A State may allow a citizen of another country to\nown land, to sue in its courts, and will usually give him a certain\namount of protection, but the first-named rights are apt to be limited,\nand it is only a few years since Chief Justice Taney's dictum stated the\nexisting legal theory of the United States to be that the negro \"had no\nrights which the white man was bound to respect.\" Even where legal\ntheory does not recognize race or other distinctions, it is often hard\nin practice for an alien to get justice. In primitive clan or family\ngroups this principle is in full force. Justice is a privilege which\nfalls to a man as belonging to some group--not otherwise. The member of\nthe clan or the household or the village community has a claim, but the\nstranger has no standing. He may be treated kindly, as a guest, but he\ncannot demand \"justice\" at the hands of any group but his own. In this\nconception of rights within the group we have the prototype of modern\ncivil law. The dealing of clan with clan is a matter of war or\nnegotiation, not of law; and the clanless man is an \"outlaw\" in fact as\nwell as in name.\n\n=Joint Responsibility= and mutual support, as shown in the blood feud,\nwas a natural consequence of this fusion of political and kindred\nrelations. In modern life States treat each other as wholes in certain\nrespects. If some member of a savage tribe assaults a citizen of one of\nthe civilized nations, the injured party invokes the help of his\ngovernment. A demand is usually made that the guilty party be delivered\nup for trial and punishment. If he is not forthcoming a \"punitive\nexpedition\" is organized against the whole tribe; guilty and innocent\nsuffer alike. Or in lieu of exterminating the offending tribe, in part\nor completely, the nation of the injured man may accept an indemnity in\nmoney or land from the offender's tribe. Recent dealings between British\nand Africans, Germans and Africans, France and Morocco, the United\nStates and the Filipinos, the Powers and China, illustrate this. The\nState protects its own members against other States, and avenges them\nupon other States. Each opposes a united body to the other. The same\nprinciple carried out through private citizens as public agents, and\napplied to towns, is seen in the practice which prevailed in the Middle\nAges. \"When merchants of one country had been defrauded by those of\nanother, or found it impossible to collect a debt from them, the former\ncountry issued letters of marque and reprisal, authorizing the plunder\nof any citizens of the offending town until satisfaction should be\nobtained.\" Transfer the situation to the early clan or tribe, and this\nsolidarity is increased because each member is related to the rest by\nblood, as well as by national unity. The Arabs do not say \"The blood of\nM. or N. has been spilt,\" naming the man; they say, \"Our blood has been\nspilt.\"[11] The whole group, therefore, feels injured and regards every\nman in the offender's kin as more or less responsible. The next of kin,\nthe \"avenger of blood,\" stands first in duty and privilege, but the rest\nare all involved in greater or less degree.\n\n=Within the Group= each member will be treated more or less fully as an\nindividual. If he takes his kinsman's wife or his kinsman's game he will\nbe dealt with by the authorities or by the public opinion of his group.\nHe will not indeed be put to death if he kills his kinsman, but he will\nbe hated, and may be driven out. \"Since the living kin is not killed for\nthe sake of the dead kin, everybody will hate to see him.\"[12]\n\nWhen now a smaller group, like a family, is at the same time a part of a\nlarger group like a phratry or a tribe, we have the phase of solidarity\nwhich is so puzzling to the modern. We hold to solidarity in war or\nbetween nations; but with a few exceptions[13] we have replaced it by\nindividual responsibility of adults for debts and crimes so far as the\ncivil law has jurisdiction. In earlier times the higher group or\nauthority treated the smaller as a unit. Achan's family all perished\nwith him. The Chinese sense of justice recognized a series of degrees in\nresponsibility dependent on nearness of kin or of residence, or of\noccupation. The Welsh system held kinsmen as far as second cousins\nresponsible for insult or injury short of homicide, and as far as fifth\ncousins (seventh degree of descent) for the payment in case of homicide.\n\"The mutual responsibility of kinsmen for _saraal_ and _galanas_ (the\nWergild of the Germans), graduated according to nearness of kin to the\nmurdered man and to the criminal, reveals more clearly than anything\nelse the extent to which the individual was bound by innumerable meshes\nto his fixed place in the tribal community.\"[14]\n\n\nSec. 5. THE KINSHIP OR HOUSEHOLD GROUP WAS A RELIGIOUS UNIT\n\nThe kinship or household group determined largely both the ideas and the\ncultus of primitive religion; conversely religion gave completeness,\nvalue, and sacredness to the group life. Kinship with unseen powers or\npersons was the fundamental religious idea. The kinship group as a\nreligious body _simply extended the kin to include invisible as well as\nvisible members_. The essential feature of religion is not unseen beings\nwho are feared, or cajoled, or controlled by magic. It is rather\n_kindred_ unseen beings, who may be feared, but who are also reverenced\nand loved. The kinship may be physical or spiritual, but however\nconceived it makes gods and worshippers members of one group.[15]\n\n=1. Totem Groups.=--In totem groups, the prevailing conception is that\none blood circulates in all the members of the group and that the\nancestor of the whole group is some object of nature, such as sun or\nmoon, plant or animal. Perhaps the most interesting and intelligible\naccount of the relation between the animal ancestor and the members of\nthe group is that which has recently been discovered in certain\nAustralian tribes who believe that every child, at its birth, is the\nreincarnation of some previous member of the group, and that these\nancestors were an actual transformation of animals and plants, or of\nwater, fire, wind, sun, moon, or stars. Such totem groups cherish that\nanimal which they believe to be their ancestor and ordinarily will not\nkill it or use it for food. The various ceremonies of religious\ninitiation are intended to impress upon the younger members of the group\nthe sacredness of this kindred bond which units them to each other and\nto their totem. The beginnings of decorative art frequently express the\nimportance of the symbol, and the totem is felt to be as distinctly a\nmember of the group as is any of the human members.\n\n=2. Ancestral Religion.=--At a somewhat higher stage of civilization,\nand usually in connection with the patriarchal households or groups in\nwhich kinship is reckoned through the male line, the invisible members\nof the group are the _departed ancestors_. This ancestor worship is a\npower to-day in China and Japan, and in the tribes of the Caucasus. The\nancient Semites, Romans, Teutons, Celts, Hindoos, all had their kindred\ngods of the household. The Roman genius, lares, penates, and manes,\nperhaps the Hebrew teraphim,--prized by Laban and Rachel, kept by David,\nvalued in the time of Hosea,--were loved and honored side by side with\nother deities. Sometimes the nature deities, such as Zeus or Jupiter,\nwere incorporated with the kinship or family gods. The Greek Hestia and\nRoman Vesta symbolized the sacredness of the hearth. The kinship tie\nthus determined for every member of the group his religion.\n\n=Religion Completes the Group.=--Conversely, this bond of union with\nunseen, yet ever present and powerful kindred spirits completed the\ngroup and gave to it its highest authority, its fullest value, its\ndeepest sacredness. If the unseen kin are nature beings, they symbolize\nfor man his dependence upon nature and his kinship in some vague fashion\nwith the cosmic forces. If the gods are the departed ancestors, they are\nthen conceived as still potent, like Father Anchises, to protect and\nguide the fortunes of their offspring. The wisdom, courage, and\naffection, as well as the power of the great heroes of the group, live\non. The fact that the gods are unseen enhances tremendously their\nsupposed power. The visible members of the group may be strong, but\ntheir strength can be measured. The living elders may be wise, yet they\nare not far beyond the rest of the group. But the invisible beings\ncannot be measured. The long-departed ancestor may have inconceivable\nage and wisdom. The imagination has free scope to magnify his power and\ninvest him with all the ideal values it can conceive. The religious bond\nis, therefore, fitted to be the bearer, as the religious object is the\nembodiment in concrete form, of the higher standards of the group, and\nto furnish the sanction for their enforcement or adoption.\n\n\nSec. 6. GROUPS OR CLASSES ON THE BASIS OF AGE AND SEX\n\nWhile the kindred and family groups are by far the most important for\nearly morality, other groupings are significant. The division by ages is\nwidespread. The simplest scheme gives three classes: (1) children, (2)\nyoung men and maidens, (3) married persons. Puberty forms the bound\nbetween the first and second; marriage that between the second and\nthird. Distinct modes of dress and ornament, frequently also different\nresidences and standards of conduct, belong to these several classes. Of\ngroups on the basis of sex, the _men's clubs_ are especially worthy of\nnote. They flourish now chiefly in the islands of the Pacific, but there\nare indications, such as the common meals of the Spartans, of a wide\nspread among European peoples in early times. The fundamental idea[16]\nseems to be that of a common house for the unmarried young men, where\nthey eat, sleep, and pass their time, whereas the women, children, and\nmarried men sleep and eat in the family dwelling. But in most cases all\nthe men resort to the clubhouse by day. Strangers may be entertained\nthere. It thus forms a sort of general center for the men's activities,\nand for the men's conversation. As such, it is an important agency for\nforming and expressing public opinion, and for impressing upon the young\nmen just entering the house the standards of the older members. Further,\nin some cases these houses become the center of rites to the dead, and\nthus add the impressiveness of religious significance to their other\nactivities.\n\nFinally, _secret societies_ may be mentioned as a subdivision of sex\ngroups, for among primitive peoples such societies are confined in\nalmost all cases to the men. They seem in many cases to have grown out\nof the age classes already described. The transition from childhood to\nmanhood, mysterious in itself, was invested with further mysteries by\nthe old men who conducted the ceremonies of initiation. Masks were worn,\nor the skulls of deceased ancestors were employed, to give additional\nmystery and sanctity. The increased power gained by secrecy would often\nbe itself sufficient to form a motive for such organization, especially\nwhere they had some end in view not approved by the dominant\nauthorities. Sometimes they exercise strict authority over their\nmembers, and assume judicial and punitive functions, as in the Vehm of\nthe Middle Ages. Sometimes they become merely leagues of enemies to\nsociety.\n\n\nSec. 7. MORAL SIGNIFICANCE OF THE KINDRED AND OTHER GROUPS\n\nThe moral in this early stage is not to be looked for as something\ndistinct from the political, religious, kindred, and sympathetic aspects\nof the clan, family, and other groups. The question rather is, _How far\nare these very political, religious, and other aspects implicitly\nmoral_? If by moral we mean a conscious testing of conduct by an inner\nand self-imposed standard, if we mean a freely chosen as contrasted with\na habitual or customary standard, then evidently we have the moral only\nin germ. For the standards are group standards, rather than those of\nindividual conscience; they operate largely through habit rather than\nthrough choice. Nevertheless they are not set for the individual by\noutsiders. They are set by a group of which he is a member. They are\nenforced by a group _of which he is a member_. Conduct is praised or\nblamed, punished or rewarded by the group of which he is a member.\nProperty is administered, industry is carried on, wars and feuds\nprosecuted for the common good. What the group does, each member joins\nin doing. It is a reciprocal matter: A helps enforce a rule or impose a\nservice on B; he cannot help feeling it fair when the same rule is\napplied to himself. He has to \"play the game,\" and usually he expects to\nplay it as a matter of course. Each member, therefore, is practicing\ncertain acts, standing in certain relations, maintaining certain\nattitudes, just because he is one of the group which does these things\nand maintains these standards. And he does not act in common with the\ngroup without sharing in the group emotions. It is a grotesque\nperversion to conceive the restraints of gods and chiefs as purely\nexternal terrors. The primitive group could enter into the spirit\nimplied in the words of the Athenian chorus, which required of an alien\nupon adoption\n\n  \"To loathe whate'er our state does hateful hold,\n  To reverence what it loves.\"[17]\n\nThe gregarious instinct may be the most elemental of the impulses which\nbind the group together, but it is reinforced by sympathies and\nsentiments growing out of common life, common work, common danger,\ncommon religion. The morality is already implicit, it needs only to\nbecome conscious. The standards are embodied in the old men or the gods;\nthe rational good is in the inherited wisdom; the respect for sex, for\nproperty rights, and for the common good, is embodied in the system--but\nit is there. Nor are the union and control a wholly objective affair.\n\"The corporate union was not a pretty religious fancy with which to\nplease the mind, but was so truly felt that it formed an excellent basis\nfrom which the altruistic sentiment might start. Gross selfishness was\ncurbed, and the turbulent passions were restrained by an impulse which\nthe man felt welling up within him, instinctive and unbidden. Clannish\ncamaraderie was thus of immense value to the native races.\"[18]\n\n\nLITERATURE\n\nThe works of Hobhouse, Sumner, Westermarck contain copious references to\nthe original sources. Among the most valuable are:\n\nFOR SAVAGE PEOPLE: Waitz, _Anthropologie der Naturvoelker_, 1859-72;\nTylor, _Primitive Culture_, 1903; Spencer and Gillen, _The Native Tribes\nof Central Australia_, 1899, and _The Northern Tribes of Central\nAustralia_, 1904; Howitt and Fison, _Kamilaroi and Kurnai_, 1880;\nHowitt, _The Native Tribes of S. E. Australia_, 1904; N. Thomas,\n_Kinship, Organization and Group Marriages in Australia_, 1906; Morgan,\n_Houses and House-life of the American Aborigines_, 1881, _The League of\nthe Iroquois_, 1851, _Systems of Consanguinity, Smithsonian\nContributions_, 1871, _Ancient Society_, 1877. Many papers in the\n_Reports of the Bureau of Ethnology_, especially by Powell in 1st,\n1879-80; Dorsey in 3rd, 1881-82, Mendeleff in 19th, 1893-94.\n\nFOR INDIA, CHINA, AND JAPAN: Lyall, _Asiatic Studies, Religious and\nSocial_, 1882; Gray, _China_, 1878; Smith, _Chinese Characteristics_,\n1894; _Village Life in China_, 1899; Nitobe, _Bushido_, 1905; L. Hearn,\n_Japan_, 1904.\n\nFOR SEMITIC AND INDO-GERMANIC PEOPLES: W. R. Smith, _Kinship and\nMarriage in Early Arabia_, 1885; _The Religion of the Semites_, 1894; W.\nHearn, _The Aryan Household_, 1879; Coulanges, _The Ancient City_, 1873;\nSeebohm, _The Tribal System in Wales_, 1895, and _Tribal Custom in\nAnglo-Saxon Law_, 1902; Krauss, _Sitte und Brauch der Suedslaven_, 1885.\n\nGENERAL: Grosse, _Die Formen der Familie und die Formen der\nWirthschaft_, 1896; Starke, _The Primitive Family_, 1889; Maine,\n_Ancient Law_, 1885; McLennan, _Studies in Ancient History_, 1886;\nRivers, _On the Origin of the Classificatory System of Relationships_,\nin Anthropological Essays, presented to E. B. Tylor, 1907; Ratzel,\n_History of Mankind_, 1896-98; Kovalevsky, _Tableau des origines et de\nl'Evolution de la Famille et de la Propriete_, 1890; Giddings,\n_Principles of Sociology_, 1896, pp. 157-168, 256-298; Thomas, _Relation\nof Sex to Primitive Social Control_ in Sex and Society, 1907; Webster,\n_Primitive Secret Societies_, 1908; Simmel, _The Sociology of Secrecy\nand of Secret Societies_, American Journal Sociology, Vol. XI., 1906,\npp. 441-498. See also the references at close of Chapters VI., VII.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[3] Wilamowitz-Moellendorf, _Aristotle und Athen_, II. 93, 47.\n\n[4] _History of Greece_, III., 55.\n\n[5] _The Ancient City_, p. 51.\n\n[6] Russian mirs, South Slavonian \"joint\" families, Corsican clans with\ntheir vendettas, and tribes in the Caucasus still have the group\ninterest strong, and the feuds of the mountaineers in some of the border\nstates illustrate family solidarity.\n\n[7] \"In all the tribes with whom we are acquainted all the terms\ncoincide without any exception in the recognition of relationships, all\nof which are dependent on the existence of a classificatory system, the\nfundamental idea of which is that the women of certain groups marry the\nmen of others. Each tribe has one term applied indiscriminately to the\nman or woman whom he actually marries and to all whom he might lawfully\nmarry, that is, who belong to the right group: One term to his actual\nmother and to all the women whom his father might lawfully have\nmarried.\"--SPENCER and GILLEN, _Native Tribes of Central Australia_, p.\n57.\n\n[8] The fact that primitive man is at once an individual and a member of\na group--that he has as it were two personalities or selves, an\nindividual self and a clan-self, or \"tribal-self,\" as Clifford called\nit,--is not merely a psychologist's way of stating things. The Kafir\npeople, according to their most recent student, Mr. Dudley Kidd, have\ntwo distinct words to express these two selves. They call one the\n_idhlozi_ and other the _itongo_. \"The _idhlozi_ is the individual and\npersonal spirit born with each child--something fresh and unique which\nis never shared with any one else--while the _itongo_ is the ancestral\nand corporate spirit which is not personal but tribal, or a thing of the\nclan, the possession of which is obtained not by birth but by certain\ninitiatory rites. The _idhlozi_ is personal and inalienable, for it is\nwrapped up with the man's personality, and at death it lives near the\ngrave, or goes into the snake or totem of the clan; but the _itongo_ is\nof the clan, and haunts the living-hut; at death it returns to the\ntribal _amatongo_ (ancestral spirits). A man's share in this clan-spirit\n(_itongo_) is lost when he becomes a Christian, or when he is in any way\nunfaithful to the interests of the clan, but a man never loses his\n_idhlozi_ any more than he ever loses his individuality.\"--_Savage\nChildhood_, pp. 14 f.\n\n[9] Hearn, _The Aryan Household_, p. 212.\n\n[10] MacLennan, _Studies in Ancient History_, p. 381.\n\n[11] Robertson Smith, _Kinship and Marriage in Early Arabia_, p. 23.\n\n[12] Cited from the Gwentian Code. Seebohm, _The Tribal System in\nWales_, p. 104.\n\n[13] E.g., certain joint responsibilities of husband and wife.\n\n[14] Seebohm, _The Tribal System in Wales_, pp. 103 f.\n\n[15] \"From the earliest times, religion, as distinct from magic or\nsorcery, addresses itself to kindred and friendly beings, who may indeed\nbe angry with their people for a time, but are always placable except to\nthe enemies of their worshippers or to renegade members of the\ncommunity. It is not with a vague fear of unknown powers, but with a\nloving reverence for known gods who are knit to their worshippers by\nstrong bonds of kinship, that religion in the only true sense of the\nword begins.\"--ROBERTSON SMITH, _Religion of the Semites_, p. 54.\n\n[16] Schurtz, _Altersklassen und Maennerbuende_.\n\n[17] _Oedipus at Colonus_, vv. 186 f.\n\n[18] Dudley Kidd, _Savage Childhood_, pp. 74 f.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE RATIONALIZING AND SOCIALIZING AGENCIES IN EARLY SOCIETY\n\n\nSec. 1. THREE LEVELS OF CONDUCT\n\nA young man may enter a profession thinking of it only as a means of\nsupport. But the work requires foresight and persistence; it broadens\nhis interests; it develops his character. Like Saul, he has gone to\nsearch for asses, he has found a kingdom. Or he may marry on the basis\nof emotional attraction. But the sympathies evoked, the cooperation made\nnecessary, are refining and enlarging his life. Both these cases\nillustrate agencies which are moral in their results, although not\ncarried on from a consciously moral purpose.\n\nSuppose, however, that children are born into the family. Then the\nparent consciously sets about controlling their conduct, and in\nexercising authority almost inevitably feels the need of some standard\nother than caprice or selfishness. Suppose that in business the partners\ndiffer as to their shares in the profits, then the question of fairness\nis raised; and if one partner defaults, the question of guilt. Or\nsuppose the business encounters a law which forbids certain operations,\nthe problem of justice will come to consciousness. Such situations as\nthese are evidently in the moral sphere in a sense in which those of the\npreceding paragraph are not. They demand some kind of judgment, some\napproval or disapproval. As Aristotle says, it is not enough to do the\nacts; it is necessary to do them in a certain way,--not merely to get\nthe result, but to intend it. The result must be thought of as in some\nsense good or right; its opposite as in some sense bad or wrong.\n\nBut notice that the judgments in these cases may follow either of two\nmethods: (1) The parent or business man may teach his child, or practice\nin business, what tradition or the accepted standard calls for; or (2)\nhe may consider and examine the principles and motives involved. Action\nby the first method is undoubtedly moral, in one sense. It is judging\naccording to a standard, though it takes the standard for granted.\nAction by the second method is moral in a more complete sense. It\nexamines the standard as well. The one is the method of \"customary\"\nmorality, the other that of reflective morality, or of conscience in the\nproper sense.\n\n=The Three Levels and Their Motives.=--We may distinguish then three\nlevels of conduct.\n\n1. Conduct arising from instincts and fundamental needs. To satisfy\nthese needs certain conduct is necessary, and this in itself involves\nways of acting which are more or less rational and social. The conduct\nmay be _in accordance with_ moral laws, though not directed by moral\njudgments. We consider this level in the present chapter.\n\n2. Conduct regulated by _standards of society_, for some more or less\nconscious end involving the social welfare. The level of custom, which\nis treated in Chapter IV.\n\n3. Conduct regulated by a standard which is both social and rational,\nwhich is examined and criticized. The level of conscience. Progress\ntoward this level is outlined in Chapters V. to VIII.\n\nThe motives in these levels will show a similar scale. In (1) the\nmotives are external to the end gained. The man seeks food, or position,\nor glory, or sex gratification; he is forced to practice sobriety,\nindustry, courage, gentleness. In (2) the motive is to seek some good\nwhich is social, but the man acts for the group mainly because he is\n_of_ the group, and does not conceive his own good as distinct from\nthat of the group. His acts are only in part guided by intelligence;\nthey are in part due to habit or accident. (3) In full morality a man\nnot only intends his acts definitely, he also values them as what he can\ndo \"with all his heart.\" He does them _because_ they are right and good.\nHe chooses them freely and intelligently. Our study of moral development\nwill consider successively these three levels. They all exist in present\nmorality. Only the first two are found in savage life. If (1) existed\nalone it was before the group life, which is our starting-point in this\nstudy. We return now to our consideration of group life, and note the\nactual forces which are at work. We wish to discover the process by\nwhich the first and second levels prepare the way for the third.\n\n=The Necessary Activities of Existence Start the Process.=--The prime\nnecessities, if the individual is to survive, are for food, shelter,\ndefense against enemies. If the stock is to survive, there must be also\nreproduction and parental care. Further, it is an advantage in the\nstruggle if the individual can master and acquire, can outstrip rivals,\nand can join forces with others of his kind for common ends. To satisfy\nthese needs we find men in group life engaged in work, in war or blood\nfeuds, in games and festal activities, in parental care. They are\ngetting food and booty, making tools and houses, conquering or enslaving\ntheir enemies, protecting the young, winning trophies, and finding\nemotional excitement in contests, dances, and songs. These all help in\nthe struggle for existence. But the workmen, warriors, singers, parents,\nare getting more. They are forming certain elements of character which,\nif not necessarily moral in themselves, are yet indispensable requisites\nfor full morality. We may say therefore that nature is doing this part\nof moral evolution, without the aid of conscious intention on man's\npart. To use the terms of Chapter I., we may call this a rationalizing\nand socializing process, though not a conscious moral process. We notice\nsome of the more important agencies that are operative.\n\n\nSec. 2. RATIONALIZING AGENCIES\n\n=1. Work.=--The earlier forms of occupation, hunting and fishing, call\nfor active intelligence, although the activity is sustained to a great\ndegree by the immediate interest or thrill of excitement, which makes\nthem a recreation to the civilized man. Quickness of perception,\nalertness of mind and body, and in some cases, physical daring, are the\nqualities most needed. But in the pastoral life, and still more with the\nbeginning of agriculture and commerce, the man who succeeds must have\nforesight and continuity of purpose. He must control impulse by reason.\nHe must organize those habits which are the basis of character, instead\nof yielding to the attractions of various pleasures which might lead him\nfrom the main purpose. To a certain extent the primitive communism acted\nto prevent the individual from feeling the full force of improvidence.\nEven if he does not secure a supply of game, or have a large enough\nflock to provide for the necessities of himself and his immediate\nfamily, the group does not necessarily permit him to starve. The law\n\"Whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap\" does not press upon\nhim with such relentless grasp as in the modern individualistic struggle\nfor existence. Nevertheless it would be an entirely mistaken view of\nprimitive group life to suppose that it is entirely a lazy man's\nparadise, or happy-go-lucky existence. The varying economic conditions\nare important here as measuring the amount of forethought and care\nrequired. It is the shepherd Jacob whose craft outwits Esau the hunter;\nand while the sympathy of the modern may be with Esau, he must remember\nthat forethought like other valuable weapons may be used in a social as\nwell as a selfish fashion. The early Greek appreciation of craft is\nprobably expressed in their deification of theft and deception in\nHermes. Agriculture and commerce, still more than preceding types of\noccupation, demand thoughtfulness and the long look ahead.\n\nThe _differentiation of labor_ has been a powerful influence for\nincreasing the range of mental life and stimulating its development. If\nall do the same thing, all are much alike, and inevitably remain on a\nlow level. But when the needs of men induce different kinds of work,\nslumbering capacities are aroused and new ones are called into being.\nThe most deeply-rooted differentiation of labor is that between the\nsexes. The woman performs the work within or near the dwelling, the man\nhunts or tends the flocks or ranges abroad. This probably tends to\naccentuate further certain organic differences. Among the men, group\nlife in its simplest phases has little differentiation except \"for\ncounsel\" or \"for war.\" But with metal working and agricultural life the\nfield widens. At first the specializing is largely by families rather\nthan by individual choice. Castes of workmen may take the place of mere\nkinship ties. Later on the rules of caste in turn become a hindrance to\nindividuality and must be broken down if the individual is to emerge to\nfull self-direction.\n\n=2. The Arts and Crafts.=--Aside from their influence as work, the arts\nand crafts have a distinctly elevating and refining effect. The\ntextiles, pottery, and skilfully made tools and weapons; the huts or\nhouses when artistically constructed; the so-called free or fine arts of\ndance and music, of color and design--all have this common element: they\ngive some visible or audible embodiment for order or form. The artist or\ncraftsman must make definite his idea in order to work it out in cloth\nor clay, in wood or stone, in dance or song. When thus embodied, it is\npreserved, at least for a time. It is part of the daily environment of\nthe society. Those who see or hear are having constantly suggested to\nthem ideas and values which bring more meaning into life and elevate its\ninterests. Moreover, the order, the rational plan or arrangement which\nis embodied in all well-wrought objects, as well as in the fine arts in\nthe narrow sense, deserves emphasis. Plato and Schiller have seen in\nthis a valuable preparation for morality. To govern action by law is\nmoral, but it is too much to expect this of the savage and the child as\na conscious principle where the law opposes impulse. In art as in play\nthere is direct interest and pleasure in the act, but in art there is\nalso order or law. In conforming to this order the savage, or the child,\nis in training for the more conscious control where the law, instead of\nfavoring, may thwart or oppose impulse and desire.\n\n=3. War.=--War and the contests in games were serving to work out\ncharacteristics which received also a definite social reenforcement:\nnamely, courage and efficiency, a sense of power, a consciousness of\nachievement. All these, like craft, may be used for unmoral or even\nimmoral ends, but they are also highly important as factors in an\neffective moral personality.\n\n\nSec. 3. SOCIALIZING AGENCIES\n\n=Cooperation and Mutual Aid.=[19]--Aside from their effects in promoting\nintelligence, courage, and ideality of life, industry, art, and war have\na common factor by which they all contribute powerfully to the social\nbasis of morality. They all require cooperation. They are socializing as\nwell as rationalizing agencies. Mutual aid is the foundation of\nsuccess. \"Woe to him who stands alone, e'en though his platter be never\nso full,\" runs the Slav proverb. \"He that belongs to no community is\nlike unto one without a hand.\" Those clans or groups which can work\ntogether, and fight together, are stronger in the struggle against\nnature and other men. The common activities of art have value in making\nthis community of action more possible. Cooperation implies a common\nend. It means that each is interested in the success of all. This common\nend forms then a controlling rule of action, and the mutual interest\nmeans sympathy. Cooperation is therefore one of nature's most effective\nagencies for a social standard and a social feeling.\n\n=1. Cooperation in Industry.=--In industry, while there was not in\nprimitive life the extensive exchange of goods which expresses the\ninterdependence of modern men, there was yet much concerted work, and\nthere was a great degree of community of property. In groups which lived\nby hunting or fishing, for instance, although certain kinds of game\nmight be pursued by the individual hunter, the great buffalo and deer\nhunts were organized by the tribe as a whole. \"A hunting bonfire was\nkindled every morning at daybreak at which each brave must appear and\nreport. The man who failed to do this before the party set out on the\nday's hunt was harassed by ridicule.\"[20] Salmon fishery was also\nconducted as a joint undertaking. Large game in Africa is hunted in a\nsimilar fashion, and the product of the chase is not for the individual\nbut for the group. In the pastoral life the care of the flocks and herds\nnecessitates at least some sort of cooperation to protect these flocks\nfrom the attacks of wild beasts and from the more dreaded forays of\nhuman robbers. This requires a considerable body of men, and the\njourneying about in company, the sharing together of watch and ward, the\ncommon interest in the increase of flocks and herds, continually\nstrengthens the bonds between the dwellers in tents.\n\nIn the agricultural stage there are still certain forces at work which\npromote the family or tribal unity, although here we begin to find the\nforces which make for individuality at work until they result in\nindividual ownership and individual property. Just as at the pastoral\nstage, so in this, the cattle and the growing grain must be protected\nfrom attacks by man and beast. It is only the group which can afford\nsuch protection, and accordingly we find the Lowland farmer always at\nthe mercy of the Highland clan.\n\n=2. Cooperation in War.=--War and the blood feud, however divisive\nbetween groups, were none the less potent as uniting factors within the\nseveral groups. The members must not only unite or be wiped out, when\nthe actual contest was on, but the whole scheme of mutual help in\ndefense or in avenging injuries and insults made constant demand upon\nfellow feeling, and sacrifice for the good of all. To gain more land for\nthe group, to acquire booty for the group, to revenge a slight done to\nsome member of the group, were constant causes for war. Now although any\nindividual might be the gainer, yet the chances were that he would\nhimself suffer even though the group should win. In the case of blood\nrevenge particularly, most of the group were not individually\ninterested. Their resentment was a \"sympathetic resentment,\" and one\nauthor has regarded this as perhaps the most fundamental of the sources\nof moral emotion. It was because the tribal blood had been shed, or the\nwomen of the clan insulted, that the group as a whole reacted, and in\nthe clash of battle with opposing groups, was closer knit together.\n\n  \"Ally thyself with whom thou wilt in peace, yet know\n  In war must every man be foe who is not kin.\"\n\n\"Comrades in arms\" by the very act of fighting together have a common\ncause, and by the mutual help and protection given and received become,\nfor the time at least, one in will and one in heart. Ulysses counsels\nAgamemnon to marshal his Greeks, clan by clan and \"brotherhood (phratry)\nby brotherhood,\" that thus brother may support and stimulate brother\nmore effectively; but the effect is reciprocal, and it is indeed very\nprobable that the unity of blood which is believed to be the tie binding\ntogether the members of the group, is often an afterthought or pious\nfiction designed to account for the unity which was really due\noriginally to the stress of common struggle.\n\n=3. Art as Socializing Agency.=--Cooperation and sympathy are fostered\nby the activities of art. Some of these activities are spontaneous, but\nmost of them serve some definite social end and are frequently organized\nfor the definite purpose of increasing the unity and sympathy of the\ngroup. The hunting dance or the war dance represents, in dramatic form,\nall the processes of the hunt or fight, but it would be a mistake to\nsuppose that this takes place purely for dramatic purposes. The dance\nand celebration after the chase or battle may give to the whole tribe\nthe opportunity to repeat in vivid imagination the triumphs of the\nsuccessful hunter or warrior, and thus to feel the thrill of victory and\nexult in common over the fallen prey. The dance which takes place before\nthe event is designed to give magical power to the hunter or warrior.\nEvery detail is performed with the most exact care and the whole tribe\nis thus enabled to share in the work of preparation.\n\nIn the act of song the same uniting force is present. To sing with\nanother involves a contagious sympathy, in perhaps a higher degree than\nis the case with any other art. There is, in the first place, as in the\ndance, a unity of rhythm. Rhythm is based upon cooperation and, in turn,\nimmensely strengthens the possibility of cooperation. In the\nbas-reliefs upon the Egyptian monuments representing the work of a large\nnumber of men who are moving a stone, we find the sculptured figure of a\nman who is beating the time for the combined efforts. Whether all rhythm\nhas come from the necessities of common action or whether it has a\nphysiological basis sufficient to account for the effect which rhythmic\naction produces, in any case when a company of people begin to work or\ndance or sing in rhythmic movement, their efficiency and their pleasure\nare immensely increased. In addition to the effect of rhythm we have\nalso in the case of song the effect of unity of pitch and of melody, and\nthe members of the tribe or clan, like those who to-day sing the\nMarseillaise or chant the great anthems of the church, feel in the\nstrongest degree their mutual sympathy and support. For this reason, the\nCorroborees of the Australian, the sacred festivals of Israel, the\nMysteries and public festivals of the Greeks, in short, among all\npeoples, the common gatherings of the tribe for patriotic or religious\npurposes, have been attended with dance and song. In many cases these\ncarry the members on to a pitch of enthusiasm where they are ready to\ndie for the common cause.\n\nMelodic and rhythmic sound is a unifying force simply by reason of form,\nand some of the simpler songs seem to have little else to commend them,\nbut at very early periods there is not merely the song but the recital,\nin more or less rhythmic or literary form, of the history of the tribe\nand the deeds of the ancestors. This adds still another to the unifying\nforces of the dance and song. The kindred group, as they hear the\nrecital, live over together the history of the group, thrill with pride\nat its glories, suffer at its defeats; every member feels that the\nclan's history is his history and the clan's blood his blood.\n\n\nSec. 4. FAMILY LIFE AS AN IDEALIZING AND SOCIALIZING AGENCY\n\nFamily life, so far as it is merely on the basis of instinct, takes its\nplace with other agencies favored by natural selection which make for\nmore rational and social existence. Various instincts are more or less\nat work. The sex instinct brings the man and the woman together. The\ninstinct of jealousy, and the property or possessing instinct, may\nfoster exclusive and permanent relations. The parental instinct and\naffection bind the parents together and thus contribute to the formation\nof the social group described in the preceding chapter. Considering now\nthe more immediate relations of husband and wife, parents and children,\nrather than the more general group relations, we call attention to some\nof the most obvious aspects, leaving fuller treatment for Part III. The\nidealizing influences of the sex instinct, when this is subject to the\ngeneral influences found in group life, is familiar. Lyric song is a\nhigher form of its manifestation, but even a mute lover may be\nstimulated to fine thoughts or brave deeds. Courtship further implies an\nadaptation, an effort to please, which is a strong socializing force. If\n\"all the world loves a lover,\" it must be because the lover is on the\nwhole a likable role. But other forces come in. Sex love is intense, but\nso far as it is purely instinctive it may be transitory. Family life\nneeded more permanence than sex attraction could provide, and before the\npowerful sanctions of religion, society, and morals were sufficient to\nsecure permanence, it is probable that the property interest of the\nhusband was largely effective in building up a family life, requiring\nfidelity to the married relation on the part of the wife.\n\nBut the most far-reaching of the forces at work in the family has been\nthe parental instinct and affection with its consequences upon both\nparents and children. It contributes probably more than any other\nnaturally selected agency to the development of the race in sympathy; it\nshares with work in the development of responsibility. It is indeed one\nof the great incentives to industry throughout the higher species of\nanimals as well as in human life. The value of parental care in the\nstruggle for existence is impressively presented by Sutherland.[21]\nWhereas the fishes which exercise no care for their eggs preserve their\nspecies only by producing these in enormous numbers, certain species\nwhich care for them maintain their existence by producing relatively\nfew. Many species produce hundreds of thousands or even millions of\neggs. The stickleback, which constructs a nest and guards the young for\na few days, is one of the most numerous of fishes, but it lays only from\ntwenty to ninety eggs. Birds and mammals with increased parental care\nproduce few young. Not only is parental care a valuable asset, it is an\nabsolute necessity for the production of the higher species. \"In the\nfierce competition of the animated forms of earth, the loftier type,\nwith its prolonged nervous growth, and consequently augmented period of\nhelplessness, can never arise but with concomitant increases of parental\ncare.\" Only as the emotional tendency has kept pace with the nerve\ndevelopment has the human race been possible. The very refinements in\nthe organism which make the adult a victor would render the infant a\nvictim if it were without an abundance of loving assistance.[22]\n\nWhether, as has been supposed by some, the parental care has also been\nthe most effective force in keeping the parents together through a\nlengthened infancy, or whether other factors have been more effective in\nthis particular, there is no need to enlarge upon the wide-reaching\nmoral values of parental affection. It is the atmosphere in which the\nchild begins his experience. So far as any environment can affect him,\nthis is a constant influence for sympathy and kindness. And upon the\nparents themselves its transforming power, in making life serious, in\novercoming selfishness, in projecting thought and hope on into the\nfuture, cannot be measured. The moral order and progress of the world\nmight conceivably spare some of the agencies which man has devised; it\ncould not spare this.\n\n\nSec. 5. MORAL INTERPRETATION OF THIS FIRST LEVEL\n\nOn this first level we are evidently dealing with forces and conduct,\nnot as moral in purpose, but as valuable in result. They make a more\nrational, ideal, and social life, and this is the necessary basis for\nmore conscious control and valuation of conduct. The forces are\nbiological or sociological or psychological. They are not that\nparticular kind of psychological activities which we call moral in the\nproper sense, for this implies not only getting a good result but aiming\nat it. Some of the activities, such as those of song and dance, or the\nsimpler acts of maternal care, have a large instinctive element. We\ncannot call these moral in _so far as_ they are purely instinctive.\nOthers imply a large amount of intelligence, as, for example, the\noperations of agriculture and the various crafts. These have purpose,\nsuch as to satisfy hunger, or to forge a weapon against an enemy. But\nthe end is one set up by our physical or instinctive nature. So long as\nthis is merely _accepted_ as an end, and not compared with others,\nvalued, and _chosen_, it is not properly moral.\n\nThe same is true of emotions. There are certain emotions on the\ninstinctive level. Such are parental love in its most elemental form,\nsympathy as mere contagious feeling, anger, or resentment. So far as\nthese are at this lowest level, so far as they signify simply a bodily\nthrill, they have no claim to proper moral value. They are tremendously\nimportant as the source from which strong motive forces of benevolence,\nintelligent parental care, and an ardent energy against evil may draw\nwarmth and fire.\n\nFinally, even the cooperation, the mutual aid, which men give, so far as\nit is called out purely by common danger, or common advantage, is not in\nthe moral sphere in so far as it is instinctive, or merely give and\ntake. To be genuinely moral there must be some thought of the danger as\ntouching others and _therefore_ requiring our aid; of the advantage as\nbeing common and _therefore_ enlisting our help.\n\nBut even although these processes are not consciously moral they are\nnevertheless fundamental. The activities necessary for existence, and\nthe emotions so intimately bound up with them, are the \"cosmic roots\" of\nthe moral life. And often in the higher stages of culture, when the\ncodes and instruction of morality and society fail to secure right\nconduct, these elementary agencies of work, cooperation, and family life\nassert their power. Society and morality take up the direction of the\nprocess and carry it further, but they must always rely largely on these\nprimary activities to afford the basis for intelligent, reliable, and\nsympathetic conduct.\n\n\nLITERATURE\n\nBagehot, _Physics and Politics_, 1890; Buecher, _Industrial Evolution_,\nEng. tr., 1901, _Arbeit und Rythmus_, 3rd ed., 1901; Schurtz,\n_Urgeschichte der Kultur_, 1900; Fiske, _Cosmic Philosophy_, Vol. II.,\n_The Cosmic Roots of Love and Self-sacrifice_ in Through Nature to God,\n1899; Dewey, _Interpretation of the Savage Mind_, Psychological Review,\nVol. IX., 1892, pp. 217-230; Durkheim, _De la Division du Travail\nSocial_, 1893; P. Kropotkin, _Mutual Aid, a Factor in Evolution_, 1902;\nROSS, _Foundations of Society_, 1905, Chap. VII.; Baldwin, Article\n_Socionomic Forces_ in his Dictionary of Philosophy and Psychology;\nGiddings, _Inductive Sociology_, 1901; Small, _General Sociology_, 1906;\nTarde, _Les Lois de l'Imitation_, 1895; W. I. Thomas, _Sex and Society_,\n1907, pp. 55-172; Gummere, _The Beginnings of Poetry_, 1901; Hirn, _The\nOrigin of Art_, 1900.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[19] P. Kropotkin, _Mutual Aid a Factor in Evolution_; Bagehot, _Physics\nand Politics_.\n\n[20] Eastman, _Indian Boyhood_.\n\n[21] _The Origin and Growth of the Moral Instinct_, Chs. II.-V.\n\n[22] _Ibid._, p. 99.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nGROUP MORALITY--CUSTOMS OR MORES\n\n\nWe have seen how the natural forces of instinct lead to activities which\nelevate men and knit them together. We consider next the means which\nsociety uses for these purposes, and the kind of conduct which goes\nalong with the early forms of society's agencies. The organization of\nearly society is that of group life, and so far as the individual is\nmerged in the group the type of conduct may be called \"group morality.\"\nInasmuch as the agencies by which the group controls its members are\nlargely those of custom, the morality may be called also \"customary\nmorality.\" Such conduct is what we called at the opening of the previous\nchapter \"the second level.\" It is \"ethical\" or \"moral\" in the sense of\nconforming to the _ethos_ or _mores_ of the group.\n\n\nSec. 1. MEANING, AUTHORITY, AND ORIGIN OF CUSTOMS\n\n=Meaning of Customs or Mores.=--Wherever we find groups of men living as\noutlined in Chapter II., we find that there are certain ways of acting\nwhich are common to the group--\"folkways.\" Some of these may be due\nmerely to the fact that the members are born of the same stock, just as\nall ducks swim. But a large part of human conduct, in savage as truly as\nin civilized life, is not merely instinctive. There are _approved_ ways\nof acting, common to a group, and handed down from generation to\ngeneration. Such approved ways of doing and acting are customs, or to\nuse the Latin term, which Professor Sumner thinks brings out more\nclearly this factor of approval, they are _mores_.[23] They are\nhabits--but they are more. They imply the judgment of the group that\nthey are to be followed. The welfare of the group is regarded as in some\nsense imbedded in them. If any one acts contrary to them he is made to\nfeel the group's disapproval. The young are carefully trained to observe\nthem. At times of special importance, they are rehearsed with special\nsolemnity.\n\n=Authority Behind the Mores.=--The old men, or the priests, or medicine\nmen, or chiefs, or old women, may be the especial guardians of these\ncustoms. They may modify details, or add new customs, or invent\nexplanations for old ones. But the authority back of them is the group\nin the full sense. Not the group composed merely of visible and living\nmembers, but the larger group which includes the dead, and the kindred\ntotemic or ancestral gods. Nor is it the group considered as a\ncollection of individual persons. It is rather in a vague way the whole\nmental and social world. The fact that most of the customs have no known\ndate or origin makes them seem a part of the nature of things. Indeed\nthere is more than a mere analogy between the primitive regard for\ncustom and that respect for \"Nature\" which from the Stoics to Spencer\nhas sought a moral standard in living \"according to nature.\" And there\nis this much in favor of taking the world of custom as the standard: the\nbeings of this system are like the person who is expected to behave like\nthem; its rules are the ways in which his own kin have lived and\nprospered, and not primarily the laws of cosmic forces, plants, and\nanimals.\n\n=Origin of Customs; Luck.=--The origin of customs is to be sought in\nseveral concurrent factors. There are in the first place the activities\ninduced by the great primitive needs and instincts. Some ways of acting\nsucceed; some fail. Man not only establishes habits of acting in the\nsuccessful ways; he remembers his failures. He hands successful ways\ndown with his approval; he condemns those that fail.\n\nThis attitude is reenforced by the views about good luck and bad luck.\nPrimitive man--and civilized man--is not ruled by a purely rational\ntheory of success and failure. \"One might use the best known means with\nthe greatest care, yet fail of the result. On the other hand, one might\nget a great result with no effort at all. One might also incur a\ncalamity without any fault of his own.\"[24] \"Grimm gives more than a\nthousand ancient German apothegms, dicta, and proverbs about\n'luck.'\"[25] Both good and bad fortune are attributed to the unseen\npowers, hence a case of bad luck is not thought of as a mere chance. If\nthe ship that sailed Friday meets a storm, or one of thirteen falls\nsick, the inference is that this is sure to happen again. And at this\npoint the conception of the group welfare as bound up with the acts of\nevery member, comes in to make individual conformity a matter for group\nconcern--to make conduct a matter of mores and not merely a private\naffair. One most important, if not the most important, object of early\nlegislation was the enforcement of lucky rites to prevent the individual\nfrom doing what might bring ill luck on all the tribe. For the\nconception always was that the ill luck does not attach itself simply to\nthe doer, but may fall upon any member of the group. \"The act of one\nmember is conceived to make all the tribe impious, to offend its\nparticular god, to expose all the tribe to penalties from heaven. When\nthe street statues of Hermes were mutilated, all the Athenians were\nfrightened and furious; they thought they should all be ruined because\nsome one had mutilated a god's image and so offended him.\"[26] \"The\nchildren were reproved for cutting and burning embers, on the ground\nthat this might be the cause for the accidental cutting of some member\nof the family.\"[27] In the third place, besides these sources of custom,\nin the usefulness or lucky character of certain acts, there is also the\nmore immediate reaction of individuals or groups to certain ways of\nacting according \"as things jump with the feelings or displease\nthem.\"[28] An act of daring is applauded, whether useful or not. The\nindividual judgment is caught up, repeated, and plays its part in the\nformation of group opinion. \"Individual impulse and social tradition are\nthus the two poles between which we move.\" Or there may even be a more\nconscious discussion analogous to the action of legislatures or\nphilosophic discussion. The old men among the Australians deliberate\ncarefully as to each step of the initiation ceremonies. They make\ncustoms to be handed down.\n\n\nSec. 2. MEANS OF ENFORCING CUSTOMS\n\nThe most general means for enforcing customs are public opinion, taboos,\nritual or ceremony, and physical force.\n\n=Public Approval= uses both language and form to express its judgments.\nIts praise is likely to be emphasized by some form of art. The songs\nthat greet the returning victor, the decorations, costumes, and tattoos\nfor those who are honored, serve to voice the general sentiment. On the\nother hand ridicule or contempt is a sufficient penalty to enforce\ncompliance with many customs that may be personally irksome. It is very\nlargely the ridicule of the men's house which enforces certain customs\namong the men of peoples which have that institution. It is the ridicule\nor scorn of both men and women which forbids the Indian to marry before\nhe has proved his manhood by some notable deed of prowess in war or\nchase.\n\n=Taboos.=--Taboos are perhaps not so much a means for enforcing custom,\nas they are themselves customs invested with peculiar and awful\nsanction. They prohibit or ban any contact with certain persons or\nobjects under penalty of danger from unseen beings. Any events supposed\nto indicate the activity of spirits, such as birth and death, are likely\nto be sanctified by taboos. The danger is contagious; if a Polynesian\nchief is taboo, the ordinary man fears even to touch his footprints. But\nthe taboos are not all based on mere dread of the unseen.\n\n    \"They include such acts as have been found by experience to\n    produce unwelcome results.--The primitive taboos correspond to the\n    fact that the life of man is environed by perils: His food quest\n    must be limited by shunning poisonous plants. His appetite must be\n    restrained from excess. His physical strength and health must be\n    guarded from dangers. The taboos carry on the accumulated wisdom\n    of generations which has almost always been purchased by pain,\n    loss, disease, and death. Other taboos contain inhibitions of what\n    will be injurious to the group. The laws about the sexes, about\n    property, about war, and about ghosts, have this character. They\n    always include some social philosophy.\" (SUMNER, _Folkways_, pp.\n    33 f.)\n\nThey may be used with conscious purpose. In order to have a supply of\ncocoanuts for a religious festival the head men may place a taboo upon\nthe young cocoanuts to prevent them from being consumed before they are\nfully ripe. The conception works in certain respects to supply the\npurpose which is later subserved by ideas of property. But it serves\nalso as a powerful agency to maintain respect for the authority of the\ngroup.\n\n=Ritual.=--As taboo is the great negative guardian of customs, ritual is\nthe great positive agent. It works by forming habits, and operates\nthrough associations formed by actually doing certain acts, usually\nunder conditions which appeal to the emotions. The charm of music and\nof orderly movement, the impressiveness of ordered masses in\nprocessions, the awe of mystery, all contribute to stamp in the meaning\nand value. Praise or blame encourages or inhibits; ritual secures the\nactual doing and at the same time gives a value to the doing. It is\nemployed by civilized peoples more in the case of military or athletic\ndrill, or in training children to observe forms of etiquette, so that\nthese may become \"second nature.\" Certain religious bodies also use its\nagency. But in primitive life it is widely and effectively used to\ninsure for educational, political, and domestic customs obedience to the\ngroup standards, which among us it secures to the codes of the army, or\nto those of social etiquette. Examples of its elaborate and impressive\nuse will be given below under educational ceremonies.\n\n=Physical Force.=--When neither group opinion, nor taboo, nor ritual\nsecures conformity, there is always in the background physical force.\nThe chiefs are generally men of strength whose word may not be lightly\ndisregarded. Sometimes, as among the Sioux, the older braves constitute\na sort of police. Between different clans the blood feud is the accepted\nmethod of enforcing custom, unless a substitute, the wergeld, is\nprovided. For homicide within a clan the remaining members may drive the\nslayer out, and whoever meets such a Cain may slay him. If a man\nmurdered his chief of kindred among the ancient Welsh he was banished\nand \"it was required of every one of every sex and age within hearing of\nthe horn to follow that exile and to keep up the barking of dogs, to the\ntime of his putting to sea, until he shall have passed three score hours\nout of sight.\"[29] It should be borne in mind, however, that physical\npains, either actual or dreaded, would go but a little way toward\nmaintaining authority in any such group as we have regarded as typical.\nAbsolutism, with all its cruel methods of enforcing terror, needs a more\nhighly organized system. In primitive groups the great majority support\nthe authority of the group as a matter of course, and uphold it as a\nsacred duty when it is challenged. Physical coercion is not the rule but\nthe exception.\n\n\nSec. 3. CONDITIONS WHICH BRING OUT THE IMPORTANCE OF GROUP STANDARDS AND\nRENDER GROUP CONTROL CONSCIOUS\n\nAlthough customs or mores have in them an element of social approval\nwhich makes them vehicles of moral judgment, they tend in many cases to\nsink to the level of mere habits. The reason--such as it was--for their\noriginal force--is forgotten. They become, like many of our forms of\netiquette, mere conventions. There are, however, certain conditions\nwhich center attention upon their importance and lift them to the level\nof conscious agencies. These conditions may be grouped under three\nheads. (1) The education of the younger, immature members of the group\nand their preparation for full membership. (2) The constraint and\nrestraint of refractory members and the adjustment of conflicting\ninterests. (3) Occasions which involve some notable danger or crisis and\ntherefore call for the greatest attention to secure the favor of the\ngods and avert disaster.\n\n=1. Educational Customs.=--Among the most striking and significant of\nthese are the initiation ceremonies which are so widely observed among\nprimitive peoples. They are held with the purpose of inducting boys into\nthe privileges of manhood and into the full life of the group. They are\ncalculated at every step to impress upon the initiate his own ignorance\nand helplessness in contrast with the wisdom and power of the group; and\nas the mystery with which they are conducted imposes reverence for the\nelders and the authorities of the group, so the recital of the\ntraditions and performances of the tribe, the long series of ritual\nacts, common participation in the mystic dance and song and decorations,\nserve to reenforce the ties that bind the tribe.\n\nInitiation into the full privileges of manhood among the tribes of\nCentral Australia, for instance, includes three sets of ceremonies which\noccupy weeks, and even months, for their completion. The first set,\ncalled \"throwing up in the air,\" is performed for the boy when he has\nreached the age of from ten to twelve. In connection with being thrown\nup in the air by certain prescribed members of his tribe, he is\ndecorated with various totem emblems and afterward the septum of his\nnose is bored for the insertion of the nose-bone. At a period some three\nor four years later a larger and more formidable series of ceremonies is\nundertaken, lasting for ten days. A screen of bushes is built, behind\nwhich the boy is kept during the whole period, unless he is brought out\non the ceremonial ground to witness some performance. During this whole\nperiod of ten days, he is forbidden to speak except in answer to\nquestions. He is decorated with various totem emblems, for which every\ndetail is prescribed by the council of the tribal fathers and tribal\nelder brothers. He is charged to obey every command and never to tell\nany woman or boy what he may see. The sense that something out of the\nordinary is to happen to him helps to impress him strongly with a\nfeeling of the deep importance of compliance with the tribal rules, and\nfurther still, with a strong sense of the superiority of the older men\nwho know and are familiar with the mysterious rites of which he is about\nto learn the meaning for the first time. At intervals he watches\nsymbolic performances of men decorated like various totem animals, who\nrepresent the doings of the animal ancestors of the clan; he hears\nmysterious sounds of the so-called bull-roarers, which are supposed by\nthe women and uninitiated to be due to unseen spirits; and the whole\nends with the operation which symbolizes his induction into young\nmanhood. But even this is not all; when the young man has reached the\nage of discretion, when it is felt that he can fully comprehend the\ntraditions of the tribe, at the age of from twenty to twenty-five, a\nstill more impressive series of ceremonies is conducted, which in the\ninstance reported lasted from September to January. This period was\nfilled up with dances, \"corroborees,\" and inspection of the churinga or\nsacred emblems--stones or sticks which were supposed to be the dwellings\nof ancestral spirits and which are carefully preserved in the tribe,\nguarded from the sight of women and boys, but known individually to the\nelders as the sacred dwelling-place of father or grandfather. As these\nwere shown and passed around, great solemnity was manifest and the\nrelatives sometimes wept at the sight of the sacred object. Ceremonies\nimitating various totem animals, frequently of the most elaborate sort,\nwere also performed. The young men were told the traditions of the past\nhistory of the tribe, and at the close of the recital they felt added\nreverence for the old men who had been their instructors, a sense of\npride in the possession of this mysterious knowledge, and a deeper unity\nbecause of what they now have in common. One is at a loss whether to\nwonder most at the possibility of the whole tribe devoting itself for\nthree months to these elaborate functions of initiation, or at the\nmarvelous adaptability of such ceremonies to train the young into an\nattitude of docility and reverence. A tribe that can enforce such a\nprocess is not likely to be wanting in one side, at least, of the moral\nconsciousness, namely, reverence for authority and regard for the social\nwelfare.[30]\n\n=2. Law and Justice.=--The occasions for some control over refractory\nmembers will constantly arise, even though the conflict between group\nand individual may need no physical sanctions to enforce the authority\nof the group over its members. The economic motive frequently prompts an\nindividual to leave the tribe or the joint family. There was a constant\ntendency, Eastman states, among his people, when on a hunting expedition\nin the enemy's country, to break up into smaller parties to obtain food\nmore easily and freely. The police did all they could to keep in check\nthose parties who were intent on stealing away. Another illustration of\nthe same tendency is stated by Maine with reference to the joint\nfamilies of the South Slavonians:\n\n    \"The adventurous and energetic member of the brotherhood is always\n    rebelling against its natural communism. He goes abroad and makes\n    his fortune, and as strenuously resists the demands of his\n    relatives to bring it into the common account. Or perhaps he\n    thinks that his share of the common stock would be more profitably\n    employed by him as capital in a mercantile venture. In either case\n    he becomes a dissatisfied member or a declared enemy of the\n    brotherhood.\"[31]\n\nOr covetousness might lead to violation of the ban, as with Achan. Sex\nimpulse may lead a man to seek for his wife a woman not in the lawful\ngroup. Or, as one of the most dangerous offenses possible, a member of\nthe group may be supposed to practice witchcraft. This is to use\ninvisible powers in a selfish manner, and has been feared and punished\nby almost all peoples.\n\nIn all these cases it is of course no abstract theory of crime which\nleads the community to react; it is self-preservation. The tribe must be\nkept together for protection against enemies. Achan's sin is felt to be\nthe cause of defeat. The violation of sex taboos may ruin the clan. The\nsorcerer may cause disease, or inflict torture and death, or bring a\npestilence or famine upon the whole group. None the less all such cases\nbring to consciousness one aspect of moral authority, the social\ncontrol over the individual.\n\nAnd it is a _social_ control--not an exercise of brute force or a mere\nterrorizing by ghosts. For the chief or judge generally wins his\nauthority by his powerful service to his tribesmen. A Gideon or Barak or\nEhud or Jephthah judged Israel because he had delivered them. \"Three\nthings, if possessed by a man, make him fit to be a chief of kindred:\nThat he should speak on behalf of his kin and be listened to, that he\nshould fight on behalf of his kin and be feared, and that he should be\nsecurity on behalf of his kin and be accepted.\"[32] If, as is often the\ncase, the king or judge or chief regards himself as acting by divine\nright, the authority is still _within the group_. It is the group\njudging itself.\n\nIn its _standards_ this primitive court is naturally on the level of\ncustomary morality, of which it is an agent. There is usually neither\nthe conception of a general principle of justice (our Common Law), nor\nof a positive law enacted as the express will of the people. At first\nthe judge or ruler may not act by any fixed law except that of upholding\nthe customs. Each decision is then a special case. A step in advance is\nfound when the heads or elders or priests of the tribe decide cases, not\nindependently of all others, but in accordance with certain precedents\nor customs. A legal tradition is thus established, which, however\nimperfect, is likely to be more impartial than the arbitrary caprice of\nthe moment, influenced as such special decisions are likely to be by the\nrank or power of the parties concerned.[33] A law of precedents or\ntradition is thus the normal method at this level. The progress toward a\nmore rational standard belongs under the next chapter, but it is\ninteresting to note that even at an early age the myths show a\nconception of a divine judge who is righteous, and a divine judgment\nwhich is ideal. Rhadamanthus is an embodiment of the demand for justice\nwhich human collisions and decisions awakened.\n\nThe conscious authority of the group is also evoked in the case of feuds\nor disputes between its members. The case of the blood feud, indeed,\nmight well be treated as belonging under war and international law\nrather than as a case of private conflict. For so far as the members of\nthe victim's clan are concerned, it is a case of war. It is a patriotic\nduty of every kinsman to avenge the shed blood. The groups concerned\nwere smaller than modern nations which go to war for similar reasons,\nbut the principle is the same. The chief difference in favor of modern\ninternational wars is that since the groups are larger they do not fight\nso often and require a more serious consideration of the possibility of\npeaceable adjustment. Orestes and Hamlet feel it a sacred duty to avenge\ntheir fathers' murders.\n\nBut the case is not simply that of clan against clan. For the smaller\ngroup of kin, who are bound to avenge, are nearly always part of a\nlarger group. And the larger group may at once recognize the duty of\nvengeance and also the need of keeping it within bounds, or of\nsubstituting other practices. The larger group may see in the murder a\npollution, dangerous to all;[34] the blood which \"cries from the\nground\"[35] renders the ground \"unclean\" and the curse of gods or the\nspirits of the dead may work woe upon the whole region. But an unending\nblood feud is likewise an evil. And if the injured kin can be appeased\nby less than blood in return, so much the better. Hence the wergeld, or\nindemnity, a custom which persisted among the Irish until late, and\nseemed to the English judges a scandalous procedure.\n\nFor lesser offenses a sort of regulated duel is sometimes allowed. For\nexample, among the Australians the incident is related of the treatment\nof a man who had eloped with his neighbor's wife. When the recreant\nparties returned the old men considered what should be done, and finally\narranged the following penalty. The offender stood and called out to the\ninjured husband, \"I stole your woman; come and growl.\" The husband then\nproceeded to throw a spear at him from a distance, and afterwards to\nattack him with a knife, although he did not attempt to wound him in a\nvital part. The offender was allowed to evade injury, though not to\nresent the attack. Finally the old men said, \"Enough.\" A curious form of\nprivate agencies for securing justice is also found in the Japanese\ncustom of hara-kiri, according to which an injured man kills himself\nbefore the door of his offender, in order that he may bring public odium\nupon the man who has injured him. An Indian custom of Dharna is of\nsimilar significance, though less violent. The creditor fasts before the\ndoor of the debtor until he either is paid, or dies of starvation. It\nmay be that he thinks that his double or spirit will haunt the cruel\ndebtor who has thus permitted him to starve to death, but it also has\nthe effect of bringing public opinion to bear.\n\nIn all these cases of kindred feuds there is little personal\nresponsibility, and likewise little distinction between the accidental\nand intentional. These facts are brought out in the opening quotations\nin Chapter II. The important thing for the student to observe is that\nlike our present practices in international affairs they show a _grade_\nof morality, a limited social unity, whether it is called kinship\nfeeling or patriotism; complete morality is not possible so long as\nthere is no complete way of settling disputes by justice instead of\nforce.[36]\n\n=3. Occasions Which Involve Some Special Danger or Crisis.=--Such\noccasions call for the greatest attention to secure success or avoid\ndisaster. Under this head we note as typical (a) the occasions of birth,\nmarriage, death; (b) seed time and harvest, or other seasons important\nfor the maintenance of the group; (c) war; (d) hospitality.\n\n=(a) Birth and Death Customs.=--The entrance of a new life into the\nworld and the disappearance of the animating breath (_spiritus_,\n_anima_, _psyche_), might well impress man with the mysteries of his\nworld. Whether the newborn infant is regarded as a reincarnation of an\nancestral spirit as with the Australians, or as a new creation from the\nspirit world as with the Kafirs, it is a time of danger. The mother must\nbe \"purified,\"[37] the child, and in some cases the father, must be\ncarefully guarded. The elaborate customs show the group judgment of the\nimportance of the occasion. And the rites for the dead are yet more\nimpressive. For as a rule the savage has no thought of an entire\nextinction of the person. The dead lives on in some mode, shadowy and\nvague, perhaps, but he is still potent, still a member of the group,\npresent at the tomb or the hearth. The preparation of the body for\nburial or other disposition, the ceremonies of interment or of the pyre,\nthe wailing, and mourning costumes, the provision of food and weapons,\nor of the favorite horse or wife, to be with the dead in the unseen\nworld, the perpetual homage paid--all these are eloquent. The event, as\noften as it occurs, appeals by both sympathy and awe to the common\nfeeling, and brings to consciousness the unity of the group and the\ncontrol exercised by its judgments.\n\nThe regulations for marriage are scarcely less important; indeed, they\nare often seemingly the most important of the customs. The phrases\n\"marriage by capture\" and \"marriage by purchase,\" are quite misleading\nif they give the impression that in early culture any man may have any\nwoman. It is an almost universal part of the clan system that the man\nmust marry out of his own clan or totem (exogamy), and it is frequently\nspecified exactly into what other clan he must marry. Among some the\nregulations are minute as to which of the age classes, as well as to\nwhich of the kin groups, a man of specific group must choose from. The\ncourtship may follow different rules from ours, and the relation of the\nsexes in certain respects may seem so loose as to shock the student, but\nthe regulation is in many respects stricter than with us, and punishment\nof its violation often severer. There can be no doubt of the meaning of\nthe control, however mistaken some of its features. Whether the\nregulations for exogamy, which provide so effectually for avoiding\nincest, are reinforced by an instinctive element of aversion to sex\nrelations with intimates, is uncertain; in any case, they are enforced\nby the strongest taboos. Nor does primitive society stop with the\nnegative side. The actual marriage is invested with the social values\nand religious sanctions which raise the relation to a higher level. Art,\nin garments and ornament, in dance and epithalamium, lends ideal values.\nThe sacred meal at the encircled hearth secures the participation of the\nkindred gods.\n\n=(b) Certain Days or Seasons Important for the Industrial Life.=--Seed\ntime and harvest, the winter and summer solstices, the return of spring,\nare of the highest importance to agricultural and pastoral peoples, and\nare widely observed with solemn rites. Where the rain is the center of\nanxiety, a whole ritual may arise in connection with it, as among the\nZuni Indians. Ceremonies lasting days, involving the preparation of\nspecial symbols of clouds and lightning, and the participation of\nnumerous secret fraternities, constrain the attention of all. Moreover,\nthis constraint of need, working through the conception of what the\ngods require, enforces some very positive moral attitudes:\n\n    \"A Zuni must speak with one tongue (sincerely) in order to have\n    his prayers received by the gods, and unless his prayers are\n    accepted no rains will come, which means starvation. He must be\n    gentle, and he must speak and act with kindness to all, for the\n    gods care not for those whose lips speak harshly. He must observe\n    continence four days previous to, and four days following, the\n    sending of breath prayers through the spiritual essence of plume\n    offerings, and thus their passions are brought under control.\"\n    (MRS. M. C. STEVENSON in 23d Report, _Bureau of Ethnology_.)\n\nPhases of the moon give other sacred days. Sabbaths which originally are\nnegative--the forbidding of labor--may become later the bearers of\npositive social and spiritual value. In any case, all these festivals\nbring the group authority to consciousness, and by their ritual promote\nthe intimate group sympathy and consciousness of a common end.\n\n=(c) War.=--War as a special crisis always brings out the significance\nand importance of certain customs. The deliberations, the magic, the war\npaint which precede, the obedience compelled by it to chiefs, the\nextraordinary powers exercised by the chief or heads at such crises, the\nsense of danger which strains the attention, all insure attention. No\ncarelessness is permitted. Defeat is interpreted as a symbol of divine\nanger because of a violated law or custom. Victory brings all together\nto celebrate the glory of the clan and to mourn in common the warriors\nslain in the common cause. Excellence here may be so conspicuous in its\nservice, or in the admiration it calls out, as to become a general term\nfor what the group approves. So the _aret[=e]_ of the Greeks became\ntheir general term, and the Latin _virtus_, if not so clearly military,\nwas yet largely military in its early coloring. The \"spirit of Jehovah,\"\nthe symbol of divine approval and so of group approval, was believed to\nbe with Samson and Jephthah in their deeds of prowess in Israel's\nbehalf.\n\n=(d) Hospitality.=--To the modern man who travels without fear and\nreceives guests as a matter of almost daily practice, it may seem\nstrained to include hospitality along with unusual or critical events.\nBut the ceremonies observed and the importance attached to its rites,\nshow that hospitality was a matter of great significance; its customs\nwere among the most sacred.\n\n    \"But as for us,\" says Ulysses to the Cyclops, \"we have lighted\n    here, and come to these thy knees, if perchance they will give us\n    a stranger's gift, or make any present, as is the due of\n    strangers. Nay, lord, have regard to the gods, for we are thy\n    suppliants, and Zeus is the avenger of suppliants and sojourners,\n    Zeus, the god of the stranger, who fareth in the company of\n    reverend strangers.\"\n\nThe duty of hospitality is one of the most widely recognized.\nWestermarck has brought together a series of maxims from a great variety\nof races which show this forcibly.[38] Indians, Kalmucks, Greeks,\nRomans, Teutons, Arabs, Africans, Ainos, and other peoples are drawn\nupon and tell the same story. The stranger is to be respected sacredly.\nHis person must be guarded from insult even if the honor of the daughter\nof the house must be sacrificed.[39] \"Jehovah preserveth the\nsojourners,\" and they are grouped with the fatherless and the widow in\nIsrael's law.[40] The Romans had their _dii hospitales_ and the \"duties\ntoward a guest were even more stringent than those toward a\nrelative\"--_primum tutelae_, _delude hospiti_, _deinde clienti_, _tum\ncognato_, _postea affini_.[41] \"He who has a spark of caution in him,\"\nsays Plato, \"will do his best to pass through life without sinning\nagainst the stranger.\" And there is no doubt that this sanctity of the\nguest's person was not due to pure kindness. The whole conduct of group\nlife is opposed to a general spirit of consideration for those outside.\nThe word \"guest\" is akin to _hostis_, from which comes \"hostile.\" The\nstranger or the guest was looked upon rather as a being who was\nspecially potent. He was a \"live wire.\" He might be a medium of\nblessing, or he might be a medium of hurt. But it was highly important\nto fail in no duty toward him. The definite possibility of entertaining\nangels unawares might not be always present to consciousness, but there\nseems reason to believe that the possibility of good luck or bad luck as\nattending on a visitor was generally believed in. It is also plausible\nthat the importance attached to sharing a meal, or to bodily contact, is\nbased on magical ideas of the way in which blessing or curse may be\ncommunicated. To cross a threshold or touch a tent-rope or to eat\n\"salt,\" gives a sacred claim. In the right of asylum, the refugee takes\nadvantage of his contact with the god. He lays hold of the altar and\nassumes that the god will protect him. The whole practice of hospitality\nis thus the converse of the custom of blood revenge. They are alike\nsacred--or rather the duty of hospitality may protect even the man whom\nthe host is bound to pursue. But, whereas the one makes for group\nsolidarity by acts of exclusive and hostile character, the other tends\nto set aside temporarily the division between the \"we-group\" and the\n\"others-group.\" Under the sanction of religion it keeps open a way of\ncommunication which trade and other social interchange will widen. It\nadds to family and the men's house a powerful agency in maintaining at\nleast the possibility of humaneness and sympathy.\n\n\nSec. 4. VALUES AND DEFECTS OF CUSTOMARY MORALITY\n\nThese have been suggested, in the main, in the description of the nature\nof custom and its regulation of conduct. We may, however, summarize\nthem as a preparation for the next stage of morality.\n\n=1. The Forming of Standards.=--There is a standard, a \"good,\" a\n\"right,\" which is to some degree rational and to some degree social. We\nhave seen that custom rests in part on rational conceptions of welfare.\nIt is really nothing against this that a large element of luck enters\ninto the idea of welfare. For this means merely that the actual\nconditions of welfare are not understood. The next generation may be\nable to point out as equally absurd our present ignorance about health\nand disease. The members of the group embodied in custom what they\nthought to be important; they were approving some acts and forbidding or\ncondemning others; they were using the elders, and the wisdom of all the\npast, in order to govern life. So far, then, they were acting morally.\nThey were also, to a degree, using a rational and social standard when\nthey made custom binding on all, and conceived its origin as immemorial.\nWhen further they conceived it as approved by the gods, they gave it all\nthe value they knew how to put into it.\n\nThe standards and valuations of custom are, however, only partly\nrational. Many customs are irrational; some are injurious. But in them\nall the habitual is a large, if not the largest, factor. And this is\noften strong enough to resist any attempt at rational testing. Dr.\nArthur Smith tells us of the advantage it would be in certain parts of\nChina to build a door on the south side of the house in order to get the\nbreeze in hot weather. The simple and sufficient answer to such a\nsuggestion is, \"We don't build doors on the south side.\"\n\nAn additional weakness in the character of such irrational, or partly\nrational standards, is the misplaced energy they involve. What is merely\ntrivial is made as important and impressive as what has real\nsignificance. Tithing mint, anise, and cummin is quite likely to\ninvolve neglect of the weightier matters of the law. Moral life\nrequires men to estimate the value of acts. If the irrelevant or the\npetty is made important, it not only prevents a high level of value for\nthe really important act, it loads up conduct with burdens which keep it\nback; it introduces elements which must be got rid of later, often with\nheavy loss of what is genuinely valuable. When there are so many ways of\noffending the gods and when these turn so often upon mere observance of\nroutine or formula, it may require much subsequent time and energy to\nmake amends. The morals get an expiatory character.\n\n=2. The Motives.=--In the motives to which it appeals, custom is able to\nmake a far better showing than earlier writers, like Herbert Spencer,\ngave it credit for. It doubtless employs fear in its taboos; it\ndoubtless enlists the passion of resentment in its blood feuds. Even\nthese are modified by a social environment. For the fear of violating a\ntaboo is in part the fear of bringing bad luck on the whole group, and\nnot merely on the violator. We have, therefore, a quasi-social fear, not\na purely instinctive reaction. The same is true in perhaps a stronger\ndegree of the resentments. The blood revenge is in a majority of cases\nnot a personal but a group affair. It is undertaken at personal risk and\nfor others' interest--or rather for a common interest. The resentment is\nthus a \"_sympathetic resentment_.\"[42] Regarded as a mere reaction for\nself-preservation this instinctive-emotional process is unmoral. As a\nmere desire to produce pain it would be immoral. But so far as it\nimplies an attitude of reacting from a general point of view and to aid\nothers, it is moral. Aside from the passions of fear and resentment,\nhowever, there is a wide range of motives enlisted. Filial and parental\naffection, some degree of affection between the sexes over and above sex\npassion, respect for the aged and the beings who embody ideals however\ncrude, loyalty to fellow clansmen,--all these are not only fostered but\nactually secured by the primitive group. But the motives which imply\nreflection--reverence for duty as the imperious law of a larger life,\nsincere love of what is good for its own sake--cannot be brought to full\nconsciousness until there is a more definite conception of a moral\nauthority, a more definite contrast between the one great good and the\npartial or temporary satisfactions. The development of these conceptions\nrequires a growth in individuality; it requires conflicts between\nauthority and liberty, and those collisions between private interests\nand the public welfare which a higher civilization affords.\n\n=3. The Content.=--When we consider the \"what\" of group and customary\nmorality we note at once that the factors which make for the idealizing\nand expansion of interests are less in evidence than those which make\nfor a common and social interest and satisfaction. There is indeed, as\nwe have noted, opportunity for memory and fancy. The traditions of the\npast, the myths, the cultus, the folk songs--these keep up a mental life\nwhich is as genuinely valued as the more physical activities. But as the\nmode of life in question does not evoke the more abstractly rational\nactivities--reasoning, selecting, choosing--in the highest degree, the\nideals lack reach and power. It needs the incentives described in the\nfollowing chapters to call out a true life of the spirit. The social\naspects of the \"what,\" on the other hand, are well rooted in group\nmorality. It is unnecessary to repeat what has been dwelt upon in the\npresent and preceding chapters so fully. We point out now that while the\nstandard is social, it is unconsciously rather than consciously social.\nOr perhaps better: it is a standard of society but not a standard which\neach member deliberately makes his own. He takes it as a matter of\ncourse. He is in the clan, \"with the gang\"; he thinks and acts\naccordingly. He cannot begin to be as selfish as a modern\nindividualist; he simply hasn't the imagery to conceive such an\nexclusive good, nor the tools with which to carry it out. But he cannot\nbe as broadly social either. He may not be able to sink so low as the\ncivilized miser, or debauchee, or criminal, but neither can he conceive\nor build up the character which implies facing opposition. The moral\nhero achieves full stature only when he pits himself against others,\nwhen he recognizes evil and fights it, when he \"overcomes the world.\"\n\n=4. Organization of Character.=--In the organization of stable character\nthe morality of custom is strong on one side. The group trains its\nmembers to act in the ways it approves and afterwards holds them by all\nthe agencies in its power. It forms habits and enforces them. Its\nweakness is that the element of habit is so large, that of freedom so\nsmall. It holds up the average man; it holds back the man who might\nforge ahead. It is an anchor, and a drag.\n\n\nLITERATURE\n\nMuch of the literature at the close of Chapters II. and III.,\nparticularly the works of Spencer and Gillen and Schurtz, belongs here\nalso. Schoolcraft, _Indian Tribes_, 1851-57; Eastman, _Indian Boyhood_,\n1902. Papers on various cults of North American Indians in reports of\nthe _Bureau of Ethnology_, by Stevenson, 8th, 1886-87; Dorsey, 11th,\n1889-90; Fewkes, 15th, 1893-94, 21st, 1899-1900; Fletcher, 22nd,\n1900-01; Stevenson, 23d, 1901-02; Kidd, _Savage Childhood_, 1906; _The\nEssential Kaffir_, 1904; Skeat, _Malay Magic_, 1900; N. W. Thomas,\ngeneral editor of Series, _The Native Races of the British Empire_,\n1907-; Barton, _A Sketch of Semitic Origins_, 1902; Harrison,\n_Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion_, 1903; Reinach, _Cultes,\nMythes et Religions_, 2 vols., 1905; Frazer, _The Golden Bough_, 3\nvols., 1900; Marett, _Is Taboo Negative Magic?_ in Anthropological\nEssays, presented to E. B. Tylor, 1907; Crawley, _The Mystic Rose_,\n1902; Spencer, _Sociology_, 1876-96; Clifford, _On the Scientific Basis\nof Morals_ in Lectures and Essays, 1886; Maine, _Early History of\nInstitutions_, 1888; _Early Law and Custom_, 1886; Post, _Die Grundlagen\ndes Rechts und die Grundzuege seiner Entwicklungsgeschichte_, 1884;\n_Ethnologische Jurisprudenz_, 1894-95; Pollock and Maitland, _History of\nEnglish Law_, 1899; Steinmetz, _Ethnologische Studien zur ersten\nEntwicklung der Strafe_, 1894.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[23] W. G. Sumner, _Folkways_.\n\n[24] Sumner, _Folkways_, p. 6.\n\n[25] _Ibid._, p. 11.\n\n[26] Bagehot, _Physics and Politics_, p. 103.\n\n[27] Eastman, _Indian Boyhood_, p. 31.\n\n[28] Hobhouse, _Morals in Evolution_, Part I., p. 16. Hume pointed out\nthis twofold basis of approval.\n\n[29] Seebohm, _The Tribal System of Wales_, p. 59.\n\n[30] The account is based on Spencer and Gillen, _The Native Tribes of\nCentral Australia_, chs. vii.-ix.\n\n[31] Maine's _Early Law and Custom_, p. 264.\n\n[32] _Welsh Triads_, cited by Seebohm, op. cit., p. 72.\n\n[33] Post, _Grundlagen des Rechts_, pp. 45 ff.\n\n[34] Deuteronomy 21:1-9; Numbers 35:33, 34.\n\n[35] Genesis 4:10-12; Job 16:18.\n\n[36] On the subject of early justice Westermarck, _The Origin and\nDevelopment of Moral Ideas_, ch. vii. ff.; Hobhouse, _Morals in\nEvolution_, Part I., ch. ii.; Pollock and Maitland, _History of English\nLaw_.\n\n[37] Leviticus, ch. xii.\n\n[38] \"The Influence of Magic on Social Relationships\" in _Sociological\nPapers_, II., 1905. Cf. also Morgan, _House-life_.\n\n[39] Genesis 19:8; Judges 19:23, 24.\n\n[40] Psalms 146:9; Deuteronomy 24:14-22.\n\n[41] Gellius, in Westermarck, op. cit., p. 155.\n\n[42] Westermarck regards this as one of the fundamental elements in the\nbeginnings of morality.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nFROM CUSTOM TO CONSCIENCE; FROM GROUP MORALITY TO PERSONAL MORALITY\n\n\nSec. 1. CONTRAST AND COLLISION\n\n=1. What the Third Level Means.=--Complete morality is reached only when\nthe individual recognizes the right or chooses the good freely, devotes\nhimself heartily to its fulfillment, and seeks a progressive social\ndevelopment in which every member of society shall share. The group\nmorality with its agencies of custom set up a standard, but one that was\ncorporate rather than personal. It approved and disapproved, that is it\nhad an idea of good, but this did not mean a good that was personally\nvalued. It enlisted its members, but it was by drill, by pleasure and\npain, and by habit, rather than by fully voluntary action. It secured\nsteadiness by habit and social pressure, rather than by choices built\ninto character. It maintained community of feeling and action, but of\nthe unconscious rather than the definitely social type. Finally it was\nrather fitted to maintain a fixed order than to promote and safeguard\nprogress. Advance then must (1) substitute some rational method of\nsetting up standards and forming values, in place of habitual passive\nacceptance; (2) secure voluntary and personal choice and interest,\ninstead of unconscious identification with the group welfare, or\ninstinctive and habitual response to group needs; (3) encourage at the\nsame time individual development and the demand that all shall share in\nthis development--the worth and happiness of the person and of _every_\nperson.\n\n=2. Collisions Involved.=--Such an advance brings to consciousness two\ncollisions. The oppositions were there before, but they were not felt as\noppositions. So long as the man was fully with his group, or satisfied\nwith the custom, he would make no revolt. When the movement begins the\ncollisions are felt. These collisions are:\n\n(1) The collision between the authority and interests of the group, and\nthe independence and private interests of the individual.\n\n(2) The collision between order and progress, between habit and\nreconstruction or reformation.\n\nIt is evident that there is a close connection between these two\ncollisions; in fact, the second becomes in practice a form of the first.\nFor we saw in the last chapter that custom is really backed and enforced\nby the group, and its merely habitual parts are as strongly supported as\nthose parts which have a more rational basis. It would perhaps be\nconceivable that a people should move on all together, working out a\nhigher civilization in which free thought should keep full reverence for\nsocial values, in which political liberty should keep even pace with the\ndevelopment of government, in which self-interest should be accompanied\nby regard for the welfare of others, just as it may be possible for a\nchild to grow into full morality without a period of \"storm and stress.\"\nBut this is not usual. Progress has generally cost struggle. And the\nfirst phase of this struggle is opposition between the individual and\nthe group. The self-assertive instincts and impulses were present in\ngroup life, but they were in part undeveloped because they had not\nenough stimulus to call them out. A man could not develop his impulse\nfor possession to its full extent if there was little or nothing for him\nto possess. In part they were not developed because the group held them\nback, and the conditions of living and fighting favored those groups\nwhich did keep them back. Nevertheless they were present in some\ndegree, always contending against the more social forces. Indeed what\nmakes the opposition between group and individual so strong and so\ncontinuous is that both the social and the individual are rooted in\nhuman nature. They constitute what Kant calls the _unsocial\nsociableness_ of man. \"Man cannot get on with his fellows and he cannot\ndo without them.\"\n\n=Individualism.=--The assertion by the individual of his own opinions\nand beliefs, his own independence and interests, as over against group\nstandards, authority, and interests, is known as individualism. It is\nevident that such assertion will always mark a new level of conduct.\nAction must now be personal and voluntary. It is also evident that it\nmay be either better or worse than the level of custom and group life.\nThe first effect is likely to be, in appearance at least, a change for\nthe worse. The old restraints are tossed aside; \"creeds outworn\" no\nlonger steady or direct; the strong or the crafty individual comes to\nthe fore and exploits his fellows. Every man does what is \"right in his\nown eyes.\" The age of the Sophists in Greece, of the Renaissance in\nItaly, of the Enlightenment and Romantic movement in western Europe, and\nof the industrial revolution in recent times illustrate different phases\nof individualism. A people, as well as an individual, may \"go to pieces\"\nin its reaction against social authority and custom. But such one-sided\nindividualism is almost certain to call out prophets of a new order;\n\"organic filaments\" of new structures appear; family, industry, the\nstate, are organized anew and upon more voluntary basis. Those who\naccept the new conditions and assume responsibility with their freedom,\nwho direct their choices by reason instead of passion, who \"aim at\njustice and kindness\" as well as at happiness, become moral persons and\ngain thereby new worth and dignity. While, then, the general movement is\non the whole a movement of individualism, it demands just as\nnecessarily, if there is to be moral progress, a _reconstructed\nindividual_--a person who is individual in choice, in feeling, in\nresponsibility, and at the same time social in what he regards as good,\nin his sympathies, and in his purposes. Otherwise individualism means\nprogress toward the immoral.\n\n\nSec. 2. SOCIOLOGICAL AGENCIES IN THE TRANSITION\n\nThe agencies which bring about the change from customary and group\nmorality to conscious and personal morality are varied. Just as\ncharacter is developed in the child and young man by various means,\nsometimes by success, sometimes by adversity or loss of a parent,\nsometimes by slow increase in knowledge, and sometimes by a sudden\nright-about-face with a strong emotional basis, so it is with peoples.\nSome, like the Japanese at the present, are brought into sudden contact\nwith the whole set of commercial and military forces from without. Among\nothers, as with the Greeks, a fermentation starts within, along\nintellectual, economic, political, and religious lines. Or again,\nnational calamities may upset all the old values, as with the Hebrews.\nBut we may note four typical agencies which are usually more or less\nactive.\n\n=1. Economic Forces.=--The action of economic forces in breaking up the\nearly kinship group or joint family may be noticed in the history of\nmany peoples. The clan flourishes in such conditions of hunting life or\nof simple agriculture as were found among Australians and Indians, or\namong the Celts in Ireland and the Scottish Highlands. It cannot survive\nwhen a more advanced state of agriculture prevails. A certain amount of\nindividualism will appear wherever the advantage for the individual lies\nin separate industry and private ownership. If buffalo was to be hunted\nit was better to pool issues, but for smaller game the skilful or\npersistent huntsman or shepherd will think he can gain more by working\nfor himself. This is intensified when agriculture and commerce take the\nplace of earlier modes of life. The farmer has to work so hard and long,\nhis goal is so far in the future, that differences of character show\nthemselves much more strongly. Hunting and fishing are so exciting, and\nthe reward is so near, that even a man who is not very industrious will\ndo his part. But in agriculture only the hard and patient worker gets a\nreward and he does not like to share it with the lazy, or even with the\nweaker. Commerce, bargaining, likewise puts a great premium on\nindividual shrewdness. And for a long time commerce was conducted on a\nrelatively individual basis. Caravans of traders journeyed together for\nmutual protection but there was not any such organization as later\nobtained, and each individual could display his own cunning or ability.\nMoreover commerce leads to the comparison of custom, to interchange of\nideas as well as goods. All this tends to break down the sanctity of\ncustoms peculiar to a given group. The trader as well as the guest may\noverstep the barriers set up by kin. The early Greek colonists, among\nwhom a great individualistic movement began, were the traders of their\nday. The parts of Europe where most survives of primitive group life are\nthose little touched by modern commerce.\n\nBut we get a broader view of economic influences if we consider the\nmethods of organizing industry which have successively prevailed. In\nearly society, and likewise in the earlier period of modern\ncivilization, the family was a great economic unit. Many or most of the\nindustries could be advantageously carried on in the household. As in\nthe cases cited above (p. 60) the stronger or adventurous member would\nbe constantly trying to strike out for himself. This process of constant\nreadjustment is, however, far less thoroughgoing in its effects on mores\nthan the three great methods of securing a broader organization of\nindustry. In primitive society large enterprises had to be carried on by\nthe co-operation of the group. Forced labor as used by the Oriental\ncivilizations substituted a method by which greater works like the\npyramids or temples could be built, but it brought with it the overthrow\nof much of the old group sympathies and mutual aid. In Greece and Rome\nslavery did the drudgery and left the citizens free to cultivate art,\nletters, and government. It gave opportunity and scope for the few. Men\nof power and genius arose, and at the same time all the negative forces\nof individualism asserted themselves. In modern times capitalism is the\nmethod for organizing industry and trade. It proves more effective than\nforced labor or slavery in securing combination of forces and in\nexploiting natural resources. It likewise gives extraordinary\nopportunities for the rise of men of organizing genius. The careers of\n\"captains of industry\" are more fascinating than those of old-time\nconquerors because they involve more complex situations, and can utilize\nthe discoveries and labors of more men. But modern capitalism has been\nas destructive to the morality of the Middle Ages, or even of a hundred\nyears ago, as was forced labor or slavery to the group life and mores\nwhich they destroyed.\n\n=2. The Progress of Science and the Arts.=--The effect of the progress\nof science and intelligence upon the mores is direct. Comparisons of the\ncustoms of one people with those of another bring out differences, and\narouse questions as to the reasons for such diversity. And we have seen\nthat there is more or less in the customs for which no reason can be\ngiven. Even if there was one originally it has been forgotten. Or again,\nincreasing knowledge of weather and seasons, of plants and animals, of\nsickness and disease, discredits many of the taboos and ceremonials\nwhich the cruder beliefs had regarded as essential to welfare. Certain\nelements of ritual may survive under the protection of \"mysteries,\" but\nthe more enlightened portion of the community keeps aloof. Instead of\nthe mores with their large infusion of the accidental, the habitual,\nand the impulsive, increasing intelligence demands some rational rule of\nlife.\n\nAnd science joins with the various industrial and fine arts to create a\nnew set of interests for the individual. Any good piece of workmanship,\nany work of art however simple, is twice blest. It blesses him that\nmakes and him that uses or enjoys. The division of labor, begun in group\nlife, is carried further. Craftsmen and artists develop increasing\nindividuality as they construct temples or palaces, fashion statues or\npottery, or sing of gods and heroes. Their minds grow with what they do.\nSide by side with the aspect of art which makes it a bond of society is\nthe aspect which so frequently makes the skilled workman the critic, and\nthe artist a law to himself. In the next place note the effect on those\nwho can use and enjoy the products of the arts. A new world of\nsatisfaction and happiness is opened which each person can enter for\nhimself. In cruder conditions there was not much out of which to build\nup happiness. Food, labor, rest, the thrill of hunt or contest, the\npassion of sex, the pride in children--these made up the interests of\nprimitive life. Further means of enjoyment were found chiefly in society\nof the kin, or in the men's house. But as the arts advanced the\nindividual could have made for him a fine house and elaborate clothing.\nMetal, wood, and clay minister to increasing wants. A permanent and\nstately tomb makes the future more definite. The ability to hand down\nwealth in durable form places a premium on its acquirement. Ambition has\nmore stuff to work with. A more definite, assertive self is gradually\nbuilt up. \"Good\" comes to have added meaning with every new want that\nawakes. The individual is not satisfied any longer to take the group's\nvaluation. He wants to get his own good in his own way. And it will\noften seem to him that he can get his own good most easily and surely\neither by keeping out of the common life or by using his fellow men to\nhis own advantage. Men of culture have frequently shown their\nselfishness in the first way; men of wealth in the second. An\naristocracy of culture, or birth, or wealth may come to regard the whole\nprocess of civilization as properly ministering to the wants of the\nselect few. Nearly every people which has developed the arts and\nsciences has developed also an aristocracy. In the ancient world slavery\nwas a part of the process. In modern times other forms of exploitation\nmay serve the purpose better. Individualism, released from the ties\nwhich bound up the good of one with the good of all, tends to become\nexclusive and selfish; civilization with all its opportunities for\nincreasing happiness and increasing life has its moral risks and\nindirectly, at least, its moral evils.\n\nThese evils may appear as the gratification of sense and appetite and\nthus may be opposed to the higher life of the spirit, which needs no\nouter objects or luxuries. Or they may appear as rooted in selfishness,\nin the desire for gratifying the exclusive self of material interests or\nambition, as over against sympathy, justice, and kindness, which mark a\nbroadly human and social life. In both cases serious men have sought to\novercome by some form of \"self-denial\" the evils that attend on\ncivilization, even if they are not due to it.\n\n=3. Military Forces.=--The kinship group is a protection so long as it\nhas to contend only with similar groups. The headlong valor and tribal\nloyalty of German or Scottish clans may even win conflicts with more\ndisciplined troops of Rome or England. But permanent success demands\nhigher organization than the old clans and tribes permitted.\nOrganization means authority, and a single directing, controlling\ncommander or king. As Egypt, Assyria, Phoenicia show their strength\nthe clans of Israel cry, \"Nay, but we will have a king over us; that we\nmay also be like all the nations; and that our king may judge us, and go\nout before us, and fight our battles.\"[43] Wars afford the opportunity\nfor the strong and unscrupulous leader to assert himself. Like commerce\nthey may tend also to spread culture and thus break down barriers of\nancient custom. The conquests of Babylon and Alexander, the Crusades and\nthe French Revolution, are instances of the power of military forces to\ndestroy old customs and give individualism new scope. In most cases, it\nis true, it is only the leader or \"tyrant\" who gets the advantage. He\nuses the whole machinery of society for his own elevation. Nevertheless\ncustom and group unity are broken for all. Respect for law must be built\nnew from the foundation.\n\n=4. Religious Forces.=--While in general religion is a conservative\nagency, it is also true that a new religion or a new departure in\nreligion has often exercised a powerful influence on moral development.\nThe very fact that religion is so intimately bound up with all the group\nmores and ideals, makes a change in religion bear directly on old\nstandards of life. The collision between old and new is likely to be\nfundamental and sharp. A conception of God may carry with it a view of\nwhat conduct is pleasing to him. A doctrine as to the future may require\na certain mode of life. A cultus may approve or condemn certain\nrelations between the sexes. Conflicting religions may then force a\nmoral attitude in weighing their claims. The contests between Jehovah\nand Baal, between Orphic cults and the public Greek religion, between\nJudaism and Christianity, Christianity and Roman civilization,\nChristianity and Germanic religion, Catholicism and Protestantism, have\nbrought out moral issues. We shall notice this factor especially in\nChapters VI. and VIII.\n\n\nSec. 3. THE PSYCHOLOGICAL AGENCIES\n\nThe psychological forces which tend toward individualism have been\nalready stated to be the self-assertive instincts and impulses. They are\nall variations of the effort of the living being first to preserve\nitself and then to rise to more complicated life by entering into more\ncomplex relations and mastering its environment. Spinoza's \"_sui esse\nconservare_,\" Schopenhauer's \"will to live,\" Nietzsche's \"will to\npower,\" the Hebrew's passionate ideal of \"life\", and Tennyson's \"More\nlife, and fuller\" express in varying degree the meaning of this\nelemental bent and process. Growing intelligence adds to its strength by\ngiving greater capacity to control. Starting with organic needs, this\ndeveloping life process may find satisfactions in the physical world in\nthe increasing power and mastery over nature gained by the explorer or\nthe hunter, the discoverer, the craftsman, or the artist. It is when it\nenters the world of persons that it displays a peculiar intensity that\nmarks the passions of individualism _par excellence_. We note four of\nthese tendencies toward self-assertion.\n\n=1. Sex.=--The sex instinct and emotion occupies a peculiar position in\nthis respect. On the one hand it is a powerful socializing agency. It\nbrings the sexes together and is thus fundamental to the family. But on\nthe other hand it is constantly rebelling against the limits and\nconventions established by the social group for its regulation. The\nstatutes against illicit relations, from the codes of Hammurabi and\nMoses to the latest efforts for stricter divorce, attest the collision\nbetween the individual's inclination and the will of the group.\nRepeatedly some passion of sex has broken over all social, legal, and\nreligious sanctions. It has thus been a favorite theme of tragedy from\nthe Greeks to Ibsen. It finds another fitting medium in the romance. It\nhas called into existence and maintains in every large city an outcast\ncolony of wretched creatures, and the evils which attend are not limited\nin their results to those who knowingly take the risks. It has worked\nrepeated changes in the structure of the family authorized by society.\nIts value and proper regulation were points at issue in that\nwide-reaching change of mores attendant upon the Reformation, and\napparently equilibrium has not yet been reached.\n\n=2. The Demand for Possession and Private Property.=--In the primitive\ngroup we have seen that there might be private property in tools or\nweapons, in cattle or slaves. There was little private property in land\nunder the maternal clan; and indeed in any case, so long as the arts\nwere undeveloped, private property had necessary limits. The demand for\nprivate property is a natural attendant upon individual modes of\nindustry. As we have said, it was a common principle that what the group\nproduced was owned by the group, and what the individual made or\ncaptured was treated as his. When individual industry came to count for\nmore, the individual claimed more and more as private possession.\n\nThe change from the maternal clan to the paternal family or household\nwas a reenforcement to the individual control of property. The father\ncould hand down his cattle or his house to his son. The joint family of\nIndia is indeed a type of a paternal system. Nevertheless the tendency\nis much stronger to insist on individual property where the father's\ngoods pass to his son than where they go to his sister's children.\n\nThe chiefs or rulers were likely to gain the right of private property\nfirst. Among certain families of the South Slavs to-day, the head has\nhis individual eating utensils, the rest share. Among many people the\nchiefs have cattle which they can dispose of as they will; the rest have\nsimply their share of the kin's goods. The old Brehon laws of Ireland\nshow this stage.\n\nBut however it comes about, the very meaning of property is, in the\nfirst place, exclusion of others from some thing which I have. It is\ntherefore in so far necessarily opposed to group unity, opposed to any\nsuch simple solidarity of life as we find in group morality. As the\nAmerican Indian accepts land in severalty, the old group life, the\ntribal restraints and supports, the group custom and moral unity that\nwent with it, are gone. He must find a new basis or go to pieces.\n\n=3. Struggles for Mastery or Liberty.=--In most cases these cannot be\nseparated from economic struggles. Masters and slaves were in economic\nas well as personal relations, and nearly all class contests on a large\nscale have had at least one economic root, whatever their other sources.\nBut the economic is not their only root. There have been wars for glory\nor for liberty as well as for territory or booty or slaves. As the\nstruggle for existence has bred into the race the instinct of\nself-defense with its emotion of anger, the instinct to rivalry and\nmastery, and the corresponding aversion to being ruled, so the progress\nof society shows trials of strength between man and man, kin and kin,\ntribe and tribe. And while, as stated in the preceding chapter, the\ncooperation made necessary in war or feud is a uniting force, there is\nanother side to the story. Contests between individuals show who is\nmaster; contests between groups tend to bring forward leaders. And while\nsuch masterful men may serve the group they are quite as likely to find\nan interest in opposing group customs. They assert an independence of\nthe group, or a mastery over it, quite incompatible with the solidarity\nof the kinship clan, although the patriarchal type of household under a\nstrong head may be quite possible. There comes to be one code for rich\nand another for poor, one for Patricians and another for Plebs, one for\nbaron and another for peasant, one for gentry and another for the common\nfolk. For a time this may be accepted patiently. But when once the rich\nbecome arrogant, the feudal lord insolent, the bitter truth is faced\nthat the customs have become mere conventions. They no longer hold. All\nthe old ties are cast off. The demand for freedom and equality rises,\nand the collision between authority and liberty is on.\n\nOr the contest may be for intellectual liberty--for free thought and\nfree speech. It is sometimes considered that such liberty meets its\nstrongest opponent in the religious or ecclesiastical organization.\nThere is no doubt a conservative tendency in religion. As we have\npointed out, religion is the great conservator of group values and group\nstandards. Its ritual is most elaborate, its taboos most sacred.\nIntellectual criticism tends to undermine what is outgrown or merely\nhabitual here as elsewhere. Rationalism or free thought has set itself\nin frequent opposition likewise to what has been claimed to be \"above\nreason.\" Nevertheless it would be absurd to attribute all the\nindividualism to science and all the conservatism to religion.\nScientific dogmas and \"idols\" are hard to displace. Schools are about as\nconservative as churches. And on the other hand the struggle for\nreligious liberty has usually been carried on not by the irreligious but\nby the religious. The prophet Amos found himself opposed by the\nreligious organization of his day when he urged social righteousness,\nand the history of the noble army of martyrs is a record of appeal to\nindividual conscience, or to an immediate personal relation to God, as\nover against the formal, the traditional, the organized religious\ncustoms and doctrines of their age. The struggle for religious\ntoleration and religious liberty takes its place side by side with the\nstruggles for intellectual and political liberty in the chapters of\nindividualism.\n\n=4. The Desire for Honor, or Social Esteem.=--James, in his psychology\nof the self, calls the recognition which a man gets from his mates his\n\"social self.\" \"We are not only gregarious animals, liking to be in\nsight of our fellows, but we have an innate propensity to get ourselves\nnoticed, and noticed favorably by our kind. No more fiendish punishment\ncould be devised, were such a thing physically possible, than that one\nshould be turned loose in society and remain absolutely unnoticed by all\nthe members thereof.\"[44] From such a punishment \"the cruelest bodily\ntortures would be a relief; for this would make us feel that however bad\nmight be our plight, we had not sunk to such depth as to be unworthy of\nattention at all.\"[45] Honor or fame is a name for one of the various\n\"social selves\" which a man may build up. It stands for what those of a\ngiven group may think or say of him. It has a place and a large place in\ngroup life. Precedence, salutations, decorations in costume and bodily\nornament, praises in song for the brave, the strong, the cunning, the\npowerful, with ridicule for the coward or the weakling are all at work.\nBut with the primitive group the difference between men of the group is\nkept within bounds. When more definite organization of groups for\nmilitary or civil purposes begins, when the feudal chief gathers his\nretainers and begins to rise above the rest of the community in\nstrength, finally when the progress of the arts gives greater means for\ndisplay, the desire for recognition has immensely greater scope. It is\nincreased by the instinct of emulation; it often results in envy and\njealousies. It becomes then a powerful factor in stimulating\nindividualism.\n\nBut while desires for honor and fame provoke individualism, they carry\nwith them, like desires for property and power, elements that make for\nreconstruction of the social on a higher level. For honor implies some\ncommon sentiment to which the individual can make appeal. Group members\npraise or blame what accords with their feeling or desire, but they do\nnot act as individuals merely, praising what pleases them as\nindividuals. They react more or less completely from the group point of\nview; they honor the man who embodies the group-ideal of courage, or\nother admirable and respected qualities. And here comes the motive which\noperates to force a better ideal than mere desire of praise. No group\nhonors the man who is definitely seeking merely its applause rather\nthan its approval--at least not after it has found him out. The force of\npublic opinion is therefore calculated to elicit a desire to be _worthy_\nof honor, as well as to be honored. This means a desire to act as a true\nsocial individual, for it is only the true member of the group,--true\nclansman,--true patriot,--true martyr,--who appeals to the other members\nwhen they judge as members, and not selfishly. When now the group whose\napproval is sought is small, we have class standards, with all the\nprovincialism, narrowness, and prejudice that belong to them. As the\nhonor-seeker is merely after the opinion of his class, he is bound to be\nonly partly social. So long as he is with his kin, or his set, or his\n\"gang,\" or his \"party,\" or his \"union,\" or his \"country\"--regardless of\nany wider appeal--he is bound to be imperfectly rational and social in\nhis conduct. The great possibilities of the desire for honor, and of the\ndesire to be worthy of honor, lie then in the constant extension of the\nrange. The martyr, the seeker for truth, the reformer, the neglected\nartist, looks for honor from posterity; if misjudged or neglected, he\nappeals to mankind. He is thus forming for himself an ideal standard.\nAnd if he embodies this ideal standard in a personal, highest possible\njudging companion, his desire to be worthy of approval takes a religious\nform. He seeks \"the honor that is from God.\" Though \"the innermost of\nthe empirical selves of a man is a self of the _social_ sort, it yet can\nfind its only adequate _socius_ in an ideal world.\"[46]\n\nThe moral value of these three forces of individualism was finely stated\nby Kant:\n\n    \"The means which nature uses to bring about the development of all\n    the capacities she has given man is their _antagonism_ in society,\n    in so far as this antagonism becomes in the end a cause of social\n    order. Men have an inclination to _associate_ themselves, for in a\n    social state they feel themselves more completely men: i.e., they\n    are conscious of the development of their natural capacities. But\n    they have also a great propensity to _isolate_ themselves, for\n    they find in themselves at the same time this unsocial\n    characteristic: each wishes to direct everything solely according\n    to his own notion, and hence expects resistance, just as he knows\n    that he is inclined to resist others. It is just this resistance\n    which awakens all man's powers; this brings him to overcome his\n    propensity to indolence, and drives him through the lust for\n    honor, power, or wealth to win for himself a rank among his\n    fellowmen. Man's will is for concord, but nature knows better what\n    is good for the species, and she wills discord. He would like a\n    life of comfort and pleasure; nature wills that he be dragged out\n    of idleness and inactive content, and plunged into labor and\n    trouble in order that he may find out the means of extricating\n    himself from his difficulties. The natural impulses which prompt\n    this effort, the sources of unsociableness and of the mutual\n    conflict from which so many evils spring, are then spurs to a more\n    complete development of man's powers.\"[47]\n\nWe have spoken of the \"forces\" which tend to break down the old unity of\nthe group and bring about new organization. But of course these forces\nare not impersonal. Sometimes they seem to act like the ocean tide,\npushing silently in, and only now and then sending a wave a little\nhigher than its fellows. Frequently, however, some great personality\nstands out preeminent, either as critic of the old or builder of the\nnew. The prophets were stoned because they condemned the present; the\nnext generation was ready to build their sepulchers. Socrates is the\nclassic example of the great man who perishes in seeking to find a\nrational basis to replace that of custom. Indeed, this conflict--on the\none hand, the rigid system of tradition and corporate union hallowed by\nall the sanctions of religion and public opinion; upon the other, the\nindividual making appeal to reason, or to his conscience, or to a\n\"higher law\"--is the tragedy of history.\n\n\nSec. 4. POSITIVE RECONSTRUCTION\n\nIt must not be supposed that the moral process stops at the points\nindicated under the several divisions of this last section. As already\nstated, if the people really works out a higher type of conscious and\npersonal morality, it means not only a more powerful individual, but a\nreconstructed individual and a reconstructed society. It means not only\nthe disintegration of the old kinship or family group, which is an\neconomic, political, and religious unity as well. It means the\nconstruction of a new basis for the family; new moral principles for\nbusiness; a distinct political state with new means for government, new\nconceptions of authority and liberty; finally, a national or universal\nreligion. And the individual must on this higher level choose all these\nvoluntarily. More than this: as he chooses in the presence of the new\nconflicting ends presented by individualism, he sets up or adopts a\nstandard for himself. He thinks definitely of what is \"good\" and\n\"right.\" As he recognizes its claim, he is responsible as well as free.\nAs he identifies himself heartily with it, he becomes sincerely and\ngenuinely moral. Reverence, duty, and love for what is good become the\nquickening emotions. Thoughtfulness, self-control, aspiration toward an\nideal, courageous venturing in its achievement, kindness and justice,\nbecome the dominant temper, or at least are recognized as the temper\nthat should be dominant. The conception of moral character and moral\npersonality is brought to consciousness. The development of the Hebrews\nand Greeks will show how these positive values emerge.\n\n\nLITERATURE\n\n_Kant's Principles of Politics_, tr. by Hastie, 1891, especially the\nessay _The Idea of a Universal Cosmopolitical History_; Hegel,\n_Philosophy of History_, tr. by Sibree, 1881; Darwin, _The Descent of\nMan_, 1871, 1882-87; Schurman, _The Ethical Import of Darwinism_, 1888;\nSeth, _The Evolution of Morality_, Mind, XIV., 1889, pp. 27-49;\nWilliams, _A Review of Systems of Ethics founded on the Theory of\nEvolution_, 1893; Harris, _Moral Evolution_, 1895; Tufts, _On Moral\nEvolution_, in Studies in Philosophy and Psychology (_Garman\nCommemorative Volume_), 1906; Ihering, _Der Kampf ums Recht_; Simcox,\n_Natural Law_, 1877; Sorley, _Ethics of Naturalism_, 1885.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[43] 1 Sam. 8:19, 20.\n\n[44] _Psychology_, Vol. I., ch. x.\n\n[45] _Ibid._, p. 293 f.\n\n[46] James, _Psychology_, I., 316.\n\n[47] _Idea of a Universal Cosmopolitical History._\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nTHE HEBREW MORAL DEVELOPMENT\n\n\nSec. 1. GENERAL CHARACTER AND DETERMINING PRINCIPLES\n\n=1. The Hebrew and the Greek.=--The general character of the Hebrew\nmoral development may be brought out by a contrast with that of the\nGreeks.[48] While many phases are common, there is yet a difference in\nemphasis and focus. There were political and economic forces at work in\nIsrael, and religious forces in Greece. Nevertheless, the moral life in\none people kept close to the religious, and in the other found\nindependent channels. Conscientious conduct for the Hebrew centered in\ndoing the will of God; for the Greek, in finding rational standards of\ngood. For the Hebrew, righteousness was the typical theme; for the\nGreek, the ideal lay rather in measure and harmony. For the Greek,\nwisdom or insight was the chief virtue; for the Hebrew, the fear of the\nLord was the beginning of wisdom. The social ideal of the Hebrews was\nthe kingdom of God; of the Greeks, a political State. If we distinguish\nin conscience two aspects, thoughtfulness in discovering what to do and\nhearty desire to do the right when found, then the Greeks emphasize the\nformer, the Hebrews the latter. Intellect plays a larger part with the\nGreek; emotion and the voluntary aspect of will with the Hebrew. Feeling\nplays its part with the Greeks largely as an aesthetic demand for measure\nand harmony; with the Hebrews it is chiefly prominent in motivation,\nwhere it is an element in what is called \"the heart,\" or it functions\nin appreciation of acts performed, as the joy or sorrow felt when God\napproves or condemns. Both peoples are interesting for our study, not\nonly as illustrating different kinds of moral development, but also as\ncontributing largely to the moral consciousness of western peoples\nto-day.\n\n=2. The Early Morality.=--The accounts of the tribal life and customs in\nthe early period after the settlement in Canaan, show the main features\nof group life which are already familiar to us. Clan or kinship loyalty\nwas strong on both its good and its defective sides. There were\nfidelity, a jeoparding of lives unto death, honor for group heroes,\njoint responsibility, and blood revenge. There were respect for\nhospitality and regulation of marriage, though not according to later\nstandards. A rough measure of justice was recognized in \"as I have done,\nso God hath requited me.\" But there was no public authority to restrain\nthe wrongdoer, except when a particularly revolting brutality shocked\npublic sentiment. Festivals and sacrificial meals united the members of\nthe family or clan more closely to each other and to their god. Vows\nmust be kept inviolable even if they involved human sacrifice. The\ninterests and ends of life were simple. The satisfaction of bodily\nwants, the love of kin and above all of children, the desire to be in\nright relation of favor and harmony with the unseen deity who protected\nfrom enemies and sent fruitful seasons,--these made their chief good.\nThe line of their progress from these rude beginnings to a lofty moral\nideal lay through religion. But the religious conceptions were directly\nrelated to political, social, and economic conditions; hence, both\naspects must be briefly characterized.\n\n=3. Political Development.=--The political development (a) built up a\nnational unity which worked to break down old group units, (b)\nstrengthened military ambition and race pride, (c) stimulated the\nprophets to their highest conceptions of the divine majesty and\nuniversality, but, finally when the national power and hope were\nshattered, (d) compelled the most thoroughgoing reconstruction of all\nthe values, ideals, and meaning of life. It is not possible or necessary\nto trace this process in detail, but we may point out here the general\neffect of the political development in bringing into clearer\nconsciousness the conceptions of authority and law which were important\nfactors in Hebrew morality. The earlier patriarchal head of the clan or\nfamily exercised certain political power, but there was no explicit\nrecognition of this. Government by the \"elders\" or by the heads of the\nhousehold makes no clear distinction between the common kinship and the\npolitical and legal authority of the sovereign. The \"judges,\" whose rule\npreceded the kingdom, were military deliverers who owed their authority\nto personal powers rather than to a definite provision. To establish an\norganized political community, a kingdom, was then to bring into clearer\nrecognition this element of authority which was merely implicit in the\ntribal organization. It allowed a more distinctly voluntary relationship\nto be differentiated from the involuntary relationship of kinship, or\nthe personal relationship of the hero. While, therefore, in the\nformation of the kingdom the earlier prophets saw only a rejection of\nGod, the later prophets saw in it the symbol of a higher type of\nrelation between God and people. It was given religious sanction and the\nking was regarded as the son of Jehovah. It was thus ready to serve as\nthe scheme or setting for the moral unity and order of a people.\n\n=4. The Economic Factors.=--The organization and growing prosperity of\nthe political power were attended by economic and social changes. The\nsimple agricultural life of the early period had not caused entire loss\nof clan organization and customs. But the growth of trade and commerce\nunder Solomon and later kings brought in wealth and shifted the center\nof power and influence from country to city. Wealth and luxury had their\nusual results. Clashing interests asserted their strength. Economic and\nsocial individualism destroyed the old group solidarity. At the times of\nthe prophets Amos, Hosea, Isaiah, there were classes of rich and poor.\nGreed had asserted itself in rulers, judges, priests, and \"regular\"\nprophets. Oppression, land monopoly, bribery, extortion, stirred moral\nindignation. The fact that these were practiced by the most zealous\nobservers of ritual and guardians of religion roused in the great\nreformers a demand for a change in religion itself. Not sacrifices but\njustice is the need of the hour and the demand of God.\n\n\nSec. 2. RELIGIOUS AGENCIES\n\nThe interaction between the religious and the moral education of the\nHebrews was so intimate that it is difficult to distinguish the two, but\nwe may abstract certain conceptions or motives in Israel's religion\nwhich were especially significant. The general conception was that of\nthe close personal relation between god and people. Israel should have\nno other god; Jehovah--at least this was the earlier thought--would have\nno other people. He had loved and chosen Israel; Israel in gratitude, as\nwell as in hope and fear, must love and obey Jehovah. Priests maintained\nhis cultus; prophets brought new commands according to the requirements\nof the hour; the king represented his sovereignty and justice; the\ncourse of events exhibited his purpose. Each of these elements served to\nprovoke or elicit moral reflection or moral conduct.\n\n=1. The \"Covenant\" Relation was a Moral Conception.=--The usual\nreligious conception is that of some blood or kin relation between\npeople and deity. This has the same potential meaning and value as that\nof the other relations of group life outlined in Chapter II. But it is\nrather a natural than a \"moral\"--i.e., conscious and voluntary--tie. To\nconceive of the relation between god and people as due to voluntary\nchoice, is to introduce a powerful agency toward making morality\nconscious. Whatever the origin of the idea, the significant fact is that\nthe religious and moral leaders present the relation of Israel to\nJehovah as based on a covenant. On the one hand, Jehovah protects,\npreserves, and prospers; on the other, Israel is to obey his laws and\nserve no other gods. This conception of mutual obligation is presented\nat the opening of the \"Ten Commandments,\" and to this covenant relation\nthe prophets again and again make appeal. The obligation to obey the law\nis not \"This is the custom,\" or \"Our fathers did so\"; it is placed on\nthe ground that the people has voluntarily accepted Jehovah as its god\nand lawgiver.\n\nThe meaning of this covenant and the symbols by which it was conceived,\nchanged with the advance of the social relationships of the people. At\nfirst Jehovah was \"Lord of Hosts,\" protector in war, and giver of\nprosperity, and the early conceptions of the duty of the people seemed\nto include human sacrifice, at least in extreme cases. But with later\nprophets we find the social and family relationship of husband and\nfather brought increasingly into use. Whether by personal experience or\nby more general reflection, we find Hosea interpreting the relationship\nbetween God and his people in both of these family conceptions. The\ndisloyalty of the people takes on the more intimate taint of a wife's\nunfaithfulness, and, conversely, in contrast to the concepts of other\nreligions, the people may call Jehovah \"my husband\" and no longer \"my\nmaster\" (Baal). The change from status to contract is thus, in Israel's\nreligion, fruitful with many moral results.\n\n=2. The Conception of a Personal Lawgiver.=--The conception of a\npersonal lawgiver raises conduct from the level of custom to the level\nof conscious morality. So long as a child follows certain ways by\nimitation or suggestion, he does not necessarily attach any moral\nmeaning to them. But if the parent expressly commands or prohibits, it\nbecomes a matter of obedience or disobedience. Choice becomes necessary.\nCharacter takes the place of innocence. So Jehovah's law compelled\nobedience or rebellion. Customs were either forbidden or enjoined. In\neither case they ceased to be merely customs. In the law of Israel the\nwhole body of observances in private life, in ceremonial, and in legal\nforms, is introduced with a \"Thus saith the Lord.\" We know that other\nSemitic people observed the Sabbath, practiced circumcision,\ndistinguished clean from unclean beasts, and respected the taboos of\nbirth and death. Whether in Israel all these observances were old\ncustoms given new authority by statute, or were customs taken from other\npeoples under the authority of the laws of Jehovah, is immaterial. The\nethical significance of the law is that these various observances,\ninstead of being treated merely as customs, are regarded as personal\ncommands of a personal deity.\n\nThis makes a vital difference in the view taken of the violation of\nthese observances. When a man violates a custom he fails to do the\ncorrect thing. He misses the mark.[49] But when the observance is a\npersonal command, its violation is a personal disobedience; it is\nrebellion; it is an act of will. The evil which follows is no longer bad\nluck; it is punishment. Now punishment must be either right or wrong,\nmoral or immoral. It can never be merely non-moral. Hence the very\nconception of sin as a personal offense, and of ill as a personal\npunishment, forces a moral standard. In its crudest form this may take\nthe god's commands as right simply because he utters them, and assume\nthat the sufferer is guilty merely because he suffers. We find this in\nthe penitential psalms of the Babylonians. These express the deepest\nconviction of sin and the utmost desire to please the god, but when we\ntry to discover what the penitent has done that wakens such remorse\nwithin him, we find that he seems merely to feel that in some way he has\nfailed to please God, no matter how. He experiences misfortune, whether\nof disease, or ill-luck, or defeat, and is sure that this must be due to\nsome offense. He does not know what this may be. It may have been that\nhe has failed to repeat a formula in the right manner; it is all one. He\nfeels guilty and even exaggerates his own guilt in view of the\npunishment which has befallen him. Job's three friends apply the same\nlogic to his case.[50]\n\nBut side by side with the conception that the laws of Jehovah must be\nobeyed because they were his commands, there was another doctrine which\nwas but an extension of the theory that the people had freely accepted\ntheir ruler. This was that Jehovah's commands were not arbitrary. They\nwere right; they could be placed before the people for their approval;\nthey were \"life\"; \"the judge of all the earth\" would \"do right.\" We have\nhere a striking illustration of the principle that moral standards, at\nfirst embodied in persons, slowly work free, so that persons are judged\nby them.\n\n=3. The Cultus as Morally Symbolical.=--The elaborate cultus carried on\nby the priests, symbolized, however imperfectly, certain moral ideas.\nThe solicitous care for ceremonial \"purity\" might have no direct moral\nvalue; the contamination from contact with birth or death or certain\nanimals might be a very external sort of \"uncleanness.\" Nevertheless,\nthey emphasized in the most forcible manner a constant control over\nconduct by a standard which was set by a divine law. The \"holiness\" of\nthe priests, as set apart to special service of Jehovah, emphasized the\nseriousness of their work; and further, it contributed to that\ndistinction between spiritual and material, between higher and lower,\nwhich is a part of moral life. Moreover, while part of this value\ninheres in all ritual, the contrast between Jehovah's worship and that\nof other deities challenged moral attention. The gods of the land, the\nvarious Baals, were worshipped \"upon every high hill and under every\ngreen tree.\" As gods of fertility, they were symbolized by the emblems\nof sex, and great freedom prevailed at their festivals. At certain\nshrines men and women gave themselves for the service of the god. The\nfirst born children were not infrequently sacrificed.[51] These\nfestivals and shrines seem to have been adopted more or less fully by\nIsrael from the Canaanites, but the prophets have an utterly different\nidea of Jehovah's worship. The god of Sinai rejects utterly such\npractices. License and drunkenness are not, as the cultus of Baal and\nAstarte implied, the proper symbols of life and deity. The sensual\ncannot fitly symbolize the spiritual.\n\nMoreover, one part of the cultus, the \"sin offering,\" directly implied\ntransgression and the need of forgiveness. The \"sins\" might themselves\nbe ceremonial rather than moral, and the method of removing them might\nbe external--especially the process of putting the sins upon a scapegoat\nwhich should \"bear upon him all their iniquities into a solitary\nland,\"--nevertheless, the solemn confession, and the shedding of the\nblood which was the \"life,\" could not but remind of responsibility and\ndeepen reflection. The need of atonement and reconciliation, thus\nimpressed, symbolized the moral process of reconstructing, of putting\naway a lower past, and readjusting life to meet an ideal.\n\n=4. The Prophets as a Moral Force.=--The prophets were by far the most\nsignificant moral agency in Israel's religion. In the first place, they\ncame to the people bearing a message from a living source of authority,\nintended for the immediate situation. They brought a present command for\na present duty. \"Thou art the man,\" of Nathan to David, \"Hast thou\nkilled, and also taken possession?\" of Elijah to Ahab, had personal\noccasions. But the great sermons of Amos, Isaiah, Jeremiah, were no less\nfor the hour. A licentious festival, an Assyrian invasion, an Egyptian\nembassy, a plague of locusts, an impending captivity--these inspire\ndemand for repentance, warnings of destruction, promises of salvation.\nThe prophet was thus the \"living fountain.\" The divine will as coming\nthrough him \"was still, so to speak, fluid, and not congealed into\ninstitutions.\"\n\nIn the second place, the prophets seized upon the inward purpose and\nsocial conduct of man as the all-important issues; cultus, sacrifice,\nare unimportant. \"I hate, I despise your feasts, and I will take no\ndelight in your solemn assemblies,\" cries Amos in Jehovah's name, \"But\nlet justice roll down as waters and righteousness as a mighty stream.\"\n\"I have had enough of the burnt offerings of rams, and the fat of fed\nbeasts,\" proclaims Isaiah, \"new moons, and sabbaths, the calling of\nassemblies,--I cannot away with iniquity and the solemn meeting.\" You\nneed not ceremonial, but moral, purity. \"Wash you, make you clean; put\naway the evil of your doings;--seek justice, relieve the oppressed,\njudge the fatherless, plead for the widow.\" Micah's \"Shall I give my\nfirst-born for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my\nsoul?\" seized upon the difference once for all between the physical and\nthe moral; a completely ethical standpoint is gained in his summary of\nreligious duty: \"What doth God require of thee, but to do justly, and\nto love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?\" And the New Testament\nanalogue marks the true ethical valuation of all the external religious\nmanifestations, even of the cruder forms of prophecy itself. Gifts,\nmysteries, knowledge, or the \"body to be burned\"--there is a more\nexcellent way than these. For all these are \"in part.\" Their value is\nbut temporary and relative. The values that abide, that stand criticism,\nare that staking of oneself upon the truth and worth of one's ideal\nwhich is faith; that aspiration and forward look which is hope; that sum\nof all social charity, sympathy, justice, and active helpfulness, which\nis love. \"But the greatest of these is love.\"\n\n=5. The Religious View of the Kingdom Gave the Setting for a Social\nIdeal.=--Jehovah was the king of his people. The human ruler in\nJerusalem was his representative. The kingdom of Israel was under divine\ncare and had on the other hand a serious purpose. The expansion and\nglory of the kingdom under Solomon showed the divine favor. Division and\ncalamity were not mere misfortunes, or the victory of greater armies;\nthey were divine rebukes. Only in righteousness and justice could the\nnation survive. On the other hand, the confidence in Jehovah's love for\nIsrael guaranteed that he would never forsake his people. He would\npurify them and redeem them even from the grave. He would establish a\nkingdom of law and peace, \"an everlasting kingdom that should not be\ndestroyed.\" Politics in Israel had a moral goal.\n\n=6. Religion Gave the Problem of Evil a Moral Significance.=--The Greek\ntreatment of the problem of evil is found in the great tragedies. An\nancestral curse follows down successive generations, dealing woe to all\nthe unhappy house. For the victims there seems to be nothing but to\nsuffer. The necessity of destiny makes the catastrophe sublime, but also\nhopeless. Ibsen's _Ghosts_ is conceived in a similar spirit. There is a\ntremendous moral lesson in it for the fathers, but for the children\nonly horror. The Greek and the Scandinavian are doubtless interpreting\none phase of human life--its continuity and dependence upon cosmical\nnature. But the Hebrew was not content with this. His confidence in a\ndivine government of the world forced him to seek some moral value, some\npurpose in the event. The search led along one path to a readjustment of\nvalues; it led by another path to a new view of social interdependence.\n\nThe book of Job gives the deepest study of the first of these problems.\nThe old view had been that virtue and happiness always went together.\nProsperity meant divine favor, and therefore it must be the good.\nAdversity meant divine punishment; it showed wrongdoing and was itself\nan evil. When calamity comes upon Job, his friends assume it to be a\nsure proof of his wickedness. He had himself held the same view, and\nsince he refuses to admit his wickedness and \"holds fast to his\nintegrity,\" it confounds all his philosophy of life and of God. It\ncompels a \"reversal and revaluation of all values.\" If he could only\nmeet God face to face and have it out with him he believes there would\nbe some solution. But come what may, he will not sell his soul for\nhappiness. To \"repent,\" as his friends urge, in order that he may be\nagain on good terms with God, would mean for him to call sin what he\nbelieves to be righteousness. And he will not lie in this way. God is\ndoubtless stronger, and if he pursues his victim relentlessly, may\nconvict him. But be this as it may, Job will not let go his fundamental\nconsciousness of right and wrong. His \"moral self\" is the one anchor\nthat holds, is the supreme value of life.\n\n  \"As God liveth, who hath taken away my right,\n  And the Almighty who hath vexed my soul;\n  Surely my lips shall not speak unrighteousness.\n  Till I die, I will not put away my integrity from me,\n  My righteousness I hold fast, and will not let it go.\"[52]\n\nAnother suggestion of the book is that evil comes to prove man's\nsincerity: \"Does Job serve God for naught?\" and from that standpoint the\nanswer is, Yes; he does. \"There is a disinterested love of God.\"[53] In\nthis setting, also, the experience of suffering produces a shifting of\nvalues from the extrinsic to the internal.\n\nThe other treatment of the problem of suffering is found in the latter\nhalf of Isaiah. It finds an interpretation of the problem by a deeper\nview of social interdependence, in which the old tribal solidarity is\ngiven, as it were, a transfigured meaning. The individualistic\ninterpretation of suffering was that it meant personal guilt. \"We did\nesteem him stricken of God.\" This breaks down. The suffering servant is\nnot wicked. He is suffering for others--in some sense. \"He hath borne\nour griefs and carried our sorrows.\" The conception here reached of an\ninterrelation which involves that the suffering of the good may be due\nto the sin or the suffering of others, and that the assumption of this\nburden marks the higher type of ethical relation, is one of the finest\nproducts of Israel's religion. As made central in the Christian\nconception of the Cross, it has furnished one of the great elements in\nthe modern social consciousness.\n\n\nSec. 3. THE MORAL CONCEPTIONS ATTAINED\n\nThe moral conceptions which were thus worked out may now be brought\ntogether for convenient summary under the two heads of the \"How\" and the\n\"What\" indicated in our introductory chapter. Under the first we specify\nthe conceptions resulting (1) from recognition of a standard of right,\nand an ideal of good, (2) from free choice of this ideal. Under the What\nwe indicate the content of the ideal on both its personal and its social\nsides.\n\n=1. Righteousness and Sin.=--Righteousness and sin were not exact or\ncontradictory opposites. The righteous man was not necessarily sinless.\nNevertheless, the consciousness of sin, like a dark background, brought\nout more emphatically the conception of righteousness. This conception\nhad its two aspects, derived from the civil and the religious spheres of\nlife--spheres which were not separate for the Hebrew. On the one hand,\nthe just or righteous respected the moral order in human society. The\nunrighteous was unjust, extortionate, cruel. He did not respect the\nrights of others. On the other hand, the righteous man was in \"right\"\nrelation to God. This right relation might be tested by the divine law;\nbut as God was conceived as a living person, loving his people,\n\"forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin,\" it might also be measured\nby an essential harmony of spirit with the divine will. There was the\n\"righteousness of the law,\" and the \"righteousness of faith.\" The first\nimplies complete obedience; the second implies that in spite of\ntransgressions there is room for atonement[54] or reconciliation. As the\nfirst means ethically the testing of conduct by a moral standard, a\n\"moral law,\" so the second stands for the thought that character is\nrather a matter of spirit and of constant reconstruction than of exact\nconformity once for all to a hard and fast rule. Specific acts may fail\nto conform, but the life is more than a series of specific acts. The\nmeasurement of conduct by the law has its value to quicken a sense of\nshortcoming, but alone it may also lead either to self-righteous\ncomplacency or to despair. The possibility of new adjustment, of\nrenewal, of \"a new birth,\" means liberation and life. As such it may be\ncontrasted with the Buddhist doctrine of Karma, the causality from which\nthere is no escape but by the extinction of desire.\n\n\"Sin\" had likewise its various aspects. It stood for missing the mark,\nfor violating the rules of clean and unclean; but it stood also for\npersonal disobedience to the divine will, for violation of the moral\norder of Israel. In this latter sense, as identified by the prophets\nwith social unrighteousness, it is a significant ethical conception. It\nbrings out the point that evil and wrongdoing are not merely individual\nmatters, not merely failures; they offend against a law which is above\nthe private self, against a moral order which has its rightful demands\nupon us.\n\n=2. Personal Responsibility.=--The transition from group to individual\nresponsibility was thoroughly worked out by the prophets, even if they\nwere not able to carry full popular assent. In early days the whole kin\nwas treated as guilty for the offense of the kinsman. Achan's case has\nalready been cited; and in the case of Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, \"Their\nwives and their sons and their little ones\" were all treated alike.[55]\nIn like manner, the family of the righteous man shared in the divine\nfavor. The later prophets pronounced a radical change. The proverb, \"The\nfathers have eaten sour grapes and the children's teeth are set on\nedge,\" is no more to be used, declares Ezekiel, speaking for Jehovah.\n\"The soul that sinneth, it shall die; the son shall not bear the\niniquity of the father, neither shall the father bear the iniquity of\nthe son;\" and it is especially interesting to note that the Lord is\nrepresented as pleading with the people that this is fair, while the\npeople say, \"Wherefore doth not the son bear the iniquity of the\nfather?\" The solidarity of the family resisted the individualism of the\nprophetic conception, and five hundred years after Ezekiel the traces of\nthe older conception still lingered in the question, \"Who did sin, this\nman or his parents, that he was born blind?\"[56] For another aspect of\nresponsibility, viz., intent, as distinct from accidental action,[57]\nwe have certain transitional steps shown in the interesting \"cities of\nrefuge\"[58] for the accidental homicide in which he might be safe from\nthe avenger of blood, provided he was swift enough of foot to reach a\ncity of refuge before he was caught. But the fullest development in the\nethics of responsibility along this line seemed to take the form\ndescribed under the next head.\n\n=3. Sincerity, and Purity of Motive.=--The Hebrew had a philosophy of\nconduct which made it chiefly a matter of \"wisdom\" and \"folly,\" but the\nfavorite term of prophet and psalmist to symbolize the central principle\nwas rather \"the heart.\" This term stood for the voluntary disposition,\nespecially in its inner springs of emotions and sentiments, affections\nand passions. The Greek was inclined to look askance at this side of\nlife, to regard the emotions as perturbations of the soul, and to seek\ntheir control by reason, or even their repression or elimination. The\nHebrew found a more positive value in the emotional side of conduct, and\nat the same time worked out the conception of a sincere and\nthoroughgoing interest as lying at the very root of all right life. The\nreligious influence was as elsewhere the important agency. \"Man looketh\non the outward appearance, but Jehovah looketh on the heart,\"\n\"If I regard iniquity in my heart, Jehovah will not hear me,\" are\ncharacteristic expressions. A divine vision, which penetrates to the\ndeepest springs of purpose and feeling, will not tolerate pretense. Nor\nwill it be satisfied with anything less than entire devotion: the\nIsraelite must serve Jehovah with all his heart. Outer conformity is\nnot enough: \"Rend your heart and not your garments.\" It is the \"pure in\nheart\" who have the beatific vision. Not external contacts, or\nceremonial \"uncleanness,\" on which earlier ritual had insisted, defile\nthe man, but rather what proceeds from the heart. For the heart is the\nsource of evil thoughts and evil deeds.[59] And conversely, the\ninterests, the emotions, and enthusiasms which make up the man's deepest\nself do not spring forth in a vacuum; they go with the steadfast purpose\nand bent, with the self of achievement. \"Where your treasure is, there\nwill your heart be also.\"\n\nPurity of motive in a full moral consciousness means not only (formal)\nsincerity, but sincere love of good and right. This was not stated by\nthe Hebrew in abstract terms, but in the personal language of love to\nGod. In early days there had been more or less of external motives in\nthe appeals of the law and the prophets. Fear of punishment, hope of\nreward, blessings in basket and store, curses in land and field, were\nused to induce fidelity. But some of the prophets sought a deeper view,\nwhich seems to have been reached in the bitterness of human experience.\nHosea's wife had forsaken him, and should not the love of people to\nJehovah be as personal and sincere as that of wife to husband? She had\nsaid, \"I will go after my lovers _that give me my bread and my water, my\nwood and my flax, my oil and my drink_.\"[60] Is not serving God for hire\na form of prostitution?[61] The calamities of the nation tested the\ndisinterestedness of its fidelity. They were the challenge of the\nAdversary, \"Doth Job fear God for naught?\" And a remnant at least\nattested that fidelity did not depend on rewards. The moral maxim that\nvirtue is its own reward is put in personal terms by the prophet after\nthe exile:\n\n    \"For though the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be\n    in the vines; the labor of the olive shall fail, and the fields\n    shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and\n    there shall be no herd in the stalls: Yet I will rejoice in the\n    Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation.\"[62]\n\n=4. The Conception of \"Life\" as an Ideal.=--The content of Israel's\nmoral ideal on its individual side was expressed by the term \"Life.\" All\nthe blessings that the leader of Israel could offer his people were\nsummarized in the phrase, \"I have set before you life and death;\nwherefore choose life.\" The same final standard of value appears in the\nquestion of Jesus, \"What shall it profit a man to gain the whole world\nand lose his own life?\" When we inquire what life meant, so far as the\nearly sources give us data for judgment, we must infer it to have been\nmeasured largely in terms of material comfort and prosperity,\naccompanied by the satisfaction of standing in right relations to the\ngod and ruler. This latter element was so closely united with the first\nthat it was practically identical with it. If the people were prosperous\nthey might assume that they were right; if they suffered they were\nsurely wrong. Good and evil were, therefore, in this stage, measured\nlargely in terms of pleasure and pain. The end to be sought and the\nideal to be kept in mind was that of long and prosperous life--\"in her\nright hand length of days, in her left hand riches and honor.\"\nIntellectual and aesthetic interests were not prized as such. The\nknowledge which was valued was the wisdom for the conduct of life, of\nwhich the beginning and crown was \"the fear of the Lord.\" The art which\nwas valued was sacred song or poetry. But the ideal values which came to\nbulk most in the expanding conception of \"life\" were those of personal\nrelation. Family ties, always strong among Oriental peoples, gained in\npurity. Love between the sexes was refined and idealized.[63] National\nfeeling took on added dignity, because of the consciousness of a divine\nmission. Above all, personal union with God, as voiced in the psalms and\nprophets, became the desire. He, and not his gifts, was the supreme\ngood. He was the \"fountain of life.\" His likeness would satisfy. In his\nlight the faithful would see light.\n\nBut even more significant than any specific content put into the term\n\"life,\" was _what was involved in the idea itself_. The legalists had\nattempted to define conduct by a code, but there was an inherent\nvitality in the ideal of life, which refused to be measured or bounded.\nThe \"words of eternal life,\" which began the new moral movement of\nChristianity, had perhaps little definite content to the fishermen, and\nit is not easy to say just what they meant in moral terms to the writer\nof the Fourth Gospel who uses the phrase so often. With Paul, life as\nthe realm of the spirit gets definition as it stands over against the\n\"death\" of sin and lust. But with all writers of Old or New Testament,\nwhatever content it had, life meant above all the suggestion of\nsomething beyond, the gleam and dynamic power of a future not yet\nunderstood. It meant to Paul a progress which was governed not by law or\n\"rudiments,\" but by freedom. Such a life would set itself new and higher\nstandards; the laws and customs that had obtained were felt to be\noutgrown. The significance of early Christianity as a moral movement,\naside from its elements of personal devotion and social unity to be\nnoticed below, was the spirit of movement, the sense of newly forming\nhorizons beyond the old, the conviction that as sons of God its\nfollowers had boundless possibilities, that they were not the children\nof the bond woman, but of the free.\n\n=5. The Social Ideal of Justice, Love, and Peace.=--We have seen how\nthis ideal was framed in the setting of a kingdom of God. At first\nnational, it became universal, and with a fraternity which the world is\nfar from having realized, it was to know \"neither Jew nor Greek, bond\nnor free.\" At first military, it took on with seer and psalmist the form\nof a reign of peace and justice. After the fierce and crude powers\ntypified by the lion and the bear and the leopard had passed, the seer\nsaw a kingdom represented by a human form. Such a kingdom it was that\nshould not pass away. Such was the kingdom \"not of this world\" which\nJesus presented as his message. Membership in this moral kingdom was for\nthe poor in spirit, the pure in heart, the merciful, the peace-makers,\nthe hungerers after righteousness. Greatness in this moral community was\nto depend on service, not on power. The king should not fail till he had\n\"set justice in the earth.\" He should \"deliver the needy, and the poor.\"\n\nCertain features of this ideal order have since found embodiment in\nsocial and political structures; certain features remain for the future.\nCertain periods in history have transferred the ideal entirely to\nanother world, regarding human society as hopelessly given over to evil.\nSuch theories find a morality possible only by renouncing society. The\nHebrews presented rather the ideal of a moral order on earth, of a\ncontrol of all life by right, of a realization of good, and of a\ncompleteness of life. It was an ideal not dreamed out in ecstatic\nvisions of pure fancy, but worked out in struggle and suffering, in\nconfidence that moral efforts are not hopeless or destined to defeat.\nThe ideal order is to be made real. The divine kingdom is to come, the\ndivine will to be done \"_on earth_ as it is in heaven.\"\n\n\nLITERATURE\n\nThe works of W. R. Smith (_Religion of the Semites_) and Barton (_A\nSketch of Semitic Origins_) already mentioned. Schultz, _Old Testament\nTheology_, tr. _1892_; Marti, _Religion of the Old Testament_, tr.\n1907; Budde, _Religion of the Old Testament to the Exile_, 1899; H. P.\nSmith, _Old Testament History_, 1903; W. R. Smith, _The Prophets of\nIsrael_, 1895; Bruce, _Ethics of the Old Testament_, 1895; Peake,\n_Problem of Suffering in the Old Testament_, 1904; Royce, _The Problem\nof Job_ in Studies of Good and Evil, 1898; Pratt, _The Psychology of\nReligious Belief_, 1907, ch. v.; Harnack, _What is Christianity?_ tr.\n1901; Cone, _Rich and Poor in the New Testament_, 1902; Pfleiderer,\n_Primitive Christianity_, tr. 1906; Matthews, _The Social Teaching of\nJesus_, 1897; Wendt, _The Teaching of Jesus_, 1899; Pfleiderer,\n_Paulinism_, 1891; Cone, _Paul, The Man, the Missionary, and the\nTeacher_, 1898; Beyschlag, _New Testament Theology_, tr. 1895; The\n_Encyclopedia Biblica_, _The Jewish Encyclopedia_, and Hastings'\n_Dictionary_, have numerous valuable articles.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[48] M. Arnold, \"Hebraism and Hellenism,\" in _Culture and Anarchy_, ch.\niv.\n\n[49] The Hebrew and Greek words for sin both mean \"to miss.\"\n\n[50] The general function of punishment as bringing home to the\nindividual the consciousness of guilt and thus awakening the action of\nconscience, has an illustration in Shakespere's conception of the prayer\nof Henry Vth before the battle of Agincourt. In ordinary life the bluff\nKing Harry devotes little time to meditation upon his own sin or that of\nhis father, but on the eve of possible calamity the old crime rises\nfresh before him. Stimulated by the thought of an actual penalty to be\nimposed by a recognized authority, he cried: \"Not to-day, O Lord! Oh,\nnot to-day! Think not upon the fault my father made in compassing the\ncrown.\"\n\n[51] Recent excavations are held to confirm the prophets on this (Marti,\n_Religion of the Old Testament_, pp. 78 ff.).\n\n[52] Job 27:1-6.\n\n[53] Genung, _Job, The Epic of the Inner Life_.\n\n[54] See _Atonement in Literature and in Life_, by Charles A. Dinsmore.\nBoston, 1906.\n\n[55] Numbers 16, Joshua 7.\n\n[56] John 9:2.\n\n[57] Hammurabi's code showed a disregard of intent which would make\nsurgery a dangerous profession: \"If a physician operate on a man for a\nsevere wound with a bronze lancet and cause the man's death; or open an\nabscess [in the eye] of a man with a bronze lancet and destroy the man's\neye, they shall cut off his fingers.\" Early German and English law is\njust as naive. If a weapon was left to be repaired at a smith's and was\nthen caught up or stolen and used to do harm, the original owner was\nheld responsible.\n\n[58] Numbers 35, Deuteronomy 19, Joshua 20.\n\n[59] Mark 7:1-23.\n\n[60] Hosea 2:5.\n\n[61] H. P. Smith, _Old Testament History_, p. 222.\n\n[62] Habakkuk 3:17, 18.\n\n[63] The Song of Songs.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nTHE MORAL DEVELOPMENT OF THE GREEKS\n\n\nSec. 1. THE FUNDAMENTAL NOTES\n\n=Convention versus Nature.=--The Hebrew moral life was developed under\nthe relation, first of the people, then of the individuals, to God,--a\nrelation at once of union and of conflict. It was out of the relation of\nthe individual to social traditions and political order that the Greek\ncame to full consciousness of moral law on the one hand, and a moral\npersonality on the other. And just as in Jewish life the law and the\nprophets (or, later, the \"law and the gospel\") stood for the conflicting\nforces, so in Greek life the opposition between the authority of the\ngroup, embodied in custom and institutions, on the one hand, and the\nurging claims of developing personality, manifest in both intelligence\nand desire, on the other, found expression in contrasted terms. The\nauthority of the group embodied in customs and institutions, came to be\nregarded by the radicals as relatively external, artificial, and rigid.\nIt was dubbed \"convention,\" or \"institution\" (_thesis_, what is set up).\nThe rapidly developing intelligence challenged the merely customary and\ntraditional; the increasing individuality challenged the superior\nauthority of the group, especially when this manifested itself\napparently in a government of force. Personal intelligence and personal\nfeeling asserted a more elemental claim, felt themselves rooted in a\nmore original source, and called this source \"nature\" (_physis_). Social\ntradition and authority, individual reason and feeling, thus confronted\neach other as \"convention\" and \"nature.\" It was a struggle which has its\nanalogy in the development of many a young man or young woman who is\nemerging from parental control to self-direction. But in Greek life more\ndistinctly than elsewhere we see the steps of the process as a civic and\nnot merely an individual development. Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides\npresented this conflict of the individual with law or destiny as the\ngreat, oft-repeated tragedy of human life. Aristophanes mocked with\nbitter satire the \"new\" views. Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Cynics,\nCyrenaics, Epicureans, and Stoics took part in the theoretical\ndiscussions.\n\n=Measure.=--The fundamental note of all Greek life, before, during, and\nafter this development, was _Measure_, _Order_, _Proportion_. This note\nfound expression in religion, science, art, and conduct. Among their\ngods, the Greeks set Moira, \"Destiny,\" and Themis, \"Custom,\" \"Law,\"\n\"Right.\" They found order in the universe, which on this account they\ncalled the \"cosmos.\" They expressed it in their arts, especially in\narchitecture, sculpture, the choral dance, and the more highly developed\ntragedy or lyric:\n\n    \"And all life is full of them [of form and measure],\" says Plato,\n    \"as well as every constructive and creative art. And surely the\n    art of the painter and every other creative and constructive art\n    are full of them,--weaving, embroidery, architecture, and every\n    kind of manufacture; also nature, animal and vegetable,--in all of\n    them there is grace or the absence of grace; and if our youth are\n    to do their work in life, must they not make these graces and\n    harmonies their perpetual aim?\"\n\nThe best people, the \"gentlemen,\" were styled kaloika-gathoi--\"fair and\ngood.\" The motto at the Delphic shrine was, \"Nothing in excess.\"\nInsolent disregard of propriety, \"hybris,\" was the quality most\ndenounced by the early moralizing poets. Tityus, Tantalus, and Sisyphus,\nthe three special subjects of divine punishment, suffered the penalty\nof insatiate desire, or limits overstepped. And after criticism and\nindividualism had done their work, Plato's conception of justice,\nAristotle's doctrine of the \"mean,\" the Stoic maxim of \"life according\nto nature,\" have but discovered a deeper significance for the\nfundamental law of Greek life.\n\n=The Good and the Just.=--The conceptions of the Good and the Just are\ndeveloped from the two notes just presented. The motive for challenge to\nestablished institutions was the awakening desire of the individual to\nseek his own good and to live his own life. Commerce was bringing a\ngreat variety of rewards to the shrewd merchant and a great variety of\ngoods to evoke and gratify wants. Slavery set free the citizen from the\nneed of manual labor and gave him leisure to cultivate his tastes. The\nforces of individualism, described in Chapter V., were all at work to\nbring the process and object of desire to consciousness. Moreover, the\nterm \"good\" was also in use to mark the popular ideal. It was applied to\nwhat we should call the \"successful\" men of the day. In present life our\nterm \"good\" has become so definitely moral that probably most young\npersons would hesitate to say that they have it as their ideal to become\ngood, although few would hesitate to say that they wish to be capable\nand successful. For social and political recognition seems to be based\nrather on achievement of striking results than upon what is technically\ncalled \"goodness.\" But in Greece moral goodness was not used to\ndesignate \"character\" as contrasted with \"results.\" The \"good man\" was\nlike the \"good lawyer\" or \"good athlete\" or \"good soldier,\" the man who\nwas efficient and conspicuous. It was in the process which we are to\ntrace that the ambiguities and deeper meanings of the term came to\ndefinition.\n\nThe terms Just and Justice were not of course merely synonyms for order\nand measure. They had likewise the social significance coming from the\ncourts and the assembly. They stood for the control side of life, as\nGood stood for its aspect of valuation and desire. But as compared with\nthe Hebrew conception of righteousness, they meant much less a\nconformity to a law divine or human which had been already set up as\nstandard, and much more, an ordering, a regulating, a harmonizing. The\nrational element of measure or order was more prominent than the\npersonal note of authority. Hence we shall find Plato passing easily\nback and forth between justice or order in the individual and justice or\norder in the State. On the other hand, the radicals of the day could\nseize upon the legal usage and declare that Justice or the Law was\npurely a matter of self-interest or class interest.\n\n\nSec. 2. INTELLECTUAL FORCES OF INDIVIDUALISM\n\n=The Scientific Spirit.=--The older standards were embodied in religious\nand political ideas and institutions; the agency which was to\ndisentangle and bring into clear consciousness the standards _as such_,\nwas the scientific spirit, the knowledge and reflection of an\nintellectual people at a period of extraordinarily rapid development.\nThe commercial life, the free intercourse with other peoples and\ncivilizations, especially in the colonies, the absence of any generally\ndominating political authority, the architectural problems suggested by\na beauty-loving people,--all promoted alertness and flexibility of mind.\n\nIn a concrete form, this rational character had already found expression\nin the quality of Greek art. Reference has already been made to the\nformal side of Greek art, with its embodiment of rhythm and measure; the\nsubject-matter shows the same element. The Greek world, as contrasted\nwith the barbarian world, was conceived by the Greek as the realm of\nlight contrasted with darkness; the national God, Apollo, embodied this\nideal of light and reason, and his fitting symbol was the sun. The\ngreat Pan-Athenaic procession, as reproduced in the Parthenon frieze,\ncelebrated the triumph of Greek light and intelligence over barbarian\ndarkness. Athena, goddess of wisdom, was a fitting guardian of the most\nGreek of all Greek cities. Greek tragedy, beginning in hymns of worship,\nsoon passed over into a portrayal of the all-controlling laws of life,\nas these are brought into stronger relief by a tragic collision with\nhuman agents.\n\nIt was, however, in the realm of science that this intellectual genius\nfound field for expression in a clearly conscious manner. Almost all our\nsciences were originated by the Greeks, and they were particularly\nsuccessful in those which called for abstract thinking in the highest\ndegree. Euclid's geometry and Aristotle's logic are conspicuous\nillustrations of this ability. The most general conceptions of natural\nscience: e.g., the conception of the atom and the whole materialistic\ntheory of the universe; the conception of evolution, meaning by this the\nprocess of change according to an all-controlling law; the conception of\nnatural selection, according to which those organisms survive which are\nfitted for their environment,--all these were the product of the keen\nintelligence of the Greeks. Nor was their scientific ability expended\nupon external nature alone. The conception of history as more than a\nseries of events, the comparative method in the study of political\nsystems, the analysis of literary and artistic effects, attest the same\nclarity of mind and the same eager search for the most general laws of\nevery aspect of experience.\n\n=Science and Religion.=--When, now, this scientific mind began to\nconsider the practical guidance of life, the older political and\nreligious controls presented serious difficulty. The gods were supposed\nto reward the good and punish the evil,[64] but how could this be\nreconciled with their practices? Aeschylus attempted a purifying and\nelevating of the divine ideal, similar to that which Israel's conception\nunderwent in the work of the prophets. He magnified the dignity and\nprovidential government of Zeus, which, though dark, is yet just and\ncertain. But the great obstacle was that the earlier and cruder\nconceptions of the gods had been fixed in literary form; the tales of\nCronos's impiety to Uranos, of Zeus' deceitful messenger and marital\nunfaithfulness, of Aphrodite's amours, and Hermes' gift of theft, were\nall written in Hesiod and Homer. The cruder conceptions of the gods had\nthus become too firmly fixed in the popular imagination to be capable of\nbecoming the bearers of advancing ethical ideals, and so not merely the\nirreverent scoffer, but the serious tragedian, Euripides, and the\nreligious idealist, Plato, do not hesitate to challenge boldly the older\nconceptions, or to demand a revision of all this literature before it\ncomes into the hands of the young.\n\n=Social Standards.=--The social standards of propriety and honorable\nconduct were likewise brought in question by advancing intelligence. The\nword which summed up the early Greek idea of the best type was\n_Kalokagathos_. This word was very nearly the equivalent of our English\nword \"gentleman.\" It combined the elements of birth, ability, and\nrefinement, but in the earlier usage the emphasis was upon the fact of\nbirth, even as our terms \"generous,\" \"noble,\" \"gentle,\" originally\nreferred to membership in a \"gens.\" Socrates investigated the current\nestimates and found that the people who were generally regarded as the\n\"respectable,\" or, as we should say, the \"best\" people of Athens, were\nnot necessarily either \"fine\" or \"good\" in person or character; the\nterm had come to be one of \"convention,\" without basis in reason. Plato\ngoes still further and with a direct application of the rational\nstandard to the current estimates, pokes fun at the conventional\njudgment of what constitutes the respectable gentleman.\n\n    \"When they sing the praises of family and say that some one is a\n    gentleman because he has had seven generations of wealthy\n    ancestors, he [the philosopher] thinks that their sentiments only\n    betray the dullness and narrowness of vision of those who utter\n    them, and who are not educated enough to look at the whole, nor to\n    consider that every man has had thousands and thousands of\n    progenitors, and among them have been rich and poor, kings and\n    slaves, Hellenes and barbarians, many times over. And when some\n    one boasts of a catalogue of twenty-five ancestors, and goes back\n    to Heracles, the son of Amphitryon, he cannot understand his\n    poverty of ideas. Why is he unable to calculate that Amphitryon\n    had a twenty-fifth ancestor, who might have been anybody, and was\n    such as fortune made him, and he had a fiftieth, and so on? He is\n    amused at the notion that he cannot do a sum, and thinks that a\n    little arithmetic would have got rid of his senseless vanity.\"\n\nThe type of life that is really noble or fine and good is to be found in\nthe seeker for true beauty and goodness. External beauty of form and\nappearance has its value in kindling the desire for the higher forms of\nbeauty,--beauty of mind, of institutions and laws, of science,--until\nfinally the conception of the true beauty is reached. This true beauty,\nas distinct from the particular beauties, and true good, as distinct\nfrom seeming or partial good, are discovered only by the \"philosopher,\"\nthe seeker for wisdom.\n\n=Popular Morals.=--Nor did the more positively recognized types of moral\nexcellence fare better. As recognized in common life, they were courage,\nprudence or moderation, holiness or a certain respect for the serious\nthings of life, and justice: but none of these, Plato argues, is really\nan independent excellence, apart from conscious and intelligent action.\nCourage, for example, is not really courage unless one knows and\nforesees the danger in all its strength; otherwise there is merely\nreckless bravery. Prudence or moderation, to be really excellent, must\nbe measured by wisdom. Even justice cannot be regarded as at bottom\ndistinct from wisdom, the true measure of all the relations of life.\n\n=Science and the Laws.=--The political control was likewise involved in\nquestion by the same forces of intelligence which had challenged the\nreligious authority. The frequent changes of government, and the more or\nless arbitrary measures that were oftentimes adopted, were adapted to\nawaken doubt as to the absolute right and authority of the laws. The\ndespot who gained control in many a Greek city was not bound by ties of\nblood to all members of the community, nor did he govern in accordance\nwith the ancestral traditions of the tribe. The political authority\nfrequently clashed with the instincts and traditions of family and\nkinship. Under such circumstances, the political authority was likely to\nbe challenged and its constraining power stretched to the breaking\npoint. So in the _Antigone_ of Sophocles, the command of the ruler is\nopposed to the \"higher law\" of kinship and nature. The law of man is not\nthe law of nature or of God. To disobey this conventional law of man is\nto be guilty of \"holiest crime.\" The old standards, both of religion and\nof political life, crumbled before the analysis of the developing\nintelligence, and the demand for some standard could be met only by the\nintelligence itself. To question the old must inevitably seem irreverent\nand anarchical. Some questioned merely to doubt; others, and of these\nSocrates was the leader, questioned in order to find a firmer basis, a\nmore authoritative standard. But naturally the popular mind did not\ndistinguish between these two classes of questioners, and so Socrates\nperished, not merely as the victim of unjust popular calumny, but as\nthe victim of the tragedy of moral progress, of the change from the\nestablished to the new.\n\n\nSec. 3. COMMERCIAL AND POLITICAL INDIVIDUALISM\n\nA further line of development joined forces with this growth of\nintelligence, to emphasize the problem of moral control, and to set the\nindividual with his standards over against the objective standards of\nsociety. This was the rapidly growing consciousness of individual goods\nand interests. The commercial life, with its possibilities of individual\nproperty, the rapid changes of political life, with the rise of\nindividuals to power and privilege, the increasing opportunities which a\nhigh civilization brought both men and women for personal enjoyment and\ngratification of rapidly increasing wants, all tended to make the\nindividual seek his own good, and to shift the emphasis of life from the\nquestion, What is proper, or honorable? to the question, What is\n_good_--good for _me_?\n\n=Class Interests.=--The conviction that the authority of government and\nlaw was largely dictated by the very considerations of private interests\nwhich they were supposed to overrule and eliminate, made the situation\nmore acute. For the Greek States were no longer groups with common\ninterests. The growth of capital, the corresponding eagerness for gain,\nthe formation of distinct classes, each intent on its interests,\nsupplanted the older, more homogeneous State. \"The whole development of\nthe political life of the Hellenic republics depended ultimately on the\ndecision of the question, which of the different social classes--the\ncapitalistic minority, the middle class, or the poor--should obtain the\ndominant place.\" Aristotle defines an oligarchy as a State governed in\nthe interest of the rich; a democracy, as a State governed in the\ninterest of the poor. Another contemporary writer explains a democracy\nas consulting the interests of the democrats, the \"lower classes,\" and\nconsiders this a matter of course, \"for if the rich had the say, they\nwould do what was good for themselves but not for the multitude.\"\nNaturally such dominance by classes called out vigorous criticisms upon\nthe laws and standards so established. The aristocratic minority\ninveighed against \"custom\" or conventions which would tame the strong to\nthe level of the weak. Nature demands rather the \"survival of the\nfittest,\" i.e., of the strong. The enlightened spectator of the game of\ngovernment, on the other hand, declares that all laws are made in the\ninterest of ruling classes. The reader of current criticisms on laws and\ncourts will see how close is the parallel to present complaints. We have\nto-day the same two classes: One inveighs against governmental\ninterference with the right to combine, to contract, and in general to\nget from the earth or from men, women, and children all that superior\npower and shrewdness can possibly extract. The other complains that\nlegislatures are owned by wealth, that judges are appointed from\ncorporation lawyers, that common law is a survival of ancient\naristocratic status, and that for these reasons labor can get no\njustice.\n\nLet us first hear the plea for inequality:\n\n    \"Custom and nature are generally at variance with one another; ...\n    for by the rule of nature, that only is the more disgraceful which\n    is the greater evil; as, for example, to suffer injustice; but by\n    the rule of custom, to do evil is the more disgraceful. For this\n    suffering of injustice is not the part of a man, but of a slave,\n    who indeed had better die than live; for when he is wronged and\n    trampled upon, he is unable to help himself or any other about\n    whom he cares. The reason, as I conceive, is that the makers of\n    laws are the many weak; and they make laws and distribute praises\n    and censures with a view to themselves and their own interests;\n    and they terrify the mightier sort of men, and those who are able\n    to get the better of them, in order that they may not get the\n    better of them; and they say that dishonesty is shameful and\n    unjust; meanwhile, when they speak of injustice, they desire to\n    have more than their neighbors, for knowing their own\n    inferiority, they are only too glad of equality. And therefore,\n    this seeking to have more than the many is conventionally said to\n    be shameful and unjust, and is called injustice, whereas nature\n    herself intimates that it is just for the better to have more than\n    the worse, the more powerful than the weaker; and in many ways she\n    shows, among men as well as among animals, and indeed among whole\n    cities and races, that justice consists in the superior ruling\n    over and having more than the inferior. For on what principle of\n    justice did Xerxes invade Hellas, or his father the Scythians?\n    (not to speak of numberless other examples). They, I conceive, act\n    according to nature; yes, and according to the law of nature; not\n    perhaps, according to that artificial law which we frame and\n    fashion, taking the best and strongest of us from their youth\n    upwards, and taming them like young lions, and charming them with\n    the sound of the voice, saying to them that with equality they\n    must be content, and that this is the honorable and the just. But\n    if there were a man who had sufficient force, he would shake off\n    and break through and escape from all this; he would trample under\n    foot all our formulas and spells and charms, and all our laws,\n    sinning against nature; the slave would rise in rebellion and be\n    lord over us, and the light of natural justice would shine forth.\n    And this I take to be the lesson of Pindar, in the poem in which\n    he says that\n\n      \"'Law is the King of all, mortals as well as immortals!'\n\n    This, as he says:\n\n      \"'Makes might to be right, and does violence with exalted hand; as\n      I infer from the deeds of Heracles, for without buying them----'\n\n    \"I do not remember the exact words, but the meaning is, that he\n    carried off the oxen of Geryon without buying them, and without\n    their being given to him by Geryon, according to the law of\n    natural right, and that the oxen and other possessions of the\n    weaker and inferior properly belong to the stronger and superior.\"\n    (PLATO, _Gorgias_, 482-4.)\n\nThe essence of this view is, therefore, that might is right, and that no\nlegislation or conventional code ought to stand in the way of the free\nassertion of genius and power. It is similar to the teaching of\nNietzsche in recent times.\n\nBut the other side had its complaint also. The laws are made by the\n\"shepherds\" of the people, as Homer called them. But who is now so\nsimple as to suppose that the \"shepherds\" fatten or tend the sheep with\na view to the good of the sheep, and not to their own good? All laws and\ngovernments really exist for the interest of the ruling class.[65] They\nrest upon convention or \"institution,\" not upon \"nature.\"\n\n=Why Obey Laws?=--And if laws and social codes are but class\nlegislation, conventional, why obey them? The older Greek life had felt\nthe motives described in Chapter IV., though it had embodied them in\nsymbolism and imagery. The Nemesis that followed the guilty, the\nErinnys, or avenging goddesses, were the personified wrath of outraged\nlaw; _aid[=o]s_, respect or reverence, _aischyne_, regard for public\nopinion, were the inner feelings. But with the advancing tide of\nintellectual criticism and individual interest, these sanctions were\ndiscredited; feelings of personal enjoyment demanded recognition, and\nthe moralists at first appealed to this. \"Parents and tutors are always\ntelling their sons and their wards that they are to be just; but only\nnot for the sake of justice, but for the sake of character and\nreputation.\" But if the only reason for justice is reputation, there\nmight seem to be no sufficient reason for taking the thorny path, if\nthere be an easier. Will not the youth say, in the words of Pindar:\n\n    \"Can I by justice, or by crooked ways of deceit, ascend a loftier\n    tower which may be a fortress to me all my days?\"[66]\n\nAnd if I decide that the crooked way is the easier, why shall I not\nfollow it? My party, or my \"union\", or my lawyer will stand by and see\nme through:\n\n    \"But I hear some one exclaiming that the concealment of wickedness\n    is often difficult; to which I answer, Nothing great is easy.\n    Nevertheless, the argument indicates this, if we would be happy,\n    to be the path along which we should proceed. With a view to\n    concealment we will establish secret brotherhoods and political\n    clubs. And there are professors of rhetoric who teach the art of\n    persuading courts and assemblies; and so, partly by persuasion and\n    partly by force, I shall make unlawful gains and not be punished.\n    Still I hear a voice saying that the gods cannot be deceived,\n    neither can they be compelled. But what if there are no gods? or,\n    suppose them to have no care of human things, why in either case\n    should we mind about concealment?\"[67]\n\nBesides, the greatest prizes, not only in material goods, but even in\nthe line of reputation, seemed to fall to the individualist if he could\nonly act on a sufficiently large scale. He could then be both prosperous\nand \"respectable.\" If he could steal the government, or, in modern\nphrase, bribe a legislature to elect him to Congress, pass special\nlegislation, or grant a franchise, he could not merely escape\npunishment, but be honored by his fellows.\n\n    \"I am speaking of injustice on a large scale, in which the\n    advantage of the unjust is most apparent, and my meaning will be\n    most clearly seen in that highest form of injustice, the\n    perpetrator of which is the happiest of men, as the sufferers of\n    these who refuse to do injustice are the most miserable--I mean\n    tyranny which by fraud and force takes away the property of\n    others, not retail but wholesale; comprehending in one things\n    sacred as well as profane, private and public, for any one of\n    which acts of wrong, if he were detected perpetrating them singly,\n    he would be punished and incur great dishonor; for they who are\n    guilty of any of these crimes in single instances are called\n    robbers of temples and man-stealers and burglars and swindlers and\n    thieves. But when a man has taken away the money of the citizens\n    and made slaves of them, then instead of these dishonorable names,\n    he is called happy and blessed, not only by the citizens but by\n    all who hear of his having achieved the consummation of injustice.\n    For injustice is censured because the censurers are afraid of\n    suffering, and not from any fear which they have of doing\n    injustice. And thus, as I have shown, Socrates, injustice, when on\n    a sufficient scale, has more strength and freedom and mastery than\n    justice; and, as I said at first, justice is the interest of the\n    stronger, whereas injustice is a man's own profit and\n    interest.\"[68]\n\n\nSec. 4. INDIVIDUALISM AND ETHICAL THEORY\n\n=The Question Formulated.=--The outcome of this first movement was thus\ntwofold: (a) It forced the questions, \"What is just?\" \"What is good?\"\ninto clear and definite consciousness. The very necessity of comparison\nand of getting a _general standard_, forced the inquirer to disentangle\nthe concepts previously embodied in customs and laws. But when the\nessence was thus found and freed, or disembodied, as it were, the custom\nseemed lifeless, merely \"convention\", and the essence often quite\nopposed to the form. (b) It emphasized the _personal interest_, the\naffective or emotional side of conduct, and made the moral problem take\nthe form, \"What is the good?\"\n\nFurthermore, two positive theses have been established by the very\nforces which have been active in disintegrating the old status. If\ncustom no longer suffices, then reason must set the standard; if society\ncannot prescribe the good to the individual, then the individual must\nfind some method of defining and seeking it for himself unless he is to\nmake shipwreck of his whole venture.\n\nWe may bring both aspects of the problem under the conception of\n\"nature\", as opposed to convention or institution. Convention is indeed\noutgrown, nature is the imperious authority. But granting that nature is\nrightful master, is \"nature\" to be sought in the primitive beginnings,\nor in the fullest development? in a life of isolation, or in a life of\nsociety? in the desires and passions, or in reason and a harmonious\nlife?\n\nOr, stating the same problem otherwise: granting that reason must fix\nthe measure, and the individual must define and seek the good for\nhimself, is the good to be found in isolation, or is it to be sought in\nhuman society with its bonds of family, friendship, and justice? Is the\nend to be pleasure, found in the gratification of desires, irrespective\nof their quality, and is it the business of reason merely to measure one\ngratification with another and get the most? or is wisdom itself a good,\nand is it better to satisfy certain impulses rather than others? i.e.,\nshall reason form the standard as well as apply it?\n\nThese contrasting solutions of the problem of life may be stated then\nunder the two pairs of antitheses: (1) The Individual _versus_ the\nSocial; (2) The Immediate Satisfaction _versus_ an Ideal Standard, at\nonce higher and more permanent.\n\n=Typical Solutions.=--Poets, radicals, sensualists, individualists of no\nphilosophic school, as well as the historic philosophic schools,\ncontributed to the discussion and solution of these problems. All sought\nthe \"natural\" life; but it is noteworthy that all the philosophic\nschools claimed Socrates as their master, and all sought to justify\ntheir answers by reason, all made the wise man the ideal. The Cynics and\nCyrenaics, Stoics and Epicureans, Plato and Aristotle represent the\nvarious philosophic answers to these alternatives. Cynics and Cyrenaics\nboth answer (1) by individualism, but diverge on (2), the Cynics placing\nemphasis on independence from wants, the Cyrenaics on gratification of\nwants. Stoics and Epicureans represent broader and more social\ndevelopment of the same principles, the Stoics seeking a cosmopolitan\nstate, the Epicureans a community of friends; the Stoics emphasizing\nreason or wisdom as the only good; the Epicureans finding for wisdom a\nfield in the selection of refined pleasures. Plato and Aristotle, with\nvarying emphasis but essential agreement, insist (1) that the good of\nman is found in fulfilling completely his highest possible functions,\nwhich is possible only in society; (2) that wisdom is not merely to\napply a standard but to form one; that while neither reason alone nor\nfeeling alone is enough for life, yet that pleasure is rather for life\nthan life for pleasure. Finally, Plato, Aristotle and the Stoics, as\nwell as the tragic poets, contribute successively to the formation of an\nideal of responsible character.\n\n=Early Individualistic Theories.=--Cynics and Cyrenaics were alike\nindividualists. Society, they held, is artificial. Its so-called goods,\non the one hand, and its restrictions on the other, are to be rejected\nunless they favor the individual's happiness. Independence was the mark\nof wisdom among the Cynics; Antisthenes, proud of the holes in his\ngarment; Diogenes, dwelling in his tent or sleeping in the street,\nscoffing at the current \"conventions\" of decency, asking from Philip\nonly that he would get out of his sunshine--are the characteristic\nfigures. The \"state of nature\" was opposed to the State. Only the\nprimitive wants were recognized as natural. \"Art and science, family and\nnative land, were indifferent. Wealth and refinement, fame and honor,\nseemed as superfluous as those enjoyments of the senses which went\nbeyond the satisfaction of the natural wants of hunger and sex.\"\n\nThe Cyrenaics, or hedonists (_h[=e]don[=e]_, pleasure), gave a different\nturn to wisdom. The good is pleasure, and wisdom is found in that\nprudence which selects the purest and most intense. Hence, if this is\nthe good, why should a man trouble himself about social standards or\nsocial obligations? \"The hedonists gladly shared the refinement of\nenjoyment which civilization brought with it; they found it convenient\nand permissible that the intelligent man should enjoy the honey which\nothers prepared; but no feeling of duty or thankfulness bound them to\nthe civilization whose fruits they enjoyed. Sacrifice for others,\npatriotism, and devotion to a general object, Theodorus declared to be\na form of foolishness which it did not become the wise man to\nshare.\"[69]\n\n\nSec. 5. THE DEEPER VIEW OF NATURE AND THE GOOD; OF THE INDIVIDUAL AND\nTHE SOCIAL ORDER\n\n=Value of a State.=--Plato and Aristotle take up boldly the challenge of\nindividualism. It may indeed be granted that existing states are too\noften ruled by classes. There are oligarchies in which the soldier or\nthe rich control for their own interests; there are tyrannies in which\nthe despot is greed and force personified; there are democracies (Plato\nwas an aristocrat) in which the mob bears rule, and those who flatter\nand feed its passions are in authority. But all these do but serve to\nbring out more clearly the conception of a true State, in which the rule\nis by the wisest and best and is not for the interest of a class, but\nfor the welfare of all. Even as it was, the State of Athens in Plato's\nday--except when it condemned a Socrates--meant completeness and freedom\nof life. It represented not merely a police force to protect the\nindividual, but stood for the complete organization of all the life\nwhich needs cooperation and mutual support. The State provided\ninstruction for the mind and training for the body. It surrounded the\ncitizen with an atmosphere of beauty and provided in the tragedy and\ncomedy opportunities for every citizen to consider the larger\nsignificance of life or to join in the contagious sympathy of mirth. In\nfestivals and solemn processions it brought the citizen into unity of\nreligious feeling. To be an Athenian citizen meant to share in all the\nhigher possibilities which life afforded. Interpreting this life,\nAristotle proclaims that it is not in isolation, but in the State, that\n\"the goal of full independence may be said to be first attained.\"\n\n=The Natural.=--Aristotle goes directly to the heart of the problem as\nto what is natural by asserting that nature is not to be found in the\ncrude beginning, but rather in the complete development. \"The nature of\nanything, e.g., of a man, a horse, or a house, may be defined to be its\ncondition when the process of production is complete.\" Hence the State\n\"in which alone completeness of life is attained\" is in the highest\nsense natural:\n\n    \"The object proposed or the complete development of a thing is its\n    highest good; but independence which is first attained in the\n    State is a complete development or the highest good and is\n    therefore natural.\" \"For as the State was formed to make life\n    possible, so it exists to make life good.\"\n\n    \"Thus we see that the State is a natural institution, that man is\n    naturally a political animal and that one who is not a citizen of\n    any State, if the cause of his isolation be natural and not\n    accidental, is either a superhuman being or low in the scale of\n    human civilization, as he stands alone like a 'blot' on the\n    backgammon board. The 'clanless, lawless, hearthless man,' so\n    bitterly described by Homer, is a case in point, for he is\n    naturally a citizen of no state and a lover of war.\"[70]\n\nNor does Aristotle stop here. With a profound insight into the relation\nof man to society, and the dependence of the individual upon the social\nbody, a relation which modern social psychology has worked out in\ngreater detail, Aristotle asserts that the State is not merely the goal\nof the individual's development, but the source of his life.\n\n    \"Again, in the order of nature the State is prior to the household\n    or individual. For the whole must needs be prior to its part. For\n    instance, if you take away the body which is the whole, there will\n    not remain any such thing as a hand or foot, unless we use the\n    same word in a different sense, as when we speak of a stone hand\n    as a hand. For a hand separated from the body will be a disabled\n    hand; whereas it is the faculty or function of a thing which makes\n    it what it is, and therefore when things lose their function or\n    faculty, it is not correct to call them the same things, but\n    rather homonymous, i.e., different things having the same name.\n    We see, then, the State is a natural institution, and also that it\n    is prior to the individual. For if the individual as a separate\n    unit is not independent, he must be a part and must bear the same\n    relation to the State as the other parts to their wholes; and one\n    who is incapable of association with others or is independent and\n    has no need of such association, is no member of a State; in other\n    words, he is either a brute or a God.\"[71]\n\nAnd, moreover, when we look into the nature of the individual, we do not\nfind him a being devoid of the sympathies and qualities which find their\nnatural expression not only in the State, but in various social and\nfriendly relations. There is \"an impulse toward the life in common\"\n([Greek: philia]) which expresses itself in friendship, but which is\nalso so essential to that recognition of others called justice that we\nmay say \"it is the most just of all just things.\" There is also a unity\nof disposition and purpose ([Greek: omonoia]) which may be called\n\"political friendship.\"[72]\n\n=Plato's Ideal State.=--How then is the State constituted and governed\nwhich is to provide for man's full development, his complete good?\nEvidently two principles must control. In the first place, it must be so\nconstituted that every man may develop in it the full capacities of his\nnature, and thereby serve at once the perfection of the State and his\nown completeness; and in the second place, the State or social whole\nmust be ruled by those best fitted for this work. Not the soldier, nor\nthe plutocrat, nor the artisan, but the man who knows, is the suitable\nruler for our ideal community. The soldier may defend, the artisan may\nsupport, but the scientific or intelligent man should rule. And it is\nevident that in settling this principle, we have also answered our first\nproblem; for the soldier and the artisan will find his full development\nby doing the work which he can do well, not by meddling with a task in\nwhich he must necessarily fail. In order to guard against the greed\nwhich was so characteristic of the governments of his day, Plato would\nprovide that the rulers and warriors should have no private property,\nand not even private families. Their eye should be single to the good of\nthe whole. When asked as to the practicability of a State governed by\nsuch disinterested rulers, and with such wisdom, he admits indeed its\ndifficulty, but he stoutly demands its necessity:\n\n    \"Until philosophers are kings, or the kings and princes of this\n    world have the spirit and power of philosophy, and political\n    greatness and wisdom meet in one, and those commoner natures who\n    pursue either to the exclusion of the other are compelled to stand\n    aside, cities will never have rest from their evils,--no, nor the\n    human race, as I believe,--and then only will this our State have\n    a possibility of life and behold the light of day.\"[73]\n\nAnd yet the question of the actual existence of a perfect State is not\nthe question of supreme importance. For Plato has grasped the thought\nthat man is controlled not only by what he sees, but by what he images\nas desirable. And if a man has once formed the image of an ideal State\nor city of this kind, in which justice prevails, and life reaches fuller\nand higher possibilities than it has yet attained, this is the main\nthing:\n\n    \"In heaven, there is laid up a pattern of it, methinks, which he\n    who desires may behold, and beholding, may set his own house in\n    order. But whether such an one exists, or ever will exist in fact,\n    is no matter: for he will live after the manner of that city,\n    having nothing to do with any other.\"[74]\n\n=The Social as Law of Nature.=--The social nature of man, thus\nvindicated by Plato and Aristotle, remained as the permanent possession\nof Greek thought. Even the Epicureans, who developed further the\nhedonistic theory of life, emphasized the values of friendship as among\nthe choicest and most refined sources of pleasure. The Stoics, who in\ntheir independence of wants took up the tradition of the Cynics, were\nyet far from interpreting this as an independence of society. The\ndisintegration of the Greek states made it impossible to find the social\nbody in the old city-state, and so we find with the Stoics a certain\ncosmopolitanism. It is the highest glory of man to be a citizen not of\nAthens but of the universe,--not of the city of Cecrops, but of the city\nof Zeus. And through this conception the social nature of man was made\nthe basis of a \"natural law,\" which found its expression in the\nprinciples of Roman and modern jurisprudence.\n\n=Passion or Reason.=--In answering the question as to the true nature of\nman, Plato and Aristotle found the suggestions likewise for the problem\nof individual good. For if the soldier as the seeker for fame and honor,\nthe avaricious man embodying the desire for wealth, and still more, the\ntyrant personifying the unbridled expression of every lust and passion,\nare abhorrent, is it not easy to see that an orderly and harmonious\ndevelopment of impulses under the guidance and control of reason, is far\nbetter than that uncramped expression of desires and cravings for which\nsome of the radical individualists and sensualists of the day were\nclamoring? As representative of this class, hear Callicles:\n\n    \"I plainly assert that he who would truly live ought to allow his\n    desires to wax to the uttermost, and not to chastise them; but\n    when they have grown to their greatest, he should have courage and\n    intelligence to minister to them and to satisfy all his longings.\n    And this I affirm to be natural justice and nobility.\" The\n    temperate man is a fool. It is only in hungering and eating, in\n    thirsting and drinking, in having all his desires about him, and\n    gratifying every possible desire, that man lives happily.[75]\n\nBut even Callicles himself admits that there are certain men, the\ncreatures of degraded desire, whose lives are not ideal, and hence\nthat there must be some choice of pleasure. And carrying out in the\nindividual life the thought above suggested by the State, Plato raises\nthe question as to whether man, a complex being, with both noble and\nignoble impulses, and with the capacity of controlling reason, can be\nsaid to make a wise choice if he lets the passions run riot and choke\nout wholly his rational nature:\n\n    \"Is not the noble that which subjects the beast to the man, or\n    rather to the god in man; and the ignoble that which subjects the\n    man to the beast? He can hardly avoid admitting this,--can he now?\n    Not if he has any regard for my opinion. But, if he admits this,\n    we may ask him another question: How would a man profit if he\n    received gold and silver on the condition that he was to enslave\n    the noblest part of him to the worst? Who can imagine that a man\n    who sold his son or daughter into slavery for money, especially if\n    he sold them into the hands of fierce and evil men, would be the\n    gainer, however large might be the sum which he received? And will\n    any one say that he is not a miserable caitiff who sells his own\n    divine being to that which is most atheistical and detestable and\n    has no pity? Eriphyle took the necklace as the price of her\n    husband's life, but he is taking a bribe in order to compass a\n    worse ruin.\"[76]\n\n=Necessity of a Standard for Pleasure.=--If, for the moment, we rule out\nthe question of what is noble or \"kalon,\" and admit that the aim of life\nis to live pleasantly, or if, in other words, it is urged as above that\njustice is not profitable and that hence he who would seek the highest\ngood will seek it by some other than the thorny path, we must recognize\nthat the decision as to which kind of pleasure is preferable will depend\non the character of the man who judges:\n\n    \"Then we may assume that there are three classes of men,--lovers\n    of wisdom, lovers of ambition, lovers of gain? Exactly. And there\n    are three kinds of pleasure, which are their several objects?\n    Very true. Now, if you examine the three classes and ask of them\n    in turn which of their lives is pleasantest, each of them will be\n    found praising his own and deprecating that of others; the\n    money-maker will contrast the vanity of honor or of learning with\n    the solid advantages of gold and silver? True, he said. And the\n    lover of honor,--what will be his opinion? Will he not think that\n    the pleasure of riches is vulgar, while the pleasure of learning,\n    which has no need of honor, he regards as all smoke and nonsense?\n    True, he said. But may we not suppose, I said, that philosophy\n    estimates other pleasures as nothing in comparison with knowing\n    the truth, and in that abiding, ever learning, in the pursuit of\n    truth, not far indeed from the heaven of pleasure? The other\n    pleasures the philosopher disparages by calling them necessary,\n    meaning that if there were no necessity for them, he would not\n    have them. There ought to be no doubt about that, he replied.\n    Since, then, the pleasure of each class and the life of each is in\n    dispute, and the question is not which life is most honorable, or\n    better or worse, but which is the more pleasant or painless,--how\n    shall we know? I cannot tell, he said. Well, but what ought to be\n    the criterion? Is any better than experience and wisdom and\n    reason? There cannot be a better, he said. If wealth and gain were\n    the criterion, then what the lover of gain praised and blamed\n    would surely be the truest? Assuredly. Of if honor or victory or\n    courage, in that case the ambitions or contentments would decide\n    best? Clearly. But since experience and wisdom and reason are the\n    judges, the inference of course is, that the truest pleasures are\n    those which are approved by the lover of wisdom and reason.\"[77]\n\nIt is thus evident that even if we start out to find the good in\npleasure, we need some kind of measuring art. We need a \"standard for\npleasure,\" and this standard can be found only in wisdom. And this\nforces us to maintain that wisdom is after all _the_ good. Not merely\nintellectual attainment--a life of intellect without feeling would be\njust as little a true human life as would the life of an oyster, which\nhas feeling with no intelligence. A life which includes sciences and\narts, and the pure pleasures of beauty, presided over by wisdom and\nmeasure and symmetry,--this is Plato's vision of the life of the\nindividual, viewed from within.\n\n=Eudaemonism.=--Aristotle's conception of the good is fundamentally the\nsame. It is a full development of man's capacities, culminating in a\nrational and harmonious life. If, says Aristotle, we are to find the\nultimate good, we must try to find, if possible, some one end which is\npursued as an end in itself, and never as a means to something else, and\nthe most general term for this final end is \"eudaimonia,\" or well-being,\n\"for we also choose it for itself and never for the sake of something\nelse.\" What is the essence of well-being? This, according to Aristotle,\nis to be found by asking what is the function of man. The life of\nnutrition and growth man has in common with the plants; the life of\nsense in common with the animal. It is in the life of his rational\nnature that we must find his especial function. \"The good of man is\nexercise of his faculties in accordance with their appropriate\nexcellence.\" External goods are valuable because they may be instruments\ntoward such full activity. Pleasure is to be valued because it \"perfects\nthe activities, and therefore perfects life, which is the aim of human\ndesire\"--rather than valued as an end in itself. No one would choose to\nlive on condition of having a child's intellect all his life, though he\nwere to enjoy in the highest possible degree all the pleasures of a\nchild.[78]\n\n=The \"Mean.\"=--The crowning importance of wisdom as the rational measure\nof the ideal life is also illustrated in Aristotle's theory of\nexcellence (or virtue) as a \"mean\". This phrase is somewhat ambiguous,\nfor some passages would seem to indicate that it is merely striking an\naverage between two kinds of excesses, and finding, as it were, a\nmoderate amount of feeling or action; but there is evidently involved\nhere just the old thought of measure, and \"the mean is what right reason\nprescribes.\" It is not every one who can find the mean, but only he who\nhas the requisite knowledge. The supreme excellence or virtue is,\ntherefore, the wisdom which can find the true standard for action.[79]\n\n=The Wise Man.=--Finally the conception of virtue as wisdom is\nillustrated in the ideals of the three prominent schools in later Greek\nthought,--the Sceptics, Epicureans, and Stoics. The wise man among\nSceptics is he who suspends judgment where it is impossible to be\ncertain. The wise man among Epicureans is he who chooses the finest and\nsurest and most lasting pleasures. The wise man among Stoics is he who\novercomes his emotions. But in every case the ideal is expressed in the\nsame phrase, \"the wise man.\"\n\n=Man and the Cosmos.=--We see thus how Greek thought, starting out to\nchallenge all society's laws and standards and bring them to the bar of\nknowledge, has found a deeper value and higher validity in the true\nsocial and moral order. The appeal was to the Caesar of reason, and\nreason taken in its full significance carries us beyond the immediate\nand transient to the broader and more permanent good. Nor can reason in\nits search for good be content, urges Plato, with the superficial facts\nof life and society. He who would find and achieve his complete\nfunction, his full development, must broaden his horizon still further.\nAs his own particular life is but a part of the ongoing of the larger\nworld, whose forces act upon him, limit him, and determine his\npossibilities, it becomes absolutely necessary to study not merely his\nown end and purpose, but the end and purpose of the universe. Human good\nrequires us to know the larger good, _the_ Good, in the full and\ncomplete sense. And this perfect Good which is, in truth, the very\nessence of the universe, is but another term for God, and Plato often\nuses the two as interchangeable terms.\n\nSo the \"Nature\" which Greek life was seeking gets its deepest\nsignificance and reinterprets the old religious demand for unity of the\nlife of man with the forces of the unseen. And the Stoic later, in his\nmaxim \"Follow Nature,\" gives more explicit recognition to the return of\nthe circle. For the great work of Greek science had brought out into\ncomplete clearness the idea of Nature as a system of law. The universe\nis a rational universe, a cosmos, and man, as above all else a rational\nbeing, finds thus his kinship to the universe. To follow Nature,\ntherefore, means to know the all-pervading law of Nature and submit to\nit in calm acceptance or resignation.\n\n\"All is harmonious to me that is harmonious to thee, O universe; all is\nfruit to me which thy seasons bring.\"[80]\n\n\nSec. 6. THE CONCEPTION OF THE IDEAL\n\n=Contrast of Actual and Ideal.=--The two stages of Greek thought which\nwe have sketched did more than to readjust Greek life to deeper views of\nthe State and the individual; of the good and of nature. The very\nchallenge and process brought into explicit consciousness a new feature\nof the moral life, which is fundamental to true moral consciousness,\nviz., the factor of contrast between the actual and the ideal. We have\nseen that the clash of one-sided interests and political institutions\nand, in the case of Plato, the tragic execution of Socrates, obliged\nPlato and Aristotle to admit that the actual State did not subserve the\nreal purpose which they were forced to seek in social organization. Both\nPlato and Aristotle, therefore, draw the picture of a State that should\nserve the complete purposes of human development. And again, in the\nindividual life, both the conception of the development of man's highest\npossibilities and the conception of a measure or standard for the\nconflicting desires and purposes lead on to a conception which shall\nembody not merely the existing status but the goal of yet unrealized\npurpose.\n\n=The Ideal as the True Reality.=--Various qualities and aspirations are\nembodied by Plato in this conception, and with characteristic Greek\ngenius he has given to this conception of the ideal almost as concrete\nand definite a form as the Greek sculptor of Apollo gave to his ideal of\nlight and clarity, or the sculptor of Aphrodite to the conception of\ngrace. As contrasted with the flux of transient emotions, or the\nuncertain play of half-comprehended or futile goods, this ideal good is\nconceived as eternal, unchanging, ever the same. It is superhuman and\ndivine. As contrasted with various particular and partial goods on which\nthe sons of men fix their affections, it is the one universal good which\nis valid for all men everywhere and forever. In his effort to find\nsuitable imagery for this conception, Plato was aided by the religious\nconceptions of the Orphic and Pythagorean societies, which had\nemphasized the pre-existence and future existence of the soul, and its\ndistinction from the body. In its previous life, said Plato, the soul\nhas had visions of a beauty, a truth, and a goodness of which this life\naffords no adequate examples. And with this memory within it of what it\nhas looked upon before, it judges the imperfect and finite goods of this\npresent world and longs to fly away again and be with God. This thought\nof contrast between ideal and actual, to which Plato in some of his\nwritings gave the turn of a contrast between soul and body, passed on\nwith increased emphasis into Stoic and later Platonist schools, and\nfurnished a philosophic basis for the dualism and asceticism which is\nfound in Hellenistic and mediaeval morality.\n\n=Ethical Significance.=--While the true ethical contrast between the\nactual and the ideal was thus shifted over into a metaphysical contrast\nbetween soul and body, or between what is fixed and what is changing,\nthe fundamental thought is highly significant, for it merely symbolizes\nin objective form the characteristic of every moral judgment, viz., the\ntesting and valuing of an act by some standard, and what is even more\nimportant, the forming of a standard by which to do the testing. Even\nAristotle, who is frequently regarded as the mere describer of what is,\nrather than the idealistic portrayer of what ought to be, is no less\ninsistent upon the significance of the ideal. In fact, his isolation of\nreflection or _theoria_ from the civic virtues was used by the mediaeval\nchurch in its idealization of the \"contemplative life.\" Like Plato, he\nconceives the ideal as a divine element in human nature:\n\n    \"Nevertheless, instead of listening to those who advise us as men\n    and mortals not to lift our thoughts above what is human and\n    mortal, we ought rather, as far as possible, to put off our\n    mortality and make every effort to live in the exercise of the\n    highest of our faculties; for though it be but a small part of us,\n    yet in power and value it far surpasses all the rest.\"[81]\n\n\nSec. 7. THE CONCEPTION OF THE SELF; OF CHARACTER AND RESPONSIBILITY\n\n=The Poets.=--Out of the fierce competition of individual desires, the\nclashing of individual ambitions, the conflict between the individual\nand the state, and the deepening of the conception of the individual's\n\"nature,\" emerged also another conception of fundamental importance for\nthe more highly developed reflective moral life, viz., that of the moral\npersonality, its character and its responsibility. We may trace the\ndevelopment of this conception through the poets, as well as in the\nphilosophers. Aeschylus set man over against the gods, subject to their\ndivine laws, but gave little play to human character or conscious\nself-direction. With Sophocles, the tragic situation was brought more\ndirectly into the field of human character, although the conception of\ndestiny and the limitations marked thereby were still the dominant note.\nWith Euripides, human emotions and character are brought into the\nforeground. Stout-heartedness, the high spirit that can endure in\nsuffering or triumph in death, which shows not merely in his heroes but\nin the women, Polyxena and Medea, Phaedra and Iphigenia, evinces the\ngrowing consciousness of the self--a consciousness which will find\nfurther development in the proud and self-sufficient endurance of the\nStoic. In more directly ethical lines, we find increasing recognition of\nthe self in the motives which are set up for human action, and in the\nview which is formed of human character. Conscience in the earlier poets\nand moralists, was largely a compound of Nemesis, the external messenger\nand symbol of divine penalty, on the one hand, and Aidos, the sense of\nrespect or reverence for public opinion and for the higher authority of\nthe gods, on the other. But already in the tragedians we find\nsuggestions of a more intimate and personal conception. Pains sent by\nZeus in dreams may lead the individual to meditate, and thus to better\nlife. Neoptolemus, in Sophocles, says,\n\n  \"All things are noisome when a man deserts\n  His own true self and does what is not meet.\"\n\nand Philoctetes replies,\n\n  \"Have mercy on me, boy, by all the gods,\n  And do not shame thyself by tricking me.\"\n\nThe whole _Antigone_ of Sophocles is the struggle between obedience to\nthe political rulers and obedience to the higher laws which as \"laws of\nreverence\" become virtually inner laws of duty:\n\n  \"I know I please the souls I ought to please.\"\n\n=Plato.=--Here, as in the formulation of his conception of the ideal,\nreligious imagery helped Plato to find a more objective statement for\nthe conception of a moral judgment and a moral character. In the final\njudgment of the soul after death, Plato sees the real self stripped bare\nof all external adornments of beauty, rank, power, or wealth, and\nstanding as naked soul before the naked judge, to receive his just\nreward. And the very nature of this reward or penalty shows the\ndeepening conception of the self, and of the intrinsic nature of moral\ncharacter. The true penalty of injustice is not to be found in anything\nexternal, but in the very fact that the evil doers become base and\nwicked:\n\n    \"They do not know the penalty of injustice, which above all things\n    they ought to know,--not stripes and death, as they suppose, which\n    evil doers often escape, but a penalty which cannot be escaped.\n\n    THEOD. What is that?\n\n    SOC. There are two patterns set before them in nature; the one\n    blessed and divine, the other godless and wretched; and they do\n    not see, in their utter folly and infatuation, that they are\n    growing like the one and unlike the other, by reason of their evil\n    deeds; and the penalty is that they lead a life answering to the\n    pattern which they resemble.\"[82]\n\n=The Stoics.=--It is, however, in the Stoics that we find the conception\nof inner reflection reaching clearest expression. Seneca and Epictetus\nrepeat again and again the thought that the conscience is of higher\nimportance than any external judgment,--that its judgment is inevitable.\nIn these various conceptions, we see attained the third stage of Adam\nSmith's description of the formation of conscience.[83] Man who read\nhis duty at first in the judgments of his fellows, in the customs and\nlaws and codes of honor, and in the religious precepts of the gods, has\nagain come to find in gods and laws, in custom and authority, the true\nrational law of life; but it is now a law of self. Not a particular or\nindividual self, but a self which embraces within it at once the human\nand the divine. The individual has become social and has recognized\nhimself as such. The religious, social, and political judgments have\nbecome the judgments of man upon himself. \"Duty,\" what is binding or\nnecessary, takes its place as a definite moral conception.\n\n\nLITERATURE\n\nBesides the writings of Plato (especially, the _Apology_, _Crito_,\n_Protagoras_, _Gorgias_, and _Republic_), Xenophon (_Memorabilia_),\nAristotle (_Ethics_, _Politics_), Cicero (_On Ends, Laws, Duties_; _On\nthe Nature of the Gods_), Epictetus, Seneca, M. Aurelius, Plutarch, and\nthe fragments of various Stoics, Epicureans, and Sceptics, the tragedies\nof Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, and the comedies of Aristophanes\n(especially the _Clouds_) afford valuable material.\n\nAll the histories of philosophy treat the theoretical side; among them\nmay be mentioned Gomperz (_Greek Thinkers_, 1900-05), Zeller\n(_Socrates_; _Plato_; _Aristotle_; _Stoics, Epicureans, and Sceptics_),\nWindelband, Benn (_Philosophy of Greece_, 1898, chs. i., v.).\n\nOn the Moral Consciousness: Schmidt, _Ethik der alten Griechen_, 1882.\nOn the social conditions and theories: Poehlmann, _Geschichte des antiken\nKommunismus und Sozialismus_, 1893-1901; Doering, _Die Lehre des Sokrates\nals sociales Reformsystem_, 1895. On the religion: Farnell, _Cults of\nthe Greek States_, 3 vols., 1896; Rohde, _Psyche_, 1894.\n\nOn Political Conditions and Theory: Newman, Introd. to _Politics of\nAristotle_, 1887; Bradley, _Aristotle's Theory of the State in\nHellenica_; Wilamovitz-Moellendorf, _Aristotle und Athen_, 1900.\n\nOn Nature and Law of Nature: Ritchie, _Natural Rights_, 1895; Burnet,\n_Int. Journal of Ethics_, vii., 1897, pp. 328-33; Hardy, _Begriff der\nPhysis_, 1884; Voigt, _Die Lehre vom jus naturale_, 1856-75.\n\nGeneral: Denis, _Histoire des Theories et des Idees Morales dans\nl'Antiquite_, 1879; Taylor, _Ancient Ideals_, 1900; Caird, _Evolution of\nTheology in the Greek Philosophers_, 1904; Janet, _Histoire de la\nScience Politique dans ses Rapports avec la Morale_, 1887; Grote,\n_History of Greece_, 4th ed., 1872; _Plato and the Other Companions of\nSocrates_, 1888.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[64] Cf. Xenophon's account of the impressive appeal of Clearchus: \"For,\nfirst and greatest, the oaths which we have sworn by the gods forbid us\nto be enemies to each other. Whoever is conscious of having transgressed\nthese,--him I could never deem happy. For if one were at war with the\ngods, I know not with what swiftness he might flee so as to escape, or\ninto what darkness he might run, or into what stronghold he might\nretreat and find refuge. For all things are everywhere subject to the\ngods, and the gods rule all everywhere with equity.\"--_Anabasis_, II.,\nv.\n\n[65] _Republic_, I., 343.\n\n[66] _Republic_, II., 365.\n\n[67] _Republic_, II., 365.\n\n[68] _Republic_, I., 343 f.\n\n[69] Windelband, _History of Philosophy_, p. 86.\n\n[70] _Politics_, I., ii. Welldon's translation.\n\n[71] _Politics_, I., ii. Welldon's translation.\n\n[72] _Ethics_, VIII., i.; IX., vi.\n\n[73] _Republic_, V., 473.\n\n[74] _Ibid._, IX., 592.\n\n[75] _Gorgias_, 491 ff.\n\n[76] _Republic_, IX., 589 f.\n\n[77] _Republic_, IX., 581 f.\n\n[78] _Ethics_, X., ii.-iv.\n\n[79] Among the various types of excellence which Aristotle enumerates as\nexemplifying this principle, the quality of high-mindedness ([Greek:\nmegalopsychia]) is pre-eminent, and may be taken as embodying the trait\nmost prized in an Athenian gentleman. The high-minded man claims much\nand deserves much; lofty in his standard of honor and excellence he\naccepts tributes from good men as his just desert, but despises honor\nfrom ordinary men or on trivial grounds; good and evil fortune are alike\nof relatively small importance. He neither seeks nor fears danger; he is\nready to confer favors and forget injuries, slow to ask favors or cry\nfor help; fearless in his love and hatred, in his truth and his\nindependence of conduct; \"not easily moved to admiration, for nothing is\ngreat to him. He loves to possess beautiful things that bring no profit,\nrather than useful things that pay; for this is characteristic of the\nman whose resources are in himself. Further, the character of the\nhigh-minded man seems to require that his gait should be slow, his voice\ndeep, his speech measured; for a man is not likely to be in a hurry when\nthere are few things in which he is deeply interested, nor excited when\nhe holds nothing to be of very great importance; and these are the\ncauses of a high voice and rapid movements\" (_Ethics_, IV., vi.-viii.).\n\n[80] Marcus Aurelius, _Thoughts_, IV., 23.\n\n[81] _Ethics_, X., vii.\n\n[82] _Theaetetus_, 176.\n\n[83] Smith held that we (1) approve or disapprove the conduct of others;\n(2) see ourselves as others see us, judging ourselves from their\nstandpoint; (3) finally, form a true social standard, that of the\n\"impartial spectator.\" This is an inner standard--conscience.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nTHE MODERN PERIOD\n\n\nThe moral life of the modern western world differs from both Hebrew and\nGreek morality in one respect. The Hebrews and Greeks were pioneers.\nTheir leaders had to meet new situations and shape new conceptions of\nrighteousness and wisdom. Modern civilization and morality, on the other\nhand, received certain ideals and standards already worked out and\nestablished. These came to it partly through the literature of Hebrews,\nGreeks, and Latins, partly through Greek art and Roman civilization, but\nchiefly, perhaps, through two institutions: (1) Roman government and law\nembodied Stoic conceptions of a natural law of reason and of a world\nstate, a universal rational society. This not only gave the groundwork\nof government and rights to the modern world; it was a constant\ninfluence for guiding and shaping ideas of authority and justice. (2)\nThe Christian Church in its cathedrals, its cloisters, its ceremonials,\nits orders, and its doctrines had a most impressive system of standards,\nvaluations, motives, sanctions, and prescriptions for action. These were\nnot of Hebrew origin solely. Greek and Roman philosophy and political\nconceptions were fused with more primitive teaching and conduct. When\nthe Germans conquered the Empire they accepted in large measure its\ninstitutions and its religion. Modern morality, like modern\ncivilization, shows the mingled streams of Hebrew, Greek, Roman, and\nGerman or Celtic life. It contains also conceptions due to the peculiar\nindustrial, scientific, and political development of modern times. Thus\nwe have to-day such inherited standards as that of \"the honor of a\ngentleman\" side by side with the modern class standard of business\nhonesty, and the labor union ideal of class solidarity. We have the\naristocratic ideals of chivalry and charity side by side with more\ndemocratic standards of domestic and social justice. We find the\nChristian equal standard for the two sexes side by side with another\nwhich sets a high value on woman's chastity, but a trivial value on\nman's. We find a certain ideal of self-sacrifice side by side with an\nideal of \"success\" as the only good. We cannot hope to disentangle all\nthe threads that enter this variegated pattern, or rather collection of\npatterns, but we can point out certain features that at the same time\nillustrate certain general lines of development. We state first the\ngeneral attitude and ideals of the Middle Ages, and then the three lines\nalong which individualism has proceeded to the moral consciousness of\nto-day.\n\n\nSec. 1. THE MEDIAEVAL IDEALS\n\nThe mediaeval attitude toward life was determined in part by the\ncharacter of the Germanic tribes with their bold, barbaric strength and\nindomitable spirit, their clan and other group organizations, their\ncustoms or mores belonging to such a stock; and in part by the religious\nideals presented in the church. The presence of these two factors was\nmanifest in the strong contrasts everywhere present.\n\n    \"Associated with mail-clad knights whose trade is war and whose\n    delight is to combat are the men whose sacred vocation forbids the\n    use of force altogether. Through lands overspread with deeds of\n    violence, the lonely wayfarer with the staff and badge of a\n    pilgrim passes unarmed and in safety. In sight of castles, about\n    whose walls fierce battles rage, are the church and the monastery,\n    within the precincts of which quiet reigns and all violence is\n    branded as sacrilege.\"[84]\n\nThe harsh clashes of the Venus music over against the solemn strains\nfrom the Pilgrim's Chorus in Tannhaeuser might well symbolize not only\nthe specific collision of the opera but the broader range of passions\nopposed to the religious controls and values in this mediaeval society.\n\n=The Group and Class Ideal.=--The early Germans and Celts in general had\nthe clan system, the group ideals, and group virtues which belonged to\nother Aryan peoples, but the very fact of the Germanic victories shows a\nmilitary spirit which included both personal heroism and good capacity\nfor organization. Group loyalty was strong, and the group valuation of\nstrength and courage was unbounded. A high value was also set on woman's\nchastity. These qualities, particularly the loyalty to the clan and its\nhead, survived longest in Celtic peoples like the Scots and Irish who\nwere not subjected to the forces of political organization. Every reader\nof Scott is familiar with the values and defects of the type; and the\nproblems which it causes in modern democracy have been acutely described\nby Jane Addams.[85] Among the Germanic peoples, when the clan and tribal\nsystems were followed by the more thoroughgoing demarcation of classes,\nfree and serfs, lords and villains, chevalier or knight, and churl, the\nold Latin terms \"gentle\" and \"vulgar\" found a fitting application. The\nterm \"gentle\" was indeed given in one of its usages the force of the\nkindred term \"kind\" to characterize the conduct appropriate within the\nkin, but in the compound \"gentleman\" it formed one of the most\ninteresting conceptions of class morality. The \"honor\" of a gentleman\nwas determined by what the class demanded. Above all else the gentleman\nmust not show fear. He must be ready to fight at any instant to prove\nhis courage. His word must not be doubted. This seems to have been on\nthe ground that such doubt would be a refusal to take the man at his\nown estimate, rather than because of any superlative love of truth, for\nthe approved way to prove the point at issue was by fighting, not by any\ninvestigation. But the class character appears in the provision that no\ninsult from one of a lower class need be noticed. Homicide was not\ncontrary to the character and honor of a gentleman. Nor did this require\nany such standard in sex relations as a \"woman's honor\" requires of a\nwoman. In conduct toward others, the \"courtesy\" which expresses in\nceremony and manner respect for personal dignity was a fine trait. It\ndid not always prevent insolence toward inferiors, although there was in\nmany cases the feeling, _noblesse oblige_. What was needed to make this\nideal of gentleman a moral and not merely a class ideal, was that it\nshould base treatment of others on personal worth rather than on birth,\nor wealth, or race, and that it should not rate reputation for courage\nabove the value of human life. This has been in part effected, but many\ntraits of the old conception live on to-day.\n\n=The Ideal of the Church.=--The ideal of life which the church presented\ncontained two strongly contrasting elements, which have been frequently\nfound in religion and are perhaps inevitably present. On the one hand, a\nspiritual religion implies that man in comparison with God is finite,\nweak, and sinful; he should therefore be of \"a humble and contrite\nheart.\" On the other hand, as a child of God he partakes of the divine\nand is raised to infinite worth. On the one hand, the spiritual life is\nnot of this world and must be sought in renouncing its pleasures and\nlusts; on the other hand, if God is really the supreme governor of the\nuniverse, then this world also ought to be subject to his rule. In the\nmediaeval view of life, the humility and withdrawal from the world were\nassigned to the individual; the sublimity and the ruling authority to\nthe church. Ethically this distribution had somewhat the effect of\ngroup morality in that it minimized the individual and magnified the\ncorporate body of which he was a part. Asceticism and humility go hand\nin hand with the power of the hierarchy. Individual poverty--wealth of\nthe church; individual meekness and submission--unlimited power and\nauthority in the church; these antitheses reflect the fact that the\nchurch was the heir both of a kingdom of God and of a Roman Empire. The\nhumility showed itself in extreme form in the ascetic type of\nmonasticism with its vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. It was\nreflected in the art which took for its subjects the saints, conceived\nnot individually, but typically and according to tradition and\nauthority. Their thin attenuated figures showed the ideal prescribed.\nThe same humility showed itself in the intellectual sphere in the\npreeminence given to faith as compared with reason, while the mystic\nlosing himself in God showed yet another phase of individual\nrenunciation. Even charity, with which the church sought to temper the\nhardship of the time, took a form which tended to maintain or even\napplaud the dependent attitude of the recipient. So far as life for the\nindividual had a positive value, this lay not in living oneself out, but\nrather in the calm and the support afforded by the church:\n\n    \"A life in the church, for the church, through the church; a life\n    which she blessed in mass at morning and sent to peaceful rest by\n    the vesper hymn; a life which she supported by the constantly\n    recurring stimulus of the sacraments, relieving it by confession,\n    purifying it by penance, admonishing it by the presentation of\n    visible objects for contemplation and worship--this was the life\n    which they of the Middle Ages conceived of as the rightful life of\n    man; it was the actual life of many, the ideal of all.\"[86]\n\nOn the other side, the church boldly asserted the right and duty of the\ndivine to control the world,--the religious symbol of the modern\nproposition that conscience should dominate political and business\naffairs. \"No institution is apart from the authority of the church,\"\nwrote Aegidius Colonna. \"No one can legitimately possess field or vine\nexcept under its authority or by it. Heretics are not owners, but\nunjustly occupy.\" Canossa symbolized the supremacy of the spiritual over\nthe temporal power, and there is a sublime audacity, moral as well as\npolitical, in the famous Bull of Boniface VIII., \"We declare that every\nhuman creature is subject to the Roman pontiff.\"\n\nThe church as a corporate society expressed also the _community_ of its\nmembers. It was indeed no mere collection of individual believers. As a\ndivine institution, the \"body of Christ on earth,\" it gave to its\nmembers rather than received from them. It invested them with new worth,\ninstead of getting its own worth from them. Nevertheless, it was not an\nabsolute authority; it represented the union of all in a common\nfellowship, a common destiny, and a common cause against the powers of\nevil.\n\nThe massive cathedrals which remain as the monuments of the ages of\nfaith, are fitting symbols of these aspects of mediaeval life. They\ndominate their cities architecturally, as the church dominated the life\nof the ages which built them. They inspired within the worshipper, on\nthe one hand, a sense of finiteness in the presence of the sublime; on\nthe other, an elevation of soul as he became conscious of union with a\npower and presence not his own. They awed the worshiping assembly and\nunited it in a common service.\n\n\nSec. 2. MAIN LINES OF MODERN DEVELOPMENT\n\nWe have seen that the mediaeval life had two sets of standards and\nvalues: one set by the tribal codes and the instinct of a warlike\npeople; the other set by a church which required renunciation while it\nasserted control. Changes may be traced in both ideals. The group\nmorality becomes refined and broadened. The church standards are\naffected in four ways: (a) The goods of the secular life, art, family,\npower, wealth, claim a place in the system of values. (b) Human\nauthority asserts itself, at first in sovereign states with monarchs,\nthen in the growth of civil liberty and political democracy. (c) Instead\nof faith, reason asserts itself as the agency for discovering the laws\nof nature and of life. (d) As the result of the greater dignity and\nworth of the individual which is worked out in all these lines, social\nvirtue tends to lay less value on charity and more on social justice.\n\nIt must not be supposed that the movements to be outlined have resulted\nin the displacement or loss of the positive values in the religious\nideal. The morality of to-day does not ignore spiritual values; it aims\nrather to use them to give fuller meaning to all experience. It does not\nabandon law in seeking freedom, or ignore duty because it is discovered\nby reason. Above all, it is seeking to bring about in more intimate\nfashion that supremacy of the moral order in all human relations for\nwhich the church was theoretically contending. And in recent times we\nare appreciating more thoroughly that the individual cannot attain a\nfull moral life by himself. Only as he is a member of a moral society\ncan he find scope and support for full development of will. In concrete\nphrase, it is just as necessary to improve the general social\nenvironment in which men, women, and children are to live, in order to\nmake better individuals, as it is to improve the individuals in order to\nget a better society. This was a truth which the religious conception of\nsalvation through the church taught in other terms.\n\nTo follow the development of the modern moral consciousness, we shall\nrely not so much on the formal writings of moral philosophers as on\nother sources. What men value most, and what they recognize as right, is\nshown in what they work for and fight for and in how they spend their\nleisure. This is reflected more immediately in their laws, their art and\nliterature, their religion, and their educational institutions, although\nit finds ultimate expression in moral theories. The more concrete\naspects are suggested in this chapter, the theories in Chapter XII.\n\n\nSec. 3. THE OLD AND NEW IN THE BEGINNINGS OF INDIVIDUALISM\n\nAn interesting blending of the class ideal of the warrior and\n\"gentleman\" with the religious ideals of devotion to some spiritual\nservice, and of protection to the weak, is afforded by _chivalry_. The\nknights show their faith by their deeds of heroism, not by renunciation.\nBut they fight for the Holy Sepulcher, or for the weak and oppressed.\nTheir investiture is almost as solemn as that of a priest. Honor and\nlove appear as motives side by side with the quest of the Holy Grail.\nChevalier Bayard is the gallant fighter for country, but he is also the\npassionate admirer of justice, the knight _sans peur et sans reproche_.\nMoreover, the literature which embodies the ideal exhibits not only\nfeats of arms and religious symbolism. Parsifal is not a mere\nabstraction; he has life and character. \"And who will deny,\" writes\nFrancke,[87] \"that in this character Wolfram has put before us, within\nthe forms of chivalrous life, an immortal symbol of struggling, sinning,\ndespairing, but finally redeemed, humanity?\"\n\nIf chivalry represented in some degree a moralizing of the warrior\nclass, the mendicant orders represented an effort to bring religion into\nsecular life. The followers of St. Dominic and St. Francis were indeed\nascetic, but instead of maintaining the separate life of the cloister\nthey aimed to awaken a personal experience among the whole people.\nFurther, the Dominicans adopted the methods and conceptions of Greek\nphilosophy to support the doctrines of the church, instead of relying\nsolely on faith. The Franciscans on their part devoted an ecstatic type\nof piety to deeds of charity and beneficence. They aimed to overcome the\nworld rather than to withdraw from it. A bolder appeal to the\nindividual, still within the sphere of religion, was made when Wyclif\nasserted the right of every instructed man to search the Bible for\nhimself, and a strong demand for social justice found expression in\nWyclif's teaching as well as in the vision of Piers Plowman.\n\nIn the political world the growing strength of the empire sought\nlikewise a religious sanction in its claim of a divine right,\nindependent of the church. The claims of the civic life find also\nincreasing recognition with the spiritual teachers.\n\nThe State had been regarded by Augustine as a consequence of the fall of\nman, but it now comes to claim and receive a moral value: first, with\nThomas Aquinas, as the institution in which man perfects his earthly\nnature and prepares for his higher destiny in the realm of grace; then,\nwith Dante, as no longer subordinate to the church, but coordinate with\nit.\n\nFinally, the rise of the universities shows a most significant\nappearance of the modern spirit under the old sanctions. The range of\nsecular studies was limited and the subject-matter to be studied was\nchiefly the doctrine of the Fathers. The teachers who drew thousands of\neager young men about them were clerics. But the very fact that\ndialectics--the art of reasoning--was the focus of interest, shows the\ndawn of a spirit of inquiry. Such a book as Abelard's _Sic et Non_,\nwhich marshaled the opposing views of the Fathers in \"deadly parallel,\"\nwas a challenge to tradition and an assertion of reason. And it is not\nwithout significance that the same bold thinker was the first of the\nmediaeval scholars to treat ethics again as a field by itself. The title\n\"_Know Thyself_\" suggests its method. The essence of the moral act is\nplaced in the intent or resolve of the will; the criterion for judgment\nis agreement or disagreement with conscience.\n\n\nSec. 4. INDIVIDUALISM IN THE PROGRESS OF LIBERTY AND DEMOCRACY\n\n=Rights.=--It is not possible or necessary here to sketch the advance of\npolitical and civil liberty. Finding its agents sometimes in kings,\nsometimes in cities, sometimes in an aristocracy or a House of Commons,\nand sometimes in a popular uprising, it has also had as its defenders\nwith the pen, Churchmen, Protestants, and freethinkers, lawyers,\npublicists, and philosophers. All that can be done here is to indicate\nbriefly the moral significance of the movement. Some of its protagonists\nhave been actuated by conscious moral purpose. They have fought with\nsword or pen not only in the conviction that their cause was just, but\nbecause they believed it just. At other times, a king has favored a city\nto weaken the power of the nobility, or the Commons have opposed the\nking because they objected to taxation. What makes the process\nsignificant morally is that, whatever the motives actuating those who\nhave fought its battles with sword or pen, they have nearly always\nclaimed to be fighting for \"rights.\" They have professed the conviction\nthat they are engaged in a just cause. They have thus made appeal to a\nmoral standard, and in so far as they have sincerely sought to assert\nrights, they have been recognizing in some sense a social and rational\nstandard; they have been building up a moral personality. Sometimes\nindeed the rights have been claimed as a matter of \"possession\" or of\ntradition. This is to place them on the basis of customary morality. But\nin such great crises as the English Revolutions of the seventeenth\ncentury, or the French and American Revolutions of the eighteenth, some\ndeeper basis has been sought. A Milton, a Locke, a Rousseau, a\nJefferson, has but voiced the sentiments of a people in formulating an\nexplicitly moral principle. Sometimes this has taken the form of an\nappeal to God-given rights. All men are equal before God; why should one\nman assume to command another because of birth? In this sense the\nPuritans stood for liberty and democracy as part of their creed of life.\nBut often the appeal to a moral principle borrowed the conceptions of\nGreek philosophy and Roman law, and spoke of \"natural rights\" or a \"law\nof nature.\"[88]\n\n=Natural Rights.=--This conception, as we have noted, had its origin in\nGreece in the appeal from custom or convention to Nature. At first an\nappeal to the natural impulses and wants, it became with the Stoics an\nappeal to the rational order of the universe. Roman jurists found in the\nidea of such a law of nature the rational basis for the law of society.\nCicero had maintained that every man had its principles innate within\nhim. It is obvious that here was a principle with great possibilities.\nThe Roman law itself was most often used in the interest of absolutism,\nbut the idea of a natural law, and so of a natural right more\nfundamental than any human dictate, proved a powerful instrument in the\nstruggle for personal rights and equality. \"All men naturally were born\nfree,\" wrote Milton. \"To understand political power right,\" wrote Locke,\n\"and derive it from its original, we must consider what state all men\nare naturally in, and that is a state of perfect freedom to order their\nactions and dispose of their possessions and persons, as they think fit,\nwithin the bounds of the law of nature; without asking leave or\ndepending on the will of any other man. A state also of equality,\nwherein all the power and jurisdiction is reciprocal.\" These doctrines\nfound eloquent portrayal in Rousseau, and appear in the Declaration of\nIndependence of 1776. Finally, the effort to find in nature some basis\nfor independence and freedom is given a new turn by Herbert Spencer when\nhe points to the instinct for liberty in animals as well as in human\nbeings as the origin of the law of freedom.\n\nBy one of the paradoxes of history, the principle is now most often\ninvoked in favor of \"vested interests.\" \"Natural\" easily loses the force\nof an appeal to reason and to social good, and becomes merely an\nassertion of ancient usage, or precedent, or even a shelter for mere\nselfish interests. Natural rights in property may be invoked to thwart\nefforts to protect life and health. Individualism has been so successful\nin asserting rights that it is now apt to forget that there are no\nrights morally except such as express the will of a good _member of\nsociety_. But in recognizing possible excesses we need not forget the\nvalue of the idea of rights as a weapon in the struggle in which the\nmoral personality has gradually won its way. The other side of the story\nhas been the growth of responsibility. The gain in freedom has not meant\nan increase in disorder; it has been marked rather by gain in peace and\nsecurity, by an increasing respect for law, and an increasing stability\nof government. The external control of force has been replaced by the\nmoral control of duty.\n\n\nSec. 5. INDIVIDUALISM AS AFFECTED BY THE DEVELOPMENT OF INDUSTRY,\nCOMMERCE, AND ART\n\nThe development of industry, commerce, and art affects the moral life in\na variety of ways, of which three are of especial importance for our\npurpose.\n\n(1) It gives new interests, and new opportunities for individual\nactivity.\n\n(2) This raises the question of _values_. Are all the activities good,\nand shall one satisfy whatever interest appeals to him, or are some\nbetter than others?--the old question of \"kinds of happiness.\"\n\n(3) It raises further the question of sharing and distribution. How far\nmay one enjoy the goods of life in an exclusive way and how far is it\nhis duty to share with others? Do society's present methods of industry,\ncommerce, art, and education distribute these goods in a just manner?\n\nThe examination of these questions will be made in Part III. It is our\npurpose at this point merely to indicate the trend of the moral\nconsciousness with regard to them.\n\n=1. The Increasing Power and Interests of the Individual.=--Power for\nthe mediaeval man could be sought in war or in the church; interests were\ncorrespondingly limited. The Crusades, contact, through them and later\nthrough commerce, with Arabian civilization, growing acquaintance with\nthe literature and art of Greece and Rome, were effective agencies in\nstimulating the modern development. But when once started it needed but\nthe opportunities of sufficient wealth and freedom to go on. Art and\nletters have depicted a variety and richness of experience which the\nancient world did not feel. Shakspere, Rembrandt, Bunyan, Beethoven,\nGoethe, Balzac, Shelley, Byron, Hugo, Wagner, Ibsen, Thackeray, Eliot,\nTolstoy, to name almost at random, reflect a wealth of interests and\nmotives which show the range of the modern man. Commerce and the various\nlines of industry have opened new avenues for power. No one can see the\npalaces or dwellings of Venice or the old Flemish ports, or consider the\nenormous factories, shops, and office buildings of to-day, without a\nsense of the accession to human power over nature and over the\nactivities of fellow men which trade and industry have brought with\nthem. The use of money instead of a system of personal service--slavery\nor serfdom--has not only made it possible to have men's labor without\nowning the men, it has aided in a vastly more effective system than the\nolder method allowed. The industrial revolution of the past century has\nhad two causes: one the use of machinery; the other the combination of\nhuman labor which this makes possible. So far this has greatly increased\nthe power of the few leaders, but not of the many. It is the present\nproblem to make possible a larger opportunity for individual freedom and\npower.\n\n=2. The Values of Art and Industry.=--Are all these wider interests and\nfuller powers good? The church ideal and the class ideal already\ndescribed gave different answers. The class ideal of gentleman really\nexpressed a form of self-assertion, of living out one's powers fully,\nand this readily welcomed the possibilities which art and its enjoyment\nafforded.[89] The gentleman of the Renaissance, the cavalier of England,\nthe noblesse of France, were patrons of art and letters. The Romanticist\nurged that such free and full expression as art afforded was higher than\nmorality with its control and limitation. The church admitted art in the\nservice of religion, but was chary of it as an individual activity. The\nPuritans were more rigorous. Partly because they associated its churchly\nuse with what they regarded as \"idolatry,\" partly as a protest against\nthe license in manners which the freedom of art seemed to encourage,\nthey frowned upon all forms of art except sacred literature or music.\nTheir condemnation of the stage is still an element, though probably a\nlessening element, and it is not long since fiction was by many regarded\nwith suspicion. On the whole, the modern moral consciousness accepts art\nas having a place in the moral life, although it by no means follows\nthat art can be exempt from moral criticism as to its sincerity,\nhealthfulness, and perspective.\n\nIn the case of industry the church ideal has prevailed. The class ideal\nof gentleman was distinctly opposed to industry, particularly manual\nlabor. \"Arms\" or the Court was the proper profession. This was more or\nless bound up with the fact that in primitive conditions labor was\nmainly performed by women or by slaves. It was the business, the\n\"virtue\" of men to fight. So far as this class ideal was affected by the\nmodels of ancient culture, the prejudice was strengthened. The classic\ncivilization rested on slave labor. The ideal of the gentleman of Athens\nwas the free employment of leisure, not active enterprise. The church,\non the other hand, maintained both the dignity and the moral value of\nlabor. Not only the example of the Founder of Christianity and his early\ndisciples, who were for the most part manual laborers, but the intrinsic\nmoral value of work, already referred to, entered into the\nappraisal.[90] The Puritans, who have had a wide-reaching influence upon\nthe standards of the middle and lower classes of England, and upon the\nnorthern and western portions of America, were insistent upon industry,\nnot merely for the sake of its products,--they were frugal in their\nconsumption,--but as expressing a type of character. Idleness and\n\"shiftlessness\" were not merely ineffective, they were sinful. \"If any\nwill not work, neither let him eat,\" commended itself thoroughly to this\nmoral ideal. That the laborer brought something to the common weal,\nwhile the idler had to be supported, was a reenforcement to the motives\ndrawn from the relation of work to character. As the middle and lower\nclasses became increasingly influential, the very fact that they were\nlaborers and traders strengthened the religious ideal by a class motive.\nIt was natural that a laboring class should regard labor as \"honest,\"\nthough from the history of the word such a collocation of terms as\n\"honest labor\" would once have been as absurd as \"honest villain.\"[91] A\nfurther influence effective in America has been the fluidity of class\ndistinctions in a new country. The \"influence of the frontier\" has been\nall on the side of the value of work and the reprobation of idleness. At\nleast this is true for men. A certain tendency has been manifest to\nexempt women of the well-to-do classes from the necessity of labor, and\neven by training and social pressure to exclude them from the\nopportunity of work, and make of them a \"leisure class,\" but this is not\nlikely to establish itself as a permanent moral attitude. The woman will\nnot be content to live in \"The Doll's House\" while the man is in the\nreal work of the world.\n\n=3. The Distribution of the Goods of Life.=--Mediaeval society made\nprovision for both benevolence and justice. Charity, the highest of the\nvirtues, had come to mean specifically the giving of goods. The\nmonasteries relieved the poor and the infirm. Hospitals were\nestablished. The gentleman felt it to be not only a religious duty, but\na tradition of his class to be liberal. To secure justice in the\ndistribution of wealth, various restrictions were imposed. Goods were\nnot to be sold for whatever they could bring, nor was money to be loaned\nat whatever rate of interest the borrower was willing to pay. Society\naimed to find out by some means what was a \"reasonable price\" for\nproducts. In the case of manufactured goods this could be fixed by the\nopinion of fellow craftsmen. A \"common estimation,\" where buyers and\nsellers met and bargained in an open market, could be trusted to give a\nfair value. A maximum limit was set for victuals in towns. Or, again,\ncustom prescribed what should be the money equivalent for payments\nformerly made in kind, or in personal service.[92] Money-lending was\nunder especial guard. To ask interest for the use of money, provided the\nprincipal was returned intact, seemed to be taking advantage of\nanother's necessity. It was usury. Class morality added a different\nkind of restrictions. As embodied in the laws, it bound the tenants to\nthe soil and forbade the migration of laborers. The significant thing in\nthe whole mediaeval attitude was that _society attempted to control\nbusiness and industry by a moral standard_. It did not trust the\nindividual to make his own bargains or to conduct his business as he\npleased.\n\n=Modern Theory: Free Contract.=--The distinctive feature of the modern\ndevelopment has been the tendency to abandon moral restrictions and to\nsubstitute a wage system, freedom of exchange, and free contract. It was\nmaintained by the advocates of the new method that it was both more\nefficient and at least as just as the old. It was more efficient because\nit stimulated every one to make the best possible bargain. Surely every\nman is the most interested, and therefore the best promoter of his own\nwelfare. And if each is getting the best results for himself, the good\nof the whole community will be secured. For--so ran the theory, when\nindividualism had so far advanced--society is simply the aggregate of\nits members; the good of all is the sum of the goods of the members. The\nsystem also claimed to provide for justice between buyer and seller,\ncapitalist and laborer, by the agencies noticed in the next paragraph.\n\n=Competition.=--To prevent extortionate prices on the one hand, or\nunduly low prices or wages on the other, the reliance was on\n_competition_ and the general principle of supply and demand. If a baker\ncharges too high for his bread, others will set up shops and sell\ncheaper. If a money-lender asks too high interest, men will not borrow\nor will find a loan elsewhere. If a wage is too low, labor will go\nelsewhere; if too high, capital will not be able to find a profit and so\nwill not employ labor--so runs the theory. Without analyzing the moral\nvalue of the theory at this point, we notice only that, so far as it\nassumes to secure fair bargains and a just distribution, it assumes the\nparties to the free contract to be really free. This implies that they\nare upon nearly equal footing. In the days of hand work and small\nindustries this was at least a plausible assumption. But a new face was\nplaced upon the situation by the _industrial revolution_.\n\n=Problem Raised by the Industrial Revolution.=--The introduction of\nmachinery on a large scale near the end of the eighteenth century\nbrought about a change which has had extraordinary economic, social, and\nmoral effects. The revolution had two factors: (1) it used steam power\ninstead of human muscle; (2) it made possible the greater subdivision of\nlabor, and hence it made it profitable to organize large bodies of men\nunder a single direction. Both these factors contributed to an enormous\nincrease in productive power. But this increase made an overwhelming\ndifference in the status of capitalist and laborer. Without discussing\nthe question as to whether capital received more than a \"fair\" share of\nthe increased profit, it was obvious that if one \"Captain of Industry\"\nwere receiving even a small part of the profits earned by each of his\nthousand workmen, he would be immeasurably better off than any one of\nthem. Like the mounted and armored knight of the Middle Ages, or the\nbaron in his castle, he was more than a match for a multitude of poorly\nequipped footmen. There seemed to be in the nineteenth century an\nenormous disproportion between the shares of wealth which fell to\ncapitalist and to laborer. If this was the result of \"free contract,\"\nwhat further proof was necessary that \"freedom\" was a mere empty term--a\nname with no reality? For could it be supposed that a man would _freely_\nmake an agreement to work harder and longer than any slave, receiving\nscarcely the bare necessities of existence, while the other party was to\ngain enormous wealth from the bargain?\n\nThe old class morality was not disturbed by such contrasts. Even the\nreligious morality was apt to consider the distinction between rich and\npoor as divinely ordered, or else as insignificant compared with eternal\ndestiny of weal or woe. But the individualistic movements have made it\nless easy to accept either the class morality or the religious\ninterpretation. The latter lends itself equally well to a justification\nof disease because it is providentially permitted. Moreover, the old\ngroup morality and religious ideal had this in their favor: they\nrecognized an obligation of the strong to the weak, of the group for\nevery member, of master for servant. The cash basis seemed to banish all\nresponsibility, and to assert the law of \"each for himself\" as the\nsupreme law of life--except so far as individuals might mitigate\nsuffering by voluntary kindness. Economic theory seemed to show that\nwages must always tend toward a starvation level.\n\n=Sympathy.=--Such tendencies inevitably called out response from the\nsentiments of benevolence and sympathy. For the spread of civilization\nhas certainly made man more sensitive to pain, more capable of sympathy\nand of entering by imagination into the situations of others. It is\nnoteworthy that the same Adam Smith who argued so forcibly the cause of\nindividualism in trade, made sympathy the basis of his moral system.\nAdvance in sympathy has shown itself in the abolition of judicial\ntorture, in prison reform, in the improved care of the insane and\ndefective; in the increased provision for hospitals, and asylums, and in\nan innumerable multitude of organizations for relief of all sorts and\nconditions of men. Missions, aside from their distinctly ecclesiastical\naims, represent devotion of human life and of wealth to the relief of\nsickness and wretchedness, and to the education of children in all\nlands. Sympathy has even extended to the animal world. And the notable\nfact in modern sympathy and kindness, as contrasted with the mediaeval\ntype, is that the growth in individuality has demanded and evoked a\nhigher kind of benevolence. Instead of fostering dependence and\nrelieving wants, the best modern agencies aim to promote independence,\nto set the man upon his own feet and enable him to achieve self-respect.\n\"Social settlements\" have been strong factors in bringing about this\nchange of attitude.\n\n=Justice.=--Various movements looking toward greater justice in\ndistribution have likewise been called out by the conditions since the\nindustrial revolution. Naturally one reaction was to denounce the whole\nindividualistic tendency as represented in the \"cash-payment\" basis.\nThis found its most eloquent expositor in Carlyle. His _Past and\nPresent_ is a bitter indictment of a system \"in which all working horses\ncould be well fed, and innumerable workingmen should die starved\"; of a\n_laissez-faire_ theory which merely says \"impossible\" when asked to\nremedy evils supposedly due to \"economic laws\"; of a \"Mammon Gospel\"\nwhich transforms life into a mutual hostility, with its laws-of-war\nnamed \"fair competition.\" The indictment is convincing, but the remedy\nproposed--a return to strong leaders with a reestablishment of personal\nrelations--has rallied few to its support. Another reaction against\nindividualistic selfishness has taken the form of communism. Numerous\nexperiments have been made by voluntary associations to establish\nsociety on a moral basis by abolishing private property. \"These new\nassociations,\" said Owen, one of the most ardent and generous of social\nreformers, \"can scarcely be formed before it will be discovered that by\nthe most simple and easy regulations all the natural wants of human\nnature may be abundantly supplied; and the principle of selfishness will\ncease to exist for want of an adequate motive to produce it.\"\n\nIn contrast with these plans for a return to earlier conditions, the two\nmost conspicuous tendencies in the thought of the past century have\nclaimed to be advancing toward freedom and justice along the lines which\nwe have just traced. The one, which we may call \"individualistic\"\nreform, has sought justice by giving free play to individual action.\nThe other, socialism, has aimed to use the power of the State to secure\nmore adequate justice and, as it believes, a more genuine freedom. The\ngreat reform movement in Great Britain during the nineteenth century\nemphasized free trade and free contracts. It sought the causes of\ninjustice in the survival of some privilege or vested interest which\nprevents the full working of the principles of free contract and\ncompetition. Let every man \"count as one\"; make laws for \"the greatest\ngood of the greatest number.\" The trouble is not that there is too much\nindividualism, but that there is too little. Tax reformers like Henry\nGeorge have urged the same principle. If land is monopolized by a few\nwho can levy a toll upon all the rest of society, how can justice\nobtain? The remedy for injustice is to be found in promoting greater\nfreedom of industry and trade. Socialism on the other hand claims that\nindividualism defeats itself; it results in tyranny, not freedom. The\nonly way to secure freedom is through united action. The merits of some\nof these programs for social justice will be examined in Part III. They\nsignify that the age is finding its moral problem set anew by the\ncollision between material interests and social good. Greek civilization\nused the industry of the many to set free the higher life--art,\ngovernment, science--of a few. The mediaeval ideal recognized the moral\nvalue of industry in relation to character. The modern conscience,\nresting back upon a higher appreciation of human dignity and worth, is\nseeking to work out a social and economic order that shall combine both\nthe Greek and the mediaeval ideas. It will require work and secure\nfreedom. These are necessary for the individual person. But it is\nbeginning to be seen that these values cannot be divided so that one\nsocial class shall perform the labor and the other enjoy the freedom.\nThe growth of democracy means that all members of society should share\nin the value and the service of work. It means that all should share\naccording to capacity in the values of free life, of intelligence and\nculture. Can material goods be so produced and distributed as to promote\nthis democratic ideal?\n\n\nSec. 6. THE INDIVIDUAL AND THE DEVELOPMENT OF INTELLIGENCE\n\nThe development of intelligence in the modern world, as in Greece, has\ntwo sides: on the one hand, a working-free from the restrictions which\ntheology or the State or other social authorities imposed; on the other\nhand, positive progress in knowledge of nature and of human life. Under\nits first aspect it is known as the growth of rationalism; under its\nsecond aspect, as the growth of science and education. We cannot\nseparate the development into two periods, the one negative, the other\npositive, as was convenient in the case of Greece. The negative and the\npositive in the modern world have gone on contemporaneously, although\nthe emphasis has sometimes been on one side and sometimes upon the\nother. We may, however, indicate three periods as standing out with\nclearly defined characteristics.\n\n(1) The Renaissance, in which the Greek spirit of scientific inquiry\nfound a new birth; in which the discovery of new continents stimulated\nthe imagination; and in which new and more fruitful methods of\ninvestigation were devised in mathematics and the natural sciences.\n\n(2) The period of the Enlightenment, in which the negative aspect of the\nprocess reached its sharpest definition. The doctrines of revealed\nreligion and natural religion were criticised from the standpoint of\nreason. Mysteries and superstition were alike rejected. General\nintelligence made rapid progress. It was the \"Age of Reason.\"\n\n(3) The Nineteenth Century, in which both the natural and social\nsciences underwent an extraordinary development. The doctrine of\nevolution has brought a new point of view for considering the organic\nworld and human institutions. Education has come to be regarded as both\nthe necessary condition for the safety of society and as the right of\nevery human being; Science, in large measure set free from the need of\nfighting for its right to exist, is becoming constructive; it is\nassuming increasingly the duty of preserving human life and health, of\nutilizing and preserving natural resources, of directing political and\neconomic affairs.\n\n=1. The Renaissance.=--It would be giving a wrong impression to imply\nthat there was no inquiry, no use of reason in the mediaeval world. The\nproblems set by the inheritance of old-world religion and politics,\nforced themselves upon the builders of castles and cathedrals,[93] of\nlaw and of dogma. As indicated above, the universities were centers of\ndiscussion in which brilliant minds often challenged received opinions.\nMen like Roger Bacon sought to discover nature's secrets, and the great\nscholastics mastered Greek philosophy in the interest of defending the\nfaith. But theological interest limited freedom and choice of theme. It\nwas not until the expansion of the individual along the lines already\ntraced--in political freedom, in the use of the arts, in the development\nof commerce--that the purely intellectual interest such as had once\ncharacterized Greece awoke. A new world of possibilities seemed dawning\nupon the Italian Galileo, the Frenchman Descartes, the Englishman\nFrancis Bacon. The instruments of thought had been sharpened by the\ndialectics of the schools; now let them be used to analyze the world in\nwhich we live. Instead of merely observing nature Galileo applied the\nexperimental method, putting definite questions to nature and thus\npreparing the way for a progress step by step toward a positive\nknowledge of nature's laws. Descartes found in mathematics a method of\nanalysis which had never been appreciated before. What seemed the\nmysterious path of bodies in curved lines could be given a simple\nstatement in his analytic geometry. Leibniz and Newton carried this\nmethod to triumphant results in the analysis of forces. Reason appeared\nable to discover and frame the laws of the universe--the \"principles\" of\nnature. Bacon, with less of positive contribution in method, sounded\nanother note which was equally significant. The human mind is liable to\nbe clouded and hindered in its activities by certain inveterate sources\nof error. Like deceitful images or obsessions the \"idols\" of the tribe,\nof the cave, of the market, and of the theater--due to instinct or\nhabit, to language or tradition--prevent the reason from doing its best\nwork. It needs vigorous effort to free the mind from these idols. But\nthis can be done. Let man turn from metaphysics and theology to nature\nand life; let him follow reason instead of instinct or prejudice.\n\"Knowledge is power.\" Through it may rise above the kingdom of nature\nthe \"kingdom of man.\" In his _New Atlantis_, Bacon foresees a human\nsociety in which skill and invention and government shall all contribute\nto human welfare. These three notes, the experimental method, the power\nof rational analysis through mathematics, and the possibility of\ncontrolling nature in the interests of man, were characteristic of the\nperiod.\n\n=2. The Enlightenment.=--A conflict of reason with authority went on\nside by side with the progress of science. Humanists and scientists had\noften set themselves against dogma and tradition. The Reformation was\nnot in form an appeal to reason, but the clash of authorities stimulated\nmen to reasoning upon the respective claims of Catholic and Protestant.\nAnd in the eighteenth century, under the favoring influence of a broad\ntoleration and a general growth of intelligence, the conflict of reason\nwith dogma reached its culmination. The French call the period\n\"_l'Illumination_\"--the illumination of life and experience by the light\nof reason. The Germans call it the _Aufklaerung_, \"the clearing-up.\" What\nwas to be cleared up? First, ignorance, which limits the range of man's\npower and infects him with fear of the unknown; then superstition, which\nis ignorance consecrated by wont and emotion; finally, dogma, which\nusually embodies irrational elements and seeks to force them upon the\nmind by the power of authority, not of truth. Nor was it merely a\nquestion of intellectual criticism. Voltaire saw that dogma was often\nresponsible for cruelty. Ignorance meant belief in witchcraft and magic.\nFrom the dawn of civilization this had beset man's progress and quenched\nmany of the brightest geniuses of the past. It was time to put an end\nonce for all to the remnants of primitive credulity; it was time to be\nguided by the light of reason. The movement was not all negative. Using\nthe same appeal to \"nature,\" which had served so well as a rallying cry\nin the development of political rights, the protagonists of the movement\nspoke of a \"natural light\" which God had placed in man for his\nguidance--\"the candle of the Lord set up by himself in men's minds,\nwhich it is impossible for the breath or power of man wholly to\nextinguish.\" A natural and rational religion should take the place of\nsupposed revelation.\n\nBut the great achievement of the eighteenth century in the intellectual\ndevelopment of the individual was that the human mind came to realize\nthe part it was itself playing in the whole realm of science and\nconduct. Man began to look within. Whether he called his work an _Essay\nconcerning Human Understanding_, or a _Treatise of Human Nature_, or a\n_Theory of Moral Sentiments_, or a _Critique of Pure Reason_, the aim\nwas to study human experience. For of a sudden it was dawning upon man\nthat, if he was then living upon a higher level of knowledge and conduct\nthan the animal or the savage, this must be due to the activity of the\nmind. It appeared that man, not satisfied with \"nature,\" had gone on to\nbuild a new world with institutions and morality, with art and science.\nThis was no creation of instinct or habit; nor could it be explained in\nterms of sense, or feeling, or impulse alone; it was the work of that\nmore active, universal, and creative type of intelligence which we call\nreason. Man, as capable of such achievements in science and conduct,\nmust be regarded with new respect. As having political rights, freedom,\nand responsibility, man has the dignity of a citizen, sovereign as well\nas subject. As guiding and controlling his own life and that of others\nby the power of ideas, not of force, he has the dignity of a moral\nperson, a moral sovereignty. He does not merely take what nature brings;\nhe sets up ends of his own and gives them worth. In this, Kant saw the\nsupreme dignity of the human spirit.\n\n=3. The Present Significance and Task of Scientific Method.=--In the\nthought that man is able to form ends which have value for all, to set\nup standards which all respect, and thus to achieve worth and dignity in\nthe estimation of his fellows, the Individualism of the eighteenth\ncentury was already pointing beyond itself. For this meant that the\nindividual attains his highest reach only as a member of a moral\nsociety. But it is one thing to point out the need and meaning of a\nmoral society, it is another thing to bring such a society into being.\nIt has become evident during the past century that this is the central\nproblem for human reason to solve. The various social sciences,\neconomics, sociology, political science, jurisprudence, social\npsychology, have either come into being for the first time, or have been\nprosecuted with new energy. Psychology has assumed new significance as\ntheir instrument. Not that the scientific progress of the century has\nseen its greatest triumphs in these fields. The conspicuous successes\nhave been rather in such sciences as biology, or in the applications of\nscience to engineering and medicine. The social sciences have been\noccupied largely in getting their problems stated and their methods\ndefined. But the discoveries and constructions of the nineteenth century\nare none the less indispensable prerequisites for a moral society. For\nthe new conditions of city life, the new sources of disease, the new\ndangers which attend every successive step away from the life of the\nsavage, demand all the resources of the sciences.[94] And as the natural\nsciences overcome the technical difficulties which obstruct their work\nof aiding human welfare, the demand will be more insistent that the\nsocial sciences contribute their share toward enabling man to fulfil his\nmoral life. Some of the specific demands will become more evident, as we\nstudy in subsequent chapters the present problems of political,\neconomic, and family life.\n\n=Education.=--The importance for the moral life of the modern\ndevelopment of science is paralleled by the significance of modern\neducation. The universities date from the Middle Ages. The classical\ninterest of humanism found its medium in the college or \"grammar\nschool.\" The invention of printing and the growth of commerce promoted\nelementary schools. Supposed necessities of popular government\nstimulated a general educational movement in the United States. Modern\ntrade and industry have called out the technical school. Germany has\neducated for national defense and economic advance; England has\nconcerned itself preeminently for the education of statesmen and\nadministrators; and the United States for the education of voters. But,\nwhatever the motive, education has been made so general as to constitute\na new element in the modern consciousness and a new factor to be\nreckoned with. The moral right of every child to have an education,\nmeasured not by his parents' abilities, but by his own capacity, is\ngaining recognition. The moral value of a possession, which is not, like\nmaterial goods, exclusive, but common, will be more appreciated when we\nhave worked out a more social and democratic type of training.[95]\n\n=Theoretical Interpretation of this Period in Ethical Systems.=--While\nthe theoretical interpretation of this period is to be treated in Part\nII., we may point out here that the main lines of development which we\nhave traced find expression in the two systems which have been most\ninfluential during the past century. These are the systems of Kant and\nof the Utilitarians. The political and certain aspects of the\nintellectual development are reflected in the system of Kant. He\nemphasized freedom, the power and authority of reason, human dignity,\nthe supreme value of character, and the significance of a society in\nwhich every member is at once sovereign and subject. The Utilitarians\nrepresent the values brought out in the development of industry,\neducation, and the arts. They claimed that the good is happiness, and\nhappiness of the greatest number. The demands for individual\nsatisfaction and for social distribution of goods are voiced in this\nsystem.\n\n\nLITERATURE\n\nThe histories of philosophy and of ethics give the theoretical side. In\naddition to those previously mentioned the works of Hoeffding,\nFalckenberg, and Fischer may be named. Stephen, _English Thought in the\nEighteenth Century_, and _The Utilitarians_; Fichte, _Characteristics of\nthe Present Age_ (in _Popular Works_, tr. by Smith); Stein, _Die sociale\nFrage im Lichte der Philosophie_, 1897; Comte, _Positive Philosophy_,\ntr. by Martineau, 1875, Book VI. Tufts and Thompson, _The Individual and\nHis Relation to Society as Reflected in British Ethics_, 1896, 1904;\nMerz, _History of European Thought in the 19th Century_, 1904;\nRobertson, _A Short History of Free Thought_, 1899; Bonar, _Philosophy\nand Political Economy in Some of Their Historical Relations_, 1893.\n\nON THE MEDIAEVAL AND RENAISSANCE ATTITUDE: Lecky, _History of European\nMorals_, 3rd ed., 1877; Adams, _Civilization during the Middle Ages_,\n1895; Rashdall, _The Universities of Europe in the Middle Ages_, 1895;\nEicken, _Geschichte und System der mittelalterlichen Weltanschauung_,\n1877; Burckhardt, _The Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy_, 1892;\nDraper, _History of the Intellectual Development of Europe_, 1876.\n\nON THE INDUSTRIAL AND SOCIAL SIDE: Ashley, _English Economic History_;\nCunningham, _Western Civilization in Its Economic Aspects_, 1900; and\n_Growth of English Industry and Commerce_, 3rd ed., 1896-1903; Hobson,\n_The Evolution of Modern Capitalism_, 1894; Traill, _Social England_,\n1894; Rambaud, _Histoire de Civilization Francaise_, 1897; Held, _Zwei\nBuecher zur socialen Geschichte Englands_, 1881; Carlyle, _Past and\nPresent_; Ziegler, _Die Geistigen und socialen Stroemungen des\nneunzehnten Jahrhunderts_, 1901.\n\nON THE POLITICAL AND JURAL DEVELOPMENT: Hadley, _Freedom and\nResponsibility in the Evolution of Democratic Government_, 1903;\nPollock, _The Expansion of the Common Law_, 1904; Ritchie, _Natural\nRights_, 1895; _Darwin and Hegel_, 1893, ch. vii.; Dicey, _Lectures on\nthe Relation of Law and Public Opinion in England during the Nineteenth\nCentury_, 1905.\n\nON THE LITERARY SIDE: Brandes, _The Main Currents in the Literature of\nthe Nineteenth Century_, 1905; Francke, _Social Forces in German\nLiterature_, 1895; Carriere, _Die Kunst im Zusammenhang der\nCulturentwicklung und die Ideale der Menschheit_, 3rd ed., 1877-86.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[84] Fisher, _History of the Christian Church_, p. 227.\n\n[85] _Democracy and Social Ethics_, pp. 222-77; _Newer Ideals of Peace_,\nch. v.\n\n[86] Bryce, _Holy Roman Empire_, p. 367.\n\n[87] _Social Forces in German Literature_, p. 93.\n\n[88] Pp. 130 f., 136.\n\n[89] Tolstoy, _What is Art?_\n\n[90] P. 40.\n\n[91] See p. 176.\n\n[92] Cunningham, _An Essay on Western Civilization_, pp. 77 ff.\n\n[93] The writer is indebted to his colleague Professor Mead for the\nsignificance of this for the beginnings of modern science.\n\n[94] \"Civilized man has proceeded so far in his interference with\nextra-human nature, has produced for himself and the living organisms\nassociated with him such a special state of things by his rebellion\nagainst natural selection and his defiance of Nature's prehuman\ndispositions, that he must either go on and acquire firmer control of\nthe conditions or perish miserably by the vengeance certain to fall on\nthe half-hearted meddler in great affairs.... We may think of him as the\nheir to a vast and magnificent kingdom who has been finally educated so\nas to fit him to take possession of his property, and is at length left\nalone to do his best; he has wilfully abrogated, in many important\nrespects, the laws of his Mother Nature by which the kingdom was\nhitherto governed; he has gained some power and advantage by so doing,\nbut is threatened on every hand by dangers and disasters hitherto\nrestrained: no retreat is possible--his only hope is to control, as he\nknows that he can, the sources of these dangers and disasters. They\nalready make him wince: how long will he sit listening to the\nfairy-tales of his boyhood and shrink from manhood's task?\"--RAY\nLANKESTER, _The Kingdom of Man_, 1907, pp. 31 f.\n\n[95] John Dewey, _The School and Society_.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nA GENERAL COMPARISON OF CUSTOMARY AND REFLECTIVE MORALITY\n\n\nTo eat of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil may\nresult in ultimate gain. A more conscious and individualistic attitude\nmay result in definite conceptions of duty and rights, of values and\nideals. At the same time, as humanity's eyes have been opened and its\nwisdom increased, many forms of nakedness unknown in ruder conditions\nhave been disclosed. With every increase of opportunity and efficiency\nfor good there is a corresponding opportunity for evil. An immensely\nmore complex environment gives scope for correspondingly more capable\nand subtle personalities. Some will react to the situation in such a way\nas to rise to a higher moral level, both in personal integrity and in\npublic usefulness. Others will find in facilities for gratifying some\nappetite or passion a temptation too strong for their control and will\nbecome vicious, or will seize the chances to exploit others and become\nunjust in their acquirement and use of power and wealth. There will be a\nNero as well as an Aurelius, a Caesar Borgia as well as a Savonarola, a\nJeffreys as well as a Sidney, a Bentham, or a Howard. For an Eliot or a\nLivingston or an Armstrong, there are the exploiters of lower races; and\nfor an Elizabeth Fry, the women who trade in the wretchedness of their\nkind. By the side of those who use great abilities and resources\nunselfishly are those who view indifferently the sacrifice of human\nhealth or life, and pay no heed to human misery. Such contrasts show\nthat the \"evolution of morality\" is also an evolution of weakness,\nwretchedness, evil, and crime. They suggest some general comparisons\nbetween custom and reflective morality. They require from every age a\nrenewed analysis of conduct and the social system. As a preliminary to\nsuch an analysis, we review in this chapter some of the general\nrelations between the morality of custom and the morality of reflection.\n\n\nSec. 1. ELEMENTS OF AGREEMENT AND CONTINUITY\n\nThe moral life shows its continuity in two ways. First, the earlier type\nof group and customary morality persists in part; in the second place,\nwhen the moral is differentiated from the other spheres of life in which\nit was embedded, it does not have to find entirely new conceptions. It\nborrows its terms from the group life or from the various spheres,\nreligious, political, aesthetic, economic, which separate out from the\nolder group unity.\n\nThe following quotation from Grote will serve as a vivid restatement of\nthe regime of custom:\n\n    \"This aggregate of beliefs and predispositions to believe,\n    Ethical, Religious, Aesthetical, and Social, respecting what is\n    true or false, probable or improbable, just or unjust, holy or\n    unholy, honorable or base, respectable or contemptible, pure or\n    impure, beautiful or ugly, decent or indecent, obligatory to do or\n    obligatory to avoid, respecting the status and relations of each\n    individual in the society, respecting even the admissible fashions\n    of amusement and recreation--this is an established fact and\n    condition of things, the real origin of which is for the most part\n    unknown, but which each new member of the group is born to and\n    finds subsisting.... It becomes a part of each person's nature, a\n    standing habit of mind, or fixed set of mental tendencies,\n    according to which particular experience is interpreted and\n    particular persons appreciated.... The community hate, despise or\n    deride any individual member who proclaims his dissent from their\n    social creed.... Their hatred manifests itself in different ways\n    ... at the very least by exclusion from that amount of\n    forbearance, good will and estimation without which the life of\n    an individual becomes insupportable.... 'Nomos (Law and Custom),\n    king of all' (to borrow the phrase which Herodotus cites from\n    Pindar) exercises plenary power, spiritual and temporal, over\n    individual minds; moulding the emotions as well as the intellect,\n    according to the local type ... and reigning under the appearance\n    of habitual, self-suggested tendencies.\"[96]\n\nThe important facts brought out are (1) the existence in a social group\nof certain habits not only of acting, but of feeling and believing about\nactions, of valuing or approving and disapproving. (2) The persistent\nforcing of these mental habitudes upon the attention of each new member\nof the group. The newcomer, whether by birth or adoption, is introduced\ninto a social medium whose conditions and regulations he can no more\nescape than he can those of his physical environment. (3) Thus the\nmental and practical habits of the newly introduced individual are\nshaped. The current ways of esteeming and behaving in the community\nbecome a \"standing habit\" of his own mind; they finally reign as\n\"habitual, self-suggested tendencies.\" Thus he becomes a full member of\nthe social group, interested in the social fabric to which he belongs,\nand ready to do his part in maintaining it.\n\n=1. Persistence of Group Morality.=--Comparing this state of affairs\nwith what obtains to-day in civilized communities, we find certain\nobvious points of agreement. The social groups with which an individual\ncomes in touch are now more numerous and more loosely formed. But\neverywhere there are customs not only of acting, but of thinking and\nfeeling about acting. Each profession, each institution, has a _code_ of\nwhich the individual has to take account. The nature of this code,\nunexpressed as well as formulated, is brought to the attention of the\nindividual in countless ways; by the approval and disapproval of its\npublic opinion; by his own failures and successes; by his own tendency\nto imitate what he sees about him, as well as by deliberate, intentional\ninstruction.\n\nIn other words, group morality does not vanish in order that conscious\nand personal morality may take its place. Group and customary morality\nis still the morality of many of us most of the time, and of all of us\nfor a good deal of the time. We do not any of us think out all of our\nstandards, weigh independently our values, make all our choices in a\nrational manner, or form our characters by following a clearly conceived\npurpose. As children we all start in a family group. We continue in a\nschool group and perhaps a church group. We enter an occupation group,\nand later, it may be, family, political, social, and neighborhood\ngroups. In every one of these if we are members, we must to a certain\ndegree accept standards that are given. We have to play according to the\nrules of the game. As children we do this unconsciously. We imitate, or\nfollow suggestions; we are made to conform by all the agencies of group\nmorality--group opinion, ritual, pleasure and pain, and even by\ntaboos;[97] above all, we act as the others act, and cooperate more or\nless to a common end. We form habits which persist, many of them as long\nas we live. We accept many of the traditions without challenge. Even\nwhen we pass from the early family group to the new situations and\nsurroundings which make us repeat more or less of the experience of the\nrace, a large share of our conduct and of our judgments of others is\ndetermined by the influences of group and custom. And it is fortunate\nfor progress that this is true. If every one had to start anew to frame\nall his ideals and make his laws, we should be in as melancholy a plight\nmorally as we should be intellectually if we had to build each science\nanew. The fundamental safeguards which the group provides against\nindividual impulse and passion, the condition of close association,\ninterdependence and mutual sympathy which the group affords, the\nhabituation to certain lines of conduct valued by the group--all this is\na root on which the stem and flower of personal morality may grow.\nIndividualism and intellectual activity, however necessary to man's\nprogress, would give no morality did they not start out of this deeper\nlevel of common feeling and common destiny. The rational and personal\nagencies of the \"third level\" come not to destroy, but to fulfill the\nmeaning of the forces and agencies of the first and second levels\ndescribed in Chapters III and IV.\n\n=2. The Moral Conceptions.=--The conceptions for the moral are nearly\nall taken from the group relations or from the jural and religious\naspects, as these have been gradually brought to clearer consciousness.\nAs already noted, the Greek term \"ethical,\" the Latin \"moral,\" the\nGerman \"_sittlich_,\" suggest this--_ethos_ meant the \"sum of the\ncharacteristic usages, ideas, standards, and codes by which a group was\ndifferentiated and individualized in character from other groups.\"[98]\n\nSome specific moral terms come directly from group relations. The \"kind\"\nman acts as one of the kin. When the ruling or privileged group is\ncontrasted with the man of no family or of inferior birth, we get a\nlarge number of terms implying \"superiority\" or \"inferiority\" in birth,\nand so of general value. This may or may not be due to some inherent\nsuperiority of the upper class, but it means at least that the upper\nclass has been most effectual in shaping language and standards of\napproval. So \"noble\" and \"gentle\" referred to birth before they had\nmoral value; \"duty\" in modern usage seems to have been principally what\nwas due to a superior. Many words for moral disapproval are very\nsignificant of class feeling. The \"caitiff\" was a captive, and the\nItalians have their general term for morally bad, \"_cattivo_,\" from the\nsame idea. The \"villain\" was a feudal tenant, the \"blackguard\" looked\nafter the kettles, the \"rascal\" was one of the common herd, the \"knave\"\nwas the servant; the \"base\" and \"mean\" were opposed to the gentle and\nnoble. Another set of conceptions reflects the old group _approvals_ or\ncombines these with conceptions of birth. We have noted the twofold root\nof _kalokagathia_ in Greek. \"Honor\" and \"honesty\" were what the group\nadmired, and conversely \"_aischros_\" and \"_turpe_\" in Greek and Latin,\nlike the English \"disgraceful\" or \"shameful,\" were what the group\ncondemned. \"Virtue\" was the manly excellence which called out the praise\nof a warlike time, while one of the Greek terms for morally bad\noriginally meant cowardly, and our \"scoundrel\" has possibly the same\norigin. The \"bad\" was probably the weak or the womanish. The economic\nappears in \"merit,\" what I have earned, and likewise in \"duty\" and\n\"ought,\" what is due or owed--though duty seems to have made itself felt\nespecially, as noted above, toward a superior. Forethought and skill in\npractical affairs provided the conception of \"wisdom,\" which was highest\nof the virtues for the Greeks, and as \"prudence\" stood high in mediaeval\nsystems. The conception of valuing and thus of forming some permanent\nstandard of a better and a worse, is also aided, if not created, by\neconomic exchange. It appears in almost identical terms in Plato and the\nNew Testament in the challenge, \"What shall it profit a man if he gain\nthe whole world and lose his own life?\"[99] From the processes of fine\nor useful arts came probably the conceptions of measure, order, and\nharmony. A whole mode of considering the moral life is jural. \"Moral\nlaw,\" \"authority,\" \"obligation,\" \"responsibility,\" \"justice,\"\n\"righteousness,\" bring with them the associations of group control and\nof the more definitely organized government and law. Finally the last\nnamed terms bear also a religious imprint, and numerous conceptions of\nthe moral come from that sphere or get their specific flavor from\nreligious usage. The conceptions of the \"soul\" have contributed to the\nideal of a good which is permanent, and which is made rather by personal\ncompanionship, than by sensuous gratification. \"Purity\" began as a\nmagical and religious idea; it came to symbolize not only freedom from\ncontamination but singleness of purpose. \"Chastity\" lends a religious\nsacredness to a virtue which had its roots largely in the conception of\nproperty. \"Wicked\" is from witch.\n\nWe have indeed certain conceptions drawn from individual experiences of\ninstinct, or reflection. From the sense recoil from what was disgusting\nsuch conceptions as \"foul,\" and from kindred imagery of what suits eye\nor muscular sense come \"straightforward,\" \"upright,\" \"steady.\" From the\nthinking process itself we have \"conscience.\" This word in Greek and\nLatin was a general term for consciousness and suggests one of the\ndistinctive, perhaps the most distinctive characteristic of the moral.\nFor it implies a \"conscious\" thoughtful attitude, which operates not\nonly in forming purposes, but in measuring and valuing action by the\nstandards it approves. But it is evident that by far the larger part of\nour ethical terms are derived from social relations in the broad sense.\n\n\nSec. 2. ELEMENTS OF CONTRAST\n\n=Differentiation of the Moral.=--The most obvious difference between the\npresent and the early attitude is that we now make a clear distinction\nbetween the moral aspect of behavior and other aspects such as the\nconventional, the political, the legal; while in customary morality all\nactivities esteemed by society were put upon the same level and enforced\nwith the same vigor. Matters which we should regard as purely matters of\nfashion or etiquette, or as modes of amusement, such as styles of\nwearing the hair, were imperative. To mutilate the body in a certain way\nwas as exigent as to observe certain marriage customs; to refrain from\nspeaking to the mother-in-law as binding as to obey the chieftain; not\nto step over the shadow of the chief was even more important than not to\nmurder the member of another tribe. In general we make a clear\ndistinction between \"manners\" and morals, while in customary morality\nmanners _are_ morals, as the very words \"ethical,\" \"moral\" still\ntestify.\n\nWhen Grote speaks of \"Ethical, Religious, Aesthetical, and Social\"\nbeliefs, the term \"ethical\" belongs with the other terms only from a\nmodern standpoint. The characteristic thing about the condition of which\nhe is speaking is that the \"religious, aesthetical, and social\" beliefs\nbrought to bear upon the individual _constitute_ the ethical. We make\nthe distinction between them as naturally as the regime of custom failed\nto make it. Only by imagining a social set in which failure to observe\npunctiliously the fashions of the set as to the proper style of dress\nmakes the person subject to a disparagement which influences his\nfeelings and ideas as keenly _and in the same way_ as conviction of\nmoral delinquency, can we realize the frame of mind characteristic of\nthe ethics of custom.\n\n=Observing versus Reflecting.=--Customs may be \"observed.\" Indeed,\ncustomary morality made goodness or rightness of character practically\nidentical with observing the established order of social estimations in\nall departments. This word _observe_ is significant: it means to note,\nor notice as matter of fact, by perception; and it means to yield\nallegiance, to conform to, in action.[100] The element of intelligence,\nof reason, is thus reduced to a minimum. The moral values are _there_,\nso to speak, palpably, tangibly; and the individual has only to use his\nmind enough to notice them. And since they are forced upon his notice by\ndrastic and unrelaxing methods of discipline, little initiative is\nrequired for even the attitude of attention. But when the moral is\nsomething which is in customs and habits, rather than those customs\nthemselves, the good and right do not stand out in so obvious and\nexternal fashion. Recognition now demands thought, reflection; the power\nof abstraction and generalization. A child may be shown in a pretty\ndirect and physical fashion the difference between _meum_ and _tuum_ in\nits bearing upon his conduct: a fence may be pointed at which divides\nhis yard from that of a neighbor and which draws as well the moral line\nbetween what is permissible and what is forbidden; a whipping may\nintensify the observation. But modern business knows also of\n\"intangible\" property--good will, reputation, credit. These, indeed, can\nbe bought and sold but the detection of their existence and nature\ndemands an intelligence which is more than perception. The greater\nnumber of duties and rights of which present morality consists are of\njust this type. They are relations, not just outward habits. Their\nacknowledgment requires accordingly something more than just to follow\nand reproduce existing customs. It involves power to see _why_ certain\nhabits are to be followed, what _makes_ a thing good or bad.\n_Conscience_ is thus substituted for _custom_; _principles_ take the\nplace of external _rules_.\n\nThis is what we mean by calling present morality reflective rather than\ncustomary. It is not that social customs have ceased to be, or even have\nbeen reduced in number. The exact contrary is the case. It is not that\nthey have shrunk in importance, or that they have less significance for\nthe individual's activity, or claim less of his attention. Again, the\nreverse is the case. But the individual has to grasp the _meaning_ of\nthese customs over and above the bare fact of their existence, and has\nto guide himself by their _meaning_ and not by the mere fact noted.[101]\n\n=Custom is Static.=--This difference introduces a second very important\ndifference. In customary morality, there is no choice between being\nenmeshed in the net of social rules which control activity, and being an\noutlaw--one beyond the pale, whose hand is against every man's, and\nevery man's against him. The extent to which social customs are regarded\nas of divine origin and are placed under the protection of the gods,\ni.e., the tendency of all sanctions to become religious and\nsupernatural, is evidence of the binding force of institutions upon the\nindividual. To violate them is impiety, sacrilege, and calls down the\nwrath of gods, as well as of men. The custom cannot be questioned. To\ninquire means uncertainty, and hence it is immoral, an attack upon the\nvery foundations of the life of the group. The apparent exception, which\nafter all exhibits the rule, is the case of great reforming heroes who\ndemarcate epochs of history even in customary societies. Such\nindividuals meet contemporary opposition and persecution; it is only by\nvictory, by signal success over a rival faction at home, over plague and\nfamine, or over an enemy abroad, that the hero is justified. Thereby it\nis proved that the gods are with him and sanction his changes--indeed\nthat he is their own chosen instrument. Then the modified or new customs\nand institutions have all the binding sacredness and supernatural\nsanction of the old. It is not yet an outgrown story for the fathers to\nkill the prophets, and for the sons to build and adorn their tombs, and\nmake them into shrines.\n\n=Reflection Discovers a Higher Law.=--But in so far as the individual's\nactivity is directed by his comprehension of the _meaning_ of customs,\nnot by his apprehension of their _existence_, so far the notion of moral\nprogress or reform in social affairs becomes ethically important and\ngreater moral responsibility is put upon the individual just as greater\npractical freedom is secured to him. For (a) the individual may set the\nmeaning of a custom _against_ its present form; or (b) he may find the\nmeaning of some custom much more commanding in value than that of\nothers, and yet find that its realization is hindered by the existence\nof these other customs of less moral importance. On the basis of such\ndiscrimination, the abolition or, at least, the modification of certain\nsocial habits is demanded. So far as this sort of situation frequently\nrecurs, the individual (c) becomes more or less vaguely aware that he\n_must not accept the current standard_ as justification of his own\nconduct, unless _it also_ justify itself to his own moral intelligence.\nThe fact that it exists gives it indeed a certain _prima facie_ claim,\nbut no ultimate moral warrant. Perhaps the custom is itself wrong--and\nthe individual is responsible for bearing this possibility in mind.\n\n=Consequent Transformation of Custom.=--Of course the plane of customary\nmorality still persists; no wholesale divergence of reflective from\ncustomary morality exists. Practically, for example, many business men\ndo not bother themselves about the morality of certain ways of doing\nbusiness. Such and such is the custom of the trade, and if a man is\ngoing to do business at all he must follow its customs--or get out. Law,\nmedicine, the ministry, journalism, family life, present, in\nconsiderable extent, the same phenomenon. Customary morality persists,\nalmost as the core of present morality. But there is still a difference.\nA few, at least, are actively engaged in a moral criticism of the\ncustom, in a demand for its transformation; and almost everybody is\nsufficiently affected by the discussions and agitations thus called out\nto have some lingering and uneasy idea of responsibility for his part in\nthe maintenance of a questionable custom. The duty of some exercise of\ndiscriminating intelligence as to existing customs for the sake of\nimprovement and progress, is thus a mark of reflective morality--of the\nregime of conscience as over against custom. In the morally more\nadvanced members of contemporary society, the need of fostering a habit\nof examination and judgment, of keeping the mind open, sensitive, to the\ndefects and the excellences of the existing social order is recognized\nas obligation. To reflect on one's own behavior in relation to the\nexisting order is a standing habit of mind.\n\n=Deepening of Meaning.=--While the materials and conceptions of more\nconscious morality are provided by the earlier stages, and taken from\nother spheres of life, we find that these conceptions naturally undergo\na deepening of meaning when they are used to express the more intimate\nand personal attitude. Take, for example, the conceptions borrowed from\nthe jural sphere. It is in the school of government and courts that man\nhas learned to talk and think of right and law, of responsibility and\njustice. To make these moral instead of jural terms, the first thing\nthat is needed is that we make the whole process an inward one. The\nperson must himself set up a standard, recognize it as \"law,\" judge his\nconduct by it, hold himself responsible to himself, and seek to do\njustice. It takes several persons to carry on these processes in the\nrealm of government. Legislators, judges, jury, executive officers, all\nrepresent the State, organized society. That a single person can be\nhimself lawgiver, judge, and jury, as well as claimant or defendant,\nshows that he is himself a complex being. He is a being of passions,\nappetites, and individual interests, but he is also a being who has a\nrational and social nature. As a member of society he not only feels his\nindividual interest but recognizes social interests. As a rational\nbeing he not only feels the thrill of passion but responds to the\nauthority of a law and obeys the voice of duty. Like a member of a\ndemocratic State he finds himself in the sphere of conduct, not only a\nsubject but a sovereign, and feels the dignity of a _person_. A\nconscientious person is in so far one who has made the law of God or man\nan inward law of life--a \"moral law.\" But the act of making the process\ninward makes possible a deepening of meaning. Governments and courts are\nnecessarily limited in purview and fallible in decisions. They are\nsometimes too lenient, sometimes too severe. Conscience implies a\nknowledge of the whole act--purpose, motive, and deed. Its authority\nmakes claim for absolute obedience. The laws of the State are felt to be\nbinding just because they are believed to be, on the whole, right and\njust as measured by this moral court of appeal. When they conflict, the\npower may be with the political sovereign, but the man whose conscience\nis clear believes that he follows a \"higher law.\" Much of the great\nliterature of the world draws its interest from its portrayal of this\nfundamental fact of human experience. \"Two things fill the mind with\never new and increasing admiration and awe, the oftener and the more\nsteadily we reflect on them: the starry heavens above and the moral law\nwithin.\"\n\nThe conceptions taken from the economic sphere show similar deepening.\nIn the economic world things are good or have value if people want them.\nIt is in the experience of satisfying wants that man has learned the\nlanguage of \"good and evil,\" and to compare one good with another; it is\ndoubtless by the progress of science and the arts that objective\nstandards of more permanent, rational, and social \"goods\" are provided.\nWhen this term is taken up to a higher level and given moral meaning,\ntwo new factors appear. First the individual begins to consider his\nvarious goods and values in relation to each other and to his life as a\nwhole. In the second place, in thus comparing the various goods and the\ndesires they satisfy, he begins to realize that in some way he is\nhimself more than the mere sum of his natural instincts and appetites.\nHe finds that he can take an interest in certain things, and is not\nmerely passive. He _gives_ value as well as measures it. He feels that\nas such an active and organizing judge and creator of value, he himself\nhas a higher worth than any of the particular things that gratify\nparticular desires. \"A man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the\nthings that he possesseth.\" \"The life is more than meat.\" Or, to use the\nphrase which will be explained later, moral good implies purpose,\ncharacter, \"good will.\" In common language, it implies being, and not\nmerely having.\n\nThe term good where used in our judgments upon others (as in a \"good\"\nman), may have a different history. As has been noted, it may come from\nclass feeling, or from the praise we give to acts as they immediately\nplease. It may be akin to noble or fine or admirable. All such\nconceptions undergo a similar transformation as they pass from the\nsphere of class or public opinion to become moral terms. As moral they\nimply in the first place that we consider not merely outward acts, but\ninward purpose and character. They imply in the second place that we who\njudge are ourselves acting not as members of a class, not as merely\nemotional beings, but as social and rational. Our moral judgments in\nthis sense are from a general, a universal standard; those of a class\nare partial.\n\n\nSec. 3. OPPOSITION BETWEEN INDIVIDUAL AND SOCIAL AIMS AND STANDARDS\n\n=Withdrawal from the Social Order.=--The development of reflection tends\nto set up a moral opposition between the individual and society.\nSometimes \"conscience\" goes beyond the need of criticizing, of\ndiscriminating, of interpreting social customs, of following their\nspirit rather than their letter; it takes the form of an assertion of a\npurely inner, personal morality, so distinct from the conditions of\nsocial life that the latter are conceived to be totally lacking in\npositive moral significance. The prescriptions of morality are thought\nto be revealed in conscience, as a faculty of pure intuition or\nrevelation, receiving neither material nor warrant from social\nconditions. The distinction already spoken of between the moral and the\neconomic, legal, or conventional, is conceived as a complete separation;\ncustoms and institutions are external, indifferent, irrelevant, or even\nhostile to the ideal and personally perceived demands of morality. Such\na conception of morality is especially likely to arise in a period when\nthrough the clash of ways and standards of living, all customs, except\nthose maintained by force and authority, are disintegrating or relaxing.\nSuch a state existed in the early years of the Roman empire when, for\nthe first time in history, local boundaries were systematically\noverstepped; when the empire was a seething mixture of alien and unlike\ngods, beliefs, ideals, standards, practices. In the almost universal\nflux and confusion, _external_ order was maintained by the crystallized\nlegislation and administration of Rome; but personal aims and modes of\nbehavior had to be ascertained by the individual thrown back upon\nhimself. Christian, Stoic, Epicurean, alike found the political order\nwholly external to the moral, or in chronic opposition to it. There was\na withdrawal into the region of personal consciousness. In some cases\nthe withdrawal was pushed to the point where men felt that they could be\ntruly righteous only by going by themselves into the desert, to live as\nhermits; or by forming separate communities of those who agreed in their\nconceptions of life; mental and moral aloofness from prevailing social\nstandards and habitudes was preached by all.\n\n=Individual Emancipation.=--In other cases, what takes place is a\nconsciousness of liberation; of assertion of personal rights and\nprivileges, claims for new modes of activity and new kinds of enjoyment.\nThe individual feels that he is his own end; that the impulses and\ncapacities which he finds in himself are sacred, and afford the only\ngenuine law for his behavior; that whatever restricts the full exercise\nof these personal powers and hampers the satisfaction of personal\ndesires is coercive and morally abnormal. Existing social institutions\nmay be practically necessary, but they are morally undesirable; they are\nto be used, or got around in the interests of personal gratifications.\nAs some feel that social conditions are hostile to the realization of\nthe highest moral _obligations_, so others feel that they are hostile to\nthe full possession of their _rights_, of that to which they are\nproperly entitled.\n\n=Eventual Transformation of Social Values and Aims.=--In extreme cases,\nthe individual may come to believe that, either on the basis of his true\nobligations or his true rights, the very principle of society is morally\nindifferent or even unworthy; that the moral life is eventually or\nintrinsically an individual matter, although it happens to be outwardly\nled under social conditions. But in the main the opposition is not to\nthe social relations as such, but to existing institutions and customs\nas inadequate. Then the reaction of the individual against the existing\nsocial scheme, whether on the ground of ideals too high to be supported\nby it or on the ground of personal claims to which it does not afford\nfree play, becomes a means to the reconstruction and transformation of\nsocial habits. In this way, _reflective morality is a mark of a\nprogressive society, just as customary morality is of a stationary\nsociety_. Reflection on values is the method of their modification.\n\nThe monastic Christian in his outward withdrawal from social life, still\nmaintained the conception of a perfected society, of a kingdom of God or\nHeaven to be established. This ideal became to some extent the working\nmethod for changing the existing order. The Stoics, who held in light\nesteem existing community ties, had the conception of a universal\ncommunity, a cosmopolis, ruled by universal law, of which every rational\nbeing was a member and subject. This notion became operative to some\nextent in the development of judicial and administrative systems much\nmore generalized and equitable than the purely local customs, laws, and\nstandards which it swept away. The Epicurean had the ideal of friendship\non the basis of which were formed groups of congenial associates held\ntogether neither by legal ties, nor by universal laws of reason, nor by\nunity of religious aspiration and belief, but by friendship and\ncompanionable intercourse. Thus were afforded other centers of social\nreconstruction.\n\n\nSec. 4. EFFECTS UPON THE INDIVIDUAL CHARACTER\n\n=General Effects.=--The characteristic differences which have been\npointed out in the preceding section, when taken together with the\nspecific conditions of change--liberty of action and thought, incentives\nto private acquisition, facilities for power and pleasure--enable us to\nunderstand the contrasts referred to at the opening of the chapter. We\nhave, on the one hand, the inbred craving for power, for acquisition,\nfor excitement, for gratification of sense and appetite, enhanced by\nwhat it feeds on. We have, on the other hand, the progressive\ndifferentiation of the moral, tearing the individual loose from the\nbonds of the external moral order and forcing him to stand on his own\nfeet--or fall. Note how each of the points brought out in the preceding\nsection operates.\n\n(1) To separate out the moral as a distinct element from certain spheres\nof life, allows the less seriously minded and the less sympathetic\nindividuals to live complacently a trivial or unscrupulous life.\nFashion, \"social duties,\" amusements, \"culture\" emptied of all earnest\nmeaning, \"business\" and \"politics\" divorced from any humane or public\nconsiderations, may be regarded as justifiable vocations. A \"gentleman\"\nwho no longer has the occupation of his fighting predecessors as an\nexcuse for a distinct type of life, may find the support of a large\nleisure class in declining any useful service to the community and\ndevoting himself to \"sport\"; a \"lady\" may be so engaged by the\nmultifarious demands of \"society\" as never to notice what an utterly\nworthless round she follows.\n\n(2) The fact that the morality of conscience requires reflection,\nprogress, and a deeper meaning for its conception, makes it obvious why\nmany fail to grasp any moral meaning at all. They fail to put forth the\neffort, or to break with habit. Under customary morality it was enough\nto \"observe\" and to continue in the mores. It requires a higher degree\nof insight and a greater initiative to get any moral attitude at all\nwhen the forms have become mere forms and the habits mere habits. Hence\nwhen a change in personal environment or in general social and economic\nconditions comes, many fail to see the principles involved. They remain\ncompletely satisfied with the \"old-fashioned virtues\" or intrench\nthemselves in the \"righteousness\" and \"honesty\" of a past generation.\nThis habitual and \"painless\" morality will often mean a \"virtue\" or\n\"righteousness\" which involves no conflict with present conditions. A\nman who feels honest because he does not break contracts or defraud in\nold-fashioned ways, may be quite at ease about watering stock or\nadulterating goods. A society which abhors murder with iron and\nexplosives in the form of daggers and bombs, may feel quite unconcerned\nabout the preventable homicides by iron machinery, or by explosives used\nin coal mines.\n\n(3) The conflict with society which reflective morality requires, works\nto thrust some below the general level, while it raises others above it.\nTo criticize the general moral order may make a man a prophet, but it\nmay also make him a Pharisee. Practical reaction may make reformers, but\nit is likely to make another set of men dissolute; to make them feel\nsuperior to the morality of \"Philistines\" and therefore exempt from\nsocial restraints.\n\n=Vices Incident to Reflective Stage.=--The vices increase with\ncivilization, partly because of increased opportunity, partly because of\nincreased looseness in social restraint. There is a further element.\nWhen any activity of man is cut off from its original and natural\nrelations and made the object of special attention and pursuit, the\nwhole adjustment is thrown out of balance. What was before a useful\nfunction becomes pathological. The craving for excitement or stimulation\nis normal within certain limits. In the chase or the battle, in the\nventure of the explorer or the merchant, it functions as a healthy\nincentive. When isolated as an end in itself, taken out of the objective\nsocial situation, it becomes the spring of gambling or drunkenness. The\ninstincts and emotions of sex, possessing power and interest\nnecessitated by their place in the continuance of the race, become when\nisolated the spring of passion or of obscenity or lubricity. Avarice and\ngluttony illustrate the same law. The gladiatorial shows at Rome became\nbase and cowardly when the Romans were themselves no longer\nfighters.[102] Even the aspiration for what is higher and better may\nbecome an \"otherworldliness\" which leaves this world to its misery and\nevil. Such a series of pictures as Balzac has given in his _Comedie\nHumaine_, shows better than any labored description the possibilities of\nmodern civilization.\n\nThere is, moreover, in civilized society a further most demoralizing\nagency unknown to earlier life. As the vices are specialized and pursued\nthey become economic and political interests. Vast capital is invested\nin the business of ministering to the vicious appetites. It is\npecuniarily desirable that these appetites should be stimulated as\ngreatly as possible. It makes \"business.\" The tribute levied by public\nofficials upon the illegal pursuits forms a vast fund for carrying\nelections. The multitude engaged in the traffic or dependent upon it for\nfavors, can be relied upon to cast their votes as a unit for men who\nwill guarantee protection.\n\n=Relations to Fellow Men.=--The motives and occasions for selfishness\nand injustice have been indicated sufficiently perhaps in preceding\nchapters. As the general process of increasing individuality and\nreflection goes on, it is an increasingly easy matter to be indifferent\nor even unjust. When all lead a common life it is easy to enter into the\nsituation of another, to appreciate his motives, his needs, and in\ngeneral to \"put yourself in his place.\" The external nature of the\nconduct makes it easy to hold all to a common standard. The game must be\nshared; the property--so far as there is property--respected; the\nreligious rites observed. But when standards becomes more inward the\nmore intelligent or rigorous may find sympathy less easy. When they\nattempt to be \"charitable\" they may easily become condescending. The\npure will not soil their skirts by contact with the fallen. The\n\"high-minded citizen\" refuses to mix in politics. The scholar thinks the\nbusiness man materialistic. The man of breeding, wealth, and education\nfinds the uneducated laborer lacking in courtesy and refinement and\nargues that it is useless to waste sympathy upon the \"masses.\" The class\nterms which have become moral terms are illustrations of this attitude.\nFinally, the moral process of building up freedom and right easily leads\nto a disposition to stand on rights and let other persons look out for\nthemselves. Kant's doctrine, that since all morality is personal I can\ndo nothing to promote my neighbor's perfection, is a _laissez faire_ in\nethics which he did not carry out, but it is a not unnatural corollary\nof reflective morality. \"Am I my brother's keeper?\" is much more likely\nto be the language of reflective, than of customary and group life.\n\n=Reconstructive Forces.=--We have dwelt at length upon the\ndisintegrating forces, not because civilization necessarily grows worse,\nbut because, having pointed out in earlier chapters the positive\nadvances, it becomes necessary to allude also to the other aspect of the\nprocess. Otherwise it might appear that there is no problem. If the\nevolution were supposed to be all in one direction there would be no\nseriousness in life. It is only in the pressure of constantly new\ndifficulties and evils that moral character adds new fiber, and moral\nprogress emerges. Individualism, self-seeking, and desire for property\nforce the establishment of governments and courts which protect poor as\nwell as rich. Luxury and ostentation have not only called out the\nasceticism which renounces the world and sees in all gratification of\nappetite an evil; they have brought into the fore the serious meaning of\nlife; they have served to emphasize the demand for social justice. The\ncountless voluntary associations for the relief of sickness, misfortune,\nand poverty; for aiding the defective, dependent, and criminal; for\npromoting numberless good causes--enlist a multitude in friendly\nco-operation. The rising demand for legislation to embody the new\nsentiments of justice is part of the process of reconstruction. And now\nwhen all the arts and goods of civilization are becoming more and more\nfully the work, not of any individual's labor or skill, but rather of\nthe combined labor and intelligence of many, when life in cities is\nnecessitating greater interdependence, finally when contrasts in\nconditions are brought more forcibly to notice by the very progress of\nknowledge and the means of knowledge,--the more thoroughly social use of\nall that civilization produces becomes more insistent and compelling. It\nis not a matter of sentiment but of necessity. If any one is disposed to\ndeny the claim, it becomes increasingly certain that Carlyle's Irish\nwidow will prove her sisterhood by infecting the denier with fever;[103]\nthat the ignorant, or criminal, or miserable will jeopardize his\nhappiness.\n\n\nSec. 5. MORAL DIFFERENTIATION AND THE SOCIAL ORDER\n\nTwo processes went on side by side in the movement we have traced. (1)\nThe primitive group, which was at once a kinship or family, an economic,\na political, a religious, an educational, and a moral unit, was broken\ndown and replaced by several distinct institutions, each with its own\nspecial character. (2) The moral, which was so largely unreflective that\nit could be embodied in every custom and observance, became more\npersonal and subjective. The result of this was either that the moral\nwas now more consciously and voluntarily _put into_ the social\nrelations, thereby raising them all to a higher moral level, or that,\nfailing such a leavening of the distinct spheres of the social order,\nthe latter were emptied of moral value and lost moral restraints. We\nnotice very briefly certain illustrations of this, leaving a fuller\ntreatment for Part III.\n\n=The Family.=--When the family was largely determined by status, when it\nwas an economic, a political, and a religious unit, it had a strong\nsupport. But the support was largely external to the true purpose and\nmeaning of the family. Only as these other elements were separated, and\nthe family placed on a voluntary basis, could its true significance\nemerge. Affection and mutual supplementation of husband and wife, love\nand devotion to offspring, must stand the strains formerly distributed\nover several ties. The best types of family life which have resulted\nfrom this more moral basis are unquestionably far superior to the older\nform. At the same time the difficulties and perversion or subversion of\nthe more voluntary type are manifest. When no personal attachment was\nsought or professed, or when marriage by purchase was the approved\ncustom, the marriage contracted under these conditions might have all\nthe value which the general state of intelligence and civilization\nallowed. When the essential feature which hallows the union has come to\nbe recognized as a union of will and affection, then marriage without\nthese, however \"solemnized,\" almost inevitably means moral degradation.\nAnd if the consent of the parties is regarded as the basis of the tie,\nthen it is difficult to make sure that this \"consent\" has within it\nenough of steadfast, well-considered purpose and of emotional depth to\ntake the place of all the older sanctions and to secure permanent\nunions. The more complete responsibility for the children which has been\ngained by the separation of the family, has also proved susceptible of\nabuse as well as of service. For while savages have often practiced\ninfanticide for economic reasons, it is doubtful if any savage family\never equaled the more refined selfishness and cruelty of the child\nlabor which modern families have furnished and modern society has\npermitted.\n\n=The Economic and Industrial.=--The economic lost powerful restraints\nwhen it became a separate activity divorced from family, religious, and,\nin the view of some, from moral considerations. It has worked out\ncertain important moral necessities of its own. Honesty, the keeping of\ncontracts, the steadiness and continuity of character fostered by\neconomic relations, are important contributions. Modern business, for\nexample, is the most effective agency in securing sobriety. It is far\nmore efficient than \"temperance societies.\" Other values of the economic\nand industrial process--the increase of production, the interchange of\nservices and goods, the new means of happiness afforded by the increase\nof wealth--are obvious. On the other hand, the honesty required by\nbusiness is a most technical and peculiarly limited sort. It does not\ninterfere with adulteration of goods under certain conditions, nor with\ncorrupt bargains with public officials. The measurement of values on a\npurely pecuniary basis tends to release a large sphere of activity from\nany moral restraints. The maxim \"Business is business\" may be made the\nsanction for any kind of conduct not excluded by commercial standards.\nUnless there is a constant injection of moral valuation and control,\nthere is a tendency to subvert all other ends and standards to the\npurely economic.\n\n=Law and Government.=--To remove these functions from the kinship group\nas such, is at once to bring the important principles of authority and\nduty, and gradually of rights and freedom, to consciousness. Only by\nsuch separation could the universality and impartiality of law be\nestablished. And only by universality can the judgment of the society as\na whole be guaranteed its execution as over against the variations in\nintelligence and right purpose of individual rulers and judges.\nMoreover, the separation of law from morality has likewise its gain or\nloss. On the one hand, to separate off a definite sphere of external\nacts to which alone physical constraints or penalties may attach, is at\nonce to free a great sphere of inner thought and purpose and to enable\npurely psychical values and restraints to attain far greater power in\nconduct. Liberty of thought and religious belief, sincerity and thorough\nresponsibility, require such a separation. It is also to make possible a\ngeneral law which rises above the conscience of the lower even if it\ndoes not always reach the level of the most enlightened and just. To\nmake a command a \"universal law\" is itself a steadying and elevating\ninfluence, and it is only by a measure of abstraction from the\nindividual, inner aspect of conduct that this can be achieved. On the\nother hand, the not infrequent contrast between law and justice, the\nsubstitution of technicality for substantials, the conservatism which\nmade Voltaire characterize lawyers as the \"conservators of ancient\nbarbarous usages,\" above all the success with which law has been used to\nsanction or even facilitate nearly every form of oppression, extortion,\nclass advantage, or even judicial murder, is a constant attestation of\nthe twofold possibilities inherent in all institutions. Government in\nother functions exhibits similar possibilities. At first it was tyranny\nagainst which the subject had to defend himself. Now it is rather the\nuse of political machinery for private gain. \"Eternal vigilance\" is the\nprice not only of freedom, but of every moral value.\n\n=The Religious Life.=--When freed from interdependence with kinship,\neconomic, and political association, religion has an opportunity to\nbecome more personal and more universal. When a man's religious attitude\nis not fixed by birth, when worship is not so closely bound up with\neconomic interests, when there is not only religious \"toleration,\" but\nreligious liberty, the significance of religion as a personal, spiritual\nrelation comes to view. The kinship tie is sublimated into a conception\nof divine fatherhood. It becomes credible that Job does serve God \"for\nnaught.\" Faith and purity of heart are not secured by magistrates or\nlaws.\n\nAnd the universality of religion is no less a gain. So far as religion\nwas of the group it tended to emphasize the boundary between Jew and\nGentile, Greek and Barbarian, between the \"we-group\" and the\n\"others-group.\" But when this group religion gave place to a more\nuniversal religion, the kingdom of Israel could give place to the\nkingdom of God; brotherhood could transcend family or national lines. In\nthe fierce struggles of the Middle Ages the church was a powerful agency\nfor restraining the powerful and softening the feuds of hostile clans\nand peoples. The \"peace of God\" was not only a symbol of a far-off\nideal, but an actual relief. The universality might indeed be sought by\nforce in a crusade of Christian against Moslem, or in the horror of a\nthirty years' war between Catholic and Protestant. But as the conception\nof religion as a spiritual relation becomes clearer, the tendency must\ninevitably be to disclose religion as essentially a unifying rather than\na divisive and discordant force. If any religion becomes universal it\nwill be because of its universal appeal. And so far as it does make\nuniversal appeal, like science, like art, it invites its followers.\n\nThe differentiation of the moral from the religious is often difficult\nto trace. For the religious has often been the agency through which\ncertain of the characteristics of the moral have been brought about. The\ninward and voluntary aspect of the moral, as compared with the verdicts\nof law or public opinion, has been emphasized. But this is often\ndeveloped by the religious conceptions of an all-seeing God, an all-wise\njudge. \"Man looketh on the outer appearance, but the Lord looketh upon\nthe heart\" has its literary parallels in Xenophon and Plato and\nShakspere. The distinction between higher and lower values has received\nits most impressive symbol in the conception of \"another world,\" in\nwhich there is neither pain nor sin, but eternal blessedness and eternal\nlife. Ideals of character, when embodied in divine persons, command\nlove, reverence, and devotion in supreme degree. A society in which love\nand justice are the law of life has seemed more possible, more potent to\ninspire sacrifice and enthusiasm, when envisaged as the Kingdom of God.\nBut in all these illustrations we have, not the religious as distinct\nfrom the moral, but the religious as modified by the moral and embodying\nthe moral in concrete examples and imagery. We can see the two possible\ntypes of development, however, in the concrete instances of the Hebrews\nand the Greeks. In Israel religion was able to take up the moral ideals\nand become itself more completely ethical. The prophets of religion were\nat the same time the moral reformers. But in Greece, in spite of the\nefforts of some of the great poets, the religious conceptions for the\nmost part remained set and hence became superstition, or emotional orgy,\nor ecstasy, while the moral found a distinct path of its own. Religion\nat present is confronting the problem of whether it will be able to take\nup into itself the newer ethical values--the scientific spirit which\nseeks truth, the enhanced value of human worth which demands higher\ntypes of social justice.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA brief characterization of the respective standpoints of religion and\nmorality may be added, as they both aim to control and give value to\nhuman conduct. The religious has always implied some relation of man's\nlife to unseen powers or to the cosmos. The relation may be the social\nrelation of kin or friend or companion, the political of subject to a\nsovereign, the cosmic relation of dependence, or that of seeking in the\ndivine completer meaning or more perfect fulfillment for what is\nfragmentary and imperfect. In its aspect of \"faith\" it holds all these\nideals of power, wisdom, goodness, justice, to be real and effective.\nThe moral, on the other hand, concerns itself, not with unseen beings or\ncosmic reality, but with human purposes and the relations of a man to\nhis fellows. For religion, conscience may be the \"voice of God\"; for\nmorality, it must be stated in terms of thought and feeling. The \"moral\nlaw\" must be viewed as a law which is capable of being approved, at\nleast--and this implies that it may also be criticized--by the mind. The\ndifference which religion states as a choice between \"God and mammon,\"\nbetween heaven and earth, morality must state in terms of good and evil,\nright and wrong, ideal interests and natural appetites. Instead of\nregarding its standards as laws established once for all by a divine\nauthority, morality seeks to reach _principles_. Instead of embodying\nits ideals in persons, the moral seeks to reshape them continually. It\nis for religion to hold that \"God reigns,\" and therefore \"All's right\nwith the world.\" The moral as such must be continually overcoming evil,\ncontinually working out ideals into conduct, and changing the natural\norder into a more rational and social order.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[96] Grote, _Plato and the Other Companions of Sokrates_, Vol. I., p.\n249.\n\n[97] Nearly every railway journey or other occasion for observing family\ndiscipline discloses the prevalence of this agency of savage morality.\n\"If you are not quiet I'll give you to the conductor,\" \"the black man\nwill get you,\" \"Santa Claus will not give presents to naughty children.\"\nThat persons who in many respects are kindly and decent should aim to\ncultivate morality by a system of deliberate lying and more or less\nbrutal cruelty is one of the interesting phenomena of education. The\nsavages who used taboos believed what they said.\n\n[98] Sumner, _Folkways_, p. 36.\n\n[99] Plato's wording is given on p. 132.\n\n[100] \"Recognition\" has the same double sense. So has \"acknowledgment,\"\nwith greater emphasis upon rendering allegiance in action.\n\n[101] Logically, this means that intelligence works conceptually, not\nperceptually alone.\n\n[102] Sumner, _Folkways_, p. 570.\n\n[103] \"One of Dr. Alison's Scotch facts struck us much. A poor Irish\nWidow, her husband having died in one of the Lanes of Edinburgh, went\nforth with her three children, bare of all resources, to solicit help\nfrom the Charitable Establishments of that City. At this Charitable\nEstablishment and then at that she was refused; referred from one to the\nother, helped by none; till she had exhausted them all; till her\nstrength and heart failed her; she sank down in typhus-fever; died, and\ninfected her Lane with fever, so that 'seventeen other persons' died of\nfever there in consequence.... The forlorn Irish Widow applies to her\nfellow creatures, as if saying, 'Behold I am sinking, bare of help; ye\nmust help me! I am your sister, bone of your bone; one God made us; ye\nmust help me.' They answer, 'No, impossible; thou art no sister of\nours.' But she proves her sisterhood; her typhus fever kills _them_:\"\n(_Past and Present_, Book III., ch. ii.)\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nPART II\n\nTHEORY OF THE MORAL LIFE\n\n\nGENERAL LITERATURE FOR PART II\n\nAmong the works which have had the most influence upon the development\nof the theory of morals are: Plato, dialogues entitled _Republic, Laws_,\n_Protagoras_ and _Gorgias_; Aristotle, _Ethics_; Cicero, _De Finibus_\nand _De Officiis_; Marcus Aurelius, _Meditations_; Epictetus,\n_Conversations_; Lucretius, _De Rerum Natura_; St. Thomas Aquinas\n(selected and translated by Rickaby under title of _Aquinas Ethicus_);\nHobbes, _Leviathan_; Spinoza, _Ethics_; Shaftesbury, _Characteristics_,\nand _Inquiry concerning Virtue_; Hutcheson, _System of Moral\nPhilosophy_; Butler, _Sermons_; Hume, _Essays, Principles of Morals_;\nAdam Smith, _Theory of Moral Sentiments_; Bentham, _Principles of Morals\nand Legislation_; Kant, _Critique of Practical Reason_, and _Foundations\nof the Metaphysics of Ethics_; Comte, Social Physics (in his _Course of\nPositive Philosophy_); Mill, _Utilitarianism_; Spencer, _Principles of\nEthics_; Green, _Prolegomena to Ethics_; Sidgwick, _Methods of Ethics_;\nSelby-Bigge, _British Moralists_, 2 vols. (a convenient collection of\nselections). For contemporary treatises, and histories consult the\nliterature referred to in ch. i. of Part I.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nTHE MORAL SITUATION\n\n\n=Object of Part Two and of Present Chapter.=--From the history of\nmorals, we turn to the theoretical analysis of reflective morality. We\nare concerned to discover (1) just what in conduct it is that we judge\ngood and evil, right and wrong (conduct being a complicated thing); (2)\nwhat we mean by good and evil, right and wrong; (3) on what basis we\napply these conceptions to their appropriate objects in conduct. But\nbefore we attempt these questions, we must detect and identify the\n_moral situation_, the situation in which considerations of good and\nevil, right and wrong, present themselves and are employed. For some\nsituations we employ the ideas of true and false; of beautiful and ugly;\nof skilful and awkward; of economical and wasteful, etc. We may indeed\napply the terms right and wrong to these same situations; but if so, it\nis to them in some other light. What then are the differentiating\ntraits, the special earmarks, presented by the situation which we\nidentify as distinctively moral? For we use the term moral in a broad\nsense to designate that which is either moral or immoral: i.e., right or\nwrong in the narrower sense. It is the moral situation in the broad\nsense as distinct from the non-moral, not from the immoral, that we are\nnow concerned with.\n\n=The Moral Situation Involves Voluntary Activity.=--It will be admitted\non all hands that the moral situation is one which, whatever else it may\nor may not be, involves a voluntary factor. Some of the chief traits of\nvoluntary activity we have already become acquainted with, as in the\naccount by Aristotle, already noted (_ante_, p. 12). The agent must know\nwhat he is about; he must have some idea of what he is doing; he must\nnot be a somnambulist, or an imbecile, or insane, or an infant so\nimmature as to have no idea of what he is doing. He must also have some\nwish, some desire, some preference in the matter. A man overpowered by\nsuperior force might be physically compelled by some ingenious device to\nshoot a gun at another, knowing what he was doing, but his act would not\nbe voluntary because he had no choice in the matter, or rather because\nhis preference was not to do the act which he is aware he is doing. But\nif he is ordered to kill another and told if he does not he will himself\nbe killed, he has _some_ will in the matter. He may do the deed, not\nbecause he likes it or wishes it in itself, but because he wishes to\nsave his own life. The attendant circumstances may affect our judgment\nof the kind and degree of morality attaching to the act; but they do not\ntake it entirely out of the moral sphere.[104] Aristotle says the act\nmust also be the expression of a disposition (a habit or [Greek:\nhexis]), a more or less settled tendency on the part of the person. It\nmust bear some relation to his character. Character is not, we may say,\na third factor, It is making clear what is implied in deliberation and\nwish. There may be little deliberation in a child's act and little in an\nadult's, and yet we may regard the latter as much more voluntary than\nthe child's. With the child, the thought is superficial and casual,\nbecause of the restricted stage of organization or growth reached (see\np. 10): his act flows from organic instinct or from accidental\ncircumstances--whim, caprice, and chance suggestion, or fancy. The\nadult's act may flow from habitual tendencies and be accompanied by an\nequally small amount of conscious reflection. But the tendencies\nthemselves are the outcome of prior deliberations and choices which have\nfinally got funded into more or less automatic habits. The child's act\nis to a slight extent the expression of character; the adult's to a\nlarge extent. In short, we mean by character whatever lies behind an act\nin the way of deliberation and desire, whether these processes be\nnear-by or remote.\n\n=Not Everything Voluntary is Morally Judged.=--A voluntary act may then\nbe defined as one _which manifests character_, the test of its presence\nbeing the presence of desire and deliberation; these sometimes being\npresent directly and immediately, sometimes indirectly and remotely\nthrough their effects upon the agent's standing habits. But we do not\njudge all voluntary activity from the moral standpoint. Some acts we\njudge from the standpoint of skill or awkwardness; others as amusing or\nboring; others as stupid or highly intelligent, and so on. We do not\nbring to bear the conceptions of right and wrong. And on the other hand,\nthere are many things called good and bad which are not voluntary. Since\nwhat we are in search of must lie somewhere between these two limits, we\nmay begin with cases of the latter sort.\n\n_(1) Not Everything Judged Good or Right is Moral._--We speak, for\nexample, of an ill-wind; of a good engine; of a watch being wrong; or of\na screw being set right. We speak of good and bad bread, money, or soil.\nThat is, from the standpoint of value, we judge things as _means_ to\ncertain results in themselves desirable or undesirable. A \"good\" machine\ndoes efficiently the work for which it is designed; \"bad\" money does not\nsubserve the ends which money is meant to promote; the watch that is\nwrong comes short of telling us time correctly. We have to use the\nnotion of value and of contribution to value; that is a positive\nfactor. But this contribution to valuable result is not, in inanimate\nobjects, something meant or intended by the things themselves. If we\nthought the ill-wind had an idea of its own destructive effect and took\npleasure in that idea, we should attribute moral quality to it--just as\nmen did in early times, and so tried to influence its behavior in order\nto make it \"good.\" Among things that promote favorable or unfavorable\nresults a line is drawn between those which just do so as matter of\nfact, and those in which meaning so to do, or intention, plays a part.\n\n=(2) Good in Animal Conduct.=--Let us now consider the case of good and\nbad animal conduct. We speak of a good watch-dog; of a bad saddle-horse,\nand the like. Moreover, we _train_ the dog and the horse to the right or\ndesired kind of action. We make, we repair the watch; but we do not\n_train_ it. Training involves a new factor: enlistment of the animal's\ntendencies; of its own conscious attitudes and reactions. We pet, we\nreward by feeding, we punish and threaten. By these means we induce\nanimals to exercise in ways that form the habits we want. We modify the\nanimal's behavior by modifying its own impulses. But we do not give\nmoral significance to the good and bad, for we are still thinking of\nmeans to ends. We do not suppose that we have succeeded in supplying the\nhunting dog, for example, with _ideas_ that certain results are more\nexcellent than others, so that henceforth he acts on the basis of his\nown discrimination of the less and the more valuable. We just induce\ncertain habits by managing to make certain ways of acting _feel_ more\nagreeable than do others. Thus James says: \"Whether the dog has the\nnotion of your being angry or of your property being valuable in any\nsuch abstract way as _we_ have these notions, is more than doubtful. The\nconduct is more likely an impulsive result of a conspiracy of outward\nstimuli; the beast _feels like_ acting so when these stimuli are\npresent, though conscious of no definite reason why\"[105]\n(_Psychology_, Vol. II., p. 350, note). Or putting it the other way: if\nthe dog has an idea of the results of guarding the house, and is\ncontrolled in what he does by loyalty to this idea, by the satisfaction\nwhich he takes in it, then in calling the dog good we mean that in being\ngood for a certain result, he is also morally good.\n\n=(3) Non-moral Human Acts.=--There are also acts evoked by an idea of\nvalue in the results to be reached, which are not judged as coming\nwithin the moral sphere. \"Conduct is three-fourths of life,\" but in some\nsense it is more: it is four-fourths. All conscious human life is\nconcerned with ends, and with selecting, arranging, and employing the\nmeans, intellectual, emotional, and practical, involved in these ends.\nThis makes _conduct_. But it does not follow that all conduct has\n_moral_ import. \"As currently conceived, stirring the fire, reading a\nnewspaper, or eating a meal, are acts with which morality has no\nconcern. Opening the window to air the room, putting on an overcoat when\nthe weather is cold, are thought of as having no ethical significance.\nThese, however, are all portions of conduct\" (Spencer, _Principles of\nEthics_, Vol. I., p. 5). They all involve the idea of some result worth\nreaching, and the putting forth of energy to reach the result--of\nintelligently selected and adapted means. But this may leave the act\nmorally indifferent--innocent.\n\n=Introduction of Moral Factor.=--A further quotation from Spencer may\nintroduce discussion of the needed moral qualification:\n\n    \"As already said, a large part of the ordinary conduct is\n    indifferent. Shall I walk to the water fall today? or, shall I\n    ramble along the sea shore? Here the ends are ethically\n    indifferent. If I go to the water fall, shall I go over the moor\n    or take the path through the wood? Here the means are ethically\n    indifferent.... But if a friend who is with me has explored the\n    sea shore, but has not seen the water fall, the choice of one or\n    other end is no longer ethically indifferent. Again, if a probable\n    result of making the one excursion rather than the other, is that\n    I shall not be back in time to keep an appointment, or if taking\n    the longer route entails this risk while the shorter does not, the\n    decision in favor of one end or means acquires in another way an\n    ethical character\" (Spencer, _Principles of Ethics_, pp. 5-6).\n\nThis illustration suggests two differing types of conduct; two differing\nways in which activity is induced and guided by ideas of valuable\nresults. In one case the end presents itself directly as desirable, and\nthe question is only as to the steps or means of achieving this end.\nHere we have conduct which, although excited and directed by\nconsiderations of value, is still morally indifferent. Such is the\ncondition of things _wherever one end is taken for granted by itself\nwithout any consideration of its relationship to other ends_. It is then\na technical rather than a moral affair. It is a question of taste and of\nskill--of personal preference and of practical wisdom, or of economy,\nexpediency. There are many different roads to most results, and the\nselection of this path rather than that, on the assumption that either\npath actually leads to the end, is an intellectual, aesthetic, or\nexecutive, rather than an ethical matter. I may happen to prefer a\nmarine view to that of the uplands--that is an aesthetic interest. I may\nwish to utilize the time of the walk for thinking, and may find the moor\npath less distracting; here is a matter of intellectual economy. Or I\nmay conclude that I shall best get the exercise I want by going to the\nwater fall. Here it is a question of \"prudence,\" of expediency, or\npractical wisdom. Let any one of the ends, aesthetic, intellectual,\nhygienic, stand alone and it is a fit and proper consideration. The\nmoral issue does not arise. Or the various ends may be regarded as means\nto a further unquestioned end--say a walk with the maximum of combined\naesthetic interest and physical exercise.\n\n=(4) Criterion for Moral Factor.=--But let the value of one proposed end\nbe felt to be really incompatible with that of another, let it be felt\nto be so opposed as to appeal to a different kind of interest and\nchoice, in other words, to different kinds of disposition and agency,\nand we have a moral situation. This is what occurs when one way of\ntraveling means self-indulgence; another, kindliness or keeping an\nengagement. There is no longer one end, nor two ends so homogeneous that\nthey may be reconciled by both being used as means to some more general\nend of undisputed worth. We have alternative ends so heterogeneous that\nchoice has to be made; an end has to be developed out of conflict. The\nproblem now becomes what _is_ really valuable. It is the _nature_ of the\nvaluable, of the desirable, that the individual has to pass upon.[106]\n\nSuppose a person has unhesitatingly accepted an end, has acquiesced in\nsome suggested purpose. Then, starting to realize it, he finds the\naffair not so simple. He is led to review the matter and to consider\nwhat really constitutes worth for him. The process of attainment calls\nfor toil which is disagreeable, and imposes restraints and abandonments\nof accustomed enjoyments. An Indian boy, for example, thinks it\ndesirable to be a good rider, a skilful shot, a sagacious scout. Then he\n\"naturally,\" as we say, disposes of his time and energy so as to realize\nhis purpose. But in trying to become a \"brave,\" he finds that he has to\nsubmit to deprivation and hardship, to forego other enjoyments and\nundergo arduous toil. He finds that the end does not mean in actual\nrealization what it meant in original contemplation--something that\noften happens, for, as Goldsmith said: \"In the first place, we cook the\ndish to our own appetite; in the latter, nature cooks it for us.\"\n\nThis change in apparent worth raises a new question: Is the aim first\nset up of the value it seemed to be? Is it, after all, so important, so\ndesirable? Are not other results, playing with other boys, convivial\ncompanionship, which are reached more easily and pleasantly, really more\nvaluable? The labors and pains connected with the means employed to\nreach an end, have thrown another and incompatible end into\nconsciousness. The individual no longer \"naturally,\" but \"morally,\"\nfollows the selected end, whichever of the two it be, because it has\nbeen chosen after conscious valuation of competing aims.\n\nSuch competitions of values for the position of control of action are\ninevitable accompaniments of individual conduct, whether in civilized or\nin tribal life. A child, for example, finds that the fulfillment of an\nappetite of hunger is not only possible, but that it is desirable--that\nfulfillment brings, or is, satisfaction, not mere satiety. Later\non, moved by the idea of this sort of value, he snatches at food.\nThen he is made aware of other sorts of values involved in the act\nperformed--values incompatible with just the value at which he aimed. He\nbrings down upon himself social disapproval and reproach. He is termed\nrude, unmannerly, greedy, selfish. He acted in accordance with an\nunhesitatingly accepted idea of value. But while reaching one result he\naccomplished also certain other results which he did not intend, results\nin the way of being thought ill of, results which are disagreeable:\n_negative values_. He is taught to raise the question of what, after\nall, in such cases is the _really_ desirable or valuable. Before he is\nfree to deliberate upon means, he has to form an estimate of the\nrelative worth of various possible ends, and to be willing to forego\none and select the other. The chapters on Hebrew and Greek moral\ndevelopment have shown this same process at work in the life of a\npeople.\n\n=Summary and Definition.=--If we sum up the three classes of instances\nthus far considered, we get the following defining traits of a moral\nsituation, that is, of one which is an appropriate subject of\ndeterminations of right and wrong: Moral experience is (1) a matter of\n_conduct_, _behavior_; that is, of activities which are called out by\n_ideas of the worth, the desirability of results_. This evocation by an\n_idea_ discriminates it from the so-called behavior of a pump, where\nthere is no recognition of results; and from conduct attributed to the\nlower animals, where there are probably feelings and even dim imagery,\nbut hardly ideas of the comparative desirability or value of various\nends. Moral experience is (2) that kind of conduct in which there are\nends so discrepant, so incompatible, as to require selection of one and\nrejection of the other. This perception of, and selection from,\nincompatible alternatives, discriminates moral experience from those\ncases of conduct which are called out and directed by ideas of value,\nbut which do not necessitate passing upon the _real worth_, as we say,\nof the value selected. It is incompatibility of ends which necessitates\nconsideration of the true worth of a given end; and such consideration\nit is which brings the experience into the moral sphere. Conduct as\nmoral may thus be defined as _activity called forth and directed by\nideas of value or worth, where the values concerned are so mutually\nincompatible as to require consideration and selection before an overt\naction is entered upon_.\n\n=End Finally at Issue.=--Many questions about ends are in reality\nquestions about means: the artist considers whether he will paint a\nlandscape or a figure; this or that landscape, and so on. The general\ncharacter of the end is unchanged: it is to paint. But let this end\npersist and be felt as desirable, as valuable; let at the same time an\nalternative end presents itself as also desirable (say keeping an\nengagement), so that the individual does not find any way of adjusting\nand arranging them into a common scheme (like doing first one and then\nthe other), and the person has a moral problem on his hands. Which shall\nhe decide for, and why? The appeal is to himself; what does _he_ really\nthink the desirable end? What makes the supreme appeal to him? What sort\nof an agent, of a person, shall he be? This is the question finally at\nstake in any genuinely moral situation: What shall the agent _be_? What\nsort of a character shall he assume? On its face, the question is what\nhe shall _do_, shall he act for this or that end. But the\nincompatibility of the ends forces the issue back into the question of\nthe kinds of selfhood, of agency, involved in the respective ends. The\ndistinctively moral situation is then one in which elements of value and\ncontrol are bound up with the processes of deliberation and desire; and\nare bound up in a peculiar way: _viz._, they decide what kind of a\ncharacter shall control further desires and deliberations. When ends are\ngenuinely incompatible, no common denominator can be found except by\ndeciding what sort of character is most highly prized and shall be given\nsupremacy.\n\n=The Moral and Indifferent Situations.=--This criterion throws lights\nupon our earlier discussion of morally indifferent acts. Persons perform\nthe greater bulk of their activities without any conscious reference to\nconsiderations of right and wrong, as any one may verify for himself by\nrecollecting the general course of his activity on any ordinary day from\nthe time he arises in the morning to the time he goes to bed at night.\nHis deliberations and wants are mostly concerned with the ends involved\nin his regular vocation and recreations. But at any time the question of\nhis character as concerned with what he is doing may arise for\njudgment. The person may later on realize that the type or kind of\ncharacter which is to prevail in his further activity was involved in\ndeeds which were performed without any such thought. He _then_ judges\nthem morally, approving or disapproving. On the other hand, a course of\naction which at the time presented a moral crisis even, may afterwards\ncome to be followed as a matter of course. There is then no _fixed_ line\nbetween the morally indifferent and the morally significant. Every act\nis _potential_ subject-matter of moral judgment, for it strengthens or\nweakens some habit which influences whole classes of judgments.\n\n\nLITERATURE\n\nThere are comparatively few distinct analyses of the moral situation,\nthe topic generally being treated as a running part of the theory of the\nauthor, or in connection with an account of character or conduct (see\nreferences at end of ch. xiii.). See, however, Mezes, _Ethics,\nDescriptive and Explanatory_, ch. ii.; Martineau, _Types of Ethical\nTheory_, Vol. II., pp. 17-54; Spencer, _Principles of Ethics_, Vol. I.;\n_Studies in Logical Theory_, Stuart, essay on Valuation as a Logical\nProcess, pp. 237-241, 257-258, 273-275, 289-293; Dewey, _Logical\nConditions of a Scientific Treatment of Morality_; Mead, _Philosophical\nBasis of Ethics_, International Journal of Ethics, April, 1908; Fite,\n_Introductory Study of Ethics_, chs. ii., xviii., and xix.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[104] Aristotle illustrates by a man who throws his goods overboard in a\nstorm at sea. He does not wish absolutely to lose his goods, but he\nprefers losing them to losing the ship or his own life: he wishes it\n_under the circumstances_ and his act is so far voluntary.\n\n[105] Of course, this is also true of a large part of human activity.\nBut these are also the cases in which we do not ascribe moral value; or\nat least we do not except when we want to make the agent conscious of\nsome reason why.\n\n[106] While we have employed Spencer's example, it should be noted that\nincompatibility of ends is not the criterion of the distinctively moral\nsituation which Spencer himself employs.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nPROBLEMS OF MORAL THEORY\n\n\nWe have identified in its framework and main outlines the sort of\nvoluntary activity in which the problem of good and evil appears and in\nwhich the ideas of right and wrong are employed. This task, however, is\nonly preliminary to theoretical analysis. For it throws no light upon\njust what we mean by good and bad; just what elements of complex\nvoluntary behavior are termed right or wrong; or why they are so termed.\nIt does not even indicate what must be discovered before such questions\ncan be answered. It only sets forth the limits of the subject-matter\nwithin which such questions arise and in reference to which they must be\nanswered. What are the distinctive problems which must be dealt with in\nthe course of such a discussion?\n\n=Growth of Theory from Practical Problems.=--Of one thing we may be\nsure. If inquiries are to have any substantial basis, if they are not to\nbe wholly up in the air, the theorist must take his departure from the\nproblems which men actually meet in their own conduct. He may define and\nrefine these; he may divide and systematize; he may abstract the\nproblems from their concrete contexts in individual lives; he may\nclassify them when he has thus detached them; but if he gets away from\nthem he is talking about something which his own brain has invented, not\nabout moral realities. On the other hand, the perplexities and\nuncertainties of direct and personal behavior invite a more abstract and\nsystematic impersonal treatment than that which they receive in the\nexigencies of their occurrence. The recognition of any end or authority\ngoing beyond what is embodied in existing customs, involves some appeal\nto thought, and moral theory makes this appeal more explicit and more\ncomplete. If a child asks why he should tell the truth, and is answered,\n\"because you ought to and that is reason enough\"; or, \"because it will\nprove profitable for you to do so\"; or, \"because truth-telling is a\ncondition of mutual communication and common aims,\" the answer implies a\nprinciple which requires only to be made explicit to be full-fledged\ntheory. And when this principle is compared with those employed in other\ncases to see if they are mutually consistent; and if not, to find a\nstill more fundamental reconciling principle, we have passed over the\nborder into ethical system.\n\n=Types of Theoretical Problems.=--The practical problems which a\nthoughtful and progressive individual must consider in his own conduct\nwill, then, give the clue to the genuine problems of moral theory. The\nframework of one is an outline of the other. The man who does not\nsatisfy himself with sheer conventional conformity to the customs, the\n_ethos_, of his class will find such problems as the following forced\nupon his attention:--(1) He must consider the _meaning_ of habits which\nhave been formed more or less unreflectively--by imitation, suggestion,\nand inculcation from others--and he must consider the meaning of those\ncustoms about him to which he is invited to conform till they have\nbecome personal habits. This problem of discovering the meaning of these\nhabits and customs is the problem of stating what, after all, is\n_really_ good, or worth while in conduct. (2) The one whose morality is\nof the reflective sort will be faced by the problem of moral advance, of\nprogress beyond the level which has been reached by this more or less\nunreflective taking on of the habits and ideas of those about him,\nprogress up to the level of his own reflective insight. Otherwise put,\nhe has to face the problem of what is to be the place and role in his\nown conduct of ideals and principles generated not by custom but by\ndeliberation and insight. (3) The individual must consider more\nconsciously the relation between what is currently regarded as good by\nthe social groups in which he is placed and in which he has to act, and\nthat regarded as good by himself. The moment he ceases to accept\nconformity to custom as an adequate sanction of behavior, he is met by\ndiscrepancy between his personally conceived goods and those reigning in\nthe customs about him. Now while this detachment makes possible the\nbirth of higher and more ideal types of morality, and hence of\nsystematic effort for social reform and advance; it also makes possible\n(as we have seen on the historical side, p. 189) a more generalized and\ndeliberate selfishness; a less instinctive and more intentional pursuit\nof what the individual judges to be good _for himself_ against what\nsociety exacts as good for itself. The same reflective attitude which\ngenerates the conscientious moral reformer may generate also a more\ndeliberate and resolute anti-social egoism. In any case, the individual\nwho has acquired the habit of moral reflection, is conscious of a new\nproblem--the relation of public good to individual good. In short, the\nindividual who is thoughtfully serious and who aims to bring his habit\nof reflection to bear on his conduct, will have occasion (1) to search\nfor the elements of good and bad, of positive and negative, value in the\nsituations that confront him; (2) to consider the methods and principles\nby which he shall reach conclusions, and (3) to consider the relations\nbetween himself, his own capacities and satisfactions, and the ends and\ndemands of the social situations in which he is placed.\n\n=The Corresponding Problems of Theory.=--Theory will then have similar\nproblems to deal with. (1) What is the Good, the end in any voluntary\nact? (2) How is this good known? Is it directly perceived, and if so,\nhow? Or is it worked out through inquiry and reflection? And if so,\nhow? (3) When the good is known, how is it _acknowledged_; how does it\nacquire authority? What is the place of _law_, of control, in the moral\nlife? Why is it that some ends are attractive of themselves, while\nothers present themselves as _duties_, as involving subordination of\nwhat is naturally attractive? (4) What is the place of selfhood in the\nmoral process? And this question assumes two forms: (a) What is the\nrelation of the good of the self to the good of others? (b) What is the\ndifference between the morally good and the morally bad in the self?\nWhat are virtues and vices as dispositions of the self? These abstract\nand formal questions will become more concrete if we consider them\nbriefly in the order of their development in the history of the moral\ntheory.\n\n=Problem of Knowledge of Good Comes First in Theory.=--The clash and\noverlapping of customs once so local as to be isolated, brought to\nAthenian moral philosophers the problem of discovering the underlying\nand final good to which all the conflicting values of customs might be\nreferred for judgment. The movement initiated by Socrates was precisely\nthe effort to find out what is the real good, the true end, of all the\nvarious institutions, customs, and procedures current among men. The\nexplanation of conflict among men's interests, and of lack of\nconsistency and unity in any given person's behavior, of the division of\nclasses in the state, of the diverse recommendations of different\nwould-be moral teachers, was that they were ignorant of their own ends.\nHence the fundamental precept is \"Know thyself,\" one's own end, one's\ngood and one's proper function. Different followers of Socrates gave\nvery different accounts of knowledge, and hence proposed very different\nfinal aims. But they all agreed that the problem of knowing the good was\nthe central problem, and that if this were settled, action in accord\nwith good would follow of itself. Could it be imagined that man could\nknow his own good and yet not seek it? Ignorance of good is evil and\nthe source of evil; insight into the real good will clear up the\nconfusion and partiality which makes men pursue false ends and thus\nstraighten out and put in order conduct. Control would follow as a\nmatter of course from _knowledge_ of the end. Such control would be no\nmatter of coercion or external restriction, but of subordination and\norganization of minor ends with reference to the final end.\n\n=Problem of Motive Force.=[107]--The problem of attaining this knowledge\nwas seen to be attended, however, by peculiar obstructions and\ndifficulties, the growing recognition of which led to a shifting of the\nproblem itself. The dilemma, in brief, was this: The man who is already\ngood will have no difficulty in knowing the good both in general and in\nthe specific clothing under which it presents itself in particular\ncases. But the one who does not yet know the good, does not know _how_\nto know it. His ignorance, moreover, puts positive obstacles in his way,\nfor it leads him to delight in superficial and transitory ends. This\ndelight increases the hold of these ends upon the agent; and thus it\nbuilds up an _habitual_ interest in them which renders it impossible for\nthe individual to get a glimpse of the final end, to say nothing of a\nclear and persisting view. _Only if the individual is habituated,\nexercised, practiced in good ends so as to take delight in them, while\nhe is still so immature as to be incapable of really knowing how and why\nthey are good, will he be capable of knowing the good when he is\nmature._ Pleasure in right ends and pain in wrong must operate as a\nmotive force in order to give experience of the good, before knowledge\ncan be attained and operate as the motor force.\n\n=Division of Problem.=--But the exercise and training requisite to form\nthe habits which make the individual rejoice in right activity before he\nknows how and why it is right, presuppose adults who already have\nknowledge of the good. They presuppose a social order capable not merely\nof giving theoretic instruction, but of habituating the young to right\npractices. But where shall such adults be found, and where is the social\norder so good that it is capable of right training of its own immature\nmembers? Hence the problem again shifts, breaking up into two parts. On\nthe one hand, attention is fixed upon the irrational appetites, desires,\nand impulses, which hinder apprehension of the good; on the other, it is\ndirected to the political laws and institutions which are capable of\ntraining the members of the State into a right manner of living. For the\nmost part, these two problems went their own way independently of each\nother, a fact which resulted in the momentous breach between the inner\nand \"spiritual,\" and the outer and \"physical\" aspects of behavior.\n\n=Problem of Control of Affections and Desires.=--If it is the lively\nmovements of natural appetites and desires which make the individual\napprehend false goods as true ones, and which present obstacles to\nknowledge of the true good, the serious problem is evidently to check\nand so far as possible to abolish the power of desire to move the mind.\nSince it is anger, fear, hope, despair, sexual desire which make men\nregard particular things instead of the final end as good, the great\nthing is wholly to free attention and judgment from the influence of\nsuch passions. It may be impossible to prevent the passions; they are\nnatural perturbations. But man can at least prevent his judgment of what\nis good or bad from being modified by them. The Stoic moral philosophers\nmost emphasized the misleading influence of desire and passion, and set\nup the ideal of apathy (lack of passion) and \"ataraxy\" (absence of\nbeing stirred up). The other moral schools, the Sceptics and Epicureans,\nalso made independence of mind from influence of passion the immediate\nand working end; the Sceptics because they emphasized the condition of\nmental detachment and non-committal, which is the state appropriate to\ndoubt and uncertainty; the Epicureans because the pleasures of the mind\nare the only ones not at the mercy of external circumstances. Mental\npleasures are equable, and hence are the only ones which do not bring\nreactions of depression, exhaustion, and subsequent pain. The problem of\nmoral theory is now in effect, if not in name, that of _control_, of\nauthority and subordination, of checking and restraining desire and\npassion.\n\n=Problem of Control of Private Interests by Law.=--Such views could at\nthe best, however, affect only a comparatively small number, the\nphilosophers. For the great masses of men in the Roman Empire, the\nproblem existed on the other line: by what laws and what administration\nof laws to direct the outward acts of men into right courses, courses at\nleast sufficiently right so as to maintain outward peace and unity\nthrough the vast empire. In the Greek city-state, with its small number\nof free citizens all directly participating in public affairs, it was\npossible to conceive an ideal of a common good which should bind all\ntogether. But in an Empire covering many languages, religions, local\ncustoms, varied and isolated occupations, a single system of\nadministration and law exercised from a single central source could\nalone maintain the requisite harmony. The problems of legislations,\ncodification, and administration were congenial to the Latin mind, and\nwere forced by the actual circumstances. From the external side, then,\nas well as from the internal, the problem of control became dominant\nover that of value and the good.\n\n=Problem of Unification.=--It was the province of the moral\nphilosophers, of the theologians, of the church to attempt a fusion of\nthese elements of inner and outer control. It was their aim to connect,\nto synthesize these factors into one commanding and comprehensive view\nof life. But the characteristic of their method was to suppose that the\ncombination could be brought about, whether intellectually or\npractically, only upon a supernatural basis, and by supernatural\nresources. From the side of the natural constitution of both man and the\nState, the various elements of behavior are so hopelessly at war with\none another that there is no health in them nor help from them. The\nappetites and desires are directed only upon carnal goods and form the\ndominant element in the person. Even when reason gets glimpses of the\ngood, the good seen is narrow in scope and temporal in duration; and\neven then reason is powerless as an adequate motive. \"We perceive the\nbetter and we follow the worse.\" Moreover, it is useless to seek aid\nfrom the habituation, the education, the discipline and restraint of\nhuman institutions. They themselves are corrupt. The product of man's\nlower nature cannot be capable of enlightening and improving that\nnature; at most it can only restrain outer action by appealing to fear.\nOnly a divine revelation can make known man's true end; and only divine\nassistance, embodied in the ordinances and sacraments of the\nsupernaturally founded and directed church, can bring this knowledge\nhome to erring individuals so as to make it effectual. In theory the\nconception of the end, the good, was supreme; but man's true good is\nsupernatural and hence can be achieved only by supernatural assistance\nand in the next world. In practice, therefore, the important thing for\nman in his present condition is implicit reliance upon and obedience to\nthe requirements of the church. This represents on earth the divine\nsovereign, ultimate source of all moral law. In effect, the moral law\nbecame a net-work of ordinances, prescriptions, commands, rewards,\npenalties, penances, and remissions. The jural point of view was\ncompletely enthroned.[108] There was no problem; there was a final,\nbecause a supernatural solution.\n\n=The Problems of Individuality and Citizenship.=--With the Renaissance\nbegan the revolt against the jural view of life. A sense of the joys and\ndelights which attend the free and varied exercise of human capacities\nin this world was reborn. The first results were a demand for natural\nsatisfaction; the next a profound reawakening of the antique civic and\npolitical consciousness. The first in its reaction against the Middle\nAges was more individualistic than the Greek ideal, to which it was in\nsome respects allied. The Greek had emphasized the notion of value, but\nhad conceived this as generic, as the fulfillment of the essential\nnature of man as man. But with the moderns, satisfaction, the good,\nmeant something direct, specific, personal; something the individual as\nan individual could lay hold of and possess. It was an individual right;\nit was final and inalienable. Nothing had a right to intervene or\ndeprive the individual of it.\n\nThis extreme individualistic tendency was contemporaneous with a\ntransfer of interest from the supernatural church-state over to the\ncommercial, social, and political bodies with which the modern man found\nhimself identified. The rise of the free cities, and more especially the\ndevelopment of national states, with the growth of commerce and\nexchange, opened to the individual a natural social whole. With this his\nconnections were direct, in this he gained new outlets and joys, and yet\nit imposed upon him definite responsibilities and exacted of him\nspecific burdens. If the individual had gained a new sense of himself as\nan individual, he also found himself enmeshed in national states of a\npower constantly increasing in range and intensity. The problem of the\nmoral theorists was to reconcile these two tendencies, the\nindividualistic and that of political centralization. For a time, the\nindividual felt the social organization in which he was set to be, with\nwhatever incidental inconveniences, upon the whole an outlet and\nreenforcement of prized personal powers. Hence in observing its\nconditions, he was securing the conditions of his own peace and\ntranquillity or even of his own freedom and achievement. But the balance\nwas easily upset, and the problem of the relation of the individual and\nthe social, the private and the public, was soon forced into prominence;\na problem which in one form or other has been the central problem of\nmodern ethical theory.\n\n=Individualistic Problem.=--Only for a short time, during the first\nflush of new achievement and of hopeful adventure, did extreme\nindividualism and social interests remain naively combined. The\nindividualistic tendency found a convenient intellectual tool in a\npsychology which resolved the individual into an association or series\nof particular states of feeling and sensations; and the good into a like\ncollection of pleasures also regarded as particular mental states. This\npsychological atomism made individuals as separate and disconnected as\nthe sensations which constituted their selves were isolated and mutually\nexclusive. Social arrangements and institutions were, in theory,\njustifiable only as they could be shown to augment the sum of\npleasurable states of feeling of individuals. And as, quite independent\nof any such precarious theory, the demand for reform of institutions\nbecame more and more imperative, the situation was packed by Rousseau\ninto a formula that man was naturally both free and good, and that\ninstitutional life had enslaved and thereby depraved him. At the same\ntime, there grew up an enthusiastic and optimistic faith in \"Nature,\" in\nher kindly intentions for the happiness of humanity, and in her potency\nto draw it to perfection when artificial restrictions were once out of\nthe way. Individuals, separate in themselves and in their respective\ngoods, were thereby brought into a complete coincidence and harmony of\ninterests. Nature's laws were such that if the individual obeyed them in\nseeking his own good he could not fail to further the happiness of\nothers. While there developed in France (with original initiative from\nEngland) this view of the internal isolation and external harmony of\nmen, a counterpart movement took place in Germany.\n\n=The Rationalistic Problem.=--German thought inherited through both\nRoman law and the natural theology and ethics of the church, the\nconception that man's rational nature makes him sociable. Stoicism, with\nits materialistic idealism, had taught that all true laws are natural,\nwhile all laws of nature are diffusions and potencies of reason. As they\nbind things together in the world, so they bind men together in\nsocieties. Moral theory is \"Natural Law\" conceived in this sense. From\nthe laws of reason, regarded as the laws of man's generic and hence\nsociable nature, all the principles of jurisprudence and of individual\nmorals may be deduced. But man has also a sensuous nature, an appetitive\nnature which is purely private and exclusive. Since reason is higher\nthan sense, the authority of the State is magnified. The juristic point\nof view was reinstated, but with the important change that the law was\nthat of a social order which is the realization of man's own rational\nbeing.[109] If the laws of the State were criticized, the reply was that\nhowever unworthy the civic regulations and however desirable their\nemendation, still the State is the expression of the idea of reason,\nthat is of man in his true generic nature. Hence to attempt to overthrow\nthe government is to attack the fundamental and objective conditions of\nmoral or rational life. Without the State, the particularistic, private\nside of man's nature would have free sway to express itself. Man's true\nmoral nature is within. We are then left, from both the English-French\nand the German sides, with the problem of the relation of the individual\nand the social; of the relation of the inner and outer, of the\npsychological structure of the person and the social conditions and\nresults of his behavior.\n\n\nLITERATURE\n\nSee the references on the scope and methods of ethics at the end of ch.\ni. of Part I., and also, Sorley, _Ethics of Naturalism_, ch. i., and his\n_Recent Tendencies in Ethics_; Fite, _An Introductory Study of Ethics_,\nch. ii.; Bowne, _Principles of Ethics_, ch. i.; Seth, _Ethical\nPrinciples_, ch. i.; Martineau, _Types of Ethical Theory_, Vol. I.,\nIntroduction; Hensel, _Problems of Ethics_, in Vol. I. of St. Louis\nCongress of Arts and Science.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[107] On the _practical_ side, this was always, as we have seen, the\nprominent problem of Hebrew thought. But we are concerned here with the\nstatement of the problem by Plato and Aristotle from the theoretical\nside.\n\n[108] The Ten Commandments, divided and subdivided into all their\nconceivable applications, and brought home through the confessional,\nwere the specific basis.\n\n[109] The idealistic philosophic movement beginning with Kant is in many\nimportant respects the outgrowth of the earlier _Naturrecht_ of the\nmoral philosophers from Grotius on.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nTYPES OF MORAL THEORY\n\n\nSec. 1. TYPICAL DIVISIONS OF THEORIES\n\n=Problems and Theories.=--We were concerned in the last chapter with the\ntypical _problems_ of moral theory. But it was evident that theories\nthemselves developed and altered as now this, now that, problem was\nuppermost. To regard the question of how to know the good as the central\nproblem of moral inquiry is already to have one type of theory; to\nconsider the fundamental problem to be either the subordination or the\nsatisfaction of desire is to have other types. A classification of types\nof theory is rendered difficult, a thoroughly satisfactory\nclassification almost impossible, by the fact that the problems arrange\nthemselves about separate principles leading to cross-divisions. All\nthat we may expect to do is somewhat arbitrarily to select that\nprinciple which seems most likely to be useful in conducting inquiry.\n\n=(1) Teleological and Jural.=--One of the fundamental divisions arises\nfrom taking either Value or Duty, Good or Right, as the fundamental\nidea. Ethics of the first type is concerned above all with _ends_; hence\nit is frequently called _teleological_ theory (Greek [Greek: telos],\nend). To the other type of theory, obligations, imperatives, commands,\nlaw, and authority, are the controlling ideas. By this emphasis, arise\nthe _jural_ theories (Latin, _jus_, law). At some point, of course, each\ntheory has to deal with the factor emphasized by its rival. If we start\nwith Law as central, the good resides in these acts which conform to\nits obligations. The good is obedience to law, submission to its moral\nauthority. If we start from the Good, laws, rules, are concerned with\nthe means of defining or achieving it.\n\n=(2) Individual and Institutional.=--This fundamental division is at\nonce cut across by another, arising from emphasizing the problem of the\nindividual and the social. This problem may become so urgent as to force\ninto the background the conflict between teleological and jural\ntheories, while in any case it complicates and subdivides them. We have\nindividualistic and institutional types of theory. Consider, for\nexample, the following representative quotations: \"No school can avoid\ntaking for the ultimate moral aim a desirable _state of feeling_ called\nby whatever name--gratification, enjoyment, happiness. Pleasure\nsomewhere, at some time, _to some being or beings_, is an element of the\nconception\";[110] and again,[110] \"the good is universally the\npleasurable.\" And while the emphasis is here upon the good, the\ndesirable, the same type of statement, _as respects emphasis upon the\nindividual_, may be made from the side of duty. For example, \"it is the\nvery essence of moral duty to be imposed by a man on himself.\"[111]\nContrast both of these statements with the following: \"What a man ought\nto do, or what duties he should fulfill in order to be virtuous, is in\nan ethical community not hard to say. He has to do nothing except what\nis presented, expressed, and recognized in his established\nrelations.\"[112] \"The individual has his truth, real existence, and\nethical status only in being a member of the State. His particular\nsatisfactions, activities, and way of life have in this authenticated,\nsubstantive principle, their origin and result.\"[113] And in another\nconnection: \"The striving for a morality of one's own is futile and by\nits very nature impossible of attainment. In respect to morality the\nsaying of one of the wisest men of antiquity is the true one. To be\nmoral is to live in accord with the moral tradition of one's\ncountry.\"[114] Here both the good and the law of the individual are\nplaced on a strictly institutional basis.\n\n=(3) Empirical and Intuitional.=--Another cross-division arises from\nconsideration of the method of ascertaining and determining the nature\nof moral distinctions: the method of knowledge. From this standpoint,\nthe distinction of ethical theories into the _empirical_ ([Greek:\nempeirikos]) and the _intuitional_ (Latin, _intueor_, to look at or\nupon) represents their most fundamental cleavage. One view makes\nknowledge of the good and the right dependent upon recollection of prior\nexperiences and their conditions and effects. The other view makes it an\nimmediate apprehension of the quality of an act or motive, a trait so\nintrinsic and characteristic it cannot escape being seen. While in\ngeneral the empirical school has laid stress upon the consequences, the\nconsequences to be searched for were considered as either individual or\nsocial. Some, like Hobbes, have held that it was directed upon law; to\nknowledge of the commands of the state. And similarly the direct\nperception or intuition of moral quality was by some thought to apply to\nrecognition of differences of value, and by others to acknowledgment of\nlaw and authority, which again might be divine, social, or personal.\nThis division cleaves straight across our other bases of classification.\nTo describe a theory definitely, it would then be necessary to state\njust where it stood with reference to each possible combination or\npermutation of elements of all three divisions. Moreover, there are\ntheories which attempt to find a deeper principle which will bridge the\ngulf between the two opposites.\n\n=Complexity of Subject-matter and Voluntary Activity.=--This brief\nsurvey should at least warn us of the complexity of the attempt to\ndiscriminate types of theory, and put us on our guard against undue\nsimplification. It may also serve to remind us that various types of\ntheory are not arbitrary personal devices and constructions, but arise\nbecause, in the complexity of the subject-matter, one element or another\nis especially emphasized, and the other elements arranged in different\nperspectives. As a rule, all the elements are recognized in some form or\nother by all theories; but they are differently placed and accounted\nfor. In any case, it is voluntary activity with which we are concerned.\nThe problem of analyzing voluntary activity into its proper elements,\nand rightly arranging them, must coincide finally with the problem of\nthe relation of good and law of control to each other, with the problem\nof the nature of moral knowledge, and with that of the relation of the\nindividual and social aspects of conduct.\n\n\nSec. 2. DIVISION OF VOLUNTARY ACTIVITY INTO INNER AND OUTER\n\n=The What and How of Activity.=--Starting from the side of the voluntary\nact, we find in it one distinction which when forced into an extreme\nseparation throws light upon all three divisions in theory which have\nbeen noted. This is the relation between desire and deliberation as\nmental or private, and the deed, the doing, as overt and public. Is\nthere any intrinsic moral connection between the _mental_ and the\n_overt_ in activity? We may analyze an act which has been accomplished\ninto two factors, one of which is said to exist within the agent's own\nconsciousness; while the other, the external execution, carries the\nmental into operation, affects the world, and is appreciable by others.\nNow on the face of the matter, these two things, while capable of\nintellectual discrimination, are incapable of real separation. The\n\"mental\" side, the desire and the deliberation, is for the sake of\ndetermining what shall be _done_; the overt side is for the sake of\nmaking real certain precedent mental processes, which are partial and\ninadequate till carried into effect, and which occur for the sake of\nthat effect. The \"inner\" and \"outer\" are really only the \"how\" and the\n\"what\" of activity, neither being real or significant apart from the\nother. (See _ante_, p. 6).\n\n=Separation into Attitude and Consequences.=--But under the strain of\nvarious theories, this organic unity has been denied; the inner and the\nouter side of activity have been severed from one another. When thus\ndivided, the \"inner\" side is connected exclusively with the will, the\ndisposition, the character of the person; the \"outer\" side is connected\nwholly with the consequences which flow from it, the changes it brings\nabout. Theories will then vary radically according as the so-called\ninner or the so-called outer is selected as the bearer and carrier of\nmoral distinctions. One theory will locate the moral quality of an act\nin that _from_ which it issues; the other in that _into_ which it\nissues.\n\nThe following quotations put the contrast in a nutshell, though\nunfortunately the exact meaning of the second is not very apparent apart\nfrom its context.\n\n    \"A motive is substantially nothing more than pleasure or pain\n    operating in a certain manner. Now pleasure is in itself a good;\n    nay, even setting aside immunity from pain, the only good.... It\n    follows, therefore, immediately and incontestably that there is no\n    such thing as any sort of motive that is in itself a bad one. If\n    motives are good or bad, it is only on account of their effects\"\n    (Bentham, _Principles of Morals and Legislation_, ch. x., Sec. 2).\n    Over against this, place the following from Kant: \"Pure reason is\n    practical of itself alone, and gives to man a universal law which\n    we call the Moral Law.... If this law determines the will directly\n    [without any reference to objects and to pleasure or pain] the\n    action conformed to it is good in itself; a will whose principle\n    always conforms to this law is good absolutely in every respect\n    and is the supreme condition of all good.\"\n\nIf now we recur to the distinction between the \"what\" and the \"how\" of\naction in the light of these quotations, we get a striking result.\n\"What\" one does is to pay money, or speak words, or strike blows, and so\non. The \"how\" of this action is the spirit, the temper in which it is\ndone. One pays money with a hope of getting it back, or to avoid arrest\nfor fraud, or because one wishes to discharge an obligation; one strikes\nin anger, or in self-defense, or in love of country, and so on. Now the\nview of Bentham says in effect that the \"what\" is significant, and that\nthe \"what\" consists ultimately only of the pleasures it produces; the\n\"how\" is unimportant save as it incidentally affects resulting feelings.\nThe view of Kant is that the moral core of every act is in its \"how,\"\nthat is in its spirit, its actuating motive; and that the law of reason\nis the only right motive. _What_ is aimed at is a secondary and (except\nas determined by the inner spirit, the \"how\" of the action) an\nirrelevant matter. In short the separation of the mental and the overt\naspects of an act has led to an equally complete separation of its\ninitial spirit and motive from its final content and consequence. And in\nthis separation, one type of theory, illustrated by Kant, takes its\nstand on the actuating source of the act; the other, that of Bentham, on\nits outcome. For convenience, we shall frequently refer to these types\nof theories as respectively the \"attitude\" and the \"content\"; the formal\nand the material; the disposition and the consequences theory. The\nfundamental thing is that _both_ theories separate character and\nconduct, disposition and behavior; which of the two is most emphasized\nbeing a secondary matter.\n\n=Different Ways of Emphasizing Results.=--There are, however, different\nforms of the consequences or \"content\" theory--as we shall, for\nconvenience, term it. Some writers, like Spencer as quoted, say the only\nconsequences that are good are simply pleasures, and that pleasures\ndiffer only in _intensity_, being alike in everything but degree. Others\nsay, pleasure is the good, but pleasures differ in quality as well as\nintensity and that a certain _kind_ of pleasure is the morally good.\nOthers say that natural satisfaction is not found in any one pleasure,\nor in any number of them, but in a more permanent mood of experience,\nwhich is termed _happiness_. Happiness is different from a pleasure or\nfrom a collection of pleasures, in being an abiding consequence or\nresult, which is not destroyed even by the presence of pains (while a\npain ejects a pleasure). The pleasure view is called Hedonism; the\nhappiness view, Eudaimonism.[115]\n\n=Different Forms of the \"Attitude\" Theory.=--The opposite school of\ntheory holds that the peculiar character of \"moral\" good is precisely\nthat it is _not_ found in consequences of action. In this negative\nfeature of the definition many different writers agree; there is less\nharmony in the positive statement of just what the moral good is. It is\nan attribute or disposition of character, or the self, not a trait of\nresults experienced, and in general such an attribute is called\n_Virtue_. But there are as many differences of opinion as to what\nconstitutes virtue as there are on the other side as to what pleasure\nand happiness are. In one view, it merges, in its outcome at least, very\nclosely with one form of eudaimonism. If happiness be defined as the\nfulfillment of satisfaction of the characteristic functions of a human\nbeing, while a certain function, that of reason, is regarded as _the_\ncharacteristic human trait whose exercise is _the_ virtue or supreme\nexcellence, it becomes impossible to maintain any sharp line of\ndistinction. Kant, however, attempted to cut under this union of\nhappiness and virtue, which under the form of _perfectionism_ has been\nattempted by many writers, by raising the question of _motivation_. Why\ndoes the person aim at perfection? Is it for the sake of the resulting\nhappiness? Then we have only Hedonism. Is it because the moral law, the\nlaw of reason, requires it? Then we have law morally deeper than the end\naimed at.\n\nWe may now consider the bearing of this discussion upon theories of\nmoral knowledge and (2) of moral authority.[116]\n\n=I. Characteristic Theories of Moral Knowledge.=--(1) Those who set\nchief store by the goods naturally experienced, find that past\nexperiences supply all the data required for moral knowledge. Pleasures\nand pains, satisfactions and miseries, are recurrent familiar\nexperiences. All we have to do is to note them and their occasions (or,\nput the other way, to observe the tendency of some of our impulses and\nacts to bring pleasure as a consequence, of others to effect misery),\nand to make up our ends and aims accordingly. As a theory of moral\nknowledge, Hedonism is thus almost always allied with _empiricism_,\nunderstanding by empiricism the theory that particular past experiences\nfurnish the method of all ideas and beliefs.\n\n(2) The theory that the good is some type of virtuous character requires\na special organ to give moral knowledge. Virtue is none the less the\nGood, even when it is not attained, when it is not experienced, that is,\nas we experience a pleasure. In any case, it is not good because it is\nexperienced, but because it _is_ virtue. Thus the \"attitude\" theory\ntends to connect itself with some form of Intuitionalism, Rationalism,\nor Transcendentalism, all of these terms meaning that there is something\nin knowledge going beyond the particular experiences. Intuitionalism\nholds there is a certain special faculty which reveals truths beyond the\nscope of experience; Rationalism, that beside the particular elements of\nexperience there are universal and necessary conceptions which regulate\nit; Transcendentalism, that within experience there is a factor derived\nfrom a source transcending experience.[117]\n\n=II. Characteristic Theories of Moral Control.=--The result school tends\nto view authority, control, law, obligation from the standpoint of\n_means to an end_; the moralistic, or virtue, school to regard the idea\nof _law_ as more fundamental than that of the good. From the first\nstandpoint, the authority of a given rule lies in its power to regulate\ndesires so that after all pleasures--or a maximum of them, and a minimum\nof pains--may be had. At bottom, it is a principle of expediency, of\npractical wisdom, of adjustment of means to end. Thus Hume said: \"Reason\nis, and ought only to be, the slave of the passions\"--that is, the\nprinciples and rules made known by reason are, at last, only instruments\nfor securing the fullest satisfaction of desires. But according to the\npoint of view of the other school, no satisfaction is _really_ (i.e.,\nmorally) good unless it is acquired in accordance with a law existing\nindependently of pleasurable satisfaction. Thus the good depends upon\nthe law, not the law upon the desirable end.\n\n\nSec. 3. GENERAL INTERPRETATION OF THESE THEORIES\n\n=The Opposition in Ordinary Life.=--To some extent, similar oppositions\nare latent in our ordinary moral convictions, without regard to theory.\nIndeed, we tend, at different times, to pass from one point of view to\nthe other, without being aware of it. Thus, as against the\nidentification of goodness with a _mere_ attitude of will; we say, \"It\nis not enough for a man to be good; he must be good for something.\" It\nis not enough to mean well; one must mean to do well; to excuse a man by\nsaying \"he _means_ well,\" conveys a shade of depreciation. \"Hell is\npaved with good intentions.\" Good \"resolutions,\" in general, are\nridiculed as not modifying overt action. A tree is to be judged by its\nfruits. \"Faith without works is dead.\" A man is said \"to be too good for\nthis world\" when his motives are not effective. Sometimes we say, \"So\nand so is a _good_ man,\" meaning to say that that is about all that can\nbe said for him--he does not count, or amount to anything, practically.\nThe objection to identifying goodness with inefficiency also tends to\nrender suspected a theory which seems to lead logically to such\nidentification. More positively we dwell upon goodness as involving\n_service_; \"love is the fulfilling of the law,\" and while love is a\ntrait of character, it is one which takes immediate action in order to\nbring about certain definite consequences. We call a man Pharisaical who\ncherishes his own good character as an end distinct from the common good\nfor which it may be serviceable.\n\nOn the other hand, indicating the supremacy of the voluntary attitude\nover consequences, we have, \"What shall a man give in exchange for his\nsoul?\" \"What shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world and\nlose his own life?\" \"Let us do evil that good may come, whose damnation\nis just.\" The deep-seated objection to the maxim that the end justifies\nthe means is hard to account for, except upon the basis that it is\npossible to attain ends otherwise worthy and desirable at the expense of\nconduct which is immoral. Again, compare Shakspere's \"There's nothing\nright or wrong, but thinking makes it so\" with the Biblical \"As a man\nthinketh in his heart, so is he.\" And finally we have such sayings as,\n\"Take the will for the deed\"; \"His heart is in the right place\"; _Pereat\nmundus, fiat justitia_.\n\nPassing from this popular aspect of the matter, we find the following\ngrounds for the \"content\" theory:\n\n=1. It Makes Morality Really Important.=--Would there be any use or\nsense in moral acts if they did not tend to promote welfare, individual\nand social? If theft uniformly resulted in great happiness and security\nof life, if truth-telling introduced confusion and inefficiency into\nmen's relations, would we not consider the first a virtue, and the\nlatter a vice?[118] So far as the identification of goodness with mere\nmotive (apart from results effected by acts) reduces morality to\nnullity, there seems to be furnished a _reductio ad absurdum_ of the\ntheory that results are not the decisive thing.\n\n=(2) It Makes Morality a Definite, Concrete Thing.=--Morality is found\nin consequences; and consequences are definite, observable facts which\nthe individual can be made responsible for noting and for employing in\nthe direction of his further behavior. The theory gives morality an\nobjective, a tangible guarantee and sanction. Moreover, results are\nsomething objective, common to different individuals because outside\nthem all. But the doctrine that goodness consists in motives formed by\nand within the individual without reference to obvious, overt results,\nmakes goodness something vague or else whimsical and arbitrary. The\nlatter view makes virtue either something unattainable, or else attained\nby merely cultivating certain internal states having no outward results\nat all, or even results that are socially harmful. It encourages\nfanaticism, moral crankiness, moral isolation or pride; obstinate\npersistence in a bad course in spite of its demonstrable evil results.\nIt makes morality non-progressive, since by its assumption no amount of\nexperience of consequences can throw any light upon essential moral\nelements.\n\n=(3) The Content Theory Not Only Puts Morality Itself upon a Basis of\nFacts, but Also Puts the Theory of Morality upon a Solid Basis.=--We\nknow what we mean by goodness and evil when we discuss them in terms of\nresults achieved or missed, and can therefore discuss them intelligibly.\nWe can formulate concrete ends and lay down rules for their attainment.\nThus there can be a science of morals just as there can be a science of\nany body of observable facts having a common principle. But if morality\ndepends upon purely subjective, personal motives, no objective\nobservation and common interpretation are possible. We are thrown back\nupon the capricious individual _ipse dixit_, which by this theory is\nmade final. Ethical theory is rendered impossible. Thus Bentham, who\nbrings these charges (and others) against the \"virtue\" theory of\ngoodness, says at the close of the preface to his _Principles of Morals\nand Legislation_ (ed. of 1823):\n\n    \"Truths that form the basis of political and moral science are not\n    to be discovered but by investigations as severe as mathematical\n    ones, and beyond all comparison more intricate and extensive....\n    They are not to be forced into detached and general propositions,\n    unincumbered with explanations and exceptions. They will not\n    compress themselves into epigrams. They recoil from the tongue and\n    the pen of the declaimer. They flourish not in the same soil with\n    sentiment. They grow among thorns; and are not to be plucked, like\n    daisies, by infants as they run.... There is no _King's Road_ ...\n    to legislative, any more than to mathematical science.\"[119]\n\nArguments not unlike, however, may be adduced in favor of the attitude\ntheory.\n\n=1. It, and It Alone, Places Morality in the High and Authoritative\nPlace Which by Right Characterizes It.=--Morality is not just a means of\nreaching other ends; it is an end in itself. To reduce virtue to a tool\nor instrumentality for securing pleasure is to prostitute and destroy\nit. Unsophisticated common sense is shocked at putting morality upon the\nsame level with prudence, policy, and expediency. Morality is morality,\njust because it possesses an absolute authoritativeness which they lack.\n\n=2. The Morally Good Must be Within the Power of the Individual to\nAchieve.=--The amount of pleasure and pain the individual experiences,\nhis share of satisfaction, depends upon outward circumstances which are\nbeyond his control, and which accordingly have no moral significance.\nOnly the beginning, the willing, of an act lies with the man; its\nconclusion, its outcome in the way of consequences, lies with the gods.\nAccident, misfortune, unfavorable circumstance, may shut the individual\nwithin a life of sickness, misery, and discomfort. They may deprive him\nof external goods; but they cannot modify the moral good, for that\nresides in the attitude with which one faces these conditions and\nresults. Conditions hostile to prosperity may be only the means of\ncalling forth virtues of bravery, patience, and amiability. Only\nconsequences within character itself, the tendency of an act to form a\nhabit or to cultivate a disposition, are really of moral significance.\n\n=3. Motives Furnish a Settled and Workable Criterion by Which to Measure\nthe Rightness or Wrongness of Specific Acts.=--Consequences are\nindefinitely varied; they are too much at the mercy of the unforeseen to\nserve as basis of measurement. One and the same act may turn out in a\nhundred different ways according to accidental circumstances. If the\nindividual had to calculate consequences before entering upon action, he\nwould engage in trying to solve a problem where each new term introduced\nmore factors. No conclusion would ever be reached; or, if reached, would\nbe so uncertain that the agent would be paralyzed by doubt. But since\nthe motives are within the person's own breast, the problem of knowing\nthe right is comparatively simple: the data for the judgment are always\nat hand and always accessible to the one who sincerely wishes to know\nthe right.\n\n=Conclusion.=--The fact that common life recognizes, under certain\nconditions, both theories as correct, and that substantially the same\nclaims may be made for both, suggests that the controversy depends upon\nsome underlying misapprehension. Their common error, as we shall attempt\nto show in the sequel, lies in trying to split a voluntary act which is\nsingle and entire into two unrelated parts, the one termed \"inner,\" the\nother, \"outer\"; the one called \"motive,\" the other, \"end.\" A voluntary\nact is always a disposition, or habit of the agent _passing into an\novert act_, which, so far as it can, produces certain consequences. A\n\"mere\" motive which does not do anything, which makes nothing different,\nis not a genuine motive at all, and hence is not a voluntary act. On the\nother hand, consequences which are not intended, which are not\npersonally wanted and chosen and striven for, are no part of a voluntary\nact. _Neither the inner apart from the outer, nor the outer apart from\nthe inner, has any voluntary or moral quality at all. The former is mere\npassing sentimentality or reverie; the latter is mere accident or luck._\n\n=Tendency of Each Theory to Pass into the Other.=--Hence each theory,\nrealizing its own onesidedness, tends inevitably to make concessions,\nand to borrow factors from its competitor, and thus insensibly to bridge\nthe gap between them. Consequences are emphasized, but only _foreseen_\nconsequences; while to _foresee_ is a mental act whose exercise depends\nupon character. It is disposition, interest, which leads an agent to\nestimate the consequences at their true worth; thus an upholder of the\n\"content\" theory ends by falling back upon the _attitude_ taken in\nforecasting and weighing results. In like fashion, the representative of\nthe motive theory dwells upon the tendency of the motive to bring about\ncertain effects. The man with a truly benevolent disposition is not the\none who indulges in indiscriminate charity, but the one who considers\nthe effect of his gift upon its recipient and upon society. While\nlauding the motive as the sole bearer of moral worth, the motive is\nregarded as a force working towards the production of certain _results_.\nWhen the \"content\" theory recognizes disposition as an inherent factor\nin bringing about consequences, and the \"attitude\" theory views motives\nas forces tending to effect consequences, an approximation of each to\nthe other has taken place which almost cancels the original opposition.\nIt is realized that a complete view of the place of motive in a\nvoluntary act will conceive motive as a motor force; as inspiring to\naction which will inevitably produce certain results unless this is\nprevented by superior external force. It is also realized that only\n_those_ consequences are any part of voluntary behavior which are so\ncongenial to character as to appeal to it as good and stir it to effort\nto realize them. _We may begin the analysis of a voluntary act at\nwhichever end we please, but we are always carried to the other end in\norder to complete the analysis._ The so-called distinction between the\n\"inner\" and \"outer\" parts of an act is in reality a distinction between\nthe _earlier_ and the _later_ period of its development.\n\nIn the following chapter we shall enter upon a direct discussion of the\nrelation of conduct and character to one another; we shall then apply\nthe results of the discussion, in successive chapters, to the problems\nalready raised: The Nature of Good; of Knowledge; of Moral Authority;\nThe Relation of the Self to Others and Society; The Characteristics of\nthe Virtuous Self.\n\n\nLITERATURE\n\nMany of the references in ch. xi. trench upon this ground. Compare,\nalso, Lecky, _History of European Morals_, Vol. I., pp. 1-2, and\n122-130; Sidgwick, _Methods of Ethics_, pp. 6-11, 77-88 and 494-507;\nWundt, _Ethics_, Vol. II., ch. iv.; Mackenzie, _Manual of Ethics_, Book\nII., ch. ii.; Murray, _Introduction to Ethics_, p. 143; Paulsen, _System\nof Ethics_, Introduction, and Book II., ch. i.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[110] Spencer, _Principles of Ethics_, Vol. I., p. 46, and p. 30.\n(Italics not in original.)\n\n[111] Green, _Prolegomena to Ethics_, p. 354.\n\n[112] Hegel's _Philosophy of Right_, translated by Dyde, Part III., 150\n(p. 159).\n\n[113] Hegel's _Philosophy of Right_, translated by Dyde, Part III., 258\n(p. 241).\n\n[114] _Werke_, Book I., 389.\n\n[115] The Greek words [Greek: edone], pleasure, and [Greek: eudaimonia],\nhappiness. The latter conception is due chiefly to Aristotle. Happiness\nis, however, a good translation only when taken very vaguely. The Greek\nterm has a peculiar origin which influenced its meaning.\n\n[116] The differences as regards self and society will be considered in\nlater chapters.\n\n[117] For similar reasons, the \"content\" theories tend to ally\nthemselves with the positive sciences; the \"attitude\" theories with\nphilosophy as distinct from sciences.\n\n[118] \"Suppose that picking a man's pocket excited in him joyful\nemotions, by brightening his prospects, would theft be counted among\ncrimes?\"--SPENCER.\n\n[119] Mill in his _Autobiography_ has given a striking account of how\nthis phase of Utilitarianism appealed to him. (See pp. 65-67 of London\nedition of 1874; see also his _Dissertations and Discussions_, Vol. I.,\nEssay on Bentham, especially pp. 339 and ff.) Bentham \"introduced into\nmorals and politics those habits of thought, and modes of investigation,\nwhich are essential to the idea of science; and the absence of which\nmade these departments of inquiry, as physics had been before Bacon, a\nfield of interminable discussion, leading to no result. It was not his\n_opinions_, in short, but his _method_, that constituted the novelty and\nvalue of what he did.... Bentham's method may be shortly described as\nthe method of _detail_.... Error lurks in generalities.\"\n\nMill finally says: \"He has thus, it is not too much to say, for the\nfirst time introduced precision of thought in moral and political\nphilosophy. Instead of taking up their opinions by intuition, or by\nratiocination from premises adopted on a mere rough view, and couched in\nlanguage so vague that it is impossible to say exactly whether they are\ntrue or false, philosophers are now forced to understand one another, to\nbreak down the generality of their propositions, and join a precise\nissue in every dispute. This is nothing less than a revolution in\nphilosophy.\" In view of the character of the larger amount of\ndiscussions in moral and political philosophy still current, Mill\nperhaps took a too optimistic view of the extent to which this\n\"revolution\" had been accomplished.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nCONDUCT AND CHARACTER\n\n\n=Problem of Chapter.=--We have endeavored in the preceding chapters (1)\nto identify the sort of situation in which the ideas of good and evil,\nright and wrong, in their moral sense, are employed; (2) to set forth\nthe typical problems that arise in the analysis of this situation; and\n(3) to name and describe briefly the types of theory which have\ndeveloped in the course of the history of the problems. We have now to\nreturn to the moral situation as described, and enter upon an\nindependent analysis of it. We shall commence this analysis, as was\nindicated in the last chapter, by considering the question of the\nrelation of attitude and consequences to each other in voluntary\nactivity,--not that this is the only way to approach the problem, but\nthat it is the way which brings out most clearly the points at issue\namong types of moral theory which since the early part of the nineteenth\ncentury have had the chief currency and influence. Accordingly the\ndiscussion will be introduced by a statement of the two most extreme\ndoctrines that separate the \"inner\" and the \"outer,\" the \"psychical\" and\nthe \"overt\" aspects of activity: _viz._, the Kantian, exclusively\nemphasizing the \"how,\" the spirit, and motive of conduct; the\nUtilitarian, dwelling exclusively upon its \"what,\" its effects and\nconsequences. Our positive problem is, of course, by means of arraying\nthese two extreme views against each other, to arrive at a statement of\nthe mutual relations of attitude and act, motive and consequence,\ncharacter and conduct.\n\nWe shall begin with Kant as a representative of the attitude theory.\n\n\nSec. 1. THE GOOD WILL OF KANT\n\nKant says:\n\n    \"Nothing can possibly be conceived, in the world or out of it,\n    which can be called Good without qualification, except a Good\n    Will. Intelligence, wit, judgment, and the other talents of the\n    mind, however they may be named, or courage, resolution,\n    perseverance as qualities of temperament are individually good and\n    desirable in many respects; but these gifts of nature may also\n    become extremely bad and mischievous, if the will which is to make\n    use of them and which, therefore, constitutes what is called\n    character, is not good. It is the same with the gifts of fortune.\n    Power, riches, honor, even health ... inspire pride and often\n    presumption if there is not a Good Will to correct the influence\n    of these on the mind. Moderation of the affections and passions,\n    self-control and calm deliberation are not only good in many\n    respects, but even seem to constitute part of the intrinsic worth\n    of the person; but they are far from deserving to be called good\n    without qualification ... for without the principles of a good\n    will they may become extremely bad. The coolness of a villain\n    makes him both more dangerous and more abominable\" (Kant: _Theory\n    of Ethics_, tr. by Abbott, pp. 9-10).\n\n=Element of Truth in Statement.=--There can be no doubt that in some\nrespects these ideas of Kant meet a welcome in our ordinary convictions.\nGifts of fortune, talents of mind, qualities of temperament, are\nregarded as desirable, as good, but we qualify the concession. We say\nthey are good, if a good use is made of them; but that, administered by\na bad character, they add to power for evil. Moreover, Kant's statement\nof the _intrinsic_ goodness of the Good Will, \"A jewel which shines by\nits own light\" (_Ibid._, p. 10), awakens ready response in us. Some\ngoods we regard as means and conditions--health, wealth, business, and\nprofessional success. They afford moral opportunities and agencies, but\nneed not possess moral value in and of themselves; when they become\nparts, as they may, of a moral good, it is because of their place and\ncontext. Personality, character, has a dignity of its own, which forbids\nthat it be considered a simple means for the acquisition of other goods.\nThe man who makes his good character a simple tool for securing\npolitical preferment, is, we should say, prostituting and so destroying\nhis own goodness.\n\n=Ambiguity of Statement.=--The statement made by Kant, however, is\nambiguous and open to opposed interpretations. The notion that the Good\nWill is good in and of itself may be interpreted in two different ways:\n(i) We may hold, for example, that honesty is good as a trait of will\nbecause it tends inevitably to secure a desirable relationship among\nmen; it removes obstructions between persons and keeps the ways of\naction clear and open. Every man can count upon straightforward action\nwhen all act from honesty; it secures for each singleness of aim and\nconcentration of energy. (ii) But we may also mean that honesty is\nabsolutely good as a trait of character just in and by itself, quite\napart from any influence this trait of character has in securing and\npromoting desirable ends. In one case, we emphasize its goodness because\nit arranges for and tends towards certain results; in the other case, we\nignore the factor of tendency toward results.\n\n=Kant's Interpretation of Goodness of Will is Formal.=--Kant's further\ntreatment leaves us in no doubt in which of these two senses he uses the\nterm Good Will. He goes on (_Ibid._, p. 10):\n\n    \"A Good Will is good, not because of what it performs or effects,\n    _not by its aptness for the attainment of some proposed end_, but\n    simply by virtue of the volition; that is, it is good in\n    itself.... Even if it should happen that, owing to the special\n    disfavor of fortune, or the niggardly provision of a stepmotherly\n    nature, this will should wholly lack power to accomplish its\n    purpose, if with its greatest efforts it should yet achieve\n    nothing, and there should remain only the Good Will (not, to be\n    sure, a mere wish, but the assuming of all means in our power),\n    then, like a jewel, it would still shine by its own light as a\n    thing which has its whole value in itself. Its fruitfulness or\n    fruitlessness can neither add nor take away anything from this\n    value.\"\n\nAnd again he says:\n\n    \"An action ... derives its moral worth not from the _purpose_\n    which is to be attained by it, but from the maxim by which it is\n    determined and therefore depends ... merely on the principle of\n    volition by which the action has taken place, without regard to\n    any _object of desire_.... The purposes which we may have in view\n    in our actions or their effect regarded as ends and springs of\n    will cannot give the actions an unconditional or moral worth....\n    It cannot lie anywhere but in the principle of the Will, without\n    regard to the ends which can be attained by the action\" (_Ibid._,\n    p. 16).\n\n=Relation of Endeavor and Achievement to Will.=--Here, also, we find a\ncertain agreement with our every-day moral experience. It is undoubtedly\ntrue that in many cases we ascribe moral worth or goodness to acts\nwithout reference to the results actually attained by them; a man who\ntries to rescue a drowning child is not judged only on the basis of\nsuccess. If he is prevented, because he is crippled, or because the\ncurrent is too rapid for him, we do not refuse hearty moral approbation.\nWe do not judge the goodness of the act or of the agent from the\nstandpoint of its attained result, which here is failure. We regard the\nman as good because he proposed to himself a worthy end or aim, the\nrescue of another, even at the risk of harm to himself. We should agree\nwith Kant in saying that the moral worth does not depend on the\n_realization_ of the object of desire. But we should regard the worth of\nthe man to consist precisely in the fact that, so far as he was\nconcerned, he _aimed at a good result_. We do not rule out purpose, but\nwe approve because the purpose was good. By will we mean tendencies,\ndesires, and habits operating to realize results regarded as desirable.\nWill is not the _sole_ condition of reaching a result--that is, of\nmaking the aim an actual fact. Circumstances need to cooperate to insure\na successful issue; and if these fail, the best will in the world cannot\nsecure the transformation of desire for an end into that end. We know\nthat sometimes it is only by accident that the desirable end is not\neffected, but we also know that without the proper disposition it is\nonly by accident that the results _are_ achieved. Moreover, we know that\nour own attitude is not only an important condition of securing the\nresults, but that it is the only condition _constantly_ under our\ncontrol. What we mean by calling it \"ours\" is precisely that it is that\ncondition whose operation lies with us. Accordingly, it is the key and\nclue to the results, so far as they concern us. So far, given desire and\nendeavor, achievement is not necessary to volition.\n\n=\"Meaning Well.\"=--On the other hand, can a man justify himself on the\nground that he \"means well,\" if the \"meaning well\" does not _regulate\nthe overt acts_ that he performs, and hence the consequences that\nproceed from them? Are we not justified in suspecting a person's good\nfaith when his good intentions uniformly bring suffering to others? If\nwe do not question his good faith, do we not regard him as needing moral\nenlightenment, and a change of disposition? We distinguish in our\njudgments of good between the fanatic and the thoroughly selfish man,\nbut we do not carry this distinction to the point of approving the\nfanatic; of saying, \"Let him alone; he means well, he has a good will,\nhe is actuated by a sense of duty.\" On the contrary, we condemn his\naims; and in so far we censure him for willingly entertaining ans\napproving them. We may, indeed, approve of his character with respect to\nits sincerity, singleness of aim, and its thoroughness of effort, for\nsuch things, _taken by themselves_, or in the abstract, are good traits\nof character. We esteem them highly, however, just because they have so\nmuch to do with results; they are, _par excellence_, executive traits.\nBut we do not approve of the man's whole character in approving these\ntraits. There is something the matter with the man in whom good traits\nare put to a bad use. It is not true in such cases that we approve the\n_agent_ but condemn his _acts_. We approve certain phases of conduct,\nand in so far regard the doer as praiseworthy; we condemn other features\nof acts, and in so far disapprove him.[120]\n\n=Overt Action Proves Will.=--Again, under what circumstances do we\nactually \"take the will for the deed\"? When do we assume that so far as\nthe will was concerned it did aim at the result and aimed at it\nthoroughly, without evasion and without reservation? Only when there is\n_some_ action which testifies to the real presence of the motive and\naim.[121] The man, in our earlier instance, must have made some effort\nto save the drowning child to justify either us or himself in believing\nthat he _meant_ to do it; that he had the right intent. The individual\nwho habitually justifies himself (either to others or to himself) by\ninsisting upon the rightness of his motives, lays himself open to a\ncharge of self-deception, if not of deliberate hypocrisy, if there are\nno outward evidences of effort towards the realization of his pretended\nmotive. A habitually careless child, when blamed for some disorder or\ndisturbance, seeks to excuse himself by saying he \"didn't mean to\":\ni.e., he had no intention or aim; the results did not flow morally from\nhim. We often reply, in effect, \"that is just the trouble; you didn't\nmean at all; you ought to have meant _not_ to do this.\" In other words,\nif you had thought about what you were doing you would not have done\nthis and would not have brought about the undesirable results. With\nadults there is such a thing as culpable carelessness and blameworthy\nnegligence. So far as the individual's conscious will was concerned,\neverything he deliberately intended may have been entirely praiseworthy;\nbut we blame him because his character was such that the end appropriate\nto the circumstances did not occur to him. We do not disapprove when the\nfailure to think of the right purpose is due to inexperience or to lack\nof intellectual development; but we do blame when the man does not\nemploy his attained experience and intellectual capacity. Given these\nfactors, if the right end is not thought of or is quickly dismissed,\nindisposition is the only remaining explanation. These two facts, that\nwe require effort or evidence of sincerity of good will and that the\ncharacter is disapproved for _not_ entertaining certain aims, are\nsufficient to prove that we do not identify will and motive with\nsomething which has nothing to do with \"aptness for attaining ends.\"\nWill or character _means intelligent forethought of ends and resolute\nendeavor to achieve them_. It cannot be conceived apart from _ends_\npurposed and desired.\n\n\nSec. 2. THE \"INTENTION\" OF THE UTILITARIANS\n\n=Emphasis of Utilitarians upon Ends.=--We are brought to the opposite\ntype of moral theory, the utilitarian, which finds moral quality to\nreside in consequences, that is to say, in the ends achieved. To the\nutilitarians, motive means simply certain states of consciousness which\nhappen to be uppermost in a man's mind as he acts. Not this subjective\nfeeling existing only in the inner consciousness, but the external\noutcome, the objective change which is made in the common world, is\nwhat counts. If we can get the act done which produces the right sort of\nchanges, which brings the right kind of result to the various persons\nconcerned, it is irrelevant and misleading to bother with the private\nemotional state of the doer's mind. Murder would be none the less murder\neven if the consciousness of the killer were filled with the most\nmaudlin sentiments of general philanthropy; the rescue of a drowning man\nwould be none the less approvable even if we happened to know that the\nconsciousness of the rescuer were irritable and grumpy while he was\nperforming the deed. Acts, not feelings, count, and acts mean changes\nactually effected.[122]\n\n=Distinction of Intention from Motive.=--The utilitarians make their\npoint by distinguishing between intention and motive, attributing moral\nvalue exclusively to the former. According to them, intention is _what_\na man means to do; motive is the personal frame of mind which indicates\n_why_ he means to do it. Intention is the concrete aim, or purpose; the\nresults which are foreseen and wanted. Motive is the state of mind which\nrenders these consequences, rather than others, interesting and\nattractive. The following quotations are typical. Bentham says\nconcerning motives:\n\n    \"If they are good or bad, it is only on account of their effects:\n    good, on account of their tendency to produce pleasure, or avert\n    pain: bad, on account of their tendency to produce pain, or avert\n    pleasure. Now the case is, that from one and the same motive, and\n    from every kind of motive, may proceed actions that are good,\n    others that are bad, and others that are indifferent.\"\n\nConsequently the question of motive is totally irrelevant. He goes on to\ngive a long series of illustrations, from which we select one:\n\n    \"1. A boy, in order to divert himself, reads an inspiring book;\n    the motive is accounted, perhaps, a good one: at any rate, not a\n    bad one. 2. He sets his top a-spinning: the motive is deemed at\n    any rate not a bad one. 3. He sets loose a mad ox among a crowd:\n    his motive is now, perhaps, termed an abominable one. Yet in all\n    three cases the motive may be the very same: it may be neither\n    more nor less than curiosity.\"[123] Mill writes to the following\n    effect: \"The morality of the action depends entirely upon the\n    _intention_----that is, upon _what_ the agent wills to do. But the\n    motive, that is, the feeling which made him will so to do, when it\n    makes no difference in the act, makes none in the morality.\"[124]\n\nNow if motives were merely inert feelings or bare states of\nconsciousness happening to fill a person's mind apart from his desires\nand his ideas, they certainly would not modify his acts, and we should\nbe compelled to admit the correctness of this position. But Mill gives\nthe whole case away when he says that the motive which makes a man will\nsomething, \"_when it makes no difference in the act_,\" makes none in its\nmorality. Every motive does make a difference in the act; it makes\nprecisely the difference between one act and another. It is a\ncontradiction in terms to speak of the motive as that _which makes a\nman_ will to do an act or intend to effect certain consequences, and\nthen speak of the motive making no difference to the act! How can that\nwhich makes an intention make no difference to it, and to the act which\nproceeds from it?\n\n=Concrete Identity of Motive and Intention.=--Ordinary speech uses\nmotive and intention interchangeably. It says, indifferently, that a\nman's motive in writing a letter was to warn the person addressed or was\nfriendliness. According to Bentham and Mill, only so-called states of\nconsciousness in which one feels friendly can be called motive; the\nobject aimed at, the warning of the person, is intention, not motive.\nAgain ordinary speech says either that a doctor's intention was to\nrelieve his patient, or that it was kind and proper, although the act\nturned out badly. But the utilitarians would insist that only the first\nusage is correct, the latter confounding intent with motive. In general,\nsuch large terms as ambition, revenge, benevolence, patriotism, justice,\navarice, are used to signify both motives and aims; both dispositions\n_from_ which one acts and results _for_ which one acts. It is the gist\nof the following discussion that common speech is essentially correct in\nthis interchangeable use of intention and motive. The same set of real\nfacts, _the entire voluntary act_, is pointed to by both terms.\n\n=Ambiguity in Term \"Feelings.\"=--There is a certain ambiguity in the\nterm \"feelings\" as employed by Mill and Bentham. It may mean feelings\napart from ideas, blind and vague mental states unenlightened by\nthought, propelling and impelling tendencies undirected by either memory\nor anticipation. Feelings then mean sheer instincts or impulses. In this\nsense, they are, as Bentham claims, without moral quality. But also in\nthis sense there are no intentions with which motives may be contrasted.\nSo far as an infant or an insane person is impelled by some blind\nimpulsive tendency, he foresees nothing, has no object in view, means\nnothing, in his act; he acts without premeditation and intention.\n\"Curiosity\" of this sort may be the source of acts which are harmful or\nuseful or indifferent. But no consequences were intelligently foreseen\nor deliberately wished for, and hence the acts in question lie wholly\noutside the scope of morals, even according to the utilitarian point of\nview. Morality is a matter of intent, and intent there was none.\n\n=Motive as Intelligent.=--In some cases, then, motives have no moral\nquality whatsoever, and, _in these cases_, it is true that intention has\nno moral quality either, because there is none. Intention and motive\nare morally on the same level, not opposed to one another. But motive\nmeans not only blind feeling, that is, impulse without thought; it also\nmeans a tendency which is aware of its own probable outcome when carried\ninto effect, and which is interested in the resulting effect. It is\nperhaps conceivable that a child should let loose a bull in a crowd from\nsheer innocent curiosity to see what would happen--just as he might pour\nacid on a stone. But if he were a normal child, the next time the\nimpulse presented itself he would recall the previous result: the\nfright, the damage, the injury to life and limb, and would foresee that\nsimilar consequences are likely to happen if he again performs a like\nact. He now has what Bentham and Mill call an intention. Suppose he\nagain lets loose the bull. Only verbally is motive now the same that it\nwas before. In fact, curiosity is a very different thing. If the child\nis still immature and inexperienced and unimaginative, we might content\nourselves with saying that his motive is egoistic amusement; but we may\nalso say it is downright malevolence characteristic of a criminal. In no\ncase should we call it curiosity. When foresight enters, intent, purpose\nenters also, and with it a change of motive from innocent, because\nblind, impulse, to deliberate, and hence to virtuous or blameworthy\ninterest in effecting a certain result. Intention and motive are upon\nthe same moral level. Intention is the _outcome_ foreseen and wanted;\nmotive, this outcome _as_ foreseen and wanted. But the voluntary act, as\nsuch, is an _outcome, forethought and desired_, and hence attempted.\n\nThis discussion brings out the positive truth for which Bentham and Mill\nstand: _viz._, that _the moral quality of any impulse or active tendency\ncan be told only by observing the sort of consequences to which it leads\nin actual practice_. As against those who insist that there are certain\nfeelings in human nature so sacred that they do not need to be measured\nor tested by noting the consequences which flow from them, so sacred\nthat they justify an act _no matter what its results_, the utilitarians\nare right. It is true, as Bentham says, that if motives are good or bad\nit is on account of their effects. Hence we must be constantly\nconsidering the effects of our various half-impulsive, half-blind,\nhalf-conscious, half-unconscious motives, in order to find out what sort\nof things they are--whether to be approved and encouraged, or\ndisapproved and checked.\n\n=Practical Importance of Defining Springs to Action by Results.=--This\ntruth is of practical as well as of theoretical significance. Many have\nbeen taught that certain emotions are inherently so good that they are\nabsolutely the justification of certain acts, so that the individual is\nabsolved from any attention whatsoever to results. Instance \"charity,\"\nor \"benevolence.\" The belief is engrained that the emotion of pity, of\ndesire to relieve the sufferings of others, is intrinsically noble and\nelevating. Hence it has required much discussion and teaching to bring\nhome, even partially, the evils of indiscriminate giving. The fact is\nthat pity, sympathy, apart from forecast of specific results to be\nreached by acting upon it, is a mere psychological reaction, as much so\nas is shrinking from suffering, or as is a tendency to run away from\ndanger; in this blind form it is devoid of any moral quality whatsoever.\nHence to teach that the feeling is good in itself is to make its mere\ndischarge an end in itself. This is to overlook the evil consequences in\nthe way of fraud, laziness, inefficiency, parasitism produced in others,\nand of sentimentality, pride, self-complacency produced in the self.\nThere is no doubt that the effect of some types of moral training is to\ninduce the belief that an individual may develop goodness of character\nsimply by cultivating and keeping uppermost in his consciousness certain\ntypes of feelings, irrespective of the objective results of the acts\nthey lead to--one of the most dangerous forms of hypocrisy and of\nweakened moral fiber. The insistence of utilitarianism that we must\nbecome aware of the moral quality of our impulses and states of mind on\nthe basis of the results they effect, and must control them--no matter\nhow \"good\" they feel--by their results, is a fundamental truth of\nmorals.\n\n=Existence and Influence of Idea of Consequences Depends upon\nDisposition.=--But the converse is equally true. Behind every concrete\npurpose or aim, as idea or thought of results, lies something, some\npassion, instinct, impulse, habit, interest, which gives it a hold on\nthe person, which gives it motor and impelling force; and which confers\nupon it the capacity to operate as motive, as spring to action.\nOtherwise, foreseen consequences would remain mere intellectual entities\nwhich thought might speculatively contemplate from afar, but which would\nnever possess weight, influence, power to stir effort. But we must go\nfurther. Not only is some active tendency in the constitution of the man\nresponsible for the motive power, whether attractive or otherwise, which\nforeseen consequences possess, but it is responsible for the fact that\nthis rather than that consequence is suggested. A man of consistently\namiable character will not be likely to have thoughts of cruelty to\nweigh and to dismiss; a man of greed will be likely to have thoughts of\npersonal gain and acquisition constantly present to him. What an\nindividual is interested in occurs to him; what he is indifferent to\ndoes not present itself in imagination or lightly slips away. Active\ntendencies, personal attitudes, are thus in the end the determining\ncauses of our having certain intentions in mind, as well as the causes\nof their active or moving influence. As Bentham says, motives _make_\nintentions.\n\n=Influence of Interest on Ideas.=--\"Purpose is but the slave of memory.\"\nWe can anticipate this or that only as from past experience we can\nconstruct it. But recall, re-membering (rearticulation) is selective. We\npick out certain past results, certain formerly experienced results, and\nwe ignore others. Why? Because of our present interests. We are\ninterested in this or that, and accordingly it comes to mind and dwells\nthere; or it fails to appear in recollection, or if appearing, is\nquickly dismissed. It is important that the things from the past, which\nare relevant to our present activity, should come promptly to mind and\nfind fertile lodgment, and character decides how this happens.\n\nSays James:[125]\n\n    \"What constitutes the difficulty for a man laboring under an\n    unwise passion acting as if the passion were unwise?... The\n    difficulty is mental; it is that of getting the idea of the wise\n    action to stay before our mind at all. When any strong emotional\n    state whatever is upon us the tendency is for no images but such\n    as are congruous with it to come up. If others by chance offer\n    themselves, they are instantly smothered and crowded out.... By a\n    sort of self-preserving instinct which our passion has, it feels\n    that these chill objects [the thoughts of what is disagreeable to\n    the passion] if they once but gain a lodgment, will work and work\n    until they have frozen the very vital spark from out of all our\n    mood.... Passion's cue accordingly is always and everywhere to\n    prevent their still small voice from being heard at all.\"\n\nThis quotation refers to a strong passion. It is important to note _that\nevery interest, every emotion, of whatever nature or strength, works in\nprecisely the same way_. Upon this hangs the entertaining of memories\nand ideas about things. Hence interest is the central factor in the\ndevelopment of any concrete intention, both as to what it is and as to\nwhat it is not--that is, what the aim would have been if the emotional\nattitude had been different. Given a certain emotional attitude, and the\nconsequences which are pertinent to it are thought of, while other and\nequally probable consequences are ignored. A man of a truly kindly\ndisposition is sensitive to, aware of, probable results on other\npeople's welfare; a cautious person sees consequences with reference to\nhis own standing; an avaricious man feels results in terms of the\nprobable increase or decrease of his possessions; and so on. The\nintimate relation of interest and attention forms the inseparable tie of\nintention, _what_ one will, to motive, _why_ he so wills. When Bentham\nsays that \"Motives are the causes of intentions,\" he states the fact,\nand also reveals motive as the proper final object of moral judgment.\n\n\nSec. 3. CONDUCT AND CHARACTER\n\nThe discussion enables us to place conduct and character in relation to\neach other. Mill, after the passage already quoted (see above, p. 248),\nto the effect that motive makes no difference to the morality of the\nact, says it \"makes a great difference in our moral estimation of the\n_agent_, especially if it indicates a good or a bad habitual\n_disposition_--a bent of character from which useful, or from which\nhurtful, actions are likely to arise.\" To like effect Bentham:\n\n    \"Is there nothing, then,\" he asks,[126] \"about a man which can be\n    termed good or bad, when on such or such an occasion, he suffers\n    himself to be governed by such and such a motive? Yes, certainly,\n    his _disposition_. Now disposition is a kind of fictitious\n    entity,[127] feigned for the convenience of discourse, in order\n    to express what there is supposed to be _permanent_ in a man's\n    frame of mind, where, on such or such an occasion, he has been\n    influenced by such or such a motive, to engage in an act, which,\n    as it appeared to him, was of such or such a tendency.\" He then\n    goes on to say that disposition is good or bad according to its\n    effects. \"A man is said to be of a mischievous[128] disposition,\n    when by the influence of no matter what motives, he is _presumed_\n    to be more apt to engage, or form intentions of engaging, in acts\n    which are _apparently_ of a pernicious tendency than in such as\n    are apparently of a beneficial tendency: of a meritorious or\n    beneficent disposition in the opposite case.\"[129] And again: \"It\n    is evident that the nature of a man's disposition must depend upon\n    the nature of the motives he is apt to be influenced by; in other\n    words, upon the degree of his sensibility to the force of such and\n    such motives. For his disposition is, as it were, the sum of his\n    intentions.... Now, intentions, like everything else, are produced\n    by the things that are their causes: _and the causes of intentions\n    are motives_. If, on any occasion, a man forms either a good or a\n    bad intention, it must be by the influence of some motive.\"[130]\n\n=Role of Character.=--Here we have an explicit recognition of the\nfundamental role of character in the moral life; and also of why it is\nimportant. Character is that body of active tendencies and interests in\nthe individual which make him open, ready, warm to certain aims, and\ncallous, cold, blind to others, and which accordingly habitually tend to\nmake him acutely aware of and favorable to certain sorts of\nconsequences, and ignorant of or hostile to other consequences. A\nselfish man need not consciously think a great deal of himself, nor need\nhe be one who, after deliberately weighing his own claims and others'\nclaims, consciously and persistently chooses the former. The number of\npersons who after facing the entire situation, would still be\nanti-social enough deliberately to sacrifice the welfare of others is\nprobably small. But a man will have a selfish and egoistic character\nwho, irrespective of any such conscious balancing of his own and others'\nwelfare, is habitually more accessible to the thought of those\nconsequences which affect himself than he is to those which bear upon\nothers. It is not so much that _after_ thinking of the effect upon\nothers he declines to give these thoughts any weight, as that he\nhabitually fails to think at all, or to think in a vivid and complete\nway, of the interests of others. As we say, he does not care; he does\nnot consider, or regard, others.[131]\n\n=Partial and Complete Intent.=--To Mill's statement that morality\ndepends on intention not upon motive, a critic objected that on this\nbasis a tyrant's act in saving a man from drowning would be good--the\nintent being rescue of life--although his motive was abominable, namely\ncruelty, for it was the reservation of the man for death by torture.\nMill's reply is significant. Not so, he answered; there is in this case\na difference of intention, not merely of motive. The rescue was not the\nwhole act, but \"only the necessary first step of an act.\" This answer\nwill be found to apply to every act in which a superficial analysis\nwould seem to make intent different in its moral significance from\nmotive. Take into account the remote consequences in view as well as the\nnear, and the seeming discrepancy disappears. The intent of rescuing a\nman and the motive of cruelty are both descriptions of the same act, the\nsame moral reality; the difference lying not in the fact, but in the\npoint of view from which it is named. Now there is in every one a\ntendency to fix in his mind only a part of the probable consequences of\nhis deed; the part which is most innocent, upon which a favorable\nconstruction may most easily be put, or which is temporarily most\nagreeable to contemplate. Thus the person concentrates his thought, his\nforecast of consequences upon external and indifferent matters, upon\ndistribution of commodities, increase of money or material resources,\nand upon positively valuable results, at the expense of other\nchanges----changes for the worse in his disposition and in the\nwell-being and freedom of others. Thus he causes to stand out in strong\nlight all of those consequences of his activity which are beneficial and\nright, and dismisses those of another nature to the dim recesses of\nconsciousness, so they will not trouble him with scruples about the\nproper character of his act. Since consequences are usually more or less\nmixed, such half-conscious, half-unconscious, half-voluntary,\nhalf-instinctive selection easily becomes a habit. Then the individual\nexcuses himself with reference to the actual bad results of his behavior\non the ground that he \"meant well,\" his \"intention was good\"! Common\nsense disposes of this evasion by recognizing the reality of \"willing.\"\nWe say a man is \"willing\" to have things happen when, in spite of the\nfact that in and of themselves they are objectionable and hence would\nnot be willed in their isolation, they are consented to, because they\nare bound up with something else the person wants. And to be \"willing\"\nto have the harm follow is really to will it. _The agent intends or\nwills all those consequences which his prevailing motive or character\nmakes him willing under the circumstances to accept or tolerate._\n\nExactly the same point comes out from the side of motive. Motives are\ncomplex and \"mixed\"; ultimately the motive to an act is that _entire_\ncharacter of an agent on account of which one alternative set of\npossible results appeal to him and stir him. Such motives as pure\nbenevolence, avarice, gratitude, revenge, are abstractions; we name the\nmotive from the _general trend of the issue_, ignoring contributing and\nindirect causes. All _assigned_ motives are more or less _post-mortem_\naffairs. No _actuating_ motive is ever as simple as reflection\nafterwards makes it. But the justification of the simplification is that\nit brings to light some factor which needs further attention. No one can\nread his own motives, much less those of another, with perfect\naccuracy;--though the more sincere and transparent the character the\nmore feasible is the reading. Motives which are active in the depths of\ncharacter present themselves only obscurely and subconsciously. Now if\none has been trained to think that motive apart from intention, apart\nfrom view of consequences flowing from an act, is the source and\njustification of its morality, a false and perverse turn is almost sure\nto be given to his judgment. Such a person fosters and keeps uppermost\nin the focus of his perceptions certain states of feeling, certain\nemotions which he has been taught are good; and then excuses his act, in\nface of bad consequences, on the ground that it sprang from a good\nmotive. Selfish persons are always being \"misunderstood.\" Thus a man of\nnaturally buoyant and amiable disposition may unconsciously learn to\ncultivate superficially certain emotions of \"good-feeling\" to others,\nand yet act in ways which, judged by consequences that the man might\nhave foreseen if he had chosen to, are utterly hostile to the interests\nof others. Such a man may feel indignant when accused of unjust or\nungenerous behavior, and calling others to account for uncharitableness,\nbear witness in his own behalf that he never entertained any \"feelings\"\nof unkindness, or any \"feelings\" except those of benevolence, towards\nthe individual in question.[132] Only the habit of reading \"motives\" in\nthe light of persistent, thorough, and minute attention to the\nconsequences which flow from them can save a man from such moral error.\n\n\n\nSec. 4. MORALITY OF ACTS AND OF AGENTS\n\n=Subjective and Objective Morality.=--Finally we may discuss the point\nat issue with reference to the supposed distinction between subjective\nand objective morality--an agent may be good and his act bad or\n_vice-versa_. Both of the schools which place moral quality either in\nattitude or in content, in motive or intent independently of each other,\nagree in making a distinction between the morality of an act and the\nmorality of the agent--between objective and subjective morality.[133]\nThus, as we have seen, Mill says the motive makes a difference in our\nmoral estimate of its doer, even when it makes none in our judgment of\nhis action. It is a common idea that certain acts are right no matter\nwhat the motive of the doer, even when done by one with a bad\ndisposition in doing them. There can be no doubt that there is a serious\ndifficulty in the facts themselves. Men actuated by a harsh and narrow\ndesire for industrial power or for wealth produce social benefits,\nstimulate invention and progress, and raise the level of social life.\nNapoleon was doubtless moved by vanity and vainglory to an extent\ninvolving immense disregard of others' rights. And yet in jurisprudence,\ncivil arrangements, and education he rendered immense social service.\nAgain, the \"conscientious man\" is often guilty of bringing great evils\nupon society. His very conviction of his own rightness may only add to\nthe intense vigor which he puts into his pernicious acts. Surely, we\ncannot approve the conduct, although we are not entitled morally to\ncondemn the conscientious doer, who does \"the best he knows\"--or\nbelieves.\n\n=Moral Quality of Doer and Deed Proportionate.=--If we rule out\nirrelevant considerations, we find that we never, without qualification,\ninvert our moral judgments of doer and deed. So far as we regard\nNapoleon's actions as _morally_ good (not merely as happening to effect\ncertain desirable results) we give Napoleon credit for interest in\nbringing about those results, _and in so far forth_, call him good.\nCharacter, like conduct, is a highly complex thing. No human being is\nall good or all bad. Even if we were sure that Napoleon was an\nevil-minded man, our judgment is of him as evil _upon the whole_. Only\nif we suppose him to be bad and only bad all the time is there the\nopposition of evil character and good actions. We may believe that even\nin what Napoleon did in the way of legal and civic reform he was\nactuated by mixed motives--by vanity, love of greater, because more\ncentralized, power, etc. But these interests in and of themselves could\nnot have effected the results he accomplished. He must have had some\ninsight into a better condition of affairs, and this insight evidences\nan interest in so far good. Moreover, so far as we judge Napoleon bad as\nto his character and motive in these acts, we are entitled to hold that\nthe actions and also the outward results were also partially evil. That\nis, while to some extent, socially beneficial, they would have been\nstill more so if Napoleon had been actuated by less self-centred\nconsiderations. If his character had been simpler, more sincere, more\nstraightforward, then certain evil results, certain offsets to the good\nhe accomplished, would not have occurred. The mixture of good and evil\nin the results and the mixture of good and evil in the motives are\nproportionate to each other. Such is the conclusion when we recognize\nthe complexities of character and conduct, and do not allow ourselves\nto be imposed upon by a fictitious simplicity of analysis.\n\n=Summary.=--The first quality which is the object of judgment primarily\nresides then in intention: in the consequences which are foreseen and\ndesired. Ultimately it resides in that disposition or characteristics of\na person which are responsible for his foreseeing and desiring just such\nconsequences rather than others. The ground for judging an act on the\nbasis of consequences not foreseen is that the powers of a man are not\nfixed, but capable of modification and redirection. It is only through\ntaking into account in _subsequent_ acts consequences of _prior_ acts\nnot intended in those prior acts that the agent learns the fuller\nsignificance of his own power and thus of himself. Every builder builds\nother than he knows, whether better or worse. In no case, can he foresee\nall the consequences of his acts.\n\nIn subsequent experience these results, mere by-products of the original\nvolition, enter in. \"Outer\" and non-moral for the original act, they are\nwithin subsequent voluntary activity, because they influence desire and\nmake foresight more accurate in detail and more extensive in range. This\ntranslation of consequences once wholly unforeseeable into consequences\nwhich have to be taken in account is at its maximum in the change of\nimpulsive into intelligent action. But there is no act so intelligent\nthat its actual consequences do not run beyond its foreseen ones, and\nthus necessitate a subsequent revision of intention. Thus the\ndistinction of \"inner\" and \"outer\" is one involved in the _growth of\ncharacter and conduct_. Only if character were not in process of change,\nonly if conduct were a fixed because isolated thing, should we have that\nseparation of the inner and the outer which underlies alike the Kantian\nand the utilitarian theories. In truth, there is no separation, but only\na contrast of the different levels of desire and forethought of earlier\nand later activities. The great need of the moral agent is thus a\ncharacter which will make him as open, as accessible as possible, to the\nrecognition of the consequences of his behavior.\n\n\nLITERATURE\n\nOn CONDUCT AND CHARACTER in general, see Paulsen, _System of Ethics_,\npp. 468-472; Mackenzie, _Manual of Ethics_, Book I., ch. iii.; Spencer,\n_Principles of Ethics_, Part I., chs. i.-viii.; Green, _Prolegomena to\nEthics_, pp. 110-117, 152-159; Alexander, _Moral Order and Progress_,\npp. 48-52; Stephen, _Science of Ethics_, ch. ii.; Mezes, _Ethics_, ch.\niv.; Seth, _Ethical Principles_, ch. iii.\n\nUpon MOTIVE AND INTENTION consult Bentham, _Principles of Morals and\nLegislation_, chs. viii. and x.; James Mill, _Analysis of Human Mind_,\nVol. II., chs. xxii. and xxv.; Austin, _Jurisprudence_, Vol. I., chs.\nxviii.-xx.; Green, _Prolegomena_, pp. 315-325; Alexander, _Moral Order\nand Progress_, pp. 36-47; Westermarck, _Origin and Development of the\nMoral Ideas_, chs. viii., xi., and xiii.; Ritchie, _International\nJournal of Ethics_, Vol. IV., pp. 89-94, and 229-238, where farther\nreferences are given.\n\nUpon FORMAL AND MATERIAL (or subjective and objective) RIGHTNESS see\nSidgwick, _History of Ethics_, p. 200; Rickaby, _Moral Philosophy_, p.\n3, pp. 33-40; Bowne, _Principles of Ethics_, pp. 39-40; Brown,\n_Philosophy of Mind_, Vol. III., p. 489 and pp. 499-500; Paulsen,\n_System of Ethics_, pp. 227-233; Green, _Prolegomena_, pp. 317-323;\nSidgwick, _Methods of Ethics_, pp. 206-207.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[120] When Kant says that the coolness of a villain makes him \"more\ndangerous and more abominable,\" it is suggested that it is more\nabominable _because_ it is more dangerous--surely a statement of the\nvalue of will in terms of the results it tends to effect.\n\n[121] Kant's distinction between a mere wish, and \"assuming all the\nmeans in our power,\" appears to recognize this fact, but he does not\napply the fact in his theory.\n\n[122] But, as we shall see, the utilitarians make finally a distinction\nbetween ends _achieved_ and ends _attempted_.\n\n[123] Bentham, _Principles of Morals and Legislation_, ch. x., Sec. 3.\n\n[124] Mill, _Utilitarianism_.\n\n[125] _Psychology_, Vol. II., pp. 562-563. The whole passage, pp.\n561-569, should be thoroughly familiar to every ethical student; and\nshould be compared with what is said in Vol. I., pp. 284-290, about the\nselective tendency of feelings; and Vol. I., ch. xi., upon attention,\nand Vol. I., pp. 515-522, upon discrimination.\n\nHoeffding, _Psychology_ (translated), is also clear and explicit with\nreference to the influence of our emotions upon our ideas. (See\nespecially pp. 298-307.) The development of this fact in some of its\naspects is one of the chief traits of the Ethics of Spinoza.\n\n[126] _Principles of Morals and Legislation_, ch. xi., Sec. 1.\n\n[127] Bentham does not mean \"unreal\" by a fictitious entity. According\nto his logic, all general and abstract terms, all words designating\nrelations rather than elements, are \"fictitious entities.\"\n\n[128] By mischievous he means pernicious, bad, vicious, or even depraved\nin extreme cases.\n\n[129] _Ibid._, ch. xi., Sec. 3.\n\n[130] _Ibid._, Secs. 27 and 28.\n\n[131] The fact that common moral experience, as embodied in common\nspeech, uses such terms as \"think of,\" \"consider,\" \"regard,\" \"pay\nattention to\" (in such expressions as he is thoughtful of, considerate\nof, regardful of, mindful of, attentive to, the interests of others) in\na way implying both the action of intelligence and of the affections, is\nthe exact counterpart of the interchangeable use, already mentioned, of\nthe terms intention and motive.\n\n[132] In short, the way an individual favors himself in reading his own\nmotives is as much an evidence of his egoism as the way he favors\nhimself in outward action. Criminals can almost always assign \"good\"\nmotives.\n\n[133] \"Formally\" and \"materially\" good or bad are terms also employed to\ndenote the same distinction. (See Sidgwick, _History of Ethics_, pp.\n199-200; so Bowne, _Principles of Ethics_, pp. 39-40.) \"The familiar\ndistinction between the formal and the material rightness of action: The\nformer depends upon the attitude of the agent's will towards his ideal\nof right; the latter depends upon the harmony of the act with the laws\nof reality and its resulting tendency to produce and promote\nwell-being.\" Bowne holds that both are necessary, while formal rightness\nis ethically _more_ important, though not all important.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nHAPPINESS AND CONDUCT: THE GOOD AND DESIRE\n\n\nWe have reached a conclusion as to our first inquiry (p. 201), and have\ndecided that the appropriate subject-matter of moral judgment is the\ndisposition of the person as manifested in the tendencies which cause\ncertain consequences, rather than others, to be considered and\nesteemed--foreseen and desired. Disposition, motive, intent are then\njudged good or bad according to the consequences they tend to produce.\nBut what are the consequences by which we determine anything to be good\nor bad? We turn from the locus or residence of the distinctions of good\nand bad to the nature of the distinctions themselves. What do good and\nbad mean as terms of voluntary behavior?\n\n=Happiness and Misery as the Good and Bad.=--There is one answer to this\nquestion which is at once so simple and so comprehensive that it has\nalways been professed by some representative ethical theory: the good is\nhappiness, well-being, pleasure; the bad is misery, woe, pain.[134] The\nagreeableness or disagreeableness attending consequences differentiates\nthem into good and bad; and it is because some deeds are found to lead\nto pleasure, while others lead to pain, that they are adjudged virtuous\nor vicious. In its modern form, this theory is known as utilitarianism.\nBentham has given it a sweeping and clear formulation.\n\n    \"Nature has placed mankind under the governance of two sovereign\n    masters, pain and pleasure. It is for them alone to point out what\n    we ought to do as well as to determine what we shall do. On the\n    one hand, the standard of right and wrong, on the other chain of\n    causes and effects, are fastened to their throne.\"\n\n    \"Strictly speaking nothing can be said to be good or bad but\n    either in itself, which is the case only with pain or pleasure; or\n    on account of its effects, which is the case only with things that\n    are the cause or preventive of pain or pleasure.\" Again: \"By the\n    principle of utility is meant that principle which approves or\n    disapproves of every action whatever according to the tendency it\n    appears to have to augment or diminish the happiness of the party\n    whose interests are in question.\"[135] Once more: \"The greatest\n    happiness of all those whose interest is in question is the right\n    and proper, and the only right and proper and universally\n    desirable end of human action.\" \"Only on the basis of this\n    principle do the words 'right and wrong' and 'ought' have an\n    intelligent meaning as applied to actions; otherwise they have\n    not.\"\n\nThis last statement need not mean, however, that all judgments of right\nand wrong are as matter of fact derived from a consideration of the\nresults of action in the way of pain and pleasure, but that upon this\nground alone _should_ our judgments be formed, since upon this basis\nalone can they be justified.[136]\n\n=Axiomatic Identification of Good with Happiness.=--The principle that\nhappiness is the ultimate aim of human action and the ultimate standard\nof the moral value of that action is generally regarded by the\nutilitarians as axiomatic and not susceptible of proof. As Bentham says,\n\"that which is used to prove everything else cannot itself be proved. A\nchain of proofs must have their commencement somewhere.\" So Bain says\n(_Moral Science_, p. 27), \"Now there can be no proof offered for the\nposition that happiness is the proper end of all human procedures, the\ncriterion of all right conduct. It is an ultimate or final assumption to\nbe tested by reference to the individual judgments of mankind.\" Thus\nalso Mill (_Utilitarianism_): \"The only proof capable of being given\nthat an object is visible is that people actually see it. In like manner\nthe sole proof that it is possible to produce that anything is desirable\nis that people do actually desire it.\"[137]\n\n=Extreme Opposition to Happiness Theory.=--In striking contrast to this\nview of the self-evident character of happiness as the all-desirable, is\nthe view of those to whom it is equally self-evident that to make\npleasure the end of action is destructive of all morality. Carlyle is an\ninteresting illustration of a violent reaction against utilitarianism.\nHis more moderate characterization of it is \"mechanical profit and loss\"\ntheory. It is \"an upholstery and cookery conception of morals.\" It never\ngets above the level of considerations of comfort and expediency. More\nvehemently, it is a \"pig philosophy\" which regards the universe as a\n\"swine trough\" in which virtue is thought of as the attainment of the\nmaximum possible quantity of \"pig's wash.\" Again, apostrophizing man, he\nsays: \"Art thou nothing else than a Vulture that flies through the\nUniverse seeking after Somewhat to eat; shrieking dolefully because\nCarrion enough is not given thee?\" Of the attempt to make general\nhappiness the end, he says it proposes the problem of \"Given a world of\nKnaves, to produce honesty from their united action,\" the term \"knave\"\nreferring to the individualistic self-seeking character of pleasure and\n\"honesty\" to the social outcome desired. As a political theory, he\nthought that utilitarianism subordinated justice to benevolence, and in\nthat light he referred to it as a \"universal syllabub of philanthrophic\ntwaddle.\"\n\n=Ambiguity in Notion of Happiness.=--If to some it is self-evident that\nhappiness is the aim of action, and success in achieving it the test\nboth of the act and the disposition from which it proceeds; while to\nothers it is equally obvious that such a view means immorality or at\nleast a base and sordid morality, it is reasonable to suppose that the\n\"happiness\" does not mean the same to both parties; that there is some\nfundamental ambiguity in the notion.\n\n=Source of Ambiguity.=--The nature of this ambiguity may be inferred\nfrom the fact that Bentham himself--and in this he is typical of all the\nutilitarians--combines in his statement two aspects of happiness, or two\nviews of pleasure. He says it is for pleasure and pain alone to \"_point\nout what we ought to do_,\" that they are the only basis upon which our\njudgments of right and wrong _ought_ to be formed, or upon which they\ncan be justified. Other things _may_ be taken as pointing out what we\nought to do; other standards of judgment--caprice, sympathy, dogma--are\nemployed. But they are not the right and proper ones. Consideration of\nconsequences of the act in the way of effect upon the happiness and\nmisery of all concerned, furnishes the only proper way of regulating the\nformation of right ends. A certain happiness, that of results, is the\nstandard. But this presupposes that, in any case there is some end, and\none which may be improper because not in accord with the standard. Yet\nthis end also must be pleasure. Pleasure and pain \"determine what we\n_shall_ do,\" whether we act for the maximum of pleasures or not. The\n\"chain of causes\" as well as the \"standard of right\" is fastened to\nthem. We act for pleasure, even when we do not act for the pleasures\nfor which we ought to act. Pleasure or happiness thus appears in a\ndouble role. Only in the case of _right_ ends, is it the same happiness\nwhich serves as a moving spring and as standard of judgment. In other\ncases, it is one pleasure which is the end in view, and another\npleasure, one not in view, or at least not influencing action, which\nmeasures rightness. The essence, so to speak, of a wrong act is\nprecisely that the pleasures which produce it are not these pleasures\nwhich measure its goodness; the agent is not moved to act by those\npleasures and pains which as consequences settle its moral value, but by\nsome pleasure or pain which happens to be strongly felt at the moment of\naction.\n\n=Two Sorts of Good.=--Thus, even from Bentham's point of view, there is\na difference between real and apparent happiness, between the good which\nmoves to action and that which, being the standard, should move. If the\nend of _all_ acts is happiness and yet we require a consideration of\nresults to show us _what_ happiness we are justified in seeking, then\n\"happiness\" is in a highly ambiguous position. While from one\nstandpoint, it furnishes the standard of right and wrong; from another,\nit furnishes the moving spring of all wrong action; it is that which so\nsolicits and tempts us that we fail to employ the right standard for the\nregulation of our action, and hence go astray. It seems to some (as to\nCarlyle) that this distinction is so fundamental that it is absurd to\nsay that one and the same thing can be the standard of all right action\nand the moving spring of all wrong action. Hence they insist upon the\nfundamental opposition of virtue and happiness.\n\nMoreover, from Bentham's own point of view, there is a difference\nbetween the good which _first_ presents itself, which _first_ stirs\ndesire and solicits to action, and the good which being formed _after\nand upon the basis of consideration of consequences_, is the _right_\ngood. In calling the latter the _right_, we mean that it has authority\nover the end which first appears; and hence has supreme claim over\naction. So it is again evident that we are using happiness in two quite\ndifferent senses; so that if we call the first end that presents itself\nhappiness, the right end will be something else; or if we call the\nconsequences which measure the worth of the act happiness, then the\nfirst end ought to be called something else. If happiness is the\n_natural_ end of all desire and endeavor, it is absurd to say that the\nsame happiness ought to be the end. If all objects fall to the ground\nany way, we do not say they ought to fall. If all our acts are moved any\nway by pleasure and pain, this fact, just because it applies equally to\nall acts, throws no lights upon the rightness or wrongness of any one of\nthem. Or, on the other hand, if that for which we _should_ act is a kind\nof happiness which involves full consideration of consequences, it is\nmisleading to call that happiness from which we act \"blindly\" or without\nproper forethought.\n\nIf happiness is to be the same as the moral good, it must be after the\nright kind of happiness has been distinguished; namely, that which\ncommends itself after adequate reflection. Our criticism of Bentham will\nbe directed to showing that, so far as he conceives of happiness as\nsimply a sum of pleasures alike in quality, but differing only in\nquantity, he cannot make this distinction. As an early critic (Hazlitt)\nof Bentham said: \"Pleasure is that which is so in itself. Good is that\nwhich approves itself on reflection, or the _idea_ of which is a source\nof satisfaction. All pleasure is not, therefore (morally speaking),\nequally a good; for all pleasure does not equally bear reflecting upon.\"\nWe shall further try to show that the reason for Bentham's conceiving\nhappiness as simply a sum of pleasures is that he falls into the error\nalready discussed, of separating consequences from the disposition and\ncapacities or active tendencies of the agent. And that, when we correct\nthis error, the proper meaning of happiness turns out to be the\nsatisfaction, realization, or fulfillment of some _purpose and power of\nthe agent_. Thus we can distinguish between the false and unsatisfactory\nhappiness found in the expression of a more or less isolated and\nsuperficial tendency of the self, and the true or genuine good found in\nthe adequate fulfillment of a fundamental and fully related capacity. We\nshall first take up the discussion under the heads just brought out: I.\nHappiness _as the Natural End or Object of Desire_; II. Happiness _as\nStandard of Judgment_.\n\n\nSec. 1. THE OBJECT OF DESIRE\n\n=Hedonistic Theory of Desire.=--That phase of utilitarianism which holds\nthat the object of desire is pleasure, is termed hedonism, or sometimes\npsychological hedonism to distinguish it from ethical hedonism, the\ntheory that pleasure is the standard for judging acts. The fundamental\nfallacy of psychological hedonism has been well stated by Green to be\nsupposing that a desire can be aroused or created by the anticipation of\nits own satisfaction--i.e., in supposing that the idea of the pleasure\nof exercise arouses desire for it, when in fact the idea of exercise is\npleasant only if there be already some desire for it (Green,\n_Prolegomena to Ethics_, p. 168). Given a desire already in existence,\nthe idea of an object which is thought of as satisfying that desire will\nalways arouse pleasure, or be thought of as pleasurable. But hedonism\nfails to consider the radical difference between an object's arousing\npleasure, because it is regarded as satisfying desire, and the thought\nof a pleasure arousing a desire:--although the feeling of agreeableness\nmay intensify the movement towards the object. A hungry man thinks of a\nbeefsteak as that which would satisfy his appetite; his thought is at\nonce clothed with an agreeable tone and the conscious force of the\nappetite is correspondingly intensified; the miser thinks of gold in a\nsimilar way; the benevolent of an act of charity, etc. But in each case\nthe presence of the pleasurable element is dependent upon the thought of\nan object which is not pleasure--the beefsteak, the gold. The thought of\nthe object _precedes_ the pleasure and excites it because it is felt to\npromise the satisfaction of a desire.\n\n=Pleasure is the Felt Concomitant of Imagining a Desire Realized in Its\nAppropriate Object.=--The object of desire is not pleasure, but some\nobject is pleasurable because it is the congenial terminus of desire.\nThe pleasure felt is a _present_ pleasure, the pleasure which _now_\naccompanies the idea of the satisfied desire. It intensifies the desire\nin its present character, through opposition to the disagreeable tone of\nthe experienced lack and want.\n\n=1. Pleasures and Original Appetites.=--Biological instincts and\nappetites exist not for the sake of furnishing pleasure, but as\nactivities needed to maintain life--the life of the individual and the\nspecies. Their adequate fulfillment is attended with pleasure. Such is\nthe undoubted biological fact. Now if the animal be gifted with memory\nand anticipation, this complicates the process, but does not change its\nnature. The animal in feeling hungry may now consciously anticipate the\ngetting of food and may feel pleasure in the idea of food. The pleasure\nhenceforth attends not merely upon attained satisfaction of appetite,\nbut also upon appetite prior to satisfaction, so far as that anticipates\nits future satisfaction. But desire is still for the object, for the\nfood. If the desire is healthy, it will not depend for its origin upon\nthe recollection of a prior pleasure; the animal does not happen to\nrecall that it got pleasure from food and thus arouse a desire for more\nfood. The desire springs up naturally from the state of the organism.\nOnly a jaded and unhealthy appetite has to whip itself up by recalling\nprevious pleasures. But if there are many obstacles and discouragements\nin the way of getting the object which satisfies want, the anticipation\nof pleasure in its fulfillment may normally intensify the putting forth\nof energy, may give an extra reenforcement to flagging effort. In this\nway, the anticipation of pleasure has a normal place in the effective\ndirection of activities. But in any case, the desire and its own object\nare primary; the pleasure is secondary.\n\n=2. Pleasure and Acquired Desires.=--The same point comes out even more\nclearly when we take into account the so-called higher desires and\nsentiments--those which usually enter into distinctively moral\nquestions. In these cases it is no longer a matter of the original\ninstincts and appetites of the organism. Their place is taken by\nacquired habits and dispositions. The object of a benevolent desire is\nthe supplying of another's lack, or the increase of his good. The\npleasure which accompanies the doing of a kindness to others is not the\nobject, for the individual thinks of the kindly act as pleasure-giving\nonly because he already has a benevolent character which naturally\nexpresses itself in amiable desires. So far as he is not benevolent, the\nact will appear repulsive rather than attractive to him; and if it is\ndone, it will be not from a benevolent desire, but from a cowardly or an\navaricious desire, the pleasure in that case attending the thought of\nsome other objective consequence, such as escaping unpopularity. In like\nmanner, the aim to behave honestly, or to obey the civil law, or to love\none's country, leads to dwelling upon the acts and objects in which\nthese desires and intents may be fulfilled; and those objects which are\nthought of as affording fulfillment are necessarily put in a favorable\nand attractive light--they are regarded as sources of happiness. To a\npatriot the thought even of possible death may arouse a glow of\nsatisfaction as he thinks of this act as strengthening his country's\nexistence. But to suppose that this attendant pleasure is the aim and\nobject of desire is to put the cart before the horse.\n\n=3. Happiness and Desire.=--All men, then, may be said to desire\nhappiness. But this happiness is not dependent upon prior experiences of\npleasure, which, coming up in memory, arouse desire and rivet attention\nupon themselves. To say that the desire of a man is for happiness is\nonly to say that happiness comes in the fulfillment of desire, the\ndesires arising on their own account as expressions of a state of lack\nor incompletion in which the person finds himself. Happiness thus\nconceived _is dependent upon the nature of desire and varies with it,\nwhile desire varies with the type of character_. If the desire is the\ndesire of an honest man, then the prosperous execution of some honorable\nintent, the payment of a debt, the adequate termination of a trust, is\nconceived as happiness, as good. If it be the desire of a profligate,\nthen entering upon the riotous course of living now made possible by\ninheritance of property is taken as happiness--the one consummation\ngreatly to be wished. If we know what any person really finds desirable,\nwhat he stakes his happiness upon, we can read his nature. In happiness,\nas the anticipation of the satisfaction of desire, there is, therefore,\nno sure or unambiguous quality; for it may be a token of good or of bad\ncharacter, according to the sort of object which appeals to the person.\nThe present joy found in the idea of the completion of a purpose cannot\nbe the object of desire, for we desire only things absent. But the joy\nis a mark of the congruity or harmony of the thought of the object,\nwhatever it be--health, dissipation, miserliness, prodigality, conquest,\nhelpfulness--with the character of the agent. It is an evidence of the\nmoving force, the influence, the weight, of the conceived end; it\nregisters the extent in which the end is not a mere intellectual\nabstraction, but is a _motive_ (see p. 252). But the moral worth of this\nmotive depends upon the character of the end in which the person finds\nhis satisfaction.\n\n=4. Confusion of Future and Present Pleasure.=--It is the confusion of\n_present_ pleasure, attendant upon the thought of an object as\nsatisfying desire, with the pleasure that _will come when the desire is\nsatisfied_, that accounts for the persistence of the idea that pleasure\nis the object of desire. The fact that the object of desire is _now_\npleasurable is distorted into the statement that we _seek_ for an absent\npleasure.[138] A good illustration of the confusion is seen in the\nfollowing quotation:\n\n    \"The love of happiness must express the sole possible motive of\n    Judas Iscariot and of his Master; it must explain the conduct of\n    Stylites on his pillar or Tiberius at Caprae or a Kempis in his\n    cell or of Nelson in the cockpit of the Victory. It must be\n    equally good for saints and martyrs, heroes, cowards, debauches,\n    ascetics, mystics, misers, prodigals, men, women and babes in\n    arms\" (Leslie Stephen, _Science of Ethics_, p. 44).\n\nThis statement is true, as we have just seen, in the sense that\ndifferent persons find different things good in accordance with their\ndifferent characters or habitually dominant purposes; that each finds\nhis happiness in whatever he most sets his affections upon. Where a\nman's heart is, there will his treasure be also, and where that is which\na man regards as treasure, there also is the heart. A man's character is\nrevealed by the objects which make him happy, whether anticipated or\nrealized.\n\n=Our Ends are Our Happiness, Not a Means to It.=--But the fallacy is in\nthe words \"love of happiness.\" They suggest that all alike are seeking\nfor some one and the same thing, some one thing labeled \"happiness,\"\nidentical in all cases, differing in the way they look for it--that\nsaints and martyrs, heroes and cowards, all have just the same objective\ngoal in view--if they only knew it! In so far as it is true that there\nare certain fundamental conditions of the self which have to be\nsatisfied in order that there shall be a _true self and a true\nsatisfaction_, happiness is the same for all, and is the ultimate good\nof all. But this holds only of the _standard_ of happiness which makes\nany particular conception of happiness right or wrong, not to the\nconceptions actually entertained. To say that all are consciously and\ndeliberately after the same happiness is to pervert the facts. Happiness\nas standard means the genuine fulfillment of whatever is necessary to\nthe development and integrity of the self. In this sense, it is what men\n_ought_ to desire; it is what they do desire so far as they understand\nthemselves and the conditions of their satisfaction. But as natural or\npsychological end, it means that in which a man happens at a given time\nto find delectation, depending upon his uppermost wishes and strongest\nhabits. Hence the objection which almost every one, including the\nhedonists, feels to the statement that happiness is the conscious aim of\nconduct. It suggests that the objects at which we ordinarily aim are not\nsought for themselves, but for some ulterior gratification to ourselves.\nIn reality these ends, so far as they correspond to our capacity and\nintention, _are_ our happiness. All men love happiness--yes, in the\nsense that, having desires, they are interested in the objects in which\nthe desires may be realized, no matter whether they are worthy or\ndegraded. No; if by this be meant that happiness is something other than\nand beyond the conditions in which the powers of the person are brought\nout, and made effective; no, or if it means that all love that which\nreally will bring happiness.\n\n=Necessity for Standard.=--As many sorts of character, so many sorts of\nthings regarded as satisfactory, as constitutive of good. Not all\nanticipations when realized are what they were expected to be. The good\nin prospect may be apples of Sodom, dust and ashes, in attainment. Hence\nsome ends, some forms of happiness, are regarded as unworthy, not as\n\"real\" or \"true.\" While they appeared to be happiness during the\nexpectancy of desire, they are not approved as such in later reflection.\nHence the demand for some standard good or happiness by which the\nindividual may regulate the formation of his desires and purposes so\nthat the present and the permanent good, the good in desire and in\nreflection, will coincide--so that the individual will find that to be\nsatisfactory in his present view which will also permanently satisfy\nhim. From happiness as a conceived good we turn to happiness as\n_rightly_ conceived good; from happiness as result to happiness as\nstandard. As before, we begin with the narrower utilitarian conception.\n\n\nSec. 2. THE CONCEPTION OF HAPPINESS AS A STANDARD\n\n=Utilitarian Method.=--Hedonism means that pleasure is the end of human\naction, because the end of desire. Utilitarianism or universalistic\nhedonism holds that the pleasure of all affected is the standard for\njudging the worth of action,--not that conduciveness to happiness is the\nsole measure actually employed by mankind for judging moral worth, but\nthat it is the sole standard that should be employed. Many other tests\nmay actually be used, sympathy, prejudice, convention, caprice, etc.,\nbut \"utility\" is the one which will enable a person to judge _truly_\nwhat is right or wrong in any proposed course of action. The method laid\ndown by Bentham is as follows: Every proposed act is to be viewed with\nreference to its probable consequences in (a) _intensity_ of pleasure\nand pains; (b) their duration; (c) their certainty or uncertainty; (d)\ntheir nearness or remoteness; (e) their fecundity--i.e., the tendency of\na pleasure to be followed by others, or a pain by other pains; (f) their\n_purity_--i.e., the tendency of a pleasure to be followed by pains and\n_vice versa_; (g) their extent, that is, the number or range of persons\nwhose happiness is affected--with reference to whose pleasures and pains\neach one of the first six items ought also in strictness to be\ncalculated! Then sum up all the pleasures which stand to the credit side\nof the account; add the pains which are the debit items, or liabilities,\non the other; then take their algebraic sum, and \"the balance of it on\nthe side of pleasure will be the good tendency of the act upon the\nwhole.\"\n\n=Circle in Method.=--Bentham's argument depends wholly upon the\npossibility of both foreseeing and accurately measuring the amount of\nfuture pleasures and pains that will follow from the intention if it is\ncarried into effect, and of being able to find their algebraic sum. Our\nexamination will be directed to showing that we have here the same\nfallacy that we have just discussed; and that Bentham argues in a\ncircle. For the argument purports to measure present disposition or\nintent by summing up future units of pleasure or pain; but there is no\nway of estimating amounts of future satisfaction, the relative intensity\nand weight of future possible pain and pleasure experiences, except upon\nthe basis of present tendencies, the habitual aims and interests, of the\nperson. (1) The only way to estimate the relative amount (bulk,\nintensity, etc.) of a future \"lot\" of pleasure or pain, is by seeing how\nagreeable to _present_ disposition are certain anticipated consequences,\nthemselves not pleasures or pains at all. (2) The only basis upon which\nwe can be sure that there is a _right_ estimate of future satisfactions,\nis that we already have a good character as a basis and organ for\nforming judgment.\n\n=(1) How Pleasures and Pains are Measured.=--If we keep strictly to\nBentham's own conception of pleasures as isolated entities, all just\nalike in quality, but differing in quantity--in the two dimensions of\nintensity and duration--the scheme he recommends is simply impossible.\nWhat does it mean to say that one pleasure, as an external and future\nfact, is equal to another? What practical sense is there in the notion\nthat a pain may be found which is exactly equal to a pleasure, so that\nit may just offset it or reduce it to zero? How can one weigh the amount\nof pain in a jumping and long-continued toothache against, say, the\npleasure of some charitable deed performed under conditions which may\nbring on the toothache? What relevancy has the quantitative comparison\nto a judgment of moral worth? How many units of pleasure are contained\nin the fulfillment of the intention to go to war for one's country? How\nmany in the fulfillment of the intention to remain at home with one's\nfamily and secure profitable contracts from the government? How shall\nthe pains involved in each set be detected and have their exact\nnumerical force assigned them? How shall one set be measured over\nagainst the other? If a man is already a patriot, one set of\nconsequences comes into view and has weight; if one is already a coward\nand a money-grubber, another set of consequences looms up and its value\nis measured on a rule of very different scale.\n\n=Present Congeniality to Character Measures Importance.=--When we\nanalyze what occurs, we find that this process of comparing future\npossible satisfactions, to see which is the greater, takes place on\nexactly the opposite basis from that set forth by Bentham. We do not\ncompare results in the way of fixed amounts of pleasures and pains, but\nwe compare _objective_ results, changes to be effected in ourselves, in\nothers, in the whole social situation; during this comparison desires\nand aversions take more definite form and strength, so that we find the\nidea of one result more agreeable, more harmonious, to our present\ncharacter than another. _Then_ we say it is more satisfying, it affords\nmore pleasure than another. The satisfaction _now_ aroused in the mind\nat the thought of getting even with an enemy may be stronger than the\npainfulness of the thought of the harm or loss that will come to him or\nthan the thought of danger itself,--then the pleasures to follow from\nvengeance are esteemed more numerous, stronger, more lasting, etc., than\nthose which would follow from abstinence. Or, to say that satisfactions\nare about equal means that we are _now_ at a loss to choose between\nthem. But we are not at a loss to choose because certain future pains\nand pleasures present themselves in and of themselves as fixed amounts\nirrespective of our own wishes, habits, and plans of life. Similarly we\nmay speak of satisfactions being added to one another and the total sum\nincreased; or of dissatisfaction coming in as offsets and reducing the\namount of satisfaction. But this does not mean that pains and pleasures\nwhich we expect to arrive in the future are added and subtracted--what\nintelligible meaning can such a phrase possess? It means that as we\nthink first of this result and then of another, the present happiness\nfound in the anticipation of one is increased by the anticipation of the\nother; or that the results are so incompatible that the present\nsatisfaction, instead of swelling and expanding as from one thought to\nanother, is chilled and lessened. Thus we might find the thought of\nrevenge sweet (and thus give a high valuation to the units of pleasure\nto result from it), but be checked by the thought of the meanness of the\nact, or of how we would feel if some one else, whose good opinion we\nhighly esteem, should hear of it.\n\n=(2) Congeniality to a Good Character the Right Measure.=--The net\noutcome of this discussion is that the practical value of our acts is\ndefined to us at any given time by the satisfaction, or displeasure, we\ntake in the ideas of changes we foresee in case the act takes place. The\npresent happiness or distaste, depending upon the harmony between the\nidea in question and the character, defines for us the value of the\nfuture consequences: which is the reverse of saying that a calculation\nof future pains and pleasures determines for us the value of the act and\ncharacter. But this applies to any end as it happens to arise, not to\nthe end as we ought to form it; we are still without a standard. What\nhas been said applies to the criminal as well as to the saint; to the\nmiser and the prodigal and the wisely generous alike. The idea of a\ncertain result warms the heart of each, his heart being what it is. The\nassassin would not be one if the thought of a murder had not been\nentertained by him and if the thought had not been liked and\nwelcomed--made at home. Only upon the supposition that character is\nalready good can we trust judgment, first, to foresee all the\nconsequences that should be foreseen; and, secondly, to respond to each\nforeseen consequence with the right emotional stamp of like and dislike,\npleasure and pain. The Greeks said it is the object of a moral education\nto see that the individual finds his pleasure in the thought of noble\nends and finds his pain in the contemplation of base ends. Again, as\nAristotle said:\n\n    \"The good man wills the real object of intent, but what the bad\n    man desires may be anything; just as physically those in good\n    condition want things that are wholesome, while the diseased may\n    take anything to be healthful; for the good man judges correctly\"\n    (_Ethics_, Book III., 4, 4). And again: \"The good man is apt to go\n    right about pleasure, and the bad man is apt to go wrong\" (Book\n    II., 3, 7), and, finally, \"It is only to the good man that the\n    good presents itself as good, for vice perverts us and causes us\n    to err about the principle of action\" (Book III., 12, 10).\n\n=Principle of Quality of Pleasure as Criterion.=--Mill, still calling\nhimself a utilitarian, reaches substantially the same result by (a)\nmaking the _quality_ of pleasure, not its bulk or intensity, the\nstandard; and (b) referring differences in quality to differences in the\n_characters_ which experience them.\n\n    \"It is,\" he says, \"quite compatible with the principle of utility\n    to recognize the fact that some _kinds_ of pleasure are more\n    desirable and more valuable than others. Human beings have\n    faculties more elevated than the animal appetites, and, when once\n    made conscious of them, do not regard anything as happiness that\n    does not include their gratification.\"\n\nThe higher the capacity or faculty, the higher in quality the pleasure\nof its exercise and fulfillment, irrespective of bulk. But how do we\nknow which faculty _is_ higher, and hence what satisfaction is more\nvaluable? By reference to the experience of the man who has had the best\nopportunity to exercise all the powers in question.\n\n    \"Few human creatures would consent to be changed into any of the\n    lower animals, for a promise of the fullest allowance of a beast's\n    pleasure; no intelligent human being would consent to be a fool,\n    no instructed person would be an ignoramus, no person of feeling\n    and conscience would be selfish and base, even though they should\n    be persuaded that the fool, the dunce or the rascal is better\n    satisfied with his lot than they are with theirs.\" And again, \"It\n    is indisputable that the being whose capacities of enjoyment are\n    low has the greatest chance of having them fully satisfied; and a\n    highly endowed being will always feel that any happiness which he\n    can look for, as the world is constituted, is imperfect.... It is\n    better to be a human being dissatisfied than a pig satisfied;\n    better to be a Socrates dissatisfied than a fool satisfied. And if\n    the fool or the pig is of a different opinion, it is because he\n    only knows his own side of the question. The other party to the\n    comparison knows both sides.\"\n\nThe net result of our discussion is, then, (1) that happiness consists\nin the fulfillment in their appropriate objects (or the anticipation of\nsuch fulfillment) of the powers of the self manifested in desires,\npurposes, efforts; (2) true happiness consists in the satisfaction of\nthose powers of the self which are of higher quality; (3) that the man\nof good character, the one in whom these high powers are already active,\nis the judge, in the concrete, of happiness and misery. We shall now\ndiscuss\n\n\nSec. 3. THE CONSTITUTION OF HAPPINESS\n\nHappiness consists in the agreement, whether anticipated or realized, of\nthe objective conditions brought about by our endeavors with our desires\nand purposes. This conception of happiness is contrasted with the notion\nthat it is a sum or collection of separate states of sensation or\nfeeling.\n\n=1. One View Separates, while the Other Connects, Pleasure and Objective\nConditions.=--In one case, the agreeable feeling is a kind of psychical\nentity, supposed to be capable of existence by itself and capable of\nabstraction from the objective end of action. The pleasant _thing_ is\none thing; the pleasure, another; or, rather, the _pleasant thing_ must\nbe analyzed into two independent elements, the pleasure as _feeling_ and\nthe _thing_ with which it happens to be associated. It is the pleasure\nalone, _when dissociated_, which is the real end of conduct, an object\nbeing at best an external means of securing it. It is the pleasurable\nfeeling which happens to be _associated_ with food, with music, with a\nlandscape, that makes it good; health, art, are not good in themselves.\nThe other view holds that pleasure has no such existence by itself; that\nit is only a name for the _pleasant object_; that by pleasure is meant\nthe agreement or congruity which exists between some capacity of the\nagent and some objective fact in which this capacity is realized. It\nexpresses the way some object meets, fits into, responds to, an activity\nof the agent. To say that food is agreeable, means that food satisfies\nan organic function. Music is pleasant because by it certain capacities\nor demands of the person with respect to rhythm of hearing are\nfulfilled; a landscape is beautiful because it carries to fulfillment\nthe visual possibilities of the spectator.\n\n=2. Qualities of Pleasure Vary with Objects, and with Springs to\nAction.=--When happiness is conceived as an aggregate of states of\nfeeling, these are regarded as homogeneous in quality, differing from\none another only in intensity and duration. Their qualitative\ndifferences are not intrinsic, but are due to the different objects with\nwhich they are associated (as pleasures of hearing, or vision). Hence\nthey disappear when the pleasure is taken by itself as an end. But if\nagreeableness is precisely the agreeableness or congruousness of some\nobjective condition with some impulse, habit, or tendency of the agent,\nthen, of course, pure pleasure is a myth. Any pleasure is qualitatively\nunique, being precisely the harmony of one set of conditions with its\nappropriate activity. The pleasure of eating is one thing; the pleasure\nof hearing music, another; the pleasure of an amiable act, another; the\npleasure of drunkenness or of anger is still another. Hence the\npossibility of absolutely different moral values attaching to pleasures,\naccording to the type or aspect of character which they express. But if\nthe good is only a sum of pleasures, any pleasure, so far as it goes, is\nas good as any other--the pleasure of malignity as good as the pleasure\nof kindliness, simply as pleasure. Accordingly Bentham said, the\npleasure of push-pin (a game) is as good as that of poetry. And as he\nsaid again, since pleasure is the motive of every act, there is no\nmotive which _in itself_, and as far as it goes, is not good--it is bad\nonly if it turns out in the end to produce more pain than pleasure. The\npleasure of malignant gossip is so far as it is pleasure a mitigation of\nthe badness of the act. Not so, if happiness is the experience into\nwhich pleasures enter so far as the tendencies of character that produce\nthem are approved of. An act may bring a pleasure and yet that pleasure\nbe no part of happiness, but rather a blot and blemish. Such would be\nthe case, for example, with the pleasure which one might take in an act\nof charity because one had thereby put himself in a position superior to\nthat of the recipient. A good man who caught himself feeling pleasure\nfrom this phase of the act would not regard this pleasure as a further\nelement of good attained, but as detracting from his happiness. A\npleasure may be accepted or reacted against. So far as not acquiesced in\nit is, from the standpoint of happiness, positively disagreeable.\nSurrender to a pleasure, taking it to be one's happiness, is one of the\nsurest ways of revealing or discovering what sort of a man one is. On\nthe other hand, the pain which a miserly man feels in his first acts of\ngenerosity may be welcomed by him as, under the circumstances, an\nelement in his good, since it is a sign of and factor in the improvement\nof character.\n\n=3. The Unification of Character.=--Happiness as a sum of pleasures does\nnot afford a basis for unifying or organizing the various tendencies and\ncapacities of the self. It makes possible at best only a mechanical\ncompromise or external adjustment. Take, for example, the satisfaction\nattendant upon acting from a benevolent or a malicious impulse. There\ncan be no question that some pleasure is found in giving way to either\nimpulse when it is strongly felt. Now if we regard the pleasure as a\nfixed state in itself, and good or happiness as a sum of such states,\nthe only moral superiority that can attach to acting benevolently is\nthat, upon the whole, _more_ units of pleasure come from it than from\ngiving way to the opposite spring of action. It is simply a question of\ngreater or less quantity in the long run. Each trait of character, each\nact, remains morally independent, cut off from others. Its only relation\nto others is that which arises when its results in the way of units of\nagreeable or painful feeling are compared, as to bulk, with analogous\nconsequences flowing from some other trait, or act. But if the\nfundamental thing in happiness is the relation of the desire and\nintention of the agent to its own successful outlet, there is an\ninherent connection between our different tendencies. The satisfaction\nof one tendency strengthens itself, and strengthens allied tendencies,\nwhile it weakens others. A man who gives way easily to anger (and finds\ngratification in it) against the acts of those whom he regards as\nenemies, nourishes unawares a tendency to irritability in all directions\nand thus modifies the sources and nature of all satisfaction. The man\nwho cherishes the satisfaction he derives from a landscape may increase\nhis susceptibility to enjoyment from poetry and pictures.\n\n=The Final Question.=--The final question of happiness, the question\nwhich marks off true and right happiness from false and wrong\ngratification, comes to this: Can there be found ends of action,\ndesirable in themselves, which reenforce and expand not only the motives\nfrom which they directly spring, but also the other tendencies and\nattitudes which are sources of happiness? Can there be found powers\nwhose exercise confirms ends which are stable and weakens and removes\nobjects which occasion only restless, peevish, or transitory\nsatisfaction, and ultimately thwart and stunt the growth of happiness?\nHarmony, reenforcement, expansion are the signs of a true or moral\nsatisfaction. What is the good which while good in direct enjoyment also\nbrings with it fuller and more continuous life?\n\n\nLITERATURE\n\nFor pleasure as the object of desire and the psychology of hedonism, see\nBain, _Emotions and Will_, Part II., ch. viii.; Rickaby, _Moral\nPhilosophy_, pp. 54-61, and _Aquinas Ethicus_, Vol. I., pp. 104-121;\nSidgwick, _Methods of Ethics_, pp. 34-47, and the whole of Book II., and\nBook III., chs. xiii. and xiv.; Mackenzie, _Manual of Ethics_, Book II.,\nch. iv.; Muirhead, _Elements of Ethics_, Book III., ch. i.; Gizyeki, _A\nStudent's Manual of Ethical Philosophy_; Green, _Prolegomena to Ethics_,\npp. 163-177, 226-240, 374-388; James, _Principles of Psychology_, Vol.\nII., pp. 549-559; Martineau, _Types of Ethical Theory_, Vol. II., Part\nII., Book II., Branch iv.\n\nFor the history of hedonism, see Wallace, _Epicureanism_; Pater, _Marius\nthe Epicurean_; Sidgwick, _History of Ethics_, ch. ii., _passim_ and ch.\niv., Sec. 14-17; Hume, _Treatise of Human Nature_, Book III., and the\nreferences to Bentham and Mill in the text; Watson, _Hedonistic Theories\nfrom Aristippus to Spencer_.\n\nFor the utilitarian standard, see Lecky, _History of European Morals_,\nVol. I., ch. i.; Stephen, _Science of Ethics_, chs. iv. and v.; Spencer,\n_Principles of Ethics_, Part I.; Hoeffding, _Ethik_, ch. vii., and\n_Monist_, Vol. I., p. 529; Paulsen, _System of Ethics_, pp. 222-286, and\n404-414; Grote, _Examination of the Utilitarian Philosophy_; Wilson and\nFowler, _Principles of Morals_, Vol. I., pp. 98-112; Vol. II., pp.\n262-273; Green, _Prolegomena_, pp. 240-255, 399-415; Martineau, _Types_,\npp. 308-334; Alexander, _Moral Order and Progress_, pp. 204-211; Seth,\n_Principles of Ethics_, pp. 94-111; Sidgwick, _The Ethics of T. H.\nGreen, Herbert Spencer and J. Martineau_, Lectures I.-IV. of the\nCriticism of Spencer. Compare the references _sub voce_ Happiness,\n899-903, in Rand's _Bibliography_, Vol. III. of Baldwin's Dictionary of\nPhilosophy and Psychology.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[134] Later we shall see reasons for discriminating between happiness\nand pleasure. But here we accept the standpoint of those who identify\nthem.\n\n[135] The context shows that this \"party\" may be either the individual,\nor a limited social group or the entire community. Even the pleasures\nand pains of animals, of the sentient creation generally, may come into\nthe account.\n\n[136] These quotations are all taken from Bentham's _Principles of\nMorals and Legislation_; the first, third, and fourth from ch. i.; the\nsecond from ch. xiii.; and the last from ch. ii.\n\n[137] With these statements may he compared Spencer, _Principles of\nEthics_, pp. 30-32: Stephen, _Science of Ethics_, pp. 42. Sidgwick, in\nhis _Methods of Ethics_, holds that the axiomatic character of happiness\nas an end proves that the position is not empirical but intuitional or\n_a priori_. Only as we base ourselves on certain ultimate deliverances\nof conscience can we he said to know that happiness is the desirable end\nand that the happiness of one is just as intrinsically desirable as the\nhappiness of another. (See his _Methods of Ethics_, Book III., chs.\nxiii. and xiv.)\n\n[138] This ambiguity affects the statement quoted from Bentham that\npleasure and pain determine what we shall do. His implication is that\npleasure as _object_ of desire moves us; the fact is that _present_\npleasure, aroused by the idea of some object, influences us.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nHAPPINESS AND SOCIAL ENDS[139]\n\n\nIn form, the true good is thus an inclusive or expanding end. In\nsubstance, the only end which fulfills these conditions is the social\ngood. The utilitarian standard is social consequences. To repeat our\nearlier quotation from Bentham (above, p. 264):\n\n    \"The greatest happiness of all those whose interest is in question\n    is the right and proper, and the only right and proper and\n    _universally desirable_ end of human action.\" Mill says, \"To do as\n    you would be done by, and to love your neighbor as yourself,\n    constitute the ideal perfection of utilitarian morality.\" And\n    again: \"The happiness which is the Utilitarian standard of what is\n    right in conduct is not the agent's own happiness, but that of all\n    concerned; as between his own happiness and that of others,\n    Utilitarianism requires him to be as strictly impartial as a\n    disinterested and benevolent spectator.\" So Sidgwick (_Methods of\n    Ethics_, p. 379): \"By Utilitarianism is here meant the ethical\n    theory, first distinctly formulated by Bentham, that the conduct\n    which under any given circumstances is externally or objectively\n    right is that which produces the greatest amount of happiness _on\n    the whole_; that is taking into account all whose happiness is\n    affected by the conduct. It would tend to clearness if we might\n    call this principle, and the method based upon it, by some such\n    name as Universalistic hedonism.\" And finally, Bain (_Emotions and\n    Will_, p. 303): \"Utility is opposed to the selfish principle, for,\n    as propounded, it always implies the good of society generally and\n    the subordination of individual interests to the general good.\"\n\n=Social Purpose of Utilitarianism.=--Its aim, then, was the \"greatest\npossible happiness of the greatest possible number,\" a democratic,\nfraternal aim. In the computation of the elements of this aim, it\ninsisted upon the principle of social and moral equality: \"every one to\ncount for one, and only for one.\" The standard was the well-being of the\ncommunity conceived as a community of individuals, all of whom had equal\nrights and none of whom had special privileges or exclusive avenues of\naccess to happiness. In a period in which the democratic spirit in\nEngland was asserting itself against vested interests and\nclass-distinctions, against legalized inequalities of all sorts, the\nutilitarian philosophy became the natural and perhaps indispensable\nadjunct of the liberal and reforming spirit in law, education, and\npolitics. Every custom, every institution, was cross-questioned; it was\nnot allowed to plead precedent and prior existence as a basis for\ncontinued existence. It had to prove that it conduced to the happiness\nof the community as a whole, or be legislated out of existence or into\nreform. Bentham's fundamental objection to other types of moral theories\nthan his own was not so much philosophic or theoretic as it was\npractical. He felt that every intuitional theory tended to dignify\nprejudice, convention, and fixed customs, and so to consecrate vested\ninterests and inequitable institutions.\n\n=Recognition by an Opponent.=--The following remarks by T. H. Green are\nthe more noteworthy because coming from a consistent opponent of the\ntheory:\n\n    \"The chief theory of conduct which in Modern Europe has afforded\n    the conscientious citizen a vantage ground for judging of the\n    competing claims on his obedience, and enabled him to substitute a\n    critical and intelligent for a blind and unquestioning conformity,\n    has no doubt been the Utilitarian. ... Whatever the errors arising\n    from its hedonistic psychology, no other theory has been available\n    for the social or political reformer, combining so much truth with\n    such ready applicability. No other has offered so commanding a\n    point of view from which to criticize the precepts and\n    institutions presented as authoritative.\"[140]\n\nAnd again, speaking of the possibility of practical service from theory,\nhe says:\n\n    \"The form of philosophy which in the modern world has most\n    conspicuously rendered this service has been the Utilitarian,\n    because it has most definitely announced the interest of humanity\n    without distinction of persons or classes, as the end by reference\n    to which all claims upon obedience are ultimately to be\n    measured.... Impartiality of reference to human well-being has\n    been the great lesson which the Utilitarian has had to\n    teach.\"[141]\n\n=Irreconcilable Conflict of Motive and End.=--But unfortunately the\nassertion that the happiness of all concerned is the \"universally\n_desirable_ end,\" is mixed up by early utilitarianism with an hedonistic\npsychology, according to which the _desired_ object is private and\npersonal pleasure. What is _desirable_ is thus so different from what is\n_desired_ as to create an uncrossable chasm between the true end of\naction--the happiness of all,--and the moving spring of desire and\naction--private pleasure. That there is a difference between what is\n_naturally_ desired (meaning by \"naturally\" what first arouses interest\nand excites endeavor) and what is morally desirable (understanding by\nthis the consequences which present themselves in adequate\ndeliberation), is certain enough. But the desirable must be _capable of\nbecoming_ desired, or else there is such a contradiction that morality\nis impossible. If, now, the object of desire is always private pleasure,\nhow can the recognition of the consequences upon the happiness or misery\nof others ever become an effective competitor with considerations of\npersonal well-being, when the two conflict?[142]\n\n=Lack of Harmony among Pleasurable Ends.=--If it so happens that the\nactivities which secure the personal pleasure also manage to affect\nothers favorably, so much the better; but since, by the theory, the\nindividual _must_ be moved exclusively by desire for his own pleasure,\nwoe betide others if their happiness happens to stand in the way.[143]\nIt could only be by accident that activities of a large number of\nindividuals all seeking their own private pleasures should coincide in\neffecting the desirable end of the common happiness. The outcome would,\nmore likely, be a competitive \"war of all against all.\" It is of such a\nsituation that Kant says: \"There results a harmony like that which a\ncertain satirical poem depicts as existing between a married couple bent\non going to ruin, 'Oh, marvelous harmony! what he wishes, she wishes\ntoo'; or like what is said of the pledge of Francis I. to the Emperor\nCharles V., 'What my brother wants, that I want too' (namely\nMilan).\"[144] The existence already noted of an unperceived and\nunreconcilable division between happiness _in the form of future\nconsequences_, and pleasure _as object of desire and present moving\nspring_, thus becomes of crucial and, for hedonistic utilitarianism, of\ncatastrophic importance. We shall first discuss the efforts of\nutilitarianism to deal with the problem.\n\n=Mill's Formal Method.=--We mention first a purely logical or formal\nsuggestion of Mill's, not because it is of very much significance one\nway or the other, but because it helps to bring out the problem.\n\n    \"No reason can be given why the general happiness is desirable,\n    except that each person, so far as he believes it to be\n    obtainable, desires his own happiness. This, however, being a\n    fact, we have not only all the proof which the case admits of, but\n    all which it is possible to require, that happiness is a good;\n    that each person's happiness is a good to that person; and the\n    general happiness, therefore, a good to the aggregate of all\n    persons.\"[145]\n\nIt clearly does not follow that because the good of A and B and C, etc.,\nis _collectively_, or aggregately, a good to A and B and C, etc., that\ntherefore the good of A and B and C, etc., or of anybody beyond A\nhimself, is regarded as a good by A--especially when the original\npremise is that A seeks his own good. Because all men want to be happy\nthemselves, it hardly follows that each wants all to be so. It does\nfollow, perhaps, that that would be the _reasonable_ thing to want. If\neach man desires happiness for himself, to an outside spectator looking\nat the matter in the cold light of intelligence, there might be no\nreason why the happiness of one should be any more precious or desirable\nthan that of another. From a mathematical standpoint, the mere fact that\nthe individual knows he wants happiness, and knows that others are like\nhimself, that they too are individuals who want happiness, might commit\neach individual, theoretically, to the necessity of regarding the\nhappiness of every other as equally sacred with his own. But the\ndifficulty is that there is no chance, upon the hedonistic psychology of\ndesire, for this rational conviction to get in its work, even if it be\nintellectually entertained. The intellectual perception and the\nmechanism of human motivation remain opposed. Mill's statement, in other\nwords, puts the problem which hedonistic utilitarianism has to solve.\n\nMaterially, as distinct from this formal statement, utilitarianism has\ntwo instrumentalities upon which it relies: one, internal, found in the\nnature of the individual; the other, external, or in social\narrangements.\n\n=I. Bentham's View of Sympathetic Pleasures.=--In the long list of\npleasures moving men to action which Bentham drew up, he included what\nhe called the social and the semi-social. The social are the pleasures\nof benevolence; the semi-social, the pleasures of amity (peace with\none's fellows) and of reputation.\n\n    \"The pleasures of benevolence are the pleasures resulting from the\n    view of any pleasures supposed to be possessed by the beings who\n    may be the objects of benevolence\" (_Principles of Morals and\n    Legislation_). And if it be asked what motives lying within a\n    man's self he has to consult the happiness of others, \"in answer\n    to this, it cannot but be admitted that the only interests which a\n    man at all times and upon all occasions is sure to find _adequate_\n    motives for consulting are his own. Notwithstanding this there are\n    no occasions on which a man has not some motives for consulting\n    the happiness of other men. In the first place, he has, on all\n    occasions, the purely social motive of sympathy and benevolence;\n    in the next place, he has, on most occasions, the semi-social\n    motives of amity and love of reputation\" (_Ibid._, ch. xix., Sec. 1).\n    So important finally are the sympathetic motives that he says \"The\n    Dictates of Utility are neither more nor less than the dictates of\n    the most extensive and enlightened (that is, well advised)[146]\n    benevolence\" (_Ibid._, ch. x., Sec. 4).\n\nIn short, we are so constituted that the happiness of others gives us\nhappiness, their misery creates distress in us. We are also so\nconstituted that, even aside from direct penalties imposed upon us by\nothers, we are made to suffer more or less by the knowledge that they\nhave a low opinion of us, or that we are not \"popular\" with them. The\nmore enlightened our activity, the more we shall see how by sympathy our\npleasures are directly bound up with others, so that we shall get more\npleasure by encouraging that of others. The same course will also\nindirectly increase our own, because others will be likely to esteem and\nhonor us just in the degree in which our acts conduce to their pleasure.\nA wise or enlightened desire for our own pleasure will thus lead us to\nregard the pleasures of others in our activities.\n\n=Limitations of Doctrine.=--To state the doctrine is almost to criticize\nit. It comes practically to saying that a sensible and prudent self-love\nwill make us pay due heed to the effect of our activities upon the\nwelfare of others. We are to be benevolent, but the reason is that we\nget more pleasure, or get pleasure more surely and easily, that way than\nin any other. We are to be kind, because upon the whole the net return\nof pleasure is greater that way. This does not mean that Bentham denied\nthe existence of \"disinterested motives\" in man's make-up; or that he\nheld that all sympathy is coldly calculating. On the contrary, he held\nthat sympathetic reactions to the well-being and suffering of others are\ninvolved in our make-up. But as it relates to _motives_ for action he\nholds that the sympathetic affections influence us only under the form\nof desire for our own pleasure: they make us rejoice in the rejoicing of\nothers, and move us to act that others may rejoice so that we may\nthereby rejoice the more. They do not move us to act as direct interests\nin the welfare of others for their own sake.[147] We shall find that\njust as Mill transformed the utilitarian theory of motives by\nsubstituting quality of happiness for quantity of pleasures, so he also\ntransformed the earlier Benthamite conception of both the internal and\nthe external methods for relating the happiness of the individual and\nthe welfare of society.\n\n=II. Mill's Criticism.=--Mill charges Bentham with overlooking the\nmotive in man which makes him love excellence for its own sake. \"Even\nunder the head of sympathy,\" he says:\n\n    \"his recognition does not extend to the more complex forms of the\n    feeling--the love of _loving_, the need of a sympathizing support,\n    or of an object of admiration and reverence.\"[148] \"Self culture,\n    the training by the human being himself of his affections and will\n    ... is a blank in Bentham's system. The other and co-equal part,\n    the regulation of his outward actions, must be altogether halting\n    and imperfect without the first; for how can we judge in what\n    manner many an action will affect the worldly interests of\n    ourselves or others unless we take in, as part of the question,\n    its influence on the regulation of our or their affections and\n    desires?\"[149]\n\nIn other words, Mill saw that the weakness of Bentham's theory lay in\nhis supposition that the factors of character, the powers and desires\nwhich make up disposition, are of value only as moving us to seek\npleasure; to Mill they have a worth of their own or are _direct_ sources\nand ingredients of happiness. So Mill says:\n\n    \"I regard any considerable increase of human happiness, through\n    mere changes in outward circumstances, unaccompanied by changes in\n    the state of desires, as hopeless.\"[150] And in his\n    _Autobiography_ speaking of his first reaction against Benthamism,\n    he says: \"I, for the first time, gave its proper place, among the\n    prime necessities of human well-being, to the internal culture of\n    the individual. I ceased to attach almost exclusive importance to\n    the ordering of outward circumstances.... The cultivation of the\n    feelings became one of the cardinal points in my ethical and\n    philosophical creed.\"[151]\n\n=The Social Affections as Direct Interest in Others.=--The importance of\nthis changed view lies in the fact that it compels us to regard certain\ndesires, affections, and motives as inherently worthy, because intrinsic\nconstituent factors of happiness. Thus it enables us to _identify_ our\nhappiness with the happiness of others, to find our good in their good,\nnot just to seek their happiness as, upon the whole, the most effective\nway of securing our own. Our social affections are direct interests in\nthe well-being of others; their cultivation and expression is at one and\nthe same time a source of good to ourselves, and, intelligently guided,\nto others. Taken in this light, it is sympathetic emotion and\nimagination which make the standard of general happiness not merely the\n\"desirable end,\" but the desired end, the effectively working object of\nendeavor.\n\n=Intrinsic Motivation of Regard for Others.=--If it is asked _why_ the\nindividual should thus regard the well-being of others as an inherent\nobject of desire, there is, according to Mill, but one answer: We cannot\nthink of ourselves save as to some extent _social_ beings. Hence we\ncannot separate the idea of ourselves and of our own good from our idea\nof others and of their good. The natural sentiment which is the basis of\nthe utilitarian morality, which gives the idea of the social good weight\nwith us, is the\n\n    \"desire to be in unity with our fellow creatures.... The social\n    state is at once so natural, so necessary, and so habitual to man,\n    that except in some unusual circumstances or by an effort of\n    voluntary abstraction, _he never conceives himself otherwise than\n    as a member of a body_.... Any condition, therefore, which is\n    essential to a state of society becomes more and more an\n    inseparable part of every person's conception of the state of\n    things he is born into and which is the destiny of a human being.\"\n    This strengthening of social ties leads the individual \"to\n    identify his _feelings_ more and more with the good\" of others.\n    \"He comes, as though instinctively, to be conscious of himself as\n    a being, who, _of course_, pays regard to others. The good of\n    others becomes to him a thing naturally and necessarily to be\n    attended to, like any of the physical conditions of our\n    existence.\" This social feeling, finally, however weak, does not\n    present itself \"as a superstition of education, or a law\n    despotically imposed from without, but as an attribute which it\n    would not be well to be without.... Few but those whose mind is a\n    moral blank could _bear_ to lay out their course of life on the\n    line of paying no regard to others except so far as their own\n    private interest compels.\"[152]\n\nThe transformation is tremendous. It is no longer a question of acting\nfor the general interest because that brings most pleasure or brings it\nmore surely and easily. It is a question of finding one's good in the\ngood of others.\n\n=III. The Benthamite External Ties of Private and General\nInterests.=--Aside from sympathy and love of peaceful relations and good\nrepute, Bentham relied upon law, changes in political arrangements, and\nthe play of economic interests which make it worth while for the\nindividual to seek his own pleasure in ways that would also conduce to\nthe pleasure of others. Penal law can at least make it painful for the\nindividual to try to get his own good in ways which bring suffering to\nothers. Civil legislation can at least abolish those vested interests\nand class privileges which inevitably favor one at the expense of\nothers, and which make it customary and natural to seek and get\nhappiness in ways which disregard the happiness of others. In the\nindustrial life each individual seeks his own advantage under such\nconditions that he can achieve his end only by rendering service to\nothers, that is, through exchange of commodities or services. The proper\nend of legislation is then to make political and economic conditions\nsuch that the individual while seeking his own good will at least not\ninflict suffering upon others, and positively, so far as possible, will\npromote their good.[153]\n\n=IV. Mill's Criticism.=--Mill's criticism does not turn upon the\nimportance of legislation and of social economic arrangements in\npromoting the identity of individual and general good. On the contrary,\nafter identifying (in a passage already quoted, _ante_, p. 286) the\nideal of utilitarian morality with love of neighbor, he goes on:\n\n    \"As the means of making the nearest approach to this ideal utility\n    would enjoin, first, that laws and social arrangements should\n    place the happiness of every individual as nearly as possible in\n    harmony with the interest of the whole; and, secondly, that\n    education and opinion, which have so vast a power over human\n    character, should so use that power as to establish in the mind of\n    every individual an indissoluble association between his own\n    happiness and the good of the whole.\"\n\nThe criticism turns upon the fact that _unless_ the intrinsic social\nidea, already discussed, be emphasized, any association of private and\ngeneral happiness which law and social arrangements can effect will be\nexternal, more or less artificial and arbitrary, and hence dissoluble\neither by intellectual analysis, or by the intense prepotency of\negoistic desire.\n\n=Mill's Transformation.=--If, however, this idea of inherent social ties\nand of oneself as a social being is presupposed, the various external\nagencies have something internal to work upon; and their effect is\ninternal, not external. Their effect is not to establish a mere\n_coincidence_ (as with Bentham) between pleasure to oneself and pleasure\nto others, but to protect, strengthen, and foster the sense, otherwise\nintermittent and feeble, of the social aspects and relations of one's\nown being. It is for this reason that Mill lays more stress on\n_education_ than on mere external institutional changes, and, indeed,\nconceives of the ultimate moral value of the institutional arrangements\nas itself educative. Their value to him is not that they are\ncontrivances or pieces of machinery for making the behavior of one\nconduce more or less automatically to the happiness of others, but that\nthey train and exercise the individual in the recognition of the social\nelements of his own character.\n\n=Summary of Previous Discussion.=--We have carried on our discussion of\nthe relation between the common good as the standard for measuring\nrightness, and pleasure as the end and spring of the individual's\nactivity, in terms of Mill's development of Bentham's utilitarianism.\nBut of course our results are general, and they may be detached not only\nfrom this particular discussion, but from the truth or falsity of\nutilitarianism as a technical theory. Put positively, our results are\nthese: (1) Moral quality is an attribute of character, of dispositions\nand attitudes which express themselves in desires and efforts. (2) Those\nattitudes and dispositions are morally good which aim at the production,\nthe maintenance, and development of ends in which the agent and others\naffected alike find satisfaction. There is no difference (such as early\nutilitarianism made) between good as standard and as aim, because _only\na voluntary preference for and interest in a social good is capable,\notherwise than by coincidence or accident, of producing acts which have\ncommon good as their result_. Acts which are not motivated by it as aim\ncannot be trusted to secure it as result; _acts which are motived by it\nas a living and habitual interest are the guarantee, so far as\nconditions allow, of its realization_. Those who care for the general\ngood for its own sake are those who are surest of promoting it.\n\n=The Good Moral Character.=--The genuinely moral person is one, then, in\nwhom the habit of regarding all capacities and habits of self from the\nsocial standpoint is formed and active. Such an one forms his plans,\nregulates his desires, and hence performs his acts with reference to the\neffect they have upon the social groups of which he is a part. He is one\nwhose dominant attitudes and interests are bound up with associated\nactivities. Accordingly he will find his happiness or satisfaction in\nthe promotion of these activities irrespective of the particular pains\nand pleasures that accrue.\n\n=Social Interests and Sympathy.=--A genuine social interest is then\nsomething much broader and deeper than an instinctive sympathetic\nreaction. Sympathy is a genuine natural instinct, varying in intensity\nin different individuals. It is a precious instrumentality for the\ndevelopment of social insight and socialized affection; but in and of\nitself it is upon the same plane as any natural endowment. It may lead\nto sentimentality or to selfishness; the individual may shrink from\nscenes of misery just because of the pain they cause him, or may seek\njovial companions because of the sympathetic pleasures he gets. Or he\nmay be moved by sympathy to labor for the good of others, but, because\nof lack of deliberation and thoughtfulness, be quite ignorant of what\ntheir good really is, and do a great deal of harm. One may wish to do\nunto others as he would they should do unto him, but may err egregiously\nbecause his conception of what is desirable for himself is radically\nfalse; or because he assumes arbitrarily that whatever he likes is good\nfor others, and may thus tyrannically impose his own standards upon\nthem. Again instinctive sympathy is partial; it may attach itself\nvehemently to those of blood kin or to immediate associates in such a\nway as to favor them at the expense of others, and lead to positive\ninjustice toward those beyond the charmed circle.[154]\n\n=Transformation of Instinctive Sympathies.=--It still remains true that\nthe instinctive affectionate reactions in their various forms (parental,\nfilial, sexual, compassionate, sympathetic) are the sole portions of the\npsychological structure or mechanism of a man which can be relied upon\nto work the identification of other's ends with one's own interests.\nWhat is required is a _blending_, a _fusing_ of the sympathetic\ntendencies with all the other impulsive and habitual traits of the self.\nWhen interest in power is permeated with an affectionate impulse, it is\nprotected from being a tendency to dominate and tyrannize; it becomes an\ninterest in _effectiveness of regard for common ends_. When an interest\nin artistic or scientific objects is similarly fused, it loses the\nindifferent and coldly impersonal character which marks the specialist\nas such, and becomes an interest in the adequate aesthetic and\nintellectual development of the conditions of a common life. Sympathy\ndoes not merely _associate_ one of these tendencies _with_ another;\nstill less does it make one a means to the other's end. It so intimately\npermeates them as to transform them both into a single new and moral\ninterest. This same fusion protects sympathy from sentimentality and\nnarrowness. Blended with interest in power, in science, in art, it is\nliberalized in quality and broadened in range. In short, the fusion of\naffectionate reactions with the other dispositions of the self\n_illuminates, gives perspective and body to the former_, while it _gives\nsocial quality and direction to the latter_. The result of this\nreciprocal absorption is the disappearance of the natural tendencies in\ntheir original form _and the generation of moral_, i.e., _socialized\ninterests_. It is sympathy transformed into a habitual standpoint which\nsatisfies the demand for a standpoint which will render the person\ninterested in foresight of all obscure consequences (_ante_, p. 262).\n\n=1. Social Interest and the Happiness of the Agent.=--We now see what is\nmeant by a distinctively _moral_ happiness, and how this happiness is\nsupreme in quality as compared with other satisfactions, irrespective of\nsuperior intensity and duration on the part of the latter. It is\nimpossible to draw any fixed line between the _content_ of the moral\ngood and of natural satisfaction. The end, the right and only right end,\nof man, lies in the fullest and freest realization of powers in their\nappropriate objects. The good consists of friendship, family and\npolitical relations, economic utilization of mechanical resources,\nscience, art, in all their complex and variegated forms and elements.\nThere is no separate and rival moral good; no separate empty and rival\n\"good will.\"\n\n=Nature of Moral Interest and Motivation.=--Yet _the interest_ in the\nsocial or the common and progressive realization of these interests may\nproperly be called a distinctive moral interest. The degree of actual\nobjective realization or achievement of these ends, depends upon\ncircumstances and accidents over which the agent has little or no\ncontrol. The more happily situated individual who succeeds in realizing\nthese ends more largely we may call more fortunate; we cannot call him\nmorally better. The interest in all other interests, the voluntary\ndesire to discover and promote them within the range of one's own\ncapacities, one's own material resources, and the limits of one's own\nsurroundings, is, however, under one's control: _it is one's moral\nself_. _The nature and exercise of this interest constitutes then the\ndistinctively moral quality in all good purposes._ They are morally good\nnot so far as objectively accomplished and possessed, but so far as\ncherished in the dominant affections of the person.\n\n=The Moral Interest as Final Happiness.=--Consequently the true or final\nhappiness of an individual, the happiness which is not at the mercy of\ncircumstance and change of circumstance, lies not in objective\nachievement of results, but in the supremacy within character of an\nalert, sincere, and persistent interest in those habits and institutions\nwhich forward common ends among men. Mill insisted that quality of\nhappiness was morally important, not quantity. Well, that quality which\nis most important is the peace and joy of mind that accompanies the\nabiding and equable maintenance of socialized interests as central\nsprings of action. To one in whom these interests live (and they live to\nsome extent in every individual not completely pathological) their\nexercise brings happiness because it fulfills his life. To those in whom\nit is the supreme interest it brings supreme or final happiness. It is\nnot preferred because it is the greater happiness, but in being\npreferred as expressing the only kind of self which the agent\nfundamentally wishes himself to be, it constitutes a kind of happiness\nwith which others cannot be compared. It is unique, final,\ninvaluable.[155]\n\n=Identity of the Individual and General Happiness.=--No algebraic\nsumming up of sympathetic pleasures, utilities of friendship, advantages\nof popularity and esteem, profits of economic exchange among equals,\nover against pains from legal penalties and disapproving public opinion,\nand lack of sympathetic support by others, can ever make it even\napproximately certain that an individual's own interest, in terms of\nquantity of pleasures and pains, is to regard the interest of\nothers.[156] Such a demonstration, moreover, if possible, would not\nsupport but would weaken the moral life. It would reduce the\nmanifestation of character to selecting greater rather than less amounts\nof homogeneous ends. It would degrade reflection and consideration to\ningenuity in detecting where larger quantities of pleasures lie, and to\nskill in performing sums of addition and subtraction. Even if such a\nscheme could be demonstrated, every one except the most languid and\nphlegmatic of pleasure-seekers would reject a life built upon it. Not\nonly the \"good,\" but the more vigorous and hearty of the \"bad,\" would\nscorn a life in which character, selfhood, had no significance, and\nwhere the experimental discovery and testing of destiny had no place.\nThe identity of individual and general happiness is a _moral_ matter; it\ndepends, that is, upon the reflective and intentional development of\nthat type of character which identifies itself with common ends, and\nwhich is happy in these ends just because it has made them its own.\n\n=2. Social Ends and the Happiness of Others.=--The same principle holds\nof the happiness of others. Happiness means the expression of the active\ntendencies of a self in their appropriate objects. Moral happiness means\nthe satisfaction which comes when the dominant active tendencies are\nmade interests in the maintenance and propagation of the things that\nmake life worth living. Others, also, can be happy and should be happy\nonly upon the same terms. Regard for the happiness of others means\n_regard for those conditions and objects which permit others freely to\nexercise their own powers from their own initiative, reflection, and\nchoice_. Regard for their final happiness (i.e., for a happiness whose\n_quality_ is such that it cannot be _externally_ added to or subtracted\nfrom) demands that these others shall find the controlling objects of\npreference, resolution, and endeavor in the things that are worth while.\n\n=3. Happiness and Common Ends.=--For all alike, in short, the chief\nthing is the discovery and promotion of those activities and active\nrelationships in which the capacities of all concerned are effectively\nevoked, exercised, and put to the test. It is difficult for a man to\nattain a point of view from which steadily to apprehend how his own\nactivities affect and modify those of others. It is hard, that is, to\nlearn to accommodate one's ends to those of others; to adjust, to give\nway here, and fit in there with respect to our aims. But difficult as\nthis is, it is easy compared with the difficulty of acting _in such a\nway_ for ends which are helpful to others as will call out and make\neffective their activities.\n\n=Moral Democracy.=--If the vice of the criminal, and of the coarsely\nselfish man is to disturb the aims and the good of others; if the vice\nof the ordinary egoist, and of every man, upon his egoistic side, is to\nneglect the interests of others; the vice of the social leader, of the\nreformer, of the philanthropist and the specialist in every worthy cause\nof science, or art, or politics, is to seek ends which promote the\nsocial welfare in ways which fail to engage the active interest and\ncooperation of others.[157] The conception of conferring the good upon\nothers, or at least of attaining it for them, which is our inheritance\nfrom the aristocratic civilization of the past, is so deeply embodied in\nreligious, political, and charitable institutions and in moral\nteachings, that it dies hard. Many a man, feeling himself justified by\nthe social character of his ultimate aim (it may be economic, or\neducational, or political), is genuinely confused or exasperated by the\nincreasing antagonism and resentment which he evokes, because he has not\nenlisted in his pursuit of the \"common\" end the freely cooperative\nactivities of others. This cooperation must be the root principle of the\nmorals of democracy. It must be confessed, however, that it has as yet\nmade little progress.\n\nOur traditional conceptions of the morally great man, the moral hero and\nleader, the exceptionally good social and political character, all work\nagainst the recognition of this principle either in practice or theory.\nThey foster the notion that it is somebody's particular business to\nreach by his more or less isolated efforts (with \"following,\" or\nobedience, or unreflective subordination on the part of others) a needed\nsocial good. Some genius is to lead the way; others are to adopt and\nimitate. Moreover, the method of awakening and enlisting the activities\nof all concerned in pursuit of the end seems slow; it seems to postpone\naccomplishment indefinitely. But in truth a common end which is not made\nsuch by common, free voluntary cooperation in process of achievement is\ncommon in name only. It has no support and guarantee in the activities\nwhich it is supposed to benefit, because it is not the fruit of those\nactivities. Hence, it does not stay put. It has to be continually\nbuttressed by appeal to external, not voluntary, considerations; bribes\nof pleasure, threats of harm, use of force. It has to be undone and done\nover. There is no way to escape or evade this law of happiness, that it\nresides in the exercise of the active capacities of a voluntary agent;\nand hence no way to escape or evade the law of a common happiness, that\nit must reside in the congruous exercise of the voluntary activities of\nall concerned. The inherent irony and tragedy of much that passes for a\nhigh kind of socialized activity is precisely that it seeks a common\ngood by methods which forbid its being either common or a good.\n\n\nLITERATURE\n\nSee references upon utilitarianism at end of ch. xiv. For happiness, see\nAristotle, _Ethics_, Book I., and Book X., chs. vi.-ix.; Dickinson, _The\nMeaning of Good_; Paulsen, _System of Ethics_, pp. 268-286; Rickaby,\n_Aquinas Ethicus_, Vol. I., pp. 6-39; Mezes, _Ethics_, ch. xv.;\nSantayana, _The Life of Reason_; Rashdall, _The Theory of Good and\nEvil_.\n\nThe following histories of utilitarianism bring out the social side of\nthe utilitarian theory: Albee, _History of Utilitarianism_; Stephen,\n_The English Utilitarians_; Halevy, _La Formation du Radicalisme\nPhilosophique_, especially Vols. I. and II.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[139] The discussion of altruism and egoism in ch. xviii. on the Self,\nconsiders some aspects of this question from another point of view.\n\n[140] _Prolegomena to Ethics_, p. 361.\n\n[141] _Ibid._, pp. 365-66. Green then goes on to argue that this service\nhas been in spite of its hedonistic factor, and that if the theory were\ngenerally applied with all the hedonistic implications to personal\nbehavior in private life, it would put impediments in the way of moral\nprogress.\n\n[142] It will be noted that we have here the same double role of\npleasure that met us at the outset (see _ante_, p. 267): one sort of\nhappiness is the moving spring of action, because object of desire;\nanother and incompatible sort is the standard, and hence proper or right\nend.\n\n[143] It is this hedonistic element of the object of desire and moving\nspring which calls forth such denunciations as Carlyle's; on the other\nhand, it is the assertion of the common happiness as the standard which\ncalls out the indignant denial of the utilitarians; which, for example,\nleads Spencer to retort upon Carlyle's epithet of \"pig-philosophy\" with\na counter charge that Carlyle's epithet is a survival of\n\"devil-worship,\" since it assumes pain to be a blessing. (_Principles of\nEthics_, Vol. I., pp. 40-41).\n\n[144] Abbott's _Kant's Theory of Ethics_, p. 116.\n\n[145] _Utilitarianism_, third paragraph of ch. iv.\n\n[146] By this phrase Bentham refers to the necessity of controlling this\nspring to activity just as any other is regulated, by reference to its\nconsequences.\n\n[147] Bentham himself was not a psychologist, and he does not state the\ndoctrine in this extreme form. But those of the Benthamites who were\npsychologists, being hedonistic in their psychology, gave the doctrine\nthis form.\n\n[148] _Early Essays_, p. 354. (Reprint by Gibbs, London, 1897.)\n\n[149] _Ibid._, p. 357.\n\n[150] _Ibid._, p. 404.\n\n[151] _Autobiography_, London, 1884, p. 143.\n\n[152] _Utilitarianism_, ch. iii., _passim_.\n\n[153] Some phases of this view as respects legislation, etc., are\ntouched upon later in ch. xviii.\n\n[154] Mill in his article on Bentham says of him: \"Personal affection,\nhe well knew, is as liable to operate to the injury of third parties,\nand requires as much to be kept in check, as any other feeling whatever:\nand general philanthropy ... he estimated at its true value when\ndivorced from the feeling of duty, as the very weakest and most unsteady\nof all feelings\" (_Op. cit._, p. 356).\n\n[155] \"It is only a poor sort of happiness that could ever come by\ncaring very much about our own narrow pleasures. We can only have the\nhighest happiness, such as goes along with being a great man, by having\nwide thought and much feeling for the rest of the world as well as\nourselves; and this sort of happiness often brings so much pain with it,\nthat we can only tell it from pain by its being what we would choose\nbefore everything else, because our souls see it is good.\"--GEORGE ELIOT\nin _Romola_.\n\n[156] The recognition of this by many utilitarian hedonists has caused\nthem to have recourse to the supernaturally inflicted penalties and\nconferred delights of a future life to make sure of balancing up the\naccount of virtue as self-sacrificing action with happiness, its proper\nend.\n\n[157] The recognition of this type of spiritual selfishness is modern.\nIt is the pivot upon which the later (especially) of Ibsen's tragedies\nturn.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nTHE PLACE OF REASON IN THE MORAL LIFE; MORAL KNOWLEDGE\n\n\nSec. 1. PROBLEM OF REASON AND DESIRE\n\n=Intelligence and Reason in a Moral Act.=--A voluntary act is one which\ninvolves intention, purpose, and thus some degree of deliberateness. It\nis this trait which marks off the voluntary act from a purely\nunconscious one (like that of a machine) and from one which yields to\nthe superior urgency of present feeling, one which is pushed on from\nbehind, as an instinctive or impulsive act, instead of being called out\nby some possibility ahead. This factor of forethought and of preference\nafter comparison for some one of the ends considered, is the factor of\nintelligence involved in every voluntary act. To be intelligent in\naction is, however, a far-reaching affair. To know what one is really\nabout is a large and difficult order to fill; so large and difficult\nthat it is the heart of morality.[158] The relevant bearings of any act\nare subtler and larger than those which can be foreseen and than those\nwhich will be _unless_ special care is taken. The tendencies which\nstrongly move one to a certain act are often exactly those which tend to\nprevent one's seeing the effect of the act upon his own habits and upon\nthe well-being of others. The internal forces and the external\ncircumstance which evoke the idea of an end and of the means of\nattaining it are frequently also those which deflect intelligence to a\nnarrow and partial view. The demand for a standard by which to regulate\njudgment of ends is thus the demand not only for intelligence, but for a\ncertain kind of intelligence.\n\nIn short, a truly moral (or right) act is one which is intelligent in an\nemphatic and peculiar sense; it is a _reasonable_ act. It is not merely\none which is thought of, and thought of as good, at the moment of\naction, but one which will continue to be thought of as \"good\" in the\nmost alert and persistent reflection.[159] For by \"reasonable\" action we\nmean such action as recognizes and observes all the necessary\nconditions; action in which impulse, instinct, inclination, habit,\nopinion, prejudice (as the case may be) are moderated, guided, and\ndetermined by considerations which lie outside of and beyond them. Not\nmerely to form ends and select means, but to judge the _worth_ of these\nmeans and ends by a standard, is then the distinctive province of reason\nin morals. Its outcome is _moral knowledge_; that is judgments of right\nand wrong, both in general, and in the particular and perplexing cases\nas they arise. This is the topic of the present chapter.\n\n=Typical Problems.=--The problem of moral knowledge is in its general\nform: Is there a distinct and separate faculty of moral reason and\nknowledge, or is there but one power of judgment which varies with its\nobject? The former view is the intuitional (from Latin, _intueor_: to\nlook at); it is associated with theories, which, like the Kantian,\nemphasize attitudes, not results and intentions; while the view which\nholds that there is but one form of thought which, in morals, concerns\nitself with results, and with their association with the present aim, is\nthe empirical. There are two especial difficulties which lead to the\nupholding of the intuitional point of view, difficulties which any\ntheory of moral knowledge has to meet. They are (I) The Relation of\nDesire and Reason, and (II) the Knowledge of Private and General Good.\n\n=1. Desire and Reason.=--Ordinary knowledge in practical matters follows\nthe line set by desire. Hunger makes us think of food and of how to get\nit; sociable desire, of friends, and how to secure their companionship,\nand so on. Now a surging mass of desires, vehement and bulky, may\nconcentrate itself upon the idea of any end; and as soon as it does so,\nit tends to shut out wider considerations. As we have just seen, it is\nthe object of reason to give us a calm, objective, broad, and general\nsurvey of the field. Desires work against this, and unless (so runs the\nargument) there is a faculty which works wholly independent of desires,\nas our ordinary practical knowledge does not, it is absurd to suppose\nthere can be a rational principle which will correct and curb desire.\n\n=2. Private and General Good.=--Since the wide and permanent good is\nsocial, it is urged that unless we have an independent faculty of moral\nknowledge, our judgment will be subservient to the ends of private\ndesire, and hence will not place itself at the public point of view. Or,\nif it does so, it will be simply as a matter of expediency to calculate\nbetter the means for getting our own pleasure. In general, it is urged\nthat only a faculty of knowledge completely independent of personal\nwishes, habits, purposes can secure judgments possessing inherent\ndignity and authoritativeness; since these require an elevated,\nimpartial, universal, and necessary point of view. We shall in the\nsequel attempt to show that this view of knowledge results from the\nfalse conception of desire as having pleasure for its object, and from a\nfalse conception of the relation of intent and motive. When these errors\nare corrected, there is no ground to assume any special faculty of moral\nintelligence, save as the one capacity of thought is specialized into a\nparticular mental habit by being constantly occupied in judging values.\nWe shall try to show that the broad and public point of view is secured\nby fusion of impulses with sympathetic affections. We shall begin with\nstating and criticizing the views of Kant, who upholds the doctrine of a\nseparate independent Moral Reason in its most extreme form.\n\n\nSec. 2. KANT'S THEORY OF PRACTICAL REASON\n\nKant is at one with the hedonist as regards the natural object of\ndesire; it is pleasure. All purposes and ends that spring from\ninclination and natural tendency come under one head: self-love. Hence,\nthe ordinary use of intelligence is confined to the matter of passing\nupon what constitutes the individual's private happiness and how he\nshall secure it. There are then fundamental contrasts between ordinary\npractical activity and genuinely moral activity, contrasts which reflect\nthemselves in the theory of the nature and function of moral knowledge.\n(1) The moral end is _unqualified_, absolute, categorical. It is not\nsomething which we can pick or leave at our option. Morality is the\nregion of final ends, ends not to be disputed or questioned; and reason\nmust set forth such final ends. Since, however, happiness is not a\nmorally necessary end, intelligence in its behalf can only give\nhypothetical counsel and advice: _if_ you would be happy, or happy in\nthis, or that way, then take such and such measures. Reason which\npromulgates ends must be of a different sort from the intelligence which\nsimply searches for means.\n\n(2) Morality is not qualified, but _certain_ in its requirements. The\nmost inexperienced, the humblest, the one most restricted in his\ncircumstances and opportunities, must know what is morally required as\nsurely as the wisest and most educated. Hence moral reason must utter\nits precepts clearly and unambiguously. But no one can be _sure_ what\nhappiness is, or whether a given act will bring joy or sorrow. \"The\nproblem of determining certainly what action would promote the\nhappiness of a rational being is insoluble.\" (Abbott's _Kant_, p. 36.)\nThe demand for _certainty_ of precepts in moral matters also requires a\nspecial faculty.\n\n(3) Morality, which is inexorable and certain in its demands, is also\n_universal_ in its requirements. Its laws are the same yesterday,\nto-day, and forever, the same for one as for another. Now happiness\nnotoriously varies with the condition and circumstances of a person, as\nwell as with the conditions of different peoples and epochs.\nIntelligence with reference to happiness can only give counsel, not even\nrules, so variable is happiness. It can only advise that upon the\naverage, under certain conditions, a given course of action has usually\npromoted happiness. When we add that the commands of morality are also\nuniversal with respect to the different inclinations of different\nindividuals, we are made emphatically aware of the necessity of a\nrational standpoint, which in its impartiality totally transcends the\nends and plans that grow out of the ordinary experience of an\nindividual.\n\n=An A Priori Reason Kant's Solution.=--The net outcome is that only a\nreason which is separate and independent of all experience is capable of\nmeeting the requirements of morality. What smacks in its origin and aim\nof experience is tainted with self-love; is partial, temporary,\nuncertain, and relative or dependent. The moral law is unqualified,\nnecessary, and universal. Hence we have to recognize in man as a moral\nbeing a faculty of reason which expresses itself in the law of conduct\n_a priori_ to all experience of desire, pleasure, and pain. Besides his\nsensuous nature (with respect to which knowledge is bound up with\nappetite) man has a purely rational nature, which manifests itself in\nthe consciousness of the absolute authority of universal law.[160]\n\n=Formal Character of Such Reason.=--This extreme separation of reason\nfrom experience brings with it, however, a serious problem. We shall\nfirst state this problem; and then show that its artificial and\ninsoluble character serves as a refutation of Kant's theory of a\ntranscendental, or wholly non-natural and non-empirical, mode of\nknowledge. Reason which is wholly independent of experience of desires\nand their results is, as Kant expressly declares, purely _formal_.\n(Abbott's _Kant_, p. 33; p. 114.) That is to say, it is _empty_; it does\nnot point out or indicate anything particular to be done. It cannot say\nbe industrious, or prudent, generous; give, or refrain from giving, so\nmuch money to this particular man at this particular time under just\nthese circumstances. All it says is that morality is rational and\nrequires man to follow the law of reason. But the law of reason is just\nthat a man should follow the law of reason. And to the inevitable\ninquiry \"What then is the law of reason?\" the answer still is: To follow\nthe law of reason. How do we break out of this empty circle into\nspecific knowledge of the specific right things to be done? Kant has an\nanswer, which we shall now consider.\n\n=Kant's Method.=--He proceeds as follows: The law is indeed purely\nformal or empty (since, once more, all specific ends are \"empirical\" and\nchangeable), but it is so because it is universal. Now nothing which is\nuniversal can contradict itself. All we need to do is to take any\nproposed principle of any act and ask ourselves whether it can be\nuniversalized without self-inconsistency. If it cannot be, the act is\nwrong. If it can be, the act is right. For example:\n\n    \"May I, when in distress, make a promise with the intention not to\n    keep it?... The shortest way, and an unerring one to discover the\n    answer to the question whether a lying promise is consistent with\n    duty, is to ask myself, Should I be content that my maxim (to\n    extricate myself from trouble by a false promise) should hold good\n    as a universal law, for myself as well as for others? And should I\n    be able to say to myself, every one may make a deceitful promise\n    when he finds himself in a difficulty from which he cannot\n    otherwise extricate himself? Then I personally become aware that\n    while I can will the lie, I can by no means will that lying should\n    be a universal law. For with such a law there would be no such\n    thing as a promise. No one should have any faith in the proffered\n    intention, or, if they do so over hastily, would pay one back in\n    one's own coin at the first opportunity\" (_Op. cit._, p. 19).\n\nThe principle if made universal simply contradicts itself, and thus\nreveals that it is no principle at all, not rational. Summing this up in\na formula, we get as our standard of right action the principle: \"Act as\nif the maxim of thy action were to become by thy will a universal law of\nnature\" (_Op. cit._, p. 39).\n\nThe procedure thus indicated seems simple. As long as an individual\nconsiders the purpose or motive of his action as if it were merely a\nmatter of that one deed; as if it were an isolated thing, there is no\nrationality, no consciousness of moral law or principle. But let the\nindividual imagine himself gifted with such power that, if he acts, the\nmotive of his act will become a fixed, a regular law in the constitution\nof things. Would he, as a rational being, be willing to bring about such\na universalization,--can he, with equanimity as a reasonable being,\ncontemplate such an outcome? If he can, the act is right; if not (as in\nthe case of making a lying promise), wrong.\n\nNo sensible person would question the instructiveness of this scheme in\nthe concrete. It indicates that the value of reason--of abstraction and\ngeneralization--in conduct is to help us escape from the partiality that\nflows from desire and emotion in their first and superficial\nmanifestations, and to attain a more unified and permanent end. As a\nmethod (though not the only one) of realizing the _full meaning_ of a\nproposed course of action, nothing could be better than asking ourselves\nhow we should like to be committed forever to its principle; how we\nshould like to have others committed to it and to treat us according to\nit? Such a method is well calculated to make us face our proposed end in\nits impartial consequences; to teach the danger of cherishing merely\nthose results which are most congenial to our passing whim and our\nnarrow conception of personal profit. In short, by generalizing a\npurpose we make its _general_ character evident.\n\nBut this method does not proceed (as Kant would have it) from a mere\nconsideration of moral law _apart from a concrete end, but from an end\nin so far as it persistently approves itself to reflection after an\nadequate survey of it in all its bearings_. It is the possibility of\n_generalizing the concrete end_ that Kant falls back upon.\n\nOther illustrations which Kant offers enforce the same lesson. He\nsuggests the following:\n\n    (1) A man in despair from misfortune considers suicide. \"Now he\n    inquires whether the maxim of his action could become a universal\n    law of nature.\" We see at once that a system of nature by which it\n    should be a law to destroy life by means of the very\n    feeling--self-love--whose nature it is to impel to the maintenance\n    of life, would contradict itself and therefore could not exist.\n\n    (2) A man who has a certain talent is tempted from sluggishness\n    and love of amusement not to cultivate it. But if he applies the\n    principle he sees that, while a system of nature might subsist if\n    his motive became a law (so that all people devoted their lives to\n    idleness and amusement), yet he cannot _will_ that such a system\n    should receive absolute realization. As a rational being he\n    necessarily also wills that faculties be developed since they\n    serve for all sorts of possible purposes.\n\n    (3) A prosperous man, who sees some one else to be wretched, is\n    tempted to pay no attention to it, alleging that it is no concern\n    of his. Now, if this attitude were made a universal law of nature,\n    the human race might subsist and even get on after a fashion; but\n    it is impossible to will that such a principle should have the\n    validity of a law of nature. Such a will would contradict itself,\n    for many cases would occur in which the one willing would need the\n    love and sympathy of others; he could not then without\n    contradicting himself wish that selfish disregard should become a\n    regular, a fixed uniformity.\n\n=The Social End is the Rational End.=--These illustrations make it clear\nthat the \"contradiction\" Kant really depends upon to reveal the\nwrongness of acts, is the introduction of friction and disorder among\nthe various concrete ends of the individual. He insists especially that\nthe social relations of an act bring out its general purport. A right\nend is one which can be projected harmoniously into the widest and\nbroadest survey of life which the individual can make. A \"system of\nnature\" or of conduct in which love of life should lead to its own\ndestruction certainly contradicts itself. A course of action which\nshould include all the tendencies that make for amusement and\nsluggishness would be inconsistent with a scheme of life which would\ntake account of other tendencies--such as interest in science, in music,\nin friendship, in business achievement, which are just as real\nconstituents of the individual, although perhaps not so strongly felt at\nthe moment. A totally callous and cruel mode of procedure certainly\n\"contradicts\" a course of life in which every individual is so placed as\nto be dependent upon the sympathy and upon the help of others. It is the\nprovince of reason to call up a sufficiently wide view of the\nconsequences of an intention as to enable us to realize such\ninconsistencies and contradictions if they exist; to put before us, not\nthrough any logical manipulation of the principle of contradiction, but\nthrough memory and imagination a particular act, proposal, or suggestion\nas a portion of a connected whole of life; to make real to us that no\nman, no act, and no satisfaction of any man, falls or stands to itself,\nbut that it affects and is affected by others. Our conclusion is: the\nright as the _rational_ good means that which is harmonious with all the\ncapacities and desires of the self, that which expands them into a\ncooperative whole.\n\n=Kant's Introduction of Social Factors.=--The further development which\nKant gives the formula already quoted (p. 312) goes far to remove the\nappearance of opposition between the utilitarian social standard and his\nown abstract rationalism. Kant points out that according to his view the\nmoral or rational will is its own end. Hence every rational person is\nalways an end, never a means:--this, indeed, is what we mean by a\nperson. But every normal human being is a rational person. Consequently\nanother formula for his maxim is: \"So act as to treat humanity, whether\nin thine own person or in that of any other, as an end, never as a means\nmerely.\" The man who contemplates suicide \"uses a person merely as a\nmeans to maintaining a tolerable condition of life.\" He who would make a\nlying promise to another makes that other one merely a means to his\nprofit, etc. Moreover, since all persons are equally ends in themselves\nand are to be equally regarded in behavior, we may say the standard of\nright is the notion of a \"Kingdom of Ends\"--the idea of \"the union of\ndifferent rational beings in a system by common laws.\"[161]\n\nThese propositions are rather formal, but the moment we put definite\nmeaning into them, they suggest that the good for any man is that in\nwhich the welfare of others counts as much as his own. The right is that\naction which, so far as in it lies, combines into a whole of common\ninterests and purposes the otherwise conflicting aims and interests of\ndifferent persons. So interpreted, the Kantian formula differs in words,\nrather than in idea, from Bentham's happiness of all concerned \"each\ncounting for one and only one\"; from Mill's statement that the \"deeply\nrooted conception which every individual even now has of himself as a\nsocial being tends to make him feel it as one of his natural wants, that\nthere should be harmony between his feelings and aims and those of his\nfellow creatures.\" In all of these formulae we find re-statements of our\nconception that the good is the activities in which all men participate\nso that the powers of each are called out, put to use, and reenforced.\n\n=Consequent Transformation of Theory of Reason.=--Now if the common\ngood, in the form of a society of individuals, as a kingdom of ends, is\nthe object with reference to which the ends of desire have to be\nrationalized, Kant's theory of an _a priori_ and empty Reason is\ncompletely made over. In strict logic Kant contradicts himself when he\nsays that we are to generalize the end of desire, so as to see whether\nit could become a universal law. For according to him no end of desire\n(since it is private and a form of self-love) _can possibly be\ngeneralized_. He is setting up as a method of enlightenment precisely\nthe very impossibility (impossible, that is, on his own theory that\nprivate happiness is the end of desire) which made him first resort to\nhis _a priori_ and transcendental reason. No more complete contradiction\ncan be imagined.\n\nOn the other hand, if we neglect the concrete, empirical conditions and\nconsequences of the object of desire, there is no motive whatsoever that\nmay not be generalized. There is no _formal_ contradiction in acting\nalways on a motive of theft, unchastity, or insolence. All that Kant's\nmethod can require, in strict logic, is that the individual always,\nunder similar circumstances, act from the same motive. Be willing to be\nalways dishonest, or impure, or proud in your intent; achieve\nconsistency in the badness of your motives, and you will be good!\nDoubtless no one, not even the worst man, would be willing to be\nuniversally consistent in his badness. But this is not in the least a\nmatter of a purely formal, logical inconsistency of the motive with\nitself;[162] it is due rather to that _conflict among diverse desires,\nand different objects for which one strives, which makes him aware that\nat some time he should want to act kindly and fairly_.\n\n=Organization of Desires from the Social Standpoint.=--What Kant is\nreally insisting upon at bottom is, then, the demand for such a revision\nof desire as it casually and unreflectively presents itself as would\nmake the desire a consistent expression of the whole body of the\npurposes of the self. What he demands is that a desire shall not be\naccepted as an adequate motive till it has been organized into desire\nfor an end which will be compatible with the whole system of ends\ninvolved in the capacities and tendencies of the agent. This is true\nrationalization. And he further warns us that only when a particular\ndesire has in view a good which is social will it meet this requirement.\nThis brings us to our next problem. Just what is the process by which we\njudge of the worth of particular proposals, plans, courses of actions,\ndesires? Granted that a generalized good, a socialized happiness, is the\npoint of view at which we must place ourselves to secure the reasonable\npoint of view, how does this point of view become an operative method?\n\n\nSec. 3. MORAL SENSE INTUITIONALISM\n\nSo far, our conclusions are (1) that the province of reason is to enable\nus to generalize our concrete ends; to form such ends as are consistent\nwith one another, and reenforce one another, introducing continuity and\nforce, where otherwise there would be division and weakness; and (2)\nthat only social ends are ultimately reasonable, since they alone permit\nus to organize our acts into consistent wholes. We have now, however, to\nconsider how this conception takes effect in detail; how it is employed\nto determine the right or the reasonable in a given situation. We shall\napproach this problem by considering a form of intuitionalism\nhistorically prior to that of Kant. This emphasizes the direct character\nof moral knowledge in particular cases, and assimilates moral knowledge\nto the analogy of sense perception, which also deals directly with\nspecific objects; it insists, however, that a different kind of faculty\nof knowledge operates in the knowledge of acts from that which operates\nin the knowledge of things. Our underlying aim here is to bring out the\nrelation of immediate appreciation to deliberate reflection, with a view\nto showing that the reasonable standpoint, that of the common good,\nbecomes effective through the socialized attitudes and emotions of a\nperson's own character.\n\n=Moral Sense.=--This theory holds that rightness is an intrinsic,\nabsolute quality of special acts, and as such is immediately known or\nrecognized for what it is. Just as a white color is known as white, a\nhigh tone as high, a hard body as existent, etc., so an act which is\nright is known as right. In each case, the quality and the fact are so\nintimately and inherently bound together that it is absurd to think of\none and not know the other. As a theory of moral judgment,\nintuitionalism is thus opposed to utilitarianism, which holds that\nrightness is not an inherent quality but one relative to and borrowed\nfrom external and more or less remote consequences. While some forms of\nintuitionalism hold that this moral quality belongs to general rules or\nto classes of ends, the form we are now to consider holds that the moral\nquality of an individual act cannot be borrowed even from a moral law,\nbut shines forth as an absolute and indestructible part of the motive of\nthe act itself. Because the theory in question sticks to the direct\nperception of the immediately present quality of acts, it is usually\ncalled, in analogy with the direct perception of eye or ear, the moral\nsense theory.\n\n=Objections to Theory.=--The objections to this theory in the extreme\nform just stated may be brought under two heads: (1) There is no\nevidence to prove that all acts are directly characterized by the\npossession of absolute and self-evident rightness and wrongness; there\nis much evidence to show that this quality when presented by acts can,\nas a rule, be traced to earlier instruction, to the pressure of\ncorrection and punishment, and to association with other experiences.\n(2) While in this way many acts, perhaps almost all, of the average\nmature person of a good moral environment, have acquired a direct moral\ncoloring, making unnecessary elaborate calculation or reference to\ngeneral principles, yet there is nothing infallible in such intuitively\npresented properties. An act may present itself as thoroughly right and\nyet may be, in reality, wrong. The function of conscious deliberation\nand reasoning is precisely to detect the existence of and to correct\nsuch intuitive cases.[163]\n\n=I. Direct Perception as Effect of Habits.=--It must be admitted, as a\nresult of any unprejudiced examination, that a large part of the acts,\nmotives, and plans of the adult who has had favorable moral surroundings\nseem to possess directly, and in their own intrinsic make-up, rightness\nor wrongness or moral indifference. To think of lying or stealing is one\nwith thinking of it as wrong; to recall or suggest an act of kindness is\nthe same as thinking of it as right; to think of going after mail is to\nthink of an act free from either rightness or wrongness. With the\naverage person it is probably rare for much time to be spent in figuring\nout whether an act is right or wrong, after the idea of that act has\nonce definitely presented itself. So far as the facts of moral\nexperience in such cases are concerned, the \"moral sense\" theory appears\nto give a correct description.\n\n(1) But the conclusion that, therefore, moral goodness or badness is and\nalways has been an inherent, absolute property of the act itself,\noverlooks well-known psychological principles. In all perception, in all\nrecognition, there is a funding or capitalizing of the results of past\nexperience by which the results are rendered available in new\nexperiences. Even a young child recognizes a table, a chair, a glass of\nmilk, a dog, as soon as he sees it; there is no analysis, no conscious\ninterpretation. Distance, direction, size, under normal circumstances,\nare perceived with the same assurance and ease. But there was a time\nwhen all these things were learning; when conscious experimentation\ninvolving interpretation took place. Such perceptions, moreover, take\nplace under the guidance of others; pains are taken indelibly to stamp\nmoral impressions by associating them with intense, vivid, and\nmysterious or awful emotional accompaniments.[164]\n\nAnthropological and historical accounts of different races and peoples\ntell the same story. Acts once entirely innocent of moral distinctions\nhave acquired, under differing circumstances and sometimes for trivial\nand absurd reasons, different moral values:--one and the same sort of\nact being stamped here as absolute guilt, there as an act of superior\nand heroic virtue. Now it would be fallacious to argue (as some do) that\nbecause distinctions of moral quality have been acquired and are not\ninnate, they are therefore unreal when they are acquired. Yet the fact\nof gradual development proves that no fixed line exists where it can be\nsaid the case is closed; that just this is henceforth forever right or\nwrong; that there shall be no further observation of consequences, no\nfurther correction and revision of present \"intuitions.\"\n\n(2) Our immediate moral recognitions take place, moreover, only under\nusual circumstances. There is after all no such thing as complete moral\nmaturity; all persons are still more or less children--in process of\nlearning moral distinctions. The more intense their moral interests, the\nmore childlike, the more open, flexible, and growing are their minds. It\nis only the callous and indifferent, or at least the conventional, who\nfind all acts and projects so definitely right and wrong as to render\nreflection unnecessary. \"New occasions teach new duties,\" but they teach\nthem only to those who recognize that they are not already in possession\nof adequate moral judgments. Any other view destroys the whole meaning\nof reflective morality and marks a relapse to the plane of sheer custom.\nExtreme intuitionalism and extreme moral conservatism; dislike to\ncalculation and reflection, for fear of innovations with attendant\ntrouble and discomfort, are usually found to go together.\n\n=II. Direct Perception No Guarantee of Validity.=--This suggests our\nsecond objection. The existence of immediate moral quality, the direct\nand seemingly final possession of rightness, as matter of fact, is not\nadequate proof of validity. At best, it furnishes a presumption of\ncorrectness, in the absence of grounds for questioning it, in fairly\nfamiliar situations. (a) There is nothing more direct, more seemingly\nself-evident, than inveterate prejudice. When class or vested interest\nis enlisted in the maintenance of the custom or institution which is\nexpressed in a prejudice, the most vicious moral judgments assume the\nguise of self-conscious sanctity. (b) A judgment which is correct under\nusual circumstances may become quite unfit, and therefore wrong, if\npersisted in under new conditions. Life, individual and social, is in\nconstant process of change; and there is always danger of error in\nclinging to judgments adjusted to older circumstances. \"The good is the\nenemy of the better.\" It is not merely false ideas of the values of life\nthat have to be re-formed, but ideas once true. When economic,\npolitical, and scientific conditions are modifying themselves as\nrapidly and extensively as they are in our day, it is reconstruction of\nmoral judgment that needs emphasis, rather than the existence of a lot\nof ready-made \"intuitions.\" When readjustment is required, deliberate\ninquiry is the only alternative to inconsiderate, undirected, and hence\nprobably violent changes:--changes involving undue relaxation of moral\nties on one side and arbitrary reactions on the other.\n\n=Deliberation and Intuition.=--It is indeed absurd to set immediate\nrecognition of quality and indirect calculation of more or less remote\nconsequences, intuition and thought, over against each other as if they\nwere rivals. For they are mutually supplementary. As we saw in a\nprevious chapter, the foresight of future results calls out an\n_immediate reaction_ of satisfaction and dissatisfaction, of happiness\nor dislike. (See p. 272.) It is just as false to say that we calculate\nonly future pains and pleasures (instead of changes in the world of\nthings and persons) as it is to say that anticipations of the changes to\nbe wrought in the world by our act are not accompanied by an immediate\nemotional appreciation of their value. The notion that deliberation upon\nthe various alternatives open to us is simply a cold-blooded setting\ndown of various items to our advantage, and various other items to our\ndisadvantage (as Robinson Crusoe wrote down in bookkeeping fashion his\nmiseries and blessings), and then striking an algebraic balance, implies\nsomething that never did and never could happen. Deliberation is a\nprocess of active, suppressed, rehearsal; of imaginative dramatic\nperformance of various deeds carrying to their appropriate issues the\nvarious tendencies which we feel stirring within us. When we see in\nimagination this or that change brought about, there is a direct sense\nof the amount and kind of worth which attaches to it, as real and as\ndirect, if not as strong, as if the act were really performed and its\nconsequence really brought home to us.\n\n=Deliberation as Dramatic Rehearsal.=--We, indeed, estimate the import\nor significance of any present desire or impulse by forecasting what it\nwould come or amount to if carried out; literally its consequences\ndefine its _consequence_, its meaning and importance. But if these\nconsequences were conceived _merely as remote_, if their picturing did\nnot at once arouse a present sense of peace, of fulfillment, or of\ndissatisfaction, of incompletion and irritation, the process of thinking\nout consequences would remain purely intellectual. It would be as barren\nof influence upon behavior as the mathematical speculations of a\ndisembodied angel. Any actual experience of reflection upon conduct will\nshow that every foreseen result at once stirs our present affections,\nour likes and dislikes, our desires and aversions. There is developed a\nrunning commentary which stamps values at once as good or evil. It is\nthis direct sense of value, not the consciousness of general rules or\nultimate goals, which finally determines the worth of the act to the\nagent. Here is the inexpugnable element of truth in the intuitional\ntheory. Its error lies in conceiving this immediate response of\nappreciation as if it excluded reflection instead of following directly\nupon its heels. Deliberation is actually an imaginative rehearsal of\nvarious courses of conduct. We give way, _in our mind_, to some impulse;\nwe try, _in our mind_, some plan. Following its career through various\nsteps, we find ourselves in imagination in the presence of the\nconsequences that would follow: and as we then like and approve, or\ndislike and disapprove, these consequences, we find the original impulse\nor plan good or bad. Deliberation is dramatic and active, not\nmathematical and impersonal; and hence it has the intuitive, the direct\nfactor in it. The advantage of a mental trial, prior to the overt trial\n(for the act after all is itself also a trial, a proving of the idea\nthat lies back of it), is that it is retrievable, whereas overt\nconsequences remain. They cannot be recalled. Moreover, many trials may\nmentally be made in a short time. The imagining of various plans carried\nout furnishes an opportunity for many impulses which at first are not in\nevidence at all, to get under way. Many and varied direct sensings,\nappreciations, take place. When many tendencies are brought into play,\nthere is clearly much greater probability that the capacity of self\nwhich is really needed and appropriate will be brought into action, and\nthus a truly reasonable happiness result. The tendency of deliberation\nto \"polarize\" the various lines of activity into opposed alternatives,\ninto incompatible \"either this or that,\" is a way of forcing into clear\nrecognition the importance of the issue.\n\n=The Good Man's Judgments as Standard.=--This explains the idea of\nAristotle that only the good man is a good judge of what is really good.\nSuch an one will take satisfaction in the thought of noble ends and will\nrecoil at the idea of base results. Because of his formed capacities,\nhis organized habits and tendencies, he will respond to a suggested end\nwith an emotion which confers its appropriate kind and shade of value.\nThe brave man is sensitive to all acts and plans so far as they involve\nenergy and endurance in overcoming painful obstacles; the kindly man\nresponds at once to the elements that affect the well-being of others.\nThe moral sense or direct appreciations of the good man may thus be said\nto furnish the standard of right and wrong. There are few persons who,\nwhen in doubt regarding a difficult matter of conduct, do not think of\nsome other person in whose goodness they believe, and endeavor to direct\nand clinch their own judgment by imagining how such an one would react\nin a similar situation--what he would find congenial and what\ndisagreeable. Or else they imagine what that other person would think of\nthem if he knew of their doing such and such an act. And while this\nmethod cannot supply the standard of their own judgment, cannot\ndetermine the right or wrong for their own situations, it helps\nemancipate judgment from selfish partialities, and it facilitates a\nfreer and more flexible play of imagination in construing and\nappreciating the situation.\n\n\nSec. 4. THE PLACE OF GENERAL RULES\n\nBetween such a highly generalized and formal principle as that of Kant,\nand the judgment of particular cases, we have intermediate\ngeneralizations; rules which are broad as compared with individual\ndeeds, but narrow as compared with some one final principle. What are\ntheir rational origin, place, and function? We have here again both the\nempirical and the intuitional theories of knowledge, having to deal with\nthe same fundamental difficulty: What is the relation of the special\nrule to the general principle on one side and to the special case on the\nother? The more general, the more abstractly rational the rule, the\nvaguer and less applicable it is. The more definite and fixed it is, the\ngreater the danger that it will be a Procrustean bed, mutilating the\nrich fullness of the individual act, or destroying its grace and freedom\nby making it conform servilely to a hard and fast rule. Our analysis\nwill accordingly be devoted to bringing to light the conditions under\nwhich a rule may be rational and yet be of specific help.\n\n=I. Intuitionalism and Casuistry.=--Utilitarianism at least holds that\nrules are derived from actual cases of conduct; hence there must be\npoints of likeness between the cases to be judged and the rules for\njudging them. But rules which do not originate from a consideration of\nspecial cases, which simply descend out of the blue sky, have only the\nmost mechanical and external relation to the individual acts to be\njudged. Suppose one is convinced that the rule of honesty was made\nknown just in and of itself by a special faculty, and had absolutely\nnothing to do with the recollection of past cases or the forecast of\npossible future circumstances. How would such a rule apply itself to any\nparticular case which needed to be judged? What bell would ring, what\nsignal would be given, to indicate that just _this_ case is the\nappropriate case for the application of the rule of honest dealing? And\nif by some miracle this question were answered so one knows that here is\na case for the rule of honesty, how would we know just what course in\ndetail the rule calls for? For the rule, to be applicable to all cases,\nmust omit the conditions which differentiate one case from another; it\nmust contain only the very few similar elements which are to be found in\nall honest deeds. Reduced to this skeleton, not much would be left save\nthe bare injunction to be honest whatever happens, leaving it to chance,\nthe ordinary judgment of the individual, or to external authority to\nfind out just _what_ honesty specifically means in the given case.\n\nThis difficulty is so serious that all systems which have committed\nthemselves to belief in a number of hard and fast rules having their\norigin in conscience, or in the word of God impressed upon the human\nsoul or externally revealed, always have had to resort to a more and\nmore complicated procedure to cover, if possible, all the cases. The\nmoral life is finally reduced by them to an elaborate formalism and\nlegalism.\n\n=Illustration in Casuistry.=--Suppose, for example, we take the Ten\nCommandments as a starting-point. They are only ten, and naturally\nconfine themselves to general ideas, and ideas stated mainly in negative\nform. Moreover, the same act may be brought under more than one rule. In\norder to resolve the practical perplexities and uncertainties which\ninevitably arise under such circumstances, _Casuistry_ is built up (from\nthe Latin _casus_, case). The attempt is made to foresee all the\ndifferent cases of action which may conceivably occur, and provide in\nadvance the exact rule for each case. For example, with reference to the\nrule \"do not kill,\" a list will be made of all the different situations\nin which killing might occur:--accident, war, fulfillment of command of\npolitical superior (as by a hangman), self-defense (defense of one's own\nlife, of others, of property), deliberate or premeditated killing with\nits different motives (jealousy, avarice, revenge, etc.), killing with\nslight premeditation, from sudden impulse, from different sorts and\ndegrees of provocation. To each one of these possible cases is assigned\nits exact moral quality, its exact degree of turpitude and innocency.\nNor can this process end with overt acts; all the inner springs of\naction which affect regard for life must be similarly classified: envy,\nanimosity, sudden rage, sullenness, cherishing of sense of injury, love\nof tyrannical power, hardness or hostility, callousness--all these must\nbe specified into their different kinds and the exact moral worth of\neach determined. What is done for this one kind of case must be done for\nevery part and phase of the entire moral life until it is all\ninventoried, catalogued, and distributed into pigeon-holes definitely\nlabelled.\n\n=Dangers of Casuistry.=--Now dangers and evils attend this way of\nconceiving the moral life, (a) _It tends to magnify the letter of\nmorality at the expense of its spirit._ It fixes attention not upon the\npositive good in an act, not upon the underlying agent's disposition\nwhich forms its spirit, nor upon the unique occasion and context which\nform its atmosphere, but upon its literal conformity with Rule A, Class\nI., Species 1, sub-head (1), etc. The effect of this is inevitably to\nnarrow the scope and lessen the depth of conduct. (i.) It tempts some to\nhunt for that classification of their act which will make it the most\nconvenient or profitable for themselves. In popular speech,\n\"casuistical\" has come to mean a way of judging acts which splits hairs\nin the effort to find a way of acting that conduces to personal\ninterest and profit, and which yet may be justified by some moral\nprinciple. (ii.) With others, this regard for the letter makes conduct\nformal and pedantic. It gives rise to a rigid and hard type of character\nillustrated among the Pharisees of olden and the Puritans of modern\ntime--the moral schemes of both classes being strongly impregnated with\nthe notion of fixed moral rules.\n\n(b) _This ethical system also tends in practice to a legal view of\nconduct._--Historically it always has sprung from carrying over legal\nideas into morality. In the legal view, liability to blame and to\npunishment inflicted from without by some superior authority, is\nnecessarily prominent. Conduct is regulated through specific injunctions\nand prohibitions: Do this, Do not do that. Exactly the sort of analysis\nof which we have spoken above (p. 327) in the case of killing is\nnecessary, so that there may be definite and regular methods of\nmeasuring guilt and assigning blame. Now the ideas of liability and\npunishment and reward are, as we shall see in our further discussion\n(chs. xvii. and xxi.), important factors in the conduct of life, but any\nscheme of morals is defective which puts the question of avoiding\npunishment in the foreground of attention, and which tends to create a\nPharisaical complacency in the mere fact of having conformed to command\nor rule.\n\n(c) _Probably the worst evil of this moral system is that it tends to\ndeprive moral life of freedom and spontaneity_ and to reduce it\n(especially for the conscientious who take it seriously) to a more or\nless anxious and servile conformity to externally imposed rules.\nObedience as loyalty to principle is a good, but this scheme practically\nmakes it the only good and conceives it not as loyalty to ideals, but as\nconformity to commands. Moral rules exist just as independent\ndeliverances on their own account, and the right thing is merely to\nfollow them. This puts the center of moral gravity outside the concrete\nprocesses of living. All systems which emphasize the letter more than\nthe spirit, legal consequences more than vital motives, put the\nindividual under the weight of external authority. They lead to the kind\nof conduct described by St. Paul as under the law, not in the spirit,\nwith its constant attendant weight of anxiety, uncertain struggle, and\nimpending doom.\n\n=All Fixed Rules Have Same Tendencies.=--Many who strenuously object to\nall of these schemes of conduct, to everything which hardens it into\nforms by emphasizing external commands, authority and punishments and\nrewards, fail to see that such evils are logically connected with any\nacceptance of the finality of fixed rules. They hold certain bodies of\npeople, religious officers, political or legal authorities, responsible\nfor what they object to in the scheme; while they still cling to the\nidea that morality is an effort to apply to particular deeds and\nprojects a certain number of absolute unchanging moral rules. They fail\nto see that, if this were its nature, those who attempt to provide the\nmachinery which would render it practically workable deserve praise\nrather than blame. In fact, the notion of absolute rules or precepts\ncannot be made workable except through certain superior authorities who\ndeclare and enforce them. Said Locke: \"It is no small power it gives one\nman over another to be the dictator of principles and teacher of\nunquestionable truths.\"\n\n=II. Utilitarian View of General Rules.=--The utilitarians escape the\ndifficulties inherent in the application to particular cases of a rule\nwhich has nothing to do with particular cases. Their principles for\njudging right and wrong in particular cases are themselves\ngeneralizations from particular observations of the effect of certain\nacts upon happiness and misery. But if we take happiness in the\ntechnical sense of Bentham (as meaning, that is, an aggregate of\nisolated pleasures) it is impossible for general rules to exist--there\nis nothing to generalize. If, however, we take happiness in its\ncommon-sense form, as welfare, a state of successful achievement,\nsatisfactory realization of purpose, there can be no doubt of the\nexistence of maxims and formulae in which mankind has registered its\nexperience. The following quotations from Mill bring out the essential\npoints:\n\n    \"We think utility or happiness much too complex and indefinite an\n    end to be sought except through the medium of various secondary\n    ends concerning which there may be, and often is, agreement among\n    persons who differ in their ultimate standard; and about which\n    there does in fact prevail a much greater unanimity among thinking\n    persons, than might be supposed from their diametrical divergence\n    on the great questions of moral metaphysics\" (_Essay on Bentham_).\n\nThese secondary ends or principles are such matters as regard for\nhealth, honesty, chastity, kindness, and the like. Concerning them he\nsays in his _Utilitarianism_ (ch. ii.):\n\n    \"Mankind must by this time have acquired positive beliefs as to\n    the effects of some actions on their happiness; and the beliefs\n    which have thus come down are rules of morality for the multitude\n    and for the philosopher until he has succeeded in finding\n    better.... To consider the rules of morality as improvable is one\n    thing; to pass over the intermediate generalizations entirely and\n    endeavor to test each individual action directly by the first\n    principle, is another.... Nobody argues that the act of navigation\n    is not founded on astronomy, because sailors cannot wait to\n    calculate the nautical almanac. Being rational creatures, they go\n    to sea with it already calculated; and all rational creatures go\n    out upon the sea of life with their minds made up on the common\n    questions of right and wrong, as well as on many of the far more\n    difficult questions of wise and foolish.\"\n\n=Empirical Rules Run into Fixed Customs.=--It cannot be denied that Mill\nhere states considerations which are of great value in aiding present\njudgments on right and wrong. The student of history will have little\ndoubt that the rules of conduct which the intuitionalist takes as\nultimate deliverances of a moral faculty are in truth generalizations of\nthe sort indicated by Mill. But the truth brought out by Mill does not\ncover the ground which needs to be covered. Such rules at best cover\ncustomary elements; they are based upon past habits of life, past\nnatural economic and political environments. And, as the student of\ncustoms knows, greater store is often set upon trivial, foolish, and\neven harmful things than upon serious ones--upon fashions of\nhair-dressing, ablutions, worship of idols. Coming nearer our own\nconditions, past customs certainly tolerate and sanction many practices,\nsuch as war, cruel business competition, economic exploitation of the\nweak, and absence of cooperative intelligent foresight, which the more\nsensitive consciences of the day will not approve.\n\n=Hence are Unsatisfactory.=--Yet such things have been so identified\nwith happiness that to forego them means misery, to alter them painful\ndisturbance. To take the rules of the past with any literalness as\ncriteria of judgment in the present, would be to return to the\nunprogressive morality of the regime of custom--to surrender the advance\nmarked by reflective morality. Since Bentham and Mill were both\nutilitarians, it is worth noting that Bentham insisted upon the\nutilitarian standard just because he was so convinced of the\nunsatisfactory character of the kind of rules upon which Mill is\ndwelling. The \"Nautical Almanac\" has been _scientifically_ calculated;\nit is adapted rationally to its end; but the rules which sum up custom\nare a confused mixture of class interest, irrational sentiment,\nauthoritative pronunciamento, and genuine consideration of welfare.\n\n=Empirical Rules Also Differ Widely.=--The fact is, moreover, that it is\nonly when the \"intermediate generalizations\" are taken vaguely and\nabstractly that there is as much agreement as Mill claims. All educated\nand virtuous persons in the same country practically agree upon the\nrules of justice, benevolence, and regard for life, so long as they are\ntaken in such a vague way that they mean anything in general and nothing\nin particular. Every one is in favor of justice in the abstract; but\nexisting political and economic discussions regarding tariff, sumptuary\nlaws, monetary standards, trades unions, trusts, the relation of capital\nand labor, the regulation or ownership of public utilities, the\nnationalization of land and industry, show that large bodies of\nintelligent and equally well-disposed people are quite capable of\nfinding that the principle of justice requires exactly opposite things.\n\nCustom still forms the background of all moral life, nor can we imagine\na state of affairs in which it should not. Customs are not external to\nindividuals' courses of action; they are embodied in the habits and\npurposes of individuals; in the words of Grote (quoted above, p. 173),\nthey \"reign under the appearance of habitual, _self-suggested_\ntendencies.\" Laws, formulated and unformulated, social conventions,\nrules of manners, the general expectations of public opinion, are all of\nthem sources of instruction regarding conduct. Without them the\nindividual would be practically helpless in determining the right\ncourses of action in the various situations in which he finds himself.\nThrough them he has provided himself in advance with a list of\nquestions, an organized series of points-of-view, by which to approach\nand estimate each state of affairs requiring action. Most of the moral\njudgments of every individual are framed in this way.\n\n=For Customs Conflict.=--If social customs, or individual habits, never\nconflicted with one another, this sort of guidance would suffice for the\ndetermination of right and wrong. But reflection is necessitated because\nopposite habits set up incompatible ends, forms of happiness between\nwhich choice has to be made. Hence the need of _principles in judging_.\nPrinciples of judgment cannot simply reinstate past rules of behavior,\nfor the simple reason that as long as these rules suffice there is no\nreflection and no demand for principles. Good and evil, right and wrong,\nare embodied in the injunctions and prohibitions of customs and\ninstitutions and are not thought about.\n\n=Moral Import of Principles is Intellectual, Not Imperative.=--This\nbrings us to the essential point in the consideration of the value of\ngeneral principles. _Rules are practical; they are habitual ways of\ndoing things. But principles are intellectual; they are useful methods\nof judging things._ The fundamental error of the intuitionalist and of\nthe utilitarian (represented in the quotation from Mill) is that they\nare on the lookout for rules which will of themselves tell agents just\nwhat course of action to pursue; _whereas the object of moral principles\nis to supply standpoints and methods which will enable the individual to\nmake for himself an analysis of the elements of good and evil in the\nparticular situation in which he finds himself_. No genuine moral\nprinciple prescribes a specific course of action; rules[165] like\ncooking recipes, may tell just what to do and how to do it. A moral\nprinciple, such as that of chastity, of justice, of the golden rule,\ngives the agent a basis for looking at and examining a particular\nquestion that comes up. It holds before him certain possible aspects of\nthe act; it warns him against taking a short or partial view of the act.\nIt economizes his thinking by supplying him with the main heads by\nreference to which to consider the bearings of his desires and purposes;\nit guides him in his thinking by suggesting to him the important\nconsiderations for which he should be on the lookout.\n\n=Golden Rule as a Tool of Analysis.=--A moral principle, then, is not a\ncommand to act or forbear acting in a given way: _it is a tool for\nanalyzing a special situation_, the right or wrong being determined by\nthe situation in its entirety, and not by the rule as such. We sometimes\nhear it stated, for example, that the universal adoption of the Golden\nRule would at once settle all industrial disputes and difficulties. But\nsupposing that the principle were accepted in good faith by everybody;\nit would not at once tell everybody just what to do in all the\ncomplexities of his relations to others. When individuals are still\nuncertain of what their real good may be, it does not finally decide\nmatters to tell them to regard the good of others as they would their\nown. Nor does it mean that whatever in detail we want for ourselves we\nshould strive to give to others. Because I am fond of classical music it\ndoes not follow that I should thrust as much of it as possible upon my\nneighbors. But the \"Golden Rule\" does furnish us a _point of view from\nwhich to consider acts_; it suggests the necessity of considering how\nour acts affect the interests of others as well as our own; it tends to\nprevent partiality of regard; it warns against setting an undue estimate\nupon a particular consequence of pain or pleasure, simply because it\nhappens to affect us. In short, the Golden Rule does not issue special\norders or commands; but it does simplify judgment of the situations\nrequiring intelligent deliberation.\n\n=Sympathy as Actuating Principle of a Reasonable Judgment.=--We have had\nrepeated occasion (as in the discussion of intent and motive, of\nintuition and deliberate calculation) to see how artificial is the\nseparation of emotion and thought from one another. As the only\neffective thought is one fused by emotion into a dominant interest, so\nthe only truly general, the reasonable as distinct from the merely\nshrewd or clever thought, is the _generous_ thought. Sympathy widens our\ninterest in consequences and leads us to take into account such results\nas affect the welfare of others; it aids us to count and weigh these\nconsequences as counting for as much as those which touch our own honor,\npurse, or power. To put ourselves in the place of another, to see from\nthe standpoint of his purposes and values, to humble our estimate of our\nown claims and pretensions to the level they would assume in the eyes of\na sympathetic and impartial observer, is the surest way to attain\nuniversality and objectivity of moral knowledge. Sympathy, in short, is\nthe general principle of moral knowledge, not because its commands take\nprecedence of others (which they do not necessarily), but because it\nfurnishes the most reliable and efficacious _intellectual_ standpoint.\nIt supplies the tool, _par excellence_, for analyzing and resolving\ncomplex cases. As was said in our last chapter, it is the _fusion_ of\nthe sympathetic impulses with others that is needed; what we now add is\nthat in this fusion, sympathy supplies the _pou sto_ for an effective,\nbroad, and objective survey of desires, projects, resolves, and deeds.\nIt translates the formal and empty reason of Kant out of its abstract\nand theoretic character, just as it carries the cold calculations of\nutilitarianism into recognition of the common good.\n\n\nLITERATURE\n\nFor criticisms of Kant's view of reason, see Caird, _Philosophy of\nKant_, Vol. II., Book II., ch. ii.; Paulsen, _System of Ethics_, pp.\n194-203 and 355-363; Fite, _Introductory Study_, pp. 173-188; Muirhead,\n_Elements of Ethics_, pp. 112-124.\n\nFor intuitionalism, see Calderwood, _Handbook of Moral Philosophy_;\nMaurice, _Conscience_; Whewell, _The Elements of Morality_; Martineau,\n_Types of Ethical Theory_, Vol. II., pp. 96-115; Mezes, _Ethics_, ch.\niii.; Sidgwick, _Methods of Ethics_, Book I., chs. viii.-ix., and Book\nIII. entire, but especially ch. i.; _History of Ethics_, 170-204, and\n224-236, and _Lectures on Ethics of Green, Spencer, and Martineau_,\n361-374.\n\nFor the moral sense theory, see Sidgwick, _History of Ethics_, p. 189;\nShaftesbury, _Characteristics_; Hutcheson, _System of Moral\nPhilosophy_.\n\nFor casuistry, see references in Rand's _Bibliography_, Vol. III., Part\nII., p. 880.\n\nFor the variability of moral rules, see Locke, _Essay on the Human\nUnderstanding_, Book I.; Bain, _Moral Science_, Part I., ch. iii.;\nSpencer, _Principles of Ethics_, Vol. I., Part II.; Williams, _Review of\nEvolutional Ethics_, pp. 423-465; Bowne, _Principles of Ethics_, ch. v.;\nSchurman, _The Ethical Import of Darwinism_; the writings of Westermarck\nand Hobhouse elsewhere referred to, and Darwin, _Descent of Man_, Part\nI., chs. iv.-v.\n\nFor the nature of moral judgment and the function of reason in conduct,\nsee Aristotle, Book III., chs. ii.-iii., and Book VI.; Ladd, _Philosophy\nof Conduct_, ch. vii.; Sharp, _Essay on Analysis of the Moral Judgment_,\nin Studies in Philosophy and Psychology (Garman Commemorative Volume);\nSantayana, _Life of Reason_, Vol. I., chs. x.-xii.; Bryant, _Studies in\nCharacter_, Part II., chs. iv.-v.\n\nFor the social character of conscience, see Cooley, _Human Nature and\nthe Social Order_, ch. x.\n\nFor sympathy and conscience, see Adam Smith, _Theory of Moral\nSentiments_, especially Part III., chs. i. and iv., and Part IV., chs.\ni.-iii.; Stephen, _Science of Ethics_, pp. 228-238.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[158] \"Any one can be angry: that is quite easy. Any one can give money\naway or spend it. But to do these things to the right person, to the\nright amount, at the right time, with the right aim and in the right\nmanner--this is not what any one can easily do.\"--ARISTOTLE, _Ethics_,\nBook II., ch. ix.\n\n[159] Compare the sentence quoted on p. 268 from Hazlitt.\n\n[160] This means Duty. This phase will be discussed in the next chapter.\n\n[161] _Kant's Theory of Ethics_, trans. by Abbott, pp. 47-51.\n\n[162] In last analysis Kant is trying to derive moral enlightenment from\nthe most abstract principle of formal logic, the principle of Identity,\nthat A is A!\n\n[163] A student in an ethics class once made this remark: \"Conscience is\ninfallible, but we should not always follow it. Sometimes we should use\nour reason.\"\n\n[164] Compare Locke, _Essay on the Human Understanding_, Book I., ch.\niii.\n\n[165] Of course, the word \"rule\" is often used to designate a\nprinciple--as in the case of the phrase \"golden-rule.\" We are speaking\nnot of the words, but of their underlying ideas.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nTHE PLACE OF DUTY IN THE MORAL LIFE: SUBJECTION TO AUTHORITY\n\n\n=Conflict of Ends as Attractive and as Reasonable.=--The previous\ndiscussion has brought out the contrast between a Good or Satisfaction\nwhich is such _directly_, immediately, by appealing attractively to\ndesire; and one which is such indirectly, through considerations which\nreflection brings up. As we have seen, the latter must, if entertained\nat all, arouse some direct emotional response, must be felt to be in\nsome way satisfactory. But the _way_ may be quite unlike that of the end\nwhich attracts and holds a man irrespective of the principle brought to\nlight by reflection. The one may be intense, vivid, absorbing, passing\nat once into overt action, unless checked by a contrary reason. The good\nwhose claim to be good depends mainly on projection of remote\nconsiderations, may be theoretically recognized and yet the direct\nappeal to the particular agent at the particular time be feeble and\npallid. The \"law of the mind\" may assert itself less urgently than the\n\"law of the members\" which wars against it.\n\n=Two Senses of Term Duty.=--This contrast gives rise to the fact of\nDuty. On one side is the rightful supremacy of the reasonable but remote\ngood; on the other side is the aversion of those springs to action which\nare immediately most urgent. Between them exists the necessity of\nsecuring for the reasonable good efficacy in operation; or the necessity\nof redirecting the play of naturally dominant desires. Duty is also\nused, to be sure, in a looser and more external sense. To identify the\ndutiful with the right apart from conflict, to say that a man did his\nduty, may mean that he did right, irrespective of the prior state of his\ninclinations. It frequently happens that the wider and larger good which\nis developed through reflective memory and foresight is welcomed, is\ndirectly appreciated as good, since it is thoroughly attractive. Without\nstress and strain, without struggle, it just displaces the object which\nunreflective impulse had suggested. It is the fit and proper, the only\nsensible and wise thing, under the circumstances. The man does his duty,\nbut is glad to do it, and would be troubled by the thought of another\nline of action. So far as calling the act \"duty\" brings in any new\nmeaning, it means that the right act is one which is found to meet the\ndemands, the necessities, of the situation in which it takes place. The\nRomans thus spoke of duties as _offices_, the performance of those\nfunctions which are appropriate to the status which every person\noccupies because of his social relations.\n\n=Conscious Conflict.=--But there are other cases in which the _right_\nend is distinctly apprehended by the person as standing in opposition to\nhis natural inclinations, as a principle or law which _ought_ to be\nfollowed, but which _can_ be followed only by constraining the\ninclinations, by snubbing and coercing them. This state of affairs is\nwell represented by the following quotation from Matthew Arnold, if we\ntake it as merely describing the facts, not as implying a theory as to\ntheir explanation:\n\n    \"All experience with conduct brings us at last to the fact of two\n    selves, or instincts, or forces--name them, however we may and\n    however we may suppose them to have arisen--contending for the\n    mastery over men: one, a movement of first impulse and more\n    involuntary, leading us to gratify any inclination that may\n    solicit us and called generally a movement of man's ordinary or\n    passing self, of sense, appetite, desire; the other a movement of\n    reflection and more voluntary, leading us to submit inclination\n    to some rule, and called generally a movement of man's higher or\n    enduring self, of reason, spirit, will.\"[166]\n\nWe shall (I.) present what we consider the true account of this\nsituation of conflict in which the sense of duty is found; (II.) turn to\nexplanations which are one-sided, taking up (1) the intuitive, (2) the\nutilitarian theory; and finally (III.) return with the results of this\ncriticism to a restatement of our own theory.\n\n\nSec. 1. THE SUBJECTION OF DESIRE TO LAW\n\nOrdinary language sets before us some main facts: duty suggests what is\ndue, a debt to be paid; ought is connected with owe; obligation implies\nbeing bound to something--as we speak of \"bounden duty.\" We speak\nnaturally of \"meeting obligations\"; of duties being \"imposed,\" \"laid\nupon\" one. The person who is habitually careless about his duties is\n\"unruly\" or \"lawless\"; one who evades or refuses them is \"unprincipled.\"\nThese ideas suggest there is something required, exacted, having the\nsanction of law, or a regular and regulative principle; and imply\nnatural aversion to the requirements exacted, a preference for something\nelse. Hence duty as a conscious factor means constraint of inclination;\nan unwillingness or reluctance which _should_ be overcome but which it\nis difficult to surmount, requiring an effort which only adequate\nrecognition of the rightful supremacy of the dutiful end will enable one\nto put forth. Thus we speak of interest conflicting with principle, and\ndesire with duty. While they are inevitably bound together, it will be\nconvenient to discuss separately (1) Inclination and impulse as averse\nto duty, and (2) Duty as having authority, as expressing law.\n\n=1. Inclination Averse to Duty.=--Directly and indirectly, all desires\nroot in certain fundamental organic wants and appetites. Conduct,\nbehavior, implies a living organism. If this organism were not equipped\nwith an intense instinctive tendency to keep itself going, to sustain\nitself, it would soon cease to be amid the menaces, difficulties,\nrebuffs, and failures of life. Life means appetites, like hunger,\nthirst, sex; instincts like anger, fear, and hope, which are almost\nimperious in their struggles for satisfaction. They do not arise from\nreflection, but antedate it; their existence does not depend upon\nconsideration of consequences, but their existence it is which tends to\ncall out reflection. Their very presence in a healthy organism means a\ncertain reservoir of energy which overflows almost spontaneously. They\nare impulsive. Such tendencies, then, constitute an essential and\nfundamental part of the capacities of a person; their realization is\ninvolved in one's happiness. In all this there is nothing abnormal nor\nimmoral. But a human being is something more than a mere demand for the\nsatisfaction of instincts of food, sex, and protection. If we admit (as\nthe theory of organic evolution requires) that all other desires and\npurposes are _ultimately_ derived from these tendencies of the organism,\nstill it is true that the refined and highly developed forms exist side\nby side with crude, organic forms, and that the simultaneous\nsatisfaction of the two types, just as they stand, is impossible.\n\n=Organic and Reflectively Formed Tendencies Conflict.=--Even if it be\ntrue, as it may well be, that the desires and purposes connected with\nproperty were developed out of instincts having to do with food for self\nand offspring, it is still true that the developed desires do not wholly\ndisplace those out of which they developed. The presence of the purposes\nelaborated by thought side by side with the more organic demands causes\nstrife and the need of resolution. The accumulation of property may\ninvolve subordinating the immediate urgency of hunger; property as an\ninstitution implies that one is not free to satisfy his appetite just as\nhe pleases, but may have to postpone or forego satisfaction, because the\nfood supply belongs to another; or that he can satisfy hunger only\nthrough some labor which in itself is disagreeable to him. Similarly the\nfamily springs originally out of the instinct of reproduction. But the\npurposes and plans which go with family life are totally inconsistent\nwith the mere gratification of sexual desire in its casual and\nspontaneous appearance. The refined, highly developed, and complex\npurposes exact a checking, a regulation and subordination of\ninclinations as they first spring up--a control to which the\ninclinations are not of themselves prone and against which they may\nrebelliously assert themselves.\n\n=Duty May Reside on the More Impulsive Side.=--It would be a great\nmistake, however, to limit the need of subordination simply to the\nunruly agencies of appetite. Habits which have been consciously or\nreflectively formed, even when in their original formation these habits\nhad the sanction and approval of reason, require control. The habits of\na professional man, of an investigator, or a lawyer, for example, have\nbeen formed through careful and persistent reflection directed upon ends\nadjudged right. Virtues of painstaking industry, of perseverance, have\nbeen formed; untimely and unseemly desires have been checked. But as an\noutcome these habits, and the desires and purposes that express them,\nhave perhaps become all-engrossing. Occupation is preoccupation. It\nencroaches upon the attention needed for other concerns. The skill\ngained tends to shut the individual up to narrow matters and to shut out\nother \"universes\" of good which should be desired. Domestic and civic\nresponsibilities are perhaps felt to be insignificant details or\nirritating burdens unworthy of attention. Thus a reflective habit,\nlegitimate in itself, right in its right place, may give rise to\ndesires and ends which involve a corrosive selfishness.\n\nMoreover, that the insubordination does not reside in appetites or\nimpulses just as appetites and impulses, is seen in the fact that duty\nmay lie on the side of a purpose connected with them, and be asserted\nagainst the force of a habit formed under the supervision of thought.\nThe student or artist may find his pursuit makes him averse to\nsatisfying the needful claims of hunger and healthy exercise. The\nprudent business man may find himself undutifully cold to the prompting\nof an impulse of pity; the student of books or special intellectual or\nartistic ends may find duty on the side of some direct human impulse.\n\n=Statement of Problem.=--Such considerations show that we cannot\nattribute the conflict of duty and inclination simply to the existence\nof appetites and unreflective impulses, as if these were in and of\nthemselves opposed to regulation by any principle. We must seek for an\nexplanation which will apply equally to appetites and to habits of\nthought. What is there common to the situations of him who feels it his\nduty to check the satisfaction of strong hunger until others have been\nproperly served, and of the scientific investigator who finds it his\nduty to check the exercise of his habit of thinking in order that he may\nsatisfy the demands of his body?\n\n=Statement of Explanation.=--Any habit, like any appetite or instinct,\nrepresents something formed, set; whether this has occurred in the\nhistory of the race or of the individual makes little difference to its\nestablished urgency. Habit is second, if not first, nature. (1) Habit\nrepresents _facilities_; what is set, organized, is relatively easy. It\n_marks the line of least resistance_. A habit of reflection, so far as\nit is a specialized habit, is as easy and natural to follow as an\norganic appetite. (2) Moreover, the exercise of any easy, frictionless\nhabit is pleasurable. It is a commonplace that use and wont deprive\nsituations of originally disagreeable features. (3) Finally, a formed\nhabit is an active _tendency_. It only needs an appropriate stimulus to\nset it going; frequently the mere absence of any strong obstacle serves\nto release its pent-up energy. It is a propensity to act in a certain\nway whenever opportunity presents. Failure to function is uncomfortable\nand arouses feelings of irritation or lack.\n\nReluctance to the right end, an aversion requiring to be overcome, if at\nall, by recognition of the superior value of the right end, is then to\nbe accounted for _on the ground of the inertia or momentum of any\norganized, established tendency_. This momentum gives the common ground\nto instinctive impulses and deliberately formed habits. The momentum\nrepresents the _old_, an adaptation to familiar, customary conditions.\nSo far as similar conditions recur, the formed power functions\neconomically and effectively, supplying ease, promptness, certainty, and\nagreeableness to the execution of an act.\n\nBut if new, changed conditions require a serious readjustment of the old\nhabit or appetite, the natural tendency will be to resist this demand.\nThus we have precisely the traits of reluctance and constraint which\nmark the consciousness of duty. A self without habits, one loose and\nfluid, in which change in one direction is just as easy as in another,\nwould not have the sense of duty. A self with no new possibilities,\nrigidly set in conditions and perfectly accommodated to them, would not\nhave it. But definite, persistent, urgent tendencies to act in a given\nway, occurring at the same time with other incompatible tendencies which\nrepresent the self more adequately and yet are not organized into\nhabits, afford the conditions of the sense of restraint. If for any\nreason the unorganized tendency is judged to be the truer expression of\nself, we have also the sense of lawful constraint. _The constraint of\nappetite and desire is a phenomenon of practical readjustment, within\nthe structure of character, due to conflict of tendencies so\nirreconcilable in their existing forms as to demand radical\nredirection._\n\nWhen an appetite is in accord with those habits of an individual which\nenable him to perform his social functions, or which naturally accrue\nfrom his social relations, it is legitimate and good; when it conflicts,\nit is illicit, it is lust; we call it by hard names and we demand that\nit be curbed; we regard its force as a menace to the integrity of the\nagent and a threat to social order. When the reflective habits of an\nindividual come into conflict with natural appetites and impulses, the\nmanifestation of which would enlarge or make more certain the powers of\nthe individual in his full relations to others, it is the reflective\nhabits which have to be held in and redirected at the cost of whatever\ndisagreeableness.\n\n=(2) The Authority of Duty.=--A duty, in Kant's words, is a\n_categorical_ imperative--it claims the absolute right of way as against\nimmediate inclination. That which, on one side, is the constraint of\nnatural desire, is, on the other, the authoritative claim of the right\nend to regulate. Over against the course of action most immediately\nurgent, most easy and comfortable, so congenial as at once to motivate\naction unless checked, stands another course, representing a wider and\nmore far-reaching point of view, and hence furnishing the rational end\nof the situation. However lacking in intensity, however austere this\nend, it stands for the whole self, and is therefore felt to be rightly\nsupreme over any partial tendency. But since it looks to realization in\nan uncertain future, rather than permission just to let go what is most\nurgent at the moment, it requires effort, hard work, work of attention\nmore or less repulsive and uncongenial. Hence that sense of stress and\nstrain, of being pulled one way by inclination and another by the claims\nof right, so characteristic of an experience of obligation.\n\n=Social Character of Duties.=--But this statement describes the\nexperience only on its formal side. In the concrete, that end which\npossesses claim to regulate desire is the one which grows out of the\nsocial position or function of the agent, out of _a course of action to\nwhich he is committed by a regular, socially established connection\nbetween himself and others_. The man who has assumed the position of a\nhusband and a parent has by that very fact entered upon a _line_ of\naction, something continuous, running far into the future; something so\nfundamental that it modifies and pervades his other activities,\nrequiring them to be coordinated or rearranged from its point of view.\nThe same thing holds, of course, of the calling of a doctor, a lawyer, a\nmerchant, a banker, a judge, or other officer of the State. Each social\ncalling implies a continuous, regular mode of action, binding together\ninto a whole a multitude of acts occurring at different times, and\ngiving rise to definite expectations and demands on the part of others.\nEvery relationship in life, is, as it were, _a tacit or expressed\ncontract with others_, committing one, by the simple fact that he\noccupies that relationship, to a corresponding mode of action. Every\none, willy-nilly, occupies a social position; if not a parent, he is a\nchild; if not an officer, then a citizen of the State; if not pursuing\nan occupation, he is in preparation for an occupation, or else is living\nupon the results of the labors of others.\n\n=Connection with Selfhood.=--Every one, in short, is in _general\nrelations to others_,--relationships which enter so internally and so\nintimately into the very make-up of his being that he is not morally\nfree to pick and choose, saying, this good is really my affair, that\nother one not. The mode of action which is required by the fact that the\nperson is a member of a complex social network is a more final\nexpression of his own nature than is the temporarily intense instinctive\nappetite, or the habit which has become \"second nature.\" It is not for\nthe individual to say, the latter is attractive and therefore really\nmine, while the former is repellant and therefore an alien intruder, to\nbe surrendered to only if it cannot be evaded. From this point of view,\nthe conflict of desire and duty, of interest and principle, expresses\nitself as a conflict between tendencies which have got organized into\none's _fixed character_ and which therefore appeal to him just as he is;\nand those tendencies which relate to the development of a larger self, a\nself which should take fuller account of social relations. The Kantian\ntheory emphasizes the fact brought out above: _viz._, that duty\nrepresents the authority of an act expressing the reasonable and\n\"universal\" self over a casual and partial self; while the utilitarian\ntheory emphasizes the part played by social institutions and demands in\ncreating and enforcing both special duties and the sense of duty in\ngeneral.\n\n\nSec. 2. KANTIAN THEORY\n\n=\"Accord with\" Duty versus \"from\" Duty.=--Kant points out that acts\nmay be \"in accordance with duty\" and yet not be done \"from duty.\"\n\"It is always, for example, a matter of duty that a dealer should not\novercharge an inexperienced purchaser, and wherever there is much\ncommerce the prudent tradesman does not overcharge.... Men are thus\nhonestly served; but this is not enough to prove that the tradesman so\nacted from duty and from principles of honesty; his own advantage\nrequired it\" (_Kant's Theory of Ethics_, Abbott's translation, p. 13).\nIn such a case the act externally viewed is in _accordance_ with duty;\nmorally viewed, it proceeds from selfish calculation of personal profit,\nnot from duty. This is true in general of all acts which, though\noutwardly right, spring from considerations of expediency, and are based\non the consideration that \"honesty (or whatever) is the best policy.\"\nPersons are naturally inclined to take care of their health, their\nproperty, their children, or whatever belongs to them. Such acts, no\nmatter how much they accord with duty, are not done _from duty_, but\nfrom inclination. If a man is suffering, unfortunate, desirous of death,\nand yet cherishes his life with no love for it, but from the duty to do\nso, his motive has truly moral value. So if a mother cares for her\nchild, _because_ she recognizes that it is her duty, the act is truly\nmoral.\n\n=From Duty alone Moral.=--According to Kant, then, acts alone have moral\nimport that are consciously performed \"from duty,\" that is, with\nrecognition of its authority as their animating spring. \"_The idea of\ngood and evil (in their moral sense) must not be determined before the\nmoral law, but only after it and by means of it_\" (_Ibid._, p. 154). All\nour desires and inclinations seek naturally for an _end_ which is\ngood--for happiness, success, achievement. No one of them nor all of\nthem put together, then, can possibly supply the motive of acting _from_\nduty. Hence duty and its authority must spring from another source, from\nreason itself, which supplies the consciousness of a law which _ought_\nto be the motive of every act, whether it is or not. The utilitarians\ncompletely reverse the truth of morals when they say that the idea of\nthe good end comes first and the \"right\" is that which realizes the good\nend.\n\n=Dual Constitution of Man.=--We are all familiar with the notion that\nman has a dual constitution; that he is a creature both of sense and\nspirit; that he has a carnal and an ideal nature; a lower and a higher\nself, a self of appetite and of reason. Now Kant's theory of duty is a\npeculiar version of this common notion. Man's special ends and purposes\nall spring from desires and inclinations. These are all for personal\nhappiness and hence without moral worth. They form man's sensuous,\nappetitive nature, which if not \"base\" in itself easily becomes so,\nbecause it struggles with principle for the office of supplying motives\nfor action. The principle of a law absolutely binding, requires the\ncomplete expulsion of the claim of desires to _motivate_ action. (See\n_Kant's Theory_, pp. 70-79; 132-136; 159-163.) If a man were an animal,\nhe would have only appetite to follow; if he were a god or angel, he\nwould have only reason. Being man, being a peculiar compound of sense\nand reason, he has put upon him the problem of resisting the natural\nprompting of inclination and of accepting the duty of acting from\nreverence for duty.\n\n=Criticism of Kant's Theory.=--There is an undoubted fact back of Kant's\nconception which gives it whatever plausibility it has--the fact that\ninclinations which are not necessarily evil tend to claim a controlling\nposition, a claim which has to be resisted. The peculiarity of Kant's\ninterpretation lies in its complete and final separation of the two\naspects, \"higher\" and \"lower,\" the appetitive and rational, of man's\nnature, and it is upon this separation, accordingly, that our discussion\nwill be directed.\n\n=I. Duty and the Affections.=--In the first place, Kant's absolute\nseparation of sense or appetite from reason and duty, because of its\nnecessary disparagement of the affections leads to a formal and pedantic\nview of morality. It is one thing to say that desire as it _first_ shows\nitself _sometimes_ prompts to a morally inadequate end; it is quite\nanother thing to say that _any_ acceptance of an end of desire as a\nmotive is morally wrong--that the act to be right must be first brought\nunder a conscious acknowledgment of some law or principle. Only the\nexigencies of a ready-made theory would lead any one to think that\nhabitual purposes that express the habitually dominant tendencies and\npowers of the agent, may not suffice to keep morally sound the main\ntenor of behavior; that it is impossible for regard for right ends to\nbecome organized into character and to be fused into working unity with\nnatural impulses. Only a metaphysical theory regarding the separation\nof sense and reason in man leads to the denial of this fact.\n\nBetween the merchant who is honest in his weights and fixed in his\nprices merely because he calculates that such a course is to his own\nadvantage, and the merchant (if such a person could exist) who should\nnever sell a spool of thread or a paper of pins without having first\nreminded himself that his ultimate motive for so doing was respect for\nthe law of duty, there is the ordinary merchant who is honest because he\nhas the desires characteristic of an honest man. Schiller has made fun\nof the artificial stringency of Kant's theory in some verses which\nrepresent a disciple coming to Kant with his perplexity:\n\n  \"Willingly serve I my friends, but I do it, alas with affection.\n  Hence I am plagued with this doubt, virtue I have not attained!\"\n\nto which he received the reply:\n\n  \"This is your only resource, you must stubbornly seek to abhor them;\n  Then you can do with disgust that which the law may enjoin.\"\n\nThese verses are a caricature of Kant's position; he does not require\nthat affections should be crushed, but that they should be stamped with\nacknowledgment of law before being accepted as motives. But the verses\nbring out the absurd element in the notion that the affections and\ninclinations may not of themselves be morally adequate springs to\naction,--as if a man could not eat his dinner simply because he was\nhungry, or be amiable to a companion because he wanted to be, or relieve\ndistress because his compassionate nature urged him to it.\n\nIt is worth while noting that some moralists have gone to the opposite\nextreme and have held that an act is not right unless it expresses the\noverflowing spontaneity of the affections; that a man's act is only\nimperfectly right when he performs it not from affection, but from\ncoercion by duty. Thus Emerson speaks of men who \"do by knowledge what\nthe stones do by structure.\" And again, \"We love characters in\nproportion as they are impulsive and spontaneous. When we see a soul\nwhose acts are all regal, graceful, and pleasant as roses, we must thank\nGod that such things can be and are, and not turn sourly on the angel\nand say, 'Crump is a better man with his grunting resistance to all his\nnative devils.'\" The facts seem to be that while, in a good man, natural\nimpulses and formed habits are adequate motive powers under ordinary\nconditions, there are times when an end, somewhat weak in its motive\nforce because it does not express an habitually dominant power of the\nself, needs to be reenforced by associations which have gathered at all\nperiods of his past around the experience of good. There is a certain\nreservoir of emotional force which, while far from fluid, is capable of\ntransfer and application, especially in a conscientious person. Kant\ncriticizes the moral sense theory on the ground that \"in order to\nimagine the vicious man tormented with a sense of his transgressions, it\nmust first represent him as morally good in the main trend of his\ncharacter\" (Abbott, p. 128). Well, a man who is capable of making appeal\nto the sense of duty in general, is the one in whom love of good is\nalready dominant.\n\n=II. Tendency to Fanaticism and Idealization of Authority.=--Kant's\ntheory of fixed and final separation between desire and reason leads us\ninto a fatal dilemma; either a right end is impossible, or any end is\nright provided we fall back on a belief that it is our duty to perform\nit. Kant holds that every concrete end, every definite purpose which we\nentertain, comes from desire. Law utters no specific command except \"do\nyour duty\"; it stamps an end of desire as right only when it is pursued,\nnot because it is an end of desire, but \"from duty.\" The actual end\nwhich is before us is, in any case, supplied through inclination and\ndesire. Reason furnishes _principle_ as a _motive_. We have here, in\nanother form, the separation of end and motive which has already\noccupied us (p. 248). End and motive are so disconnected, so irrelevant\nto one another, that we have no alternative except either to condemn\nevery end, because, being prompted by desire, it falls so far short of\nthe majesty of duty; or else fanatically to persist in any course when\nonce we have formally brought it under the notion of duty.\n\nThe latter alternative would be the one chosen by a truly Kantian agent\nbecause it is alone possible in practice. But the moral fanatic does\nabout as much evil in the world as the man of no moral principle.\nReligious wars, persecutions, intolerance, harsh judgment of others,\nobstinate persistence in a course of action once entered upon in spite\nof the testimony of experience to the harm that results; blind devotion\nto narrow and one-sided aims; deliberate opposition to art, culture,\nsocial amenities, recreations, or whatever the \"man of principle\"\nhappens to find obnoxious: pharisaical conviction of superiority, of\nbeing the peculiar, chosen instrument of the moral law;--these and the\ncountless ills that follow in their wake, are inevitable effects of\nerecting the isolated conviction of duty into a sufficient motive of\naction. So far as these evils do not actually flow from an acceptance of\nthe Kantian principle, it is because that has been promulgated and for\nthe most part adopted, where reverence for authority and law is strong.\nIn Germany the Kantian philosophy has, upon the whole, served as a help\nin criticizing law and procedure on the basis of their rationality,\nwhile it has also served as a convenient stamp of rational sanction upon\na politically authoritative regime, already fairly reasonable, as such\nmatters go, in the content of its legislation and administration.\n\n=III. Meaning of Duty for Duty's Sake.=--It is a sound principle to do\nour duty _as_ our duty, and not for the sake of something else. \"Duty\nfor duty's sake\" means, in truth, _an act for the act's own sake_; the\ngift of cold water, the word of encouragement, the sweeping of the room,\nthe learning of the lesson, the selling of the goods, the painting of\nthe picture, because they are the things really called for at a given\ntime, and hence their own excuses for being. _No moral act is a means to\nanything beyond itself,--not even to morality._ But, upon Kant's theory,\nduty for duty's sake means a special act not for its own sake, but for\nthe sake of abstract principle. Just as the hedonists regard a special\nact as a mere means to happiness, so Kant makes the concrete act a mere\nmeans to virtue. As there is a \"hedonistic paradox,\" namely that the way\nto get happiness is to forget it, to devote ourselves to things and\npersons about us; so there is a \"moralistic\" paradox, that the way to\nget goodness is to cease to think of it--as something separate--and to\ndevote ourselves to the realization of the full value of the practical\nsituations in which we find ourselves. Men can really think of their\n\"duty\" only when they are thinking of specific things to be done; to\nthink of Duty at large or in the abstract is one of the best ways of\navoiding doing it, or of doing it in a partial and perverted way.\n\n=Summary of Criticism of Kant.=--To sum up, the theory which regards\nduty as having its source in a rational self which is independent of and\nabove the self of inclination and affection (1) deprives the habitual\ndesires and affections, which make the difference between one concrete\ncharacter and another, of moral significance; (2) commits us to an\nunenlightened performance of what is called duty irrespective of its\nreal goodness; and (3) makes moral principle a remote abstraction,\ninstead of the vivifying soul of a concrete deed. Its strongest point,\nits insistence upon the _autonomous_ character of duty, or that duty is\norganically connected with the self in some of its phases or functions,\nwill appear more clearly as we contrast it with the utilitarian theory.\n\n\n\nSec. 3. THE UTILITARIAN THEORY OF DUTY\n\n=Problem of Duty on Hedonistic Basis.=--The utilitarians' explanation of\nthe constraint of desire by the authority of right is framed to meet the\npeculiar difficulty in which their hedonistic theory places them. If\npleasure is the good, and if all desire is naturally for the good, why\nshould desire have to be constrained? How can such a thing as \"duty\"\nexist at all? For to say that a man is obliged or bound to seek that\nwhich he just can't help seeking is absurd. There is, according to the\nutilitarian, a difference, however, between the pleasure which is the\nobject of desire and that which is the standard of judgment. The former\nis the person's own pleasure; it is private. The happiness which\nmeasures the rightness of the act is that of all persons who are\naffected by it. In view of this divergence, there must, if right action\nis to occur, be agencies which operate upon the individual so as to make\nhim find his personal pleasure in that which conduces to the general\nwelfare. These influences are the expectations and demands of _others so\nfar as they attach consequences in the way of punishment, of suffering,\nand of reward and pleasure, to the deeds of an individual_.\n\nIn this way the natural inclination of an individual towards a certain\npleasure, or his natural revulsion from a certain pain, may be checked\nand transformed by recognition that if he seeks the pleasure, others\nwill inflict more than an equivalent pain, or if he bears the pain,\nothers will reward him with more than compensating pleasures. In such\ncases, we have the fact of duty or obligation. There is constraint of\nfirst inclination through recognition of superior power, this power\nbeing asserted in its expressly declared intention of rewarding and\npenalizing according as its prescriptions are or are not followed. These\nare the factors: (1) demands, expectations, rules externally imposed;\n(2) consequences in the way of proffered reward of pleasure, and penalty\nof pain; (3) resulting constraint of the natural manifestation of\ndesires. In the main, the theory is based on the analogy of legal\nobligations.[167]\n\n=(a) Bentham's Account.=--Bentham dislikes the very word duty; and\nspeaks preferably of the \"sanctions\" of an act. The following quotations\nwill serve to confirm the foregoing statements.\n\n    \"The happiness of the individuals of whom a community is composed\n    is ... the sole standard, in conformity to which each individual\n    _ought_ to be made to fashion his behavior. But whether it be\n    this, or anything else that is to be done, there is nothing by\n    which a man can ultimately be _made_ to do it, but either pain or\n    pleasure.\"\n\nA kind of pain or pleasure which tends to _make_ an individual find his\nown good in the good of the community is a _sanction_. Of these Bentham\nmentions four kinds, of which the first alone is not due to the will of\nothers, but is _physical_. Thus the individual may check his inclination\nto drink by a thought of the ills that flow from drunkenness.\nMetaphorically, then, he may be said to have a duty not to drink;\nstrictly speaking, however, this is his own obvious interest. The\nsanctions proper are (a) political, consequences in the way of pleasure\nand pain (especially pain) attached to injunctions and prohibitions by a\nlegal superior; (b) popular, the consequences following from the more\nindefinite influence of public opinion--such as being \"sent to\nCoventry,\" being shunned, rendered unpopular, losing reputation, or\nhonor, etc.; and (3) religious, penalties of hell and rewards of heaven\nattached to action by a divine being, or similar penances and rewards\nby the representatives on earth (church, priests, etc.) of this divine\nbeing.[168]\n\n=Value and Deficiencies of This View.=--The strong point of this\nexplanation of duty is obviously that it recognizes the large, the very\nlarge, role played by social institutions, regulations, and demands in\nbringing home to a person the fact that certain acts, whether he is\nnaturally so inclined or not, should be performed. But its weak point is\nthat it tends to identify duty with coercion; to change the \"ought\" if\nnot into a physical \"must,\" at least into the psychological \"must\" of\nfear of pain and hope of pleasure. Hope of reward and fear of penalty\nare real enough motives in human life; but acts performed mainly or\nsolely on their account do not, in the unprejudiced judgment of mankind,\nrank very high morally. Habitually to appeal to such motives is rather\nto weaken than to strengthen the tendencies in the individual which make\nfor right action. The difficulty lies clearly in the purely _external_\ncharacter of the \"sanctions,\" and this in turn is due to the fact that\nthe obligations imposed by the demands and expectancies of others do not\nhave any intrinsic connection with the character of the individual of\nwhom they are exacted. They are wholly external burdens and impositions.\n\nThe individual, with his desires and his pleasures, being made up out of\nparticular states of feeling, is complete in himself. Social\nrelationships must then be alien and external; if they modify in any way\nthe existing body of feelings they are artificial constraints. One\nindividual merely _happens_ to live side by side with other individuals,\nwho are in themselves isolated, and are complete in their isolation. If\ntheir external acts conflict, it may be necessary to invade and change\nthe body of feelings which make up the self from which the act flows.\nHence duty.\n\nThe later development of utilitarianism tended to get away from this\npsychical and atomic individualism; and to conceive the good of an\nindividual as including _within_ himself relations to others. So far as\nthis was done, the demands of others, public opinion, laws, etc., became\nfactors _in the development of the individual, and in arousing him to an\nadequate sense of what his good is, and of interest in effecting it_.\nLater utilitarianism dwells less than Bentham upon external sanctions,\nand more upon an unconscious shaping of the individual's character and\nmotives through imitation, education, and all the agencies which mould\nthe individual's desires into natural agreement with the social type.\nWhile it is John Stuart Mill who insists most upon the internal and\nqualitative change of disposition that thus takes place,[169] it is Bain\nand Spencer who give the most detailed account of the methods by which\nit is brought about.\n\n=(b) Bain's Account.=--His basis agrees with Bentham's: \"The proper\nmeaning, or import, of the terms (duty, obligation) refers to that class\nof action which is enforced by the sanction of punishment\" (Bain,\n_Emotions and Will_, p. 286). But he sets less store by political\nlegislation and the force of vague public opinion, and more by the\ngradual and subtle processes of family education. The lesson of\nobedience, that there are things to be done whether one wishes or no, is\nimpressed upon the child almost unremittingly from the very first moment\nof life. There are three stages in the complete evolution of the sense\nof duty. The first, the lowest and that beyond which some persons never\ngo, is that in which \"susceptibility to pleasure and pain is made use\nof to bring about obedience, and a mental association is rapidly formed\nbetween the obedience and apprehended pain, more or less magnified by\nfear.\" The fact that punishment may be kept up until the child desists\nfrom the act \"leaves on his mind a certain dread and awful impression as\nconnected with forbidden actions.\" Here we have in its germ conscience,\nacknowledgment of duty, in its most external form.\n\nA child in a good home (and a citizen in a good state) soon adds other\nassociations. The command is uttered, the penalty threatened, by those\nwhom he admires, respects, and loves. This element brings in a new\ndread--the fear of giving pain to the beloved object. Such dread is more\ndisinterested. It centers rather about the point of view from which the\nact is held wrong than about the thought of harm to self. As\nintelligence develops, the person apprehends the positive ends, the\ngoods, which are protected by the command put on him; he sees the use\nand reason of the prohibition to which he is subject, and approving of\nwhat it safeguards, approves the restriction itself. \"A new motive is\nadded on and begirds the action with a threefold fear.... If the duty\nprescribed has been approved of by the mind as _protective of the\ngeneral interests of persons engaging our sympathies_, the violation of\nthis on our part affects us with all the pain that we feel from\ninflicting _an injury upon those interests_.\"\n\n=Transformation into an Internal Power.=--When the child appreciates\n\"_the reasons for the command, the character of conscience is entirely\ntransformed_.\" The fear which began as fear of the penalty that a\nsuperior power may inflict, adds to itself the fear of displeasing a\nbeloved person; and is finally transformed into the dread of injuring\ninterests the worth of which the individual appreciates and in which he\nshares. The sense of duty now \"stands upon an independent foundation.\"\nIt is an internal \"ideal resemblance of public authority,\" \"an imitation\n(or facsimile) within ourselves of the government without us.\" \"Regard\nis now had to the intent and meaning of the law and not to the mere fact\nof its being prescribed by some power.\" Thus there is developed a sense\nof obligation in general, which may be detached from the particular\ndeeds which were originally imposed under the sanction of penalty, and\ntransferred to new ends which have never even been socially imposed,\nwhich the individual has perhaps for the first time conceived within\nhimself. \"The feeling and habit of obligation\" which was generated from\nsocial pressure remains, but as a distinct individually cherished thing\n(Bain, _Emotions and Will_, p. 319 n.). This view of the _final_ sense\nof obligation thus approximates Kant's view of the autonomous character\nof duty.\n\n=(c) Spencer's Account.=--Herbert Spencer (like Bentham) lays emphasis\nupon the restraining influence of various social influences, but lays\nstress, as Bentham does not, upon the _internal_ changes effected by\nlong-continued, unremitting pressure exercised through the entire period\nof human evolution. Taken in itself, the consciousness of duty--the\ndistinctively moral consciousness--is the control of proximate ends by\nremote ones, of simple by complex aims, of the sensory or presentative\nby the ideal or representative. An undeveloped individual or race lives\nand acts in the present; the mature is controlled by foresight of an\nindefinitely distant future. The thief who steals is actuated by a\nsimple feeling, the mere impulse of acquisition; the business man\nconducts his acquisition in view of highly complex considerations of\nproperty and ownership. A low-grade intelligence acts only upon sensory\nstimulus, immediately present; a developed mind is moved by elaborate\nintellectual constructions, by imaginations and ideas which far outrun\nthe observed or observable scene. Each step of the development of\nintelligence, of culture, whether in the individual or the race, is\ndependent upon ability to _subordinate_ the immediate simple,\nphysically present tendency and aim to the remote, compound, and only\nideally present intention (Spencer, _Principles of Ethics_, Vol. I.,\nPart I, ch. vii.).\n\n=Subordination of Near to Remote Good Dependent on Social\nInfluences.=--\"The conscious relinquishment of immediate and special\ngood to gain distant and general good ... is a cardinal trait of the\nself-restraint called moral.\" But this develops out of forms of\nrestraint which are not moral; where the \"relinquishment\" and\nsubordination of the present and temporary good is not consciously\nwilled by the individual in view of a conscious appreciation of a\ndistant and inclusive good; but where action in view of the latter is\nforced upon the individual by outside authority, operating by menace,\nand having the sanction of fear. These outside controls are three in\nnumber: political or legal; supernatural, priestly, or religious; and\npopular. All these external controls, working through dread of pain and\npromise of reward, bring about, however, in the individual a habit of\nlooking to the remote, rather than to the proximate, end. At first the\nthought of these extrinsic consequences, those which do not flow from\nthe act but from the reaction of others to it, is mixed up with the\nthought of its own proper consequences. But this association causes\nattention at least to be fixed upon intrinsic consequences that, because\nof their remoteness and complexity, might otherwise escape attention.\nGradually the thought of them grows in clearness and efficacy and\ndissociates itself as a motive from the externally imposed consequences,\nand there is a control which alone is truly moral.\n\n=The Internal Sanction.=--\n\n    \"The truly moral deterrent from murder, is not constituted by a\n    representation of hanging as a consequence, or by a representation\n    of tortures in hell as a consequence, or by a representation of\n    the horror and hatred excited in fellow-men; but by a\n    representation of the _necessary natural results_--the infliction\n    of death agony on the victim, the destruction of all his\n    possibilities of happiness, the entailed sufferings to his\n    belongings\" (Spencer, _Ibid._, p. 120).\n\nThe external constraints thus serve as a schoolmaster to bring the race\nand the individual to internal restraint. Gradually the abstract sense\nof coerciveness, authoritativeness, the need of controlling the present\nby the future good is disentangled, and there arises the sense of duty\nin general. But even this \"is transitory and will diminish as fast as\nmoralization increases\" (_Ibid._, p. 127). Persistence in performance of\na duty makes it a pleasure; an habitually exercised obligation is\nnaturally agreeable.\n\nIn the present state of evolutionary development, obligation, or the\ndemands made by the external environment, and spontaneous inclination,\nor the demand of the organism, cannot coincide. But at the goal of\nevolution, the organism and environment will be in perfect adjustment.\nActions congenial to the former and appropriate to the latter will\ncompletely coincide. \"In their proper times and places, and proportions,\nthe moral sentiments will guide men just as spontaneously and adequately\nas now do the sensations\" (_Ibid._, p. 129).\n\n=Criticism of Utilitarianism.=--The utilitarian account of the\ndevelopment of the consciousness of duty or its emphasis upon concrete\nfacts of social arrangements and education affords a much-needed\nsupplement to the empty and abstract formalism of Kant. (i.) The\nindividual is certainly brought to his actual recognition of specific\nduties and to his consciousness of obligation or moral law in general\nthrough social influences. Bain insists more upon the family training\nand discipline of its immature members; Bentham and Spencer more upon\nthe general institutional conditions, or the organization of government,\nlaw, judicial procedure, crystallized custom, and public opinion. In\nreality, these two conditions imply and reenforce each other. It is\nthrough the school of the family, for the most part, that the meaning\nof the requirements of the larger and more permanent institutions are\nbrought home to the individual; while, on the other hand, the family\nderives the aims and values which it enforces upon the attention of its\nindividual members mainly from the larger society in which it finds its\nown setting. (ii.) The later utilitarianism, in its insistence upon an\n\"internal sanction,\" upon the ideal personal, or free facsimile of\npublic authority, upon regard for \"intrinsic consequences,\" corrects the\nweak point in Bentham (who relies so unduly upon mere threat of\npunishment and mere fear of pain) and approximates in practical effect,\nthough not in theory, Kant's doctrine of the connection of duty with the\nrational or \"larger\" self which is social, even if individual. Even in\nits revised version utilitarianism did not wholly escape from the rigid\nunreal separation between the selfhood of the agent and his social\nsurroundings forced upon it by its hedonistic psychology.\n\n=Fictitious Theory of Nature of Self.=--The supposition that the\nindividual starts with mere love of private pleasure, and that, if he\never gets beyond to consideration of the good of others, it is because\nothers have forced their good upon him by interfering with his private\npleasures, is pure fiction. The requirements, encouragements, and\napprobations of others react not primarily upon the pleasures and\ncalculations of the individual, but upon his _activities_, upon his\ninclinations, desires, habits. There is a common defect in the\nutilitarian and Kantian psychology. Both neglect the importance of the\nactive, the organically spontaneous and direct tendencies which enter\ninto the individual. Both assume unreal \"_states_ of consciousness,\"\npassive sensations, and feelings. Active tendencies may be internally\nmodified and redirected by the very conditions and consequences of their\nown exercise. Family discipline, jural influences, public opinion, may\ndo little, or they may do much. But their educative influence is as far\nfrom the mere association of feelings of pleasure and pain as it is\nfrom Kant's purely abstract law. _Social influences enable an individual\nto realize the weight and import of the socially available and helpful\nmanifestations of the tendencies of his own nature and to discriminate\nthem from those which are socially harmful or useless._ When the two\nconflict, the perception of the former is the recognition of duties as\ndistinct from _mere_ inclinations.\n\n\nSec. 3. FINAL STATEMENT\n\n=Duty and a Growing Character.=--Duty is what is owed by a partial\nisolated self embodied in established, facile, and urgent tendencies, to\nthat ideal self which is presented in aspirations which, since they are\nnot yet formed into habits, have no organized hold upon the self and\nwhich can get organized into habitual tendencies and interests only by a\nmore or less painful and difficult reconstruction of the habitual self.\nFor Kant's fixed and absolute separation between the self of inclination\nand the self of reason, we substitute the relative and shifting\ndistinction between those factors of self which have become so\ndefinitely organized into set habits that they take care of themselves,\nand those other factors which are more precarious, less crystallized,\nand which depend therefore upon conscious acknowledgment and\nintentionally directed affection. The consciousness of duty grows out of\nthe complex character of the self; the fact that at any given time, it\nhas tendencies relatively set, ingrained, and embodied in fixed habits,\nwhile it also has tendencies in process of making, looking to the\nfuture, taking account of unachieved possibilities. The former give the\nsolid relatively formed elements of character; the latter, its ideal or\nunrealized possibilities. Each must play into the other; each must help\nthe other out.\n\nThe conflict of duty and desire is thus an accompaniment of a _growing_\nself. Spencer's complete disappearance of obligation would mean an\nexhausted and fossilized self; wherever there is progress, tension\narises between what is already accomplished and what is possible. In a\nbeing whose \"reach should exceed his grasp,\" a conflict within the self\nmaking for the readjustment of the direction of powers must always be\nfound. The value of continually _having to meet the expectations and\nrequirements of others is in keeping the agent from resting on his oars,\nfrom falling back on habits already formed as if they were final_. The\nphenomena of duty in all their forms are thus phenomena attendant upon\nthe expansion of ends and the reconstruction of character. So far,\naccordingly, as the recognition of duty is capable of operating as a\ndistinct reenforcing motive, it operates most effectively, not as an\ninterest in duty, or law in the abstract, but as an interest in progress\nin the face of the obstacles found within character itself.\n\n\nLITERATURE\n\nThe most important references on the subject of duty are given in the\ntext. To these may be added: Ladd, _Philosophy of Conduct_, chs. v. and\nxv.; Mackenzie, _Manual_, Part I., ch. iv.; Green, _Prolegomena_, pp.\n315-320, 353-354 and 381-388; Sharp, _International Journal of Ethics_,\nVol. II., pp. 500-513; Muirhead, _Elements of Ethics_, Book II., ch.\nii.; McGilvary, _Philosophical Review_, Vol. XI., pp. 333-352; Stephen,\n_Science of Ethics_, pp. 161-171; Sturt, _International Journal of\nEthics_, Vol. VII., 334-345; Schurman, _Philosophical Review_, Vol.\nIII., pp. 641-654; Guyau, _Sketch of Morals, without Obligation or\nSanction_.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[166] _Last Essays on Church and Religion_, preface.\n\n[167] Historically it has often taken theological form. Thus Paley\ndefined virtue as \"doing good to mankind in obedience to the will of\nGod, and for the sake of everlasting happiness.\" Of obligation he said,\n\"A man is said to be obliged, when he is urged by a violent motive\nresulting from the command of another.\"\n\n[168] The earlier English utilitarians (though not called by that name),\nsuch as Tucker and Paley, assert that upon this earth there is no exact\ncoincidence of the right and the pleasure-giving; that it is future\nrewards and punishments which make the equilibrium. Sidgwick, among\nrecent writers, has also held that no complete identification of virtue\nand happiness can be found apart from religious considerations. (See\n_Methods of Ethics_, p. 505. For theological utilitarianism see Albee,\n_History_.)\n\n[169] See his _Utilitarianism_, ch. iii.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\nTHE PLACE OF THE SELF IN THE MORAL LIFE\n\n\nWe have reached the conclusion that disposition as manifest in endeavor\nis the seat of moral worth, and that this worth itself consists in a\nreadiness to regard the general happiness even against contrary\npromptings of personal comfort and gain. This brings us to the problems\nconnected with the nature and functions of the self. We shall, in our\nsearch for the moral self, pass in review the conceptions which find\nmorality in (1) Self-Denial or Self-Sacrifice, (2) Self-Assertion, (3)\nCombination of Regard for Self and for Others, (4) Self-Realization.\n\n\nSec. 1. THE DOCTRINE OF SELF-DENIAL\n\n=Widespread Currency of the Doctrine.=--The notion that real goodness,\nor virtue, consists essentially in abnegation of the self, in denying\nand, so far as may be, eliminating everything that is of the nature of\nthe self, is one of the oldest and most frequently recurring notions of\nmoral endeavor and religion, as well as of moral theory. It describes\nBuddhism and, in large measure, the monastic ideal of Christianity,\nwhile, in Protestantism, Puritanism is permeated with its spirit. It\ncharacterized Cynicism and Stoicism. Kant goes as far as to say that\nevery rational being must wish to be wholly free from inclinations.\nPopular morality, while not going so far as to hold that all moral\ngoodness is self-denial, yet more or less definitely assumes that\nself-denial on its own account, irrespective of what comes out of it, is\nmorally praiseworthy. A notion so deeply rooted and widely flourishing\nmust have strong motives in its favor, all the more so because its\npractical vogue is always stronger than any reasons which are\ntheoretically set forth.\n\n=Origin of the Doctrine.=--The notion arises from the tendency to\nidentify the self with one of its own factors. It is one and the same\nself which conceives and is interested in some generous and ideal good\nthat is also tempted by some near, narrow, and exclusive good. The force\nof the latter resides in the _habitual_ self, in purposes which have got\nthemselves inwrought into the texture of ordinary character. Hence there\nis a disposition to overlook the complexity of selfhood, and to identify\nit with those factors in the self which resist ideal aspiration, and\nwhich are recalcitrant to the thought of duty; to identify the self with\nimpulses that are inclined to what is frivolous, sensuous and sensual,\npleasure-seeking. All vice being, then, egoism, selfishness,\nself-seeking, the remedy is to check it at its roots; to keep the self\ndown in its proper place, denying it, chastening it, mortifying it,\nrefusing to listen to its promptings. Ignoring the variety and subtlety\nof the factors that make up the self, all the different elements of\nright and of wrong are gathered together and set over against each\nother. All the good is placed once for all in some outside source, some\nhigher law or ideal; and the source of all evil is placed within the\ncorrupted and vile self. When one has become conscious of the serious\nnature of the moral struggle; has found that vice is easy, and to err\n\"natural,\" needing only to give way to some habitual impulse or desire;\nthat virtue is arduous, requiring resistance and strenuous effort, one\nis apt to overlook the habitual tendencies which are the ministers of\nthe higher goods. One forgets that unless ideal ends were also rooted in\nsome natural tendencies of the self, they could neither occur to the\nself nor appeal to the self. Hence everything is swept into the idea\nthat the self is inherently so evil that it must be denied, snubbed,\nsacrificed, mortified.\n\nIn general, to point out the truth which this theory perverts, to\nemphasize the demand for constant reconstruction and rearrangement of\nthe habitual powers of the self--is sufficient criticism of it. But in\ndetail the theory exercises such pervasive influence that it is worth\nwhile to mention specifically some of the evils that accrue from it.\n\n=1. It so Maims and Distorts Human Nature as to Narrow the Conception of\nthe Good.=--In its legitimate antagonism to pleasure-seeking, it becomes\na foe to happiness, and an implacable enemy of all its elements. Art is\nsuspected, for beauty appeals to the lust of the eye. Family life roots\nin sexual impulses, and property in love of power, gratification, and\nluxury. Science springs from the pride of the intellect; the State from\nthe pride of will. _Asceticism_ is the logical result; a purely negative\nconception of virtue. But it surely does dishonor, not honor, to the\nmoral life to conceive it as mere negative subjection of the flesh, mere\nholding under control the lust of desire and the temptations of\nappetite. All positive content, all liberal achievement, is cut out and\nmorality is reduced to a mere struggle _against_ solicitations to sin.\nWhile asceticism is in no danger of becoming a popular doctrine, there\nis a common tendency to conceive self-control in this negative fashion;\nto fail to see that the important thing is some positive good _for_\nwhich a desire is controlled. In general we overemphasize that side of\nmorality which consists in abstinence and _not_ doing wrong.\n\n=2. To Make so Much of Conflict with the \"Flesh,\" is to Honor the Latter\ntoo Much.=--It is to fix too much attention on it. It is an open lesson\nof psychology that to oppose doing an act by mere injunction not to do\nit, is to increase the power of the thing _not_ to be done, and to\nweaken the spring and effectiveness of the other motives, which, if\npositively attended to, might keep the obnoxious motive from gaining\nsupremacy. The \"expulsive power\" of a generous affection is more to be\nrelied upon than effort to suppress, which keeps alive the very thing to\nbe suppressed. The history of monks and Puritan saints alike is full of\ntestimony to the fact that withdrawal from positive generous and\nwholesome aims reenforces the vitality of the lower appetites and\nstimulates the imagination to play about them. Flagellation and fasting\nwork as long as the body is exhausted; but the brave organism reasserts\nitself, and its capacities for science, art, the life of the family and\nthe State not having been cultivated, sheer ineradicable physical\ninstinct is most likely to come to the front.\n\n=3. We Judge Others by Ourselves Because We Have No Other Way to\nJudge.=--It is impossible for a man who conceives his own good to be in\n\"going without,\" in just restricting himself, to have any large or\nadequate idea of the good of others. Unconsciously and inevitably a\nhardening and narrowing of the conditions of the lives of others\naccompanies the reign of the Puritanic ideal. The man who takes a high\nview of the capacities of human nature in itself, who reverences its\npossibilities and is jealous for their high maintenance in himself, is\nthe one most likely to have keen and sensitive appreciation of the needs\nof others. There is, moreover, no selfishness, no neglect of others more\nthoroughgoing, more effectively cruel than that which comes from\npreoccupation with the attainment of personal goodness, and this\ninterest is an almost inevitable effect of devotion to the negative\nideal of self-denial.\n\n=4. The Principle Radically Violates Human Nature.=--This indeed is its\nclaim--that human nature, just as human nature, requires to have\nviolence done it. But the capacities which constitute the self demand\nfulfillment. The place, the time, the manner, the degree, and the\nproportion of their fulfillment, require infinite care and pains, and to\nsecure this attention is the business of morals. Morals is a matter of\ndirection, not of suppression. The urgency of desires and capacities for\nexpression cannot be got rid of; nature cannot be expelled. If the need\nof happiness, of satisfaction of capacity, is checked in one direction,\nit will manifest itself in another. If the direction which is checked is\nan unconscious and wholesome one, that which is taken will be likely to\nbe morbid and perverse. The one who is conscious of continually denying\nhimself cannot rid himself of the idea that it ought to be \"made up\" to\nhim; that a compensating happiness is due him for what he has\nsacrificed, somewhat increased, if anything, on account of the unnatural\nvirtue he has displayed.[170] To be self-sacrificing is to \"lay up\"\nmerit, and this achievement must surely be rewarded with happiness--if\nnot now, then later. Those who habitually live on the basis of conscious\nself-denial are likely to be exorbitant in the demands which they make\non some one near them, some member of their family or some friend;\nlikely to blame others if their own \"virtue\" does not secure for itself\nan exacting attention which reduces others to the plane of servility.\nOften the doctrine of self-sacrifice leads to an inverted hedonism: we\nare to be good--that is, to forego pleasure--now, that we may have a\ngreater measure of enjoyment in some future paradise of bliss. Or, the\nindividual who has taken vows of renunciation is entitled by that very\nfact to represent spiritual authority on earth and to lord it over\nothers.\n\n\nSec. 2. SELF-ASSERTION\n\nThe idea that morality consists in an unbridled assertion of self, in\nits forceful aggressive manifestation, rarely receives consistent\ntheoretical formulation--possibly because most men are so ready to act\nupon it practically that explicit acknowledgment would be a hindrance\nrather than a help to the idea. But it is a doctrine which tends to be\ninvoked more or less explicitly as a reaction from the impotency of the\nself-denial dogma. In reference to some superior individual or class,\nsome leader or group of aristocratically ordained leaders, it is always\na more or less conscious principle. Concerning these it is held that\nordinary morality holds eventually only for the \"common herd,\" the\nactivities of the leader being amenable to a higher law than that of\ncommon morality.[171] Moreover, since the self-sacrifice morality is\nalmost never carried out consistently--that is, to the point of monastic\nasceticism,--much popular morality is an unbalanced combination of\nself-sacrifice in some regards and ruthless self-assertion in others. It\nis not \"practicable\" to carry out the principle of self-denial\neverywhere; it is reserved for the family life, for special religious\nduties; in business (which is business, not morals), the proper thing is\naggressive and unremitting self-assertion. In business, the end is\nsuccess, to \"make good\"; weakness is failure, and failure is disgrace,\ndishonor. Thus in practice the two conceptions of self-denial in one\nregion and self-assertion in another mutually support each other. They\ngive occasion for the more or less unformulated, yet prevalent, idea\nthat moral considerations (those of self-denial) apply to a limited\nphase of life, but have nothing to do with other regions in which\naccordingly the principle of \"efficiency\" (that is, personal success,\nwealth, power obtained in competitive victory) holds supreme sway.\n\nRecently, however, there has sprung up a so-called \"naturalistic\" school\nof ethics which has formulated explicitly the principle of\nself-assertion, and which claims to find scientific sanction for it in\nthe evolutionary doctrine of Darwin. Evolution, it says, is the great\nthing, and evolution means the _survival of the fit in the struggle for\nexistence_. Nature's method of progress is precisely, so it is said,\nruthless self-assertion--to the strong the victory, to the victorious\nthe spoils, and to the defeated, woe. Nature affords a scene of egoistic\nendeavor or pressure, suffer who may, of struggle to get ahead, that is,\nahead of others, even by thrusting them down and out. But the\njustification of this scene of rapine and slaughter is that out of it\ncomes progress, advance, everything that we regard as noble and fair.\nExcellence is the sign of excelling; the goal means outrunning others.\nThe morals of humility, of obedience to law, of pity, sympathy, are\nmerely a self-protective device on the part of the weak who try to\nsafeguard their weakness by setting fast limitations to the activities\nof the truly strong (compare what was said of the not dissimilar\ndoctrine among the Greeks, pp. 120-22). But the truly moral man, in whom\nthe principle of progress is embodied, will break regardlessly through\nthese meshes and traps. He will carry his own plans through to\nvictorious achievement. He is the super-man. The mass of men are simply\nfood for his schemes, valuable as furnishing needed material and\ntools.[172]\n\n=Practical Vogue of the Underlying Idea.=--Such a theory, in and of\nitself, is a literary diversion for those who, not being competent in\nthe fields of outer achievement, amuse themselves by idealizing it in\nwriting. Like most literary versions of science, it rests upon a\npseudo-science, a parody of the real facts. But at a time when economic\nconditions are putting an extraordinary emphasis upon outward\nachievement, upon success in manipulating natural and social resources,\nupon \"efficiency\" in exploiting both inanimate energies and the minds\nand bodies of other persons, the underlying principle of this theory has\na sanction and vogue which is out of all proportion to the number of\nthose who consciously entertain it as a theory. For a healthy mind, the\nfrank statement and facing of the theory is its best criticism. Its bald\nbrutalism flourishes freely only when covered and disguised. But in view\nof the forces at present, and especially in America, making for a more\nor less unconscious acceptance of its principle in practice, it may be\nadvisable to say something (1) regarding its alleged scientific\nfoundation, and (2) the inadequacy of its conception of efficiency.\n\n=1. The Theory Exaggerates the Role of Antagonistic Competitive Struggle\nin the Darwinian Theory.=--(a) The initial step in any \"progress\" is\n_variation_; this is not so much struggle _against_ other organisms, as\nit is _invention_ or discovery of some _new_ way of acting, involving\nbetter adaptation of hitherto merely latent natural resources, use of\nsome possible food or shelter not previously utilized. The struggle\nagainst other organisms at work preserves from elimination a species\nalready fixed--quite a different thing from the variation which\noccasions the introduction of a higher or more complex species. (b)\nMoreover, so far as the Darwinian theory is concerned, the \"struggle for\nexistence\" may take any conceivable form; rivalry in generosity, in\nmutual aid and support, may be the kind of competition best fitted to\nenable a species to survive. It not only may be so, but it is so within\ncertain limits. The rage for survival, for power, must not be asserted\nindiscriminately; the mate of the other sex, the young, to some extent\nother individuals of the same kin, are spared, or, in many cases,\nprotected and nourished.[173] (c) The higher the form of life, the\n_more_ effective the two methods just suggested: namely, the method of\nintelligence in discovering and utilizing new methods, tools, and\nresources as substituted for the direct method of brute conflict; and\nthe method of mutual protection and care substituted for mutual attack\nand combat. It is among the lower forms of life, not as the theory would\nrequire among the higher types, that conditions approximate its picture\nof the gladiatorial show. The higher species among the vertebrates, as\namong insects (like ants and bees), are the \"sociable\" kinds. It is\nsometimes argued that Darwinism carried into morals would abolish\ncharity: all care of the hopelessly invalid, of the economically\ndependent, and in general of all the weak and helpless except healthy\ninfants. It is argued that our current standards are sentimental and\nartificial, aiming to make survive those who are unfit, and thus tending\nto destroy the conditions that make for advance, and to introduce such\nas make towards degeneration. But this argument (1) wholly ignores the\nreflex effect of interest in those who are ill and defective in\nstrengthening social solidarity--in promoting those ties and reciprocal\ninterests which are as much the prerequisites of strong individual\ncharacters as they are of a strong social group. And (2) it fails to\ntake into account the stimulus to foresight, to scientific discovery,\nand practical invention, which has proceeded from interest in the\nhelpless, the weak, the sick, the disabled, blind, deaf, and insane.\nTaking the most coldly scientific view, the gains in these two respects\nhave, through the growth of social pity, of care for the unfortunate,\nbeen purchased more cheaply than we can imagine their being bought in\nany other way. In other words, the chief objection to this\n\"naturalistic\" ethics is that it overlooks the fact that, even from the\nDarwinian point of view, the human _animal_ is a _human_ animal. It\nforgets that the sympathetic and social instincts, those which cause the\nindividual to take the interests of others for his own and thereby to\nrestrain his sheer brute self-assertiveness, are the highest\nachievements, the high-water mark of evolution. The theory urges a\nsystematic relapse to lower and foregone stages of biological\ndevelopment.\n\n=2. Its Conception of \"Power,\" \"Efficiency,\" \"Achievement\" is\nPerverse.=--Compared with the gospel of abstinence, of inefficiency,\npreached by the self-denial school, there is an element of healthy\nreaction in any ethical system which stresses positive power, positive\nsuccess, positive attainment. Goodness has been too much identified with\npractical feebleness and ineptitude; strength and solidity of\naccomplishment, with unscrupulousness. But power for the sake of power\nis as unreal an abstraction as self-denial for the sake of sacrifice, or\nself-restraint for the sake of the mere restraint. Erected into a\ncentral principle, it takes means for end--the fallacy of all\nmaterialism. It makes little of many of the most important and excellent\n_inherent ingredients_ of happiness in its eagerness to master _external\nconditions_ of happiness. Sensitive discrimination of complex and\nrefined distinctions of worth, such as good taste, the resources of\npoetry and history, frank and varied social converse among intellectual\nequals, the humor of sympathetic contemplation of the spectacle of life,\nthe capacity to extract happiness from solitude and society, from nature\nand from art:--all of these, as well as the more obvious virtues of\nsympathy and benevolence, are swept aside for one coarse\nundiscriminating ideal of external activity, measured by sheer quantity\nof external changes made and external results accumulated. Of such an\nideal we may say, as Mill said, that the judge of good, of happiness, is\nthe one who has experienced its various forms; and that as \"no\nintelligent person would consent to be a fool\" on account of the\npleasures of the fool, so no man of cultivated spirit would consent to\nbe a lover of \"efficiency\" and \"power\" for the sake of brute command of\nthe external commodities of nature and man.\n\n=Present Currency of This Ideal.=--In spite of the extraordinary\ncurrency of this ideal at present, there is little fear that it will be\npermanently established. Human nature is too rich and varied in its\ncapacities and demands; the world of nature and society is too fruitful\nin sources of stimulus and interest for man to remain indefinitely\ncontent with the idea of power for power's sake, command of means for\nthe mere sake of the means. Humanity has long lived a precarious and a\nstunted life because of its partial and easily shaken hold on natural\nresources. Starved by centuries of abstinence enforced through lack of\ncontrol of the forces and methods of nature, taught the gospel of the\nmerit of abstention, it is not surprising that it should be intoxicated\nwhen scientific discovery bears its fruit of power in utilization of\nnatural forces, or that, temporarily unbalanced, it should take the\nexternal conditions of happiness for happiness itself. But when the\nvalues of material acquisition and achievement become familiar they will\nlose the contrast value they now possess; and human endeavor will\nconcern itself mainly with the problem of rendering its conquests in\npower and efficiency tributary to the life of intelligence and art and\nof social communication.[174] Such a moral idealism will rest upon a\nmore secure and extensive natural foundation than that of the past, and\nwill be more equitable in application and saner in content than that\nwith which aristocracies have made us familiar. It will be a democratic\nideal, a good for all, not for a noble class; and it will include, not\nexclude, those physical and physiological factors which aristocratic\nidealisms have excluded as common and unclean.\n\n\nSec. 3. SELF-LOVE AND BENEVOLENCE; OR, EGOISM AND ALTRUISM\n\nFor the last three centuries, the most discussed point in English\nethical literature (save perhaps whether moral knowledge is intuitive or\nderived from experience) has been the relation of regard for one's own\nself and for other selves as motives of action--\"the crux of all ethical\nspeculation,\" Spencer terms it. All views have been represented: (a)\nthat man naturally acts from purely selfish motives and that morality\nconsists in an enforced subjection of self-love to the laws of a common\nsocial order, (b) That man is naturally selfish, while morality is an\n\"enlightened selfishness,\" or a regard for self based upon recognition\nof the extent to which its happiness requires consideration of others.\n(c) That the tendencies of the agent are naturally selfish, but that\nmorality is the subjection of these tendencies to the law of duty.\n(d) That man's interests are naturally partly egoistic and partly\nsympathetic, while morality is a compromise or adjustment of these\ntendencies. (e) That man's interests are naturally both, and morality a\nsubjection of both to conscience as umpire. (f) That they are both,\nwhile morality is a subjection of egoistic to benevolent sentiments.\n(g) That the individual's interests are naturally in objective ends\nwhich primarily are neither egoistic nor altruistic; and these ends\nbecome either selfish or benevolent at special crises, at which times\nmorality consists in referring them, equally and impartially for\njudgment, to a situation in which the interests of the self and of\nothers concerned are involved: _to a common good_.\n\n=Three Underlying Psychological Principles.=--We shall make no attempt\nto discuss these various views in detail; but will bring into relief\nsome of the factors in the discussion which substantiate the view (g)\nstated last. It will be noted that the theories rank themselves under\nthree heads with reference to the constitution of man's tendencies:\nholding they (1) naturally have in view personal ends exclusively or all\nfall under the principle of self-love or self-regard; that (2) some of\nthem contemplate one's own happiness and some of them that of others;\nthat (3) primarily they are not _consciously_ concerned with either\none's own happiness or that of others. Memory and reflection may show\n(just as it shows other things) that their consequences affect both the\nself and others, when the recognition of this fact becomes an additional\nelement, either for good or for evil, in the motivation of the act. We\nshall consider, first, the various senses in which action occurs, or is\nsaid to occur, in behalf of the person's own self; and then take up, in\nsimilar fashion, its reference to the interests of others.\n\n=I. Action in Behalf of Self.=--1. _Motives as Selfish_: The Natural\nSelfishness of Man is maintained from such different standpoints and\nwith such different objects in view that it is difficult to state the\ndoctrine in any one generalized form. By some theologians, it has been\nassociated with an innate corruption or depravity of human nature and\nbeen made the basis of a demand for supernatural assistance to lead a\ntruly just and benevolent life. By Hobbes (1588-1679) it was associated\nwith the anti-social nature of individuals and made the basis for a plea\nfor a strong and centralized political authority[175] to control the\nnatural \"war of all against all\" which flows inevitably from the\npsychological egoism. By Kant, it was connected with the purely sense\norigin of desires, and made the basis for a demand for the complete\nsubordination of desire to duty as a motive for action. Morals, like\npolitics, make strange bedfellows! The common factor in these diverse\nnotions, however, is that every act of a self must, when left to its\n_natural_ or psychological course, have the interest of the self in\nview; otherwise there would be no motive for the deed and it would not\nbe done. This theoretical and _a priori_ view is further supported by\npointing out, sometimes in reprobation of man's sinful nature, sometimes\nin a more or less cynical vein, the lurking presence of some subtle\nregard for self in acts that apparently are most generous and\n\"disinterested.\"[176]\n\n=Ambiguity of the Psychological Basis.=--The notion that all action is\n\"for the self\" is infected with the same ambiguity as the (analogous)\ndoctrine that all desire is for happiness. Like that doctrine, in one\nsense it is a truism, in another a falsity--this latter being the sense\nin which its upholders maintain it. Psychologically, any object that\nmoves us, any object in which we imagine our impulses to rest satisfied\nor to find fulfillment, _becomes_, in virtue of that fact, a factor in\nthe self. If I am enough interested in collecting postage stamps, a\ncollection of postage stamps becomes a part of my \"ego,\" which is\nincomplete and restless till filled out in that way. If my habits are\nsuch that I am not content when I know my neighbor is suffering from a\nlack of food until I have relieved him, then relief of his suffering\nbecomes a part of my selfhood. If my desires are such that I have no\nrest of mind until I have beaten my competitor in business, or have\ndemonstrated my superiority in social gifts by putting my fellow at some\nembarrassing disadvantage, then that sort of thing constitutes my self.\nOur instincts, impulses, and habits all demand appropriate objects in\norder to secure exercise and expression; and these ends in their office\nof furnishing outlet and satisfaction to our powers form a cherished\npart of the \"me.\" In this sense it is true, and a truism, that all\naction involves the interest of self.\n\n=True and False Interpretation.=--But this doctrine is the exact\nopposite of that intended by those who claim that all action is from\nself-love. The true doctrine says, _the self is constituted and\ndeveloped through instincts and interests which are directed upon their\nown objects with no conscious regard necessarily for anything except\nthose objects themselves_. The false doctrine implies that the self\n_exists by itself apart from these objective ends, and that they are\nmerely means for securing it a certain profit or pleasure_.\n\nSuppose, for example, it is a case of being so disturbed in mind by the\nthought of another in pain that one is moved to do something to relieve\nhim. This means that certain native instincts or certain acquired habits\ndemand relief of others as part of themselves. The well-being of the\nother is an interest of the self: is a part of the self. This is\nprecisely what is meant ordinarily by unselfishness: not lack or absence\nof a self, but _such_ a self as identifies itself in action with others'\ninterests and hence is satisfied only when they are satisfied. To find\npain in the thought of others pained and to take pleasure in the thought\nof their relief, is to have and to be moved by personal motives, by\nstates which are \"selfish\" in the sense of making up the self; but which\nare the exact opposite of selfish in the sense of being the thought of\nsome private advantage to self.[177] Putting it roundly, then, the\nfallacy of the selfish motive theory is that it fails to see that\n_instincts and habits directed upon objects are primary_, and that they\ncome before any conscious thought of self as end, since they are\nnecessary to the constitution of that thought.\n\nThe following quotation from James[178] states the true doctrine:\n\n    \"When I am led by selflove to keep my seat whilst ladies stand, or\n    to grab something first and cut out my neighbor, what I really\n    love is the comfortable seat; it is the thing itself which I grab.\n    I love _them_ primarily, as the mother loves her babe, or a\n    generous man an heroic deed. Wherever, as here, selfseeking is the\n    outcome of simple instinctive propensity, it is but a name for\n    certain reflex acts. Something rivets my attention fatally and\n    fatally provokes the 'selfish' response.... It is true I am no\n    automaton, but a thinker. But my thoughts, like my acts, are here\n    concerned only with the outward things.... In fact the more\n    utterly selfish I am in this primitive way, the more blindly\n    absorbed my thought will be in the objects and impulses of my lust\n    and the more devoid of any inward looking glance.\"\n\n=2. Results as Selfish: Ambiguity in the Notion.=--We must then give up\nthe notion that motives are inherently self-seeking, in the sense that\nthere is in voluntary acts a thought of the self as the end for the sake\nof which the act is performed. The self-seeking doctrine may, however,\nbe restated in these terms: Although there is no thought of self or its\nadvantage consciously entertained, yet our original instincts are such\nthat their objects do as _matter of result_ conduce primarily to the\nwell-being and advantage of the self. In this sense, anger, fear,\nhunger, and thirst, etc., are said to be egoistic or self-seeking--not\nthat their _conscious_ object is the self, but that their inevitable\neffect is to preserve and protect the self. The fact that an instinct\nsecures self-preservation or self-development does not, however, make it\n\"egoistic\" or \"selfish\" in the moral sense; nor does it throw any light\nupon the moral status of the instinct. _Everything depends upon the sort\nof self which is maintained._ There is, indeed, some presumption (see\n_ante_, p. 294) that the act sustains a _social_ self, that is, a self\nwhose maintenance is of social value. If the individual organism did not\nstruggle for food; strive aggressively against obstacles and\ninterferences; evade or shelter itself against menacing superior force,\nwhat would become of children, fathers and mothers, lawyers, doctors and\nclergymen, citizens and patriots--in short, of society? If we avoid\nsetting up a purely abstract self, if we keep in mind that every actual\nself is a self which _includes_ social relations and offices, both\nactual and potential, we shall have no difficulty in seeing that\nself-preservative instincts _may_ be, and taken by and large, _must_ be,\nsocially conservative. Moreover, while it is not true that if \"a man\ndoes not look after his own interests no one else will\" (if that means\nthat his interests are no one else's affair in any way), it is true that\nno one has a right to neglect his own interests in the hope that some\none else will care for them. \"His own interests,\" properly speaking, are\nprecisely the ends which concern him more directly than they concern any\none else. Each man is, so to say, nearer himself than is any one else,\nand, therefore, has certain duties to and about himself which cannot be\nperformed by any other one. Others may present food or the conditions of\neducation, but the individual alone can digest the food or educate\nhimself. It is profitable for society, not merely for an individual,\nthat each of us should instinctively have his powers most actively and\nintensely called out by the things that distinctively affect him and\nhis own welfare. Any other arrangement would mean waste of social\nenergy, inefficiency in securing social results.\n\nThe quotation from James also makes it clear, however, that under\ncertain circumstances the mere absorption in a thing, even without\nconscious thought of self, is morally offensive. The \"pig\" in manners is\nnot necessarily thinking of himself; all that is required to make him a\npig is that he should have too narrow and exclusive an object of regard.\nThe man sees simply the seat, not the seat _and_ the lady. The boor in\nmanners is unconscious of many of the objects in the situation which\n_should_ operate as stimuli. One impulse or habit is operating at the\nexpense of others; the self in play is too petty or narrow. Viewed from\nthe standpoint of results, the fact which constitutes selfishness in the\nmoral sense is not that certain impulses and habits secure the\nwell-being of the self, _but that the well-being secured is a narrow and\nexclusive one_. The forms of coarse egoism which offend us most in\nordinary life are not usually due to a deliberate or self-conscious\nseeking of advantage for self, but to such preoccupation with certain\nends as blinds the agent to the thought of the interests of others. Many\nwhose behavior seems to others most selfish would deny indignantly (and,\nfrom the standpoint of their _definite_ consciousness, honestly) any\nself-seeking motives: they would point to certain objective results,\nwhich in the abstract are desirable, as the true ends of their\nactivities. But none the less, they _are_ selfish, because the\nlimitations of their interests make them overlook the consequences which\naffect the freedom and happiness of others.\n\n=3. There are also Cases in Which the Thought of the Resulting\nConsequence to the Self Consciously Enters in and Modifies the Motive of\nthe Act.=--With increasing memory and foresight, one can no more ignore\nthe lesson of the past as to the consequences of an act upon himself\nthan he can ignore other consequences. A man who has learned that a\ncertain act has painful consequences to himself, whether to his body,\nhis reputation, his comfort, or his character, is quite likely to have\nthe thought of himself present itself as part of the foreseen\nconsequences when the question of a similar act recurs. In and of\nitself, once more, this fact throws no light upon the moral status of\nthe act. Everything depends upon what sort of a self moves and how it\nmoves. A man who hesitated to rush into a burning building to rescue a\nsuit of clothes because he thought of the danger to himself, would be\nsensible; a man who rushed out of the building just because he thought\nof saving himself when there were others he might have assisted, would\nbe contemptible.\n\nThe one who began taking exercise because he thought of his own health,\nwould be commended; but a man who thought so continually of his own\nhealth as to shut out other objects, would become an object of ridicule\nor worse. _There is a moral presumption that a man should make\nconsideration of himself a part of his aim and intent._ A certain care\nof health, of body, of property, of mental faculty, because they are\none's own is not only permissible, but obligatory. This is what the\nolder moral writers spoke of as \"prudence,\" or as \"reasonable\nself-love.\"\n\n(i.) It is a stock argument of the universal selfishness theory to point\nout that a man's acknowledgment of some _public need or benefit_ is\nquite likely to coincide with his recognition of some private advantage.\nA statesman's recognition of some measure of public policy happens to\ncoincide with perceiving that by pressing it he can bring himself into\nprominence or gain office. A man is more likely to see the need of\nimproved conditions of sanitation or transportation in a given locality\nif he has property there. A man's indignation at some prevalent public\nill may sleep till he has had a private taste of it. We may admit that\nthese instances describe a usual, though not universal, state of\naffairs. But does it follow that such men are moved _merely_ by the\nthought of gain to themselves? Possibly this sometimes happens; then the\nact is selfish in the obnoxious sense. The man has isolated his thought\nof himself as an end and made the thought of the improvement or reform\nmerely an external means. The latter is not truly his _end_ at all; he\nhas not identified it with himself. In other cases, while the individual\nwould not have recognized the end if the thought of himself had not been\nimplicated, yet _after_ he has recognized it, the two--the thought of\nhimself and of the public advantage--may blend. His thought of himself\nmay lend warmth and intimacy to an object which otherwise would have\nbeen cold, _while, at the same time, the self is broadened and deepened\nby taking in the new object of regard_.\n\n(ii.) Take the case of amusement or recreation. To an adult usually\nengaged in strenuous pursuits, the thought of a pleasure for the mere\nsake of pleasure, of enjoyment, of having a \"good time,\" may appeal as\nan end. And if the pleasure is itself \"innocent,\" only the requirements\nof a preconceived theory (like the Kantian) would question its\nlegitimacy. Even its moral necessity is clear when relaxation is\nconducive to cheerfulness and efficiency in more serious pursuits. But\nif a man discriminates mentally between himself and the play or exercise\nin which he finds enjoyment and relief, thinking of himself as a\ndistinct end to which the latter is merely means, he is not likely to\nget the recreation. It is by forgetting the self, that is by taking the\nlight and easy activity _as_ the self of the situation, that the benefit\ncomes. To be a \"lover of pleasure\" in the bad sense is precisely to seek\namusements as excitements for a self which somehow remains outside them\nas their fixed and ulterior end.\n\n(iii.) Exactly the same analysis applies to the idea of the moral\nculture of the self, of its moral perfecting. Every serious-minded\nperson has, from time to time, to take stock of his status and progress\nin moral matters--to take thought of the moral self just as at other\ntimes he takes thought of the health of the bodily self. But woe betides\nthat man who, having entered upon a course of reflection which leads to\na clearer conception of his own moral capacities and weaknesses,\nmaintains that thought as a distinct mental end, and thereby makes his\nsubsequent acts simply means to improving or perfecting his moral\nnature. Such a course defeats itself. At the least, it leads to\npriggishness, and its tendency is towards one of the worst forms of\nselfishness: a habit of thinking and feeling that persons, that concrete\nsituations and relations, exist simply to render contributions to one's\nown precious moral character. The worst of such selfishness is that\nhaving protected itself with the mantle of interest in moral goodness,\nit is proof against that attrition of experience which may always recall\na man to himself in the case of grosser and more unconscious absorption.\nA sentimentally refined egoism is always more hopeless than a brutal and\nnaive one--though a brutal one not infrequently protects itself by\nadoption and proclamation of the language of the former.\n\n=II. Benevolence or Regard for Others.=--_Ambiguity in Conception_:\nThere is the same ambiguity in the idea of sympathetic or altruistic\nsprings to action that there is in that of egoistic and self-regarding.\nDoes the phrase refer to their conscious and express intent? or to their\nobjective results when put into operation, irrespective of explicit\ndesire and aim? And, if the latter, are we to believe contribution to\nthe welfare of others to be the sole and exclusive character of some\nsprings of action, or simply that, under certain circumstances, the\n_emphasis_ falls more upon the good resulting to others than upon other\nconsequences? The discussion will show that the same general principles\nhold for \"benevolent\" as for self-regarding impulses: namely (1) that\nthere are none which from the start are consciously such; (2) that while\nreflection may bring to light their bearing upon the welfare of others\nso that it becomes an element in the conscious desire, this is a matter\nof relative preponderance, not of absolute nature; and (3) that just as\nconscious regard for self is not necessarily bad or \"selfish,\" so\nconscious regard for others is not necessarily good: the criterion is\nthe whole situation in which the desire takes effect.\n\n=1. The Existence of Other-Regarding Springs to Action.=--Only the\npreconceptions of hedonistic psychology would ever lead one to deny the\nexistence of reactions and impulses called out by the sight of others'\nmisery and joy and which tend to increase the latter and to relieve the\nformer. Recent psychologists (writing, of course, quite independently of\nethical controversies) offer lists of native instinctive tendencies such\nas the following: Anger, jealousy, rivalry, secretiveness,\nacquisitiveness, fear, shyness, sympathy, affection, pity, sexual love,\ncuriosity, imitation, play, constructiveness.[179] In this inventory,\nthe first seven may be said to be aroused specially by situations having\nto do with the preservation of the self; the next four are responses to\nstimuli proceeding especially from others and tending to consequences\nfavorable to them, while the last four are mainly impersonal. But the\ndivision into self-regarding and other-regarding is not exclusive and\nabsolute. Anger _may_ be wholly other-regarding, as in the case of\nhearty indignation at wrongs suffered by others; rivalry may be generous\nemulation or be directed toward surpassing one's own past record. Love\nbetween the sexes, which should be the source of steady, far-reaching\ninterest in others, and which at times expresses itself in supreme\nabnegation of devotion, easily becomes the cause of brutal and\npersistent egoism. In short, the division into egoistic and altruistic\nholds only \"other things being equal.\"\n\nConfining ourselves for the moment to the native psychological\nequipment, we may say that man is endowed with instinctive promptings\nwhich naturally (that is, without the intervention of deliberation or\ncalculation) tend to preserve the self (by aggressive attack as in\nanger, or in protective retreat as in fear); and to develop his powers\n(as in acquisitiveness, constructiveness, and play); and which equally,\nwithout consideration of resulting ulterior benefit either to self or to\nothers, tend to bind the self closer to others and to advance the\ninterests of others--as pity, affectionateness, or again,\nconstructiveness and play. Any given individual is _naturally_ an\nerratic mixture of fierce insistence upon his own welfare and of\nprofound susceptibility to the happiness of others--different\nindividuals varying much in the respective intensities and proportions\nof the two tendencies.\n\n=2. The Moral Status of Altruistic Tendencies.=--We have expressly\ndevoted considerable space (ch. xiii.) to showing that there are no\nmotives which in and of themselves are right; that any tendency, whether\noriginal instinct or acquired habit, requires sanction from the special\nconsequences which, in the special situation, are likely to flow from\nit. The mere fact that pity in general tends to conserve the welfare of\nothers does not guarantee the rightness of giving way to an impulse of\npity, just as it happens to spring up. This might mean sentimentalism\nfor the agent, and weakening of the springs of patience, courage,\nself-help, and self-respect in others. The persistence with which the\ndoctrine of the evils of indiscriminate charity has to be taught is\nsufficient evidence that the so-called other-regarding impulses require\nthe same control by reason as do the \"egoistic\" ones. They have no\ninherent sacredness which exempts them from the application of the\nstandard of the common and reasonable happiness.\n\n=Evils of Unregulated Altruism.=--So much follows from the general\nprinciples already discussed. But there are special dangers and evils\nattendant upon an exaggeration of the altruistic idea. (i.) _It tends to\nrender others dependent_, and thus contradicts its own professed aim:\nthe helping of others. Almost every one knows some child who is so\ncontinuously \"helped\" by others, that he loses his initiative and\nresourcefulness. Many an invalid is confirmed in a state of helplessness\nby the devoted attention of others. In large social matters there is\nalways danger of the substitution of an ideal of conscious \"benevolence\"\nfor justice: it is in aristocratic and feudal periods that the idea\nflourishes that \"charity\" (conceived as conferring benefits _upon_\nothers, doing things _for_ them) is inherently and absolutely a good.\nThe idea assumes the continued and necessary existence of a dependent\n\"lower\" class to be the recipients of the kindness of their superiors; a\nclass which serves as passive material for the cultivation in others of\nthe virtue of charity, the higher class \"acquiring merit\" at expense of\nthe lower, while the lower has gratitude and respect for authority as\nits chief virtues.\n\n(ii.) _The erection of the \"benevolent\" impulse into a virtue in and of\nitself tends to build up egoism in others._ The child who finds himself\nunremittingly the object of attention from others is likely to develop\nan exaggerated sense of the relative importance of his own _ego_. The\nchronic invalid, conspicuously the recipient of the conscious altruism\nof others, is happy in nature who avoids the slow growth of an insidious\negoism. Men who are the constant subjects of abnegation on the part of\ntheir wives and female relatives rarely fail to develop a self-absorbed\ncomplacency and unconscious conceit.\n\n(iii.) Undue emphasis upon altruism as a motive is quite likely to react\nto form a _peculiarly subtle egoism in the person who cultivates it_.\nOthers cease to be _natural_ objects of interest and regard, and are\nconverted into excuses for the manifestation and nurture of one's own\ngenerous goodness. Underlying complacency with respect to social ills\ngrows up because they afford an opportunity for developing and\ndisplaying this finest of virtues. In our interest in the maintenance of\nour own benign altruism we cease to be properly disturbed by conditions\nwhich are intrinsically unjust and hateful.[180] (iv.) As present\ncircumstances amply demonstrate, there is the danger that the erection\nof benevolence into a conscious principle in some things will serve to\nsupply rich persons with a cloak for selfishness in other directions.\nPhilanthropy is made an offset and compensation for brutal exploitation.\nA man who pushes to the breaking-point of legality aggressively selfish\nefforts to get ahead of others in business, squares it in his own\nself-respect and in the esteem of those classes of the community who\nentertain like conceptions, by gifts of hospitals, colleges, missions,\nand libraries.\n\n=Genuine and False Altruism.=--These considerations may be met by the\nobvious retort that it is not true altruism, genuine benevolence,\nsincere charity, which we are concerned with in such cases. This is a\ntrue remark. We are not of course criticizing true but spurious interest\nin others. But why is it counterfeit? What is the nature of the genuine\narticle? The danger is not in benevolence or altruism, but in that\nconception of them which makes them equivalent to regard for others _as\nothers_, irrespective of a social situation to which all alike belong.\nThere is nothing in the selfhood of others, because they are others,\nwhich gives it any supremacy over selfhood in oneself. Just as it is\nexclusiveness of objective ends, the ignoring of relations, which is\nobjectionable in selfishness, so it is taking the part for the whole\nwhich is obnoxious in so-called altruism. To include in our view of\nconsequences the needs and possibilities of others on the same basis as\nour own, is to take the only course which will give an adequate view of\nthe situation. There is no situation into which these factors do not\nenter. To have a generous view of others is to have a larger world in\nwhich to act. To remember that they, like ourselves, are persons, are\nindividuals who are centers of joy and suffering, of lack and of\npotentiality, is alone to have a just view of the conditions and issues\nof behavior. Quickened sympathy means liberality of intelligence and\nenlightened understanding.\n\n=The Social Sense versus Altruism.=--There is a great difference in\nprinciple between modern philanthropy and the \"charity\" which assumes a\nsuperior and an inferior class. The latter principle tries to acquire\nmerit by employing one's superior resources to lessen, or to mitigate,\nthe misery of those who are fixed in a dependent status. Its principle,\nso far as others are concerned, is negative and palliative merely. The\nmotive of what is vital in modern philanthropy is constructive and\nexpansive because it looks to the well-being of society as a whole, not\nto soothing or rendering more tolerable the conditions of a class. It\nrealizes the interdependence of interests: that complex and variegated\ninteraction of conditions which makes it impossible for any one\nindividual or \"class\" really to secure, to assure, its own good as a\nseparate thing. Its aim is general social advance, constructive social\nreform, not merely doing something kind for individuals who are rendered\nhelpless from sickness or poverty. Its aim is the equity of justice, not\nthe inequality of conferring benefits. That the sight of the misery that\ncomes from sickness, from insanity, from defective organic structure (as\namong the blind and deaf), from poverty that destroys hope and dulls\ninitiative, from bad nutrition, should stimulate this general\nquickening of the social sense is natural. But just as the activities of\nthe parent with reference to the welfare of a helpless infant are wisely\ndirected in the degree in which attention is mainly fixed not upon\nweakness, but upon positive opportunities for growth, so the efforts of\nthose whose activities, by the nature of circumstances, have to be\nespecially remedial and palliative are most effective when centered on\nthe social rights and possibilities of the unfortunate individuals,\ninstead of treating them as separate individuals to whom, in their\nseparateness, \"good is to be done.\"\n\nThe best kind of help to others, whenever possible, is indirect, and\nconsists in such modifications of the conditions of life, of the general\nlevel of subsistence, as enables them independently to help\nthemselves.[181] Whenever conditions require purely direct and personal\naid, it is best given when it proceeds from a natural social\nrelationship, and not from a motive of \"benevolence\" as a separate\nforce.[182] The gift that pauperizes when proceeding from a\nphilanthropist in his special capacity, is a beneficent acknowledgment\nof the relationships of the case when it comes from a neighbor or from\none who has other interests in common with the one assisted.\n\n=The Private and the Social Self.=--The contrast between the narrow or\nrestrictive and the general or expansive good explains why evil presents\nitself as a selfish end in contrast with an authoritative, but faint,\ngood of others. This is not, as we have seen, because regard for the\ngood of self is inherently bad and regard for that of others\nintrinsically right; but because we are apt to identify the self with\nthe habitual, with that to which we are best adjusted and which\nrepresents the customary occupation. Any moral crisis is thus fairly\npictured as a struggle to overcome selfishness. The tendency under such\ncircumstances is to contract, to secrete, to hang on to what is already\nachieved and possessed. The habitual self needs to go out of the\nnarrowness of its accustomed grooves into the spacious air of more\ngenerous behavior.\n\n\nSec. 4. THE GOOD AS SELF-REALIZATION\n\nWe now come to the theory which attempts to do justice to the one-sided\ntruths we have been engaged with, _viz._, the idea that the moral end is\n_self-realization_. Like self-assertion in some respects, it differs in\nconceiving the self to be realized as universal and ultimate, involving\nthe fulfillment of _all_ capacities and the observance of _all_\nrelations. Such a comprehensive self-realization includes also, it is\nurged, the truth of altruism, since the \"universal self\" is realized\nonly when the relations that bind one to others are fulfilled. It avoids\nalso the inconsistencies and defects of the notion of self-sacrifice for\nits own sake, while emphasizing that the present incomplete self must be\ndenied for the sake of attainment of a more complete and final self. A\ndiscussion of this theory accordingly furnishes the means of gathering\ntogether and summarizing various points regarding the role of the self\nin the moral life.\n\n=Ambiguity in the Conception.=--Is self-realization the end? As we have\nhad such frequent occasion to observe, \"end\" means either the\nconsequences actually effected, the closing and completing phase of an\nact, or the aim held deliberately in view. Now realization of self is an\nend (though not the only end) in the former sense. Every moral act in\nits outcome marks a development or fulfillment of selfhood. But the very\nnature of right action forbids that the self should be the end in the\nsense of being the conscious aim of moral activity. For there is no way\nof discovering the nature of the self except in terms of objective ends\nwhich fulfill its capacities, and there is no _way_ of realizing the\nself except as it is forgotten in devotion to these objective ends.\n\n=1. Self-Realization as Consequence of Moral Action.=--Every good act\nrealizes the selfhood of the agent who performs it; every bad act tends\nto the lowering or destruction of selfhood. This truth is expressed in\nKant's maxim that every personality should be regarded as always an end,\nnever as a means, with its implication that a wrong intent always\nreduces selfhood to the status of a mere tool or device for securing\nsome end beyond itself--the self-indulgent man treating his personal\npowers as mere means to securing ease, comfort, or pleasure. It is\nexpressed by ordinary moral judgment in its view that all immoral action\nis a sort of prostitution, a lowering of the dignity of the self to base\nends. The destructive tendency of evil deeds is witnessed also by our\ncommon language in its conception of wrong as dissipation,\ndissoluteness, duplicity. The bad character is one which is shaky,\nempty, \"naughty,\" unstable, gone to pieces, just as the good man is\nstraight, solid, four-square, sound, substantial. This conviction that\nat bottom and in the end, in spite of all temporary appearance to the\ncontrary, the right act effects a realization of the self, is also\nevidenced in the common belief that virtue brings its own bliss. No\nmatter how much suffering from physical loss or from material and mental\ninconvenience or loss of social repute virtue may bring with it, the\n_quality of happiness_ that accompanies devotion to the right end is so\nunique, so _invaluable_, that pains and discomforts do not weigh in the\nbalance. It is indeed possible to state this truth in such an\nexaggerated perspective that it becomes false; but taken just for what\nit is, it acknowledges that whatever harm or loss a right act may bring\nto the self in some of its aspects,--even extending to destruction of\nthe bodily self,--the inmost moral self finds fulfillment and\nconsequent happiness in the good.\n\n=2. Self-Realization as Aim of Moral Action.=--This realization of\nselfhood in the right course of action is, however, not _the_ end of a\nmoral act--that is, it is not the only end. The moral act is one which\nsustains a whole complex system of social values; one which keeps vital\nand progressive the industrial order, science, art, and the State. The\npatriot who dies for his country may find in that devotion his own\nsupreme realization, but none the less the aim of his act is precisely\nthat for which he performs it: the conservation of his nation. He dies\n_for_ his country, not _for_ himself. He is what he would be in dying\nfor his country, not in dying for himself. To say that his conscious aim\nis self-realization is to put the cart before the horse. That his\nwillingness to die for his country proves that his country's good is\ntaken by him to constitute himself and his own good is true; but his aim\nis his country's good _as constituting_ his self-realization, not the\nself-realization. It is impossible that genuine artistic creation or\nexecution should not be accompanied with the joy of an expanding\nselfhood, but the artist who thinks _of_ himself and allows a view of\nhimself to intervene between his performance and its result, has the\nembarrassment and awkwardness of \"self-consciousness,\" which affects for\nthe worse his artistic product. And it makes little difference whether\nit is the thought of himself as materially profiting, or as famous, or\nas technical performer, or as benefiting the public, or as securing his\nown complete artistic culture, that comes in between. In any case, there\nis loss to the work, and loss in the very thing taken as end, namely,\ndevelopment of his own powers. The problem of morality, upon the\nintellectual side, is the discovery of, the finding of, the self, in the\nobjective end to be striven for; and then upon the overt practical side,\nit is the losing of the self in the endeavor for the objective\nrealization. This is the lasting truth in the conception of\nself-abnegation, self-forgetfulness, disinterested interest.\n\n=The Thought of Self-Realization.=--Since, however, the realization of\nselfhood, the strengthening and perfecting of capacity, is as matter of\nfact one phase of the objective end, it may, _at times_, be definitely\npresent in thought as part of the foreseen consequences; and even, _at\ntimes_, may be the most prominent feature of the conceived results. The\nartist, for example a musician or painter, may practice for the sake of\nacquiring skill, that is, of developing capacity. In this case, the\nusual relationship of objective work and personal power is reversed; the\nproduct or performance being subordinated to the perfecting of power,\ninstead of power being realized in the use it is put to. But the\ndevelopment of power is not conceived as a final end, but as _desirable\nbecause of an eventual more liberal and effective use_. It is matter of\ntemporary emphasis. Something of like nature occurs in the moral\nlife--not that one definitely rehearses or practices moral deeds for the\nsake of acquiring more skill and power. At times the effect upon the\nself of a deed becomes the conspicuously controlling element in the\nforecast of consequences. (See p. 382.) For example, a person may\nrealize that a certain act is trivial in its effects upon others and in\nthe changes it impresses upon the world; and yet he may hesitate to\nperform it because he realizes it would intensify some tendency of his\nown in such a way as, in the delicate economy of character, to disturb\nthe proper balance of the springs to action. Or, on the other hand, the\nagent may apprehend that some consequences that are legitimate and\nimportant in themselves involve, in their attainment, an improper\nsacrifice of personal capacity. In such cases, the consideration of the\neffect upon self-realization is not only permissible, but imperative as\n_a part or phase of the total end_.\n\n=The Problem of Equating Personal and General Happiness.=--Much moral\nspeculation has been devoted to the problem of equating personal\nhappiness and regard for the general good. Right moral action, it is\nassumed, consists especially of justice and benevolence,--attitudes\nwhich aim at the good of others. But, it is also assumed, a just and\nrighteous order of the universe requires that the man who seeks the\nhappiness of others should also himself be a happy man. Much ingenuity\nhas been directed to explaining away and accounting for the seeming\ndiscrepancies: the cases where men not conspicuous for regard for others\nor for maintaining a serious and noble view of life seem to maintain a\nbanking-credit on the side of happiness; while men devoted to others,\nmen conspicuous for range of sympathetic affections, seem to have a\ndebit balance. The problem is the more serious because the respective\ngood and ill fortunes do not seem to be entirely accidental and\nexternal, but to come as results from the moral factors in behavior. It\nwould not be difficult to build up an argument to show that while\nextreme viciousness or isolated egoism is unfavorable to happiness, so\nalso are keenness and breadth of affections. The argument would claim\nthat the most comfortable course of life is one in which the man\ncultivates enough intimacies with enough persons to secure for himself\ntheir support and aid, but avoids engaging his sympathies too closely in\ntheir affairs and entangling himself in any associations which would\nrequire self-sacrifice or exposure to the sufferings of others: a course\nof life in which the individual shuns those excesses of vice which\ninjure health, wealth, and lessen the decent esteem of others, but also\nshuns enterprises of precarious virtue and devotion to high and\ndifficult ends.\n\n=Real and Artificial Aspects of the Problem.=--The problem thus put\nseems insoluble, or soluble only upon the supposition of some\nprolongation of life under conditions very different from those of the\npresent, in which the present lack of balance between happiness and\ngoodness will be redressed. _But the problem is insoluble because it is\nartificial._[183] It assumes a ready-made self and hence a ready-made\ntype of satisfaction of happiness. It is not the business of moral\ntheory to demonstrate the existence of mathematical equations, in this\nlife or another one, between goodness and virtue. It is the business of\nmen to develop such capacities and desires, such selves as render them\ncapable of finding their own satisfaction, their invaluable value, in\nfulfilling the demands which grow out of their associated life. Such\nhappiness may be short in duration and slight in bulk: but that it\noutweighs in quality all accompanying discomforts as well as all\nenjoyments which may have been missed by not doing something else, is\nattested by the simple fact that men do consciously choose it. Such a\nperson has found _himself_, and has solved the problem in the only place\nand in the only way in which it can be solved: _in action_. To demand in\nadvance of voluntary desire and deliberate choice that it be\ndemonstrated that an individual shall get happiness in the measure of\nthe rightness of his act, is to demand the obliteration of the essential\nfactor in morality: the constant discovery, formation, and reformation\nof the self in the ends which an individual is called upon to sustain\nand develop in virtue of his membership in a social whole. The solution\nof the problem through the individual's voluntary identification of\nhimself with social relations and aims is neither rare nor utopian. It\nis achieved not only by conspicuous social figures, but by multitudes of\n\"obscure\" figures who are faithful to the callings of their social\nrelationships and offices. That the conditions of life for all should be\nenlarged, that wider opportunities and richer fields of activity should\nbe opened, in order that happiness may be of a more noble and variegated\nsort, that those inequalities of status which lead men to find their\nadvantage in disregard of others should be destroyed--these things are\nindeed necessary. But under the most ideal conditions which can be\nimagined, if there remain any moral element whatsoever, it will be only\nthrough personal deliberation and personal preference as to objective\nand social ends that the individual will discover and constitute\nhimself, and hence discover the sort of happiness required as his good.\n\nOur final word about the place of the self in the moral life is, then,\nthat the problem of morality is the formation, out of the body of\noriginal instinctive impulses which compose the natural self, of a\nvoluntary self in which socialized desires and affections are dominant,\nand in which the last and controlling principle of deliberation is the\nlove of the objects which will make this transformation possible. If we\nidentify, as we must do, the interests of such a character with the\nvirtues, we may say with Spinoza that happiness is not the reward of\nvirtue, but is virtue itself. What, then, are the virtues?\n\n\nLITERATURE\n\nFor asceticism, see Lecky, _History of European Morals_.\n\nFor self-denial, Mackenzie, _International Journal of Ethics_, Vol. V.,\npp. 273-295.\n\nFor egoism and altruism: Comte, _System of Positive Politics_,\nIntroduction, ch. iii., and Part II., ch. ii.; Spencer, _Principles of\nEthics_, Vol. I., Part I., chs. xi.-xiv.; Stephen, _Science of Ethics_,\nch. vi.; Paulsen, _System of Ethics_, pp. 379-399; Sorley, _Recent\nTendencies in Ethics_; Sidgwick, _Methods of Ethics_, pp. 494-507.\n\nFor the doctrine of self-interest, see Mandeville, _Fable of Bees_;\nSidgwick, _Methods of Ethics_, Book I., ch. vii., and Book II., ch. v.;\nStephen, _Science of Ethics_, ch. x.; Martineau, _Types of Ethical\nTheory_, Part II., Book II., Branch I., ch. i.; Fite, _Introductory\nStudy_, ch. ii.\n\nFor historic development of sympathy, see Sutherland, _Origin and Growth\nof the Moral Instinct_.\n\nFor the doctrine of self-realization, see Aristotle, _Ethics_; Green,\n_Prolegomena to Ethics_; Seth, _Principles of Ethics_, Part I., ch.\niii.; Bradley, _Ethical Studies_, Essay II.; Fite, _Introductory Study_,\nch. xi.; Paulsen, _System of Ethics_, Book II., ch. i.; Taylor,\n_International Journal of Ethics_, Vol. VI., pp. 356-371; Palmer, _The\nHeart of Ethics_, and _The Nature of Goodness_; Calderwood,\n_Philosophical Review_, Vol. V., pp. 337-351; Dewey, _Philosophical\nReview_, Vol. II., pp. 652-664; Bryant, _Studies in Character_, pp.\n97-117.\n\nFor the ethics of success, besides the writings of Nietzsche, see Plato,\n_Gorgias_ and _Republic_, Book I., and Sumner, _Folkways_, ch. xx.\n\nFor the social self: Cooley, _Human Nature and the Social Order_, chs.\nv. and vi.; for the antagonistic self, chs. vii.-ix.\n\nFor a general discussion of the Moral Self, see Bosanquet, _Psychology\nof the Moral Self_; Ladd, _Philosophy of Conduct_, ch. ix. (see also ch.\nxviii. on the Good Man).\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[170] Compare the opening words of Emerson's _Essay on Compensation_.\n\n[171] The principle of a \"higher law\" for the few who are leaders was\nfirst explicitly asserted in modern thought by Machiavelli.\n\n[172] Some phases of the writings of Nietzsche supply relevant material\nfor this sketch. See especially his _Will for Power, Beyond Good and\nEvil_, and such statements as: \"The loss of force which suffering has\nalready brought upon life is still further increased and multiplied by\nsympathy. Suffering itself becomes contagious through sympathy\"\n(overlooking the reaction of sympathy to abolish the source of suffering\nand thus increase force). \"Sympathy thwarts, on the whole, in general,\nthe law of development, which is the law of selection.\"--_Works_, Vol.\nXI., p. 242.\n\n[173] This phase of the matter has been brought out (possibly with some\ncounter-exaggeration) by Kropotkin in his _Mutual Aid_.\n\n[174] Spencer puts the matter truly, if ponderously, in the following:\n\"The citizens of a large nation industrially organized, have reached\ntheir possible ideal of happiness when the producing, distributing and\nother activities, are such in their kinds and amounts, that each\nindividual finds in them a place for all his energies and aptitudes,\nwhile he obtains the means of satisfying all his desires. Once more we\nmay recognize as not only possible, but probable, the eventual existence\nof a community, also industrial, the members of which, having natures\nsimilarly responding to these requirements, are also characterized by\ndominant aesthetic faculties, and achieve complete happiness only when a\nlarge part of life is filled with aesthetic activities\" (_Principles of\nEthics_, Vol. I., p. 169).\n\n[175] Machiavelli, transferring from theology to statecraft the notion\nof the corruption and selfishness of all men, was the first modern to\npreach this doctrine.\n\n[176] See, for example, Hobbes, _Leviathan_; Mandeville, _Fable of the\nBees_; and Rochefoucauld, _Maxims_.\n\n[177] Compare what was said above, p. 273, on the confusion of pleasure\nas end, and as motive. Compare also the following from Leslie Stephen,\n_Science of Ethics_, p. 241. It is often \"insinuated that I dislike your\npain because it is painful to me in some special relation. I do not\ndislike it as your pain, but in virtue of some particular consequence,\nsuch, for example, as its making you less able to render me a service.\nIn that case I do not really object to your pain as your pain at all,\nbut only to some removable and accidental consequences.\" The entire\ndiscussion of sympathy (pp. 230-245), which is admirable, should be\nconsulted.\n\n[178] _Psychology_, Vol. I., p. 320. The whole discussion, pp. 317-329,\nis very important.\n\n[179] See, for example, James, _Principles of Psychology_, Vol. II., ch.\nxxiv.\n\n[180] Measures of public or state activity in the extension, for\nexample, of education (furnishing free text-books, adequate medical\ninspection, and remedy of defects), are opposed by \"good people\" because\nthere are \"charitable\" agencies for doing these things.\n\n[181] Compare Spencer's criticisms of Bentham's view of happiness as a\nsocial standard in contrast with his own ideal of freedom. See _Ethics_,\nVol. I., pp. 162-168.\n\n[182] See Addams, _Democracy and Social Ethics_, ch. ii.\n\n[183] Compare the following extreme words of Sumner (_Folkways_, p. 9):\n\"The great question of world philosophy always has been, what is the\nreal relation between happiness and goodness? It is only within a few\ngenerations that men have found courage to say there is none.\" But when\nSumner, in the next sentence, says, \"The whole strength of the notion\nthat they are correlated is in the opposite experience which proves that\nno evil thing brings happiness,\" one may well ask what more relation any\nreasonable man would want. For it indicates that \"goodness\" consists in\nactive interest in those things which really bring happiness; and while\nit by no means follows that this interest will _bring_ even a\npreponderance of pleasure over pain to the person, it is always open to\nhim to _find_ and _take_ his dominant happiness in making this interest\ndominant in his life.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\nTHE VIRTUES\n\n\nINTRODUCTORY\n\n=Definition of Virtue.=--It is upon the self, upon the agent, that\nultimately falls the burden of maintaining and of extending the values\nwhich make life reasonable and good. The worth of science, of art, of\nindustry, of relationship of man and wife, parent and child, teacher and\npupil, friend and friend, citizen and State, exists only as there are\ncharacters consistently interested in such goods. Hence any trait of\ncharacter which makes for these goods is esteemed; it is given positive\nvalue; while any disposition of selfhood found to have a contrary\ntendency is condemned--has negative value. The habits of character whose\neffect is to sustain and spread the rational or common good are virtues;\nthe traits of character which have the opposite effect are vices.\n\n=Virtue and Approbation; Vice and Condemnation.=--The approbation and\ndisapprobation visited upon conduct are never purely intellectual. They\nare also emotional and practical. We are stirred to hostility at\nwhatever disturbs the order of society; we are moved to admiring\nsympathy of whatever makes for its welfare. And these emotions express\nthemselves in appropriate conduct. To disapprove and dislike is to\nreprove, blame, and punish. To approve is to encourage, to aid, and\nsupport. Hence the judgments express the character of the one who utters\nthem--they are traits of his conduct and character; and they react into\nthe character of the agent upon whom they are directed. They are part\nof the process of forming character. The commendation is of the nature\nof a reward calculated to confirm the person in the right course of\naction. The reprobation is of the nature of punishment, fitted to\ndissuade the agent from the wrong course. This encouragement and blame\nare not necessarily of an external sort; the reward and the punishment\nmay not be in material things. It is not from ulterior design that\nsociety esteems and respects those attributes of an agent which tend to\nits own peace and welfare; it is from natural, instinctive response to\nacknowledge whatever makes for its good. None the less, the social\nesteem, the honor which attend certain acts inevitably educate the\nindividual who performs these acts, and they strengthen, emotionally and\npractically, his interest in the right. Similarly, there is an\ninstinctive reaction of society against an infringement of its customs\nand ideals; it naturally \"makes it hot\" for any one who disturbs its\nvalues. And this disagreeable attention instructs the individual as to\nthe consequences of his act, and works to hinder the formation of\ndispositions of the socially disliked kind.\n\n=Natural Ability and Virtue.=--There is a tendency to use the term\nvirtue in an abstract \"moralistic\" sense--a way which makes it almost\nPharisaic in character. Hard and fast lines are drawn between certain\ntraits of character labeled \"virtues\" and others called talents, natural\nabilities, or gifts of nature. Apart from deliberate or reflective\nnurture, modesty or generosity is no less and no more a purely natural\nability than is good-humor, a turn for mechanics, or presence of mind.\nEvery natural capacity, every talent or ability, whether of inquiring\nmind, of gentle affection or of executive skill, becomes a virtue when\nit is turned to account in supporting or extending the fabric of social\nvalues; and it turns, if not to vice at least to delinquency, when not\nthus utilized. The important habits conventionally reckoned virtues are\nbarren unless they are the cumulative assemblage of a multitude of\nanonymous interests and capacities. Such natural aptitudes vary widely\nin different individuals. Their endowments and circumstances occasion\nand exact different virtues, and yet one person is not more or less\nvirtuous than another because his virtues take a different form.\n\n=Changes in Virtues.=--It follows also that the meaning, or content, of\nvirtues changes from time to time. Their abstract form, the man's\nattitude towards the good, remains the same. But when institutions and\ncustoms change and natural abilities are differently stimulated and\nevoked, ends vary, and habits of character are differently esteemed both\nby the individual agent and by others who judge. No social group could\nbe maintained without patriotism and chastity, but the actual meaning of\nchastity and patriotism is widely different in contemporary society from\nwhat it was in savage tribes or from what we may expect it to be five\nhundred years from now. Courage in one society may consist almost wholly\nin willingness to face physical danger and death in voluntary devotion\nto one's community; in another, it may be willingness to support an\nunpopular cause in the face of ridicule.\n\n=Conventional and Genuine Virtue.=--When we take these social changes on\na broad scale, in the gross, the point just made is probably clear\nwithout emphasis. But we are apt to forget that minor changes are going\non all the while. The community's formulated code of esteem and regard\nand praise at any given time is likely to lag somewhat behind its\npractical level of achievement and possibility. It is more or less\ntraditional, describing what used to be, rather than what are, virtues.\nThe \"respectable\" comes to mean tolerable, passable, conventional.\nAccordingly the prevailing scheme of assigning merit and blame, while on\nthe whole a mainstay of moral guidance and instruction, is also a menace\nto moral growth. Hence men must look behind the current valuation to the\nreal value. Otherwise, mere conformity to custom is conceived to be\nvirtue;[184] and the individual who deviates from custom in the interest\nof wider and deeper good is censured.\n\n=Moral Responsibility for Praise and Blame.=--The practical assigning of\nvalue, of blame and praise, is a measure and exponent of the character\nof the one from whom it issues. In judging others, in commending and\ncondemning, we judge ourselves. What we find to be praiseworthy and\nblameworthy is a revelation of our own affections. Very literally the\nmeasure we mete to others is meted to us. To be free in our attributions\nof blame is to be censorious and uncharitable; to be unresentful to evil\nis to be indifferent, or interested perhaps chiefly in one's own\npopularity, so that one avoids giving offense to others. To engage\nprofusely in blame and approbation in speech without acts which back up\nor attack the ends verbally honored or condemned, is to have a\nperfunctory morality. To cultivate complacency and remorse apart from\neffort to improve is to indulge in sentimentality. In short, to approve\nor to condemn is itself a moral act for which we are as much responsible\nas we are for any other deed.\n\n=Impossibility of Cataloguing Virtues.=--These last three\nconsiderations: (1) the intimate connection of virtues with all sorts of\nindividual capacities and endowments, (2) the change in types of habit\nrequired with change of social customs and institutions, (3) the\ndependence of judgment of vice and virtue upon the character of the one\njudging,[185] make undesirable and impossible a catalogued list of\nvirtues with an exact definition of each. Virtues are numberless. Every\nsituation, not of a routine order, brings in some special shading, some\nunique adaptation, of disposition.\n\n=Twofold Classification.=--We may, however, classify the chief\ninstitutions of social life--language, scientific investigation,\nartistic production, industrial efficiency, family, local community,\nnation, humanity--and specify the types of mental disposition and\ninterest which are fitted to maintain them flourishingly; or, starting\nfrom typical impulsive and instinctive tendencies, we may consider the\nform they assume when they become intelligently exercised habits. A\nvirtue may be defined, accordingly, either as _the settled intelligent\nidentification of an agent's capacity with some aspect of the reasonable\nor common happiness_; or, as _a social custom or tendency organized into\na personal habit of valuation_. From the latter standpoint, truthfulness\nis the social institution of language maintained at its best pitch of\nefficiency through the habitual purposes of individuals; from the\nformer, it is an instinctive capacity and tendency to communicate\nemotions and ideas directed so as to maintain social peace and\nprosperity. In like fashion, one might catalogue all forms of social\ncustom and institution on one hand; and all the species and varieties of\nindividual equipment on the other, and enumerate a virtue for each. But\nthe performance is so formal as not to amount to much.\n\n=Aspects of Virtue.=--Any virtuous disposition of character exhibits,\nhowever, certain main traits, a consideration of which will serve to\nreview and summarize our analysis of the moral life.\n\n=I. The Interest Must be Entire or Whole-hearted.=--The whole self,\nwithout division or reservation, must go out into the proposed object\nand find therein its own satisfaction. Virtue is integrity; vice\nduplicity. Goodness is straight, right; badness is crooked, indirect.\nInterest that is incomplete is not interest, but (so far as incomplete)\nindifference and disregard. This totality of interest we call affection,\nlove; and love is the fulfilling of the law. A grudging virtue is next\nto no virtue at all; thorough heartiness in even a bad cause stirs\nadmiration, and lukewarmness in every direction is always despised as\nmeaning lack of character. Surrender, abandonment, is of the essence of\nidentification of self with an object.\n\n=II. The Interest Must be Energetic and Hence Persistent.=--One swallow\ndoes not make a summer nor a sporadic right act a virtuous habit.\nFair-weather character has a proverbially bad name. Endurance through\ndiscouragement, through good repute and ill, weal and woe, tests the\nvigor of interest in the good, and both builds up and expresses a formed\ncharacter.\n\n=III. The Interest Must be Pure or Sincere.=--Honesty is, doubtless, the\nbest policy, and it is better a man should be honest from policy than\nnot honest at all. If genuinely honest from considerations of prudence,\nhe is on the road to learn better reasons for honesty. None the less, we\nare suspicious of a man if we believe that motives of personal profit\nare the only stay of his honesty. For circumstances might arise in\nwhich, in the exceptional case, it would be clear that personal\nadvantage lay in dishonesty. The motive for honesty would hold in most\ncases, in ordinary and routine circumstances and in the glare of\npublicity, but not in the dark of secrecy, or in the turmoil of\ndisturbed circumstance. The eye single to the good, the \"disinterested\ninterest\" of moralists, is required. The motive that has to be coaxed or\ncoerced to its work by some promise or threat is imperfect.\n\n=Cardinal or Indispensable Aspects of Virtue.=--Bearing in mind that we\nare not attempting to classify various acts or habits, but only to state\ntraits essential to all morality, we have the \"cardinal virtues\" of\nmoral theory. As whole-hearted, as complete interest, any habit or\nattitude of character involves justice and love; as persistently active,\nit is courage, fortitude, or vigor; as unmixed and single, it is\ntemperance--in its classic sense. And since no habitual interest can be\nintegral, enduring, or sincere, save as it is reasonable, save, that is,\nas it is rooted in the deliberate habit of viewing the part in the light\nof the whole, the present in the light of the past and future, interest\nin the good is also wisdom or conscientiousness:--interest in the\ndiscovery of the true good of the situation. Without this interest, all\nour interest is likely to be perverted and misleading--requiring to be\nrepented of.\n\nWisdom, or (in modern phrase) conscientiousness, is the nurse of all the\nvirtues. Our most devoted courage is in the will to know the good and\nthe fair by unflinching attention to the painful and disagreeable. Our\nseverest discipline in self-control is that which checks the exorbitant\npretensions of an appetite by insisting upon knowing it in its true\nproportions. The most exacting justice is that of an intelligence which\ngives due weight to each desire and demand in deliberation before it is\nallowed to pass into overt action. That affection and wisdom lie close\nto each other is evidenced by our language; thoughtfulness, regard,\nconsideration for others, recognition of others, attention to others.\n\n\nSec. 1. TEMPERANCE\n\nThe English word \"temperance\" (particularly in its local association\nwith agitation regarding use of intoxicating liquors) is a poor\nsubstitute for the Greek _sophrosyne_ which, through the Latin\n_temperantia_, it represents. The Athenian Greek was impressed with the\nfact that just as there are lawless, despotically ruled, and\nself-governed communities, so there are lawless, and servile, and\nself-ruled individuals. Whenever there is a self-governed soul, there\nis a happy blending of the authority of reason with the force of\nappetite. The individual's diverse nature is tempered into a living\nharmony of desire and intelligence. Reason governs not as a tyrant from\nwithout, but as a guide to which the impulses and emotions are gladly\nresponsive. Such a well-attuned nature, as far from asceticism on one\nside as from random indulgence on the other, represented the ideal of\nwhat was fair and graceful in character, an ideal embodied in the notion\nof _sophrosyne_. This was a _whole-mindedness_ which resulted from the\nhappy furtherance of all the elements of human nature under the\nself-accepted direction of intelligence. It implied an _aesthetic_ view\nof character; of harmony in structure and rhythm in action. It was the\nvirtue of judgment exercised in the estimate of pleasures:--since it is\nthe agreeable, the pleasant, which gives an end excessive hold upon us.\n\n=Roman Temperantia.=--The Roman conceived this virtue under the term\n_temperantia_, which conveys the same idea, but accommodated to the\nRoman genius. It is connected with the word _tempus_, time, which is\nconnected also with a root meaning divide, distribute; it suggests a\nconsecutive orderliness of behavior, a freedom from excessive and\nreckless action, first this way, and then that. It means seemliness,\ndecorum, decency. It was \"moderation,\" not as quantity of indulgence,\nbut as a moderating of each act in a series by the thought of other and\nsucceeding acts--keeping each in sequence with others in a whole. The\nidea of time involves time to think; the sobering second thought\nexpressed in seriousness and gravity. The negative side, the side of\nrestraint, of inhibition, is strong, and functions for the consistent\ncalm and gravity of life.\n\n=Christian Purity.=--Through the Christian influence, the connotation\nwhich is marked in the notion of control of sexual appetite, became most\nobvious--_purity_. Passion is not so much something which disturbs the\nharmony of man's nature, or which interrupts its orderliness, as it is\nsomething which defiles the purity of spiritual nature. It is the\ngrossness, the contamination of appetite which is insisted upon, and\ntemperance is the maintenance of the soul spotless and unsullied.\n\n=Negative Phase=:--Self-control. A negative aspect of self-control,\nrestraint, inhibition is everywhere involved.[186] It is not, however,\ndesire, or appetite, or passion, or impulse, which has to be checked\n(much less eliminated); it is rather that tendency of desire and passion\nso to engross attention as to destroy our sense of the other ends which\nhave a claim upon us. This moderation of pretension is indispensable for\nevery desire. In one direction, it is modesty, humility; the restraint\nof the tendency of self-conceit to distort the relative importance of\nthe agent's and others' concerns; in another direction, it is chastity;\nin another, \"temperance\" in the narrower sense of that word--keeping the\nindulgence of hunger and thirst from passing reasonable bounds; in\nanother, it is calmness, self-possession--moderation of the transporting\npower of excitement; in yet another, it is discretion, imposing limits\nupon the use of the hand, eye, or tongue. In matters of wealth, it is\ndecent regulation of display and ostentation. In general, it is\nprudence, control of the present impulse and desire by a view of the\n\"long run,\" of proximate by remote consequences.[187]\n\n=Positive Phase: Reverence.=--The tendency of dominant passion is to\nrush us along, to prevent our thinking. The one thing that desire\nemphasizes is, for the time being, the most important thing in the\nuniverse. This is necessary to heartiness and effectiveness of interest\nand behavior. But it is important that the thing which thus absorbs\ndesire should be an end capable of justifying its power to absorb. This\nis possible only if it expresses the entire self. Otherwise capacities\nand desires which will occur later will be inconsistent and\nantagonistic, and conduct will be unregulated and unstable. The\nunderlying idea in \"temperance\" is then a care of details for the sake\nof the whole course of behavior of which they are parts; heedfulness,\npainstaking devotion. Laxness in conduct means carelessness; lack of\nregard for the whole life permits temporary inclinations to get a sway\nthat the outcome will not justify. In its more striking forms, we call\nthis care and respect _reverence_; recognition of the unique, invaluable\nworth embodied in any situation or act of life, a recognition which\nchecks that flippancy of surrender to momentary excitement coming from a\nsuperficial view of behavior. A sense of momentous issues at stake means\na sobering and deepening of the mental attitude. The consciousness that\nevery deed of life has an import clear beyond its immediate, or first\nsignificance, attaches dignity to every act. To live in the sense of the\nlarger values attaching to our passing desires and deeds is to be\npossessed by the virtue of temperance.\n\n=Control of Excitement.=--What hinders such living is, as we have seen,\nthe exaggerated intensity, the lack of proportion and perspective, with\nwhich any appetite or desire is likely to present itself. It is this\nwhich moralists of all ages have attacked under the name of\npleasure--the alluring and distracting power of the momentarily\nagreeable. Seeing in this the enemy which prevents the rational survey\nof the whole field and the calm, steady insight into the true good, it\nis hardly surprising that moralists have attacked \"pleasure\" as the\nsource of every temptation to stray from the straight path of reason.\nBut it is not pleasure, it is one form of pleasure, the _pleasure of\nexcitement_, which is the obstacle and danger.[188] Every impulse and\ndesire marks a certain disturbance in the order of life, an exaltation\nabove the existing level, a pressure beyond its existing limit. To give\nway to desire, to let it grow, to taste to the full its increasing and\nintensifying excitement, is the temptation. The bodily appetites of\nhunger and thirst and sex, with which we associate the grossest forms of\nindulgence and laxity, exemplify the principle of expanding waves of\norganic stimulation. But so also do many of the subtler forms of\nunrestraint or intemperate action. The one with a clever and lively\ntongue is tempted to let it run away with him; the vain man feeds upon\nthe excitement of a personality heightened by display and the notice of\nothers; the angry man, even though he knows he will later regret his\nsurrender, gives away to the sense of expanding power coincident with\nhis discharge of rage. The shiftless person finds it easier to take\nchances and let consequences take care of themselves, while he enjoys\nlocal and casual stimulations. Trivialities and superficialities\nentangle us in a flippant life, because each one as it comes promises to\nbe \"thrilling,\" while the very fear that this promise will not be kept\nhurries us on to new experiences. To think of alternatives and\nconsequences is not \"thrilling,\" but serious.\n\n=Necessity of Superior Interest.=--Now calculation of the utilitarian\ntype is not adequate to deal with this temptation. Those who are prone\nto reflection upon results are just those who are least likely to be\ncarried away by excitement--unless, as is the case with some\nspecialists, thinking is itself the mode of indulgence in\nexcitement.[189] With those who are carried away habitually by some mode\nof excitement, the disease and the incapacity to take the proffered\nremedy of reflection are the same thing. Only some _other_ passion will\naccomplish the desired control. With the Greeks, it was aesthetic\npassion, love of the grace and beauty, the rhythm and harmony, of a\nself-controlled life. With the Romans, it was the passion for dignity,\npower, honor of personality, evidenced in rule of appetite. Both of\nthese motives remain among the strong allies of ordered conduct. But the\npassion for purity, the sense of something degrading and foul in\nsurrender to the base, an interest in something spotless, free from\nadulteration, are, in some form or other, the chief resource in\novercoming the tendency of excitement to usurp the governance of the\nself.[190]\n\n\nSec. 2. COURAGE[191] OR PERSISTENT VIGOR\n\nWhile love of excitement allures man from the path of reason, fear of\npain, dislike to hardship, and laborious effort, hold him back from\nentering it. Dislike of the disagreeable inhibits or contracts the\nputting forth of energy, just as liking for agreeable stimulation\ndischarges and exhausts it. Intensity of active interest in the good\nalone subdues that instinctive shrinking from the unpleasant and hard\nwhich slackens energy or turns it aside. Such energy of devotion is\ncourage. Its etymological connection with the Latin word for _heart_,\nsuggests a certain abundant spontaneity, a certain overflow of positive\nenergy; the word was applied to this aspect of virtue when the heart was\nregarded as literally (not metaphorically) the seat of vital impulse and\nabundant forcefulness.\n\n=Courage and the Common Good.=--One of the problems of early Greek\nthought was that of discriminating courage as virtuous from a sort of\nanimal keenness and alacrity, easily running into recklessness and\nbravado. It was uniformly differentiated from mere overflow of\nphysical energy by the fact that it was exhibited in support of some\ncommon or social good. It bore witness to its voluntary character\nby abiding in the face of threatened evil. Its simplest form was\npatriotism--willingness to brave the danger of death in facing the\ncountry's enemy from love of country. And this basic largeness of spirit\nin which the individual sinks considerations of personal loss and harm\nin allegiance to an objective good remains a cardinal aspect of all\nright disposition.\n\n=Courage is Preeminently the Executive Side of Every Virtue.=--The good\nwill, as we saw, means endeavor, effort, towards certain ends; unless\nthe end stirs to strenuous exertion, it is a sentimental, not a moral or\npractical end. And endeavor implies obstacles to overcome, resistance to\nwhat diverts, painful labor. It is the degree of threatened harm--in\nspite of which one does not swerve--which measures this depth and\nsincerity of interest in the good.\n\n=Aspects of Interest in Execution.=--Certain formal traits of courage\nfollow at once from this general definition. In its onset, willingness\nin behalf of the common good to endure attendant private evils is\nalacrity, promptness. In its abiding and unswerving devotion, it is\nconstancy, loyalty, and faithfulness. In its continual resistance to\nevil, it is fortitude, patience, perseverance, willingness to abide for\njustification an ultimate issue. The _totality_ of commitment of self\nto the good is decision and firmness. Conviction and resolution\naccompany all true moral endeavor. These various dimensions (intensity,\nduration, extent, and fullness) are, however, only differing expressions\nof one and the same attitude of vigorous, energetic identification of\nagency with the object.\n\n=Goodness and Effectiveness.=--It is the failure to give due weight to\nthis factor of morality (the \"works\" of theological discussion) which is\nresponsible for the not uncommon idea that moral goodness means loss of\npractical efficacy. When inner disposition is severed from outer action,\nwishing divorced from executive willing, morality is reduced to mere\nharmlessness; outwardly speaking, the best that can then be said of\nvirtue is that it is innocent and innocuous. Unscrupulousness is\nidentified with energy of execution; and a minute and paralyzing\nscrupulosity with goodness. It is in reaction from such futile morality\nthat the gospel of force and of shrewdness of selecting and adapting\nmeans to the desired end, is preached and gains hearers--as in the Italy\nof the Renaissance[192] in reaction against mediaeval piety, and again in\nour own day (see _ante_, p. 374).\n\n=Moral Courage and Optimism.=--A characteristic modern development of\ncourageousness is implied in the phrase \"moral courage,\"--as if all\ngenuine courage were not moral. It means devotion to the good in the\nface of the customs of one's friends and associates, rather than against\nthe attacks of one's enemies. It is willingness to brave for sake of a\nnew idea of the good the unpopularity that attends breach of custom and\nconvention. It is this type of heroism, manifested in integrity of\nmemory and foresight, which wins the characteristic admiration of\nto-day, rather than the outward heroism of bearing wounds and undergoing\nphysical dangers. It is _attention_ upon which the stress falls.[193]\nThis supplies, perhaps, the best vantage point from which to survey\noptimism and pessimism in their direct moral bearings. The individual\nwhose pursuit of the good is colored by honest recognition of existing\nand threatening evils is almost always charged with being a pessimist;\nwith cynical delight in dwelling upon what is morbid, base, or sordid;\nand he is urged to be an \"optimist,\" meaning in effect to conceal from\nhimself and others evils that obtain. Optimism, thus conceived, is a\ncombination of building rosy-colored castles in the air and hiding,\nostrich-like, from actual facts. As a general thing, it will be those\nwho have some interest at stake in evils remaining unperceived, and\nhence unremedied, who most clamor in the cause of such \"optimism.\" Hope\nand aspiration, belief in the supremacy of good in spite of all evil,\nbelief in the realizability of good in spite of all obstacles, are\nnecessary inspirations in the life of virtue. The good can never be\ndemonstrated to the senses, nor be proved by calculations of personal\nprofit. It involves a radical venture of the will in the interest of\nwhat is unseen and prudentially incalculable. But such optimism of\n_will_, such determination of the man that, so far as his choice is\nconcerned, only the good shall be recognized as real, is very different\nfrom a sentimental refusal to look at the realities of the situation\njust as they are. In fact a certain intellectual pessimism, in the sense\nof a steadfast willingness to uncover sore points, to acknowledge and\nsearch for abuses, to note how presumed good often serves as a cloak for\nactual bad, is a necessary part of the moral optimism which actively\ndevotes itself to making the right prevail. Any other view reduces the\naspiration and hope, which are the essence of moral courage, to a\ncheerful animal buoyancy; and, in its failure to see the evil done to\nothers in its thoughtless pursuit of what it calls good, is nextdoor to\nbrutality, to a brutality bathed in the atmosphere of sentimentality and\nflourishing the catchwords of idealism.\n\n\nSec. 3. JUSTICE\n\n=In Ethical Literature Justice Has Borne at Least Three Different\nSenses.=[194]--In its widest sense, it means righteousness, uprightness,\nrectitude. It sums up morality. It is not _a_ virtue, but it is virtue.\nThe just act is the _due_ act; justice is fulfillment of obligation. (2)\nThis passes over into fairness, equity, impartiality, honesty in all\none's dealing with others. (3) The narrowest meaning is that of\n_vindication_ of right through the administration of law.[194] Since\nAristotle's time (and following his treatment) this has been divided\ninto (i.) the _distributive_, having to do with the assignment of honor,\nwealth, etc., in proportion to desert, and (ii.) the _corrective_,\nvindicating the law against the transgressor by effecting a requital,\nredress, which restores the supremacy of law.\n\n=A Thread of Common Significance Runs through These Various\nMeanings.=--The rational good means a comprehensive or complete end, in\nwhich are harmoniously included a variety of special aims and values.\nThe just man is the man who takes in the whole of a situation and reacts\nto it in its wholeness, not being misled by undue respect to some\nparticular factor. Since the general or inclusive good is a common or\nsocial good, reconciling and combining the ends of a multitude of\nprivate or particular persons, justice is the preeminently social\nvirtue: that which maintains the due order of individuals in the\ninterest of the comprehensive or social unity.\n\nJustice, as equity, fairness, impartiality, honesty, carries the\nrecognition of the whole over into the question of right distribution\nand apportionment among its parts. The equitable judge or administrator\nis the one who makes no unjustifiable distinctions among those dealt\nwith. A fair price is one which recognizes the rights of both buyer and\nseller. An honest man is the one who, with respect to whatever he has to\ndistribute to others and to receive from them, is desirous of giving and\ntaking just what belongs to each party concerned. The fair-minded man is\nnot bribed by pleasure into giving undue importance to some element of\ngood nor coerced by fear of pain into ignoring some other. He\n_distributes_ his attention, regard, and attachment according to the\nreasonable or objective claims of each factor.\n\n=Justice and Sympathy or Love.=--The most significant questions\nregarding justice are as to its connection with love and with\ncondemnation and punishment. It is a common notion that justice is harsh\nor hard in its workings and that it requires to be supplemented, if not\nreplaced, by mercy. Taken literally this would mean that justice is not\njust in its workings. The truth contained is that what is frequently\nregarded as justice is not justice, but an imperfect substitute for it.\nWhen a legal type of morality is current, justice is regarded as the\nworking of some fixed and abstract law; it is the law as law which is to\nbe reverenced; it is law as law whose majesty is to be vindicated. It is\nforgotten that the nobility and dignity of law are due to the place of\nlaw in securing the order involved in the realization of human\nhappiness. Then the law instead of being a servant of the good is put\narbitrarily above it, as if man was made for law, not law for man. The\nresult is inevitably harshness; indispensable factors of happiness are\nruthlessly slighted, or ruled out; the loveliness and grace of behavior\nresponding freely and flexibly to the requirements of unique situations\nare stiffened into uniformity. The formula _summum jus summa injuria_\nexpresses the outcome when abstract law is insisted upon without\nreference to the needs of concrete cases. Under such conditions, there\narises a demand for tempering the sternness of justice with mercy, and\nsupplementing the severity of law with grace. This demand means that the\nneglected human values shall be restored into the idea of what is just.\n\n=\"Social Justice.\"=--Our own time has seen a generous quickening of the\nidea of social justice due to the growth of love, or philanthropy, as a\nworking social motive. In the older scheme of morals, justice was\nsupposed to meet all the necessary requirements of virtue; charity was\ndoing good in ways not obligatory or strictly exacted. Hence it was a\nsource of peculiar merit in the doer, a means of storing up a surplus of\nvirtue to offset vice. But a more generous sense of inherent social\nrelationships binding the aims of all into one comprehensive good, which\nis the result of increase of human intercourse, democratic institutions,\nand biological science, has made men recognize that the greater part of\nthe sufferings and miseries which afford on the part of a few the\nopportunity for charity (and hence superior merit), are really social\ninequities, due to causes which may be remedied. That justice requires\nradical improvement of these conditions displaces the notion that their\neffects may be here and there palliated by the voluntary merit of\nmorally superior individuals. The change illustrates, on a wide scale,\nthe transformation of the conception of justice so that it joins hands\nwith love and sympathy. That human nature should have justice done it\nunder all circumstances is an infinitely complicated and difficult\nrequirement, and only a vision of the capacities and accomplishments of\nhuman beings rooted in affection and sympathy can perceive and execute\njustly.\n\n=Transformation of Punitive Justice.=--The conception of punitive or\ncorrective justice is undergoing the same transformation. Aristotle\nstated the rule of equity in the case of wrongdoing as an arithmetical\nrequital: the individual was to suffer according to his deed. Later,\nthrough conjunction with the idea of a divine judge inflicting\nretribution upon the sinner, this notion passed into the belief that\npunishment is a form of justice restoring the balance of disturbed law\nby inflicting suffering upon the one who has done wrong. The end and aim\nof punishment was retribution, bringing back to the agent the evil\nconsequences of his own deed. That punishment is suffering, that it\ninevitably involves pain to the guilty one, there can be no question;\nthis, whether the punishment is externally inflicted or is in the pangs\nof conscience, and whether administered by parent, teacher, or civil\nauthority. But that suffering is for the sake of suffering, or that\nsuffering can in any way restore or affect the violated majesty of law,\nis a different matter.\n\nWhat erring human nature deserves or merits, it is just it should have.\nBut in the end, a moral agent deserves to _be_ a moral agent; and hence\ndeserves that punishments inflicted should be _corrective_, not merely\nretributive. Every wrongdoer should have his due. But what is his due?\nCan we measure it by his past alone; or is it due every one to regard\nhim as a man with a future as well? as having possibilities for good as\nwell as achievements in bad? Those who are responsible for the\ninfliction of punishment have, as well as those punished, to meet the\nrequirements of justice; and failure to employ the means and\ninstrumentalities of punishment in a way to lead, so far as possible,\nthe wrongdoer to reconsideration of conduct and re-formation of\ndisposition, cannot shelter itself under the plea that it vindicates\nlaw. Such failure comes rather from thoughtless custom; from a lazy\nunwillingness to find better means; from an admixture of pride with lack\nof sympathy for others; from a desire to maintain things as they are\nrather than go to the causes which generate criminals.\n\n\nSec. 4. WISDOM OR CONSCIENTIOUSNESS\n\nAs we have repeatedly noted, the heart of a voluntary act is its\nintelligent or deliberate character. The individual's _intelligent_\nconcern for the good is implied in his sincerity, his faithfulness, and\nhis integrity. Of all the habits which constitute the character of an\nindividual, the habit of _judging_ moral situations is the most\nimportant, for this is the key to the _direction_ and to the _remaking_\nof all other habits. When an act is overt, it is irretrievably launched.\nThe agent has no more control. The moral life has its center in the\nperiods of suspended and postponed action, when the energy of the\nindividual is spent in recollection and foresight, in severe inquiry and\nserious consideration of alternative aims. Only through reflection can\nhabits, however good in their origin and past exercise, be readapted to\nthe needs of the present; only through reflection can impulses, not yet\nhaving found direction, be guided into the haven of a reasonable\nhappiness.\n\n=Greek Emphasis upon Insight or Wisdom.=--It is not surprising that the\nGreeks, the first seriously to inquire into the nature of behavior and\nits end or good, should have eulogized _wisdom_, _insight_, as the\nsupreme virtue and the source of all the virtues. Now, indeed, it seems\nparadoxical to say with Socrates that ignorance is the only vice; that\nman is bad not voluntarily, from deliberate choice, but only from\nignorance. But this is largely because we discriminate between different\nkinds of knowledge as the Greek did not, and as they had no occasion for\ndoing. We have a second-hand knowledge, a knowledge from books,\nnewspapers, etc., which was practically non-existent even in the best\ndays of Athens. Knowledge meant to them something more personal;\nsomething like what we call a \"realizing sense\"; an intimate and\nwell-founded conviction. To us knowledge suggests information about what\nothers have found out, and hence is more remote in its meaning. Greek\nknowledge was mostly directly connected with the affairs of their common\nassociated life. The very words for knowledge and art, understanding and\nskill, were hardly separated. Knowledge was knowledge about the city,\nits traditions, literature, history, customs, purposes, etc. Their\nastronomy was connected with their civic religion; their geography with\ntheir own topography; their mathematics with their civil and military\npursuits. Now we have immense bodies of impersonal knowledge, remote\nfrom direct bearing upon affairs. Knowledge has accordingly subdivided\nitself into theoretical or scientific and practical or moral. We use the\nterm knowledge usually only for the first kind; hence the Socratic\nposition seems gratuitously paradoxical. But under the titles of\n_conscience_ and _conscientiousness_ we preserve the meaning which was\nattached to the term knowledge. It is not paradoxical to say that\nunconscientiousness is the fundamental vice, and genuine\nconscientiousness is guarantee of all virtue.\n\n=Conscientiousness.=--In this change from Greek wisdom to modern\nconscientiousness there have been some loss and some gain. The loss lies\nin a certain hardening of the idea of insight and deliberation, due to\nthe isolation of the moral good from the other goods of life. The good\nman and the bad man have been endowed with the same faculty; and this\nfaculty has been treated as automatically delivering correct\nconclusions. On the other hand, modern conscientiousness contains less\nof the idea of intellectual accomplishment, and more of the idea of\ninterest in finding out the good in conduct. \"Wisdom\" tended to\nemphasize achieved insight; knowledge which was proved, guaranteed, and\nunchangeable. \"Conscientiousness\" tends rather to fix attention upon\nthat voluntary attitude which is interested in _discovery_.\n\nThis implies a pretty radical change in wisdom as virtue. In the older\nsense it is an attainment; something possessed. In the modern, it\nresides in the active desire and effort, in pursuit rather than in\npossession. The _attainment_ of knowledge varies with original\nintellectual endowment; with opportunity for leisurely reflection; with\nall sorts of external conditions. Possession is a _class_ idea and tends\nto mark off a moral aristocracy from a common herd. Since the activities\nof the latter must be directed, on this assumption, by attained\nknowledge, its practical outcome is the necessity of the regulation of\ntheir conduct by the wisdom possessed by the superior class. When,\nhowever, the morally important thing is the desire and effort to\ndiscover the good, every one is on the same plane, in spite of\ndifferences in intellectual endowment and in learning.\n\nMoral knowing, as a fundamental or cardinal aspect of virtue, is\nthen the completeness of the interest in good exhibited in effort\nto discover the good. Since knowing involves two factors, a direct\nand an indirect, conscientiousness involves both _sensitiveness_ and\n_reflectiveness_.[195]\n\n=(1) Moral Sensitiveness.=--The individual who is not directly aware of\nthe presence of values needing to be perpetuated or achieved, in the\nthings and persons about him, is hard and callous or tough. A \"tender\"\nconscience is one which is immediately responsive to the presentation of\ngood and evil. The modern counterpart to the Socratic doctrine that\nignorance is the root of vice, is that being morally \"cold\" or \"dead,\"\nbeing indifferent to moral distinctions, is the most hopeless of all\nconditions. One who cares, even if he cares in the wrong way, has at\nleast a spring that may be touched; the one who is just irresponsive\noffers no leverage for correction or improvement.\n\n=(2) Thoughtfulness.=--While the possession of such an immediate,\nunreflective responsiveness to elements of good and bad must be the\nmainstay of moral wisdom, the character which lies back of these\nintuitive apprehensions must be thoughtful and serious-minded. There is\nno individual who, however morally sensitive, can dispense with cool,\ncalm reflection, or whose intuitive judgments, if reliable, are not\nlargely the funded outcome of prior thinking. Every voluntary act is\nintelligent: i.e., includes an idea of the end to be reached or the\nconsequences to accrue. Such ends are ideal in the sense that they are\npresent to thought, not to sense. But special ends, because they are\nlimited, are not what we mean by ideals. They are specific. With the\ngrowth of the habit of reflection, agents become conscious that the\nvalues of their particular ends are not circumscribed, but extend far\nbeyond the special case in question; so far indeed that their range of\ninfluence cannot be foreseen or defined. A kindly act may not only have\nthe particular consequence of relieving present suffering, but may make\na difference in the entire life of its recipient, or may set in\nradically different directions the interest and attention of the one who\nperforms it. These larger and remoter values in any moral act transcend\nthe end which was consciously present to its doer. The person has always\nto aim at something definite, but as he becomes aware of this penumbra\nor atmosphere of far-reaching ulterior values the meaning of his special\nact is thereby deepened and widened. An act is outwardly temporary and\ncircumstantial, but its meaning is permanent and expansive. The act\npasses away; but its significance abides in the increment of meaning\ngiven to further growth. To live in the recognition of this deeper\nmeaning of acts is to live in the ideal, in the only sense in which it\nis profitable for man to dwell in the ideal.\n\n_Our \"ideals,\" our types of excellence, are the various ways in which we\nfigure to ourselves the outreaching and ever-expanding values of our\nconcrete acts._ Every achievement of good deepens and quickens our sense\nof the inexhaustible value contained in every right act. With\nachievement, our conception of the possible goods of life increases,\nand we find ourselves called to live upon a still deeper and more\nthoughtful plane. An ideal is not some remote all-exhaustive goal, a\nfixed _summum bonum_ with respect to which other things are only means.\nIt is not something to be placed in contrast to the direct, local, and\ntangible quality of our actual situations, so that by contrast these\nlatter are lightly esteemed as insignificant. On the contrary, an ideal\nis the conviction that each of these special situations carries with it\na final value, a meaning which in itself is unique and inexhaustible. To\nset up \"ideals\" of perfection which are other than the serious\nrecognition of the possibilities of development resident in each\nconcrete situation, is in the end to pay ourselves with\nsentimentalities, if not with words, and meanwhile it is to direct\nthought and energy away from the situations which need and which welcome\nthe perfecting care of attention and affection.\n\n=Thoughtfulness and Progress.=--This sense of wider values than those\ndefinitely apprehended or definitely attained is a constant warning to\nthe individual not to be content with an accomplishment.\nConscientiousness takes more and more the form of interest in\nimprovement, in progress. Conscientiousness as sensitiveness may rest\nupon the plane of already secured satisfactions, upon discriminating\nwith accuracy their quality and degree. As thoughtfulness, it will\nalways be on the lookout for the better. The good man not only measures\nhis acts by a standard, but he is concerned to revise his standard. His\nsense of the ideal, of the undefinable because ever-expanding value of\nspecial deeds, forbids his resting satisfied with any formulated\nstandard; for the very formulation gives the standard a technical\nquality, while the good can be maintained only in enlarging excellence.\nThe highest form of conscientiousness is interest in constant progress.\n\n=Love and Courage Required for Thoughtfulness.=--We may close this\nchapter by repeating what we have already noted, that genuine moral\nknowledge involves the affections and the resolute will as well as the\nintelligence. We cannot know the varied elements of value in the lives\nof others and in the possibilities of our own, save as our affections\nare strong. Every narrowing of love, every encroachment of egoism, means\njust so much blindness to the good. The man who pleads \"good motives\" as\nexcuse for acts which injure others is always one whose absorption in\nhimself has wrought harm to his powers of perception. Every widening of\ncontact with others, every deepening of the level of sympathetic\nacquaintance, magnifies in so much vision of the good. Finally, the\nchief ally of moral thoughtfulness is the resolute courage of\nwillingness to face the evil for the sake of the good. Shrinking from\napprehension of the evil to others consequent upon our behavior, because\nsuch realization would demand painful effort to change our own plans and\nhabits, maintains habitual dimness and narrowness of moral vision.\n\n\nLITERATURE\n\nUpon the principle of virtue in general, see Plato, _Republic_, 427-443;\nAristotle, _Ethics_, Books II. and IV.; Kant, _Theory of Ethics_\n(Abbott's trans.), pp. 164-182, 305, 316-322; Green, _Prolegomena_, pp.\n256-314 (and for conscientiousness, 323-337); Paulsen, _System of\nEthics_, pp. 475-482; Alexander, _Moral Order and Progress_, pp.\n242-253; Ladd, _Philosophy of Conduct_, chs. x. and xiv.; Stephen,\n_Science of Ethics_, ch. v.; Spencer, _Principles of Ethics_, Vol. II.,\npp. 3-34 and 263-276; Sidgwick, _Methods of Ethics_, pp. 2-5 and 9-10;\nRickaby, _Aquinas Ethicus_, Vol. I., pp. 155-195; Mezes, _Ethics_, chs.\nix. and xvi.\n\nFor natural ability and virtue: Hume, _Treatise_, Part II., Book III.,\nand _Inquiry_, Appendix IV.; Bonar, _Intellectual Virtues_.\n\nFor discussions of special virtues: Aristotle, _Ethics_, Book III., and\nBook VII., chs. i.-x.; for justice: Aristotle, _Ethics_, Book V.;\nRickaby, _Moral Philosophy_, pp. 102-108, and _Aquinas Ethicus_ (see\nIndex); Paulsen, _System of Ethics_, pp. 599-637; Mezes, _Ethics_, ch.\nxiii.; Mill, _Utilitarianism_, ch. v.; Sidgwick, _Methods of Ethics_,\nBook III., ch. v., and see Index; also criticism of Spencer in his\n_Lectures on the Ethics of Green, Spencer and Martineau_, pp. 272-302;\nSpencer, _Principles of Ethics_, Vol. II.; Stephen, _Science of Ethics_,\nch. v.\n\nFor benevolence, see Aristotle, _Ethics_, Books VII.-IX. (on\nfriendship); Rickaby, _Moral Philosophy_, pp. 237-244, and _Aquinas\nEthicus_ (see charity and almsgiving in Index); Paulsen, _System_, chs.\nviii. and x. of Part III.; Mezes, _Ethics_, ch. xii.; Sidgwick,\n_Methods of Ethics_, Book II., ch. iv.; Spencer, _Principles of Ethics_,\nVol. II.; see also the references under sympathy and altruism at end of\nch. xviii. Courage and temperance are discussed in chs. x. and xi. of\nMezes; in pp. 485-504 of Paulsen; pp. 327-336 of Sidgwick; ch. xi. of\nLadd's _Philosophy of Conduct_.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[184] This is, of course, the point made in ch. iv. on \"_Customs or\nMores_,\" save that there the emphasis was upon the epoch of customary as\ndistinct from the reflective morals, while here it is upon the customary\nfactor in the present.\n\n[185] This fact might be employed to reenforce our prior conclusion that\nmoral rules, classifications, etc., are not of final importance but are\nof value in clarifying and judging individual acts and situations. Not\nthe rule, but the use which the person makes of the rule in approving\nand disapproving himself and others, is the significant thing.\n\n[186] Less is said on this point because this phase of the matter has\nbeen covered in the discussion of self-denial in the previous chapter.\nSee pp. 364-68.\n\n[187] Strict hedonism would tend to reduce all virtue to prudence--the\ncalculation of subtler and remoter consequences and the control of\npresent behavior by its outcome.\n\n[188] Says Hazlitt, \"The charm of criminal life, like that of savage\nlife, consists in liberty, in hardship, in danger, and in the contempt\nof death: in one word, in _extraordinary excitement_\" (Essay on\nBentham). But this is equally true in principle (though not in degree)\nof every temptation to turn from the straight and narrow path. Virtue\nseems dull and sober, uninteresting, in comparison with the increasing\nexcitation of some desire. There are as many forms of excitement as\nthere are individual men.\n\n[189] There is something of the nature of gambling, of taking chances on\nfuture results for the sake of present stimulation, in all unrestraint\nor intemperate action. And the reflection of the specialist--that is,\nthe one whose reflection is not subjected to responsible tests in social\nbehavior--is a more or less exciting adventure--a \"speculation.\"\n\n[190] In the last words of Spinoza's _Ethics_, \"No one delights in the\ngood because he curbs his appetites, but because we delight in the good\nwe are able to curb our lusts.\"\n\n[191] What has been said about Self-assertion, in the last chapter,\nanticipates in some measure what holds of this virtue.\n\n[192] See Sumner, _Folkways_, ch. xx.\n\n[193] Upon this point see James, _Principles of Psychology_, Vol. II.,\npp. 561-567, and Royce, _World and Individual_, Vol. II., pp. 354-360.\n\n[194] This receives more attention in ch. xxi. of Part III.\n\n[195] Compare what was said concerning the intuitive and the discursive\nfactors in moral knowledge in ch. xvi.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nPART III\n\nTHE WORLD OF ACTION\n\n\nGENERAL LITERATURE FOR PART III\n\nAddams, _Democracy and Social Ethics_, 1902, _Newer Ideals of Peace_,\n1907; Santayana, _The Life of Reason_, Vol. II., 1905; Bergmann, _Ethik\nals Kulturphilosophie_, 1904, especially pp. 154-304; Wundt, _Ethics_,\nVol. III., _The Principles of Morality and the Departments of the Moral\nLife_ (trans. 1901); Spencer, _Principles of Ethics_, 1893, Vol. II.,\n_Principles of Sociology_, 1882, Vol. I., Part II.; Ritchie, _Studies in\nPolitical and Moral Philosophy_, 1888; Bosanquet, _Philosophical Theory\nof the State_, 1899; Willoughby, _Social Justice_, 1900; Cooley, _Human\nNature and the Social Order_, 1902; Paulsen, _System der Ethik_, 5th\ned., 1900, Book IV.; Runze, _Praktische Ethik_, 1891; Janet, _Histoire\nde la Science Politique dans ses Rapports avec la Morale_, 3d ed., 1887;\nPlato, _The Republic_; Aristotle, _Ethics_, Book V., and _Politics_\n(trans. by Welldon, 1883); Hegel, _Philosophy of Right_ (pub. 1820,\ntrans. by Dyde, 1896); Mackenzie, _An Introduction to Social\nPhilosophy_, 1890; Dunning, _History of Political Theories_, Vol. I.,\n1902, Vol. II., 1905; Stein, _Die Sociale Frage im Licht der\nPhilosophie_, 1897.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX\n\nSOCIAL ORGANIZATION AND THE INDIVIDUAL\n\n\n=Object of Part and Chapter.=--The history of morals manifests a twofold\nmovement. It reveals, on one side, constantly increasing stress on\n_individual_ intelligence and affection. The transformation of customary\ninto reflective morals is the change from \"Do those things which our\nkin, class, or city do\" to \"Be a person with certain habits of desire\nand deliberation.\" The moral history of the race also reveals constantly\ngrowing emphasis upon the _social_ nature of the objects and ends to\nwhich personal preferences are to be devoted. While the agent has been\nlearning that it is his personal attitude which counts in his deeds, he\nhas also learnt that there is no attitude which is exclusively private\nin scope, none which does not need to be socially valued or judged.\nTheoretic analysis enforces the same lesson as history. It tells us that\nmoral quality _resides in_ the habitual dispositions of an agent; and\nthat it _consists of_ the tendency of these dispositions to secure (or\nhinder) values which are sociably shared or sharable.\n\nIn Part One we sketched the historical course of this development; in\nPart Two we traced its theoretic analysis. In the present and concluding\nPart, our purpose is to consider the distinctively social aspects of\nmorality. We shall consider how social institutions and tendencies\nsupply value to the activities of individuals, impose the conditions of\nthe formation and exercise of their desires and aims; and, especially,\nhow they create the peculiarly urgent problems of contemporary moral\nlife. The present chapter will take up the general question, that of\nthe relation of social organization to individual life.\n\n\nSec. 1. GROWTH OF INDIVIDUALITY THROUGH SOCIAL ORGANIZATIONS\n\nFrom one point of view, historic development represents the increasing\nliberation of individual powers from rigid social control. Sir John\nLubbock remarks: \"No savage is free. All over the world his daily life\nis regulated by a complicated and apparently most inconvenient set of\ncustoms (as forcible as laws), of quaint prohibitions and privileges.\"\nLooked at from another point of view, emancipation from one sort of\nsocial organization means initiation into some other social order; the\nindividual is liberated from a small and fixed (customary) social group,\nto become a member of a larger and progressive society. The history of\nsetting free individual power in desire, thought, and initiative is,\nupon the whole, the history of the formation of more complex and\nextensive social organizations. Movements that look like the\ndisintegration of the order of society, when viewed with reference to\nwhat has preceded them, are factors in the construction of a new social\norder, which allows freer play to individuals, and yet increases the\nnumber of social groupings and the depth of social combinations.\n\nThis fact of historical development is well summed up in the following\nwords of Hobhouse, set forth as a summary of a comprehensive survey of\nthe historic development of law and justice, of the family including the\nstatus of women and children, of the relations between communities, and\nbetween classes, the rich and the poor.\n\n    He says: \"Amid all the variety of social institutions and the ebb\n    and flow of historical change, it is possible in the end to detect\n    a double movement, marking the transition from the lower to the\n    higher levels of civilized law and custom. On the one hand, the\n    social order is strengthened and extended.... On this side the\n    individual human being becomes more and more subject to social\n    constraint, and, as we have frequently seen, the changes making\n    for the tightening of the social fabric may diminish the rights\n    which the individual or large classes of individuals can claim....\n    In this relation liberty and order become opposed. But the\n    opposition is not essential. From the first the individual relies\n    on social forces to maintain him in his rights, and in the higher\n    form of social organization we have seen order and liberty drawing\n    together again.... The best ordered community is that which\n    gives most scope to its component members to make the best of\n    themselves, while the 'best' in human nature is that which\n    contributes to the harmony and onward movement of society....\n    The responsible human being, man or woman, is the center of\n    modern ethics as of modern law, free so far as custom and law are\n    concerned to make his own life.... The social nature of man is not\n    diminished either on the side of its needs or its duties by the\n    fuller recognition of personal rights. The difference is that,\n    so far as rights and duties are conceived as attaching to human\n    beings as such, they become universalized, _and are therefore the\n    care of society as a whole rather than of any partial group\n    organization_.\"[196]\n\nWith this statement may be compared the words of Green and Alexander.\nAccording to Green, moral progress consists in the _extension_ of the\narea or range of persons whose common good is concerned, and in the\ndeepening or _intensification_ in the individual of his social interest:\n\"the settled disposition on each man's part to make the most and best of\nhumanity in his own person and in the person of others.\"[197]\nAlexander's formulae for moral growth are the \"laws of differentiation\nand of comprehension.\" The first means diversification, specialization,\ndifferentiating the powers of an individual with increased refinement of\neach. The law of comprehension means the steady enlargement of the size\nand scope of the social group (as from clan to modern national state)\nwith its increased complexity of ways in which men are brought into\ncontact with one another.[198]\n\n=Social Life Liberates and Directs Individual Energies.=--Breadth in\nextent of community life goes hand in hand with multiplication of the\nstimuli which call out an individual's powers. Diversification of social\nactivities increases opportunities for his initiative and endeavor.\nNarrow and meager social life means limitation of the scope of\nactivities in which its members may engage. It means little occasion for\nthe exercise of deliberation and choice, without which character is both\nimmature and fossilized; it means, in short, restricted personality. But\na rich and varied society, one which liberates powers otherwise torpid\nand latent, also exacts that they be employed in ways consistent with\nits own interests. A society which is extensive and complex would\ndissolve in anarchy and confusion were not the activities of its various\nmembers upon the whole mutually congruent. The world of action is a\nworld of which the individual is one limit, and humanity the other;\nbetween them lie all sorts of associative arrangements of lesser and\nlarger scope, families, friendships, schools, clubs, organizations for\nmaking or distributing goods, for gathering and supplying commodities;\nactivities politically organized by parishes, wards, villages, cities,\ncountries, states, nations. Every maladjustment in relations among these\ninstitutions and associated activities means loss and friction in the\nrelations between individuals; and thereby introduces defect, division,\nand restriction into the various powers which constitute an individual.\nAll harmonious cooperation among them means a fuller life and greater\nfreedom of thought and action for the individual person.\n\nO=rder and Laws.=--The world of action as a scene of organized\nactivities going on in regular ways[199] thus presents a public or\ncommon order and authority, with its established modes of operation, its\nlaws. Organized institutions, from the more permanent to the more\ncasual, with their orderly rules of conduct, are not, of course, prior\nto individual activity; for their elements are individual activities\nrelated in certain ways. But with respect to _any one_ individual in his\nseparate or distributive capacity, there is a genuine and important\nsense in which the institution comes first. A child is born into an\nalready existing family with habits and beliefs already formed, not\nindeed rigid beyond readaptation, but with their own order\n(arrangements). He goes to schools which have their established methods\nand aims; he gradually assumes membership in business, civic, and\npolitical organizations, with their own settled ways and purposes. Only\nin participating in already fashioned systems of conduct does he\napprehend his own powers, appreciate their worth and realize their\npossibilities, and achieve for himself a controlled and orderly body of\nphysical and mental habits. He finds the value and the principles of his\nlife, his satisfaction and his norms of authority, in being a member of\nassociated groups of persons and in playing his part in their\nmaintenance and expansion.\n\n=The Social and the Moral.=--In customary society, it does not occur to\nany one that there is a difference between what he ought to do, i.e.,\nthe moral, and what those about him customarily do, i.e., the social.\nThe socially established is the moral. Reflective morality brings with\nit, as we have seen, a distinction. A thoughtfully minded person reacts\nagainst certain institutions and habits which obtain in his social\nenvironment; he regards certain ideas, which he frames himself and which\nare not embodied in social habits, as more moral than anything existing\nabout him. Such reactions against custom and such projections of new\nideas are necessary if there is to be progress in society. But\nunfortunately it has often been forgotten that this distinctly\n_personal_ morality, which takes its stand against some established\nusage, and which, therefore, for the time being has its abode only in\nthe initiative and effort of an individual, is simply the means of\n_social_ reconstruction. It is treated as if it were an end in itself,\nand as if it were something higher than any morality which is or can be\nsocially embodied.\n\nAt some periods, this view has led to a monastic retreat from all social\naffairs for the sake of cultivating personal goodness. At other times,\nit has led to the political indifference of the Cynic and Stoic. For\nages, it led to a morality of \"other worldliness\"; to the belief that\ntrue goodness can be attained only in another kind of life and world--a\nbelief which carried with it relative contempt and neglect of concrete\nsocial conditions in this life. Social affairs at best were only\n\"secular\" and temporal, and, in contrast with the eternal and spiritual\nsalvation of the individual's own soul, of little account. After the\nRenaissance and the Protestant Revolt, this kind of moral individualism\npersisted in different forms. Among the hedonists, it took the form of\nassuming that while social arrangements are of very great importance,\ntheir importance lies in the fact that they hinder or help individuals\nin the attainment of their own private pleasures. The transcendentalists\n(such as Kant) asserted that, since morality is wholly a matter of the\ninner motive, of the personal attitude towards the moral law, social\nconditions are wholly external. Good or evil lies wholly inside the\nindividual's own will. Social institutions may help or hinder the\noutward _execution_ of moral purpose; they may be favorable or hostile\nto the successful outward display of virtue. But they have nothing to do\nwith originating or developing the moral purpose, the Good Will, and\nhence, in themselves, are lacking in moral significance. Thus Kant made\na sharp and fast distinction between _morality_, appertaining solely to\nthe individual's own inner consciousness, and _legality_, appertaining\nto the social and political conditions of outward behavior. Social\ninstitutions and laws may indeed regulate men's outer acts. So far as\nmen externally conform, their conduct is legal. But laws cannot regulate\nor touch men's motives, which alone determine the morality of their\nbehavior.\n\nWe shall not repeat here our prior criticisms of hedonism and\nutilitarianism in order to point out the falsity of this division of\nmoral action into unrelated inner (or private) and outer (or social)\nfactors. We may recall to memory, however, that Kant himself virtually\npassed beyond his own theory of moral individualism in insisting upon\nthe promotion of a \"Kingdom of Ends,\" in which every person is to be\ntreated as an end in himself. We may recall that the later utilitarians\n(such as Mill, Leslie Stephen, Bain, and Spencer) insisted upon the\n_educative_ value of social institutions, upon their importance in\nforming certain interests and habits in the individual. Thus social\narrangements were taken out of the category of mere means to private\ngood, and made the necessary factors and conditions of the development\nof an individuality which should have a reasonable and just conception\nof its own nature and of its own good. We may also enumerate some of the\nmore fundamental ways in which social institutions determine individual\nmorality.\n\n1. Apart from the social medium, the individual would never \"know\nhimself\"; he would never become acquainted with his own needs and\ncapacities. He would live the life of a brute animal, satisfying as best\nhe could his most urgent appetites of hunger, thirst, and sex, but\nbeing, as regards even that, handicapped in comparison with other\nanimals. And, as we have already seen, the wider and the richer the\nsocial relationships into which an individual enters, the more fully are\nhis powers evoked, and the more fully is he brought to recognize the\npossibilities latent in them. It is from seeing noble architecture and\nhearing harmonious music that the individual learns to know to what his\nown constructive and rhythmic tendencies, otherwise blind and inchoate,\nmay come. It is from achievement in industrial, national, and family\nlife that he is initiated into perception of his own energy, loyalty,\nand affection.\n\n2. Social conditions not only evoke what is latent, and bring to\nconscious recognition what is blind, but they select, encourage, and\nconfirm certain tendencies at the expense of others. They enable the\nindividual to discriminate the better and the worse among his tendencies\nand achievements. There is no limit in the power of society to awaken\nand strengthen this habit of discrimination, of choice after comparison,\nin its individual members. A small social group with fixed habits, a\nclan, a gang, a narrow sect, a dogmatic party, will restrict the\nformation of critical powers--i.e., of conscientiousness or moral\nthoughtfulness. But an individual who _really_ becomes a member of\nmodern society, with its multiple occupations, its easy intercourse, its\nfree mobility, its rich resources of art and science, will have only too\nmany opportunities for reflective judgment and personal valuation and\npreference. _The very habits of individual moral initiative, of personal\ncriticism of the existent order, and of private projection of a better\norder, to which moral individualists point as proofs of the purely\n\"inner\" nature of morality, are themselves effects of a variable and\ncomplex social order._\n\n=The Moral Value of the State.=--If then we take modern social life in\nits broadest extent, as including not only what has become\ninstitutionalized and more or less fossilized, but also what is still\ngrowing (forming and re-forming), we may justly say that it is as true\nof progressive as of stationary society, that the moral and the social\nare one. The virtues of the individual in a progressive society are more\nreflective, more critical, involve more exercise of comparison and\nselection, than in customary society. But they are just as socially\nconditioned in their origin and as socially directed in their\nmanifestation.\n\nIn rudimentary societies, customs furnish the highest ends of\nachievement; they supply the principles of social organization and\ncombination; and they form binding laws whose breach is punished. The\nmoral, political, and legal are not differentiated. But village\ncommunities and city-states, to say nothing of kingdoms and empires and\nmodern national States, have developed special organs and special\nregulations for maintaining social unity and public order. Small groups\nare usually firmly welded together and are exclusive. They have a narrow\nbut intense social code:--like a patriarchal family, a gang, a social\nset, they are clannish. But when a large number of such groups come\ntogether within a more inclusive social unity, some institution grows up\nto represent the interests and activities of the whole as against the\nnarrow and centrifugal tendencies of the constituent factors. A society\nis then _politically_ organized; and a true public order with its\ncomprehensive laws is brought into existence. The moral importance of\nthe development of this public point of view, with its extensive common\npurposes and with a general will for maintaining them, can hardly be\noverestimated. Without such organization, society and hence morality\nwould remain sectional, jealous, suspicious, unfraternal. Sentiments of\nintense cohesion within would have been conjoined with equally strong\nsentiments of indifference, intolerance, and hostility to those without.\nIn the wake of the formation of States have followed more widely\nco-operative activities, more comprehensive and hence more reasonable\nprinciples of judgment and outlook. The individual has been emancipated\nfrom his relative submergence in the local and fixed group, and set upon\nhis own feet, with varied fields of activity open to him in which to try\nhis powers, and furnished with principles of judging conduct and\nprojecting ideals which in theory, at least, are as broad as the\npossibilities of humanity itself.\n\n\nSec. 2. RESPONSIBILITY AND FREEDOM\n\nThe more comprehensive and diversified the social order, the greater the\nresponsibility and the freedom of the individual. His freedom is the\ngreater, because the more numerous are the effective stimuli to action,\nand the more varied and the more certain the ways in which he may\nfulfill his powers. His responsibility is greater because there are more\ndemands for considering the consequences of his acts; and more agencies\nfor bringing home to him the recognition of consequences which affect\nnot merely more persons individually, but which also influence the more\nremote and hidden social ties.\n\n=Liability.=--Freedom and responsibility have a relatively superficial\nand negative meaning and a relatively positive central meaning. In its\nexternal aspect, responsibility is _liability_. An agent is free to act;\nyes, but--. He must stand the consequences, the disagreeable as well as\nthe pleasant, the social as well as the physical. He may do a given act,\nbut if so, let him look out. His act is a matter that concerns others as\nwell as himself, and they will prove their concern by calling him to\naccount; and if he cannot give a satisfactory and credible account of\nhis intention, subject him to correction. Each community and\norganization informs its members what it regards as obnoxious, and\nserves notice upon them that they have to answer if they offend. The\nindividual then is (1) likely or liable to have to explain and justify\nhis behavior, and is (2) liable or open to suffering consequent upon\ninability to make his explanation acceptable.\n\n=Positive Responsibility.=--In this way the individual is made aware of\nthe stake the community has in his behavior; and is afforded an\nopportunity to take that interest into account in directing his desires\nand making his plans. If he does so, he is a responsible person. The\nagent who does not take to heart the concern which others show that they\nhave in his conduct, will note his liability only as an evil to which he\nis exposed, and will take it into consideration only to see how to\nescape or evade it. But one whose point of view is sympathetic and\nreasonable will recognize the justice of the community interest in his\nperformances; and will recognize the value to him of the instruction\ncontained in its assertions of its interest. Such an one responds,\nanswers, to the social demands made; he is not merely called to answer.\nHe holds himself responsible for the consequences of his acts; he does\nnot wait to be held liable by others. When society looks for responsible\nworkmen, teachers, doctors, it does not mean merely those whom it may\ncall to account; it can do that in any case. It wants men and women who\nhabitually form their purposes after consideration of the social\nconsequences of their execution. Dislike of disapprobation, fear of\npenalty, play a part in generating this responsive habit; but fear,\noperating directly, occasions only cunning or servility. Fused, through\nreflection, with other motives which prompt to action, it helps bring\nabout that apprehensiveness, or susceptibility to the rights of others,\nwhich is the essence of responsibility, which in turn is the sole\n_ultimate_ guarantee of social order.\n\n=The Two Senses of Freedom.=--In its external aspect, freedom is\nnegative and formal. It signifies freedom _from_ subjection to the will\nand control of others; exemption from bondage; release from servitude;\ncapacity to act without being exposed to direct obstructions or\ninterferences from others. It means a clear road, cleared of\nimpediments, for action. It contrasts with the limitations of prisoner,\nslave, and serf, who have to carry out the will of others.\n\n=Effective Freedom.=--Exemption from restraint and from interference\nwith overt action is only a condition, though an absolutely\nindispensable one, of effective freedom. The latter requires (1)\npositive control of the resources necessary to carry purposes into\neffect, possession of the means to satisfy desires; and (2) mental\nequipment with the trained powers of initiative and reflection requisite\nfor free preference and for circumspect and far-seeing desires. The\nfreedom of an agent who is merely released from direct external\nobstructions is formal and empty. If he is without resources of personal\nskill, without control of the tools of achievement, he must inevitably\nlend himself to carrying out the directions and ideas of others. If he\nhas not powers of deliberation and invention, he must pick up his ideas\ncasually and superficially from the suggestions of his environment and\nappropriate the notions which the interests of some class insinuate into\nhis mind. If he have not powers of intelligent self-control, he will be\nin bondage to appetite, enslaved to routine, imprisoned within the\nmonotonous round of an imagery flowing from illiberal interests, broken\nonly by wild forays into the illicit.\n\n=Legal and Moral.=--Positive responsibility and freedom may be regarded\nas moral, while liability and exemption are legal and political. A\nparticular individual at a given time is possessed of certain secured\nresources in execution and certain formed habits of desire and\nreflection. In so far, he is positively free. Legally, his sphere of\nactivity may be very much wider. The laws, the prevailing body of rules\nwhich define existing institutions, would protect him in exercising\nclaims and powers far beyond those which he can actually put forth. He\nis exempt from interference in travel, in reading, in hearing music, in\npursuing scientific research. But if he has neither material means nor\nmental cultivation to enjoy these legal possibilities, mere exemption\nmeans little or nothing. It does, however, create a moral demand that\nthe practical limitations which hem him in should be removed; that\npractical conditions should be afforded which will enable him\neffectively to take advantage of the opportunities formally open.\nSimilarly, at any given time, the liabilities to which an individual is\nactually held come far short of the accountability to which the more\nconscientious members of society hold themselves. The morale of the\nindividual is in advance of the formulated morality, or legality, of the\ncommunity.\n\n=Relation of Legal to Moral.=--It is, however, absurd to separate the\nlegal and the ideal aspects of freedom from one another. It is only as\nmen are held liable that they become responsible; even the conscientious\nman, however much in some respects his demands upon himself exceed those\nwhich would be enforced against him by others, still needs in other\nrespects to have his unconscious partiality and presumption steadied by\nthe requirements of others. He needs to have his judgment balanced\nagainst crankiness, narrowness, or fanaticism, by reference to the\nsanity of the common standard of his times. It is only as men are exempt\nfrom external obstruction that they become aware of possibilities, and\nare awakened to demand and strive to obtain more positive freedom. Or,\nagain, it is the possession by the more favored individuals in society\nof an effectual freedom to do and to enjoy things with respect to which\nthe masses have only a formal and legal freedom, that arouses a sense of\ninequity, and that stirs the social judgment and will to such reforms of\nlaw, of administration and economic conditions as will transform the\nempty freedom of the less favored individuals into constructive\nrealities.\n\n\nSec. 3. RIGHTS AND OBLIGATIONS\n\n=The Individual and Social in Rights and Obligations.=--That which,\ntaken at large or in a lump, is called freedom breaks up in detail into\na number of specific, concrete abilities to act in particular ways.\nThese are termed _rights_. Any right includes within itself in intimate\nunity the individual and social aspects of activity upon which we have\nbeen insisting. As a capacity for exercise of power, it resides in and\nproceeds from some special agent, some individual. As exemption from\nrestraint, a secured release from obstruction, it indicates at least the\npermission and sufferance of society, a tacit social assent and\nconfirmation; while any more positive and energetic effort on the part\nof the community to guarantee and safeguard it, indicates an active\nacknowledgment on the part of society that the free exercise by\nindividuals of the power in question is positively in its own interest.\nThus a right, individual in residence, is social in origin and intent.\nThe social factor in rights is made explicit in the demand that the\npower in question be exercised in certain ways. A right is never a claim\nto a wholesale, indefinite activity, but to a _defined_ activity; _to\none carried on_, that is, _under certain conditions_. This limitation\nconstitutes the _obligatory_ phases of every right. The individual is\nfree; yes, that is his right. But he is free to act only according to\ncertain regular and established conditions. That is the obligation\nimposed upon him. He has a right to use public roads, but he is obliged\nto turn in a certain way. He has a right to use his property, but he is\nobliged to pay taxes, to pay debts, not to harm others in its use, and\nso on.\n\n=Correspondence of Rights and Obligations.=--Rights and obligations are\nthus strictly correlative. This is true both in their external\nemployment and in their intrinsic natures. Externally the individual is\nunder obligation to use his right in a way which does not interfere with\nthe rights of others. He is free to drive on the public highways, but\nnot to exceed a certain speed, and on condition that he turns to right\nor left as the public order requires. He is entitled to the land which\nhe has bought, but this possession is subject to conditions of public\nregistration and taxation. He may use his property, but not so that it\nmenaces others or becomes a nuisance. Absolute rights, if we mean by\nabsolute those not relative to any social order and hence exempt from\nany social restriction, there are none. But rights correspond even more\nintrinsically to obligations. The right is itself a social outcome: it\nis the individual's in so far as he is himself a social member not\nmerely physically, but in his habits of thought and feeling. He is under\nobligation to use his rights in social ways. The more we emphasize the\nfree right of an individual to his property, the more we emphasize what\nsociety has done for him: the avenues it has opened to him for\nacquiring; the safeguards it has put about him for keeping; the wealth\nachieved by others which he may acquire by exchanges themselves socially\nbuttressed. So far as an individual's own merits are concerned these\nopportunities and protections are \"unearned increments,\" no matter what\ncredit he may deserve for initiative and industry and foresight in using\nthem. The only fundamental anarchy is that which regards rights as\nprivate monopolies, ignoring their social origin and intent.\n\n=Classes of Rights and Obligations.=--We may discuss freedom and\nresponsibility with respect to the social organization which secures and\nenforces them; or from the standpoint of the individual who exercises\nand acknowledges them. From the latter standpoint, rights are\nconveniently treated as physical and mental: not that the physical and\nmental can be separated, but that emphasis may fall primarily on control\nof the conditions required to execute ideas and intentions, or upon the\ncontrol of the conditions involved in their personal formation and\nchoice. From the standpoint of the public order, rights and duties are\ncivil and political. We shall consider them in the next chapter in\nconnection with the organization of society in the State. Here we\nconsider rights as inhering in an individual in virtue of his membership\nin society.\n\n=I. Physical Rights.=--These are the rights to the free unharmed\npossession of the body (the rights to life and limb), exemption from\nhomicidal attack, from assault and battery, and from conditions that\nthreaten health in more obscure ways; and positively, the right to free\nmovement of the body, to use its members for any legitimate purpose, and\nthe right to unhindered locomotion. Without the exemption, there is no\nsecurity in life, no assurance; only a life of constant fear and\nuncertainty, of loss of limb, of injury from others, and of death.\nWithout some positive assurance, there is no chance of carrying ideas\ninto effect. Even if sound and healthy and extremely protected, a man\nlives a slave or prisoner. Right to the control and use of physical\nconditions of life takes effect then in property rights, command of the\nnatural tools and materials which are requisite to the maintenance of\nthe body in a due state of health and to an effective and competent use\nof the person's powers. These physical rights to life, limb, and\nproperty are so basic to all achievement and capability that they have\nfrequently been termed \"natural rights.\" They are so fundamental to the\nexistence of personality that their insecurity or infringement is a\ndirect menace to the social welfare. The struggle for human liberty and\nhuman responsibility has accordingly been more acute at this than at any\nother point. Roughly speaking, the history of personal liberty is the\nhistory of the efforts which have safeguarded the security of life and\nproperty and which have emancipated bodily movement from subjection to\nthe will of others.\n\n=Unsolved Problems: War and Punishment.=--While history marks great\nadvance, especially in the last four or five centuries, as to the\nnegative aspect of freedom or release from direct and overt tyranny,\nmuch remains undone on the positive side. It is at this point of free\nphysical control that all conflicts of rights concentrate themselves.\nWhile the limitation by war of the right to life may be cited as\nevidence for the fact that even this right is not absolute but is\nsocially conditioned, yet that kind of correspondence between individual\nactivity and social well-being which exacts exposure to destruction as\nits measure, is too suggestive of the tribal morality in which the\nsavage shows his social nature by participation in a blood feud, to be\nsatisfactory. Social organization is clearly defective when its\nconstituent portions are so set at odds with one another as to demand\nfrom individuals their death as their best service to the community.\nWhile one may cite capital punishment to enforce, as if in large type,\nthe fact that the individual holds even his right to life subject to the\nsocial welfare, the moral works the other way to underline the failure\nof society to socialize its members, and its tendency to put undesirable\nresults out of sight and mind rather than to face responsibility for\ncauses. The same limitation is seen in methods of imprisonment, which,\nwhile supposed to be protective rather than vindictive, recognize only\nin a few and sporadic cases that the sole sure protection of society is\nthrough education and correction of individual character, not by mere\nphysical isolation under harsh conditions.\n\n=Security of Life.=--In civilized countries the blood feud, infanticide,\nputting to death the economically useless and the aged, have been\nabolished. Legalized slavery, serfdom, the subjection of the rights of\nwife and child to the will of husband and father, have been done away\nwith. But many modern industries are conducted with more reference to\nfinancial gain than to life, and the annual roll of killed, injured, and\ndiseased in factory and railway practically equals the list of dead and\nwounded in a modern war.[200] Most of these accidents are preventable.\nThe willingness of parents on one side and of employers on the other,\nconjoined with the indifference of the general public, makes child-labor\nan effective substitute for exposure of children and other methods of\ninfanticide practiced by savage tribes. Agitation for old-age pensions\nshows that faithful service to society for a lifetime is still\ninadequate to secure a prosperous old age.\n\n=Charity and Poverty.=--Society provides assistance and remedial\nmeasures, poorhouses, asylums, hospitals. The exceedingly poor are a\npublic charge, supported by taxes as well as by alms. Individuals are\nnot supposed to die from starvation nor to suffer without any relief or\nassistance from physical defects and disease. So far, there is growth in\npositive provision for the right to live. But the very necessity for\nsuch extensive remedial measures shows serious defects farther back. It\nraises the question of social responsibility for the causes of such\nwholesale poverty and widespread misery. Taken in conjunction with the\nidleness and display of the congested rich, it raises the question how\nfar we are advanced beyond barbarism in making organic provision for an\neffective, as distinct from formal, right to life and movement. It is\nhard to say whether the heavier indictment lies in the fact that so many\nshirk their share of the necessary social labor and toil, or in the fact\nthat so many who are willing to work are unable to do so, without\nmeeting recurrent crises of unemployment, and except under conditions of\nhours, hygiene, compensation, and home conditions which reduce to a low\nlevel the positive rights of life. The social order protects the\nproperty of those who have it; but, although historic conditions have\nput the control of the machinery of production in the hands of a\ncomparatively few persons, society takes little heed to see that great\nmasses of men get even that little property which is requisite to secure\nassured, permanent, and properly stimulating conditions of life. Until\nthere is secured to and imposed upon all members of society the right\nand the duty of work in socially serviceable occupations, with due\nreturn in social goods, rights to life and free movement will hardly\nadvance much beyond their present largely nominal state.\n\n=II. Rights to Mental Activity.=--These rights of course are closely\nbound up with rights to physical well-being and activity. The latter\nwould have no meaning were it not that they subserve purposes and\naffections; while the life of mind is torpid or remote, dull or\nabstract, save as it gets impact in physical conditions and directs\nthem. Those who hold that the limitations of physical conditions have no\n_moral_ signification, and that their improvement brings at most an\nincrease of more or less materialistic comfort, not a moral advance,\nfail to note that the development of concrete purposes and desires is\ndependent upon so-called outward conditions. These conditions affect the\nexecution of purposes and wants; and this influence reacts to determine\nthe further arrest or growth of needs and resolutions. The sharp and\nunjustifiable antithesis of spiritual and material in the current\nconception of moral action leads many well-intentioned people to be\ncallous and indifferent to the moral issues involved in physical and\neconomic progress. Long hours of excessive physical labor, joined with\nunwholesome conditions of residence and work, restrict the growth of\nmental activity, while idleness and excess of physical possession and\ncontrol pervert mind, as surely as these causes modify the outer and\novert acts.\n\n=Freedom of Thought and Affection.=--The fundamental forms of the right\nto mental life are liberty of judgment and sympathy. The struggle for\nspiritual liberty has been as prolonged and arduous as that for physical\nfreedom. Distrust of intelligence and of love as factors in concrete\nindividuals has been strong even in those who have proclaimed most\nvigorously their devotion to them as abstract principles. Disbelief in\nthe integrity of mind, assertion that the divine principles of thought\nand love are perverted and corrupt in the individual, have kept\nspiritual authority and prestige in the hands of the few, just as other\ncauses have made material possessions the monopoly of a small class. The\nresulting restriction of knowledge and of the tools of inquiry have kept\nthe masses where their blindness and dullness might be employed as\nfurther evidence of their natural unfitness for personal illumination by\nthe light of truth and for free direction of the energy of moral\nwarmth.[201] Gradually, however, free speech, freedom of communication\nand intercourse, of public assemblies, liberty of the press and\ncirculation of ideas, freedom of religious and intellectual conviction\n(commonly called freedom of conscience), of worship, and to some extent\nthe right to education, to spiritual nurture, have been achieved. In the\ndegree the individual has won these liberties, the social order has\nobtained its chief safeguard against explosive change and intermittent\nblind action and reaction, and has got hold of the method of graduated\nand steady reconstruction. Looked at as a mere expedient, liberty of\nthought and expression is the most successful device ever hit upon for\nreconciling tranquillity with progress, so that peace is not sacrificed\nto reform nor improvement to stagnant conservatism.[202]\n\n=Right and Duty of Education.=--It is through education in its broadest\nsense that the right of thought and sympathy become effective. The\nfinal value of all institutions is their educational influence; they are\nmeasured morally by the occasions they afford and the guidance they\nsupply for the exercise of foresight, judgment, seriousness of\nconsideration, and depth of regard. The family, the school, the church,\nart, especially (to-day) literature, nurture the affections and\nimagination, while schools impart information and inculcate skill in\nvarious forms of intellectual technique. In the last one hundred years,\nthe right of each individual to spiritual self-development and\nself-possession, and the interest of society as a whole in seeing that\neach of its members has an opportunity for education, have been\nrecognized in publicly maintained schools with their ladder from\nkindergarten through the college to the engineering and professional\nschool. Men and women have had put at their disposal the materials and\ntools of judgment; have had opened to them the wide avenues of science,\nhistory, and art that lead into the larger world's culture. To some\nextent negative exemption from arbitrary restriction upon belief and\nthought has been developed into positive capacities of intelligence and\nsentiment.\n\n=Restrictions from Inadequate Economic Conditions.=--Freedom of thought\nin a developed constructive form is, however, next to impossible for the\nmasses of men so long as their economic conditions are precarious, and\ntheir main problem is to keep the wolf from their doors. Lack of time,\nhardening of susceptibility, blind preoccupation with the machinery of\nhighly specialized industries, the combined apathy and worry consequent\nupon a life maintained just above the level of subsistence, are\nunfavorable to intellectual and emotional culture. Intellectual\ncowardice, due to apathy, laziness, and vague apprehension, takes the\nplace of despotism as a limitation upon freedom of thought and speech.\nUncertainty as to security of position, the welfare of a dependent\nfamily, close men's mouths from expressing their honest convictions,\nand blind their minds to clear perception of evil conditions. The\ninstrumentalities of culture--churches, newspapers, universities,\ntheatres--themselves have economic necessities which tend to make them\ndependent upon those who can best supply their needs. The congestion of\npoverty on one side and of \"culture\" on the other is so great that, in\nthe words of a distinguished economist, we are still questioning\n\"whether it is really impossible that all should start in the world with\na fair chance of leading a cultured life free from the pains of poverty\nand the stagnating influences of a life of excessive mechanical\ntoil.\"[203] We provide free schools and pass compulsory education acts,\nbut actively and passively we encourage conditions which limit the mass\nof children to the bare rudiments of spiritual nurture.\n\n=Restriction of Educational Influences.=--Spiritual resources are\npractically as much the possession of a special class, in spite of\neducational advance, as are material resources. This fact reacts upon\nthe chief educative agencies--science, art, and religion. Knowledge in\nits ideas, language, and appeals is forced into corners; it is\noverspecialized, technical, and esoteric because of its isolation. Its\nlack of intimate connection with social practice leads to an intense and\nelaborate over-training which increases its own remoteness. Only when\nscience and philosophy are one with literature, the art of successful\ncommunication and vivid intercourse, are they liberal in effect; and\nthis implies a society which is already intellectually and emotionally\nnurtured and alive. Art itself, the embodiment of ideas in forms which\nare socially contagious, becomes what it is so largely, a development of\ntechnical skill, and a badge of class differences. Religious emotion,\nthe quickening of ideas and affections by recognition of their\ninexhaustible signification, is segregated into special cults,\nparticular days, and peculiar exercises, and the common life is left\nrelatively hard and barren.\n\nIn short, the limitations upon freedom both of the physical conditions\nand the mental values of life are at bottom expressions of one and the\nsame divorce of theory and practice,--which makes theory remote,\nsterile, and technical, while practice remains narrow, harsh, and also\nilliberal. Yet there is more cause for hope in that so much has been\naccomplished, than for despondency because mental power and service are\nstill so limited and undeveloped. The intermixture and interaction of\nclasses and nations are very recent. Hence the opportunities for an\neffective circulation of sympathetic ideas and of reasonable emotions\nhave only newly come into existence. Education as a public interest and\ncare, applicable to all individuals, is hardly more than a century old;\nwhile a conception of the richness and complexity of the ways in which\nit should touch any one individual is hardly half a century old. As\nsociety takes its educative functions more seriously and comprehensively\ninto account, there is every promise of more rapid progress in the\nfuture than in the past. For education is most effective when dealing\nwith the immature, those who have not yet acquired the hard and fixed\ndirecting forms of adult life; while, in order to be effectively\nemployed, it must select and propagate that which is common and hence\ntypical in the social values that form its resources, leaving the\neccentric, the partial, and exclusive gradually to dwindle. Upon some\ngenerous souls of the eighteenth century there dawned the idea that the\ncause of the indefinite improvement of humanity and the cause of the\nlittle child are inseparably bound together.\n\n\nLITERATURE\n\nKant, _Philosophy of Law_, 1796 (trans. by Hastie, 1887); Fichte, _The\nScience of Rights_, 1798 (trans. by Kroeger, 1869); Rousseau, _Social\nContract_, 1762 (trans. by Tozer, 1893); Bonar, _Philosophy and\nPolitical Economy_, 1893; Stephen, _Science of Ethics_, ch. iii. (on\nSocial Motives); Caird, _Social Philosophy of Comte_, 1885; Sidgwick,\n_Practical Ethics_, 1898, Essay on Public Morality; Sidgwick, _Elements\nof Politics_, 1891, ch. iv. on Individualism, vi. on Contract, x. on\nSocialistic Interferences, xiii. on Law and Morality; Maine, _Ancient\nLaw_, 1861, Pollock's ed., 1906, chs. iii. and iv. on law of nature and\nequity; Stephen, _Essays in Political and Moral Philosophy_, 1888;\nRickaby, _Political and Moral Essays_, 1902; Hobhouse, _Morals in\nEvolution_, Vol. II., ch. vii. (on the general relation of the social\nand the moral). On the development of rights to life, limb, and freedom\nof movement, see Westermarck, chs. xiv.-xxii., and Sumner, _Folkways_,\nchs. vi., vii., and viii.; Hobhouse, Vol. I., ch. vii. (on slavery);\nSpencer, _Ethics_, Vol. II., Part IV. For charity, see Loch on Charity\nand Charities, _Encyclopaedia Britannica_; Uhlhorn, _Christian Charity in\nthe Ancient Church_; L'Allemand, _Histoire de la Charite_; Nicholl,\n_History of the English Poor Law_, 2 vols., 1898.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[196] Vol. I., pp. 367-368, italics not in original.\n\n[197] P. 262 of _Prolegomena to Ethics_; see chs. iii. and iv. of Book\nIII.\n\n[198] Alexander, _Moral Order and Progress_, pp. 384-898.\n\n[199] This does not of course exclude change and reform. It means that,\nso far as a society is organized, these changes themselves occur in\nregular and authorized ways.\n\n[200] It is stated, upon good authority, that a street railway system in\na large American city declined to adopt an improved fender, which made\nit practically impossible to kill persons, because the annual cost would\nbe $5,000 more than the existing expense for damages. This same system\ndeclined to adopt improved brakes which would reduce accidents to life\nand limb; and it was discovered that one of its directors was largely\ninterested in the manufacture of the old brakes.\n\n[201] Said Emerson: \"If a man is sick, is unable, is mean-spirited and\nodious, it is because there is so much of his nature which is unlawfully\nwithholden from him.\"\n\n[202] Recent suppression by the police in the larger American cities of\npublic meetings called to discuss unemployment or other matters deemed\nby some dangerous to vested interests, shows that the value of free\nspeech as a \"safety-valve\" has not even yet been thoroughly learned. It\nalso shows how the victories of freedom in the past have to be fought\nand won over again under new conditions, if they are to be kept alive.\n\n[203] Marshall, _Principles of Economics_.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI\n\nCIVIL SOCIETY AND THE POLITICAL STATE\n\n\nWe have been considering responsible freedom as it centers in and\naffects individuals in their distinctive capacities. It implies a public\norder which guarantees, defines, and enforces rights and obligations.\nThis public order has a twofold relation to rights and duties: (1) As\nthe social counterpart of their exercise by individuals, it constitutes\n_Civil Society_. It represents those forms of associated life which are\norderly and authorized, because constituted by individuals in the\nexercise of their rights, together with those special forms which\nprotect and insure them. Families, clubs, guilds, unions, corporations\ncome under the first head; courts and civil administrative bodies, like\npublic railway and insurance commissions, etc., come under the second.\n(2) The public order also fixes the fundamental terms and conditions on\nwhich at any given time rights are exercised and remedies secured; it is\norganized for the purpose of defining the basic methods of exercising\nthe activities of its constituent elements, individual and corporate. In\nthis aspect it is the _State_.\n\n\nSec. 1. CIVIL RIGHTS AND OBLIGATIONS\n\nEvery act brings the agent who performs it into association with others,\nwhether he so intends or not. His act takes effect in an organized world\nof action; in social arrangement and institutions. So far as such\ncombinations of individuals are recurrent or stable, their nature and\noperations are definitely formulated and definitely enforceable.\nPartnerships, clubs, corporations, guilds, families are such stable\nunions, with their definite spheres of action. Buying and selling,\nteaching and learning, producing and consuming, are recurrent activities\nwhose legitimate methods get prescribed. These specific provinces and\nmethods of action are defined in Civil Rights. They express the\nguaranteed and regular ways in which an individual, through action,\nvoluntarily enters into association or combination with others for the\nsake of a common end. They differ from political rights and obligations\nin that the latter concern modes of social organization which are so\nfundamental that they are not left to the voluntary choice and purpose\nof an individual. As a social being, he must have political\nrelationships, must be subject to law, pay taxes, etc.\n\n=1. Contract Rights.=--Modes of association are so numerous and variable\nthat we can only select those aspects of civil rights which are morally\nmost significant. We shall discriminate them according as they have to\ndo (1) with the more temporary and casual combinations of individuals,\nfor limited and explicit purposes; and (2) with more permanent,\ninclusive, and hence less definable ends; and (3) with the special\ninstitutions which exist for guaranteeing individuals the enjoyment of\ntheir rights and providing remedies if these are infringed upon. (1)\nContract rights. Rights of the first type are rights resulting from\nexpress or implied agreements of certain agents to do or refrain from\ndoing specific acts, involving exchange of services or goods to the\nmutual benefit of both parties in the transaction. Every bargain entered\ninto, every loaf of bread one buys or paper of pins one sells, involves\nan implied and explicit contract. A genuinely free agreement or contract\nmeans (i.) that each party to the transaction secures the benefit he\nwants; (ii.) that the two parties are brought into cooperative or\nmutually helpful relations; and that (iii.) the vast, vague, complex\nbusiness of conducting social life is broken up into a multitude of\nspecific acts to be performed and of specific goods to be delivered, at\ndefinite times and definite places. Hence it is hardly surprising that\none school of social moralists has found in the conception of free\ncontract its social ideal. Every individual concerned assumes\nobligations which it is to his interest to perform so that the\nperformance is voluntary, not coerced; while, at the same time, some\nother person is engaged to serve him in some way. The limitations of the\ncontract idea will concern us later.\n\n=2. The Permanent Voluntary Associations.=--Partnerships, limited\nliability corporations, guilds, trades unions, churches, schools, clubs,\nare more permanent and comprehensive associations, involving more\nfar-reaching rights and obligations. Societies organized for\nconversation and sociability or conviviality, \"corporations not for\nprofit,\" but for mutual enjoyment or for benevolent ends, come under the\nsame head. Most significant are the associations which, while entered\nonly voluntarily and having therefore a basis in contract, are for\ngeneric ends. Thus they are permanent, and cover much more than can be\nwritten in the contract. Marriage, in modern society, is entered into by\ncontract; but married life is not narrowed to the exchange of specific\nservices at specific times. It is a union for mutual economic and\nspiritual goods which are coextensive with all the interests of the\nparties. In its connection with the generation and rearing of children,\nit is a fundamental means of guarding all social interests and of\ndirecting their progress. Schools, colleges, churches, federations of\nlabor, organizations of employers, and of both together, represent other\nforms of permanent voluntary organizations which may have the most\nfar-reaching influence both upon those directly concerned and upon\nsociety at large.\n\n=3. Right to Use of Courts.=--All civil rights get their final\napplication and test in the right to have conflicting rights defined\nand infringed rights remedied by appeal to a public authority having\ngeneral and final jurisdiction. \"The right to sue and be sued\" may seem\ntoo legal and external a matter to be worthy of much note in an ethical\ntreatise; but it represents the culmination of an age-long\nexperimentation with the problem of reconciling individual freedom and\npublic order. No civil right is effective unless it carries with it a\nstatement of a method of enforcement and, if necessary, of redress and\nremedy. Otherwise it is a mere name. Moreover, conflicts of civil rights\nare bound to occur even when there is good faith on the part of all\nconcerned, just because new situations arise. Unless there is a way of\ndefining the respective rights of each party in the new situation, each\nwill arbitrarily and yet in good faith insist upon asserting his rights\non the old basis: private war results. A new order is not achieved and\nthe one already attained is threatened or disrupted. The value of rights\nto the use of courts resides, then, to a comparatively small degree, in\nthe specific cases of deliberate wrong which are settled. What is more\nimportant is that men get instruction as to the proper scope and limits\nof their activities, through the provision of an effective mechanism for\namicable settlement of disputes in those cases in which rights are vague\nand ambiguous because the situations are novel.\n\n=Classes of Wrongs and Remedies.=--Infringements upon rights, such as\nmurder, theft, arson, forgery, imply a character which is distinctly\nanti-social in its bent. The wrong, although done to one, is an\nexpression of a disposition which is dangerous to all. Such a wrong is a\ncrime; it is a matter for the direct jurisdiction of public authority.\nIt is the business of all to cooperate in giving evidence, and it may\nrender one a criminal accomplice to conceal or suppress evidence, just\nas it is \"compounding a felony\" for the wronged individual to settle the\nwrong done him by arranging privately for compensation. The penalty in\nsuch cases is generally personal; imprisonment or at least a heavy fine.\nThe violation may, however, be of the nature of a wrong or \"tort,\"\nrather than of a crime; it may indicate a disposition indifferent to\nsocial interests or neglectful of them rather than one actively hostile\nto them. Such acts as libels, trespasses upon the land of another, are\nillustrations. In such cases, the machinery of justice is put in motion\nby the injured individual, not by the commonwealth. This does not mean\nthat society as a whole has no interest in the matter; but that under\ncertain circumstances encouraging individuals to look out for their own\nrights and wrongs is socially more important than getting certain wrongs\nremedied irrespective of whether men stand up for their own rights or\nnot. Then again, there are civil disputes which indicate neither a\ncriminal nor a harmful disposition, but rather uncertainty as to what\nthe law really is, leading to disputes about rights--interpretations of\na contract, express or implied. Here the interest of society is to\nprovide a method of settlement which will hinder the growth of ill will\nand private retaliation; and which also will provide precedents and\nprinciples that will lessen uncertainty and conflict in like cases in\nthe future.\n\nPeace and tranquillity are not merely the absence of open friction and\ndisorder. They mean specific, easily-known, and generally recognized\nprinciples which determine the province and limits of the legitimate\nactivity of every person. Publicity, standards, rules of procedure,\nremedies acknowledged in common, are their essence. _Res publica_, the\ncommon concern, remains vague and latent till defined by impartial,\ndisinterested social organs. Then it is expressed in regular and\nguaranteed modes of activity. In the pregnant phrase of Aristotle, the\nadministration of justice is also its determination: that is, its\ndiscovery and promulgation.\n\n\nSec. 2. DEVELOPMENT OF CIVIL RIGHTS\n\n=Contrast of Primitive with Present Justice.=--The significance of the\naccomplishments and the defects of the present administration of law may\nbe brought out by a sketch of its contrast with primitive methods. In\nsavage and barbarian society, on account of the solidarity of the\nkin-group, any member of the group is likely to be attacked for the\noffense of any other (see p. 28). He may not have participated in the\nact, or have had complicity in planning it. His guilt is that the same\nblood runs in his veins.[204] The punitive attack, moreover, is made\ndirectly and promiscuously by the injured man and by his\nblood-relatives; it is made in the heat of passion or in the vengeance\nof stealth as custom may decree. Says Hearn, the state \"did not\ninterfere in the private quarrels of its citizens. Every man took care\nof his own property and his own household, and every hand guarded its\nown head. If any injury were done to any person, he retaliated, or made\nreprisals, or otherwise sought redress, as custom prescribed.\"[205] The\nreprisal may itself have called for another, and the blood-feud was on.\nIn any case, the state of affairs was one literally, not metaphorically,\ndescribed as \"private war.\"\n\n=Changes Now Effected.=--This state of affairs has been superseded by\none in which a third, a public and impartial authority (1) takes\ncognizance of offenses against another individual as offenses against\nthe commonwealth; (2) apprehends the supposed offender; (3) determines\nand applies an objective standard of judgment, the same for all, the\nlaw; (4) tries the supposed offender according to rules of procedure,\nincluding rules of evidence or proof, which are also publicly\npromulgated; and (5) takes upon itself the punishment of the offender,\nif found guilty. The history of this change, important and interesting\nas it is, does not belong here. We are concerned here only with the\nrelation of public authority, public law, and public activity to the\ndevelopment of the freedom of the individual on one side and of his\nresponsibility on the other.[206] We shall point out in a number of\nparticulars that the evolution of freedom and responsibility in\nindividuals has coincided with the evolution of a public and impartial\nauthority.\n\n=1. Good and Evil as Quasi-Physical.=--There are two alternatives in the\njudgment of good and evil. (1) They may be regarded as having _moral_\nsignificance, that is, as having a voluntary basis and origin. (2) Or\nthey may be considered as substantial properties of things, as a sort of\nessence diffused through them, or as a kind of force resident in them,\nin virtue of which persons and things are noxious or helpful, malevolent\nor kindly. Savage tribes, for instance, cannot conceive either sickness\nor death as natural evils; they are attributed to the malicious magic of\nan enemy. Similarly the evil which follows from the acts of a man is\ntreated as a sign of some metaphysical tendency inherent in him. Some\nmen bring bad luck upon everything and everybody they have anything to\ndo with. A curse is on their doings. No distinction is made between\nsuch evils and those which flow from intention and character. The notion\nof the moral or voluntary nature of good and evil hardly obtains. The\nquasi-physical view, bordering upon the magical, prevails. The result is\nthat evil is thought of as a contagious matter, transmitted from\ngeneration to generation, from class or person to class or person; and\nas something to be got rid of, if at all, by devices which are equally\nphysical. Natural evils, plagues, defeats, earthquakes, etc., _are\ntreated as quasi-moral, while moral evils are treated as more than half\nphysical_. Sins are infectious diseases, and natural diseases are\nmalicious interferences of a human or divine enemy. Morals are\nmaterialized, and nature is moralized or demoralized.[207]\n\nNow it is hardly necessary to point out the effect of such conceptions\nin restricting the freedom and responsibility of the individual person.\nMan is hemmed in as to thought and action on all sides by all kinds of\nmysterious forces working in unforeseeable ways. This is true enough in\nhis best estate. When to this limitation is added a direction of energy\ninto magical channels, away from those controllable sources of evil\nwhich reside in human disposition, the amount of effective freedom\npossible is slight. This same misplacing of liability holds men\naccountable for acts they have not committed, because some magic\ntendency for evil is imputed to them. Famine, pestilence, defeat in war\nare evils to be remedied by sacrifice of goods or persons or by\nritualistic ceremonies; while the remediable causes of harm in human\nignorance and negligence go without attention.\n\n=2. Accident and Intention.=--Under such circumstances, little\ndistinction can be made between the good and evil which an individual\n_meant_ to do and that which he _happened_ to do. The working\npresumption of society, up to a comparatively late stage of its history,\nwas that every harmful consequence is an evidence of evil disposition in\nthose who were in any way concerned. This limitation of freedom was\naccompanied by a counterpart limitation of responsibility. Where no harm\nactually resulted, there was thought to be no harmful intent. Animals\nand even inanimate objects which do injury are baleful things and come\nunder disapprobation and penalty. Even in civilized Athens there was a\nsurvival of the practice of holding inanimate things liable. If a tree\nfell on a man and killed him, the tree was to be brought to trial, and\nafter condemnation cast beyond the civic borders, i.e., outlawed.[208]\nAnyhow, the owner of an offending article was almost always penalized.\nWestermarck,[209] with reference to the guilt of animals, cites an\ninstance, dated in 1457, \"when a sow and her six young ones were tried\non a charge of their having murdered and partly eaten a child; the sow,\nbeing found guilty, was condemned to death, the young pigs were\nacquitted on account of their youth and the bad example of their\nmother.\" When sticks, stones, and animals are held accountable for evil\nresults, there is little chance of discriminating intent and accident or\nmisadventure in the case of personal agents. \"The devil himself knoweth\nnot the intent, the 'thought' of man\" was the mediaeval maxim; all that\ncan be certain is that harm has come and the one who caused it must\nsuffer; or else no overt harm has come and no one is to blame.[210] Harm\nhas been done and any one concerned, even remotely, in the injurious\nsituation, is _ex officio_ guilty; it will not do to take chances. The\nremoteness of an implication which may involve liability is seen in the\ncondition of English law in the thirteenth century: \"At your request I\naccompany you when you are about your own affairs: my enemies fall upon\nand kill me: you must pay for my death. You take me to see a wild-beast\nshow, or that interesting spectacle a madman: beast or madman kills me;\nyou must pay. You hang up your sword; some one else knocks it down so\nthat it cuts me; you must pay.\"[211] Only gradually did intent clearly\nevolve as the central element in an act, and thus lead to the idea of a\nvoluntary or free act.\n\nThat the limitation upon the side of responsibility was equally great is\nobvious. If a man is held liable for what he did not and could not\nforesee or desire, there is no ground for his _holding himself_\nresponsible for anticipating the consequences of his acts, and forming\nhis plans according as he foresees. This comes out clearly in the\nobverse of what has just been said. If no harm results from a willful\nattempt to do evil, the individual is not blamed. He goes scot free. \"An\nattempt to commit a crime is no crime.\"[212]\n\n=3. Character and Circumstances.=--Even in law, to say nothing of\npersonal moral judgments, we now almost as a matter of course take into\naccount, in judging an agent's intent, both circumstances, and character\nas inferred from past behavior. We extend our view of consequences,\ntaking into account in judging the moral quality of a particular deed,\nconsequences its doer is _habitually_ found to effect. We blame the\nindividual less for a deed if we find it contrary to his habitual\ncourse. We blame him more, if we find he has a character given to that\nsort of thing. We take into account, in short, the permanent attitude\nand disposition of the agent. We also discriminate the conditions and\nconsequences of a deed much more carefully. Self-defense, protection of\nothers or of property, come in as \"extenuating circumstances\"; the\ndegree of provocation, the presence of immediate impulsive fear or\nanger, as distinct from a definitely formed, long-cherished idea, are\nconsidered. The questions of first or of repeated offense, of prior\ncriminality or good behavior, enter in. Questions of heredity, of early\nenvironment, of early education and opportunity are being brought to-day\ninto account.\n\nWe are still very backward in this respect, both in personal and in\npublic morals; in private judgment and in legal procedure and penalty.\nOnly recently have we, for example, begun to treat juvenile delinquents\nin special ways; and the effort to carry appropriate methods further\nmeets with strong opposition and the even stronger inertia of\nindifference. It is regarded by many good people as lowering the bars of\nresponsibility to consider early training and opportunity, just as in\nits day it was so regarded to plead absence of intent in cases where\nevil had actually resulted. It is not \"safe\" to let any one off from the\nrigor of the law. The serious barrier, now as earlier, is upon the\nscientific or intellectual side. There was a time when it did not seem\nfeasible to pass upon intent; it was hidden, known only to God. But we\nhave now devised ways, adequate in principle, though faulty in detail,\nto judge immediate intent; similarly, with the growth of anthropology,\npsychology, statistics, and the resources of publicity in social\nscience, we shall in time find it possible to consider the effects of\nheredity, early environment, and training upon character and so upon\nintent. We shall then regard present methods of judging intent to be\nalmost as barbarous as we now consider the earlier disregard of accident\nand provocation. Above all we shall learn that increased, not relaxed\nresponsibility, comes with every increase of discrimination of causes\nlying in character and conditions.[213]\n\n=4. Intellectual Incapacity and Thoughtlessness.=--With increasing\nrecognition of character as the crucial element in voluntary action, we\nnow take into account such matters as age, idiocy, and insanity as\nfactors of judgment. But this also has been a slow growth. If we take\nthe one question of insanity, for example, in 1724 exculpation for harm\nresulting from a madman's acts required that the person excused \"be a\nman that is totally deprived of his understanding and memory, and doth\nnot know what he is doing, no more than an infant, than a brute, or a\nwild beast.\" At the beginning of the nineteenth century, the excuse was\nno longer that of being such a raving lunatic as is here implied; but of\nknowing right and wrong from each other _in the abstract_. By a\ncelebrated case in 1843, the rule was changed, in English law, to\nknowledge of the difference between right and wrong in the particular\ncase. Further advance waits upon progress of science which will make it\nmore possible to judge the specific mental condition of the person\nacting; and thus do away with the abuses of the present system which\ntend, on the one hand, to encourage the pleading of insanity where none\nmay exist; and, on the other hand (by a rigid application of a technical\nrule), to condemn persons really irresponsible.[214] Popular judgment\nstill inclines to impute clear and definite intention on the basis of\nresults; and to ignore conditions of intellectual confusion and\nbewilderment, and justifies itself in its course on the ground that such\nis the only \"safe\" course.[215]\n\n=Responsibility for Thoughtlessness.=--But the release from\nresponsibility for deeds in which the doer is intellectually\nincapacitated, is met on the other side by holding individuals of normal\nmental constitution responsible for some consequences which were not\nthought of at all. We even hold men accountable for _not_ thinking to do\ncertain acts. The former are acts of heedlessness or carelessness, as\nwhen a mason on top of a building throws rubbish on to a street below\nwhich injures some one, without any thought on his part of this result,\nmuch less any deliberate desire to effect it. The latter are acts of\nnegligence, as when, say, an engineer fails to note a certain signal. In\nsuch cases even when no harm results, we now hold the agent morally\nculpable. Similarly we blame children for _not_ thinking of the\nconsequences of their acts; we blame them for _not_ thinking to do\ncertain things at a certain time--to come home when told, and so on.\nThis is not merely a matter of judgment by others. The more\nconscientious a person is, the more occasions he finds to judge\n_himself_ with respect to results which _happened because he did not\nthink or deliberate or foresee at all_--provided he has reason to\nbelieve he would have thought of the harmful results if he had been of a\ndifferent character. Because we were absorbed in something else we did\nnot think, and while, in the abstract, this something else may have\nbeen all right, in the concrete it may be proof of an unworthy\ncharacter. The very fact that we permitted ourselves to become so\nabsorbed that the thought of an engagement, or of an opportunity to help\nsome friend whom we knew to be in need, did not occur to us, is evidence\nof a selfish, i.e., inconsiderate, character.\n\nThe case seems paradoxical and is crucial. Others hold us responsible\nbecause we _were_ irresponsible in action and _in order_ that we may\n_become_ responsible. We blame ourselves precisely because we discover\nthat an unconscious preference for a private or exclusive good led us to\nbe careless of the good of others. The effect (if the regret is genuine,\nnot simulated) is to develop a habit of greater thoughtfulness in the\nfuture. Less and less do men accept for others or for themselves\nignorance as an excuse for bad consequences, when the ignorance itself\nflows from character. Our chief moral business is to become acquainted\nwith consequences. Our moral character surely does not depend in this\ncase, then, upon the fact that we had alternatives clearly in mind and\nchose the worse; the difficulty is that we had only one alternative in\nmind and did not _consciously_ choose at all. Our freedom lies in the\n_capacity_ to alter our mode of action, through having our ignorance\nenlightened by being held for the neglected consequences when brought to\naccountability by others, or by holding ourselves accountable in\nsubsequent reflection. Cases of careless acts and of acts omitted\nthrough negligence are thus crucial for any theory of freedom and\nresponsibility. Either we are all wrong in blaming ourselves or others\nin such cases, because there is no free or voluntary element in them; or\nelse there is responsibility when deliberate comparison of alternatives\nand conscious preference are absent. There is responsibility for the\nabsence of deliberation. Nature does not forbear to attach consequences\nto acts because of the ignorance of the one who does the deed. The evil\nresults that follow in the wake of a thoughtless act are precisely the\nreminders that make one take thought the next time. Similarly, to be\nheld liable by others or to take ourselves to task for forgetfulness,\ninconsiderateness, and negligence, is the way in which to build up\nconscientious foresight and deliberate choice. The increased complexity\nand danger of modern industrial activity, the menace of electric power,\nof high explosives, of railway trains and trolley cars, of powerful\nmachines, have done much to quicken recognition that negligence may be\ncriminal, and to reawaken the conviction of Greek thought that\nthoughtless ignorance, where knowledge is possible, is the worst of\nevils. The increased interdependence of men, through travel and\ntransportation, collective methods of production, and crowding of\npopulation in cities, has widened the area of the harm likely to result\nfrom inconsiderate action, and has strengthened the belief that adequate\nthoughtfulness is possible only where there is sympathetic interest in\nothers.\n\n=5. The Conflict of Form and Substance.=--The technical forms of\nprocedure concerned in establishing and remedying rights were, for long\nages, more important than the substantial ends by which alone the forms\nmay be justified. Any effort for a remedy was nullified if the minutiae\nof complicated formulae (largely magical or ritualistic in their origin)\nwere deviated from. Almost any obligation might be escaped by some quirk\nor turn in some slight phrase or motion, without which no agreement was\nbinding, so sacramental was the importance of the very words. In early\ndays the rigidity of these semi-ritualistic performances doubtless\nserved to check arbitrary and reckless acts, and to impress the sense of\nthe value of a standard.[216] But they survived as \"rudimentary organs\"\nlong after they had done their work in this respect; and after they had\nbeen eliminated from legal procedure they survived as habits of judging\nconduct.\n\n=Survivals of Spirit of Individualistic Litigation.=--The fact that the\nprocedure of justice originated as methods of supplying impartial\numpires for conflicts waged between individuals, has had serious\nconsequences. It has had indeed the desirable consequence of quickening\nmen to the perception of their rights and to their obligation as social\nmembers to maintain them intact. But it has also had the undesirable\nresult of limiting the function of the public interest to the somewhat\nnegative one of securing fair play between contentious individuals. The\nbattle is not now fought out with fists or spears or oaths or ordeals:\nbut it is largely a battle of wits and of technical resources between\nthe opposite parties and their lawyers, with the State acting the part\nof a benevolently neutral umpire. The ignorant, the poor, the foreign,\nand the _merely_ honest are almost inevitably at a discount in this\nbattle.[217] And, in any case, the technical aspect of justice, that is,\nthe question of proper forms gets out of true perspective. The\n\"legally-minded\" man is likely to be one with whom technical precedents\nand rules are more important than the goods to be achieved and the evils\nto be avoided. With increase of publicity and scientific methods of\ndetermining and interpreting facts, and with a public and professional\ncriticism which is impartial and wise, we may anticipate that the\nsupremacy of the general good will be increasingly recognized in cases\nof litigation, and that the courts, as organs of public justice, will\ntake a more active and substantial part in the management of all legal\ncontroversies.[218]\n\n=Legal and Moral.=--But, at the best, definitions of rights and of\nremedial procedures only (1) lay down general, not individual\nconditions, and (2), so far as they are strict, register precedent and\ncustom rather than anticipate the novel and variable. They can state\nwhat shall not be done. Except in special cases, they cannot state what\nshall be done, much less the spirit and disposition in which it shall be\ndone. In their formulations, they present a sort of minimum limit of\nmorality not to be overstepped by those inclined to ill. They throw\nlittle light on the positive capacities and responsibilities of those\nwho are socially minded. They have a moral purpose: they free energy\nfrom the friction attendant upon vague, obscure, and uncertain\nsituations, by enlightening men as to what they may do and how they may\ndo it. But the exaggeration of form at the expense of the substantial\nend and good, leads to misplaced emphasis and false perspective. The\nrules are treated as ends; they are employed not to get insight into\nconsequences, but as justifying, apart from consequences, certain acts.\nThe would-be conscientious agent is led into considering goodness as a\nmatter of obeying rules, not of fulfilling ends. The average individual\nconceives he has satisfied the requirements of morality when he has\nconformed to the average level of legal definition and prescription.\nEgoistic, self-seeking men regard their actions as sanctioned if they\nhave _not_ broken the laws; and decide this question by success in\nevading penalties. The intelligence that should go to employing the\nspirit of laws to enlighten behavior is spent in ingenious inventions\nfor observing their letter. The \"respectable\" citizen of this type is\none of the unsocialized forces that social reformers find among their\nmost serious obstacles.\n\nThis identification of morality with the legal and jural leads to a\nreaction which is equally injurious: the complete separation of the\nlegal and the moral, the former conceived as merely \"outer,\" concerned\nentirely with acts, not at all with motive and character. The effect of\nthis divorce is perhaps more serious upon the moral than upon the legal.\nThe separation makes morals sentimental and whimsical, or else\ntranscendental and esoteric. It leads to neglect of the social and\ninstitutional realities which form a world of action as surely as\nnatural objects and energies form a physical world, and ends in the\npopular conception of morals as just a matter of \"goodness\" (the\ngoody-goodiness) of individuals. One of the most fundamental of moral\nduties is that of making the legal order a more adequate expression of\nthe common good.\n\n=Special Problems.=--Civil Society thus imposes upon its members not\nonly specific obligations, but it also imposes upon all who enjoy its\nbenefits the supreme obligation of seeing that the civic order is itself\nintelligently just in its methods of procedure. The peculiar moral\nproblems which men have to face as members of civil society change, of\ncourse, from time to time with change of conditions; among the more\nurgent of present problems, we may mention:\n\n=1. Reform of Criminal Procedure.=--The negative side of morality is\nnever so important as the positive, because the pathological cannot be\nas important as the physiological of which it is a disturbance and\nperversion. But no fair survey of our methods, either of locating\ncriminality or of punishing it, can fail to note that they contain far\ntoo many survivals of barbarism. Compared with primitive times we have\nindeed won a precious conquest. Even as late as 1813, a proposal to\nchange the penalty for stealing five shillings from death to\ntransportation to a remote colony, was defeated in England.[219] But we\nare likely in flattering ourselves upon the progress made to overlook\nthat which it remains to make. Our trials are technical rather than\nhuman: they assume that just about so much persistent criminality must\npersist in any case. They endeavor, in rather routine and perfunctory\nways, to label this and that person as criminal in such and such\ndegrees, or, by technical devices and resources, to acquit. In many\nAmerican states, distrust of government, inherited from days of\ntyrannical monarchy or oligarchy, protects the accused in all sorts of\nways. For fear the government will unjustly infringe upon the liberty of\nthe individual, the latter is not only--as is just--regarded as innocent\ntill proved guilty; but is provided with every possible technical\nadvantage in rules of evidence, postponements and appeals, advantages\nbacked up, in many cities, by association with political bosses which\ngives him a corrupt \"pull.\"\n\nOn the other hand, there is as yet no general recognition of the\npossibility of an unbiased scientific investigation into all the\nantecedents (hereditary and environmental) of evildoers; an\ninvestigation which would connect the wrong done with the _character of\nthe individual_ committing it, and not merely with one of a number of\ntechnical degrees of crime, laid down in the statute books in the\nabstract, without reference to particular characters and circumstances.\nThus while the evildoer has in one direction altogether too much of a\nchance to evade justice, he has in another direction a chance at only\ntechnical, rather than at moral, justice--justice as an individual human\nbeing. It is not possible to discuss here various methods which have\nbeen proposed for remedying these defects. But it is clearly the\nbusiness of the more thoughtful members of society to consider the evils\nseriously and to interest themselves actively in their reform. We need,\nabove all, a change in two respects: (a) recognition of the\npossibilities of new methods of judgment which the sciences of\nphysiology, psychology, and sociology have brought about; and (b)\nsurrender of that feudal conception according to which men are divided,\nas it were essentially, into two classes: one the criminal and the other\nthe meritorious. We need to consider the ways in which the pressure and\nthe opportunities of environment and education, of poverty and\ncomfortable living, of extraneous suggestion and stimulation, make the\ndifferences between one man and another; and to recognize how\nfundamentally one human nature is at bottom. Juvenile courts, probation\nofficers, detention officers, mark the beginnings of what is possible,\nbut only the beginnings. For the most part crime is still treated\nsordidly and by routine, except when, being sensational, it is the\noccasion for a great battle of wits between keen prosecuting attorney\nand clever \"criminal lawyer,\" with the world through the newspapers\nwatching the display.\n\n=2. Reform of Punishment.=--Emerson's bitter words are still too\napplicable. \"Our distrust is very expensive. The money we spend for\ncourts and prisons is very ill laid out. We make, by distrust, the thief\nand burglar and incendiary, and by our court and jail we keep him\nso.\"[220] Reformatories, whose purpose is change of disposition, not\nmere penalization, have been founded; but there are still many more\nprisons than reformatories. And, if it be argued that most criminals are\nso hardened in evil-doing that reformatories are of no use, the answer\nis twofold. We do not know, because we have never systematically and\nintelligently tried to find out; and, even if it were so, nothing is\nmore illogical than to turn the unreformed criminal, at the end of a\ncertain number of months or years, loose to prey again upon society.\nEither reform or else permanent segregation is the logical alternative.\nIndeterminate sentences, release on probation, discrimination of classes\nof offenders, separation of the first and more or less accidental and\nimmature offender from the old and experienced hand, special matrons for\nwomen offenders, introduction of education and industrial training into\npenitentiaries, the finding of employment for those released--all mark\nimprovements. They are, however, as yet inchoate. Intelligent members of\nsociety need to recognize their own responsibility for the promotion of\nsuch reforms and for the discovery of new ones.\n\n=3. Increase of Administrative Efficiency.=--In the last one hundred\nyears, society has rapidly grown in internal complexity. Commercial\nchanges have brought about an intense concentration of population in\ncities; have promoted migratory travel and intercourse, with destruction\nof local ties; have developed world markets and collective but\nimpersonal (corporate) production and distribution. Many new problems\nhave been created, while at the same time many of the old agencies for\nmaintaining order have been weakened or destroyed, especially such as\nwere adapted to small groups with fixed habits. A great strain has thus\nbeen put upon the instrumentalities of justice. Pioneer conditions\nretarded in America the development of the problems incident upon\nindustrial reconstruction. The possibility of moving on, of taking up\nnew land, finding unutilized resources of forest and mine, the\ndevelopment of new professions, the growth of population with new needs\nto be met, stimulated and rewarded individual enterprise. Under such\ncircumstances there could be no general demand for public agencies of\ninspection, supervision, and publicity. But the pioneer days of America\nare practically ended. American cities and states find themselves\nconfronted with the same problems of public health, poverty and\nunemployment, congested population, traffic and transportation,\ncharitable relief, tramps and vagabondage, and so forth, that have\ntroubled older countries.\n\nWe face these problems, moreover, with traditions which are averse to\n\"bureaucratic\" administration and public \"interference.\" Public\nregulation is regarded as a \"paternalistic\" survival, quite unsuited to\na free and independent people. It would be foolish, indeed, to overlook\nor deny the great gains that have come from our American individualistic\nconvictions: the quickening of private generosity, the growth of a\ngeneralized sense of _noblesse oblige_--of what every successful\nindividual owes to his community; of personal initiative, self-reliance,\nand versatile \"faculty\"; of interest in all the voluntary agencies which\nby education and otherwise develop the individuality of every one; and\nof a demand for equality of opportunity, a fair chance, and a square\ndeal for all. But it is certain that the country has reached a state of\ndevelopment, in which these individual achievements and possibilities\nrequire new civic and political agencies if they are to be maintained as\nrealities. Individualism means inequity, harshness, and retrogression to\nbarbarism (no matter under what veneer of display and luxury), unless it\nis a _generalized_ individualism: an individualism which takes into\naccount the real good and effective--not merely formal--freedom of\n_every_ social member.\n\nHence the demand for civic organs--city, state, and federal,--of expert\ninquiry, inspection, and supervision with respect to a large number of\ninterests which are too widespread and too intricate to be well cared\nfor by private or voluntary initiative. The well-to-do in great cities\nmay segregate themselves in the more healthful quarters; they may rely\nupon their automobiles for local transportation; they may secure pure\nmilk and unadulterated foods from personal resources; they may, by their\ncombined \"pull,\" secure good schools, policing, lighting, and well-paved\nstreets for their own localities. But the great masses are dependent\nupon public agencies for proper air, light, sanitary conditions of work\nand residence, cheap and effective transportation, pure food, decent\neducative and recreative facilities in schools, libraries, museums,\nparks.\n\nThe problems which fall to the lot of the proper organs of\nadministrative inspection and supervision are essentially _scientific_\nproblems, questions for expert intelligence conjoined with wide\nsympathy. In the true sense of the word political, they are political\nquestions: that is, they relate to the welfare of society as an\norganized community of attainment and endeavor. In the cant sense of the\nterm political, the sense of conventional party-issues and party-lines,\nthey have no more to do with politics than have the multiplication table\nand the laws of hygiene. Yet they are at present almost hopelessly\nentangled with irrelevant \"political\" issues, and are almost hopelessly\nunder the heel of party-politicians whose least knowledge is of the\nscientific questions involved, just as their least interest is for the\nhuman issues at stake. So far \"civil service reform\" has been mainly\nnegative: a purging away of some of the grosser causes which have\ninfluenced appointments to office. But now there is needed a\nconstructive reform of civil administration which will develop the\nagencies of inquiry, oversight, and publicity required by modern\nconditions; and which will necessitate the selection of public servants\nof scientifically equipped powers.\n\n\nSec. 3. POLITICAL RIGHTS AND OBLIGATIONS\n\nNo hard and fast line can be drawn between civil society and the State.\nBy the State, however, we denote those conditions of social organization\nand regulation which are most fundamental and most general:--conditions\nwhich are summed up in and expressed through the general will as\nmanifested in legislation and its execution. As a civil right is\ntechnically focused in the right to use the courts, \"to sue and be\nsued,\" that is in the right to have other claims adjudicated and\nenforced by a public, impartial authority, so a political right is\ntechnically summed up in the power to vote--either to vote directly upon\nlaws or to vote for those who make and carry out laws. To have the right\nin a legislative assembly to speak for or against a certain measure; to\nbe able to say \"yea\" or \"nay\" upon a roll-call; to be able to put into a\nballot-box a piece of paper with a number of names written thereon, are\nnot acts which of themselves possess the inherent value of many of the\nmost ordinary transactions of daily life. But the representative and\npotential significance of political rights exceeds that of any other\nclass of rights. Suffrage stands for direct and active participation in\nthe regulation of the terms upon which associated life shall be\nsustained, and the pursuit of the good carried on. Political freedom and\nresponsibility _express an individual's power and obligation to make\neffective all his other capacities by fixing the social conditions of\ntheir exercise_.\n\n=Growth of Democracy.=--The evolution of democratically regulated\nStates, as distinct from those ordered in the interests of a small\ngroup, or of a special class, is the social counterpart of the\ndevelopment of a comprehensive and common good. Externally viewed,\ndemocracy is a piece of machinery, to be maintained or thrown away, like\nany other piece of machinery, on the basis of its economy and efficiency\nof working. Morally, it is the effective embodiment of the moral ideal\nof a good which consists in the development of all the social capacities\nof every individual member of society.\n\n=Present Problems: 1. Distrust of Government.=--Present moral problems\nconnected with political affairs have to do with safeguarding the\ndemocratic ideal against the influences which are always at work to\nundermine it, and with building up for it a more complete and extensive\nembodiment. The historic antecedent of our own governmental system was\nthe exercise of a monopoly by a privileged class.[221] It became a\ndemocratic institution partly because the King, in order to secure the\nmonopoly, had to concede and guarantee to the masses of the people\ncertain rights as against the oligarchical interests which might rival\nhis powers; and partly because the centralization of power, with the\narbitrary despotism it created, called out protests which finally\nachieved the main popular liberties: safety of life and property from\narbitrary forfeiture, arrest, or seizure by the sovereign; the rights of\nfree assembly, petition, a free press, and of representation in the\nlaw-making body.\n\nUpon its face, the struggle for individual liberty was a struggle\nagainst the overbearing menace of despotic rulers. This fact has\nsurvived in an attitude towards government which cripples its usefulness\nas an agency of the general will. Government, even in the most\ndemocratic countries, is still thought of as an external \"ruler,\"\noperating from above, rather than as an organ by which people associated\nin pursuit of common ends can most effectively cooperate for the\nrealization of their own aims. Distrust of government was one of the\nchief traits of the situation in which the American nation was born. It\nis embodied not only in popular tradition, and party creeds, but in our\norganic laws, which contain many provisions expressly calculated to\nprevent the corporate social body from effecting its ends freely and\neasily through governmental agencies.[222]\n\nThere can be no doubt that the movement to restrict the functions of\ngovernment, the _laissez-faire_ movement, was in its time an important\nstep in human freedom, because so much of governmental action was\ndespotic in intention and stupid in execution. But it is also a mistake\nto continue to think of a government which is only the people associated\nfor the assuring of their own ends as if it were the same sort of thing\nas a government which represented the will of an irresponsible class.\nThe advance of means of publicity, and of natural and social science,\nprovides not only protection against ignorant and unwise public action,\nbut also constructive instrumentalities of intelligent administrative\nactivities. One of the chief moral problems of the present day is, then,\nthat of making governmental machinery such a prompt and flexible organ\nfor expressing the _common_ interest and purpose as will do away with\nthat distrust of government which properly must endure so long as\n\"government\" is something imposed from above and exercised from without.\n\n=2. Indifference to Public Concerns.=--The multiplication of private\ninterests is a measure of social progress: it marks the multiplication\nof the sources and ingredients of happiness. But it also invites neglect\nof the fundamental general concerns which, seeming very remote, get\npushed out of sight by the pressure of the nearer and more vivid\npersonal interests. The great majority of men have their thoughts and\nfeelings well occupied with their family and business affairs; with\ntheir clubs for recreation, their church associations, and so on.\n\"Politics\" becomes the trade of a class which is especially expert in\nthe manipulation of their fellows and skilled in the \"acceleration\" of\npublic opinion. \"Politics\" then gets a bad name, and the aloofness from\npublic matters of those best fitted, theoretically, to participate in\nthem is further promoted. The saying of Plato, twenty-five hundred years\nago, that the penalty good men pay for not being interested in\ngovernment is that they are then ruled by men worse than themselves, is\nverified in most of our American cities.\n\n=3. Corruption.=--This indifference of the many, which throws the\nmanagement of political affairs into the hands of a few, leads\ninevitably to corruption. At the best, government is administered by\nhuman beings possessed of ordinary human frailties and partialities;\nand, at the best, therefore, its ideal function of serving impartially\nthe common good must be compromised in its execution. But the control of\nthe inner machinery of governmental power by a few who can work in\nirresponsible secrecy because of the indifference and even contempt of\nthe many, incites to deliberate perversion of public functions into\nprivate advantages. As embezzlement is appropriation of trust funds to\nprivate ends, so corruption, \"graft,\" is prostitution of public\nresources, whether of power or of money, to personal or class interests.\nThat a \"public office is a public trust\" is at once an axiom of\npolitical ethics and a principle most difficult to realize.\n\nIn our own day, a special field has been opened within which corruption\nmay flourish, in the development of public utility companies. Railways,\ncity transportation systems, telegraph and telephone systems, the\ndistribution of water and light, require public franchises, for they\neither employ public highways or they call upon the State to exercise\nits power of eminent domain. These enterprises can be carried on\nefficiently and economically only as they are either monopolies, or\nquasi-monopolies. All modern life, however, is completely bound up with\nand dependent upon facilities of communication, intercourse, and\ndistribution. Power to control the various public-service corporations\ncarries with it, therefore, power to control and to tax all industries,\npower to build up and cast down communities, companies, and individuals,\nto an extent which might well have been envied by royal houses of the\npast. It becomes then a very special object for great corporations to\ncontrol the agencies of legislation and administration; and it becomes a\nvery special object for party leaders and bosses to get control of\nparty machinery in order to act as brokers in franchises and in special\nfavors--sometimes directly for money, sometimes for the perpetuation and\nextension of their own power and influence, sometimes for the success,\nthrough influential support and contribution to party funds, of the\nnational party with which they are identified.\n\n=4. Reforms in Party Machinery.=--The last decade or so of our history\nhas been rife with schemes to improve political conditions. It has\nbecome clear, among other things, that our national growth has carried\nwith it the development of secondary political agencies, not\ncontemplated by the framers of our constitutions, agencies which have\nbecome primary in practical matters. These agencies are the \"machines\"\nof political parties, with their hierarchical gradation of bosses from\nnational to ward rulers, bosses who are in close touch with great\nbusiness interests at one extreme, and with those who pander to the\nvices of the community (gambling, drink, and prostitution) at the other;\nparties with their committees, conventions, primaries, caucuses,\nparty-funds, societies, meetings, and all sorts of devices for holding\ntogether and exciting masses of men to more or less blind acquiescence.\n\nIt is not necessary to point out the advantages which parties have\nsubserved in concentrating and defining public opinion and\nresponsibility in large issues; nor to dwell upon their value in\ncounteracting tendencies which break up and divide men into a multitude\nof small groups having little in common with one another. But behind\nthese advantages a vast number of abuses have sheltered themselves.\nRecent legislation and recent discussion have shown a marked tendency\nformally to recognize the part actually played by party machinery in the\nconduct of the State, and to take measures to make this factor more\nresponsible in its exercise. Since these measures directly affect the\nconditions under which the government as the organ of the general will\ndoes its work of securing the fundamental conditions of equal\nopportunity for all, they have a direct moral import. Such questions as\nthe Australian ballot, the recognition of party emblems and party\ngroupings of names; laws for direct primary nominations; the registering\nof voters for primary as well as for final elections; legal control of\nparty committees and party conventions; publicity of accounts as to the\nreception and use of party funds; forbidding of contributions by\ncorporations, are thus as distinctly moral questions as are bribery and\nballot-box stuffing.\n\n=5. Reforms in Governmental Machinery.=--Questions that concern the\nrespective advantages of written versus unwritten constitutions are in\ntheir present state problems of technical political science rather than\nof morals. But there are problems, growing out of the fact that for the\nmost part American constitutions were written and adopted under\nconditions radically unlike those of the present, which have a direct\nethical import. As already noted, our constitutions are full of\nevidences of distrust of popular cooperative action. They did not and\ncould not foresee the direction of industrial development, the increased\ncomplexity of social life, nor the expansion of national territory. Many\nmeasures which have proved indispensable have had therefore to be as it\nwere smuggled in; they have been justified by \"legal fictions\" and by\ninterpretations which have stretched the original text to uses undreamed\nof. At the same time, the courts, which are the most technical and legal\nof our political organs, are supreme masters over the legislative\nbranch, the most popular and general. The distribution of functions\nbetween the states and the nation is curiously ill-adapted to present\nconditions (as the discussions regarding railway regulation indicate);\nand the distribution of powers between the state and its municipalities\nis hardly less so, resting in theory upon the idea of local\nself-government, and in practice doing almost everything possible to\ndiscourage responsible initiative for the conduct of their own affairs\non the part of municipalities.\n\nThese conditions have naturally brought forth a large crop of\nsuggestions for reforms. It is not intended to discuss them here, but\nthe more important of them, so far as involving moral questions, may be\nbriefly noted. The proposals termed the initiative and the referendum\nand the \"recall\" (this last intended to enable the people to withdraw\nfrom office any one with whose conduct of affairs they are dissatisfied)\nare clearly intended to make the ideal of democratic control more\neffective in practice. Proposals for limited or complete woman's\nsuffrage call attention to the fact that one-half of the citizenship\ndoes the political thinking for the other half, and emphasize the\ndifficulty under such conditions of getting a comprehensive social\nstandpoint (which, as we have already seen, is the sympathetic and\nreasonable standpoint) from which to judge social issues. Many sporadic\npropositions from this and that quarter indicate a desire to revise\nconstitutions so as to temper their cast-iron quality and increase their\nflexible adaptation to the present popular will, and so as to emancipate\nlocal communities from subjection to State legislatures in such a way as\nto give them greater autonomy and hence greater responsibility, in the\nmanagement of their own corporate affairs. It is not the arguments _pro_\nand _con_ that we are here concerned with; but we are interested to\npoint out that moral issues are involved in the settlement of these\nquestions. It may, moreover, be noted that dividing lines in the\ndiscussion are generally drawn, consciously or unconsciously, on the\nbasis of the degree of faith which exists in the democratic principle\nand ideal, as against the class idea in some of its many forms.\n\n=6. Constructive Social Legislation.=--The rapid change of economic\nmethods, the accumulation and concentration of wealth, the aggregation\nof capital and labor into distinct bodies of corporations and trusts, on\none side, and federated labor unions, on the other; the development of\ncollective agencies of production and distribution, have brought to the\nfocus of public attention a large number of proposals for new\nlegislation, almost all of which have a direct moral import. These\nmatters are discussed at length in subsequent chapters (chs.\nxxii.-xxv.); and so are passed over here with the reminder that, while\non one side they are questions of the ethics of industry, they are also\nquestions of the right and wrong use of political power and authority.\nWe may also note that the theoretical principle at issue, the extension\nversus the restriction of governmental agencies, so far as it is not\nsimply a question of what is expedient under the given circumstances, is\nessentially a question of a _generalized_ versus a _partial_\nindividualism. The democratic movement of emancipation of personal\ncapacities, of securing to each individual an _effective_ right to count\nin the order and movement of society as a whole (that is, in the common\ngood), has gone far enough to secure to many, more favored than others,\npeculiar powers and possessions. It is part of the irony of the\nsituation that such now oppose efforts to secure equality of opportunity\nto _all_ on the ground that these efforts would effect an invasion of\nindividual liberties and rights: i.e., of privileges based on\ninequality. It requires perhaps a peculiarly sympathetic imagination to\nsee that the question really involved is not one of magnifying the\npowers of the State against individuals, but is one of making individual\nliberty a more extensive and equitable matter.\n\n=7. The International Problem.=--The development of national States\nmarks a tremendous step forward in the realization of the principle of a\ntruly inclusive common good. But it cannot be the final step. Just as\nclans, sects, gangs, etc., are intensely sympathetic within and\nintensely exclusive and jealous without, so States are still arrayed\nagainst States, with patriotism, loyalty, as an internal virtue, and the\ndistrust and hatred of divisive hostility as the counterpart vice. The\nidea of humanity in the abstract has been attained as a moral ideal. But\nthe political organization of this conception, its embodiment in law and\nadministrative agencies, has not been achieved. International law,\narbitration treaties, and even a court like the Hague tribunal, whose\npower is sentimental rather than political, mark steps forward. Nothing\ncould be more absurd, from the historic point of view, than to regard\nthe conception of an international State of federated humanity, with its\nown laws and its own courts and its own rules for adjudicating disputes,\nas a mere dream, an illusion of sentimental hope. It is a very slight\nstep to take forward compared with that which has substituted the\nauthority of national States for the conflict of isolated clans and\nlocal communities; or with that which has substituted a publicly\nadministered justice for the regime of private war and retaliation. The\nargument for the necessity (short of the attainment of a federated\ninternational State with universal authority and policing of the seas)\nof preparing in peace by enlarged armies and navies for the possibility\nof war, must be offset at least by recognition that the possession of\nirresponsible power is always a direct temptation to its irresponsible\nuse. The argument that war is necessary to prevent moral degeneration of\nindividuals may, under present conditions, where every day brings its\nfresh challenge to civic initiative, courage, and vigor, be dismissed as\nunmitigated nonsense.\n\n\nSec. 4. THE MORAL CRITERION OF POLITICAL ACTIVITY\n\nThe moral criterion by which to try social institutions and political\nmeasures may be summed up as follows: The test is whether a given custom\nor law sets free individual capacities in such a way as to make them\navailable for the development of the general happiness or the common\ngood. This formula states the test with the emphasis falling upon the\nside of the individual. It may be stated from the side of associated\nlife as follows: The test is whether the general, the public,\norganization and order are promoted in such a way as to equalize\nopportunity for all.\n\n=Comparison with the Individualistic Formula.=--The formula of the\nindividualistic school (in the narrow sense of that term--the\n_laissez-faire_ school) reads: The moral end of political institutions\nand measures is the maximum possible freedom of the individual\nconsistent with his not interfering with like freedom on the part of\nother individuals. It is quite possible to interpret this formula in\nsuch a way as to make it equivalent to that just given. But it is not\nemployed in that sense by those who advance it. An illustration will\nbring out the difference. Imagine one hundred workingmen banded together\nin a desire to improve their standard of living by securing higher\nwages, shorter hours, and more sanitary conditions of work. Imagine one\nhundred other men who, because they have no families to support, no\nchildren to educate, or because they do not care about their standard of\nlife, are desirous of replacing the first hundred at lower wages, and\nupon conditions generally more favorable to the employer of labor. It is\nquite clear that in offering themselves and crowding out the others,\nthey are not interfering with the _like_ freedom on the part of others.\nThe men already engaged are \"free\" to work for lower wages and longer\ntime, if they want to. But it is equally certain that they are\ninterfering with the _real_ freedom of the others: that is, with the\neffective expression of their _whole_ body of activities.\n\nThe formula of \"_like_ freedom\" artificially isolates some one power,\ntakes that in the abstract, and then inquires whether _it_ is interfered\nwith. The one truly moral question is what relation this particular\npower, say the power to do a certain work for a certain reward, sustains\nto all the other desires, purposes, and interests of the individual. How\nare _they_ affected by the way in which some one activity is exercised?\nIt is in them that the concrete freedom of the man resides. We do not\nknow whether the freedom of a man is interfered with or is assisted\nuntil we have taken into account his whole system of capacities and\nactivities. The maximum freedom of one individual consistent with equal\n_concrete_ or _total_ freedom of others, would indeed represent a high\nmoral ideal. But the individualistic formula is condemned by the fact\nthat it has in mind only an abstract, mechanical, external, and hence\nformal freedom.\n\n=Comparison with the Collectivistic Formula.=--There is a rival formula\nwhich may be summed up as the subordination of private or individual\ngood to the public or general good: the subordination of the good of the\npart to the good of the whole. This notion also _may_ be interpreted in\na way which renders it identical with our own criterion. But it is\nusually not so intended. It tends to emphasize quantitative and\nmechanical considerations. The individualistic formula tends in practice\nto emphasize the freedom of the man who has power at the expense of his\nneighbor weaker in health, in intellectual ability, in worldly goods,\nand in social influence. The collectivistic formula tends to set up a\nstatic social whole and to prevent the variations of individual\ninitiative which are necessary to progress. An individual variation may\ninvolve opposition, not conformity or subordination, to the existing\nsocial good taken statically; and yet may be the sole means by which the\nexisting State is to progress. Minorities are not always right; but\nevery advance in right begins in a minority of one, when some individual\nconceives a project which is at variance with the social good as it\n_has_ been established.\n\nA true public or social good will accordingly not subordinate individual\nvariations, but will encourage individual experimentation in new ideas\nand new projects, endeavoring only to see that they are put into\nexecution under conditions which make for securing responsibility for\ntheir consequences. A just social order promotes in all its members\nhabits of criticizing its attained goods and habits of projecting\nschemes of new goods. It does not aim at intellectual and moral\nsubordination. Every form of social life contains survivals of the past\nwhich need to be reorganized. The struggle of some individuals _against_\nthe existing subordination of their good to the good of the whole is the\nmethod of the reorganization of the whole in the direction of a more\ngenerally distributed good. Not order, but orderly progress, represents\nthe social ideal.\n\n\nLITERATURE\n\nGreen, _Principles of Political Obligation_, 1888; Ritchie, _Principles\nof State Interference_, 1891, _Natural Rights_, 1895; Lioy, _Philosophy\nof Right_, 2 vols., 1901; Willoughby, _An Examination of the Nature of\nthe State_, 1896; Wilson, _The State_, 1889; Donisthorpe,\n_Individualism_, 1889; Giddings, _Democracy and Empire_, 1900; Mulford,\n_The Nation_, 1882; Spencer, _Principles of Sociology_, Vol. II., Part\nV., 1882, on Political Institutions; Bentham, _Fragment on Government_,\n1776; Mill, _Considerations on Representative Government_, 1861, _On\nLiberty_, 1859, and _The Subjection of Women_, 1859; Austin,\n_Jurisprudence_, 2 vols., 4th ed., 1873; Hadley, _The Relations between\nFreedom and Responsibility in the Evolution of Democratic Government_,\n1903; Pollock, _Expansion of the Common Law_, 1904; Hall, _Crime in Its\nRelations to Social Progress_, 1901; _Philanthropy and Social Progress_,\nSeven Essays, 1893; Stephen (J. F.), _Liberty, Equality, Fraternity_,\n1873 (a criticism of Mill's _Liberty_); Tufts, _Some Contributions of\nPsychology to the Conception of Justice_, Philosophical Review, Vol.\nXV., p. 361.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[204] A traveler tells of overhearing children in Australia, when one of\ntheir kin had injured some one in another clan, discuss whether or no\nthey came within the degree of nearness of relationship which made them\nliable to suffer.\n\n[205] Hearn, _The Aryan Household_, p. 431. Hearn is speaking, moreover,\nof a later and more advanced condition of society, one lying well within\n\"civilization.\"\n\n[206] Those interested in this important history, as every student of\nmorals may well be, will find easily accessible material in the\nfollowing references: Hobhouse, _Morals in Evolution_, ch. iii. of Vol.\nI.; Hearn, _The Aryan Household_, ch. xix.; Westermarck, _The Origin and\nDevelopment of the Moral Ideas_, Vol. I., pp. 120-185, and parts of ch.\nxx.; Sutherland, _Origin and Growth of the Moral Instinct_, chs. xx. and\nxxi.; Pollock and Maitland, _History of of English Law_, Vol. II., pp.\n447-460 and ch. ix.; Pollock, _Oxford Lectures_ (The King's Peace);\nCherry, _Criminal Law in Ancient Communities_; Maine, _Ancient Law_.\nReferences to anthropological literature, dealing with savage and\nbarbarian customs, will be found especially in Westermarck and Hobhouse.\n\n[207] For facts regarding the importance and nature of these\nconceptions, see Westermarck, _op. cit._, pp. 52-72; Robertson Smith,\n_The Religion of the Semites_, pp. 427-435 and 139-149; Jevons,\n_Introduction to the History of Religion_; Hobhouse, _op. cit._, Vol.\nII., chs. i. and ii.; and in general facts bearing on the relations\nbetween taboos, holiness, and uncleanness; ablutions, purifications by\nfire, transference by scapegoats; also the evil power of curses, and the\nearly conceptions of doom and fate. For a suggestive interpretation of\nthe underlying facts, see Santayana, _The Life of Reason_, Vol. III.,\nchs. iii. and iv.\n\n[208] See Plato, _Laws_, IX., 873. Compare Holmes, _Common Law_. In\nmediaeval and early modern Europe, offending objects were \"deodand,\" that\nis, devoted to God. They were to be appropriated by the proper civil or\necclesiastical authority, and used for charity. In theory, this lasted\nin England up to 1846. See Tylor, _Primitive Culture_, Vol. I., pp.\n286-287; and Pollock and Maitland, _op. cit._, II., pp. 471-472.\n\n[209] _Op. cit._, p. 257.\n\n[210] The very words cause and to blame are closely connected in their\norigin. Cf. the Greek [Greek: aitia].\n\n[211] Pollock and Maitland, _op. cit._, II., p. 469; I., 30. For the\nhistory of the idea of accident in English law with reference to\nhomicide, see also pp. 477-483. Also Stephen, _History of the Criminal\nLaw in England_, Vol. III., pp. 316-376.\n\n[212] Pollock and Maitland, II., p. 473; see Westermarck, pp. 240-247.\n\n[213] The slowness and indirectness of change throw light upon the\nsupposed distinction of justice and mercy (see _ante_, p. 415). When the\npractical injustice of regarding accidental homicide or killing in\nself-defense as murder began to be felt, the theory was still that the\nman in justice was guilty, but that he was to be recommended to the\ncrown for mercy or pardon. This was a mean term in the evolution of our\npresent notion of justice.\n\n[214] For some of the main historic facts on intellectual disability,\nsee Westermarck, pp. 264-277.\n\n[215] Popular judgment, we may say, tends to be as grossly utilitarian\nin its practice as it is grossly intuitional in its theoretical\nstandpoint. In assuming the possibility of an almost infallible,\noffhand, pat perception of right and wrong, it commits itself\npractically to judging in an offhand, analyzed way, on the basis of the\nevils which overtly result.\n\n[216] See Pollock and Maitland, Vol. II., p. 561, who quote from\nIhering: \"Formulation is the sworn enemy of arbitrariness, the\ntwin-sister of liberty\"; and who add: \"As time goes on there is always a\nlarger room for discretion in the law of procedure: but discretionary\npowers can only be safely entrusted to judges whose impartiality is\nabove suspicion and whose every act is exposed to public and\nprofessional criticism.\"\n\n[217] A lawyer, asked if the poor were not at a disadvantage in the\nlegal maintenance of their rights, replied: \"_Not any more than they are\nin the other relations of life._\"\n\n[218] The devices of \"equity\" as distinct from strict legality are of\ncourse in part intended to secure this result.\n\n[219] Robinson and Beard, _Development of Modern Europe_, Vol. II., p.\n207.\n\n[220] \"Man the Reformer.\"\n\n[221] The term \"the King's Peace,\" as the equivalent in England for the\npeace and order of the commonwealth, goes back to a time when literally\nit meant a private possession. Pollock says that the desire to collect\nlarger revenues was the chief motive for pushing the royal jurisdiction\nagainst lesser local authorities. Essay on the King's Peace in _Oxford\nEssays_.\n\n[222] Says President Hadley: \"The fundamental division of powers in the\nConstitution of the United States is between voters on the one hand, and\nproperty-owners on the other. The forces of democracy on one side,\ndivided between the executive and the legislature, are set over against\nthe forces of property on the other side, with the judiciary as arbiter\nbetween them.... The voter could elect what officers he pleased, so long\nas these officers did not try to do certain duties confided by the\nConstitution to the property-holders. Democracy was complete as far as\nit went, but constitutionally it was bound to stop short of _social_\ndemocracy.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII\n\nTHE ETHICS OF THE ECONOMIC LIFE\n\n\nIn considering the ethics of the economic life and of property, so far\nas this latter topic has not received treatment elsewhere, we give (1) a\ngeneral analysis of the ethical questions involved, (2) a more specific\naccount of the problems raised by the present tendencies of industry,\nbusiness, and property; we follow these analyses with (3) a statement of\nprinciples, and (4) a discussion of unsettled problems.\n\n\nSec. 1. GENERAL ANALYSIS\n\nBoth the economic process and property have three distinct ethical\naspects corresponding respectively to the ethical standpoint of\nhappiness, character, and social justice. (1) The economic process\nsupplies men with goods for their bodily wants and with many of the\nnecessary means for satisfying intellectual, aesthetic, and social needs;\nproperty represents permanence and security in these same values. (2)\nThrough the difficulties it presents, the work it involves, and the\nincitements it offers, the economic process has a powerful influence in\nevoking skill, foresight, and scientific control of nature, in forming\ncharacter, and stimulating ambition to excel. Property means power,\ncontrol, and the conditions for larger freedom. (3) The economic process\nhas an important social function. Through division of labor,\ncooperation, and exchange of goods and services, it affords one of the\nfundamental expressions of the organic nature of society in which\nmembers are reciprocally ends to each other. Property, likewise, is not\nonly a possessing, but a \"right,\" and thus, like all rights, involves\nthe questions why and how far society should support the individual in\nhis interests and claims. Let us examine each of these aspects further.\n\n=1. The Economic in Relation to Happiness.=--Subject to the important\nqualifications to be made below under this and the succeeding sections,\nwe note first that the supply of needs and wants by industry and\ncommerce is ethically a good. A constant increase in production and\nconsumption is at least a possible factor in a fuller life. Wealth is a\npossible condition of weal, even if it is not to be gratuitously\nidentified with it. Rome is frequently cited as an example of the evil\neffects of material wealth. But it was not wealth _per se_, but wealth\n(a) gained by conquest, and exploitation, rather than by industry; (b)\ncontrolled by a minority; and (c) used in largesses or in crude\nspectacles--rather than democratically distributed and used to minister\nto higher wants. The present average income in the United States is\nabout two hundred dollars a year per capita, too small a sum to permit\ncomfortable living, sufficient education for children, and the\nsatisfaction which even a very moderate taste may seek. From this point\nof view we may then ask of any industrial process or business method\nwhether it is an economical and efficient method of production, and\nwhether it naturally tends to stimulate increased production. To do this\nis--so far as it goes--ethically as well as economically desirable.\n\nIf wealth is a good, it might seem that property must be judged by the\nsame standard, since it represents security in the satisfactions which\nwealth affords. But there is an important distinction. Wealth means\nenjoyment of goods and satisfaction of wants. Property means the title\nto the exclusive use or possession of goods. Hence the increase of\nproperty may involve increasing exclusion of part of the community from\nwealth, although the owners of the property may be increasing their own\nenjoyments. For, as pointed out very forcibly by Hadley in the first\nchapter of his _Economics_, the public wealth of a community is by no\nmeans equal to the sum of its private property. If all parks were\ndivided up into private estates, all schoolhouses controlled by private\nowners, all water supplies and highways given into private control, the\nsum of private property might be very much increased; but the public\nwealth would be decreased. Property is one of the means of dealing with\npublic wealth. It is important to bear in mind, however, that it is only\none means. Wealth may be (1) privately owned and privately used; (2)\nprivately owned and publicly or commonly used; (3) publicly owned, but\nprivately used; (4) publicly owned and publicly or commonly used.\nIllustrations of these four methods are, for the first, among\npractically all peoples, clothing and tools; of the second, a private\nestate opened to public use--as a park; of the third, public lands or\nfranchises leased to individuals; of the fourth, public highways, parks,\nnavigable rivers, public libraries. Whether property in any given case\nis a means to happiness will depend, then, largely upon whether it\noperates chiefly to increase wealth or to diminish it. The view has not\nbeen infrequent that the wealth of the community is the sum of its\nprivate property. From this it is but a step to believe \"that the\nacquisition of property is the production of wealth, and that he best\nserves the common good who, other things equal, diverts the larger share\nof the aggregate wealth to his own possession.\"[223] The ethical\nquestions as to the relation of property to happiness involve\naccordingly the problem of justice and can be more conveniently\nconsidered under that head.\n\n=2. Relation to Character.=--Even in its aspect of satisfying human\nwants, quantity of production is not the only consideration. As was\npointed out in the chapters on Happiness, the satisfaction of any and\nevery want is not necessarily a moral good. It depends upon the nature\nof the wants; and as the nature of the wants reflects the nature of the\nman who wants, the moral value of the economic process and of the wealth\nit provides must depend upon the relation of goods to persons. As\neconomists we estimate values in terms of external goods or commodities;\nas ethical students we estimate values in terms of a certain quality of\nlife. We must ask first how the satisfaction of wants affects the\nconsumers.\n\n=Moral Cost of Production.=--Consider next the producers. It is\ndesirable to have cheap goods, but the price of goods or service is not\nmeasurable solely in terms of other commodities or service; the price of\nan article is also, as Thoreau has said, what it costs in terms of human\nlife. There is cheap production which by this standard is dear. The\nintroduction of machinery for spinning and weaving cotton cheapened\ncotton cloth, but the child labor which was supposedly necessary as a\nfactor in cheap production, involving disease, physical stunting,\nignorance, and frequently premature exhaustion or death, made the\nproduct too expensive to be tolerated. At least, it was at last\nrecognized as too expensive in England; apparently the calculation has\nto be made over again in every community where a new system of child\nlabor is introduced. What is true of child labor is true of many other\nforms of modern industry--the price in human life makes the product\ndear. The minute subdivision of certain parts of industry with the\nconsequent monotony and mechanical quality of the labor, the accidents\nand diseases due to certain occupations, the devices to cheapen goods by\ningredients which injure the health of the consumer, the employment of\nwomen under unsanitary conditions and for excessive hours with\nconsequent risk to the health of themselves and their offspring--all\nthese are part of the moral price of the present processes of industry\nand commerce.\n\nMoreover, the relation of production to physical welfare is only one\naspect of its effects upon life and character. We may properly ask of\nany process or system whether it quickens intelligence or deadens it,\nwhether it necessitates the degradation of work to drudgery, and whether\nit promotes freedom or hampers it. To answer this last question we shall\nhave to distinguish formal from real freedom. It might be that a system\nfavorable to the utmost formal freedom--freedom of contract--would\nresult in the most entire absence of that real freedom which implies\nreal alternatives. If the only alternative is, this or starve, the real\nfreedom is limited.\n\n=Property and Character.=--Viewed on its positive side, property means\nan expansion of power and freedom. To seize, master, and possess is an\ninstinct inbred by the biological process. It is necessary for life; it\nis a form of the _Wille zum Leben_ or _Wille zur Macht_ which need not\nbe despised. But in organized society possession is no longer mere\nanimal instinct; through expression in a social medium and by a social\nperson it becomes a _right_ of property. This is a far higher capacity;\nlike all rights it involves the assertion of personality and of a\nrational claim upon fellow members of society for their recognition and\nbacking. Fichte's doctrine, that property is essential to the effective\nexercise of freedom, is a strong statement of its moral importance to\nthe individual.\n\nOver against these positive values of property are certain evils which\nmoralists have always recognized, evils both to the property owner and\nto society. Avarice, covetousness, hardness toward others, seem to be\nthe natural effects of the enormous possibilities of power offered by\nproperty, joined with its exclusive character. The prophets of Israel\ndenounced the rich, and Jesus's image of the difficulty found by the\nrich man in entering the kingdom of God--a moral society--has met\ngeneral acceptance. Plato's portrayal of the State in which the wealthy\nrule sketches the perversion and disobedience of laws, the jealousies\nand class hatred, the evasion of taxes for public defense, and gives the\nmoral outcome:--\n\n    \"And henceforth they press forward on the path of money-getting,\n    losing their esteem for virtue as the esteem for wealth grows upon\n    them. For can you deny that there is such a gulf between wealth\n    and virtue, that when weighed as it were in the two scales of a\n    balance one of the two always falls, as the other rises?\"[224]\n\nEven apart from questions of just distribution, the moral question\narises as to whether an unlimited power should be given to individuals\nin this form, and whether there should be unlimited right of\ninheritance. But all these tend to pass over at once into questions of\njustice.\n\n=3. Social Aspects.=--The various relations of man to man, political,\nfriendly, kindred, are developed forms of the interdependence implicit\nin the early group life. A group of units, each independent of the\nothers, would represent mass only, but such a group as is made up of\nmen, women, and children, sustaining all the relations found in present\nhuman life, represents something vastly more than a mass of individuals.\nEvery life draws from the rest. Man without friendship, love, pity,\nsympathy, communication, cooperation, justice, rights, or duties, would\nbe deprived of nearly all that gives life its value.\n\nThe necessary help from others is obtained in various ways. Parental,\nfilial, and other kinship ties, friendship and pity, give rise to\ncertain services, but they are necessarily limited in their sphere and\nexact in return a special attitude that would be intolerable if made\nuniversal. The modern man does not want to be cousin to every one, to\ngive every one his personal friendship, to be in a perpetual attitude of\nreceiving favors, or of asking and not receiving. Formerly the way of\ngetting service from men outside these means was by slavery. The\neconomic relation provides for the mutual exchange of goods and services\non a basis of self-respect and equality. Through its system of contracts\nit provides for future as well as present service. It enables each to\nobtain the services of all the rest, and in turn to contribute without\nincurring any other claims or relations. Nor does it at all diminish the\nmoral value of these mutual exchanges of goods and services that they\nmay be paid for. It used to be the theory that in every bargain one\nparty gained and the other lost. It is now recognized that a normal\ntransaction benefits both parties. The \"cash payment basis,\" which was\nat first denounced as substituting a mechanical nexus for the old\npersonal tie, is in reality a means for establishing a greater\nindependence instead of the older personal relation of \"master\" and\n\"servant.\" It enabled a man, as Toynbee puts it, to sell his labor like\nany other commodity without selling himself.\n\nBut while the economic process has these moral possibilities, the\nmorality of any given system or practice will depend on how far these\nare actually realized.\n\nFirst of all, we may fairly ask of a process, Does it give to each\nmember the kind of service needed by him? In economic terms, Does it\nproduce the kinds of goods which society needs and desires? A method\nwhich provides for this successfully will in so far be providing against\nscarcity of some goods and oversupply of others, and thus against one of\nthe sources of crises, irregularity of work and wages, and ultimately\nagainst suffering and want.\n\nSecondly, if the process is an expression of the mutual dependence and\nservice of members who as persons all have, as Kant puts it, intrinsic\nworth, and who in our political society are recognized as equal, we may\nfairly ask how it distributes the results of services rendered. Does\nthe process tend to a broad and general distribution of goods in return\nfor services rendered, or to make \"the rich richer and the poor poorer?\"\nOr, from another point of view, we might ask, Does the process tend to\nreward members on a moral or equitable basis, or upon a basis which is\nnon-moral if not immoral or unjust.\n\nThirdly, the problem of _conflicting services_ presents itself under\nseveral forms. There is, first, the ever-present conflict between\nproducer and consumer. Higher wages and shorter hours are good for the\ncarpenter or the weaver, until he pays his rent or buys clothes, when he\nis interested in cheaper goods. What principle can be employed to adjust\nsuch a question? Again, service to the consumer may lead a producer to a\nprice-list implying a minimum of profits. One producer can afford this\nbecause of his larger business, but it will drive his competitor from\nthe field. Shall he agree to a higher price at which all can do\nbusiness, or insist on the lower which benefits the consumer and also\nhimself? The labor union is a constant embodiment of the problem of\nconflicting services. How far shall it serve a limited group, the union,\nat the expense of other workers in the same trade--non-unionists? Does\nit make a difference whether the union is open to all, or whether the\ndues are fixed so high as to limit the membership? Shall the apprentices\nbe limited to keep up the wage by limiting the supply? If so, is this\nfair to the boys or unskilled laborers who would like to enter? And\ngranting that it is a hardship to these, is it harder or is it kinder to\nthem than it would be to leave the issue to the natural weeding out or\nstarving-out procedure of natural selection in case too many enter the\ntrade? Shall the hours be reduced and wages raised as high as possible,\nor is there a \"fair\" standard--fair to both consumer and laborer? How\nfar may the union combine with the capitalist to raise prices to the\nconsumer?\n\n=Private Property and Social Welfare.=--The social value of property is\nobviously indirect, just as in law, private rights are regarded as\nindirectly based on social welfare. It is society's aim to promote the\nworth of its members and to favor the development of their personal\ndignity and freedom. Property may, therefore, claim social value in so\nfar as it serves these ends, unless it interferes with other social\nvalues. The effect of private property has seemed to some disastrous to\ncommunity of interest and feeling. Plato, for example, in his ideal\nstate would permit his guardians no private property. There would, then,\nbe no quarrels over \"meum\" and \"tuum,\" no suits or divisions, no petty\nmeanness or anxieties, no plundering of fellow-citizens, no flattery of\nrich by poor. The mediaeval church carried out his theory. Even modern\nsociety preserves a certain trace of its spirit. For the classes that\nPlato called guardians--soldiers, judges, clergy, teachers--have\nvirtually no property, although they are given support by society. It\nwould probably be generally agreed that it is better for the public that\nthese classes should not have large possessions. But it is obvious that\nprivate property is not the sole cause of division between individuals\nand classes. Where there is a deep-going unity of purpose and feeling,\nas in the early Christian community, or in various other companies that\nhave attempted to practice communism, common ownership of wealth may be\nmorally valuable as well as practically possible. But without such\nunity, mere abolition of property is likely to mean more bitter\ndivisions, because there is no available method for giving to each the\nindependence which is necessary to avoid friction and promote happiness.\n\nGranting, however, the general position that some parts of wealth should\nbe privately owned, we must recognize that a great number of moral\nproblems remain as to the precise conditions under which society will\nfind it wise to entrust the control of wealth to private ownership. For\nit must be clearly kept in mind that there is no absolute right of\nprivate property. Every right, legal or moral, derives from the social\nwhole, which in turn, if it is a moral whole, must respect the\nindividuality of each of its members. On this basis moral problems, such\nas the following, must be considered. What kind of public wealth should\nbe given into absolute control of private individuals or impersonal\ncorporations? Does the institution in its present form promote the good\nof those who have no property as well as of those who have it, or only\nof those who own? Would the welfare of society as a whole be promoted by\ngiving a larger portion of public wealth into private control, or by\nretaining a larger proportion than at present under public ownership?\nShould there be any limit to the amount of land or other property which\nan individual or corporation may own? Are there any cases in which\nprivate ownership operates rather to exclude the mass of society from\nthe benefits of civilization than to give them a share of those\nbenefits? Should a man be allowed to transmit all his property to his\nheirs, or should it be in part reserved by society?\n\nThe preceding analysis has aimed to state some of the problems which\nbelong necessarily to the economic life. At the present time, however,\nthe moral issues assume a new and puzzling aspect because of the changes\nin economic conditions. It will be necessary to consider briefly these\nchanged conditions.\n\n\nSec. 2. THE PROBLEMS SET BY THE NEW ECONOMIC ORDER\n\n=The Collective and Impersonal Organizations.=--Two changes have come\nover a large part of the economic and industrial field. The first is the\nchange from an individual to a collective basis. The second, which is in\npart a consequence of the first, is a change from personal to\nimpersonal or corporate relations. Corporations are of course composed\nof persons, but when organized for economic purposes they tend to become\nsimply economic purpose incorporate, abstracted from all other human\nqualities. Although legally they may be subjects of rights and duties,\nthey have but one motive, and are thus so abstract as to be morally\nimpersonal. They tend to become machines for carrying on business,\nand, as such, may be as powerful--and as incapable of moral\nconsiderations--as other machines.\n\n=Ethical Readjustment.=--Both these changes require readjustment of our\nethical conceptions. Our conceptions of honesty and justice, of rights\nand duties, got their present shaping largely in an industrial and\nbusiness order when mine and thine could be easily distinguished; when\nit was easy to tell how much a man produced; when the producer sold to\nhis neighbors, and an employer had also the relations of neighbor to his\nworkmen; when responsibility could be personally located, and conversely\na man could control the business he owned or make individual contracts;\nwhen each man had his own means of lighting, heating, water supply, and\nfrequently of transportation, giving no opportunity or necessity for\npublic service corporations. Such conceptions are inadequate for the\npresent order. The old honesty could assume that goods belonged to their\nmakers, and then consider exchanges and contracts. The new honesty will\nfirst have to face a prior question, _Who owns what is collectively\nproduced_, and are the present \"rules of the game\" distributing the\nreturns honestly and fairly? The old justice in the economic field\nconsisted chiefly in securing to each individual his rights in property\nor contracts. The new justice must consider how it can secure for each\nindividual a standard of living, and such a share in the values of\ncivilization as shall make possible a full moral life. The old virtue\nallowed a man to act more as an individual; the new virtue requires him\nto act in concerted effort if he is to achieve results. Individualist\ntheories cannot interpret collectivist facts.\n\nThe changes in the economic and industrial processes by which not only\nthe associated powers of present human knowledge, skill, and endurance,\nbut also the combined results of past and future skill and industry are\nmassed and wielded, depend on several concurrent factors. We shall\nnotice the social agency, the technique of industry, the technique of\nbusiness, the means of fixing value, and the nature of property.\n\n\nSec. 3. THE AGENCIES FOR CARRYING ON COMMERCE AND INDUSTRY\n\n=Early Agencies.=--The early agencies for carrying on trade and industry\nwere not organized purely for economic purposes. The kindred or family\ngroup engaged in certain industries, but this was only part of its\npurpose. So in the various territorial groups. The Athenian city-state\nowned the mines; the German village had its forest, meadow, and water as\na common possession; and the \"common\" survived long in English and\nAmerican custom, though the cattle pastured on it might be individually\nowned. In the United States certain land was reserved for school\npurposes, and if retained would now in some cases be yielding an almost\nincredible amount for public use; but it has usually been sold to\nprivate individuals. The national government still retains certain land\nfor forest reserve, but until the recent movement toward municipal\nownership, the civic community had almost ceased to be an economic\nfactor in England and America, except in the field of roads, canals, and\nthe postoffice. In both family and territorial or community control of\nindustry, we have the economic function exercised as only one among\nseveral others. The economic helped to strengthen the other bonds of\nunity. On the other hand, the economic motive could not disentangle\nitself and stand out in all its naked force. Within either family or\ncivic group the effects of the acquisitive instincts were limited by the\nfact that individuals in their industrial relations were also kin or\nneighbors.\n\n=The Business Enterprise.=--In the business enterprise--partnership,\ncompany, corporation, \"trust,\"--on the other hand, men are organized\nsolely for economic purposes. No other interests or ends are regarded.\nCorporations organized for this purpose \"have no souls,\" because they\nconsist of merely the abstract economic interests. While in domestic and\nterritorial agencies the acquisitive forces were to some degree\nbeneficially controlled, they were also injuriously hampered. With the\nrise of business enterprise as a distinct sphere of human action, the\nway was opened for a new force to manifest itself. This brought with it\nboth advantages and disadvantages for the moral and social life as a\nwhole. On the one hand, it increased tremendously the possibilities of\neconomic and industrial efficiency. The size of the enterprise could be\nas large or as small as was needed for the most efficient production,\nand was not, as in family or community agency, sometimes too small and\nsometimes too large. The enterprise could group men according to their\ncapacity for a particular task, and not, as in the other forms, be\ncompelled to take a group already constituted by other than economic or\nindustrial causes. Further, it could without difficulty dispense with\nthe aged or those otherwise unsuited to its purposes. When, moreover, as\nis coming to be increasingly the case, great corporations, each\ncontrolling scores or even hundreds of millions of capital, are linked\ntogether in common control, we have a tremendous force which may be\nwielded as a unit. It is easy to assume--indeed it is difficult for\nmanagers not to assume--that the interests of such colossal\norganizations are of supreme importance, and that diplomacy, tariffs,\nlegislation, and courts should be subordinate. The moral dangers\nattaching to such corporations formed solely for economic purposes are\nobvious, and have found frequent illustration in their actual workings.\nKnowing few or none of the restraints which control an individual, the\ncorporation has treated competitors, employees, and the public in a\npurely economic fashion. This insures certain limited species of\nhonesty, but does not include motives of private sympathy or public\nduty.\n\n=The Labor Union.=--Correlative to these corporate combinations of\ncapital are Labor Unions of various types. They are usually when first\norganized more complex in motive, including social and educational ends,\nand are more emotional, or even passionate in conduct. With age they\ntend to become more purely economic. In the United States they have\nsought to secure better wages, to provide benefits or insurance in case\nof sickness and death, and to gain better conditions in respect of\nhours, of child-labor, and of protection against dangerous machinery,\nexplosions, and occupational diseases. In Great Britain they have also\nbeen successful in applying the cooperative plan to the purchase of\ngoods for consumption. The organizations have been most successful among\nthe skilled trades. For so far as the aim is collective bargaining, it\nis evident that the union will be effective in proportion as it controls\nthe whole supply of labor in the given trade. In the unskilled forms of\nlabor, especially with a constant flow of immigration, it is difficult,\nif not impossible, to maintain organizations comparable with the\norganizations of capital. Hence in conflicts it is natural to expect the\nmoral situations which frequently occur when grossly unequal combatants\nare opposed. The stronger has contempt for the weaker and refuses to\n\"recognize\" his existence. The weaker, rendered desperate by the\nhopelessness of his case when he contends under rules and with weapons\nprescribed by the stronger, refuses to abide by the rules and resorts to\nviolence--only to find that by this he has set himself in opposition to\nall the forces of organized society.\n\n=Group Morality Again.=--The striking feature of the new conditions is\nthat it means a _reversion to group morality_. That is, it has meant\nthis so far. Society is struggling to reassert a general moral standard,\nbut it has not yet found a standard, and has wavered between a rigid\ninsistence upon outgrown laws on the one hand, and a more or less\nemotional and unreasoned sympathy with new demands, upon the other.[225]\nGroup morality meant impersonal, collective life. It meant loyalty to\none's own group, little regard for others, lack of responsibility, and\nlack of a completely social standard. There is, of course, one important\ndifference. The present collective, impersonal agencies are not so naive\nas the old kinship group. They can be used as effective agencies to\nsecure definite ends, while the manipulators secure all the advantages\nof the old solidarity and irresponsibility.\n\n=Members and Management.=--The corporation in its idea is democratic.\nFor it provides for the union of a number of owners, some of them it may\nbe small owners, under an elected management. It would seem to be an\nadmirable device for maintaining concentration of power with\ndistribution of ownership. But the very size of modern enterprises and\nunions prevents direct control by stockholders or members. They may\ndislike a given policy, but they are individually helpless. If they\nattempt to control, it is almost impossible, except in an extraordinary\ncrisis, to unite a majority for common action.[226] The directors can\ncarry on a policy and at the same time claim to be only agents of the\nstockholders, and therefore not ultimately responsible. What influence\ncan the small shareholders in a railway company, or a great industrial\ncorporation, or labor union, have? They unite with ease upon one point\nonly: they want dividends or results. When an illegal policy is to be\npursued, or a legislature or jury is to be bribed, or a non-union man is\nto be \"dealt with,\" the head officials likewise seek only \"results.\"\nThey turn over the responsibility to the operating or \"legal\"\ndepartment, or to the \"educational committee,\" and know nothing further.\nThese departments are \"agents\" for the stockholders or union, and\ntherefore, feel quite at ease. The stockholders are sure they never\nauthorized anything wrong. Some corporations are managed for the\ninterest of a large number of owners; some, on the other hand, by\ningenious contracts with side corporations formed from an inner circle,\nare managed for the benefit of this inner circle. The tendency,\nmoreover, in the great corporations is toward a situation in which\nboards of directors of the great railroad, banking, insurance, and\nindustrial concerns are made up of the same limited group of men. This\naggregate property may then be wielded as absolutely as though owned by\nthese individuals. If it is used to carry a political election the\ndirectors, according to New York courts, are not culpable.\n\n=Employer and Employed.=--The same impersonal relation often prevails\nbetween employer and employed. The ultimate employer is the stockholder,\nbut he delegates power to the director, and he to the president, and he\nto the foreman. Each is expected to get results. The employed may\ncomplain about conditions to the president, and be told that he cannot\ninterfere with the foreman, and to the foreman and be told that such is\nthe policy of the company. The union may serve as a similar buffer.\nOften any individual of the series would act humanely or generously, if\nhe were acting for himself. He cannot be humane or generous with the\nproperty of others, and hence there is no humanity or generosity in the\nwhole system. This system seems to have reached its extreme in the\ncreation of corporations for the express purpose of relieving employers\nof any personal responsibility. Companies organized to insure employers\nagainst claims made by employees on account of injuries may be regarded\nas a device for distributing the burden. But as the company is\norganized, not primarily to pay damages, as are life insurance\ncompanies, but to avoid such payment, it has a powerful motive in\ncontesting every claim, however just, and in making it so expensive to\nprosecute a claim that the victims may prefer not to make the attempt.\nThe \"law's delay\" can nearly always be counted upon as a powerful\ndefense when a poor man is plaintiff and a rich corporation is\ndefendant.\n\n=Relations to the Public.=--The relations of corporations to the public,\nand of the public to corporations, are similarly impersonal and\nnon-moral. A convenient way of approach to this situation is offered by\nthe ethical, or rather non-ethical, status of the various mechanical\ndevices which have come into use in recent years for performing many\neconomic services. The weighing machines, candy machines, telephones,\nare supposed to give a certain service for a penny or a nickel. But if\nthe machine is out of order, the victim has no recourse. His own\nattitude is correspondingly mechanical. He regards himself as dealing,\nnot with a person, but with a thing. If he can exploit it or \"beat\" it,\nso much the better. Now a corporation, in the attitude which it takes\nand evokes, is about half-way between the pure mechanism of a machine\nand the completely personal attitude of a moral individual. A man is\novercharged, or has some other difficulty with an official of a railroad\ncompany. It is as hopeless to look for immediate relief as it is in the\ncase of a slot machine. The conductor is just as much limited by his\norders as the machine by its mechanism. The man may later correspond\nwith some higher official, and if patience and life both persist long\nenough, he will probably recover. But to prevent fraud, the company is\nobliged to be more rigorous than a person would be who was dealing with\nthe case in a personal fashion. Hence the individual with a just\ngrievance is likely to entertain toward the corporation the feeling that\nhe is dealing with a machine, not with an ethical being, even as the\ncompany's servants are not permitted to exercise any moral consideration\nin dealing with the public. They merely obey orders. Public sentiment,\nwhich would hold an individual teamster responsible for running over a\nchild, or an individual stage owner responsible for reckless or careless\nconduct in carrying his passengers, feels only a blind rage in the case\nof a railroad accident. It cannot fix moral responsibility definitely\nupon either stockholder or management or employee, and conversely\nneither stockholder, nor manager, nor employee[227] feels the moral\nrestraint which the individual would feel. He is not wholly responsible,\nand his share in the collective responsibility is so small as often to\nseem entirely negligible.\n\n=Relations to the Law.=--The collective business enterprises, when\nincorporated, are regarded as \"juristic persons,\" and so gain the\nsupport of law as well as become subject to its control. If the great\ncorporation can thus gain the right of an individual, it can enter the\nfield of free contract with great advantage. Labor unions have not\nincorporated, fearing, perhaps, to give the law control over their\nfunds. They seek a higher standard of living, but private law does not\nrecognize this as a right. It merely protects contracts, but leaves it\nto the individual to make the best contract he can. As most wage-earners\nhave no contracts, but are liable to dismissal at any time, the unions\nhave seen little to be gained by incorporation. They have thus missed\ncontact with the institution in which society seeks to embody, however\ntardily, its moral ideas and have been, in a sense, outlaws. They were\nsuch at first by no fault of their own, for the law treated such\ncombinations as conspiracies. And they are still at two decided\ndisadvantages. First, the capitalistic or employing corporation acting\nas a single juristic person may refuse to buy the labor of a union;\nindeed, according to a recent decision, it cannot be forbidden to\ndischarge its employees because of their membership in a union. As the\ncorporation may employ scores of thousands, and be practically the only\nemployer of a particular kind of labor, it can thus enforce a virtual\nboycott and prevent the union from selling its labor. It does not need\nto use a \"blacklist\" because the employers are all combined in one\n\"person.\" On the other hand, the union is adjudged to act in restraint\nof interstate commerce if it boycotts the employing corporation. The\nunion is here treated as a combination, not as a single person. The\nsecond point in which the employing body has greatly the legal advantage\nappears in the case of a strike. Men are allowed to quit work, but this\nis not an effective method of exerting pressure unless the employer is\nanxious to keep his plant in operation and can employ no one else. If he\ncan take advantage of an open labor market and hire other workmen, the\nonly resource of the strikers is to induce these to join their ranks.\nBut they have been enjoined by the courts, not only from intimidating,\nbut even from persuading[228] employees to quit work. The method of\nprocedure in enforcing the injunction, which enables the judge to fix\nthe offense, eliminate trial by jury, determine the guilt, and impose\nany penalty he deems fit, has all the results of criminal process with\nnone of its limitations, and forms a most effective agency against the\nunions. Where persuasion is enjoined it is difficult to see how a union\ncan exert any effective pressure except in a highly skilled trade, where\nit can control all the labor supply. In the field of private rights and\nfree contract, the labor unions are then at a disadvantage because they\nhave no rights which are of any value for their purposes, except, under\ncertain conditions, the right to refuse to work. And since this is, in\nmost cases, a weapon that injures its wielder far more than his\nopponent, it is not effective.\n\nDisappointed in the field of free contract, the labor unions seek to\nenlist public agency in behalf of better sanitary conditions and in\nprevention of child-labor, long hours for women, unfair contracts, and\nthe like. Capitalistic corporations frequently resist this change of\nvenue on the ground that it interferes with free contract or takes away\nproperty without \"due process of law,\" and many laws have been set aside\nas unconstitutional on these grounds,[229] several of them no doubt\nbecause so drawn as to appear to be in the interest of a class, rather\nthan in that of the public. The trend in the direction of asserting\nlarger public control both under the police power and over corporations\nin whose service the public has a direct interest, will be noted later.\nAgainst other corporations the general public or the unsuccessful\ncompetitor has sought legal aid in legislation against \"trusts,\" but\nthis has mainly proved to be futile. It has merely induced a change in\nform of organization. Nor has it been easy as yet for the law to\nexercise any effective control over the business corporation on any of\nthe three principles invoked--namely: to prevent monopoly, to secure the\npublic interest in the case of public service corporations, and to\nassert police power. For penalties by fine frequently fail to reach the\nguilty persons, and it is difficult to fix any personal responsibility.\nJuries are unwilling to convict subordinate officials of acts which\nthey believe to have been required by the policy of the higher\nofficials, while, on the other hand, the higher officials are seldom\ndirectly cognizant of criminal acts. Gradually, however, we may believe\nthat the law will find a way to make both capital and labor\norganizations respect the public welfare, and to give them support in\ntheir desirable ends. The cooperative principle cannot be outlawed; it\nmust be more fully socialized.\n\n\nSec. 4. THE METHODS OF PRODUCTION, EXCHANGE, AND VALUATION\n\n=The Machine.=--The technique of production has shown a similar progress\nfrom individual to collective method. The earlier method was that of\nhandicraft. The present method in most occupations, aside from\nagriculture, is that of the machine. But the great economic advantage of\nthe machine is not only in the substitution of mechanical power for\nmuscle; it is also in the substitution of collective for individual\nwork. It is the machine which makes possible on a tremendously effective\nbasis the division of labor and its social organization. The\nextraordinary increase in wealth during the past century depends upon\nthese two factors. The machine itself moreover, in its enormous\nexpansion, is not only a social tool, but a social product. The\ninvention and discovery which gave rise to the new processes in industry\nof every sort were largely the outcome of scientific researches carried\non at public expense to a great extent by men other than those who\nfinally utilize their results. They become in turn the instruments for\nthe production of wealth, which is thus doubly social in origin.\n\nThis machine process has an important bearing upon the factors of\ncharacter mentioned in our analysis. It standardizes efficiency; it\ncalls for extraordinary increase of speed; it requires great\nspecialization of function and often calls for no knowledge of the whole\nprocess. On the other hand, it gives a certain sense of power to\ncontrol and direct highly complicated machinery. In the more skilled\ntrades there is more time and resource for intellectual, aesthetic, or\nsocial satisfactions. The association of workmen favors discussion of\ncommon interests, sympathy, and cooperation; this may evoke a readiness\nto sacrifice individual to group welfare, which is quite analogous to\npatriotic sentiment at its best, even if it is liable to such violent\nexpressions as characterize patriotic sentiment at its worst. The\nassociation of workmen is one of the most significant features of modern\nindustry.\n\n=Capital and Credit.=--The technique of exchange of services and goods\nhas undergone a transformation from an individual and limited to a\ncollective and almost unlimited method. The earlier form of exchange and\nbarter limited the conduct of business to a small area, and the simpler\nform of personal service involved either slavery or some personal\ncontrol which was almost as direct. With the use of money it became\npossible to make available a far greater area for exchange and to\naccumulate capital which represented the past labors of vast numbers of\nindividuals. With the further discovery of the possibilities of a credit\nsystem which business enterprise now employs, it is possible to utilize\nin any enterprise not merely the results of the labor of the past, but\nthe anticipated income of the future. A corporation, as organized at\npresent, issues obligations in the form of bonds and stock which\nrepresent no value as yet produced, but only the values of labor or\nprivilege anticipated. The whole technique, therefore, of capital and\ncredit means a collective business enterprise. It masses the work and\nthe abilities of thousands and hundreds of thousands in the past and the\nfuture, and wields the product as an almost irresistible agency to\nachieve new enterprises or to drive from the field rival enterprises.\n\n=Basis of Valuation.=--The whole basis for value and prices has also\nbeen changed. The old basis, employed for the most part through the\nMiddle Ages in fixing the value of labor or goods, was the amount of\nlabor and material which had been expended. The modern basis is that of\nsupply and demand. This proceeds on the theory that it is human wants\nwhich after all give value to any product. I may have expended time and\nlabor upon a book or carving, or in the cultivation of a new vegetable,\nor in the manufacture of an article for apparel, but if no one cares to\nread the book or look at the carving, if the vegetable is one that no\none can eat, or the garment is one that no one will wear, it has no\nvalue. Starting then from this, we can see how the two elements in\nvaluation--namely, demand and supply--are affected by social factors.\nThe demand for an article depends upon the market: i.e., upon how many\nbuyers there are, and what wants they have. Modern methods of\ncommunication and transportation have made the market for goods as large\nas the civilized world. Education is constantly awakening new wants. The\nfacilities for communication, for travel, and for education are\nconstantly leading one part of the world to imitate the standards or\nfashions set by other parts. We have, therefore, a social standard for\nvaluation which is constantly extending in area and in intensity.\n\nThe other factor in valuation, namely, the supply, is likewise being\naffected in an increasing degree by social forces. With many, if not\nwith most, of the commodities which are of greatest importance, it has\nbeen found that there is less profit in an unrestricted supply than in a\nsupply regulated in the interest of the producers. The great coal mines,\nthe iron industries, the manufacturers of clothing, find it more\nprofitable to combine and produce a limited amount. The great\ncorporations and trusts have usually signalized their acquisition of a\nmonopoly or an approximate control of any great field of production by\nshutting down part of the factories formerly engaged. The supply of\nlabor is likewise limited by the policies of labor unions in limiting\nthe number of apprentices allowed, or by other means of keeping the\nunion small. Tariffs, whether in the interest of capital or of labor,\nare a social control of the supply. Franchises, whether of steam\nrailroads, street transportation, gas, electric lighting, or other\npublic utilities so-called, are all of them in the nature of monopolies\ngranted to a certain group of individuals. Their value is dependent upon\nthe general need of these utilities, coupled with the public limitation\nof supply. In many cases the services are so indispensable to the\ncommunity that the servant does not need to give special care or thought\nto the rendering of especially efficient service. The increase in\npopulation makes the franchises enormously profitable without any\ncorresponding increase of risk or effort on the part of the utility\ncompany.\n\nBut the most striking illustration of the creation of values by society\nis seen in the case of land. That an acre of land in one part of the\ncountry is worth fifty dollars, and in another part two hundred thousand\ndollars,[230] is not due to any difference in the soil, nor for the most\npart to any labor or skill or other quality of the owner. It is due to\nthe fact that in the one case there is no social demand, whereas, in the\nother, the land is in the heart of a city. In certain cases, no doubt,\nthe owner of city real estate may help by his enterprise to build up the\ncity, but even if so this is incidental. The absentee owner profits as\nmuch by the growth of the city as the foremost contributor to that\ngrowth. The owner need not even improve the property by a building. This\nenormous increase in land values has been called the \"unearned\nincrement.\" In America it is due very largely to features of natural\nlocation and transportation. It has seemed to some writers, such as\nHenry George, not only a conspicuous injustice, but the root of all\neconomic evil. It is, no doubt, in many cases, a conspicuous form of\n\"easy money,\" but the principle is not different from that which is\ninvolved in nearly all departments of modern industry. The wealth of\nmodern society is really a gigantic pool. No individual knows how much\nhe creates; it is a social product. To estimate what any one should\nreceive by an attempted estimate of what he has individually contributed\nis absolutely impossible.\n\n\nSec. 5. THE FACTORS WHICH AID ETHICAL RECONSTRUCTION\n\nThe two distinctive features of the modern economic situation, its\ncollective character and its impersonal character, are themselves\ncapable of supplying valuable aid toward understanding the ethical\nproblems and in making the reconstruction required. For _the very\nmagnitude of modern operations and properties serves to bring out more\nclearly the principles involved_. _The impersonal character allows\neconomic forces pure and simple to be seen in their moral bearings._\nPublicity becomes a necessity. Just as the factories are compelled to\nhave better light, air, and sanitation than the sweat shops, so public\nattention is aroused and the conscience stimulated by practices of great\ncorporations, although these practices may be in principle precisely the\nsame as those of private persons which escape moral reprobation. In some\ncases, no doubt, the very magnitude of the operation does actually\nchange the principle. A \"lift\" on the road from an oldtime stage-driver,\nor a \"special bargain\" at a country store was not likely to disturb the\nbalance of competition as a system of free passes or secret rebates may\nin modern business. But in other cases what the modern organizations\nhave done is simply to exhibit the workings of competition or other\neconomic forces _on a larger scale_. An illustration of this is seen in\nthe familiar fact that a law passed to correct some corporate practice\nis often found to apply to many practices not contemplated by the makers\nof the law.\n\nThe effect of getting a principle out into the open and at work on a\nlarge scale is to make public judgment clear and reprobation of bad\npractices more effective. The impersonal factor likewise contributes\npowerfully to make condemnation easy. Criticism is unhampered by the\nconsiderations which complicate the situation when the conduct of an\nindividual is in question. The individual may be a good neighbor, or a\ngood fellow, or have had bad luck. But no one hesitates to express his\nopinion of a corporation, and the average jury is not biased in its\nfavor, whatever may be true of the bench. Even the plea that the\ncorporation includes widows and orphans among its shareholders, which is\noccasionally put forth to avert interference with corporate practices,\nusually falls on unsympathetic ears. A higher standard will be demanded\nfor business conduct, a more rigid regard for public service will be\nexacted, a more moderate return for invested capital in public service,\nand a more liberal treatment of employees will be insisted upon from\ncorporations than from private individuals. Nor does the organization of\nlabor escape the same law. When an agent of a union has been detected in\ncalling a strike for private gain, public sentiment has been as severe\nin condemnation as in the case of corporate officials who have profited\nat the expense of stockholders.\n\n=Summary.=--We may summarize some of the chief points brought out by our\nanalysis. Modern technique has increased enormously the productivity of\nlabor, but has increased its dangers to health and life, and to some\nextent diminished its educating and moralizing values. The impersonal\nagencies give vast power, but make responsibility difficult to locate.\nThe collective agencies and the social contributions make the economic\nprocess a great social pool. Men put in manual labor, skill, capital.\nSome of it they have inherited from their kin; some they have inherited\nfrom the inventors and scientists who have devised tools and processes;\nsome they have wrought themselves. This pooling of effort is possible\nbecause of good government and institutions which were created by\nstatesmen, patriots, and reformers, and are maintained by similar\nagencies. The pool is immensely productive. But no one can say just how\nmuch his contribution earns. Shall every one keep what he can get? Shall\nall share alike? Or shall there be other rules for division--either made\nand enforced by society or made by the individual and enforced by his\nown conscience? Are our present rules adequate to such a situation as\nthat of the present? These are some of the difficult questions that\nmodern conditions are pressing upon the man who thinks.\n\n\nLITERATURE\n\nBesides the classic treatises of Adam Smith, J. S. Mill, and Karl Marx,\nwhich are important for the relation of the economic to the whole social\norder during the past century, the following recent works in the general\nfield give especial prominence to the ethical problems involved:\nMarshall, _Principles of Economics_, 1898; Hadley, _Economics_, 1896;\nClark, _Essentials of Economic Theory as Applied to Modern Problems of\nIndustry and Public Policy_, 1907; George, _Progress and Poverty_, 1879;\nSchmoller, _Grundriss der allgemeinen Staatswirtschaftslehre_, 1900-04;\nBonar, _Philosophy and Political Economy_, 1893; Hobson, _The Social\nProblem_, 1901; Brooks, _The Social Unrest_, 1903.\n\nON MODERN BUSINESS AND INDUSTRY: Veblen, _The Theory of Business\nEnterprise_, 1904; Taylor, _The Modern Factory System_, 1891; Hobson,\n_Evolution of Modern Capitalism_, 1894; Toynbee, _The Industrial\nRevolution_, 1890; Adams and Sumner, _Labor Problems_, 1905; S. and B.\nWebb, _History of Trade Unionism_, 1894, _Problems of Modern Industry_,\n1898, and _Industrial Democracy_, 1902; Mitchell, _Organized Labor_,\n1903; Ely, _The Labor Movement in America_, 1886; Hollander and Barnett,\n_Studies in American Trades Unionism_, 1907; Henderson, _Social\nElements_, 1898, chs. vii.-x.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[223] Veblen, _Theory of Business Enterprise_, p. 291.\n\n[224] _Republic_, 550. Davies and Vaughan.\n\n[225] E.g., in a strike there is sometimes a toleration by public\nsentiment of a certain amount of violence where it is believed that\nthere is no legal remedy for unfair conditions.\n\n[226] Recent elections in the great insurance companies have shown this.\n\n[227] \"J. O. Fagan,\" in the _Atlantic Monthly_ (1908), has called\nattention to the influence of the union in shielding individuals from\nthe penalties of carelessness.\n\n[228] Recent Illinois decisions (216 Ill., 358 f., and especially 232\nIll., 431-440) uphold sweeping injunctions against persuasion, no matter\nhow peaceable. \"Lawful competition, which may injure the business of a\nperson, even though successfully directed to driving him out of\nbusiness, is not actionable.\" But for a union to hire laborers away from\nan employer by money or transportation is not \"lawful competition.\" The\nobject is assumed by the court to be malicious, i.e., the injury of the\nemployer. The court does not entertain the possibility that to obtain an\neight-hour day is as lawful an aim for the labor union as to acquire\nproperty is for an employer. The decision shows clearly the difference\nin legal attitude toward pressure exerted by business corporations for\nthe familiar end of acquisition, and that exerted by the union for the\nnovel end of a standard of living. The court regards the injury to\nothers as incidental in the former, but as primary and therefore as\nmalicious in the latter. It may be that future generations will regard\nthis judicial psychology somewhat as we regard some of the cases cited\nabove, ch. xxi. Other courts have not always taken this view, and have\npermitted persuasion unless it is employed in such a manner or under\nsuch circumstances as to \"operate on fears rather than upon their\njudgments or their sympathies\" (17., _N. Y. Supp._, 264). For other\ncases, _Am. and Eng. Decisions in Equity_, 1905, p. 565 f.; also _Eddy\non Combinations_.\n\n[229] The list appended was bulletined at the Chicago Industrial Exhibit\nof 1906, and reprinted in _Charities and The Commons_.\n\n\"What 'Freedom of Contract' has Meant to Labor:\n\n1. Denial of eight-hour law for women in Illinois.\n\n2. Denial of eight-hour law for city labor or for mechanics and ordinary\nlaborers.\n\n3. Denial of ten-hour law for bakers.\n\n4. Inability to prohibit tenement labor.\n\n5. Inability to prevent by law employer from requiring employee as\ncondition of securing work, to assume all risk from injury while at\nwork.\n\n6. Inability to prohibit employer selling goods to employees at greater\nprofit than to non-employees.\n\n7. Inability to prohibit mine owners screening coal which is mined by\nweight before crediting same to employees as basis of wages.\n\n8. Inability to legislate against employer using coercion to prevent\nemployee becoming a member of a labor union.\n\n9. Inability to restrict employer in making deductions from wages of\nemployees.\n\n10. Inability to compel by law payment of wages at regular intervals.\n\n12. Inability to provide by law that laborers on public works shall be\npaid prevailing rate of wages.\n\n13. Inability to compel by law payment of extra compensation for\novertime.\n\n14. Inability to prevent by law employer from holding back part of\nwages.\n\n15. Inability to compel payment of wages in cash; so that employer may\npay in truck or scrip not redeemable in lawful money.\n\n16. Inability to forbid alien labor on municipal contracts.\n\n17. Inability to secure by law union label on city printing.\"\n\nLabor representatives speak of \"the ironic manner in which the courts\nguarantee to workers: The right to be maimed and killed without\nliability to the employer; the right to be discharged for belonging to a\nunion; the right to work as many hours as employers please and under any\nconsiderations which they may impose.\" The \"irony\" is, of course, not\nintended by the courts. It is the irony inherent in a situation when\nrules designed to secure justice become futile, if not a positive cause\nof injustice, because of changed conditions.\n\n[230] In Greater New York. An acre on Manhattan Island is of course\nworth much more. The Report of the New York Tax Department for 1907 is\nvery suggestive.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII\n\nSOME PRINCIPLES IN THE ECONOMIC ORDER\n\n\nCertain problems suggested by the foregoing analysis are unsettled, for\nthe issues are so involved, and in some cases, both the facts and their\ninterpretations are so much in controversy, that we cannot yet formulate\nsure moral judgments. On the other hand, certain principles emerge with\na good degree of clearness. We state some of the more obvious.\n\n=1. Wealth and Property are Subordinate in Importance to\nPersonality.=--The life is more than meat. Most agree to this, stated\nabstractly, but many fail to make the application. They may sacrifice\ntheir own health, or human sympathy, or family life; or they may consent\nto this actively or passively as employers, or consumers, or citizens,\nin the case of others. A civilization which loses life in providing the\nmeans to live is not highly moral. A society which can afford luxuries\nfor some cannot easily justify unhealthful conditions of production, or\nlack of general education. An individual who gratifies a single appetite\nat the expense of vitality and efficiency is immoral. A society which\nconsiders wealth or property as ultimate, whether under a conception of\n\"natural rights\" or otherwise, is setting the means above the end, and\nis therefore unmoral or immoral.\n\n=2. Wealth Should Depend on Activity.=--The highest aspect of life on\nits individual side is found in active and resolute achievement, in the\nembodying of purpose in action. Thought, discovery, creation, mark a\nhigher value than the satisfaction of wants, or the amassing of goods.\nIf the latter is to be a help it must stimulate activity, not deaden it.\nInherited wealth without any accompanying incitement from education or\nclass feeling or public opinion would be a questionable institution from\nthis point of view. Veblen in his _Theory of the Leisure Class_ points\nout various forms of degeneration that may attend upon leisure, when\nleisure means not merely release from mechanical labor in the interest\nof more intellectual activity, but a relinquishing of all serious labor.\nAs the race has made its ascent in the presence of an environment which\nhas constantly selected the more active persons, society in its\ninstitutions and consciously directed processes may well plan to keep\nthis balance between activity and reward. Modern charity has adopted\nthis principle. We fear to pauperize by giving aid to the poor unless we\ncan provide some form of self-help. But in its treatment of the rich,\nsociety is not solicitous. Our provisions for inheritance of property\nundoubtedly pauperize a certain proportion of those who inherit. Whether\nthis can be prevented without interfering with motives to activity on\nthe part of those who acquire the property, or whether the rich thus\npauperized are not as well worth saving to society as the poor, will\nundoubtedly become more pressing problems as the number of inheritors\nincreases, and society recognizes that it may have a duty to its idle\nrich as well as to its idle poor.\n\n=3. Public Service Should Go Along with Wealth.=--Note that we do not\nsay, \"wealth should be proportionate to public service.\" This would take\nus at once into the controversy between the individualist and the\nsocialist which we shall consider later among the unsettled problems.\nThe individualist, as represented, for example, by Herbert Spencer,\nwould say that except for the young, the aged, or the sick, reward\nshould be proportioned to merit. The socialist, on the other hand, is\nmore inclined to say, \"From each according to his ability, to each\naccording to his needs.\" In either case, it is assumed that there\nshould be public service. Leaving for later consideration the question\nwhether we can fix any quantitative rule, let us notice at this time why\nsome service is a fundamental moral principle.\n\nSuch service in the form of some economically useful contribution,\nwhether to the production and distribution of goods, to the public\norder, to education, to the satisfaction of aesthetic and religious\nwants, might be demanded as a matter of common honesty. This would be to\ntreat it as a just claim made by society upon each of its members. There\nis, of course, no legal claim. The law is far from adopting as a\nuniversal maxim, \"If any man will not work, neither let him eat.\"\nVagrancy is not a term applied to all idlers. It is sufficient for the\nlaw if some of a man's ancestors obtained possession and title by\nservice, or force, or gift. Modern law, in its zeal to strengthen the\ninstitution of property, releases all the owner's posterity forever from\nthe necessity of any useful service. The old theology used to carry the\nconception of inherited or imputed sin and merit to extremes which\nmodern individualism rejects. But the law--at least in the United\nStates--permits a perpetual descent of inherited property; i.e., of\ninherited permission to receive from society without rendering any\npersonal return. Theologically and morally, however, the man of to-day\nrepudiates any conception which would reduce him to a shadow of another.\nHe wishes to stand on his own feet, to be rewarded or blamed according\nto his own acts, not because of a deed of some one else. To follow out\nthis principle in the economic sphere would require that every man who\nreceives aught from others should feel in duty bound to render some\nservice. Merely \"to have been born\" is hardly sufficient in a democratic\nsociety, however munificent a contribution to the social weal the French\naristocrat may have felt this to be.\n\nBut it is only one aspect of the case to say that society may claim\nservice as a just due. There is another aspect--what this service means\nto the person himself. It is his opportunity to fulfill his function in\nthe social organism. Now a person is as large as his purpose and will.\nThe person, therefore, who identifies his purposes with the welfare of\nthe public is thereby identifying himself with the whole social body. He\nis no longer himself alone; he is a social power. Not only the leader of\nsociety, but every efficient servant makes himself an organ through\nwhich society itself acts and moves forward. This is perhaps most\nconspicuous in the case of the great inventors or organizers of industry\nand society. By serving civilization they have become its bearers and\nhave thus shared its highest pulses. But it is true of every laborer. As\nhe is an active contributor he becomes creative, not merely receptive.\n\n=4. The Change from Individual to Collective Methods, of Industry and\nBusiness Demands a Change from Individual to Collective Types of\nMorality.=--Moral action is either to accomplish some positive good or\nto hinder some wrong or evil. But under present conditions the\nindividual by himself is practically helpless and useless for either\npurpose. It was formerly possible for a man to set a high standard and\nlive up to it, irrespective of the practice or cooperation of others.\nWhen a seller's market was limited to his acquaintance or a limited\nterritory, it might well be that honesty or even fair dealing was the\nbest policy. But with the changes that have come in business conditions\nthe worse practices, like a baser coinage, tend to drive out the morally\nbetter. This may not apply so thoroughly to the relations between seller\nand buyer, but it applies to many aspects of trade. A merchant may\ndesire to pay his women clerks wages on which they can support life\nwithout selling their souls. But if his rival across the street pays\nonly half the wage necessary for subsistence, it is evident the former\nis in so far at a disadvantage. Extend the same policy. Let the former\nhave his goods made under good conditions and the latter have no scruple\nagainst \"sweating\"; let the former pay taxes on an honest estimate and\nthe latter \"see\" the assessor, or threaten to move out of town if he is\nassessed for more than a figure named by himself; let the former ask\nonly for a fair chance, while the latter secures legislation that favors\nhis own interests, or gets specifications for bids worded so that they\nwill exclude his opponents, or in selling to public bodies \"fixes\" the\ncouncils or school committees, or obtains illegal favors in\ntransportation. Let this continue, and how long will the former stay in\nthe field? Even as regards quality of goods, where it would seem more\nplausible that honest dealing might succeed, experience has shown that\nthis depends on whether the frauds can be easily detected. In the case\nof drugs and goods where the adulterations cannot be readily discovered,\nthere is nothing to offset the more economical procedure of the\nfraudulent dealer. The fact that it is so difficult to procure pure\ndrugs and pure food would seem to be most plausibly due to the fatal\ncompetition of the adulterated article.\n\nOr, suppose a person has a little property invested in some one of the\nvarious corporations which offer the most convenient method for placing\nsmall sums as well as large. This railroad defies the government by\nowning coal mines as well as transporting the product; that public\nservice corporation has obtained its franchise by bribery; this\ncorporation is an employer of child labor; that finds it less expensive\nto pay a few damage suits--those it cannot fight successfully--than to\nadopt devices which will protect employees. Does a man, or even an\ninstitution, act morally if he invests in such corporations in which he\nfinds himself helpless as an individual stockholder? And if he sells his\nstock at the market price to invest the money elsewhere, is it not\nstill the price of fraud or blood? If, finally, he buys insurance for\nhis family's support, recent investigation has shown that he may have\nbeen contributing unawares to bribery of legislatures, and to the\nsupport of political theories to which he may be morally opposed. The\nindividual cannot be moral in independence. The modern business\ncollectivism forces a collective morality. Just as the individual cannot\nresist the combination, so individual morality must give place to a more\nrobust or social type.\n\n=5. To Meet the Change to Corporate Agency and Ownership, Ways Must be\nFound to Restore Personal Control and Responsibility.=--Freedom and\nresponsibility must go hand in hand. The \"moral liability limited\"\ntheory cannot be accepted in the simple form in which it now obtains. If\nsociety holds stockholders responsible, they will soon cease to elect\nmanagers merely on an economic basis and will demand morality. If\ndirectors are held personally responsible for their \"legal department,\"\nor union officials for their committees, directors and officials will\nfind means to know what their subordinates are doing. \"Crime is always\npersonal,\" and it is not usual for subordinates to commit crimes for the\ncorporation against the explicit wishes of the higher officials. In\ncertain lines the parties concerned have voluntarily sought to restore a\nmore personal relation.[231] It has been found profitable to engage\nforemen who can get on smoothly with workmen. It has proved to be good\neconomy to treat men, whether they sell labor or buy it, with respect\nand fairness.\n\nThe managers of some of the great public service corporations have also\nrecently shown a disposition to recognize some public obligations, with\nthe naive admission that this has been neglected. Labor unions are\ncoming to see the need of conciliating public opinion if they are to\ngain their contests.\n\n=6. To Meet the Impersonal Agencies Society Must Require Greater\nPublicity and Express Its Moral Standards More Fully in Law.=--Publicity\nis not a cure for bad practices, but it is a powerful deterrent agency\nso long as the offenders care for public opinion and not solely for the\napproval of their own class. Professor Ross[232] maintains that in the\nUnited States classes are still so loosely formed that general approval\nis desired by the leaders. Hence he urges that it is possible to enforce\nmoral standards by the \"grilling of sinners.\" But to make this\n\"grilling\" a moral process society needs much more accurate information\nand a more impartial basis for selecting its sinners than present\nagencies afford. The public press is itself in many respects one of the\nmost conspicuous examples of the purely economic motive. The newspaper\nor magazine must interest readers and not displease advertisers. The\nnews is selected, or colored, or worked up to suit particular classes.\nIf a speaker says what the reporter does not regard as interesting he is\nlikely to find himself reported as saying something more striking.\nPublicity bureaus are able to point with pride to the amount of matter,\nfavorable to certain interests, which they place before the public as\nnews. The particular interests singled out for \"exposure\" are likely to\nbe determined more by the anticipated effects on circulation or\nadvertising than by the merits of the case. It is scarcely more\nsatisfactory to leave all the education of public opinion to commercial\ncontrol than to leave all elementary education to private interests.\nPublicity--scientific investigation and public discussion--is indeed\nindispensable, and its greatest value is probably not in the\nexhilarating discharge of righteous indignation, but in the positive\nelevation of standards, by giving completer knowledge and showing the\nfruits of certain practices. A large proportion of the public will wish\nto do the right thing if they can see it clearly, and can have public\nsupport, so that right action will not mean suicide.\n\nBut the logical way to meet the impersonal character of modern economic\nagencies is by the moral consciousness embodied in an impersonal agency,\nthe law. The law is not to be regarded chiefly as an agency for\npunishing criminals. It, in the first place, defines a standard; and, in\nthe next place, _it helps the morally disposed to maintain this standard\nby freeing him from unscrupulous competition_. It is a general principle\nthat to resort to the law is an ethical gain only when the getting\nsomething done is more important than to get it done from the right\nmotive. This evidently applies to acts of corporate bodies. We do not\ncare for their motives. We are not concerned to save their souls. We are\nconcerned only for results--just the place where we have seen that the\npersonal responsibility breaks down. The value of good motives and moral\npurpose is in this case located in those who strive to secure and\nexecute progressive legislation for the public good, and in the personal\nspirit with which this is accepted and carried out by officials.[233]\n\n=7. Every Member of Society Should Share in Its Wealth and in the Values\nMade Possible by It.=--The quantitative basis of division and the method\nfor giving each a share belong to the unsettled problems. But the worth\nand dignity of every human being of moral capacity is fundamental in\nnearly every moral system of modern times. It is implicit in the\nChristian doctrine of the worth of the soul, in the Kantian doctrine of\npersonality, in the Benthamic dictum, \"every man to count as one.\" It is\nimbedded in our democratic theory and institutions. With the leveling\nand equalizing of physical and mental power brought about by modern\ninventions and the spread of intelligence, no State is permanently safe\nexcept on a foundation of justice. And justice cannot be fundamentally\nin contradiction with the essence of democracy. This means that wealth\nmust be produced, distributed, and owned justly: that is, so as to\npromote the individuality of every member of society, while at the same\ntime he must always function as a member, not as an individual. In\ndefining justice some will place freedom first; others, a standard of\nliving. Some will seek fairness by distributing to each an actual share\nof the goods; others, by giving to each a fair chance to get his share\nof goods. Others again have held that if no moral purpose is proposed\nand each seeks to get what he can for himself, the result will be a just\ndistribution because of the beneficent effects of competition. Still\nothers have considered that if the economic process has once been\nestablished on the basis of contracts rather than status or slavery,\njustice may be regarded as the maintenance of these contracts, whatever\nthe effect in actual benefits. These views will be considered under the\nnext topic as unsettled problems.\n\n\nLITERATURE\n\nIn addition to the works cited at the close of the last chapter,\nGiddings, _The Costs of Progress_, in Democracy and Empire, 1901;\nBosanquet (Mrs. B.), _The Standard of Life_, 1898; Bosanquet, B.,\n_Aspects of the Social Problem_, 1895; Stephen, _Social Rights and\nDuties_, 1896; Tufts, _Some Contributions of Psychology toward the\nConception of Justice_, Philosophical Review, xv., 1906, pp. 361-79;\nWoods, _Democracy, a New Unfolding of Human Power_, in Studies in\nPhilosophy and Psychology (Garman Commemorative Volume), 1906.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[231] Hayes Robbins in the _Atlantic Monthly_ for June, 1907, \"The\nPersonal Factor in the Labor Problem.\"\n\n[232] _Sin and Society._\n\n[233] See Florence Kelley, _Some Ethical Gains through Legislation_.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV\n\nUNSETTLED PROBLEMS IN THE ECONOMIC ORDER\n\n\nUnder this head we propose to consider one general and three special\nproblems on which society is at present at work, framing new moral\nstandards to meet new conditions. Many of the questions involved in the\nnew order marshal themselves under a single antithesis. Will the moral\nvalues of wealth be most fully secured and justly distributed by leaving\nto individuals the greatest possible freedom and holding them morally\nresponsible, or by social agency and control? The first theory is known\nas _individualism_. The most convenient term for the second position\nwould be _socialism_.\n\nSocialism, however, is, for many, an epithet rather than a scientific\nconception. It is supposed to mean necessarily the abolition of all\nprivate enterprise or private property. In its extreme form it might\nmean this, as individualism in its extreme form would mean anarchy. But\nas a practical ethical proposition we have before us neither the\nabolition of public agency and control--extreme individualism--nor the\nabolition of private agency and control. We have the problem of getting\nthe proper amount of each in order that the highest morality may\nprevail. Each theory professes to desire the fullest development and\nfreedom of the individual. The individualist seeks it through formal\nfreedom and would limit public agency to a minimum. The socialist is\nwilling to permit limitations on formal freedom in order to secure the\n\"real\" freedom which he regards as more important and substantial.\nBetween the extremes, and borrowing from each, is a somewhat indefinite\nprogramme known as the demand for equal opportunity. Let us consider\neach in a brief statement and then in a more thorough analysis.\n\n\nSec. 1. GENERAL STATEMENT OF THE POSITIONS OF INDIVIDUALISM AND OF\nPUBLIC AGENCY AND CONTROL\n\n=1. Individualism.=--Individualism[234] believes that each man can\nsecure his own welfare better than any one else can secure it for him.\nIt further holds that society is made up of individuals, and hence, if\neach is provided for, the welfare of the whole is secured. Such goods as\nare social can be secured by voluntary association. Believing that the\ncourse of civilization has been \"from status to contract,\" it makes free\ncontract its central principle. It should be the chief business of\norganized society to maintain and safeguard this freedom. It locates the\nimportant feature of freedom precisely in the act of assent, rather than\nin any consideration of whether the after consequences of the assent are\ngood or bad; nor does it ask what motives (force and fraud aside)\nbrought about the assent, or whether there was any other alternative. In\nother words, it regards formal freedom as fundamental. If not in itself\nall that can be desired, it is the first step, and the only one which\nlaw need recognize. The individual may be trusted to take other steps,\nif protected in this. The only restriction upon individual freedom\nshould be that it must not interfere with the equal freedom of others.\nIn the economic sphere this restriction would mean, \"must not interfere\nby force.\" The theory does not regard economic pressure by competition\nas interference. Hence it favors free competition. Leaving out of\naccount benevolence, it holds that in business each should be allowed,\nor even recommended, to seek his own advantage. But when the question as\nto the justice of the distribution reached by this method is raised, a\ndivision appears between the _democratic_ individualists and the\n\"_survival of the fittest_\" individualists. The democratic\nindividualists--Adam Smith, Bentham, Mill[235]--believed that\nindividualism would promote the welfare of _all_ members of society. The\n\"survival of the fittest\" school maintains that the welfare of the race\nor of civilization depends on the sifting and selecting process known as\nthe \"struggle for existence.\" If the \"fittest\" are thus selected and\nsurvive, it matters not so much what is the lot of the rest. We must\nchoose between progress through aristocratic selection and degeneration\nthrough democratic leveling.\n\n=2. Theory of Public Agency and Control.=--Socialism (using the word in\na broad sense) holds that society should secure to all its members the\ngoods of life. It holds that an unrestrained liberty of struggle for\nexistence may secure the survival of the strongest, but not necessarily\nof the morally best. The individualist's theory emphasizes formal\nfreedom. \"Seek first freedom and all other things will be added.\" The\nsocialist view emphasizes the content. It would have all members of\nsociety share in education, wealth, and all the goods of life. In this\nit agrees with democratic individualism. But it considers this\nimpossible on the basis of individual effort. To hold that society as a\nwhole can do nothing for the individual either ignores social goods or\nsupposes the social will, so powerful for democracy in the political\nsphere, to be helpless and futile in the economic world. To assume that\nall the control of economic distribution--the great field of\njustice--may be left to individual freedom and agency, is as archaic as\nto leave the collection of taxes, the administration of provinces, and\nthe education of citizens to private enterprise. It regards the\nunregulated struggle for existence as economically wasteful and morally\nvicious, both in its inequality of distribution and in the motives of\negoism on which it relies. Individualism, on the other hand, so far as\nit is intelligent and does not lump socialism with anarchy and all other\ncriticisms on the established order, regards socialism as ignoring the\nsupreme importance of active personal effort, and the value of freedom\nas the keynote to progress.\n\n=3. Equal Opportunity.=--An intermediate view has for its maxim, \"equal\nopportunity.\" It holds with individualism that the active personality is\nto be stimulated and made a prime end. But because it believes that not\nmerely a few but all persons should be treated as ends, it finds\nindividualism condemned. For it holds that an unregulated struggle for\nexistence does not secure the end individualism professes to seek. When\nindividuals start in the race handicapped by differences in birth,\neducation, family, business, friends, and inherited wealth, _there is no\nselection of ability_; there is _selection of the privileged_. Hence it\nwould borrow so much from socialism as to give each individual a \"fair\nstart.\" This would include public schools, and an undefined amount of\nprovision for sanitation, and for governmental regulation of the\nstronger.\n\nIt is manifest, however, that this theory of the \"square deal\" is a name\nfor a general aim rather than for a definite programme. For a \"square\ndeal,\" or equality of opportunity, might be interpreted to call for a\ngreat variety of concrete schemes, ranging all the way from an\nelementary education up to public ownership of all the tools for\nproduction, and to abolition of the right to bequeath or inherit\nproperty. The peoples of America, Europe, and Australasia are at present\nworking out policies which combine in various degrees the\nindividualistic and the socialistic views. Most have public schools.\nSome have provision for old age and accident through either mutual or\nState systems of insurance and pensions. Let us analyze the moral\naspects of the two opposing theories more thoroughly. It is obvious that\nthe third view is only one of a number of mediating positions.\n\n\nSec. 2. INDIVIDUALISM OR FREE CONTRACT ANALYZED: ITS VALUES\n\n=Efficiency in Production.=--Individualism can make out a strong case in\nrespect to several of the ethical qualities which are demanded: viz.,\nefficiency in production of goods, stimulation of active and forceful\ncharacter, promotion of freedom and responsibility, encouragement to\nwide diversification of occupation and thus of services, and, finally,\nthe supply to society of the kinds of goods which society wants. It\nwould be absurd to credit the enormous increase in production of wealth\nduring the past century to individualism alone, ignoring the\ncontributions of science and education which have been mainly made under\nsocial auspices. It would be as absurd to credit all the gains of the\ncentury in civilization and freedom to individualism as it would be to\ncharge all the wretchedness and iniquity of the century to this same\npolicy. But, setting aside extravagant claims, it can scarcely be\ndoubted that Adam Smith's contentions for greater individual freedom\nhave been justified as regards the tests named. Granting that the great\nincrease in amount and variety of production, and in means of\ncommunication and distribution, has been primarily due to two agencies,\nthe machine and association, it remains true that individualism has\npermitted and favored association and has stimulated invention.\n\n=Initiative and Responsibility.=--Moreover, the general policy of\nturning over to individuals the power and responsibility to regulate\ntheir own acts, is in accord with one great feature of moral\ndevelopment. The evolution of moral personality, as traced in our early\nchapters, shows the individual at first living as a member of a kinship\ngroup which determines his economic as well as his religious and social\nlife, and permits him neither to strike out independently, nor, on the\nother hand, to suffer want so long as the group has supplies. Individual\ninitiative and responsibility have steadily increased, and the economic\ndevelopment has undoubtedly strengthened the development of religious,\npolitical, and moral freedom. It is the combination of these which gives\nthe person of to-day the worth and dignity belonging to autonomy,\nself-government, and democracy.\n\n=Regulation of Production.=--Further, it may be said that supply and\ndemand, individualism's method of regulating prices and the kinds of\ngoods produced, not only accords with a principle of freedom, but also\ngets those goods made which society most needs or wants. If goods of a\ncertain kind are scarce, the high price stimulates production. While it\npermits crises, panics, and hardship, it at least throws the burden of\navoiding hardship upon the foresight of a great many: namely, all\nproducers, rather than upon a few persons who might be designated for\nthe purpose. In thus providing a method to find out what society wants\nand how much, it is performing a social service, and, as we have pointed\nout, it is none the less a service because the goods are to be paid for;\nit is all the more so because they can be paid for. So far, then,\nindividualism has a strong case.\n\n\nSec. 3. CRITICISMS UPON INDIVIDUALISM\n\nThere is undoubtedly great waste in some of its methods, e.g., its\nadvertising and its competitions, but the most serious objections to\nindividualism are not to be found here; they arise in connection with\nthe other ethical criteria of economic morality. They fall chiefly\nunder two heads. (1) Does individualism provide for real as well as\nformal freedom? (2) Does it distribute the benefits widely or to the\nfew? Does it distribute them justly or unjustly?\n\n=It Does Not Secure Real Freedom.=--The distinction between real and\nformal[236] freedom has been forced into prominence by several causes.\nThe division of labor trains a man for a specific kind of work. If there\nis no opening in this he is unable to find work. The continual invention\nof improved machinery is constantly displacing particular sets of\nworkers and rendering their special training worthless. A business panic\ncauses immediate discharge of thousands of laborers. A \"trust\" closes\nseveral of its shops, and workmen who have purchased homes must lose\ntheir jobs or their investments, or perhaps both. The employer is no\nless limited in his conduct by the methods of competing firms; but it is\nthe wage-workers who have felt this lack of real freedom most keenly.\nTheoretically, no one is forced to labor. Every one is free to choose\nwhether he will work, and what work he will do. But in effect, freedom\nof choice depends for its value upon what the alternative is. If the\nchoice is, do this or--starve--the freedom is not worth much. Formal\nfreedom excludes constraint by the direct control or will of others. It\nexcludes violence or fear of violence. But subjection to the stress or\nfear of want, or to the limits imposed by ignorance, is just as fatal to\nfreedom. Hunger is as coercive as violence; ignorance fetters as\nhopelessly as force. Whether a man has any choice of occupation,\nemployment, residence, or wage, depends on his physical strength,\neducation, family ties, and accumulated resources, and on the pressure\nof present need. To speak of free contract where there is gross\ninequality between the parties, is to use a mere form of words. Free\ncontract in this case means simply the right of the stronger to exploit\nthe weaker.\n\n=Individualism and Justice.=--Individualists, as stated, belong to two\nvery different schools, which we may call the democratic and\naristocratic, or perhaps more correctly, if we may coin a word,\n\"oligocratic.\" Democratic individualism would have every man count as\none. It would distribute benefits widely. It holds that since society is\nmade up of individuals all social goods will be secured if each\nindividual seeks and finds his own. Aristocratic individualism[237] has\nbeen reenforced by the Darwinian theory of the struggle for existence as\na condition for \"survival of the fittest,\" by race prejudice, and by\nimperialism. It holds that civilization is for the few \"best,\" not\nnecessarily for the many. Progress lies through the selection of the few\nefficient, masterful, aggressive individuals, races, or nations.\nIndividualism is a policy which favors these few. It is Nature's method\nof dealing. It is of course regrettable that there should be weak,\nbackward, ineffective individuals or races, but their exploitation\nserves the advance of the rest, and benevolence or charity may mitigate\nthe most painful results.\n\nThe older economists of democratic individualism could properly claim\ntwo respects in which economic justice was furthered by economic\nprocesses under free management and exchange. The social body is in\ntruth made up of members, and the old policy had been to tie up the\nmembers to make the body grow. It did promote justice to remove needless\nand excessive restrictions. In the second place, it is true, as the\neconomists insisted, that in a free exchange each party profits if he\ngets what he wants. There is mutual benefit, and so far as this goes\nthere is an element of justice. But while the benefit may be mutual, the\n_amount_ of advantage each gets is not necessarily the same, and if the\nparty who has greater shrewdness or resources takes advantage of a great\nneed on the part of the other, the result may be a very unequal\ndivision. Exchanges of a birthright for a mess of pottage will be\ncommon. Very well, says the individualist, Esau will know better next\ntime--or if he doesn't, he is an object for charity. But the trouble is\nthat even if Esau does \"know better\" he is in even poorer condition next\ntime to make a bargain if his birthright is gone; besides, if starvation\nor misery for himself or his family is his only alternative, what good\nwill it do him to \"know better\"? Can the result, then, be just or fair?\nThis depends on how we define \"just\" and \"fair.\" If we take a purely\nformal view and make formal freedom of contract the only criterion, then\nany price is fair which both parties agree to. The law for the most part\ntakes this view, assuming absence of force or fraud. But this leaves out\nof account everything except the bare formal act of assent. It is too\nabstract a conception of personality on which to base a definition of\njustice. To get the true organic relation of mutual service and benefit\nby a system of individualism we must have the two parties to the bargain\nequal. _But in a large part of the exchange of business and services the\ntwo parties are not equal._ One has greater shrewdness, better\neducation, more knowledge of the market, more accumulated resources,\nand, therefore, less pressing need than the other. The moral\nconsciousness will call prices or contracts unfair where the stronger\ntakes advantage of the weaker's necessities, even if the law does not.\n\n=Competition.=--The fact of competition is depended upon by the\nindividualist to obviate the disadvantages of the weaker party. If A is\nignorant of the market, B may impose upon him; but if C and D are\ncompeting with B for A's goods or services, A will soon find out what\nthey are \"worth.\" That is, he will get for them a social and not a\npurely individual valuation. There is doubtless such a gain to A. But in\nconsidering competition as removing the objections to the unfairness\npossible in bargaining, we must bear in mind two things. First,\ncompetition cuts both ways. It helps A when several compete for his\ngoods or labor; but, on the other hand, it may ruin one of the\ncompetitors. If A is a laborer, it is a good thing if X, Y, and Z,\nemployers, compete for his services. But if the boot is on the other\nfoot, if B, C, and D also are laborers and compete with A for a place,\nwe have the conditions which may lead to the sweat-shop. Whether there\nis any better way to avoid unequal distribution will be considered\nlater. The second and seemingly fatal objection to competition as a\nmeans to justice, is that _free competition under an individualistic\nsystem tends to destroy itself_. For the enormous powers which the new\nforms of economic agency and technique give to the individual who can\nwield them, enable him to crush competitors. The process has been\nrepeated over and over within the past few years in various fields. The\nonly way in which a semblance of competition has been maintained in\nrailroad business has been by appeal to the courts. This is an appeal to\nmaintain individualism by checking individualism, and as might be\nexpected from such a contradictory procedure, has accomplished little.\nNor can it be maintained that the evils may be obviated, as Spencer\nholds, by private restraints on excessive competition. As already\npointed out, if one of a body of competitors is unscrupulous, the rest\nare necessarily at a disadvantage. Under present conditions\nindividualism cannot guarantee, and in many cases cannot permit, just\ndistribution and a true organic society.\n\nThe other school of individualists is not disturbed by inequality of\ngoods. It frankly accedes to the logic of unrestrained competition. It\nstakes its case upon the importance for social welfare of the\nexceptionally gifted few. It is important to have their services. It\ncan have them only on terms which they set, as they will not work unless\nthere is sufficient motive. It is, on this view, perfectly just that all\nthe enormous increase of wealth due to modern methods should go to the\nfew leaders, for their ability has produced it all. \"The able minority\nof men who direct the labor of the majority are the true producers of\nthat amount of wealth by which the annual total output, in any given\ncommunity, exceeds what would have been produced by the laborers if left\nto their own devices, whether working as isolated units or in small\nself-organized groups, and controlled by no knowledge or faculties but\nsuch as are possessed in common by any one who can handle a spade or lay\none brick upon another.\"[238]\n\nEither from the standpoint of natural rights or from that of\nutilitarianism it is proper, according to this school, that all the\nincreasing wealth of society, now and in all future time, should go to\nthe few. For, on the one view, it belongs to the few since they have\nproduced it; and, on the other, it must be given them if society is to\nhave their services. It is possible they may not claim it all for their\nexclusive possession. They may be pleased to distribute some of it in\ngifts. But this is for them to say. The logical method for carrying out\nthis programme would require an absolute abandonment by the people as a\nwhole, or by their representatives, or the courts, of any attempt to\ncontrol economic conditions. The courts would be limited to enforcing\ncontracts and would cease to recognize considerations of public interest\nexcept in so far as these were accepted by the able minority. All such\nlegislation as imposes any check upon the freedom of the individual is\nmischievous. Under this head would presumably come regulation of child\nlabor, of hours, of sanitary conditions, of charges by railroads, gas\ncompanies, and other public service corporations. Graded income or\ninheritance taxes are also to be condemned from this standpoint. It\nshould in fairness be added that while its upholders do not allege as\ntheir main argument that individualism is for the interest of the many,\nthey hold, nevertheless, that the many are really better off under\nindividualism than under socialism. For since all the increase in wealth\nis due to the able few whom individualism produces, and since some of\nthis increase, in cases where the few compete for the custom or labor of\nthe many, may fall to the share of the many or else be given them\noutright by the more generous, it appears that the only hope for the\nmany lies through the few.\n\nThe general naturalistic theory has been discussed in Chapter XVIII.\nHere it is only necessary to point out that it is a misreading of\nevolution to suppose unregulated competition to be its highest category\nof progress, and that it is a misinterpretation of ethics to assume that\nmight is right. With the dawn of higher forms of life, cooperation and\nsympathy prove stronger forces for progress than ruthless competition.\nThe \"struggle\" for any existence that has a claim to moral recognition\nmust be a struggle for more than physical existence or survival of\nforce. It must be a struggle for a _moral_ existence, an existence of\nrational and social beings on terms of mutual sympathy and service as\nwell as of full individuality. Any claim for an economic process, if it\nis to be a moral claim, must make its appeal on moral grounds and to\nmoral beings. If it recognizes only a few as having worth, then it can\nappeal only to these. These few have no moral right to complain if the\nmany, whom they do not recognize, refuse to recognize them.\n\n=Summary of the Ethics of Individualism.=--Individualism provides well\nfor production of quantity and kinds required of goods and services; for\nactivity and formal freedom. Under present conditions of organization\nand modern methods it cannot be made to serve a democratic conception\nof justice, but inevitably passes over into a struggle for preeminence,\nin which the strong and less scrupulous will have the advantage. It can\nbe treated as just only if justice is defined as what is according to\ncontract (formal freedom); or if the welfare of certain classes or\nindividual members of society is regarded as of subordinate importance;\nor, finally, if it is held that this welfare is to be obtained only\nincidentally, as gift, not directly through social action. The criticism\non individualism is then that under a collective system like that of the\npresent, it does scant justice to most individuals. It leaves the many\nout from all active participation in progress or morality.[239]\n\n\nLITERATURE\n\nIndividualism and Socialism are discussed in the works of Hadley,\nVeblen, Hobson, Spencer, Marx, George, already cited; cf. also Menger,\n_The Right to the Whole Produce of Labor_, 1899; Ely, _Socialism and\nSocial Reform_, 1894; Bosanquet, _Individualism and Socialism_, in The\nCivilization of Christendom, 1893; Fite, _The Theory of Democracy_,\nInternational Journal of Ethics, xxviii. (1907), pp. 1-18; Huxley,\n_Administrative Nihilism_, in Essays; Godwin's _Political Justice_,\n1793, raised many of the fundamental questions. Recent representative\nIndividualistic works are: Spencer, _Social Statics_, _The Man versus\nthe State_, various essays in Vol. III. of Essays; Sumner, _What Social\nClasses Owe to Each Other_, 1883; Donisthorpe, _Individualism_, 1889;\nHarris, _Inequality and Progress_, 1897; Mallock, _Socialism_, 1907. On\nSocialism: _Fabian Essays in Socialism_, edited by Shaw, London, 1890,\nNew York, 1891; Spargo, _Socialism_, 1906; Marx and Engels, _The\nCommunist Manifesto_, Eng. tr.; Reeve, _The Cost of Competition_, 1906;\nRae, _Contemporary Socialism_, 1891; Hunter, _Socialists at Work_, 1908;\nWells, _New Worlds for Old_, 1907.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[234] See above, pp. 428 f., 471-6, 483.\n\n[235] In his later years Mill had much more confidence in the value of\nsocial agency.\n\n[236] See above, p. 437 f.\n\n[237] See above, pp. 368 ff.\n\n[238] W. H. Mallock, _Socialism_.\n\n[239] Above, p. 472.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV\n\nUNSETTLED PROBLEMS IN THE ECONOMIC ORDER (CONTINUED)\n\n\nSec. 4. THE THEORY OF PUBLIC AGENCY AND CONTROL\n\nThe various theories of public direction, including socialism in the\ntechnical sense, are primarily interested in the just distribution of\ngoods. It is not so much \"How many goods can be produced?\" as \"Who is to\nget them?\" Individualism was chiefly concerned in increasing public\nwealth, assuming (in the case of the democratic individualists) that all\nwould get the benefit. Socialism is more concerned that the producing\npersons shall not be sacrificed, and that each member shall benefit by\nthe result. Public agency and control might assert itself (1) as a\nmethod of production, (2) as a method of distribution of goods and\nreturns, (3) as a method of property. It is important to note at the\noutset that all civilized peoples have some degree of social direction\nin each of these fields. (1) Practically all peoples collect taxes, coin\nmoney, carry mails, protect life and property, and supply such\nelementary demands as those for water and drainage, through State or\nmunicipal agency instead of leaving it to private initiative. And in\nevery one of the instances the work was formerly done privately. (2)\nUnder distribution, all progressive peoples give education through the\nState. Further, the benefits of the mail service are distributed not in\nproportion to receipts, but on other principles based on social welfare.\n(3) As a method of property-holding, all civilized peoples hold certain\ngoods for common use, and in the United States, after a period in which\nit has been the policy to distribute for little or no compensation\npublic lands, public franchises, and public goods of all kinds, the\npublic policy is now not only to retain large tracts for forest reserve,\nbut to construct irrigation plants, and to provide public parks,\nplaygrounds, and other forms of property to be used for common\nadvantage. Just as the individualist does not necessarily carry his\ndoctrine to the extreme of dispensing with all social agency, at least\nin the matters of public protection and public health, so the socialist\ndoes not necessarily wish to abolish private property or private\nenterprise. We have, then, to consider briefly the ethical aspects of\npublic agency for production, public control over distribution, public\nholding of wealth.\n\n\nSec. 5. SOCIETY AS AGENCY OF PRODUCTION\n\nThe advantage claimed for society as an agent of production is not\nprimarily greater efficiency, although it is claimed that the present\nmethod is enormously wasteful except where there already is private\nmonopoly. Nor is it in the social service rendered by providing great\nvariety of goods, and of the kinds most wanted. It is rather (1) that in\nthe case of public service enterprises, such as transportation or\nlighting, fairness to the various shippers, localities, and other users\ncan be secured only through public control or operation. These services\nare as indispensable to modern life as air or navigation. Only by public\nagency can discrimination be avoided. (2) That the prizes to be gained\nare here so enormous that bribery and corruption are inevitable under\nprivate management. (3) That the profits arising from the growth of the\ncommunity belong to the community, and can only be secured if the\ncommunity owns and operates such agencies of public service as\ntransportation, communication, and in cities water supply and lighting.\n(4) That the method of individualistic production is reckless of child\nlife and in general of the health of workmen. Great Britain is already\nfearing a deterioration in physical stature and capacity. (5) The motive\nof self-interest, relied upon and fostered by individualism, is\nanti-social. How can morality be expected to improve when the\nfundamental agency and method of business and industry is contradictory\nto morality? (6) More complete socialism maintains that, under modern\ncapitalism, a disproportionate share is sure to fall to the capitalist,\nand, more than this, to the great capitalist. Modern production is\ncomplex and expensive. It requires an enormous plant; the capitalist,\nnot the workman, has the tools, and can therefore charge what he\npleases. The small capitalist cannot undertake competition with the\ngreat capitalist, for the latter can undersell him until he drives him\nfrom business, and can then recoup himself by greater gains. Hence the\nonly way to secure fair distribution is through social ownership of the\ntools and materials for production.\n\n=Private Interests and Public Welfare.=--Touching these points it may be\nsaid that the public conscience is rapidly coming to a decision upon the\nfirst five. (1) The public has been exploited, the officials of\ngovernment have been bribed, and individual members of society\ndiscriminated against. The process of competition always involves\n_vae victis_, but the particular factor which makes this not only hard\nbut unjust, is that in all these cases we have a quasi-public agency\n(monopoly, franchise, State-aided corporation) used to give private\nadvantage. This must be remedied either by public ownership or public\ncontrol, unless the ethics of the struggle for existence is accepted.\nThe corruption which has prevailed under (2) must be met either by\npublic ownership or control, or by so reducing the value of such\nfranchises as to leave \"nothing in it\" for the \"grafter\" and his\nco-operators. Vice--gambling, excessive use of drugs and liquors,\nprostitution--is no doubt injurious to its victims, and when leagued\nwith public officials and yielding enormous corruption funds to debauch\npolitics, it is a public evil as well. But its victims are limited, and\nits appearance not attractive to the great majority. The exploitation\nand corruption practiced by the more generally successful and\n\"respectable\" members of society, is far more insidious and\nwide-reaching. It demoralizes not individuals only, but the standards of\nsociety. As to (3) there is no doubt as to the rights of the matter.\nGains due to social growth should be socially shared, not appropriated\nby a few. The only question is as to the best method of securing these\ngains. European States and cities have gone much farther than the United\nStates along the line of public agency, and, while there is still\ndispute as to the balance of advantage in certain cases, there is a\ngrowing sentiment that the more intelligent and upright the community,\nthe more it can wisely undertake. The moral principle is that the public\nmust have its due. Whether it pays certain agents a salary as its own\nofficials, or a commission in the form of a moderate dividend, is not so\nimportant.[240] But to pay a man or a small group of promoters a million\ndollars to supply water or lighting or transportation, seems no more\nmoral than to pay such a salary to a mayor or counsel or superintendent\nof schools. Taxpayers would probably denounce such salaries as robbery.\nSuch franchises as have for the most part been given in American cities\nhave been licenses to collect high taxes from the citizens for the\nbenefit of a few, and do not differ in principle from paying excessive\nsalaries, except as the element of risk enters. What is needed at\npresent in the United States is a larger number of experiments in\nvarious methods of agency to see which type results in least corruption,\nfairest distribution, and best service.\n\n=Conditions of Labor.=--On the fourth point, the necessity of public\ncontrol to regulate child labor, the labor of women, sanitary\nconditions, and the use of dangerous machinery, the public conscience is\nalso awakening. Decisions of the courts on the constitutionality of\nregulating women's labor have been somewhat at variance. But the\nrecently announced decision[241] of the United States Supreme Court in\nthe \"Oregon case\" seems likely to be decisive of the principle that\nwomen may be treated as a class. Freedom of contract cannot be regarded\nas interfering with the right to establish reasonable precautions for\nwomen's health. Woman may be protected \"from the greed as well as from\nthe passion of man.\" The immorality of child labor under modern\nconditions is also becoming clear. For the public to see child life\nstunted physically, mentally, and morally by premature labor under the\nexhausting, deadening, and often demoralizing conditions of modern\nindustry and business, is for the public to consent to wickedness. It\ncannot leave this matter to the conscience of individual manufacturers\nand parents, for the conscientious manufacturer is at a disadvantage,\nand it might with as much morality consent to a parent's starving or\npoisoning his child as to his injuring it in less violent manner. For a\nsociety pretending to be moral to permit little children to be used up\nor stunted under any plea of cheap production or support of parents, is\nnot above the moral level of those peoples which practice infanticide to\nprevent economic stress. Indeed, in the case of a country which boasts\nof its wealth, there is far less justification than for the savage. In\nthe case of provision against accident due to dangerous machinery, the\nethical principle is also clear. To throw all the burden of the\naccidents incident to modern production upon the families of the\nlaborers is entirely unjust. To impose it upon the conscientious\nmanufacturer is no better, for it places him at a disadvantage. This is\na necessary--except so far as it can be minimized by safety\ndevices--part of the modern machine process. It ought to be paid for\neither by all manufacturers, who would then shift it to the consumers in\nthe price of the goods, or by the public as a whole in some form of\ninsurance. European countries have gone much farther than the United\nStates in this direction. The theory that the employer is exempt if a\nfellow workman contributes in any way to the accident has been applied\nin the United States in such a way as to free employers, and thus the\npublic, from any share in the burden of a large part of\naccidents--except as these entail poverty and bring the victim and his\nfamily into the dependent class.\n\nMoreover, it is only by public action that fair conditions of labor can\nbe secured in many trades and under many employers. For the single\nworkman has not the slightest chance to make conditions, and the union\nhas no effective means to support its position unless it represents a\nhighly skilled trade and controls completely the supply of labor. It may\ngo without saying that violence is wrong. But it is often ignored that\nfor a _prosperous society to leave the laborer no remedy but violence\nfor an intolerable condition is just as wrong_.\n\n=Motives.=--(5) On the question of motives the collectivist theory is\nprobably over-sanguine as to the gain to be effected by external means.\nIt is difficult to believe that any change in methods would eliminate\nselfishness. There is abundant exercise of selfishness in political\ndemocracy, and even in families. Further, if it should be settled on\nother grounds that competition in certain cases performs a social\nservice, it would then be possible for a man to compete with a desire\nto serve the public, just as truly as it would be possible to compete\nfor selfish motives. That a process causes pain incidentally does not\nnecessarily pervert the motive of the surgeon or parent. It does, of\ncourse, throw the burden of proof upon the advocate of the process.\nRivalry need not mean enmity if the rivals are on an equal footing and\nplay fair.\n\n=Exploitation of Labor.=--(6) The question whether all capitalistic\nproduction first exploits the laboring class, and then tends to absorb\nor drive out of business the small capitalist, is not so easy of\ndecision. It seems to be easy to make a plausible statement for each\nside by statistical evidence. There seems little doubt that the general\nstandard of living for laborers is rising. On the other hand, the number\nof enormous fortunes seems to rise much faster, and there is an\nappalling amount of poverty in the great cities. This is sometimes\nattributed to thriftlessness or to excessively large families. A careful\nstudy of an English agricultural community, where the conditions seemed\nat least as good as the average, showed that a family could not have\nover two children without sinking below the line of adequate food,\nshelter, and clothing, to say nothing of medical attendance or other\ncomforts. In the United States there has been such a supply of land\navailable that the stress has not been so intense. Just what the\nsituation will be if the country becomes thickly settled cannot be\nforetold. Professor J. B. Clark shows that the tendency in a static\nsociety would be to give the laborer more and more nearly his\nshare--provided there is free competition for his services. The\ndifficulty is that society is not static and that a laborer cannot shift\nat will from trade to trade and from place to place.\n\nThat sometimes capital exploits labor is merely to say that the buyer\nsometimes gets the advantage. That capital usually has the advantage in\nits greater resources may be admitted, but that it _invariably must_\nseems an unwarranted deduction. The multiplication of wants widens\ncontinually the number of occupations and thus increases the competition\nfor the service of the more skilled. In such cases some, at least, of\nthe sellers should be in a position to make a fair bargain. Indeed,\nrecent socialists do not advocate any such complete assumption by\nsociety of all production as is presented in some of the socialistic\nUtopias. Their principle is \"that the State must undertake the\nproduction and distribution of social wealth wherever private enterprise\nis dangerous or less efficient than public enterprise.\"[242]\n\nIt is for those who do not believe in public control to prove that in\nthe great enterprises for the production of the necessaries of life, for\ntransportation, banking, mining, and the like, private enterprise is not\ndangerous. The conduct of many--not all--of these enterprises in recent\nyears, not only in their economic aspects, but in their recklessness of\nhuman life, health, and morality, is what makes socialism a practical\nquestion. If it is adopted, it will not be for any academic or _a\npriori_ reasons. It will be because private enterprise fails to serve\nthe public, and its injustice becomes intolerable. If business\nenterprise, as sometimes threatens, seeks to subordinate political and\nsocial institutions, including legislatures and courts, to economic\ninterests, the choice must be between public control and public\nownership. And if, whether by the inherent nature of legal doctrine and\nprocedure, or by the superior shrewdness of capital in evading\nregulation, control is made to appear ineffective, the social conscience\nwill demand ownership. To subordinate the State to commercial interests\nis as immoral as to make the economic interest supreme in the\nindividual.\n\nAs regards the relations between capital and labor, it argues an\nundeveloped state of society that we have no machinery for determining\ncontroversy as to what is a fair wage. In the long run, and on the\nwhole, supply and demand may give an approximately fair adjustment, but\nour present method of fighting it out in doubtful cases is barbaric. The\nissue is decided often by violence or the no less unmoral motive of\npressing want, instead of by the moral test of what is fair. And the\ngreat third interest, the consumer, or the public at large, is not\nrepresented at all. New Zealand, Canada, and some of the states in the\nUnited States have made beginnings. The President undoubtedly commanded\ngeneral support in his position during the coal strike, when he\nmaintained that the public was morally bound to take some part in the\nstruggle.\n\nMust not society be lacking in resources if its only resource is to\npermit exploitation, on the one hand, or carry on all industry and\nbusiness itself, upon the other? To lose the flexibility, variety, and\nkeenness of interest secured by individual or associated enterprise,\nwould certainly be an evil. Early business was conducted largely by\nkinship organizations. The pendulum has doubtless reached the other\nextreme in turning over to groups, organized on a purely commercial\nbasis, operations that could be more equitably managed by city or state\nagency. Most favor public agency in the case of schools. Railroads, gas\ncompanies, and other monopolies are still subject to controversy. But\nthat an ideally organized society should permit associations and\ngrouping of a great many kinds as agencies for carrying on its work\nseems a platform not to be abandoned until proved hopeless.\n\n=Collective Agency is Not Necessarily Social.=--The socialist is\ninclined to think that if the agency of production were the government\nor the whole organized society this would give a genuine social agency\nof control. This by no means follows. Party government and city\ngovernment in the United States have shown the fallacy of this. But even\napart from the possibility of a corrupt boss there is still a wide gap\nbetween the collective and the socialized agency. For until the members\nof society have reached a sufficiently high level of intelligence and\ncharacter to exercise voluntary control, and to cooperate wisely and\nefficiently, there must be some central directing agency. And such an\nagency will be morally external to a large number. It doesn't matter so\nmuch what name this agent is called by--i.e., whether he is\n\"capitalist,\" or \"government,\"--so long as the control is external. In\ngeneral, individuals are still without the mutual confidence and public\nintelligence which would enable them really to socialize the\nmechanically collective process.\n\n\nSec. 6. THEORIES OF JUST DISTRIBUTION\n\nSocialism as theory of distribution does not necessarily imply public\noperation of production. By graded taxation the proceeds of production\nmight be taken by society and either held, used, or distributed on some\nsupposedly more equitable basis. To give point to any inquiry as to the\njustice of a proposed distribution, it would be desirable to know what\nis the present distribution. Unfortunately, no figures are accepted by\nall students. Spahr's _Present Distribution of Wealth in the United\nStates_ estimates that seven-eighths of the families in the United\nStates own only one-eighth of the wealth, and that one per cent. own\nmore than the remaining ninety-nine per cent. This has been challenged,\nbut any estimate made by the economists shows such enormous\ndisproportion as to make it incredible that the present distribution can\nbe regarded as just on any definition of justice other than \"according\nto the principles of contract and competition.\" Suppose, then, the\nquestion is raised, How can we make a just distribution?\n\n=Criteria Proposed.=--The simplest, and at the same time most mechanical\nand abstract, method would be to divide all goods equally. This would be\nto ignore all moral and other differences, as indeed is practically done\nin the suffrage. If all men are accounted equal in the State, why not in\nwealth? It may be admitted that, if society were to distribute, it would\nhave to do it on some system which could be objectively administered. To\ndivide wealth according to merit, or according to efforts, or according\nto needs, would be a far more moral method. But it is difficult to see\nhow, in the case of material goods or their money equivalent, such a\ndivision could be made by any being not omniscient as well as absolutely\njust. If we are to consider distribution as administered by society, we\nseem reduced to the alternative of the present system or a system of\nequality.\n\n=1. The Individualistic Theory.=--It is indeed supposed by some that the\nindividualistic or competitive system distributes on a moral basis:\nviz., according to merit. This claim would have to meet the following\ncriticisms:\n\n(1) The first abstraction which this individualistic principle of\nreward usually makes it that it gives a man credit for all he achieves,\nor charges him with all his failures, without recognizing the threefold\norigin of these achievements or failures. Heredity, society, personal\nchoice, have each had some share in the result. But, in considering the\nethics of competition upon this maxim, there is evidently no attempt to\ndiscriminate between these several sources. The man born with industrial\ngenius, presented by society with the knowledge of all that has been\ndone in the past, and equipped by society with all the methods and tools\nsociety can devise, certainly has an advantage over the man of moderate\ntalents and no education. To claim that the first should be justly\nrewarded for his superiority would imply that the reception of one gift\nconstitutes a just claim for another.\n\n(2) Secondly, the theory as applied to our present system is guilty of a\nfurther abstraction in assuming that the chief, if not the only, way to\ndeserve reward is by individualistic shrewdness and energy.\n\n(3) It measures desert by service rendered without taking any account of\nmotive or even of intent. The captain of industry performs an important\nservice to society; therefore, it is argued, he should be rewarded\naccordingly, quite irrespective of the question whether he was aiming at\nsocial welfare or at selfish gain. It may even be plausibly argued that\nto reward men financially for good motives would be bribing men to be\nhonest. It is true that financial rewards will not make good citizens,\nbut this is irrelevant. The point is that whatever other\nreasons,--expediency, difficulty of estimating intent and motive,--may\nbe urged for abstracting from everything but the result, the one reason\nwhich cannot be urged is, such abstraction is just. A person has rights\nonly because he is a social person. But to call a man a social person\nbecause he incidentally produces useful results, is to say that purpose\nand will are negligible elements of personality.[243]\n\n=2. Equal Division.=--The system of equal division is liable to the\nfollowing criticism. In their economic services men are not equal. They\nare unequal not merely in talent and ability; not merely in the value of\ntheir work; they are unequal in their disposition. To treat idle and\nindustrious, useless and useful, slow and quick alike is not equality,\nbut inequality. It is to be guilty of as palpable an abstraction as to\nsay that all men are equally free because they are not subject to\nphysical constraint. Real equality will try to treat like conditions\nalike, and unlike character, efforts, or services differently.\n\nThere is, moreover, a psychological objection which would weigh against\nan equal division even if such were regarded as just. The average man\nperhaps prefers an economic order in which there are prizes and blanks\nto an order in which every man draws out the same. He prefers an\nexciting game to a sure but tame return of his investment. He may call\nfor a \"square deal,\" but we must remember that a \"square deal\" in the\ngreat American game from which the metaphor is taken is not designed to\nmake the game less one of chance. It is designed to give full scope to\nluck and nerve. A game in which every player was sure to win, but also\nsure to win just what he had put in, would be equitable, but it would\nnot be a game. An equal distribution might rob life of its excitement\nand its passion. Possibly the very strain of the process develops some\nelements of character which it would be unfortunate to lose.\n\nIs there no alternative possible for society except an equality which is\nexternal only, and therefore unequal, or an inequality which charges a\nman with all the accrued benefits or evils of his ancestry? Must we\neither recognize no moral differences in men, or else be more merciless\nthan the old orthodox doctrine of hereditary or imputed guilt? The\ntheological doctrine merely made a man suffer for his ancestors' sins;\nthe doctrine of unlimited individualism would damn him not only for his\nancestors' sins and defects, but for the injustice suffered by his\nancestors at the hands of others. The analysis of the sources of a man's\nability may give a clue to a third possibility, and it is along this\nline that the social conscience of to-day is feeling its way.\n\n=3. A Working Programme.=--A man's power is due (1) to physical\nheredity; (2) to social heredity, including care, education, and the\nstock of inventions, information, and institutions which enables him to\nbe more efficient than the savage; and finally (3) to his own efforts.\nIndividualism may properly claim this third factor. It is just to treat\nmen unequally so far as their efforts are unequal. It is socially\ndesirable to give as much incentive as possible to the full development\nof every one's powers. But the _very same reason demands that in the\nfirst two respects we treat men as equally as possible_. For it is for\nthe good of the social body to get the most out of its members, and it\ncan get the most out of them only by giving them the best start\npossible. In physical heredity the greater part is, as yet, wholly\noutside control, but there is an important factor which is in the sphere\nof moral action, namely, the physical condition of the parents,\nparticularly of the mother. Conditions of food, labor, and housing\nshould be such that every child may be physically well born. In the\nvarious elements included under social heredity society has a freer\nhand. Not a _free_ hand, for physical and mental incapacity limit the\namount of social accumulation which can be communicated, but we are only\nbeginning to appreciate how much of the deficiency formerly acquiesced\nin as hopeless may be prevented or remedied by proper food, hygiene, and\nmedical care. _Completely_ equal education, likewise, cannot be given;\nnot in kind, for not all children have like interests and society does\nnot want to train all for the same task; nor in quantity, for some will\nhave neither the ability nor the disposition to do the more advanced\nwork. But as, little by little, labor becomes in larger degree\nscientific, the ratio of opportunities for better trained men will\nincrease, and as education becomes less exclusively academic, and more\nan active preparation for all kinds of work, the interests of larger and\nlarger numbers of children will be awakened. Such a programme as this is\none of the meanings of the phrase \"_equal opportunity_,\" which voices\nthe demand widely felt for some larger conception of economic and social\njustice than now obtains. It would make formal freedom, formal\n\"equality\" before the law, less an empty mockery by giving to every\nchild some of the power and knowledge which are the necessary\nconditions of real freedom.\n\nSociety has already gone a long way along the line of giving an equal\nshare in education. It is moving rapidly toward broader conceptions of\neducation for all occupations--farming, mechanics, arts, trade,\nbusiness--as well as for the \"learned professions.\" It is making a\nbeginning toward giving children (see the Report of the New York\nTenement House Commission) a chance to be born and grow up with at least\na living minimum of light and air. Libraries and dispensaries and public\nhealth officials are bringing the science and literature of the world in\nincreasing measure into the lives of all. When by the better\norganization of the courts the poor man has real, and not merely formal\nequality before the law, and thereby justice itself is made more\naccessible to all, another long step will be taken toward a juster\norder. How far society can go is yet to be solved. But is it not at\nleast a working hypothesis for experiment, that society should try to\ngive to all its members the gains due to the social progress of the\npast? How far the maxim of equal opportunity will logically lead it is\nimpossible to say. Fortunately, the moral problem is to work out new\nideals, not merely to administer old ones. Other possibilities of larger\njustice are noticed under Sec. 8 below.\n\n\nSec. 7. OWNERSHIP AND USE OF PROPERTY\n\nThe public wealth may be controlled and used in four ways: It may be (1)\nPrivately owned and used; (2) Privately owned and publicly used; (3)\nPublicly held, but privately used; (4) Publicly held and commonly used.\nThe individualist would have all wealth, or as much as possible, under\none of the first two forms. The tendency in the United States until very\nrecently has been to divest the public of all ownership. The socialist,\nwhile favoring private ownership and use of the more strictly personal\narticles, favors the public holding of much which is now privately\nowned--notably the land, or the instruments of production--as versus the\nholding of these by private or corporate persons. Or, again, it may be\nmaintained that while individuals should be allowed to accumulate as\nmuch property as they can, they should not be allowed to transmit it\nentirely to their heirs.\n\n=Value of Private Property.=--The individualist may properly point to\nthe psychological and historical significance of private property, which\nhas been stated in a preceding chapter (p. 490). He may say that the\nevils there mentioned as attendant upon private property do not belong\nto the property in itself, but to the exaggerated love of it. He may\nadmit that the present emphasis of attention upon the ownership of\nwealth, rather than upon intellectual or aesthetic or social interests,\nis not the highest type of human endeavor. But he urges that the\npositive values of property are such that the present policy of placing\nno check upon property should be maintained. In addition to the indirect\nsocial value through the power and freedom given to its owners, it may\nbe claimed that the countless educational, charitable, and philanthropic\nagencies sustained by voluntary gifts from private property, are both\nthe best method of accomplishing certain socially valuable work, and\nhave an important reflex value in promoting the active social interest\nof those who carry them on. Nor is the force of this entirely broken by\nthe counter claim that this would justify keeping half the population in\npoverty in order to give the other half the satisfaction of charity. No\nsystem short of absolute communism can abolish the need of friendly\nhelp.\n\n=Defects and Dangers in the Present System.=--The first question which\narises is: If property is so valuable morally, how many are profiting by\nit under the present system, and how many are without its beneficent\neffects? Is the number of property-owners increasing or diminishing? In\none of the morally most valuable forms of property, the number of those\nwho profit is certainly decreasing relatively: _viz._, in the owning of\nhomes. The building of private residences has practically ceased in New\nYork and many other cities except for the very rich. With the increasing\nvalue of land the owning of homes is bound to become more and more rare.\nOnly the large capitalist can put up the apartment house. In the\nownership of shops and industries the number of owners has relatively\ndecreased, that of clerks has increased. The wage-workers in cities are\nlargely propertyless. The management of industries through corporations\nwhile theoretically affording opportunity for property has yet, as Judge\nGrosscup has pointed out forcibly, been such as to discourage the small\ninvestor, and to prompt to the consumption of wages as fast as received.\nThe objection to individualism on this ground would then be as before,\nthat it is not individual enough.\n\nAn objection of contrary character is that the possession of property\nreleases its owner from any necessity of active effort or service to the\npublic. It may therefore injure character on both its individual and its\nsocial side. Probably the absolute number of those who refrain from any\nsocial service because of their property is not very large, and it may\nbe questioned whether the particular persons would be socially very\nvaluable under any system if they are now oblivious to all the moral\narguments for such activity and service.\n\nA more serious objection to the individualistic policy is the enormous\npower allowed to the holders of great properties. It has been estimated\nthat a trust fund recently created for two grandchildren will exceed\nfive billion dollars when handed over. It is easily possible that some\nof the private fortunes now held may, if undisturbed, amount to far\nmore than the above within another generation. Moreover, the power of\nsuch a fortune is not limited to its own absolute purchasing value. By\nthe presence of its owners upon directorates of industrial,\ntransportation, banking, and insurance corporations the resources of\nmany other owners are controlled. A pressure may be exerted upon\npolitical affairs compared with which actual contributions to campaign\nfunds are of slight importance. The older theory in America was that the\ninjury to the private character of the owners of wealth would negative\nthe possible dangers to the public, since possession of large wealth\nwould lead to relaxation of energy, or even to dissipation. It was\nassumed that the father acquired the fortune, the son spent it, and thus\nscattered it among the many, and the grandson began again at the bottom\nof the ladder. Now that this theory is no longer tenable, society will\nbe obliged to ask how much power may safely be left to any individual.\n\nIt must be recognized that the present management of such natural\nresources as forests under the regime of private property has been\nextremely wasteful and threatens serious injury to the United States.\nIndividual owners cannot be expected to consider the welfare of the\ncountry at large, or of future generations; hence the water power is\nimpaired and the timber supply of the future threatened.\n\nFinally it must be remembered that many of the present evils and\ninequities in ownership are not due necessarily to a system of private\nproperty, but rather to special privileges possessed by classes of\nindividuals. These may be survivals of past conquests of arms as in\nEurope, or derived by special legislation, or due to a perfectly\nunconscious attitude of public morals which carries over to a new\nsituation the customs of an early day. Mill's famous indictment of\npresent conditions is not in all respects so applicable to America as to\nthe older countries of Europe, but it has too much truth to be omitted\nin any ethical consideration.\n\n    \"If the choice were to be made between communism with all its\n    chances, and the present state of society with all its sufferings\n    and injustices, if the institution of private property necessarily\n    carried with it, as a consequence, that the produce of labor\n    should be apportioned as we now see it, almost in an inverse ratio\n    to the labor,--the largest portions to those who have not worked\n    at all, the next largest to those whose work is almost nominal,\n    and so in descending scale, the remuneration dwindling as the work\n    grows harder and more disagreeable, until the most fatiguing and\n    exhausting bodily labor cannot count with certainty on being able\n    to earn even the necessaries of life,--if this, or communism, were\n    the alternative, all the difficulties, great or small, of\n    communism would be but as dust in the balance. But to make the\n    comparison applicable, we must compare communism at its best with\n    the regime of individual property, not as it is, but as it might\n    be made. The principle of private property has never yet had a\n    fair trial in any country.\" (_Polit. Econ._, Book II., ch. i.)\n\n\nSec. 8. PRESENT TENDENCIES\n\n=Individualistic Foundations.=--The general tendency up to very recent\ntime in the United States has been decidedly individualistic, both in\nthe policy concerning the method of holding property, and in the legal\nbalance between vested property rights and the social welfare. Public\nlands were granted on easy terms to homesteaders; mines as well as soil\nwere practically free to the prospector; school fund lands were in most\ncases sold for a song instead of being kept for the public. So general\nhas been the attitude that all wealth ought to be in private hands that\nit has been difficult to convict men who have fraudulently obtained vast\ntracts of public land. The magnitude of the operation has given\n\"respectability\" to the beneficiaries. The taxing power has done little\nto maintain adjustment. In this, as in many other respects, the policy\nof the United States has been far more individualistic than that of\nGreat Britain. The latter has graded income and inheritance taxes. In\nthe United States, on the other hand, the Federal taxation bears more\nheavily on the poor as they are the large body of consumers,--not, of\ncourse, in the sense that the individual poor man pays more than the\nindividual rich man, but in the sense that a million of dollars owned by\na thousand men pays more than a million owned by one man. Legally, the\nConstitution of the United States and certain of its amendments gave\nprivate rights extraordinary protection, especially when contracts were\nconstrued to mean charters, as well as private contracts. The public\nwelfare was conceived to reside almost solely in private rights.[244]\n\n=Increased Recognition of Public Welfare.=--Recent policy and legal\ndecisions show a decided change. Reserves of forest lands have been\nestablished. Water-supplies, parks, and many other kinds of property\nhave been changed from private to public ownership. The question as to\nmines has been raised. Graded inheritance taxes have been established in\nsome states, and the question of graded income taxes is likely to be\nmore generally considered unless some other form of taxation based on\nthe social values given to land, or franchises, or other forms of\nproperty seems more equitable. The Supreme Court in recent decisions\n\"has read into the constitution two sweeping exceptions to the\ninviolability of property rights.\"[245] One is that of public use.\n\"Whenever the owner of a property devotes it to a use in which the\npublic has an interest, he in effect grants to the public an interest in\nsuch use, and must to the extent of that use submit to be controlled by\nthe public for the common good so long as he maintains the use.\" The\nsecond exception is that of the police power which in 1906 (204 U. S.,\n311, 318) was declared to extend \"to so dealing with the conditions\nwhich exist in the state as to bring out of them the greatest welfare of\nits people.\" The application of this broad principle is still in an\nuncertain condition, but there can be no question that it recognizes a\nchanged situation. When people are living in such interdependence as in\nthe collective life of to-day, it is no longer possible to locate public\nwelfare in any such preponderating degree in private rights as was\njustified under the conditions of a new country a century ago. Says\nProfessor Smith:\n\n    \"On the fundamental question of the relation of public policy to\n    private property rights the [Supreme] Court has abandoned the\n    individualist views with which the founders of the constitution\n    were imbued; and in its doctrines of the public use and the police\n    power it has distinctly accepted what may be termed, in the\n    literal and proper sense of the word, the socialist view. In so\n    doing, it has unquestionably expressed the dominant opinion of the\n    American people. The American people does not accept the\n    collectivist theory; it believes in private property; but it\n    recognizes that rights of property must yield, in cases of\n    conflict, to the superior rights of society at large.\"\n\nIf some of the means set forth above for securing juster distribution\nwere adopted, the first step toward Mill's demand[246] would be met. If\nthe community should reap the return for its own growth, if taxation\nshould be so arranged as to fall most heavily on those best able to pay\nrather than on those who are most honest or least able to evade, it\nwould seem rational to hold that society will find a way to continue the\nfour forms of control now existing, making such shifts as changing\nconditions require.\n\nSome of these shiftings are already evident and give promise of greater\njustice without loss of any of the benefits accruing from private\nproperty.\n\n=Social Justice through Economic, Social, and Scientific Progress.=--Not\nall moral advance comes \"with observation,\" or by political agency. The\neconomic process is providing in certain lines a substitute for\nproperty. Science and invention, which are themselves a fine\nillustration of the balance and interaction between individual and\nsocial intelligence, individual effort and social cooperation, are\nmaking possible in many ways a state of society in which men have at\nonce greater freedom and greater power through association, greater\nindividual development and greater socialization of interests, less\nprivate property but greater private use and enjoyment of what is\ncommon.\n\nThe substitute for property provided by the economic process itself is\npermanence or security of support. If the person can count definitely\nupon a future, this is equivalent to the security of property. And\nthrough the organization of modern industry supplemented by insurance\nand pensions, either state, institutional, or in corporations, or in\nmutual benefit associations, there has been on the whole, a great\nincrease of security, although it is still unfortunately true that the\nwage-worker may in most cases be dismissed at any moment, and has\nvirtually no contract, or even any well-assured confidence of continued\nemployment.\n\nIt is a mutual cooperation of economic, social, and scientific factors\nwhich has brought about a great increase of individual use and enjoyment\nthrough public ownership. This _has placed many of the things which make\nlife worth living within the enjoyment of all_, and at the same time\ngiven a far better service to the users than the old method of private\nownership. _In this change lies, perhaps, the greatest advance of\njustice_ in the economic sphere, and a great promise for the future.\nThere was a time when if a man would sit down on a piece of ground and\nenjoy a fine landscape, he must own it. If he would have a plot where\nhis children might play, he must own it. If he would travel, he must\ncarry his own lantern, and furnish his own protection from thieves. If\nhe would have water, he must sink his own well. If he would send a\nletter, he must own or hire a messenger. If he would read a book, he\nmust not merely own the book, but own or hire the author or copyist. If\nhe would educate his children, he must own or hire the tutor. We have\nlearned that public parks, public lighting and water works, public\nlibraries, and public schools, are better than private provision.\n\nThe objection which comes from the individualist to this programme is\nthat it does too much for the individual. It is better, urges\nindividualism, to stimulate the individual's activity and leave his\nwants largely unsatisfied than to satisfy all his wants at the expense\nof his activity. But this assumes that what is done through public\nagencies is done for the people and not by the people. A democracy may\ndo for itself what an aristocracy may not do for a dependent class. The\ngreatest demoralization at the present time is not to those who have\nnot, but to those who appropriate gains due to associated activity,\ncomplacently supposing that they have themselves created all that they\nenjoy.\n\n=Another Great Advance is the Change in What Makes Up the Chief Values\nof Life.=--In early times the values of life were largely found in food,\nclothing, personal ornaments, bodily comfort, sex gratifications.\nEnjoyment of these involved exclusive possession and therefore property.\nBut with the advance of civilization an increasing proportion of life's\nvalues falls in the mental realm of sharable goods.\n\nSatisfaction in knowledge, in art, in association, in freedom, is not\ndiminished, but increased when it is shared. The educated man may have\nno more property than the illiterate. He has access to a whole system of\nsocial values. He has freedom; he has a more genuinely independent type\nof power than accrues from the mere possession of things. The society\nof the future will find a part of its justice in so adjusting its\neconomic system that all may enter as fully as possible into this more\nsocial world.\n\n=Methods of Social Selection.=--Finally, recognizing all the value of\nthe competitive process in the past as a method of selecting ability, it\nmust be regarded as crude and wasteful. It is like the method of blind\ntrial and error which obtains in the animal world. The method of ideas,\nof conscious use of means to secure ends, is the more effective and the\nmore rational. Society now is gaining the scientific equipment which may\nallow the substitution of the more effective and less wasteful method.\nIt should discover and educate capacity instead of giving merely a\nprecarious encouragement to certain special types.\n\n\nSec. 9. THREE SPECIAL PROBLEMS\n\nThree special problems may be noticed about which moral judgment is as\nyet uncertain: The open versus the closed shop, the capitalization of\ncorporations, and the \"unearned increment.\"\n\n=1. The Open versus the Closed Shop.=--In certain industries in which\nthe workmen are well organized they have made contracts with employers\nwhich provide that only union men shall be employed. Such a shop is\ncalled a closed shop, in distinction from an \"open shop\" in which\nnon-union men may be employed in part or altogether. The psychological\nmotive for the demand for the closed shop is natural enough: the union\nhas succeeded in gaining certain advantages in hours or wages or both;\nthis has required some expense and perhaps some risk. It is natural to\nfeel that those who get the advantage should share the expense and\neffort, and failing this, should not be admitted to the shop. If the\nargument stopped here it would be insufficient for a moral justification\nfor two reasons. First, joining a union involves much more than payment\nof dues. It means control by the union in ways which may interfere with\nobligations to family, or even to the social order. Hence, to exclude a\nfellow workman from the opportunity to work because he--perhaps for\nconscientious reasons--would not belong to the union, could not be\njustified unless the union could make it appear that it was maintaining\na social and not merely a group interest. Second, in some cases unions\nhave sought to limit output. In so far as this is done not for reasons\nof health but to raise prices, the union is opposing the interest of\nconsumers. Here again the union must exhibit a social justification if\nit is to gain social approval.\n\nOn the other hand it may be noted that the individualist of the second\nsort--who believes in the competitive struggle as a moral process--has\nno ground on which to declare for \"open shop.\" Exactly the same\nprinciple which would permit combination in capital and place no limit\non competitive pressure, provided it is all done through free contracts,\ncan raise no objection against combinations of laborers making the best\ncontracts possible. When a syndicate of capitalists has made a highly\nfavorable contract or successfully underwritten a large issue of stock,\nit is not customary under the principle of \"open shop\" to give a share\nin the contract to all who ask for it, or to let the whole public in \"on\nthe ground floor.\" Nor are capitalists accustomed to leave a part of the\nmarket to be supplied by some competitor for fear such competitor may\nsuffer if he does not have business. When the capitalist argues for the\nopen shop upon the ground of freedom and democracy, it seems like the\ncase of the mote and the beam.\n\nAn analogy with a political problem may aid: Has a nation the right to\nexclude (or tax heavily) goods or persons from other countries? May it\nmaintain a \"closed shop\"? The policy of the American colonists and of\nthe United States has varied. The Puritans maintained a \"closed shop\"\non religious lines. They came to this country to maintain a certain\nreligion and polity. They expelled several men who did not agree with\nthem. The United States excludes Chinese laborers, and imposes a tariff\nwhich in many cases is intended to be prohibitive against the products\nof other countries. This is done avowedly to protect the laborer, and in\nso far as it is effective it closes the shop. The maxim \"This is a white\nman's country\" is a similar \"closed shop\" utterance. On moral grounds\nthe non-union man is in the same category as the man of alien race or\ncountry. What, if anything, can justify a nation or smaller group from\nexcluding others from its benefits? Clearly the only conditions are (1)\nthat the group or nation is existing for some morally justifiable end,\nwhich (2) would be endangered by the admission of the outsiders. A\ncolony established to work out religious or political liberty would be\njustified in excluding a multitude who sought to enter it and then\nsubvert these principles. If a union is working for a morally valuable\nend, e.g., a certain standard of living which is morally desirable, and\nif this were threatened by the admission of non-union men, the closed\nshop would seem to be justified. If the purpose were merely to secure\ncertain advantages to a small group, and if the open shop would not\nlower the standard but merely extend its range of benefits, it is hard\nto see why the closed shop is not a selfish principle--though no more\nselfish than the grounds on which the tariff is usually advocated.\n\n=2. The Capitalization of Corporations=, especially of public service\ncorporations, is a matter on which there is a difference of policy in\ndifferent states, owing probably to uncertainty as to the morality of\nthe principles involved. The two theories held are: (a) Companies should\nissue capital stock only on the basis of money paid in; dividends then\nrepresent a return on actual investment. (b) Companies may issue\nwhatever stock they please, or whatever they expect their income will\nenable them to pay dividends upon; dividends will then represent return\nfor valuable privileges, or for some utility to be marketed. In behalf\nof this latter view it may be claimed that if the company pays dividends\nthe investors have nothing to complain of, and if it sells its products\nor transportation at market rates, the consumer has nothing to complain\nof.\n\nSo far as the relations between corporation and investor are concerned,\nthe issues are simple. If the stocks are issued with no expectation that\nthey will give any return, merely to \"sell,\" it is pure dishonesty, of\nthe same type which under cruder conditions sold spavined horses or made\ncounterfeit money, and now assumes the more vulgar type of dealing in\n\"green goods.\" The fact that fictitious capital can be publicly\nadvertised, gives it a financial but not a moral advantage. This,\nhowever, would have such decided limitations, credulous as human nature\nis, that if fictitious capital paid no dividends it would soon have no\nmarket. Hence, for the far-seeing promoter, the pressure is toward\nmaking some at least of the fictitious capital pay dividends. What is\nthe principle in this case? If we are dealing with a new and untried\nmode of production or public service, the case is simply that of any\nspeculation. If a proposed product has a possible utility, but at the\nsame time involves so much risk that in the long run only half of such\nenterprises will succeed, society may consider it worth offering a\nprofit equal to fifty per cent. in order to pay for the risk. If, on the\nother hand, the income is to derive from valuable public franchises, or\nfrom the growth of the community and its necessities, the case is\ndifferent. Here there is little, if any, risk for which it is fair for\nsociety to pay. The excessive capital beyond the cost is designed to\ndisguise the rate of profit, and therefore conceal from the community\nthe cost of the goods or service. If the public demands cheaper rates it\nis told that the company is now paying only a fair dividend upon its\nstock.[247] The usual method of capitalizing many enterprises of a\nquasi-public sort is to issue bonds to cover the cost of construction or\nplant, and then one or more series of stocks which are known as\n\"velvet.\" In part these stocks may represent a work of organization\nwhich is a legitimate public service, but in many cases they represent\ndevices for transferring public wealth to private property. Enormous\nsums have been taken from the public in this manner. The element which\nmakes this method particularly obnoxious is that the quasi-public\ncorporations are given a monopoly by the community and then take\nadvantage of this to capitalize indefinitely the necessities of a\ngrowing community. In this case the conception of public service is lost\nsight of in the \"dazzling possibility of public exploitation.\"[248]\n\nFew methods of extorting wealth have equaled this. In some cases bribery\nof public officials has added an item of expense to be collected later\nfrom the public. When the various forms of public service or protected\nindustry were first projected there was risk involved. It was necessary\nto offer inducements to capital to engage in them. It was desirable to\nhave railroads, gas, water, express service. But as the factor of risk\nhas been eliminated, the public tires of paying double prices, and a\n\"fair\" return must be estimated on the basis of actual rather than\nfictitious capital. The public has come to have a clear idea as to the\nmorality of such practices as have been employed in letting contracts\nfor public buildings at prices far above market value. The New York City\ncourthouse and Pennsylvania capitol offer familiar examples. Does it\ndiffer materially from such practices when a company charges the public\nan excessive price for transportation or lighting, and when State or\nmunicipal authorities authorize by franchise or monopoly such excessive\ncharges? Probably the conscience of the next century, if not of the next\ngeneration, will fail to see the superior moral quality of the latter\nprocedure.\n\n=3. The \"Unearned Increment.\"=--This term is applied most frequently to\nthe increase in land value or franchise value which is due, not to the\nowner, but to the growth of the community. A tract of land is bought at\na price fixed by its value as farm land. A city grows up. The owner of\nthe land may have been active in the building up of industry, but he may\nnot. An increase of values follows, which is due to the growth of the\ncommunity. Shall the owner have it all, or shall the community have it\nall, or shall there be a division? The growth in value of a franchise\nfor gas, electric lighting, transportation, presents the same problem.\nIt is not usually recognized, however, that the same principle is found\nin every increase of value due to increasing demand. The logical basis\nfor distinction would seem to be that in some cases increase of demand\ncalls out competition, and the price is lowered; the public thus\nreceives its share in lower cost. In other cases, notably those first\nmentioned, there can be no competition, the price is therefore not often\nlowered unless by legislative action, and the whole benefit goes to the\nowner of land or franchise. As regards land, the case is much stronger\nin Europe, for land titles were originally gained there largely by\nseizure, whereas in America private titles have been largely through\npurchase.\n\nIndividualism, according as it argues from the platform of natural\nrights or from that of social welfare, would claim either that\nindividuals should have all the increase because they have a right to\nall they can get under a system of free contracts, or that it is for the\nsocial welfare to allow them all they can get since private property is\npublic wealth. From the standpoint of natural rights the reply would\nseem to be unanswerable: the community gives the increased value; it\nbelongs to the community. From the standpoint of social welfare the\nanswer is not so simple. It might, for example, be socially desirable to\nencourage the owners of farming land by leaving to them the increase in\nvalue due to the growth of the country, whereas city land-owners might\nneed no such inducement. Investors in a new form of public service\ncorporation might need greater inducements than would be fair to those\nin enterprises well established. But, although details are complex, the\nsocial conscience is working toward this general principle: the\ncommunity should share in the values which it produces. If it cannot do\nthis by cheaper goods and better service, it must by graded taxation, by\nownership, or by some other means. The British government has already\nconsidered a measure for ascertaining the land values in Scotland as a\npreliminary step toward adjustment of this question.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[240] Boston has an ingenious method of dividing profits. The company\nwhich supplies gas must lower the price of gas in proportion as it\nincreases its rate of dividends.\n\n[241] February 24, 1908.\n\n[242] Spargo, _Socialism_, 220-27.\n\n[243] _Philosophical Review_, xiv., 370 f.\n\n[244] Cf. J. A. Smith, _The Spirit of American Government_, 1907.\n\n[245] I have followed in this paragraph the discussion of Professor\nMunroe Smith, _Van Norden's Magazine_, February, 1908. For a full\nhistory see E. Freund, _The Police Power_, 1905.\n\n[246] Above, p. 554.\n\n[247] As in the case of gas in New York City, where the court has\ndecided that the public cannot refuse to pay interest on the value of\nthe franchise--its own gift.\n\n[248] Cf. Hadley, _Economics_, p. 159.\n\n\n\n\nAPPENDIX TO CHAPTER XXV\n\nPROFESSOR SEAGER'S PROGRAMME OF SOCIAL LEGISLATION WITH SPECIAL\nREFERENCE TO WAGE-EARNERS\n\n\nIn the conviction that in the field of social legislation the United\nStates is behind the more progressive countries of Europe, Professor\nHenry R. Seager, of Columbia University, presented the following\n_Outline_ for discussion at a meeting of the American Association for\nLabor Legislation, December 30, 1907. It is reproduced with his consent\nas giving concrete expression to several of the principles advocated in\nthe foregoing chapters.\n\n    The ends to be aimed at in any programme of social legislation\n    are:\n\n    I. To protect wage-earners in the continued enjoyment of standards\n    of living to which they are already accustomed.\n\n    II. To assist them to attain to higher standards of living.\n\n\n    _I. Measures to protect prevailing standards of living._\n\n    The principal contingencies which threaten standards of living\n    already acquired are: (1) industrial accidents; (2) illness; (3)\n    invalidity and old age; (4) premature death; (5) unemployment.\n    These contingencies are not in practice adequately provided\n    against by wage-earners themselves. In consequence the losses they\n    entail, in the absence of any social provision against them, fall\n    with crushing force on the families which suffer from them, and\n    only too often reduce such families from a position of\n    independence and self-respect to one of humiliating and\n    efficiency-destroying social dependency. The following remedies\n    for the evils resulting from this situation are suggested.\n\n    (1) Employers' liability laws fail to provide adequate indemnity\n    to the victims of industrial accidents because in a large\n    proportion of cases no legal blame attaches to the employer and\n    because litigation under them is costly and uncertain in its\n    outcome. Adequate indemnification must be sought along the line of\n    workmen's compensation for all industrial accidents at the expense\n    of the employer (the British system) or of compulsory accident\n    insurance (the German system). The former seems to accord better\n    with American ideas and traditions.\n\n    (2) The principle of workmen's compensation may be extended to\n    include indemnity for loss of wages due to trade diseases.\n    Provision against illness not directly traceable to the employment\n    must be sought either in compulsory illness insurance or in\n    subsidized and state-directed sick-insurance clubs. Trade unions\n    may assume the functions of such clubs in organized trades. The\n    latter plan seems better suited to present American conditions\n    than compulsory illness insurance.\n\n    (3) Provision against invalidity and old age may be through\n    compulsory old age insurance, or through state old age pensions.\n    The latter, though more costly, are believed to be better suited\n    to American conditions, when hedged about by proper restrictions,\n    than compulsory old age insurance with the elaborate\n    administrative machinery which it entails.\n\n    (4) Premature death may be provided against by an extension of the\n    machinery for caring for the victims of industrial accident and of\n    illness to provide for their families when accident or illness\n    results fatally.\n\n    (5) Provision against losses due to unemployment is attended with\n    great difficulties because unemployment is so frequently the\n    consequence of incapacity or of disinclination for continuous\n    labor. The most promising plan for providing against this evil\n    appears to be through subsidizing and supervising trade unions\n    which pay out-of-work benefits to stimulate this side of their\n    activity. Public employment bureaus and industrial colonies for\n    the unemployed may also help to alleviate the evil of\n    unemployment.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n    Adequate social provision against these five contingencies along\n    the lines suggested, would, it is believed, go a long way towards\n    solving the problem of social dependency. If these concessions\n    were made to the demands of social justice, a more drastic policy\n    towards social dependents than public opinion will now sanction\n    might be inaugurated with good prospect of confining social\n    dependency to the physically, mentally, and morally defective.\n\n\n    _II. Measures to elevate standards of living._\n\n    The primary conditions essential to rising standards of living are\n    energy and enterprise on the part of wage-earners and\n    opportunities to make energy and enterprise count in the form of\n    higher earnings. The principal contributions which social\n    legislation may make to advancing standards of living in the\n    United States are believed to be: (1) measures serving to\n    encourage saving for future needs on the part of wage-earners by\n    providing safe investments for savings; (2) measures protecting\n    wage-earners from the debilitating effects of an unregulated\n    competition; (3) measures serving to bring within the reach of all\n    opportunities for industrial training. Standards of living will\n    also be advanced, of course, by nearly all measures calculated to\n    promote the general well-being, such as tax and tariff-reform\n    legislation, laws safeguarding the national domain, the public\n    regulation of corporations, especially those with monopolistic\n    powers, etc., but these are not usually classed under the head of\n    social legislation.\n\n    (1) The greatest present need under this head is for a postal\n    savings bank like those of European countries. The advantages of a\n    postal savings bank over privately managed banks are the wider\n    distribution of places of deposit, post-offices being located in\n    every section of the country, and the greater confidence\n    depositors would feel in such a bank. Once established the postal\n    savings bank might enter the insurance field, as has the British\n    postal savings bank, not as a rival of privately managed insurance\n    companies, but to bring to every wage-earner the opportunity to\n    secure safe insurance. Next to providing itself opportunities for\n    safe investment and insurance, the government has an important\n    duty to perform in supervising the business of privately managed\n    savings banks and insurance companies. Notwithstanding the\n    progress made in recent years in the United States in this field,\n    there is still something left for social legislation to\n    accomplish.\n\n    (2) If energy and enterprise are to be kept at a maximum,\n    wage-earners must be protected from exhausting toil under\n    unhealthful conditions. Skilled wage-earners can usually protect\n    themselves through trade unions, but unskilled workers, women and\n    children, require legal protection. Under this head belong,\n    therefore, the familiar types of protective labor laws. The\n    following may be specified:\n\n    (a) Laws prohibiting the employment of children below fourteen in\n    all gainful pursuits. Such laws should be uniform throughout the\n    United States and rigidly enforced by means of employment\n    certificates based on convincing evidence of age and physical\n    examination to determine fitness. As provision for free public\n    education is made more adequate to present needs the minimum age\n    may be advanced perhaps to sixteen.\n\n    (b) Laws limiting the hours of labor of young persons over\n    fourteen. Protection here should extend to eighteen, at least in\n    factory employments, and employment certificates should be\n    required of all under that age.\n\n    (c) Laws limiting the hours of labor of women. In the regulation\n    of women's work in the United States the principal needs are\n    uniformity and machinery for efficient enforcement. The last is\n    facilitated by the plan of specifying in the law the working\n    period for the protected classes, and American courts must be\n    brought to see the reasonableness (administratively) of such\n    prescriptions. The nine-hour day and prohibition of night work set\n    a high enough standard until greater uniformity and more efficient\n    enforcement shall have been secured.\n\n    (d) Prescriptions in regard to sanitation and safety appliances.\n    General prescriptions in regard to ventilation, etc., need to be\n    made more exact, and much more attention needs to be given to the\n    special regulation of dangerous trades, the existence of which has\n    been largely ignored thus far in American legislation.\n\n    (3) The chief reason for restricting the labor of children and\n    young persons is to permit the physical and mental development of\n    childhood and youth to proceed unhampered and to ripen into\n    strong, vigorous, and efficient manhood and womanhood. To attain\n    this end, it is necessary to provide not only for wholesome living\n    conditions and general free public education, but also for special\n    industrial training for older children superior to the training\n    afforded in modern factories and workshops. The apprenticeship\n    system now fails as a method of industrial training, even in those\n    few trades which retain the forms of apprenticeship. There is\n    urgent social need for comprehensive provision for industrial\n    training as a part of the public school system, not to take the\n    place of the training now given to children under fourteen, but to\n    hold those between fourteen and sixteen in school. As this need is\n    supplied the period of compulsory school attendance may gradually\n    be extended up to the sixteenth year. The guiding principle of\n    such industrial training should be that it is the function of\n    free public education in the United States not only to prepare\n    children to lead useful, well-rounded and happy lives, but to\n    command the earnings without which such lives are impossible.\n\n    The above programme of social legislation is urged as a step\n    towards realizing that canon of social justice which demands for\n    all equal industrial opportunities. It is believed that it will\n    also help to raise the standard of citizenship in the country by\n    making both wage-earners and employers more intelligent, more\n    efficient, and more truly democratic. Thus it will serve to\n    prepare the way for such further industrial reorganization as may\n    be found desirable.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI\n\nTHE FAMILY\n\n\nThe family in its moral aspects has one end, the common good of all its\nmembers, but this has three aspects. (1) Marriage converts an attachment\nbetween man and woman, either of passion or of friendship, into a\ndeliberate, intimate, permanent, responsible union for a common end of\nmutual good. It is this common end, a good of a higher, broader, fuller\nsort than either could attain in isolation, which lifts passion from the\nimpulsive or selfish to the moral plane; it is the peculiar intimacy and\nthe peculiar demands for common sympathy and co-operation, which give it\ngreater depth and reach than ordinary friendship. (2) The family is the\ngreat social agency for the care and training of the race. (3) This\nfunction reacts upon the character of the parents. Tenderness, sympathy,\nself-sacrifice, steadiness of purpose, responsibility, and activity, are\nall demanded and usually evoked by the children. A brief sketch of the\ndevelopment of the family and of its psychological basis, will prepare\nthe way for a consideration of its present problems.\n\n\nSec. 1. HISTORICAL ANTECEDENTS OF THE MODERN FAMILY\n\nThe division of the sexes appeals to the biologist as an agency for\nsecuring greater variability, and so greater possibility of adaptation\nand progress. It has also to the sociologist the value of giving greater\nvariety in function, and so a much richer society than could exist\nwithout it. Morally, the realization of these values, and the further\neffects upon character noted above, depend greatly upon the terms under\nwhich the marriage union is formed and maintained. The number of parties\nto the union, the mode of forming it, its stability, and the relations\nof husband and wife, parents and children, while in the family relation,\nhave shown in western civilization a tendency toward certain lines of\nprogress, although the movement has been irregular and has been\ninterrupted by certain halts or even reversions.\n\n=The Maternal Type.=--The early family, certainly in many parts of the\nworld, was formed when a man left his father and mother to \"cleave unto\nhis wife,\" that is, when the woman remained in her own group and the man\ncame from his group to live with her. This tended to give the woman\ncontinued protection--and also continued control--by her own relatives,\nand made the children belong to the mother's clan. As recent\nethnologists seem inclined to agree, this does not mean a matriarchal\nfamily. The woman's father and brothers, rather than the woman, are in\nthe last analysis the authority. At the same time, at a stage when\nphysical force is so large a factor, this type of family undoubtedly\nfavors the woman's condition as compared with the next to be mentioned.\n\n=The Paternal Type.=--When the woman leaves her own group to live in the\nhouse of her husband, it means a possible loss of backing and position\nfor her. But it means a great gain for the influence which insures the\nwife's fidelity, the father's authority over the children and interest\nin them, and finally the permanence of the family. The power of the\nhusband and father reached its extreme among western peoples in the\npatriarchate at Rome, which allowed him the right of life and death. At\nits best the patriarchal type of family fostered the dignity and power\nof a ruler and owner, the sense of honor which watched jealously over\nself and wife and children to keep the name unsullied; finally the\nrespective attitudes of protector and protected enhanced the charm of\neach for the other. At its worst it meant domineering brutality, and\neither the weakness of abject submission or the misery of hopeless\ninjustice.\n\nAlong with this building up of \"father right\" came variations in the\nmode of gaining a wife. When the man takes a wife instead of going to\nhis wife, he may either capture her, or purchase her, or serve for her.\nIn any of these cases she may become to a certain extent his property as\nwell as his wife. This does not necessarily imply a feeling of\nhumiliation. The Kafir women profess great contempt for a system in\nwhich a woman is not worth buying. But it evidently favors a commercial\ntheory of the whole relation. The bride's consent may sometimes be a\nnecessary part of the transaction, but it is not always.\n\n=Effects of Father Right.=--This family of \"father right\" is also likely\nto encourage a theory that the man should have greater freedom in\nmarriage than the woman. In the lowest types of civilization we often\nfind the marital relations very loose from our point of view, although,\nas was noted in Chapter II., these peoples usually make up for this in\nthe rigidity of the rules as to who may marry or have marriage\nrelations. With some advance in civilization and with the father right,\nwe are very apt to find polygamy permitted to chiefs or those who can\nafford it, even though the average man may have but one wife. In certain\ncases the wives may be an economic advantage rather than a burden. It\ngoes along with a family in which father and children are of first\nimportance that a wife may even be glad to have her servant bear the\nchildren if they may only be reckoned as hers. The husband has thus\ngreater freedom--for polyandry seems to have been rare among civilized\npeoples except under stress of poverty. The greater freedom of the\nhusband is likely to appear also in the matter of divorce. Among many\nsavage peoples divorce is easy for both parties if there is mutual\nconsent, but with the families in which father right prevails it is\nalmost always easier for the man. The ancient Hebrew might divorce his\nwife for any cause he pleased, but there is no mention of a similar\nright on her part, and it doubtless did not occur to the lawgiver. The\ncode of Hammurabi allows the man to put away the mother of his children\nby giving her and her children suitable maintenance, or a childless wife\nby returning the bride price, but a wife who has acted foolishly or\nextravagantly may be divorced without compensation or kept as a slave.\nThe woman may also claim a divorce \"if she has been economical and has\nno vice and her husband has gone out and greatly belittled her.\" But if\nshe fails to prove her claim and appears to be a gadder-about, \"they\nshall throw that woman into the water.\" India and China have the\npatriarchal family, and the Brahmans added the obligation of the widow\nnever to remarry. Greater freedom of divorce on the part of the husband\nis also attended by a very different standard for marital faithfulness.\nFor the unfaithful husband there is frequently no penalty or a slight\none; for the wife it is frequently death.\n\n=The Roman Family.=--The modern family in western civilization is the\nproduct of three main forces: the Roman law, the Teutonic custom, and\nthe Christian Church. Early Roman law had recognized the extreme power\nof the husband and father. Wife and children were in his \"hand.\" All\nwomen must be in the _tutela_ of some man. The woman, according to the\nthree early forms of marriage, passed completely from the power and hand\nof her father into that of her husband. At the same time she was the\nonly wife, and divorce was rare. But by the closing years of the\nRepublic a new method of marriage, permitting the woman to remain in the\n_manus_ of her father, had come into vogue, and with it an easy theory\nof divorce. Satirists have charged great degeneracy in morals as a\nresult, but Hobhouse thinks that upon the whole the Roman matron would\nseem to have retained the position of her husband's companion,\ncounselor, and friend, which she had held in those more austere times\nwhen marriage brought her legally under his dominion.[249]\n\n=The Germanic Family.=--The Germanic peoples recognized an almost\nunlimited power of the husband. The passion for liberty, which Caesar\nremarked as prevalent among them, did not seem to require any large\nmeasure of freedom for their women. In fact, they, like other peoples,\nmight be said to have satisfied the two principles of freedom and\ncontrol by allotting all the freedom to the men and all, or nearly all,\nthe control to the women. Hobhouse thus summarizes the conditions:\n\n    \"The power of the husband was strongly developed; he might expose\n    the infant children, chastise his wife, dispose of her person. He\n    could not put her to death, but if she was unfaithful, he was,\n    with the consent of the relations, judge and executioner. The wife\n    was acquired by purchase from her own relatives without reference\n    to her own desires, and by purchase passed out of her family. She\n    did not inherit in early times at all, though at a later period\n    she acquired that right in the absence of male heirs. She was in\n    perpetual ward, subject, in short, to the Chinese rule of the\n    three obediences, to which must be added, as feudal powers\n    developed, the rule of the king or other feudal superior. And the\n    guardianship or _mundium_ was frankly regarded in early law rather\n    as a source of profit to the guardian than as a means of defense\n    to the ward, and for this reason it fetched a price in the market,\n    and was, in fact, salable far down in the Middle Ages. Lastly, the\n    German wife, though respected, had not the certainty enjoyed by\n    the early Roman Matron of reigning alone in the household. It is\n    true that polygamy was rare in the early German tribes, but this,\n    as we have seen, is universally the case where the numbers of the\n    sexes are equal. Polygamy was allowed, and was practiced by the\n    chiefs.\"\n\n=Two Lines of Church Influence.=--The influence of the church on\nmarriage and family life was in two conflicting lines. On the one hand,\nthe homage and adoration given to Mary and to the saints, tended to\nexalt and refine the conception of woman. Marriage was, moreover,\ntreated as a \"sacrament,\" a holy mystery, symbolic of the relation of\nChrist and the church. The priestly benediction gave religious\nsacredness from the beginning; gradually a marriage liturgy sprang up\nwhich added to the solemnity of the event, and finally the whole\nceremony was made an ecclesiastical instead of a secular function.[250]\nThe whole institution was undoubtedly raised to a more serious and\nsignificant position. But, on the other hand, an ascetic stream of\ninfluence had pursued a similar course, deepening and widening as it\nflowed. Although from the beginning those \"forbidding to marry\" had been\ndenounced, it had nearly always been held that the celibate life was a\nhigher privilege. If marriage was a sacrament, it was nevertheless held\nthat marriage made a man unfit to perform the sacraments. Woman was\nregarded as the cause of the original sin. Marriage was from this\nstandpoint a concession to human weakness. \"The generality of men and\nwomen must marry or they will do worse; therefore, marriage must be made\neasy; but the very pure hold aloof from it as from a defilement. The law\nthat springs from this source is not pleasant to read.\"[251] It must,\nhowever, be noted that, although celibacy by a selective process tended\nto remove continually the finer, more aspiring men and women, and\nprevent them from leaving any descendants, it had one important value\nfor woman. The convent was at once a refuge, and a door to activity.\n\"The career open to the inmates of convents was greater than any other\never thrown open to women in the course of modern European\nhistory.\"[252]\n\nTwo important contributions to the justice of the marriage relation, and\ntherefore to the better theory of the family, are in any case to be set\ndown to the credit of the church. The first was that the consent of the\nparties was the only thing necessary to constitute a valid marriage.\n\"Here the church had not only to combat old tradition and the authority\nof the parents, but also the seignorial power of the feudal lord, and it\nmust be accounted to it for righteousness that it emancipated the woman\nof the servile as well as of the free classes in relation to the most\nimportant event of her life.\"[253] The other was that in maintaining as\nit did the indissolubility of the sacramental marriage, it held that its\nviolation was as bad for the husband as for the wife. The older theories\nhad looked at infidelity either as an injury to the husband's property,\nor as introducing uncertainty as to the parenthood of children, and this\nsurvives in Dr. Johnson's dictum of a \"boundless\" difference. The\nfeelings of the wife, or even of the husband, aside from his concern for\nhis property and children, do not seem to have been considered.\n\nThe church thus modified the Germanic and Roman traditions, but never\nentirely abolished them, because she was divided within herself as to\nthe real place of family life. Protestantism, in its revolt from Rome,\nopposed both its theories of marriage. On the one hand, the Reformers\nheld that marriage is not a sacrament, but a civil contract, admitting\nof divorce. On the other hand, they regarded marriage as the most\ndesirable state, and abolished the celibacy of the clergy. The\n\"subjection of women,\" especially of married women, has, however,\nremained as the legal theory until very recently. In England it was the\ntheory in Blackstone's time that \"The very being or legal existence of\nthe woman is suspended during the marriage, or at least is incorporated\nand consolidated into that of the husband, under whose wing, protection,\nand cover, she performs everything.\" According to the old law, he might\ngive her \"moderate correction.\" \"But with us in the politer reign of\nCharles II., this power of correction began to be doubted.\" It was not\nuntil 1882, however, that a married woman in England gained control of\nher property. In the United States the old injustice of the common law\nhas been gradually remedied by statutes until substantial equality in\nrelation to property and children has been secured.\n\n\nSec. 2. THE PSYCHOLOGICAL BASIS OF THE FAMILY\n\nThe psychology of family life may be conveniently considered under two\nheads: that of the husband and wife, and that of parents and children,\nbrothers and sisters.\n\n1. The complex sentiment, love, which is found in the most perfect\nfamily life, is on the one hand (1) a feeling or emotion; on the other\n(2) a purpose, a will. Both these are modified and strengthened by (3)\nparenthood and (4) social and religious influences.\n\n=(1) The Emotional and Instinctive Basis.=--As feeling or emotion love\nmay have two roots. A mental sympathy, based on kindred tastes and\ninterests, is sometimes present at the outset, but in any case it is\nlikely to develop under the favoring conditions of a common life,\nparticularly if there are either children or a common work. But it is\nwell known that this is not all. A friend is one thing; a lover another.\nThe intimacy involved requires not only the more easily described and\nsuperficial attraction of mind for mind; it demands also a deeper\ncongeniality of the whole person, incapable of precise formulation,\nmanifesting itself in the subtler emotional attitudes of instinctive\nreaction. This instinctive, as contrasted with the more reflective,\nattraction is frequently described as one of opposites or contrasting\ndispositions and physical characteristics. But this is nothing that\nenters into the feeling as a conscious factor. The only explanation\nwhich we can give in the present condition of science is the biological\none. From the biological point of view it was a most successful venture\nwhen Nature, by some happy variation, developed two sexes with slightly\ndifferent characters and made their union necessary to the continuance\nof life in certain species. By uniting in every new individual the\nqualities of two parents, the chances of variation are greatly\nincreased, and variation is the method of progress. To keep the same\nvariety of fruit the horticulturist buds or grafts; to get new varieties\nhe plants seed. The extraordinary progress combined with continuity of\ntype, which has been exhibited in the plant and animal world, has been\neffected, in part at least, through the agency of sex. This long process\nhas developed certain principles of selection which are instinctive.\nWhether they are the best possible or not, they represent a certain\nadjustment which has secured such progress as has been attained, and\nsuch adaptation to environment as exists, and it would be unwise, if it\nwere not impossible, to disregard them. Marriages of convenience are\ncertainly questionable from the biological standpoint.\n\nBut the instinctive basis is not in and of itself sufficient to\nguarantee a happy family life. If man were living wholly a life of\ninstinct, he might trust instinct as a guide in establishing his family.\nBut since he is living an intellectual and social life as well,\nintellectual and social factors must enter. The instinctive basis of\nselection was fixed by conditions which contemplated only a more or\nless limited period of attachment, with care of the young for a few\nyears. Modern society requires the husband and wife to contemplate\nlife-long companionship, and a care for children which implies capacity\nin the father to provide for a great range of advantages, and in the\nmother to be intellectual and moral guide and friend until maturity. To\ntrust the security of these increased demands to instinct is to invite\nfailure. Instinct must be guided by reason if perfect friendship and\nmutual supplementation in the whole range of interests are to be added\nto the intenser, but less certain, attraction.\n\n=(2) The Common Will.=--But whether based on instinct or intellectual\nsympathy, no feeling or emotion by itself is an adequate moral basis for\nthe life together of a man and a woman. What was said on p. 249, as to\nthe moral worthlessness of any _mere_ feeling abstracted from will,\napplies here. Love or affection, in the only sense in which it makes a\nmoral basis of the family, is not the \"affection\" of psychological\nlanguage--the pleasant or unpleasant tone of consciousness; it is the\nresolute purpose in each to seek the other's good, or rather to seek a\n_common_ good which can be attained only through a common life involving\nmutual self-sacrifice. It is the good will of Kant specifically directed\ntoward creating a common good. It is the formation of a small \"kingdom\nof ends\" in which each treats the other \"as end,\" never as means only;\nin which each is \"both sovereign and subject\"; in which the common will,\nthus created, enhances the person of each and gives it higher moral\ndignity and worth. And, as in the case of all purpose which has moral\nvalue, there is such a common good as the actual result. The disposition\nand character of both husband and wife are developed and supplemented.\nThe male is biologically the more variable and motor. He has usually\ngreater initiative and strength. Economic and industrial life\naccentuates these tendencies. But alone he is apt to become rough or\nhard, to lack the feeling in which the charm and value of life are\nexperienced. On the other hand, the woman, partly by instinct, it may\nbe, but certainly by vocation, is largely occupied with the variety of\ncares on which human health, comfort, and morality depend. She tends to\nbecome narrow, unless supplemented by man. The value of emotion and\nfeeling in relation to this process of mutual aid and enlargement, as in\ngeneral, is, as Aristotle pointed out, to perfect the will. It gives\nwarmth and vitality to what would otherwise be in any case partial and\nmight easily become insincere. There was a profound truth which underlay\nthe old psychology in which \"the heart\" meant at once character and\npassion.\n\n=(3) The Influence of Parenthood.=--Nature takes one step at a time. If\nall the possible consequences of family life had to be definitely\nforecasted, valued, and chosen at the outset, many would shrink. But\nthis would be because there is as yet no capacity to appreciate new\nvalues before the actual experience of them. \"Every promise of the soul\nhas innumerable fulfillments; each of its joys ripens into a new want.\"\nParental affection is not usually present until there are real children\nto evoke it. At the outset the mutual love of husband and wife is\nenough. But as the first, more instinctive and emotional factors lose\nrelatively, the deeper union of will and sympathy needs community of\ninterest if it is to become permanent and complete. Such community of\ninterest is often found in sharing a business or a profession, but under\npresent industrial organization this is not possible as a general rule.\nThe most general and effective object of common interest is the children\nof the family. As pointed out by John Fiske, the mere keeping of the\nparents together by the prolongation of infancy in the human species has\nhad great moral influence. Present civilization does not merely demand\nthat the parents cooperate eight or ten years for the child's physical\nsupport. There has been a second epoch in the prolongation. The parents\nnow must cooperate until the children are through school and college,\nand in business or homes of their own. And the superiority of children\nover the other common interests is that in a different form the parents\nrepeat the process which first took them out of their individual lives\nto unite for mutual helpfulness. If the parents treat the children not\nmerely as sources of gratification or pride, but as persons, with lives\nof their own to live, with capacities to develop, the personality of the\nparent is enlarged. The affection between husband and wife is enriched\nby the new relationship it has created.\n\n=(4) Social and Religious Factors.=--The relations of husband and wife,\nparent and child, are the most intimate of personal relations, but they\nare none the less relations of social interest. In fact, just because\nthey are so intimate, society is the more deeply concerned. Or, to put\nit from the individual's standpoint, just because the parties are\nundertaking a profoundly personal step, they must take it as members of\na moral order. The act of establishing the family signifies, indeed, the\nentrance into fuller participation in the social life; it is the\nassuming of ties which make the parties in a new and deeper sense\norganic parts of humanity. This social and cosmic meaning is\nappropriately symbolized by the civil and religious ceremony. In its\ncontrol over the marriage contract, and in its prescriptions as to the\ncare and education of the children, society continues to show its\ninterest. All this lends added value and strength to the emotional and\nintellectual bases.\n\n=2. Parent and Child.=--The other relationships in the family, those of\nparents and children, brothers and sisters, need no elaborate analysis.\nThe love of parents for children, like that of man and woman, has an\ninstinctive basis. Those species which have cared for their offspring\nhave had a great advantage in the struggle for existence. Nature has\nselected them, and is constantly dropping the strains of any race or set\nwhich cares more for power, or wealth, or learning than for children.\nTenderness, courage, responsibility, activity, patience, forethought,\npersonal virtue--these are constantly evoked not by the needs of\nchildren in general, but by the needs of our own children. The\ninstinctive response, however, is soon broadened in outlook and deepened\nin meaning. Intellectual activity is stimulated by the needs of\nproviding for the physical welfare, and, still more, by the necessity of\nplanning for the unfolding mind. The interchange of question and answer\nwhich forces the parent to think his whole world anew, and which with\nthe allied interchange of imitation and suggestion produces a give and\ntake between all members of the family, is constantly making for\nfluidity and flexibility, for tolerance and catholicity. In the\nthoughtful parent these educative influences are still further enriched\nby the problem of moral training. For in each family, as in the race,\nthe need of eliciting and directing right conduct in the young is one of\nthe most important agencies in bringing home to the elders the\nsignificance of custom and authority, of right and wrong. It is natural\nenough, from one standpoint, to think of childhood as an imperfect\nstate, looking forward for its completeness and getting its value\nbecause of its rich promise. But the biologist tells us that the child\nis nearer the line of progress than the more developed, but also more\nrigidly set, man. And the lover of children is confident that if any age\nof humanity exists by its own right, and \"pays as it goes,\" it is\nchildhood. It is not only meet, but a joy, that the fathers labor for\nthe children. Many, if not most, of the objects for which men and women\nstrive and drudge seem less satisfactory when obtained; because we have\nmeanwhile outgrown the desire. Children afford an object of affection\nwhich is constantly unfolding new powers, and opening new reaches of\npersonality.[254] Conversely, an authority which is also tender,\npatient, sympathetic, is the best medium to develop in the child\nself-control. The necessity of mutual forbearance where there are\nseveral children, of sharing fairly, of learning to give and take, is\nthe best possible method of training for membership in the larger\nsociety. In fact, from the point of view of the social organism as a\nwhole, the family has two functions; as a smaller group, it affords an\nopportunity for eliciting the qualities of affection and character which\ncannot be displayed at all in the larger group; and, in the second\nplace, it is a training for future members of the larger group in those\nqualities of disposition and character which are essential to\ncitizenship.[255]\n\n\nSec. 3. GENERAL ELEMENTS OF STRAIN IN FAMILY RELATIONS\n\n=Difference in Temperament.=--While there are intrinsic qualities of men\nand women that bring them together for family life, and, while there is\nin most cases a strong reenforcement afforded by the presence of\nchildren, there are certain characteristics which tend just as\ninevitably to produce tension, and those forces of tension are\nstrengthened at the present time by certain economic, educational, and\ncultural conditions. The differences between men and women may be at the\nbasis of their instinctive attraction for each other; they certainly\nhave possibilities of friction as well. A fundamental difference\nalready noted is that the male is more variable, the female more true to\nthe type. Biologically at least, the _varium et mutabile_ is applied by\nthe poet to the wrong sex. Applied to the mind and disposition, this\nmeans probably not only a greater variation of capacity and temper as a\nwhole,--more geniuses and also more at the other extreme than among\nwomen,--but also a greater average mobility.\n\n=Differences Accentuated by Occupation.=--From the early occupations of\nhunting and fishing, to the modern greater range of occupations, any\nnative mobility in man has found stimulation and scope, as compared with\nthe energies of women which have less distinct differentiation and a\nmore limited contact with the work of others. And there is another\nindustrial difference closely connected with this, which has been\npointed out by Ellis,[256] and Thomas.[257] Primitive man hunted and\nfought. Much of primitive industry, the prototype, so far as it existed,\nof the industrial activity of the modern world, was carried on by woman.\nIndustrial progress has been signalized by the splitting off of one\nphase of woman's work after another, and by the organization and\nexpansion of this at the hands of man. Man's work has thus become more\nspecialized and scientific; woman's has remained more detailed, complex,\nand diffused. Her work in the family of ordering the household, caring\nfor the children, securing the health and comfort of all its members,\nnecessarily involves personal adjustment; hence it resists system. As a\nresult of the differentiation man has gained in greater and greater\ndegree a scientific and objective standard for his work; woman neither\nhas nor can have--at least in the sphere of personal relations--the\nadvantage of a standard. Business has its ratings in the quantity of\nsales or the ratio of net profits. The professions and skilled trades\nhave their own tests of achievement. A scientist makes his discovery, a\nlawyer wins his case, an architect builds his bridge, the mechanic his\nmachine; he knows whether he has done a good piece of work, and respects\nhimself accordingly. He can appeal from the man next to him to the\njudgment of his profession. Conversely, the standard of the trade or\nprofession helps to lift the individual's work. It is a constant\nstimulus, as well as support. A woman's work in the family has no such\nprofessional stimulus, or professional vindication. If the family is\nlenient, the work is not held up to a high level. On the other hand, it\nmust make its appeal to the persons immediately concerned, and if they\ndo not respond, the woman feels that she has failed to do something\nreally worth while. If her work is not valued, she feels that it is not\nvaluable. For there is no demonstrative proof of a successful home any\nmore than there is of a good work of art. It is easy enough to point out\nreasons why the picture or the home should please and satisfy, but if\nthe work itself is not convincing, no demonstration that similar works\nhave satisfied is of any avail.\n\nThe way in which men and women come into contact with others is another\nelement in the case. Man comes into contact with others for the most\npart in an abstract way. He deals not with men, women, and children, but\nwith employers or employed, with customers or clients, or patients. He\ndoesn't have to stand them in all their varied phases, or enter into\nthose intimate relations which involve strain of adjustment in its\nfullest extent. Moreover, business or professional manner and etiquette\ncome in to relieve the necessity of personal effort. The \"professional\nmanner\" serves the same function in dealing with others, which habit\nplays in the individual life; it takes the place of continual\nreadjustment of attention. When a man is forced to lay this aside and\ndeal in any serious situation as \"a human being,\" he feels a far greater\nstrain. The woman's task is less in extension, but great in intension.\nIt obliges her to deal with the children, at any rate, as wholes, and a\n\"whole\" child is a good deal of a strain. If she does not see the whole\nof the husband, it is quite likely that the part not brought home--the\nprofessional or business part of him--is the most alert, intelligent,\nand interesting phase. The constant close-at-hand personal relations,\nunrelieved by the abstract impersonal attitude and the generalizing\nactivity which it invites, constitute an element of strain which few men\nunderstand, and which probably few could endure and possess their souls.\nThe present division of labor seems, therefore, to make the man\nexcessively abstract, the woman excessively personal, instead of\nsupplementing to some extent the weak side of each.\n\n=Difference in Attitude toward the Family.=--As if these differences in\nattitude based on disposition and occupation were not enough, we have a\nthoroughgoing difference in the attitude of men and women toward the\nvery institution which invites them. The man is ready enough to assent\nto the importance of the family for the race, but his family means not\nan interference with other ambitions, but usually an aid to their\nfulfillment. His family is one interest among several, and is very\nlikely subordinate in his thought to his profession or his business. In\nearly ages to rove or conquer, in modern life to master nature and\ncontrol her resources or his fellowmen--this has been the insistent\ninstinct which urges even the long-tossed Ulysses from Ithaca and from\nPenelope again upon the deep. Woman, on the other hand, if she enters a\nfamily, usually abandons any other ambition and forgets any acquired art\nor skill of her previous occupation. To be the mistress of a home may be\nprecisely what she would choose as a vocation. But there is usually no\nalternative if she is to have a home at all. It is not a question of a\nfamily in addition to a vocation, but of a family _as_ a vocation. Hence\nwoman must regard family life not merely as a good; it must be _the_\ngood, and usually the exclusive good.\n\nIf, then, a woman has accepted the family as the supreme good, it is\nnaturally hard to be in perfect sympathy with the man's standard of\nfamily life as secondary. Of course a completer vision may find that a\ndivision of labor, a difference of function, may carry with it a\ndifference in standards of value; the mastery of nature and the\nmaintenance of the family may be neither an absolute good in itself, but\neach a necessity to life and progress. But neither man nor woman is\nalways equal to this view, and to the full sympathy for the relative\nvalue of the other's standpoint. Where it cuts closest is in the\nattitude toward breach of faith in the family tie. Men have severe codes\nfor the man who cheats at cards or forges a signature, but treat much\nmore leniently, or entirely ignore, the gravest offenses against the\nfamily. These latter do not seem to form a barrier to political,\nbusiness, or social success (among men). Women have a severe standard\nfor family sanctity, especially for their own sex. But it would probably\nbe difficult to convince most women that it is a more heinous offense to\nsecrete a card, or even with Nora in _The Doll's House_, to forge a\nname, than to be unfaithful. It is not meant that the average man or\nwoman approves either form of wrongdoing, but that there is a difference\nof emphasis evidenced in the public attitude. In view of all these\ndifferences in nature, occupation, and social standard it may be said\nthat however well husband and wife may love each other, few understand\neach other completely. Perhaps most men do not understand women at all.\nCorresponding to the \"psychologist's fallacy,\" whose evils have been\ndepicted by James, there is a \"masculine fallacy\" and a \"feminine\nfallacy.\"\n\n=Difference in Age.=--The difference in age between parents and children\nbrings certain inevitable hindrances to complete understanding. The most\nthoroughgoing is that parent and children really stand concretely for\nthe two factors of continuity and individual variation which confront\neach other in so many forms. The parent has found his place in the\nsocial system, and is both steadied and to some extent made rigid by the\nsocial tradition. The child, though to some extent imitating and\nadopting this tradition, has as yet little reasoned adherence to it. The\nimpulses and expanding life do not find full expression in the set ways\nalready open, and occasionally break out new channels. The conservatism\nof the parent may be a wiser and more social, or merely a more hardened\nand narrow, mode of conduct; some of the child's variations may be\nirrational and pernicious to himself and society; others may promise a\nlarger reasonableness, a more generous social order--but meanwhile\ncertain features of the conflict between reason and impulse, order and\nchange, are constantly appearing. Differences in valuation are also\ninevitable and can be bridged only by an intelligent sympathy. It is\neasy to consider this or that to be of slight importance to the child\nwhen it is really his whole world for the time. Even if he does \"get\nover it,\" the effect on the disposition may remain, and affect the\ntemper or emotional life, even though not consciously remembered.\nProbably, also, most parents do not realize how early a crude but\nsometimes even passionate sense for \"fairness\" develops, or how\ndifferent the relative setting of an act appears if judged from the\nmotives actually operative with the child, and not from those which\nmight produce such an act in a \"grown-up.\" Most parents and children\nlove each other; few reach a complete understanding.\n\n\nSec. 4. SPECIAL CONDITIONS WHICH GIVE RISE TO PRESENT PROBLEMS\n\nIn addition to the more general conditions of family life, there are\ncertain conditions at present operative which give rise to special\nproblems, or rather emphasize certain aspects of the permanent problems.\nThe family is quite analogous to political society. There needs to be\nconstant readjustment between order and progress, between the control of\nthe society and the freedom of the individual. The earlier bonds of\ncustom or force have to be exchanged in point after point for a more\nvoluntary and moral order. In the words of Kant, heteronomy must\nsteadily give place to autonomy, subordination of rank or status to\ndivision of labor with equality in dignity. The elements of strain in\nthe family life at present may fairly be expected to give rise\nultimately to a better constitution of its relations. The special\nconditions are partly economic, partly educational and political, but\nthe general process is a part of the larger growth of modern\ncivilization with the increasing development of individuality and desire\nfor freedom. It is sometimes treated as if it affected only the woman or\nthe children; in reality it affects the man as well, though in less\ndegree, as his was not the subordinate position.\n\n=The Economic Factors.=--The \"industrial revolution\" transferred\nproduction from home to factory. The household is no longer as a rule an\nindustrial unit. Spinning, weaving, tailoring, shoemaking, soap-making,\niron- and wood-working, and other trades have gone to factories. Men,\nyoung unmarried women, and to some extent married women also, have gone\nwith them. Children have lost association with one parent, and in some\ncases with both. The concentration of industry and business leads to\ncities. Under present means of transportation this means apartments\ninstead of houses, it means less freedom, more strain, for both mother\nand children, and possible deteriorating effects upon the race which as\nyet are quite outside any calculation. But leaving this uncertain field\nof effects upon child life, we notice certain potent effects upon men\nand women.\n\nIt might be a difficult question to decide the exact gains and losses\nfor family life due to the absence of the man from home during the day.\nOn the one hand, too constant association is a source of friction; on\nthe other, there is likely to result some loss of sympathy, and where\nthe working-day is long, an almost absolute loss of contact with\nchildren. If children are the great natural agencies for cultivating\ntenderness and affection, it is certainly unfortunate that fathers\nshould be deprived of this education. The effect of the industrial\nrevolution upon women has been widely noted. First of all, the opening\nof an increasing number of occupations to women has rendered them\neconomically more independent. They are not forced to the alternative of\nmarriage or dependence upon relatives. If already married, even although\nthey may have lost touch to some extent with their former occupation,\nthey do not feel the same compulsion to endure intolerable conditions in\nthe home rather than again attempt self-support. An incidental effect of\nthe entrance of women upon organized occupations, with definite hours\nand impersonal standards, is to bring out more strongly by contrast the\n\"belated\" condition of domestic work. It is difficult to obtain skilled\nworkers for an occupation requiring nearly double the standard number of\nhours, isolation instead of companionship during work, close personal\ncontact with an employer, a measure of control over conduct outside of\nthe hours on duty, and finally the social inferiority implied by an\noccupation which has in it survivals of the status of the old-time\nservant. Indeed, the mistress of the house, if she \"does her own work,\"\ndoesn't altogether like her situation. There is now no one general\noccupation which all men are expected to master irrespective of native\ntastes and abilities. If every male were obliged to make not only his\nown clothing, including head- and foot-wear, but that of his whole\nfamily, unassisted, or with practically unskilled labor, there would\nprobably be as much misfit clothing as there is now unsatisfactory\nhome-making, and possibly there would be an increase of irritability and\n\"nervousness\" on the one side and of criticism or desertion on the\nother, which would increase the present strain upon the divorce courts.\nTo an increasing number of women, the position of being\n\"jack-at-all-trades and master-of-none\" is irritating. The conviction\nthat there is a great waste of effort without satisfactory results is\nmore wearing than the actual doing of the work.\n\nFor the minority of women who do not \"keep house,\" or who can be\nrelieved entirely of domestic work by experts, the industrial revolution\nhas a different series of possibilities. If there is a decided talent\nwhich has received adequate cultivation, there may be an opportunity for\nits exercise without serious interference with family life, but the\nchances are against it. If the woman cannot leave her home for the\nentire day, or if her husband regards a gainful occupation on her part\nas a reflection upon his ability to \"support the family,\" she is\npractically shut out from any occupation. If she has children and has an\nintelligent as well as an emotional interest in their welfare, there is\nan unlimited field for scientific development. But if she has no regular\nuseful occupation, she is not leading a normal life. Her husband very\nlikely cannot understand why she should not, in the words of Veblen,\nperform \"vicarious leisure\" for him, and be satisfied therewith. If she\nis satisfied, so much the worse. Whether she is satisfied or not, she is\ncertainly not likely to grow mentally or morally in such an existence,\nand the family life will not be helped by stagnation or frivolity.\n\nIn certain classes of society there is one economic feature which is\nprobably responsible for many petty annoyances and in some cases for\nreal degradation of spirit. When the family was an industrial unit, when\nexchange was largely in barter, it was natural to think of the woman as\na joint agent in production. When the production moved to factories and\nthe wage or the wealth was paid to the man and could be kept in his\npocket or his check-book, it became easy for him to think of himself as\n\"supporting\" the family, to permit himself to be \"asked\" for money for\nhousehold expenses or even for the wife's personal expenses, and to\nconsider money used in these ways as \"gifts\" to his wife or children.\nWomen have more or less resistingly acquiesced in this humiliating\nconception, which is fatal to a real moral relation as well as to\nhappiness. It is as absurd a conception as it would be to consider the\nreceiving teller in a bank as supporting the bank, or the manager of a\nfactory as supporting all the workmen. The end of the family is not\neconomic profit, but mutual aid, and the continuance and progress of the\nrace. A division of labor does not give superiority and inferiority.\nWhen one considers which party incurs the greater risks, and which works\nwith greater singleness and sincerity for the family, it must pass as\none of the extraordinary superstitions that the theory of economic\ndependence should have gained vogue.\n\n=Cultural and Political Factors.=--Educational, cultural, and political\nmovements reenforce the growing sense of individuality. Educational and\ncultural advance strengthens the demand that woman's life shall have as\nserious a purpose as man's, and that in carrying on her work, whether in\nthe family or without, she may have some share in the grasp of mind, the\ndiscipline of character, and the freedom of spirit which come from the\nscientific spirit, and from the intelligent, efficient organization of\nwork by scientific methods. Political democracy draws increasing\nattention to personal dignity, irrespective of rank or wealth.\nIncreasing legal rights have been granted to women until in most points\nthey are now equal before the law, although the important exception of\nsuffrage still remains for the most part. Under these conditions it is\nincreasingly difficult to maintain a family union on any other basis\nthan that of equal freedom, equal responsibilities, equal dignity and\nauthority. It will probably be found that most of the tension now\nespecially felt in family life--aside from those cases of maladaptation\nliable to occur under any system--results either from lack of\nrecognition of this equality, or from the more general economic\nconditions which society as a whole, rather than any particular family,\nmust meet and change.\n\n\nSec. 5. UNSETTLED PROBLEMS: (1) ECONOMIC\n\nThe family as an economic unit includes the relation of its members to\nsociety both as producers and as consumers.\n\n=The Family and Production.=--We have noted the industrial changes which\nhave seemed to draw the issue sharply between the home and outside\noccupations. We have seen that the present organization of industry,\nbusiness, and the professions has separated most of the occupations from\nthe family, so that woman must choose between family and a specific\noccupation, but cannot ordinarily combine the two. We have said that in\nrequiring all its women to do the same thing the family seems to exclude\nthem from individual pursuits adapted to their talents, and to exclude\nthem likewise from the whole scientific and technical proficiency of\nmodern life. Is this an inevitable dilemma? Those who think it is divide\ninto two parties, which accept respectively the opposite horns. The one\nparty infers that the social division of labor must be: man to carry on\nall occupations outside the family, woman to work always within the\nfamily. The other party infers that the family life must give way to the\nindustrial tendency.\n\n(1) The \"domestic theory,\" or as Mrs. Bosanquet styles it, the\n\"pseudo-domestic\" theory, is held sincerely by many earnest friends of\nthe family in both sexes. They feel strongly the fundamental necessity\nof family life. They believe further that they are not seeking to\nsubordinate woman to the necessities of the race, but rather to give her\na unique position of dignity and affection. In outside occupations she\nmust usually be at a disadvantage in competition with men, because of\nher physical constitution which Nature has specialized for a different\nfunction. In the family she \"reigns supreme.\" With most women life is\nnot satisfied, experience is not full, complete consciousness of sex and\nindividuality is not attained, until they have dared to enter upon the\nfull family relations. Let these be preserved not merely for the race,\nbut especially for woman's own sake. Further, it is urged, when woman\nenters competitive occupations outside the home, she lowers the scale of\nwages. This makes it harder for men to support families, and therefore\nmore reluctant to establish them. Riehl urges that not only should\nmarried women remain at home; unmarried women should play the part of\n\"aunt\" in some one's household--he says _alte Tante_, but it is not\nnecessary to load the theory too heavily with the adjective.\n\n(2) The other horn of the dilemma is accepted by many writers,\nespecially among socialists. These writers assume that the family\nnecessarily involves not only an exclusively domestic life for all\nwomen, but also their economic dependence. They believe this dependence\nto be not merely a survival of barbarism, but an actual immorality in\nits exchange of sex attraction for economic support. Hence they would\nabandon the family or greatly modify it. It must no longer be\n\"coercive\"; it will be coercive under present conditions.\n\n=Fallacies in the Dilemma.=--Each of these positions involves a fallacy\nwhich releases us from the necessity of choosing between them. The root\nof the fallacy in each case is the conception that the economic status\ndetermines the moral end, whereas the moral end ought to determine the\neconomic status.\n\nThe fallacy of the pseudo-domestic theory lies in supposing that the\nhome must continue its old economic form or be destroyed. What is\nessential to the family is that man and wife, parents and children,\nshould live in such close and intimate relation that they may be\nmutually helpful. But it is not essential that present methods of house\nconstruction, domestic service, and the whole industrial side of home\nlife be maintained immutable. There is one fundamental division of labor\nbetween men and women. The woman who takes marriage at its full scope\naccepts this. \"The lines which it follows are drawn not so much by the\nwoman's inability to work for her family in the outside world--she\nconstantly does so when the death or illness of her husband throws the\ndouble burden upon her; but from the obvious fact that the man is\nincapable of the more domestic duties incident upon the rearing of\nchildren.\"[258] But this does not involve the total life of a woman, nor\ndoes it imply that to be a good wife and mother every woman must under\nall possible advances of industry continue to be cook, seamstress,\nhousemaid, and the rest. True it is that if a woman steps out of her\nprofession or trade for five, ten, twenty years, it is in many cases\ndifficult to reenter. But there are some occupations where total absence\nis not necessary. There are others where her added experience ought to\nbe an asset instead of a handicap. A mother who has been well trained\nought to be a far more effective teacher in her wholesome and\nintelligent influence. She ought to be a more efficient manager or\nworker in the great variety of civic and social enterprises of both paid\nand unpaid character. There is no doubt that the present educational and\nsocial order is suffering because deprived of the competent service\nwhich many married women might render, just as women in their turn are\nsuffering for want of congenial occupation, suited to their capacities\nand individual tastes. A growing freedom in economic pursuit would\nimprove the home, not injure it. For nothing that interferes with normal\ndevelopment is likely to prove beneficial to the family's highest\ninterest.\n\nThe fallacy of those who would abolish the family to emancipate woman\nfrom economic dependence is in supposing that because the woman is not\nengaged in a gainful occupation she is therefore being supported by the\nman for his own pleasure. This is to adopt the absurd assumptions of the\nvery condition they denounce. This theory at most, applies to a marriage\nwhich is conceived from an entirely selfish and commercial point of\nview. If a man marries for his own pleasure and is willing to pay a cash\nprice; if a woman marries for cash or support and is willing to pay the\nprice, there is no doubt as to the proper term for such a transaction.\nThe result is not a family in the moral sense, and no ceremonies or\nlegal forms can make it moral. A family in the moral sense exists for a\ncommon good, not for selfish use of others. To secure this common good\neach member contributes a part. If both husband and wife carry on\ngainful occupations, well; if one is occupied outside the home and the\nother within, well also. If there are children, the woman is likely to\nhave the far more difficult and wearing half of the common labor. Which\nplan is followed, i.e., whether the woman works outside or within the\nhome, ought to depend on which plan is better on the whole for all\nconcerned, and this will depend largely on the woman's own ability and\ntastes, and upon the number and age of the children. But the economic\nrelation is not the essential thing. The essential thing is that the\neconomic be held entirely subordinate to the moral conception, before\nmarriage and after.\n\n=The Family as Consumer.=--The relation of the family as consumer to\nsociety and to the economic process at large involves also an important\nmoral problem. For while production has been taken from the home, the\nselective influence of the family over production through its direction\nof consumption has proportionally increased. And in this field the woman\nof the family is and should be the controlling factor. As yet only the\ninternal aspects have been considered. Most women regard it as their\nduty to buy economically, to secure healthful food, and make their funds\ngo as far as possible. But the moral responsibility does not stop here.\nThe consumer may have an influence in helping to secure better\nconditions of production, such as sanitary workshops, reasonable hours,\ndecent wages, by a \"white label.\" But this is chiefly valuable in\nforming public opinion to demand workrooms free from disease and legal\nabolition of sweatshops and child labor. The greater field for the\nconsumers' control is in determining the kind of goods that shall be\nproduced. What foods shall be produced, what books written, what plays\npresented, what clothing made, what houses and what furnishing shall be\nprovided--all this may be largely determined by the consumers. And the\nvalue of simplicity, utility, and genuineness, is not limited to the\neffects upon the family which consumes. The workman who makes fraudulent\ngoods can hardly help being injured. The economic waste involved in the\nproduction of what satisfies no permanent or real want is a serious\nindictment of our present civilization. It was said, under the subject\nof the economic process, that it was an ethically desirable end to have\nincrease of goods, and of the kind wanted. We may now add a third end:\nit is important that society should learn to want the kinds of goods\nwhich give happiness and not merely crude gratification. Men often need\nmost what they want least. Not only the happiness of life but its\nprogress, its unfolding of new capacities and interests, is determined\nlargely by the direction of the consumption. Woman is here the\ninfluential factor.\n\nIf there were no other reason for the better and wider education of\nwoman than the desirability of more intelligent consumption, society\nwould have ample ground to demand it.\n\n\nSec. 6. UNSETTLED PROBLEMS: (2) POLITICAL\n\nThe family may be regarded as a political unit, first in its implication\nof some control of the members by the common end, and in the second\nplace in its relation to the authority of the State.\n\n=1. Authority within the Family.=--If the political character of the\nfamily were kept clearly in mind, the internal relations of the members\nof the family would be on a far more moral basis and there would be less\nreason for friction or personal clashes. If there is a group of persons\nwhich is to act as a unity, there must be some leadership and control.\nIn many cases there will be a common conviction as to the fittest person\nto lead or direct, but where the group is a permanent one with frequent\noccasions for divergent interests, unity has been maintained either by\nforce or by some agency regarded by the people as embodying their common\nwill. In the earliest forms of society this, as we have seen, was not\nclearly distinguished from personal and individual command. But as the\nconception of the political worked free from that of the personal agent,\nit could be recognized more and more that the ruler was not the man--not\nHenry or William,--but the King or the Parliament, as representing the\nnation. Then government became a more consciously moral act. Obedience\nwas not humiliating, because the members were sovereign as well as\nsubject. It was not heteronomy but autonomy. In the family the personal\nrelation is so close that this easily overshadows the fact that there is\nalso a family relation of a political sort. The man in the patriarchal\nfamily, and since, has exercised, or has had the legal right to exercise\nauthority. And with the legal theory of inequality to support him it is\nnot strange that he should often have conceived that obedience was due\nto him as a person, and not to him as, in certain cases, best\nrepresenting the joint purpose of the family, just as in other cases the\nwoman best represents this same purpose.\n\n=Equality or Inequality.=--But even when there had been recognition of a\nmore than personal attitude the question would at once arise, are the\nmembers of a family to be considered as of equal or unequal importance?\nThe answer until recently has been unequivocal. In spite of such\napparent exceptions as chivalry, and the court paid to beauty or wit, or\nthe honor accorded to individual wives and mothers, woman has seldom\nbeen taken seriously in the laws and institutions of society.\nOpportunities for education and full participation in the thought and\nlife of civilization are very recent. Public school education for girls\nis scarcely a century old. College education for women, in a general\nsense, is of the present generation. But the conviction has steadily\ngained that democracy cannot treat half the race as inferior in dignity,\nor exclude it from the comradeship of life. Under primitive society a\nman was primarily a member of a group or caste, and only secondarily a\nperson. A woman has been in this situation as regards her sex. She is\nnow asserting a claim to be considered primarily as a person, rather\nthan as a woman. This general movement, like the economic movement, has\nseemed to affect the attitude of unmarried women, and to a less degree,\nof men, toward marriage, and to involve an instability of the family\ntie. The question is then this: does the family necessarily involve\ninequality, or can it be maintained on a basis of equality? Or to put\nthe same thing from another angle: if the family and the modern movement\ntoward equality are at variance, which ought to give way?\n\nThe \"pseudo-domestic\" theory on this point is suggested by its general\nposition on the economic relations of the family as already stated. It\nbelieves that the family must be maintained as a distinct sphere of\nlife, coordinate in importance for social welfare with the intellectual,\nartistic, and economic spheres. It holds, further, that the family can\nbe maintained in this position only if it be kept as a unique\ncontrolling influence in woman's life, isolated from other spheres. This\nof course involves an exclusion of woman from a portion of the\nintellectual and political life, and therefore an inferiority of\ndevelopment, even if there is not an inferiority of capacity. Some of\nthis school have maintained that in America the rapid advance in\neducation and intelligence among women has rendered them so superior to\nthe average man who has to leave school for business at an early age\nthat they are unwilling to marry. A German alliterative definition of\nwoman's \"sphere\" has been found in \"the four K's\"--Kirche, Kinder,\nKueche, und Kleider.\n\nIf the permanence of the family rests on the maintenance of a relation\nof inferiority, it is indeed in a perilous state. All the social and\npolitical forces are making toward equality, and from the moral\nstandpoint it is impossible successfully to deny Mill's classic\nstatement, \"The only school of genuine moral sentiment is society\nbetween equals.\" But some of the advocates of equality have accepted the\nsame fallacious separation between the family and modern culture. They\nhave assumed that the family life must continue to be unscientific in\nits methods, and meager in its interests. Some women--like some\nmen--undoubtedly place a higher value on book learning, musical and\ndramatic entertainment, and other by-products of modern civilization\nthan on the elemental human sympathies and powers which these should\nserve to enrich. It is too easily granted that the opportunity and duty\nof woman as wife and mother are limited to a purely unscientific\nprovision for physical wants to the exclusion of scientific methods,\nintellectual comradeship, and effective grappling with moral problems.\n\n=Isolation Not the Solution.=--The solution for the present unrest is\ntherefore to be found not in forcing the separation between the family\non the one hand and the intellectual, political, and other aspects of\ncivilization on the other, but in a mutual permeation. They think very\nlightly of the elemental strength of sex and parental instincts who\nsuppose that these are to be overslaughed in any great portion of the\nrace by cultural interests. And it is to ignore the history of political\nprogress to suppose that organic relations founded on equality and\ndemocracy are less stable than those resting on superiority and\nsubordination. The fact is that there is no part of life so much in need\nof all that modern science can give, and no field for intellectual\npenetration and technological organization so great as the family.\nCorrelative with its control over economic processes through its\nposition as consumer, is its influence over social, educational, and\npolitical life, through its relation to the children who are constantly\nrenewing the structure. To fulfill the possibilities and even the duties\nof family life under modern conditions requires both scientific training\nand civic activity. Provisions for health and instruction and proper\nsocial life in school, provisions for parks and good municipal\nhousekeeping, for public health and public morals,--these demand the\nintelligent interest of the parent and have in most cases their natural\nmotive in the family necessities. A theory of the family which would\nlimit the parent, especially the mother, to \"the home\" needs first to\ndefine the limits of \"the home.\" To measure its responsibilities by the\nlimit of the street door is as absurd as to suppose that the sphere of\njustice is limited by the walls of the courtroom. A broader education\nfor women is certainly justified by precisely this larger meaning of the\ncare of children and of the family interests. The things of greatest\nimportance to human life have scarcely been touched as yet by science.\nWe know more about astrophysics than about health and disease; more\nabout waste in steam power than about waste in foods, or in education;\nmore about classical archaeology than about the actual causes of poverty,\nalcoholism, prostitution, and childlessness, the chief enemies of home\nlife. In the light of the actual possibilities and needs of family life\ntwo positions seem equally absurd: the one that family life can be\npreserved best by isolating it, and particularly its women, from\nculture; the other, that it does not afford an opportunity for a full\nlife. Neither of these errors can be corrected apart from the other. It\nis in the mutual permeation and interaction of the respective spheres of\nfamily and cultural life, not in their isolation, that the family is to\nbe strengthened. Here, as in the economic field, no one family can\nsucceed entirely by itself. The problem is largely a social one. But\nevery family which is free and yet united, which shows comradeship as\nwell as mutual devotion, is forcing the issue and preparing the way for\nthe more perfect family of the future.\n\n=2. Authority over the Family: Divorce.=--The strains which have been\nnoticed in the foregoing paragraphs have centered public attention on\nthe outward symptoms of unrest and maladaptation. Current discussions of\nfamily problems are likely to turn largely upon the increase of divorce.\nFor the reasons which have been given there has doubtless been\nincreasing tendency to seek divorce, and this may continue until more\nstable conditions are reached. Now that the authority of the church is\nless implicitly accepted, individuals are thrown back upon their own\nvoluntary controls, and whether marriages are arranged by parents as in\nFrance, or formed almost solely on the initiative and unguided will of\nthe parties as in America, the result is much the same. Two classes of\npersons seek divorce. Those of individualistic temperament, who have\nformed the marriage for selfish ends or in frivolous moments, are likely\nto find its constraints irksome when the expected happiness fails to be\nrealized and the charm of novelty is past. This is simply one type of\nimmoral conduct which may be somewhat checked by public opinion or legal\nrestraint, but can be overcome only by a more serious and social\nattitude toward all life. The other class finds in the bond itself,\nunder certain conditions, a seemingly fatal obstacle to the very purpose\nwhich it was designed to promote: unfaithfulness, cruelty, habitual\nintoxication, and other less coarse, but equally effective modes of\nbehavior may be destructive of the common life and morally injurious to\nthe children. Or alienation of spirit may leave external companionship\nempty of moral unity and value, if not positively opposed to\nself-respect. This class is evidently actuated by sincere motives. How\nfar society may be justified in permitting dissolution of the family\nunder these conditions, and how far it may properly insist on some\npersonal sacrifice for the sake of larger social ends is simply another\nform of the problem which we considered in the economic field--the\nantithesis between individual rights and public welfare. The solution in\neach case cannot be reached by any external rule. It will be found only\nin the gradual socializing of the individual on the one hand, and in the\ncorrelative development of society to the point where it respects all\nits members and makes greater freedom possible for them on the other.\nMeanwhile it must not be overlooked that the very conception of\npermanence in the union, upheld by the state, is itself effective toward\nthoughtful and well-considered action after as well as before marriage.\nSome causes of friction may be removed, some tendencies to alienation\nmay be suppressed, if the situation is resolutely faced from the\nstandpoint of a larger social interest rather than from that of\nmomentary or private concern.\n\n=General Law of Social Health.=--Divorce is a symptom rather than a\ndisease. The main reliance in cases of family pathology, as for the\ndiseases of the industrial and economic system, is along the lines which\nmodern science is pursuing in the field of medicine. It is isolating\ncertain specific organisms which invade the system under favorable\ncircumstances and disturb its equilibrium. But it finds that the best,\nand in fact the only ultimate protection against disease is in the\ngeneral \"resisting power\" of the living process. This power may be\ntemporarily aided by stimulation or surgery, but the ultimate source of\nits renewal is found in the steady rebuilding of new structures to\nreplace the old stagnation; the retention of broken-down tissues means\nweakness and danger. The social organism does not escape this law.\nScience will succeed in pointing out the specific causes for many of the\nmoral evils from which we suffer. Poverty, crime, social injustice,\nbreaking down of the family, political corruption, are not all to be\naccepted simply as \"evils\" or \"wickedness\" in general. In many cases\ntheir amount may be greatly reduced when we understand their specific\ncauses and apply a specific remedy. But the great reliance is upon the\nprimal forces which have brought mankind so far along the line of\nadvance. The constant remaking of values in the search for the genuinely\nsatisfying, the constant forming, criticizing, and reshaping of ideals,\nthe reverence for a larger law of life and a more than individual moral\norder, the outgoing of sympathy and love, the demand for justice--all\nthese are the forces which have built our present social system, and\nthese must continually reshape it into more adequate expressions of\ngenuine moral life if it is to continue unimpaired or in greater vigor.\n\nWe do not know in any full sense whence the life of the spirit comes,\nand we cannot, while standing upon the platform of ethics, predict its\nfuture. But if our study has shown anything, it is that the moral _is_ a\nlife, not a something ready made and complete once for all. It is\ninstinct with movement and struggle, and it is precisely the new and\nserious situations which call out new vigor and lift it to higher\nlevels. Ethical science tracing this process of growth, has as its aim\nnot to create life--for the life is present already,--but to discover\nits laws and principles. And this should aid in making its further\nadvance stronger, freer, and more assured because more intelligent.\n\n\nLITERATURE\n\nOn the early history of the Family, see the works cited at close of ch.\nii.; also Starcke, _The Primitive Family_, 1889; Westermarck, _The\nHistory of Human Marriage_, 1901; Howard, _A History of Matrimonial\nInstitutions_, 3 vols., 1904. On present problems: H. Bosanquet, _The\nFamily_, 1906; Parsons, _The Family_, 1906; Bryce, _Marriage and Divorce\nin Roman and in English Law_, in Studies in History and Jurisprudence,\n1901; Ellis, _Man and Woman_; Thomas, _Sex and Society_, 1906; Bebel,\n_Woman and Socialism_; Riehl, _Die Familie_.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[249] _Morals in Evolution_, Part I., p. 216.\n\n[250] Howard, _History of Matrimonial Institutions_, I., ch. vii.\n\n[251] Pollock and Maitland, _Hist. Eng. Law_, II., 383, quoted in\nHoward, I., 325-26.\n\n[252] Eckstein, _Woman under Monasticism_, p. 478.\n\n[253] Hobhouse, _op. cit._, I., 218.\n\n[254] Helen Bosanquet, _The Family_, p. 313: \"'They must hinder your\nwork very much,' I said to a mother busy about the kitchen, with a\ntwo-year-old clinging to her skirt. 'I'd never get through my work\nwithout them,' was the instant rejoinder, and in it lay the answer to\nmuch of our sentimental commiseration of hard-worked mothers. It may\nbe hard to carry on the drudgery of daily life with the little ones\nclamoring around; it is ten times harder without, for sheer lack of\nsomething to make it worth while.\"\n\n[255] Bosanquet, Part II., ch. x.\n\n[256] _Man and Woman._\n\n[257] _Sex and Society._\n\n[258] Helen Bosanquet, _The Family_, p. 272.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nINDEX\n\n\n  Abelard, 150 f.\n\n  Achan, 18, 29, 60, 104\n\n  Addams, Jane, 144\n\n  Aeschylus, 112, 116, 139\n\n  Aesthetic, in Greek valuation of conduct, 91, 112, 116 f., 133 f.,\n         135 n., 137, 406, 410\n\n  Agency, public, see Public Agency;\n    rationalizing, 40-2;\n    socializing, 42-8\n\n  Altruism, discussion of theories concerning, 384-91;\n    altruistic springs, 385;\n    true and false, 387-8;\n    contrasted with social justice, 389\n\n  Amos, 85\n\n  Approbation, 399, 402\n\n  Angell, 9\n\n  Aquinas, Thomas, 150\n\n  Aristophanes, 112\n\n  Aristotle, on the criterion of a moral act, 12, 37, 202;\n    on nature and the natural, 7, 127 f.;\n    on the State, 127 ff.;\n    Eudaemonism, 134;\n    the \"mean,\" 134;\n    on \"highmindedness,\" 135;\n    on the reflective life, 138;\n    on the good man, 279, 324;\n    on the right, 306 n.;\n    on justice, 414;\n    referred to, 230, 455\n\n  Arnold, M., 91, 338\n\n  Art and arts, as a rationalizing agency, 41 f.;\n    as a socializing agency, 45 f.;\n    create new interests, 79 f.;\n    Hebrew, 107;\n    Greek, 112, 114 f.;\n    mediaeval, 147, 149;\n    Church and modern, 155;\n    as a good that is sharable, 559\n\n  Asceticism, 145, 185, 366, 576\n\n  Attitude, defined, 229;\n    emphasized by one type of theory, 236-7, 240;\n    relation to will, 246;\n    see Motive and \"How\"\n\n  Augustine, 150\n\n  Aurelius, Marcus, 136\n\n  Authority, of group, 26 f.;\n    behind customs, 52;\n    in Israel's religion, 96 f.;\n    of custom challenged in Greece, 111 ff., 119 ff.;\n    of the church, 145-7;\n    conflict of reason with, 165 f.;\n    of duty, 344;\n    in the family, 599 f.;\n    see Duty, Control, Standard\n\n  Autonomy, as essence of moral duty, 225;\n    Kant's conception of, 169, 346, 352;\n    in later utilitarianism, 361;\n    in State and the family, 599 f.;\n    see Control, Duty, Law, State\n\n  Australian customs, marriage, 22;\n    initiatory, 58 f.;\n    regulated duel, 63\n\n\n  Bacon, Francis, 4, 164, 165\n\n  Bacon, Roger, 164\n\n  Bagehot, 53\n\n  Bain, on happiness, 265;\n    on utilitarianism, 286;\n    his account of duty, 356-8\n\n  Balzac, 189\n\n  Bayard, Chevalier, 149\n\n  Benevolence, 160 f., 375-91\n\n  Bentham, on motive, 228, 247-8, 354;\n    on moral science, 235;\n    on disposition, 254-5;\n    on pleasure and happiness, 264, 286;\n    on utilitarian calculus, 275-6;\n    denial of quality of pleasure, 282;\n    on pleasure of sympathy, 291;\n    democratic individualism of, 525\n\n  Blackstone, 578\n\n  Blood feud, 28, 62 f., 70, 456\n\n  Boniface VIII., Bull of, 147\n\n  Bosanquet, Helen, 584, 595 f.\n\n  Bryce, James, 146\n\n\n  Caesar, 18\n\n  Capital and labor, 499, 501 f., 505 f., 532, 542 f.\n\n  Capitalism, as method of industry, 78, 158-60, 498 f., 508, 538, 545;\n    see Capital, Corporation\n\n  Carelessness, 462-4\n\n  Carlyle, criticism of individualism, 161, 192;\n    of utilitarianism, 265, 289 n.\n\n  Casuistry, 325-8\n\n  Categorical Imperative, 344\n\n  Celts, clan system of, 144;\n    see also Ireland, Welsh\n\n  Character, formation of, 9 f.;\n    organization of, in group morality, 72;\n    in Hebrews, 104-6;\n    among Greeks, 138-41;\n    relation to desire and deliberation, 202;\n    moral importance of, 229, 233;\n    relation to will, 246;\n    relation to conduct, Chapter XIII.;\n    and disposition, 254-7;\n    measures the pleasant and unpleasant, 277-9;\n    unification of, 283;\n    its reconstruction, 343, 362;\n    recognized by law, 460 f.\n\n  Charity, in Middle Ages, 146, 157;\n    and right to life, 444;\n    see Benevolence\n\n  Chastity, 146, 177\n\n  Chief, authority of, 61\n\n  Child-labor, 193 f., 444, 489, 538, 540 f.\n\n  Chinese customs, 17 f., 69\n\n  Chivalry, 149 f.\n\n  Christian conceptions, love, 100;\n    sacrifice, 102;\n    faith, 103;\n    freedom, 108;\n    social order, 109, 187;\n    asceticism and authority, 145 f., 364;\n    unity of members, 147;\n    moral value of labor, 156;\n    relation to social order, 184 ff.;\n    see Church, Hebrew\n\n  Church, its contribution to modern morality, 142;\n    its ideals, 145;\n    and jural theory of morals, 218 f.;\n    its influence on history of the family, 576-8;\n    see also Religion\n\n  Cicero, 152\n\n  Civil Society, Chapter XXI.;\n    defined, 451;\n    reform of its administration, 471-3\n\n  Clark, J. B., 542\n\n  Class ideals, of Greeks, 116 f.;\n    of Germans and Celts, 144 f.;\n    honor and, 86 f.;\n    as source of moral terms, 175 f.\n\n  Class interests, 84, 94, 119-24, 127, 162, 474\n\n  Closed shop, 559-61\n\n  Collective Agencies,\n    see Corporations, Labor Union, Public Agency, Socialism\n\n  Collectivism, its formula, 484;\n    contrasted with socialism, 556\n\n  Colonna, Aegidius, 147\n\n  Communism, 161\n\n  Competition, modern theory of, 158, 531, 542;\n    tends to destroy itself, 532, 538;\n    crude method of selecting ability, 559;\n    Carlyle on, 161\n\n  Conduct, as subject of ethics, 1;\n    two aspects of, 2;\n    three stages of, 8-10;\n    three levels of, 37-9;\n    first level, Chapter III.;\n    second level, Chapter IV.;\n    third level, Chapters V.-VIII.;\n    nature of, 205, 237-8;\n    relation to character, Chapter XIII.;\n    place of happiness in, Chapter XIV.;\n    place of reason in, Chapter XVI.\n\n  Conflicting services, problem of, 493\n\n  Conscience, transition from custom to, 73 f., 179;\n    Greek symbols of, 139 f.;\n    Stoic suggestion of, 140 f.;\n    with Abelard, 151;\n    meaning of, 183, 188 f.;\n    analysis of, see Intuitionalism, Knowledge, Reason\n\n  Conscientiousness, 405, 434\n\n  Consequences, Chapter XIII.;\n    importance of, 234-5, 238;\n    denied by Kant, 242-4;\n    when foreseen form intention, 247;\n    practical importance, 251;\n    as moral sanctions, 358-60;\n    as self-realization, 392;\n    accidental, 459-60;\n    careless, 463\n\n  Content, see Consequences, and \"What\"\n\n  Contracts, _versus_ status, 20;\n    theory and value of, 158, 452 f., 496;\n    of little benefit to wage-earner, 503-5, 529 f.;\n    as obstacle to legislation, 505 f.;\n    analyzed, 527 ff.\n\n  Control, the right as, 7;\n    in primitive group, 26-9, 32, 34, 52;\n    primitive means of enforcing, 54 ff.;\n    challenged in Greece, 118 ff.;\n    problem of, 217-9;\n    theories concerning, 225, 232;\n    external and internal, 353-61;\n    self-control, 407;\n    see Jural, Law, Standard, Right\n\n  Convention, in Greek morals and ethics, 111 f., 124 f.\n\n  Cooperation, and mutual aid, 43;\n    in industry, 43;\n    in war, 44 f.;\n    in art, 45 f.;\n    as organized in corporations and unions, 495-507\n\n  Corporations, moral difficulties of, 498;\n    management of, 500 f.;\n    relations to employes and public, 501 ff.;\n    require new types of morality, 517-22;\n    capitalization of, 561 ff.\n\n  Corruption, political, 477, 537-9\n\n  Coulanges, 19\n\n  Courage, 42, 118, 410-13\n\n  Courts, primitive, 61;\n    as school of morality, 182 f.;\n    as instruments of oppression, 195;\n    civil, ethical value of, 454;\n    in labor disputes, 504 f.;\n    on police power, 505 f., 555 f.;\n    recognition of public welfare by, 555 f.\n\n  Covenant, in Hebrew moral development, 94 ff.\n\n  Criminal Procedure, reform of, 468-9\n\n  Criterion of the moral, 5-13, 202 ff.;\n    of the good and right, typical theories of, 224 ff.;\n    see Good, Right, Kant, Utilitarianism, Plato, Aristotle\n\n  Crusades, 154\n\n  Cunningham, W., 157\n\n  Custom, and the term ethics, 1;\n    in early group life, 17 ff.;\n    as \"second level\" of conduct, 38, 51;\n    general discussion of, 51 ff., 171 ff.;\n    educational, 57 ff.;\n    jural, 59 ff.;\n    birth, marriage, death, 64 f.;\n    festal, 65;\n    hospitality, 67 f.;\n    values and defects of, 68 ff.;\n    transition to conscience from, 73 ff.;\n    transition among Hebrews, 95 f.;\n    among Greeks, 110 ff.;\n    opposed to \"nature,\" 120 f.;\n    Grote on, 172 f.;\n    compared with reflective morality, 172 ff.;\n    and moral rules, 330-2, 431\n\n  Cultus, of Hebrew priesthood, 97 ff.\n\n  Cynics, 112, 125 f.\n\n  Cyrenaics, 112, 125 f.\n\n\n  Dante, 150\n\n  Darwinism, and morals, 371 f.;\n    see Naturalism\n\n  Deliberation, 202, 319;\n    and intuition, 322-3;\n    and conscience, 421;\n    of crucial importance, 464\n\n  Democracy, in Greece, 119 f.;\n    development of, 151 ff., 162 f.;\n    moral, 303;\n    and moral problems, 474-81;\n    the corporation in relation to, 500;\n    and economic problems, 521 f.;\n    and individualism, 530, 535;\n    as agency, 558;\n    and the family, 594, 600 f.\n\n  Descartes, 164 f.\n\n  Desire, hedonistic theory of, 269;\n    relation to pleasure, 270-1;\n    to happiness, 272-3;\n    and reason, 308;\n    their organization, 317;\n    conflict with duty, 339-46;\n    and temperance, 406-8\n\n  Dharna, 63\n\n  Distribution, theories of, 545-50;\n    present inequalities in, 545;\n    individualism and, 546;\n    equal division, 547;\n    a working programme, 548-50\n\n  Divorce, 574 f., 577, 603-5\n\n  Dominicans, 149 f.\n\n  Duty, Chapter XVII.;\n    Stoic conception, 140 f.;\n    origin of the term, 176;\n    standpoint of, 232;\n    double meaning of, 337;\n    conflict with desire, 340;\n    explanation of, 342-4, 362-3;\n    authority of, 344;\n    social character of, 345;\n    Kant's view, 346-52;\n    utilitarian view of, 353-62\n\n\n  Eastman, Charles, 43, 54, 60\n\n  Eckstein, 577\n\n  Economic conditions and forces, in kinship and family groups, 24 f.;\n    help to effect transition from group morality to conscience, 76;\n    among Hebrews, 93 f.;\n    among Greeks, 119 ff.;\n    modern, 155-63;\n    in reflective morality, 194;\n    restrict physical freedom, 444;\n    and freedom of thought, 447;\n    legislative reform of, 481;\n    in relation to happiness and character, 487 ff.;\n    social aspects of, 491 ff.;\n    require ethical readjustment, 496, 517-22;\n    impersonal character, 511 f.;\n    ethical principles, 514 ff.;\n    unsettled problems, 523-65\n\n  Education, moral significance of, 168 f.;\n    right to, 446 f.;\n    restrictions upon, 448 f.;\n    as a means of justice, 548 f., 557 f.\n\n  Egoism, 214, 258, 303, 423, 467;\n    hedonistic, 288-9 (see Chapter XV.);\n    naturalistic theory of, 368-74;\n    contrasted with altruism, 375;\n    explanation of, 377-81;\n    reasonable self-love, 382;\n    see Self, Individualism\n\n  Ellis, H., 584\n\n  Eliot, George, 154, 301\n\n  Emerson, 349, 350, 446 n., 470, 581\n\n  Empiricism, 226, 231, 306;\n    discussion of, 329-32\n\n  Ends, and Means, 210;\n    relation of happiness to, 273-4;\n    utilitarian, conflicts with its hedonistic motive, 289;\n    social and rational, 314;\n    kingdom of, 315 and 433\n\n  Enlightenment, period of, 163, 165 ff.\n\n  Epictetus, 140\n\n  Epicureans, theory of life, 125, 135, 218;\n    on friendship, 125, 130, 187\n\n  Ethics, definition, 1;\n    derivation of term, 1;\n    specific problem of, 2;\n    method of, 3-13\n\n  _Ethos_, meaning, 1;\n    Chapter IV., 175\n\n  Eudaemonism, 134, 230;\n    see Happiness, Self-realization\n\n  Euripides, 112, 116, 139\n\n  Evil, problem of, in Israel, 100 ff.\n\n  Excitement, and pleasure, 408\n\n  Ezekiel, on personal responsibility, 104\n\n\n  \"Fagan, J. O.,\" 503\n\n  Family, or Household Group, 23-31;\n    as an agency in early society, 47-9;\n    as affected by reflective morality, 193;\n    and contract, 453;\n    history of, 571-8;\n    psychological basis of, 578-84;\n    strain in, 584-9;\n    present factors of strain in, 590-4;\n    and the economic order, 594-9;\n    authority in, 599-603;\n    and divorce, 603-5\n\n  Feelings, the hedonistic ultimate, 225;\n    an ambiguous term, 249-51;\n    Mill on importance of, 294\n\n  Feud, see Blood Feud\n\n  Fichte, 490\n\n  Fisher, G. P., 143\n\n  Fiske, John, 581\n\n  Franchises, abuses of, 539\n\n  Franciscans, 149 f.\n\n  Francke, Kuno, 149\n\n  Freedom, Pauline conception, 108;\n    formal and real, 158 ff., 437-9, 483 f., 525 f., 529, 549;\n    see Rights\n\n  Freund, E., 555\n\n\n  Galileo, 164\n\n  Genetic Method in Ethics, 3\n\n  Gentleman, in Greece, 116 f.;\n    mediaeval and class ideal of, 144 f., 149, 155-7\n\n  Genung, J. F., 102\n\n  George, Henry, 162, 510 f.\n\n  Germans, customs of, 18, 53;\n    character and ideals, 143 f., 149;\n    family among, 575 f.\n\n  Golden Rule; 334\n\n  Good, the, as subject of ethics, 1, 7 f., 12, 203-5, 215, 236, 241;\n    origin of the conception of moral, 183 f.;\n    in group morality, 69-72;\n    Hebrew ideals of, 107-9;\n    significance in Greek thought, 113, 117, 119, 124;\n    Greek individualistic and hedonistic theories of, 126;\n    Plato on, 131-4, 136 f., 140;\n    Aristotle on, 134 f., 138;\n    and modern civilization, 154 ff., 557 f.;\n    as happiness, 169, Chapter XIV.;\n    private and general, 289-300, 308;\n    the true, 208, 284, 302;\n    good men as standard, 279, 324;\n    rational and sensuous, 337;\n    wealth as, 487;\n    see Happiness, Value\n\n  Goodness, 233, 251;\n    formal and material, 259 n.;\n    of character, 279;\n    and happiness, 284;\n    and social interest, 298;\n    intrinsic, 318-20;\n    and progress, 422;\n    see Virtue\n\n  Government, distrust of, 474;\n    reform of, 479-80;\n    see also State\n\n  Gray, J. H., 17\n\n  Greeks, early customs, 18 f., 46;\n    compared with Hebrews, 91 f.;\n    moral development of, 111-41, 197, 215, 217 f.\n\n  Green, on duty, 225;\n    on hedonism, 269;\n    on practical value of utilitarianism, 287-8;\n    on moral progress, 429\n\n  Grosscup, Judge, 552\n\n  Grote, 19, 172 f., 178\n\n  Group ideal, mediaeval, 144 f.;\n    see Class Ideal\n\n  Group Life, early, Chapter II.;\n    necessary to understand moral life, 17;\n    typical facts of, 17;\n    kinship, 21 ff.;\n    family, 23 ff.;\n    ownership of land in, 24;\n    other economic aspects of, 25 f.;\n    political aspects of, 26-30;\n    rights and responsibilities of individual in, 27-30;\n    religious aspects of, 30-2;\n    age and sex groups in, 32-4;\n    moral significance of, 34 f.\n\n  Group Morality, 34 f., 51 ff.;\n    values and defects of, 68-73;\n    in early Hebrew life, 92;\n    in Middle Ages, 144 f.;\n    persistence of, 173-8;\n    in legal progress, 456;\n    and international relations, 481 f.;\n    in industrial conflicts, 500\n\n\n  Habit, and character, 9 f., 12, 202;\n    effect on knowledge, 319;\n    effect upon desire, 342-3\n\n  Hadley, A. T., 475 n., 488, 563\n\n  Hammurabi, Code of, 82, 105, 574\n\n  Happiness, and pleasure, 230, 263;\n    ambiguity in conception of, 266;\n    relation to desire, 272-4;\n    as standard, 275-80;\n    elements in its constitution, 281-3;\n    final or moral, 284;\n    general, 286;\n    and sympathy, 300-3;\n    and efficiency, 373;\n    private and public, 395-7;\n    see Eudaemonism, Good\n\n  Hazlitt, on Bentham, 268;\n    on excitement, 409 n.\n\n  Hearn, 24\n\n  Hebrews, early morality, 18;\n    moral development, 91-110;\n    compared with Greek, 91\n\n  Hedonism, 230;\n    Hebrew, 106 f.;\n    Greek, 126, 132 f.;\n    criticism of, 269-75;\n    universalistic, 286;\n    egoistic character of, 289-94;\n    Kant's, 309;\n    paradox of, 352;\n    its theory of duty, 353\n\n  Hegel, on institutional character of morals, 225-6\n\n  High-mindedness, Aristotle's description of, 135 n.\n\n  Hobhouse, L. T., on formation of custom, 54;\n    on social order and individuality, 428;\n    on the family, 575 f., 577\n\n  Hoeffding, 253 n.\n\n  Honesty, 188, 414, 496\n\n  Honor, 85-8, 144 f., 176\n\n  Hosea, 95\n\n  Hospitality, in group morality, 67\n\n  \"How,\" the, in conduct, 5-8, 228 f., 240;\n    in group morality, 69 f.;\n    in Hebrew morality, 102 ff.;\n    in Greek ethics, 136 ff.;\n    see Attitude\n\n  Howard, 576\n\n\n  Ibsen, 82, 100, 157, 303, 588\n\n  Ideal, _vs._ actual in Greek thought, 136-8;\n    meaning of, 421 f.\n\n  India, customs of, 26, 63, 524\n\n  Indians (American), 25, 43, 54, 60\n\n  Indifferent Acts, 205-6, 210-11\n\n  Individual, the, in early group life, 20, 22 f., 27-30, 34, 71 f.;\n    collision of with group, 74, 75 f., 82 ff., 88, 184-7, 432;\n    among Hebrews, 104;\n    development of, in modern civilization, 148-69;\n    as affected by reflective morality, 187-92;\n    and society, 427-36;\n    relation to corporations\n    and unions, 500-3;\n    see Individualism, Self\n\n  Individualism, as factor in transition from custom to conscience, 75;\n    forces producing, 76-87;\n    in Israel, 94, 102, 104;\n    in Greece, 114-24, 432;\n    in Greek ethical theory, 124-6;\n    in modern world, 149-63, 184-6, 220-3, 432 f.;\n    in ethical theory, 225 f., 290;\n    Carlyle's criticism of, 265 f.;\n    hedonistic, 289 ff., 301 f.;\n    as self-assertion, 368-75;\n    true and false, 481;\n    political formula of, 483 f.;\n    in economic theory, 523-35;\n    democratic, 525, 530 f.;\n    \"survival of the fittest,\" 525, 532-4;\n    values, 527 f., 548 f.;\n    does not secure real freedom, 529;\n    nor justice, 530 ff., 535, 546 f.;\n    other defects of, 551 ff.;\n    in U. S. Constitution, 534;\n    on \"unearned increment,\" 564 f.;\n    in family, 604;\n    see Individual, Self\n\n  Industry, as a rationalizing agency, 39-42;\n    differentiation in, 41;\n    as a socializing agency, 42 f.;\n    factor in effecting transition from custom to conscience, 76-8;\n    modern development of, 155-9;\n    agencies of, 497\n\n  Initiation, in primitive tribes, 58\n\n  Institutions, 192-5, 222, 225-6;\n    see Chapter XX.\n\n  Intention, and Motive, 246-54, 257-8, 261;\n    and accident, 63, 104, 459-60;\n    see Deliberation\n\n  Intuitionalism, 226, 232, 306;\n    discussion of, 317-25;\n    and casuistry, 325-8\n\n  Ireland, ancient law of, 24 f., 62, 83\n\n  Israel, moral development of, 91-110, 197\n\n\n  James, William, on the social self, 85-7;\n    on animal activity, 204;\n    on effect of emotion on ideas, 253\n\n  Japanese morality, 18\n\n  Jesus, 106 f., 109\n\n  Job, moral theory in, 97, 101 f., 106\n\n  Judgments, moral; see Moral\n\n  Jural influence, 7, 103, 113 f., 177, 218-9, 224, 328, 353-6, 439,\n         454-5, 467-8\n\n  Justice, in primitive society, 27 f.;\n    as Hebrew ideal, 94 f., 99 f., 108 f.;\n    in Greek theory, 113 f.;\n    natural and conventional, 120 f.;\n    as interest of the stronger, 122-4;\n    modern demand for, 148, 161 ff.;\n    and charity, 148, 389 f.;\n    virtue of, 414-7;\n    development of civil, 456-63;\n    formal and substantial, 465 f., 531;\n    social, 161, 410, 521, 556-8;\n    the new, 496 f.;\n    and individualism, 530-5;\n    in distribution, theories of, 545-50\n\n\n  Kafirs, clanship among, 19, 35\n\n  Kant, on unsocial sociableness of man, 75;\n    forces of progress, 87 f.;\n    his _Critique of Pure Reason_, 166;\n    on dignity of man, 167;\n    general standpoint, 169;\n    individualism of, 191;\n    and the \"law of nature,\" 222 n.;\n    on moral law, 228-9;\n    on the Good Will, 241-3;\n    his theory of will discussed, 241-46;\n    on egoistic hedonism, 289;\n    theory of practical reason, 309-17;\n    theory of duty, 344, 346-52;\n    on legality and morality, 432;\n    cf. also 231, 492, 580\n\n  Kidd, Dudley, 19, 23, 35\n\n  Kinship, 21 ff.; see Group Life\n\n  Knowledge, place in morals, 215;\n    theories of, 231-2;\n    close connection with emotion, 256 n.;\n    with character, 279;\n    see Chapter XVI.;\n    Kant's theory of, 309-16;\n    intuitional theory of, 317-24;\n    casuistical view, 325-9;\n    principles in, 333-4;\n    and sympathy, 334;\n    and conscience, 418-23\n\n\n  Labor, differentiation of, in early society, 41;\n    the gentleman and, 156;\n    church and, 156;\n    and the law, 504-7;\n    conditions of, 540 f.;\n    of women and children, 540 f.;\n    exploitation of, 542-4;\n    Prof. Seager's programme for benefit of, 566 ff.;\n    see Industry, Labor Union, Capital\n\n  Labor Union, moral aspects of, 499 f.;\n    revives group morality, 500;\n    relations to the law, 503 ff.;\n    disadvantages of, 503-6;\n    violence of, 541;\n    open and closed shop, 559 ff.\n\n  Laissez-faire, 161, 475\n\n  Land, \"unearned increment,\" 510 f., 564 f.\n\n  Lankester, Ray, 168\n\n  Law, as control in group life, 59-63;\n    in Hebrew moral development, 95-8;\n    righteousness of the, 103;\n    Greek conceptions of, 118-23;\n    of nature, 130, 136, 152, 222;\n    Roman, 142, 152, 222;\n    and government, 194 f.;\n    as defining rights, 454;\n    development of, 456 ff.;\n    formal in, 465;\n    needed reforms in, 468 ff.;\n    relation to corporations and unions, 503-7;\n    needed to embody and enforce moral standards, 520 f.;\n    moral, see Jural;\n    and Right; see Civil Society, Courts, Justice, Legal, State\n\n  Legal and Moral, 177, 182 f., 433, 439, 454-5, 467-8;\n    see also Jural, Law, Right\n\n  Leibniz, 165\n\n  Levels of conduct, 37-9, 51, 73\n\n  Liability, equals external responsibility, 436\n\n  Liberty, struggle for, 84 f.;\n    see Freedom, Rights\n\n  \"Life,\" Hebrew and Christian moral ideal, 107;\n    the moral as, 606\n\n  Locke, on natural rights, 152;\n    on the \"natural light,\" 166;\n    his _Essay_, 166;\n    on danger of fixed rules, 329\n\n  Love, between the sexes, 107;\n    psychological analysis of, 578 ff.;\n    as moral ideal, 100, 108 f.\n\n  Lubbock, 428\n\n\n  Machine, in production, 507 f.\n\n  MacLennan, 24\n\n  Magic, contrasted with religion, 30 n.;\n    influence on morals, 457 f.;\n    see Taboos\n\n  Maine, status and contract, 20;\n    Slav families, 60\n\n  Mallock, W. H., 533\n\n  Marriage, regulations for, in group morality, 64 f.;\n    violation of, provokes moral reflection, 106;\n    in reflective morality, 193;\n    and contract, 453;\n    Roman, 574 f.;\n    church views of, 576 f.;\n    see Divorce, Family, Sex\n\n  Marti, 98\n\n  Mead, G. H., 164\n\n  Mean, Aristotle's conception of, 134 f.\n\n  Measure, among Greeks, 112 f.\n\n  Men's clubs and houses, 32 f.\n\n  Micah, 99\n\n  Mill, John Stuart, on Bentham's method, 235 n.;\n    on motive and intention, 248;\n    on disposition, 254;\n    on partial and complete intent, 256;\n    on the desirable, 265;\n    on the quality of pleasure, 279-80;\n    on utilitarian standard, 286;\n    on general happiness, 290;\n    criticism of Bentham, 293;\n    on desire for social unity, 294, 295, 296;\n    on personal affections, 299 n.;\n    on general rules, 330;\n    as democratic individualist, 525;\n    on private property, 553 f., 556;\n    on equality in the family, 601\n\n  Monasticism, 149 f., 185 f., 187;\n    women under, 576 f.\n\n  Moral, derivation of term, 1 f.;\n    characteristics of, 5-13, 49 f., 51, 73, 89, 201-11;\n    conceptions, derivation of, 175-7;\n    differentiation of, 177-92;\n    see Morality\n\n  Morality, customary or group, 51 ff.;\n    defined, 73;\n    Hebrew, 91 ff. (Chapter VI.);\n    Greek, 111 ff. (Chapter VII.);\n    Modern, 142 ff.;\n    customary and reflective, compared, 171 ff.;\n    subjective and objective, 259;\n    Kant's view of, 309-10;\n    social nature of, 431;\n    and legality, 433, 439;\n    changes in, necessitated by present economic conditions, 496 f.,\n         517 ff.\n\n  Mores, or customs, Chapter IV.;\n    definition, 51;\n    authority and origin of, 52-4;\n    means of enforcing, 54-7, 172\n\n  Moses, 82\n\n  Motives, 216, 228, 237;\n    in customary morality, 70;\n    purity of, insisted on by Hebrews, 105 f.;\n    relation to effort and achievement, 243-6;\n    relation to intention, 246-54, 257-8, 261;\n    hedonistic theory of, criticized, 273, 288-92;\n    sympathy as, 298-300;\n    Kantian view of, 346-8;\n    egoistic, 379-80;\n    altruistic, 385-6;\n    in business, 538, 541 f.\n\n\n  Naturalism, ethical, 369-75;\n    and individualism, in the economic, 525, 532-4;\n    see Nature\n\n  Nature, opposed to convention among Greeks, 111 f.; 124-31, 135;\n    in modern development of rights, 152 f.;\n    versus artificiality of society, 221 f.;\n    see Naturalism\n\n  Nemesis, 132, 139\n\n  Newton, 165\n\n  Nietzsche, 82, 122, 370 n.\n\n  Nineteenth Century, development of intelligence in, 163\n\n\n  Obligations, 186;\n    and responsibility, 440;\n    and rights, 441;\n    see Duty\n\n  Opportunity, equal, 526 f., 549\n\n  Optimism and courage, 412-3\n\n  \"Oregon case,\" decision of U. S. Supreme Court in, 540\n\n  Ought, 176;\n    see Duty\n\n  Owen, 161\n\n\n  Paley, 354 n.\n\n  Parsifal, 149\n\n  Parties, political, 478\n\n  Paul, his ethics, 100, 108 f.\n\n  Peace, as moral ideal, 108\n\n  Perfectionism, 231\n\n  Pessimism, and courage, 413\n\n  Pindar, 122\n\n  Plato, on the necessity of the moral sense, 2;\n    moral influence of art, 42;\n    duty to strangers, 67;\n    on measure, 112;\n    religious critic, 116;\n    on the \"gentleman,\" 117;\n    presents arguments of individualists, 120 ff.;\n    on the State, 127, 129 f.;\n    on the good, 131 ff.;\n    on pleasure, 132 f.;\n    on the ideal, 136 ff.;\n    on the self, 140;\n    on rule of wealthy, 491;\n    on private property, 494\n\n  Pleasure, good measured by, among early Hebrews, 107;\n    Greek doctrines of, 125 f., 132 f.;\n    not the object of desire, 269-71;\n    quality, 279, 282, 300;\n    relation to happiness, 230, 281-3;\n    and sympathy, 291-2;\n    control of, 407-8\n\n  Police Power, 505-7, 540 f., 555 f.\n\n  Pollock and Maitland, 460, 576\n\n  Post, 61\n\n  Principles, 179;\n    nature of, 333-4;\n    as motives, 350-2\n\n  Problems of Moral Theory, Chapter XI. (211-23);\n    classified, 201, 214-5, 239, 263, 307\n\n  Production, moral cost of, 489;\n    efficiency of, in individualistic systems, 527;\n    regulation of, 528 f.\n\n  Property, in primitive groups, 24-6;\n    taboo as substitute for, 55;\n    as factor in growth of individualism, 79 f., 83, 94, 119 f.;\n    Plato on, 130;\n    the Church on, 146 f.;\n    and wealth, 487 f.;\n    and character, 490;\n    social aspects of, 491 f.;\n    private, and social welfare, 493-5;\n    implies public service, 515-7;\n    value of private, 551;\n    defects in present system, 551 ff.\n\n  Prophets, Hebrew, 99 f.\n\n  Protagoras, 2\n\n  Protestantism, conception of marriage, 577\n\n  Public Agency, theory of, 525, Chapter XXV.;\n    advantages claimed by, 537 ff.\n\n  Public ownership, 494 f.\n\n  Publicity, necessity of, 511 f., 520 f.\n\n  Punishment, as necessitating moral judgment, 96 f.;\n    evil viewed as by Hebrews, 96 f., 101;\n    and duty, 353-5;\n    and justice, 417;\n    and social welfare, 442-3;\n    and intent, 461;\n    reform of, 470\n\n  Puritans, conception of God-given rights, 152;\n    of art, 155;\n    emphasized value of work, 156\n\n\n  Reason, as element in the moral, 10, 12, 40-2;\n    as standard among Greeks, 91, 131 f., 134;\n    age of, 163, 166;\n    see Chapter XVI.;\n    defined, 306;\n    relation to desire, 308;\n    _a priori_ of Kant, 310;\n    is social, 315;\n    value of principles, 333;\n    and sympathy, 334;\n    opposition to desire, 338, 340;\n    and virtue, 405;\n    and conscientiousness, 418-23\n\n  Religion, in early group life, 30-2;\n    socializing force, 81 f.;\n    moral agency among Hebrews, 94-102;\n    Greek, 115 f., 139-41;\n    ideals of mediaeval, 145-7;\n    modern development of, 148-50;\n    and customary morality, 180;\n    in reflective morality, 195 ff., 432, 448;\n    as sanction of the family, 582;\n    see Church.\n\n  Renaissance, 163 ff.\n\n  Responsibility, collective, in group life, 17-20, 63, 70, 102;\n    development of personal, 104 f., 141, 153, 158, 182 f.;\n    meaning of, 436-9;\n    for accidents, 458-60;\n    for carelessness and negligence, 463-5;\n    as affected by modern economic conditions, 500-3, 519 f.\n\n  Reverence, 30 n., 59, 71, 140, 407\n\n  Revolution, American, 152;\n    English, 151;\n    French, 152;\n    Industrial, 159, 591\n\n  Riehl, W., 595\n\n  Right, as subject of ethics and moral judgments, 1-3, 37 f., 201-3,\n         215, 218, 224, 307 ff.;\n    meaning of, 7 f., 177, 182 f., 224 f.;\n    as standard, 7, 69, 89, 97;\n    among Hebrews as righteousness, 102-4, 109;\n    among Greeks as justice, 113 f., 140;\n    see also Jural, Justice, Law, Reason, Standard\n\n  Righteousness, typical theme in Hebrew morality, 91 f., 99, 101,\n         102 ff., 109, 188;\n    as justice, 414;\n    see Right, Justice\n\n  Rights, development of, 83 ff., 151 ff.;\n    natural, 152 f.;\n    modern assertion of, 186;\n    and freedom, 440;\n    and obligations, 441;\n    physical, 442-4;\n    mental, 445-9;\n    civil, 452;\n    contract, 452;\n    of association, 453;\n    to use of courts, 454;\n    development of civil, 456-66;\n    political, 473-4\n\n  Ritual, 55\n\n  Romanticists, on art and morality, 155\n\n  Rome, government and law, contribution to modern morality of, 142,\n         152, 218, 222;\n    patriarchal family, 572, 574 f.\n\n  Ross, E. A., 520\n\n  Rousseau, 152 f., 221\n\n  Rules, general, 325-35;\n    and casuistry, 326-8;\n    and legalism, 328-9;\n    utilitarian view of, 329-32;\n    distinguished from principles, 333-4\n\n\n  Sanctions, Bentham's theory of, 354;\n    internal, 359\n\n  Sceptics, 135, 218\n\n  Schiller, 42;\n    on Kant, 349\n\n  Schopenhauer, 82\n\n  Schurtz, 33\n\n  Science, as agency in effecting the transition from custom to\n         conscience, 78-80;\n    in Greek development, 114-9;\n    in modern period, 155, 167 f.;\n    influence on morals, 469, 473-6;\n    as promoting justice, 557-9;\n    and family problems, 593 f., 601-3\n\n  Seager, Henry R., programme of social legislation, 566 ff.\n\n  Secret societies, 33\n\n  Seebohm, F., 29, 61\n\n  Self, higher and lower, 5, 347 f.;\n    social, how built up, 11, 86 ff.;\n    individual and tribal or clan, 23 f.;\n    Greek conception of, 138-41;\n    the twofold, 310;\n    Arnold on, 338;\n    Kant on, 347;\n    as social, 294, 345;\n    fictitious theory of, 221, 361;\n    theories regarding its nature, see Chapter XVIII.;\n    self-denial, 364-8;\n    self-assertion, 368-74;\n    self-love and benevolence, 375-91;\n    self-realization, 391-4;\n    see Individual, Self-sacrifice\n\n  Self-sacrifice, 366-8; cf. 102, 298-304, 380-2, 388-91, 393-5\n\n  Seneca, 140\n\n  Sense, moral, 317-22\n\n  Sex, groups on the basis of, 32 f.;\n    as a socializing agency, 47 f.;\n    as prompting to self-assertion, 82;\n    taboos, 55, 60, 65;\n    in Hebrew conceptions, 98, 107;\n    in different standards for men and women, 142 ff.;\n    vices, 82, 189;\n    psychology of, 578-81;\n    differences between the sexes, 584-8\n\n  Shakspere, 23, 62, 97, 154, 197\n\n  Shop, open _vs._ closed, 559\n\n  Simmons and Wigmore, 18\n\n  Sidgwick, H., 265 n., 286\n\n  Sin, 98, 103 f., 108\n\n  Slav groups, 20, 24 f., 60, 83\n\n  Slavery, 84\n\n  Smith, Adam, on the formation of conscience, 141;\n    on sympathy, 160;\n    _Theory of Moral Sentiments_, 166;\n    as individualist, 525, 527\n\n  Smith, Arthur, 69\n\n  Smith, H. P., 106\n\n  Smith, J. A., 555\n\n  Smith, Munroe, 555 f.\n\n  Smith, W. Robertson, 29 f.\n\n  Social Ends, of utilitarianism, 287 (see Chapter XV.), 296;\n    and happiness, 302-3;\n    and rationality, 314;\n    and duties, 338, 345;\n    and altruism, 389-90;\n    and individuality, 430\n\n  Socialism, doctrine of, 162, 523, 525 f., 535;\n    on production, 537 ff.;\n    in decision of U. S. Supreme Court, 556;\n    see Public Agency, Collectivism, Individualism\n\n  Socializing Process and Agencies, 11, 33, 42 f., 47 f., 57 ff., 186,\n         191\n\n  Socrates, 5, 116, 118\n\n  Sophocles, 35, 112, 118, 139 f.\n\n  Spahr, C. B., 545\n\n  Spargo, John, 543\n\n  Speech, freedom of, 446\n\n  Spencer (Baldwin), and Gillen (F. B.), 22, 58 f.\n\n  Spencer, Herbert, on primitive morality, 70;\n    on nature and morality, 52, 53;\n    on conduct as indifferent and as ethical, 205-6;\n    on feeling as ultimate end, 225;\n    on consequences, 234 n.;\n    on happiness 265 n.;\n    on duty, 358-60;\n    on aesthetic ingredients of happiness, 374 n.;\n    on reward and merit, 515;\n    on voluntary limitation of competition, 532\n\n  Spinoza, 82, 253 n., 397, 410 n.\n\n  Standard, right as, 7;\n    in group morality, 34;\n    custom as, 38, 51 f., 61, 69 f.;\n    law of deity as, 95-7, 103;\n    measure as, 112;\n    popular, in Greece, 116 f.;\n    felt necessity of in Greece, 118, 124;\n    for pleasure, 132 f.;\n    the \"mean\" as, 135 f.;\n    importance of, 138;\n    utilitarians confuse with object of desire, 266-9;\n    why necessary, 274;\n    happiness as, 275-80;\n    general happiness as, Chapter XV.;\n    the rational, 307;\n    revision of, 422;\n    of political action, 482-5\n\n  Standard of living, 503, 504 n., 522, 540-2;\n    Professor Seager's programme for, 566-70\n\n  State, the, early group as germ of, 26-30, 61 f.;\n    as bearer of moral ideals in Israel, 92 f., 100, 108 f.;\n    in Greece, 127;\n    authority challenged, 118-24;\n    Plato and Aristotle on, 127-30;\n    and Church, 146 f., 150;\n    moral effect of organization of, 194 f.;\n    moral value of, 434-6;\n    defined, 451;\n    see Chapter XXI.\n\n  Stephen, on love of happiness, 273;\n    on egoism, 378 n.;\n    also 265 n.\n\n  Stevenson, Mrs. M. C., 66\n\n  Stoics, the \"wise man\" of, 135;\n    on following nature, 136;\n    on inner self, 140;\n    natural law, 136, 142, 152, 222;\n    on conflict between the moral and the actual order, 185;\n    cosmopolitanism, 187;\n    on control of passions, 217\n\n  Sumner, on \"mores,\" 51;\n    on luck, 53;\n    on taboo, 55;\n    on Ethos, 175;\n    gladiatorial shows, 189;\n    on relation between goodness and happiness, 396 n.\n\n  Sutherland, 48\n\n  Sympathetic Resentment, 44, 49, 70;\n    see Sympathy\n\n  Sympathy, as factor in socialization, 11, 35, 44;\n    fostered by art, 45 f.;\n    and family life, 47 f.;\n    and hospitality, 68;\n    when moral, 49, 70;\n    in the moral judgment, 141 n.;\n    modern development of, 160 f.;\n    Bentham's view of, 291-2;\n    Mill's view of, 293-4;\n    importance of, 298-9;\n    principle of knowledge, 334;\n    and duty, 348-9;\n    and efficiency, 370-3;\n    and thoughtfulness, 465;\n    see Sympathetic Resentment\n\n\n  Taboos, 55, 60 f.;\n    Hebrew, 96;\n    survival of, in modern life, 174\n\n  Tariff, protective, 560\n\n  Taxation, 555\n\n  Teleological, types  of  moral theory, 224;\n    see Good, Value\n\n  Temperance, 405-10;\n    Greek view of, 117, 406;\n    Roman, 407;\n    Christian, 408\n\n  Theodorus, 126\n\n  Theory, relation to practice, 4, 212, 606;\n    types of, classified and discussed, 224-39;\n    see also Problems\n\n  Thomas, W., 584\n\n  Thoreau, 489\n\n  Totem groups, 30\n\n  Torts, 455\n\n  Toynbee, A., 492\n\n  Trades Unions, see Labor Union\n\n\n  Unearned Increment, 510 f., 564 f.\n\n  United States, individualism in, 554;\n    Supreme Court decisions, 555 f.\n\n  Utilitarianism, relation of, to modern civilization, 169;\n    theory of intention, 246-52;\n    theory of the good, Chapters XIV. and XV.;\n    method of, 275;\n    introduction of the idea of quality, 279;\n    its social standard, Chapter XV.;\n    theory of general rules, 329-31;\n    theory of duty, 353-61;\n    see also Bentham, Mill\n\n\n  Valuation, changed basis of, 508-11;\n    see Value\n\n  Value, as \"higher and lower,\" 6, 197;\n    the good as, 7 f., 12;\n    measure of, among Hebrews, 107 f.;\n    question and standard of, among the Greeks, 116, 119, 125 ff.;\n    in modern civilization, 153-7, 169, 194;\n    transformation of, 186 f., 558;\n    moral, and incompatible ends, 207-9;\n    and teleological theories, 224;\n    of Good Will, 241\n\n  Veblen, T. B., 488, 515, 592\n\n  Vices, of reflective stage of morality, 189 ff.\n\n  Virtue, 230, 397, Chapter XIX.;\n    origin of term, 156, 176;\n    general meaning, 230, 397;\n    in Greek popular usage, 117 f.;\n    as \"mean,\" 134;\n    as wisdom, 135;\n    highmindedness as, 135;\n    meaning in group morality, 176;\n    \"old-fashioned,\" 188;\n    defined, 399-402;\n    classified, 402-3;\n    aspects of, 403-4;\n    cardinal, 405\n\n  Voltaire, 166, 195\n\n  Voluntary Action, its nature, 9 f., 201 f.;\n    essential to morality, 12 f., 39, 49 f., 73, 89;\n    agencies tending to evoke, 57, 75 ff.;\n    covenant as implying, 95;\n    fundamental, in Hebrew morality, 91, 105 f.;\n    relation to moral theories, 227;\n    divided into \"inner\" and \"outer,\" 227-30; 237-9, 261, 432;\n    place of motive and endeavor, 243-6;\n    place of disposition, 254-8;\n    and accident, 459-60;\n    see Conduct\n\n\n  War, as agency in development, 42, 44, 66, 84;\n    and right to life, 442 f.;\n    and organized humanity, 482\n\n  Wealth, in Israel, 93 f.;\n    in Greece, 119 ff.;\n    and property, 487 f.;\n    subordinate to personality, 514;\n    should depend on activity, 514 f.;\n    implies public service, 515-7;\n    distribution of, 521 f., 545 ff.;\n    see Property\n\n  Welsh, kin group, 29, 61\n\n  Wergild, 30, 62\n\n  Westermarck, 67, 70, 459\n\n  \"What,\" the, meaning of, 5-8;\n    in group morality, 71;\n    in Hebrew morality, 102 ff.;\n    in Greek theory, 125 ff.;\n    relation to the \"how\" as outer to inner, 228-39;\n    see Attitude, Consequences, \"How\"\n\n  Wilamowitz-Moellendorf, 18\n\n  Windelband, 126\n\n  Wisdom, as chief excellence or virtue with Plato, 118;\n    Aristotle, 135;\n    Sceptics, Epicureans, and Stoics, 135;\n    as standard for pleasure, 133;\n    nurse of all the virtues, 405;\n    as conscientiousness, 418-23\n\n  Woman, as \"leisure class,\" 157, 188;\n    as laborer, protection for, 489, 540;\n    and the family, 572 ff.;\n    subordination of, 574 f.;\n    her temperamental and occupational distinction from man, 584 ff.;\n    effect of industrial revolution upon, 591 f.;\n    and occupations, 594 ff.;\n    determines consumption, 598 f.;\n    use of higher training for, 599, 602;\n    see Family, Marriage, Sex\n\n  Work, see Industry, Labor\n\n  Worth, see Value\n\n  Wyclif, 150\n\n\n  Xenophon, 115 f.\n\n\n  Zuni ceremonies, 66\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nAmerican Science Series\n\n\n  Physics.\n\n    By A. L. KIMBALL, Professor in Amherst College.\n\n  Physics.\n\n    By GEORGE F. BARKER.\n\n  Chemistry.\n\n    By IRA REMSEN, President of the Johns Hopkins University.\n\n  Astronomy.\n\n    By SIMON NEWCOMB and EDWARD S. HOLDEN.\n\n  Geology.\n\n    By THOMAS C. CHAMBERLIN and ROLLIN D. SALISBURY, Professors\n    in the University of Chicago.\n\n  Physiography.\n\n    By ROLLIN D. SALISBURY, Professor in the University of Chicago.\n\n  General Biology.\n\n    By WILLIAM T. SEDGWICK, Professor in the Mass. Institute,\n    and EDMUND B. WILSON, Professor in Columbia University.\n\n  Botany.\n\n    By CHARLES E. BESSEY, Professor in the University of Nebraska.\n\n  Zoology.\n\n    By A. S. PACKARD, Professor in Brown University.\n\n  The Human Body.\n\n    By H. NEWELL MARTIN.\n\n  Psychology.\n\n    By WILLIAM JAMES, Professor in Harvard University.\n\n  Ethics.\n\n    By JOHN DEWEY, Professor in Columbia University, and\n    JAMES H. TUFTS, Professor in the University of Chicago.\n\n  Political Economy.\n\n    By FRANCIS A. WALKER.\n\n  Finance.\n\n    By HENRY C. ADAMS, Professor in the University of Michigan.\n\n\n  For full descriptions of the Advanced, Briefer, and Elementary Courses\n  published under each topic, see the publishers' Educational Catalog.\n\n\n  HENRY HOLT & CO.\n\n  34 West 33d Street, N. Y.\n  378 Wabash Ave., Chicago\n\n\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's note:\n\n\n1. Obvious errors in spelling and punctuation have been corrected\n   without comment.\n\n2. The original text includes Greek characters. For this text version\n   these letters have been replaced with transliterations.\n\n3. Certain words use oe ligature in the original.\n\n4. Footnotes have been renumbered and moved from the middle of a\n   paragraph to the end of chapters.\n\n5. Other than that, every effort has been made to represent the text\n   as close to the original as possible.","title":"Ethics","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":205083}