{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_6463/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_6463","id":"gutenberg_6463","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/6463","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Ethics"],"text":"Produced by Scott Pfenninger, Charles Franks\nand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.\n\n\n\n\n\nA HANDBOOK OF ETHICAL THEORY\n\nBY GEORGE STUART FULLERTON\n\n\n\n\n\nTo\n\nMY WIFE\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nWe are all amply provided, with moral maxims, which we hold with more or\nless confidence, but an insight into their significance is not attained\nwithout reflection and some serious effort. Yet, surely, in a field in\nwhich there are so many differences of opinion, clearness of insight and\nbreadth of view are eminently desirable.\n\nIt is with a view to helping students of ethics in our universities and\noutside of them to a clearer comprehension of the significance of morals\nand the end of ethical endeavor, that this book has been written.\n\nI have, in the Notes appended to it, taken the liberty of making a few\nsuggestions to teachers, some of whom have fewer years of teaching behind\nthem than I have. I make no apology for writing in a clear and\nuntechnical style, nor for reducing to a minimum references to\nliteratures in other tongues than our own. These things are in accord\nwith the aim of the volume.\n\nI take this opportunity of thanking Professor Margaret F. Washburn, of\nVassar College, and Professor F. J. E. Woodbridge, of Columbia\nUniversity, for kind assistance, which I have found helpful.\n\nG. S. F. New York, 1921.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\nPART I\n\n_THE ACCEPTED CONTENT OF MORALS_\n\nCHAPTER I. IS THERE AN ACCEPTED CONTENT?\n1. The Point in Dispute.\n2. What Constitutes Substantial Agreement?\n3. Dogmatic Assumption.\n\nCHAPTER II. THE CODES OF COMMUNITIES\n4. The Codes of Communities: Justice.\n5. The Codes of Communities: Veracity.\n6. The Codes of Communities: the Common Good.\n\nCHAPTER III. THE CODES OF THE MORALISTS\n7. The Moralists.\n8. Epicurean and Stoic.\n9. Plato; Aristotle; the Church.\n10. Later Lists of the Virtues.\n11. The Stretching of Moral Concepts.\n12. The Reflective Mind and the Moral Codes.\n\nPART II\n\n_ETHICS AS SCIENCE_\n\nCHAPTER IV. THE AWAKENING TO REFLECTION\n13. The Dogmatism of the Natural Man.\n14. The Awakening.\n\nCHAPTER V. ETHICAL METHOD\n15. Inductive and Deductive Method.\n16 The Authority of the \"Given.\"\n\nCHAPTER VI. THE MATERIALS OF ETHICS\n17. How the Moralist should Proceed.\n18. The Philosopher as Moralist.\n\nCHAPTER VII. THE AIM OF ETHICS AS SCIENCE\n19. The Appeal to Reason.\n20. The Appeal to Reason Justified.\n\nPART III\n\n_MAN AND HIS ENVIRONMENT_\n\nCHAPTER VIII. MAN'S NATURE\n21. The Background of Actions.\n22. Man's Nature.\n23. How Discover Man's Nature?\n\nCHAPTER IX. MAN'S MATERIAL ENVIRONMENT\n24. The Struggle with Nature.\n25. The Conquests of the Mind.\n26. The Conquest of Nature and the Well-being of Man.\n\nCHAPTER X. MAN'S SOCIAL ENVIRONMENT\n27. Man is Assigned his Place.\n28. Varieties of the Social Order.\n29. Social Organization.\n30. Social Order and Human Will.\n\nPART IV\n\n_THE REALM OF ENDS_\n\nCHAPTER XI. IMPULSE, DESIRE, AND WILL\n31. Impulse.\n32. Desire.\n33. Desire of the Unattainable.\n34. Will.\n35. Desire and Will not Identical.\n36. The Will and Deferred Action.\n\nCHAPTER XII. THE PERMANENT WILL\n37. Consciously Chosen Ends.\n38. Ends not Consciously Chosen.\n39. The Choice of Ideals.\n\nCHAPTER XIII. THE OBJECT IN DESIRE AND WILL\n40. The Object as End to be Realized.\n41. Human Nature and the Objects Chosen.\n42. The Instincts and Impulses of Man.\n43. The Study of Man's Instincts Important.\n44. The Bewildering Multiplicity of the Objects of Desire, and the Effort\n    to Find an Underlying Unity.\n\nCHAPTER XIV. INTENTION AND MOTIVE\n45. Complex Ends.\n46. Intention.\n47. Motive.\n48. Ethical Significance of Intention and Motive.\n\nCHAPTER XV. FEELING AS MOTIVE\n49. Feeling.\n50. Feeling and Action.\n51. Feeling as Object.\n52. Freedom as Object.\n\nCHAPTER XVI. RATIONALITY AND WILL\n53. The Irrational Will.\n54. One View of Reason.\n55. Dominant and Subordinate Desires.\n56. The Harmonization of Desires.\n57. Varieties of Dominant Ends.\n58. An Objection Answered.\n59. This View of Reason Misconceived.\n60. Another View of Reason.\n\nPART V\n\n_THE SOCIAL WILL_\n\nCHAPTER XVII. CHARACTERISTICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL\n61. What is the Social Will?\n62. Social Will and Social Habits.\n63. Social Will and Social Organization.\n64. The Social Will and Ideal Ends.\n65. The Permanent Social Will.\n\nCHAPTER XVIII. EXPRESSIONS OF THE SOCIAL WILL\n66. Custom.\n67. The Ground for the Authority of Custom.\n68. The Origin and the Persistence of Customs.\n69. Law.\n70. Public Opinion.\n\nCHAPTER XIX. THE SHARERS IN THE SOCIAL WILL\n71. The Community.\n72. The Community and the Dead.\n73. The Community and the Supernatural.\n74. Religion and the Community.\n75. The Spread of the Community.\n\nPART VI\n\n_THE REAL SOCIAL WILL_\n\nCHAPTER XX. THE IMPERFECT SOCIAL WILL\n76. The Apparent and the Real Social Will.\n77. The Will of the Majority.\n78. Ignorance and Error and the Social Will.\n79. Heedlessness and the Social Will.\n80. Rational Elements in the Irrational Will.\n81. The Social Will and the Selfishness of the Individual.\n\nCHAPTER XXI. THE RATIONAL SOCIAL WILL\n82. Reasonable Ends.\n83. An Objection Answered.\n84. Reasonable Social Ends.\n85. The Ethics of Reason.\n86. The Development of Civilization.\n\nCHAPTER XXII. THE INDIVIDUAL AND THE SOCIAL WILL\n87. Man's Multiple Allegiance.\n88. The Appeal to Reason.\n89. The Ethics of Reason and the Varying Moral Codes.\n\nPART VII\n\n_THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS_\n\nCHAPTER XXIII. INTUITIONISM\n90. What is it?\n91. Varieties of Intuitionism.\n92. Arguments for Intuitionism.\n93. Arguments against Intuitionism.\n94. The Value of Moral Intuitions.\n\nCHAPTER XXIV. EGOISM\n95. What is Egoism?\n96. Crass Egoisms.\n97. Equivocal Egoism?\n98. What is Meant by the Self?\n99. Egoism and the Broader Self.\n100. Egoism not Unavoidable.\n101. Varieties of Egoism.\n102. The Arguments for Egoism.\n103. The Argument against Egoism.\n104. The Moralist's Interest in Egoism.\n\nCHAPTER XXV. UTILITARIANISM\n105. What is Utilitarianism?\n106. Bentham's Doctrine.\n107. The Doctrine of J. S. Mill.\n108. The Argument for Utilitarianism.\n109. The Distribution of Happiness.\n110. The Calculus of Pleasures.\n111. The Difficulties of Other Schools.\n112. Summary of Arguments for Utilitarianism.\n113. Arguments against Utilitarianism.\n114. Transfigured Utilitarianism.\n\nCHAPTER XXVI. NATURE, PERFECTION, SELF-REALIZATION\nI. _Nature_\n115. Human Nature as Accepted Standard.\n116. Human Nature and the Law of Nature.\n117. Vagueness of the Law of Nature.\n118. The Appeal to Nature and Intuitionism.\n\nII. _Perfection_\n119. Perfection and Type.\n120. More and Less Perfect Types.\n121. Perfectionism and Intuitionism.\n\nIII. _Self-realization_\n122. The Self-realization Doctrine.\n123. The Doctrine Akin to that of Following Nature.\n124. Is the Doctrine More Egoistic?\n125. Why Aim to Realize Capacities?\n126. The Problem of Self-sacrifice.\n127. Self-satisfaction and Self-sacrifice.\n128. Can Moral Self-sacrifice be a Duty?\n129. Self-sacrifice and the Identity of Selves.\n130. Questions which Seem to be Left Open.\n\nCHAPTER XXVII. THE ETHICS OF EVOLUTION\n131. The Significance of the Title.\n132. Evolution and the Schools of the Moralists.\n133. The Ethics of Individual Evolutionists.\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII. PESSIMISM\n134. The Philosophy of the Pessimist.\n135. Comment on the Ethics of Pessimism.\n\nCHAPTER XXIX. KANT, HEGEL AND NIETZSCHE\n136. Kant.\n137. Hegel.\n138. Nietzsche.\n\nPART VIII\n\n_THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL_\n\nCHAPTER XXX. ASPECTS OF THE ETHICS OF REASON\n139. The Doctrine Supported by the Other Schools.\n140. Its Method of Approach to Problems.\n141. Its Solution of Certain Difficulties.\n142. The Cultivation of Our Capacities.\n\nCHAPTER XXXI. THE MORAL LAW AND MORAL IDEALS\n143. Duties and Virtues.\n144. The Negative Aspect of the Moral Law.\n145. How Can One Know the Moral Law?\n\nCHAPTER XXXII. THE MORAL CONCEPTS\n146. Good and Bad; Right and Wrong.\n147. Duty and Obligation.\n148. Reward and Punishment.\n149. Virtues and Vices.\n150. Conscience.\n\nCHAPTER XXXIII. THE ETHICS OF THE INDIVIDUAL.\n151. What is Meant by the Term?\n152. The Virtues of the Individual.\n153. Conventional Morality.\n\nCHAPTER XXXIV. THE ETHICS OF THE STATE\n154. The Aim of the State.\n155. Its Origin and Authority.\n156. Forms of Organization.\n157. The Laws of the State.\n158. The Rights and Duties of the State.\n\nCHAPTER XXXV. INTERNATIONAL ETHICS\n159. What is Meant by the Term.\n160. Our Method of Approach to the Subject.\n161. Some Problems of International Ethics.\n162. The Other Side of the Shield.\n163. The Solution.\n164. The Necessity for Caution.\n\nCHAPTER XXXVI. ETHICS AND OTHER DISCIPLINES\n165. Sciences that Concern the Moralist.\n166. Ethics and Philosophy.\n167. Ethics and Religion.\n168. Ethics and Belief.\n169. The Last Word.\n\nNOTES\n\nINDEX\n\n\n\n\n\nPART I\n\nTHE ACCEPTED CONTENT OF MORALS\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nIS THERE AN ACCEPTED CONTENT?\n\n\n1. THE POINT IN DISPUTE.--Is there an accepted content of morals? Can we\nuse the expression without going on to ask: Accepted where, when, and by\nwhom?\n\nTo be sure, certain eminent moralists have inclined to maintain that men\nare in substantial agreement in regard to their moral judgments. Joseph\nButler, writing in the first half of the eighteenth century, came to the\nconclusion that, however men may dispute about particulars, there is an\nuniversally acknowledged standard of virtue, professed in public in all\nages and all countries, made a show of by all men, enforced by the\nprimary and fundamental laws of all civil constitutions: namely, justice,\nveracity, and regard to common good. [Footnote: _Dissertation on the\nNature of Virtue._] Sir Leslie Stephen, writing in the latter half of\nthe nineteenth, tells us that \"in one sense moralists are almost\nunanimous; in another they are hopelessly discordant. They are unanimous\nin pronouncing certain classes of conduct to be right and the opposite\nwrong. No moralist denies that cruelty, falsity and intemperance are\nvicious, or that mercy, truth and temperance are virtuous.\" [Footnote:\n_The Science of Ethics_, chapter i, Sec. 1.]\n\nIn other words, these writers would teach us that men are, on the whole,\nagreed in approving, explicitly or implicitly, some standard of conduct\nsufficiently definite to serve as a code of morals. But that there is\nsuch a substantial agreement among men has not impressed all observers to\nthe same degree. Locke, who wrote before Butler, based his arguments\nagainst the existence of innate moral maxims upon the wide divergencies\nfound among various classes of men touching what is right and what is\nwrong. [Footnote: _Essay Concerning Human Understanding_, Book I,\nchapter iii.] The historian, the anthropologist and the sociologist\nreinforce his reasonings with a wealth of illustration not open to the\nmen of an earlier time. They present us with codes, not a code; with\nmultitudinous standards, not a single standard; with what has been\naccepted here or there, at this time or at that; and we may well ask\nourselves where, amid this profusion, we are to find the one and\nacceptable code.\n\n2. WHAT CONSTITUTES SUBSTANTIAL AGREEMENT?--To be sure, we may be very\ngenerous in our interpretation of what constitutes substantial agreement;\nwe may deny significance to all sorts of discrepancies by relegating them\nto the unimpressive class of \"disputes about particulars.\" Such an\nimpressionistic indifference to detail may leave us with something on our\nhands as little serviceable as a composite photograph made from\nindividual objects which have little in common, a blur lacking all\ndefinite outline and not recognizable as any object at all. No man can\nguide his conduct by the common core of many or of all moral codes. Taken\nin its bald abstraction, it is not a code or anything like a code. Who\ncan walk, without walking in some particular way, in some direction, at\nsome time? Who can mind his manners without being mannerly in accordance\nwith the usages of some race or people?\n\nThose who content themselves with enunciating very general moral\nprinciples may, it is true, be of no little service to their fellow-men;\nbut that is only because their fellow-men are able to supply the details\nthat convert the blur into a picture. Some twenty-four hundred years ago\nHeraclitus told his contemporaries \"to act according to nature with\nunderstanding\"; we are often told today that the rule of our lives should\nbe \"to do good.\" Had the ancient Greek not possessed his own notions of\nwhat might properly be meant by nature and by understanding, did we not\nourselves have some rather definite conception of what actions may\nproperly fall under the caption of doing good, such admonitions could not\nlead to the stirring of a finger. Who would appeal to his physician for\nadvice as to diet, if he expected from him no more than the counsel to\neat, at the proper hours, enough, but not too much, of suitable food?\n\nIf, then, we confine our admonitions to the group of abstractions which\nconstitute the universally acknowledged standard of virtue when all the\nindividual differences which characterize different codes have been\nignored, we preach what, taken alone, no man can live by, and no\ncommunity of men has ever attempted to live by. If we leave it to our\nhearers to drape our naked abstractions with concrete details, each will\nset to work in a different way. The method of the composite photograph\nseems unprofitable in attempting to solve the problem of morals.\n\n3. DOGMATIC ASSUMPTION.--There is, however, a second way by which the\nvariations which characterize different codes may come to be relegated to\na position of relative insignificance. We may assume that our own code is\nthe ultimate standard by which all others are to be judged, and we may\nset down deviations from it to the account of the ignorance or the\nperversity of our fellowmen. So regarded, they are aberrations from the\nnormal, and only true code of conduct; interesting, perhaps, but little\nenlightening, for they can have little bearing upon our conception of\nwhat we ought to do.\n\nA presumption against this arbitrary assumption that we have the one and\nonly desirable code is suggested the unthinking acceptance of the\ntraditional by those who are lacking in enlightenment and in the capacity\nreflection. Is it not significant that a contact with new ways of\nthinking has a tendency, at least, to make men broaden their horizon and\nto revise some of their views?\n\nIn other fields, we hope to attain to a capacity for self-criticism. We\nexpect to learn from other men. Why should we, in the sphere of morals,\nlay claim to the possession of the truth, the whole truth, and nothing\nbut the truth? Why should we refuse to learn from anyone? Such a position\nseems unreasoning. It puts moral judgments beyond the pale of argument\nand intelligent discussion. It is an assumption of infallibility little\nin harmony with the spirit of science. The fact that a given standard of\nconduct is in harmony with our traditions, habits of thought, and\nemotional responses, does not prove to other men that it is, not one of a\nnumber of accepted codes, but in a quite peculiar sense acceptable, a\nthing to put in a class by itself--the class into which each mother puts\nher own child, as over against other children.\n\nMoreover, such an unreasoned assumption of superiority must make one\nlittle sympathetic in one's attitude toward the moral life of other\npeoples. Into the significance of their social organization, of their\ncustoms, their laws, one can gain no insight. Their hopes, their fears,\ntheir strivings, their successes and their failures, their approval and\ndisapproval of their fellows, their peace of conscience and their\nremorse, must leave us cold and aloof.\n\nIt is not profitable for us to assume at the outset that the differences\nexhibited in the moral judgments of individuals or of peoples are of\nminor significance. They are facts to be dealt with in the light of some\ntheory. An ethical theory which ignores them must rest upon a narrow and\ninsecure foundation. It is exposed to assault from many quarters. It may,\nin default of better means of defence, be compelled to take refuge behind\nthe blind wall of dogmatic assertion. On the other hand, a theory which\ngives them frank recognition, and strives to exhibit their real\nsignificance in the life of the individual and of the race, may be able\nto show lying among them the golden cord of reason which saves them from\nthe charge of being incoherent facts. It may even lead us back to a\nconservatism no longer unreasoning, but rationally defensible and\nconscious of its proper limits. The blindly conservative man seems to be\nfaced with the alternative of stagnation or revolution. The rationally\nconservative may regard the development of the moral life as a Pilgrim's\nProgress, not without its untoward accidents, but, in spite of them, a\ngradual advance toward a desirable goal.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nTHE CODES OF COMMUNITIES\n\n\n4. THE CODES OF COMMUNITIES: JUSTICE.--In view of the existing tendency\nin the average man, and even in some philosophers, to pass lightly over\nthe diversities exhibited by different codes, it is well to cast a brief\npreliminary glance at the content of morals as accepted, both by\ncommunities of men, and by their more reflective spokesmen, the\nmoralists. Let us first take a look at the codes of communities.\n\nWe have seen that Butler viewed justice, veracity and regard to common\ngood as virtues accepted among men everywhere. But we may also see, if we\nlook into his pages, that he neglected to point out that there may be the\nwidest divergencies in men's notions of what constitutes justice,\nveracity and common good. And men differ widely on the score of the\ndegree of emphasis to be laid upon their observance.\n\nTake justice. Where men possess a code, written or unwritten, that may\nproperly be called moral, we expect of them the judgment that guilt\nshould be punished. But what shall be accounted guilt? What shall be the\nmeasure of retribution? Who shall be fixed upon as guilty?\n\nAs to what constitutes guilt. We have only to remind ourselves that the\nDyak head-hunter is not condemned by his fellows, but is admired;\n[Footnote: WESTERMARCK, _The Origin and Development of the Moral\nIdeas_, London, 1906, I, chapter xiv.] that the fattening and eating\nof a slave may, in a given primitive community, be accounted no crime;\n[Footnote: WESTERMARCK, _op. cit._ II, chapter xlvi.] that\ninfanticide has been most widely approved, and that not merely in\nprimitive communities, for Greece and Rome, when they were far from\nprimitive, practiced certain forms of it with a view to the good of the\nstate; [Footnote: _Ibid._, I, chapter xvii.] that the holding of a\nfellow-creature in bondage, and exploiting him for one's own advantage,\neven under the lash, was, until recently, not a crime in the eye of the\nlaw even in the most civilized states. On the other hand, it may be a\ncrime to eat a female opossum. [Footnote: _Ibid._, I, chapter iv, p.\n124.] The impressive imperative: Thou shalt not! appears to bear\nunmistakable reference to time and circumstance.\n\nAnd what is the natural and proper measure of punishment? The ancient and\nprimitive rule of an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth suggests the\nfigure of the scales, the impartially meting out to each man of his due.\nIt is obviously a rule that cannot be applied in all cases. One cannot\ntake the tooth of a toothless man, or compel a thievish beggar to restore\nfruit which he has eaten. We should be horrified were any serious attempt\nmade to make the rule the basis of legislation in any civilized state\ntoday, but men have not always been so fastidious. Approximations to it\nhave been incorporated into the laws of various peoples.\n\nBut all have modified it to some degree, and the modifications have taken\nmany forms--the punishment of someone not the criminal, compensation in\nmoney or in goods, incarceration, and what not. Nor have the\nmodifications been made solely on account of the difficulty of applying\nthe rule baldly stated. Other influences have been at work.\n\nThus, in the famous Babylonian code, the man who struck out the eye of a\npatrician lost his own eye in return, and his tooth answered for the\ntooth of an equal--but the rule was not made general. [Footnote: 5\nHOBHOUSE, _Morals in Evolution,_ I, chapter iii, Sec 3; New York,\n1906.] In state after state it has been found just to treat differently\nthe patrician, the plebeian, the slave, the man, the woman, the priest.\nIn the very state to which Butler belonged, benefit of clergy could be\nclaimed, up to relatively recent times, by those who could read. The\neducated criminal escaped hanging for offences for which his illiterate\nneighbor had to swing. [Footnote: _Ibid.,_ Sec. 11.]\n\nNor is there any clear concensus of opinion touching the question of who\nshall be selected as the bearer of punishment. If a man has injured\nanother unintentionally, shall he be held to make amends? It has seemed\njust to men that he should. [Footnote: WESTERMARCK, chapter ix.] That one\nman should be made responsible for the misdeeds of another, under the\nprinciple of collective responsibility, has commended itself as just to a\nmultitude of minds. Not merely the sins of the fathers, but those of the\nmost distant relations, those of neighbors, of fellow-tribesmen, of\nfellow-citizens, have been visited upon those whose sole guilt lay in\nsuch a connection with the directly guilty parties. This is not a\nsporadic phenomenon. Among the ancient Hebrews, in Babylonia, in Greece,\nin the later legislation of Rome, in medieval and even in modern Europe,\nthe principle of collective responsibility has been accepted and has\nseemed acceptable. Asia, Africa and Oceania have cast votes for it. So\nhave the Americas. [Footnote: WESTERMARCK, I, chapter ii; DEWEY AND\nTUFTS, _Ethics_, New York, 1919, Part I, chapter ii.]\n\n5. THE CODES OF COMMUNITES: VERACITY.--As to veracity: It has undoubtedly\nbeen valued to some degree, and with certain limitations, by tribes and\nnations the most diverse in their degrees of culture. Did men never speak\nthe truth they might well never speak at all. But to maintain that\nabsolute veracity has at all times been greatly valued would be an\nexaggeration. The lie of courtesy, the clever lie, the lie to the\nstranger, have been and still are, in many communities both uncivilized\nand more advanced, not merely condoned, but approved. With the defence\nwhich has been made of the doctrines of mental reservation and pious\nfraud students of church history are familiar. In diplomacy and in war\ntoday highly civilized nations find deceptions of many sorts profitable\nto them, nor are such generally condemned. [Footnote: WESTERMARCK, II,\nchapters xxx and xxxi.]\n\nWhat modern government does not employ secret service agents, and value\nthem in proportion to the degree of skill with which they manage to\ndeceive their fellows, while limiting the exercise of professional good\nfaith to their intercourse with their paymaster? The secret service agent\nof transparent frankness, who could not bear to deceive his neighbor,\nwould not hold his post for a day. He would be a subject for Homeric\nlaughter.\n\nMoreover, if the question may be raised: what constitutes justice? may\none not equally well ask: what constitutes veracity or its opposite?\nWhere does the silence of indifference shade into purposed concealment,\nand the latter into what is unequivocally deception? At what point does\ndeception blossom out into the unmistakable lie? One may take advantage\nof an accidental misunderstanding of what one has said; one may use\nambiguous language; one may point instead of speaking. Between going\nabout with a head of glass, with all one's thoughts displayed as in a\nshow-case to every comer, and the settled purpose to deceive by the\ndirect verbal falsification, there is a long series of intermediate\npositions. The commercial maxim that one is not bound to teach the man\nwith whom one is dealing how to conduct his business, and the lawyer's\ndictum that the advocate is under no obligation to put himself in the\nposition of the judge, obviously, will bear much stretching.\n\n6. THE CODES OF COMMUNITIES: THE COMMON GOOD.--Nor are the facts which\nconfront us less perplexing when we turn to that \"regard to the common\ngood\" which Butler finds to be acknowledged and enforced by the primary\nand fundamental laws of all civil constitutions. Whether we look at the\npast or view the present, whether we study primitive communities or\nconfine ourselves to civilized nations, we see that common good is not,\napparently, conceived as the good of all men, however much the words\n\"justice\" and \"humanity\" may be upon men's lips.\n\nHas any modern state as yet succeeded in incorporating in its civil\nconstitution such provisions as will ensure to all classes of its\nsubjects any considerable share in the common good? Slaves and animals,\nsaid Aristotle, have no share in happiness, nor do they live after their\nown choice. [Footnote: _Politics_, iii, 9.] The pervading unrest of\nthe modern economic community is due to the widespread conviction that\nthe existing organization of society does not sufficiently make for the\nhappiness of all. Some states with a high degree of culture have not even\nmade a pretence of having any such aim. They have deliberately legislated\nfor the few. [Footnote: The \"citizens\" of the ancient Greek state were a\nprivileged class who legislated in their own interest. Let the reader\nlook into Plato's _Laws_ and Aristotle's _Politics_ and see how\ninconceivable the cultivated Greek found what is now the ideal of a\nmodern democracy. \"Citizens\" should own landed property, and work it by\nslaves, barbarians and servants. They should not be \"ignoble\" mechanics\nor petty traders. Compare the spirit of Froissart's _Chronicles_, in\nthe Middle Ages. See what Bryce (_South America_, New York, 1918,\nchapters xi and xv) says about the position of the Negro in our Southern\nstates, and of the Indians in South American republics.]\n\nEven where the avowed aim is the common good of all, states have assumed\nthat some must be sacrificed for others. Certain individuals are selected\nto die in the trenches in the face of the enemy, that others may be\nguaranteed liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Grotius, the famous\njurist of the seventeenth century, has been criticized for holding that a\nbeleaguered town might justly deliver up to the enemy a small number of\nits citizens in order to purchase immunity for the rest. How far do the\ncases differ in principle? \"Among persons variously endowed,\" wrote\nHegel, \"inequality must occur, and equality would be wrong.\" [Footnote:\nHegel, _The Philosophy of Right_, translated by Dyde, London, 1896,\np. 56.] Commonwealths of many degrees of development have recognized\ninequalities of many sorts, and have treated their subjects accordingly.\n\n\"For diet,\" said Bentham with repellent frankness, \"nothing but self-\nregarding affection will serve.\" Benevolence he considered a valuable\naddition \"for a dessert.\" He had in mind the individual, and he did\ninjustice to individuals in certain of their relations. But how do things\nlook when we turn our attention to the relations between states? Does any\nstate actually make it a practice to treat its neighbor as itself? Would\nits citizens approve of its doing so?\n\nThe Roman was compelled to formulate a _jus gentium_, a law of\nnations, to deal with those who held, to him, a place beyond the pale of\nlaw as he knew it. [Footnote: See SIR HENRY MAINE, _Ancient Law_,\nchapter iii.] Many centuries have elapsed since pagan philosophers taught\nthe brotherhood of man, and since Christian divines began to preach it\nwith passionate fervor. Yet civilized nations today are still seeking to\nfind a _modus vivendi_, which may put an end to strife and enable\nthem to live together. The _jus gentium_, or its modern equivalent,\nis, alas! still in its rudiments.\n\nTo obviate misunderstanding at this point, it is well to state that, in\nadducing all the above facts, I do not mean to argue that it is abnormal\nand an undesirable thing that the scales of justice should, at times, be\nweighted in divers ways. I am not maintaining that the distribution of\ncommon good should proceed upon the principle of strict impartiality.\nWhat is possible and is desirable in this field is not something to be\ndecided off-hand. But the facts suffice to illustrate the truth that the\ndiscrepancies to be found in the codes of different communities can\nscarcely be dismissed as unimportant details. They are something far too\nsignificant for that.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE CODES OF THE MORALISTS\n\n\n7. THE MORALISTS.--If, from the codes, or the more or less vague bodies\nof opinion, which have characterized different communities, we turn to\nthe moralists, we find similar food for thought.\n\nBut who are the moralists? Can we put into one class those who preach a\nshort-sighted selfishness or a calculating egoism and those who urge upon\nus the law of love? Those who recommend a contempt of mankind, and those\nwho inculcate a reverence for humanity? Those who incline to leave us to\nour own devices, telling us to listen to conscience, and those who draw\nup for us elaborate sets of rules to guide conduct? The histories of\nethics are rather tolerant in herding together sheep and goats. And not\nwithout reason. Those whom they include have been in a sense the\nspokesmen of their fellows. Their words have found an echo in the souls\nof many. They are concerned with a rule of life, and their rule of life,\nsuch as it is, rests upon some principle which has impressed men as being\nnot wholly unreasonable.\n\nIn taking a glance at what they have to offer us, I shall not go far\nafield, and shall exercise a brevity compatible with the purpose of mere\nillustration. To the moralists of ancient Greece, and, to a lesser\ndegree, to those of the Roman Empire, to the Christian teachers who\nsucceeded to their heritage in the centuries which followed, and to the\nmore or less independent thinkers who made their appearance after the\nReformation, we can trace our ethical pedigree. For our purpose we need\nseek no wider field. Here we may find sufficiently notable contrasts of\nopinion to disturb the dogmatic slumber of even an inert mind. The most\ncursory glance makes us inclined to accept with some reserve Stephen's\nclaim that \"the difference between different systems is chiefly in the\ndetails and special application of generally admitted principles.\"\n\n8. EPICUREAN AND STOIC.--Thus, Aristippus of Cyrene advised men to grasp\nthe pleasure of the moment rather than to await the more uncertain\npleasure of the future; but he also counselled, for prudential reasons,\nthe avoidance of a conflict with the laws. Such advice takes cognizance\nof the self-love of the individual, and is not self-love reasonable?\nNevertheless, such advice might be given by a discouraged criminal of a\nreflective turn of mind, on his release from prison, to a comrade not yet\nchastened by incarceration. Epicurus praises temperance and fortitude,\nbut only as measures of prudence. He praises justice, but only in so far\nas it enables us to escape harm, and frees us from that dread of\ndiscovery that haunts the steps of the evil-doer. His more specific\nmaxims, do not fall in love with a woman, become the father of a family,\nor, generally, go into politics, smack strongly of the rule of life\nrecommended to Feuillet's hero, Monsieur de Camors, by his worldly-wise\nand cynical father.\n\nContrast with these men the Stoics, whose rule of life was to follow\nNature, and to eschew the pursuit of pleasure. Man's nature, said\nEpictetus, is social; wrongdoing is antisocial; affection is natural.\n[Footnote: _Discourses_, Book I, chapter xxiii--a clever answer to\nEpicurus.] Said Marcus Aurelius, it is characteristic of the rational\nsoul for a man to love his neighbor. The cautious bachelor imbued with\nEpicurean principles would find strange and disconcerting the Stoic\nposition touching citizenship: \"My nature is rational and social; and my\ncity and country, so far as I am Antoninus, is Rome, but so far as I am\na man, it is the world. The things then which are useful to these cities\nare alone useful to me.\" [Footnote: _Thoughts_, Book VI, 44;\ntranslated by GEORGE LONG.]\n\n9. PLATO; ARISTOTLE; THE CHURCH.--No more famous classification of the\nvirtues--those qualities of character which it is desirable for a man to\nhave, and which determine his doing what it is desirable that he should\ndo--has ever been drawn up than that offered us by Plato: Wisdom,\nCourage, Temperance and Justice. [Footnote: For PLATO's account of the\nvirtues see the _Republic_, Book IV, and the _Laws_, Book I.]\nIt is interesting to lay beside it the longer list drawn up by Aristotle,\nand to compare both with that which commended itself to the mind of the\nmediaeval churchman.\n\nWith Aristotle, the virtues are made to include: [Footnote:\n_Ethics_; I refer the reader to the admirable exposition and\ncriticism by SIDGWICK, _History of Ethics_, London, 1896, chapter\nii, Sec 10-12; compare ZELLER, _Aristotle and the Earlier\nPeripatetics_, English translation London, 1897, Volume II, chapter\nxii.]\n\n  Wisdom\n  High-mindedness\n  Justice\n  Ambition\n  Courage\n  Gentleness\n  Temperance\n  Friendliness\n  Liberality\n  Truthfulness\n  Magnificence\n  Decorous Wit\n\nand it is suggested that, although scarcely a virtue, a sense of shame is\nbecoming in youth.\n\nWe find the Christian teachers especially recommending: [Footnote: See\nSIDGWICK'S sympathetic account of the Churchman's view of the virtues,\n_loc_. _cit_., chapter iii.]\n\n  Obedience\n  Patience\n  Benevolence\n  Purity\n  Humility\n  Alienation from the \"World\"\n  Alienation from the \"Flesh\"\n\nand their lists of the \"deadly sins\" they select from the following:\n\n  Pride\n  Arrogance\n  Anger\n  Gluttony\n  Unchastity\n  Envy\n  Vain-Glory\n  Gloominess\n  Languid Indifference.\n\nCould there be a more striking contrast than that between the mediaeval\ncode and those of the great Greek thinkers? Plato recommended as virtues\ncertain general characteristics of character much admired by the Greek of\nhis day. Aristotle accepted them and added to them. He has painted much\nmore in detail the gifts and graces of a well-born and well-situated\nGreek gentleman as he conceived him. The personage would cut a sorry\nfigure in the role of a mediaeval saint; the mediaeval saint would wear a\ntarnished halo if endowed with the Aristotelian virtues.\n\nThe one ideal, the Greek, breathes an air of self-assertion; the other\none of self-abnegation. Benevolence, Purity, Humility and Unworldliness\nare not to be found in the former; Justice, Courage and Veracity appear\nto be missing in the latter. Wisdom, insight, has given place to the\nObedience appropriate to a man clearly conscious of a Law, not man-made,\nto which man feels himself to be subject.\n\nIndeed, the discrepancy between the ideals is such that Aristotle's\nvirtuously high-minded man would have been conceived by the mediaeval\nchurchman to be living in deadly sin, as the very embodiment of pride and\narrogance. We find him portrayed as neither seeking nor avoiding danger,\nfor there are few things about which he cares; as ashamed to accept\nfavors, since that implies inferiority; as sluggish and indifferent\nexcept when stimulated by some great honor to be gained or some great\nwork to be performed; as frank, for this is characteristic of the man who\ndespises others; as admiring little, for nothing is great to him. His\npride prevents him from harboring resentment, from seeking praise, and\nfrom praising others. This Nietzschean hero would attract attention upon\nany stage: \"The step of the high-minded man is slow, his voice deep, and\nhis language stately, for he who feels anxiety about few things is not\napt to be in a hurry; and he who thinks highly of nothing is not\nvehement.\" [Footnote: _Ethics_, Book IV, chapter in, 19, translation\nby R. W. BROWNE, London, 1865.]\n\nTo be sure, virtues not on a given list may be found in, or read into,\nsome of the writings of the man who presents it. It would be absurd to\nmaintain that the mediaeval churchman had no regard for justice, courage\nand veracity, as he would define them, or that Plato and Aristotle were\nwholly deaf to the claims of benevolence. Nevertheless, the variations in\nthe emphasis laid on this virtue or on that, or in the conception of what\nconstitutes this virtue or that, may yield ideals of character and of\nconduct which bear but a slight family resemblance. Imagine St. Francis\nof Assisi lowering his voice, slowing his step, and cultivating \"high-\nmindedness,\" or striving to make himself a pattern of decorous wit.\n\n10. LATER LISTS OF THE VIRTUES.--The codes proposed by the moralists of a\nlater time are numerous and widely scattering. It is impossible to do\njustice to them in any brief compass. A very few instances, selected from\namong those most familiar to English readers, must suffice to indicate\nthe diversity of their nature.\n\nHobbes [Footnote: _Leviathan_, chapter xv.], deeply concerned to\ndiscover some _modus vivendi_ which should put a check upon strife\nbetween man and his fellow-man, and save us from a life \"solitary, poor,\nnasty, brutish and short,\" recommends among other virtues:\n\n  Justice\n  Equity\n  Requital of benefits\n  Sociability\n  A moderate degree of forgiveness\n  The avoidance of pride and arrogance.\n\nLocke [Footnote: _Essay_, Book IV, chapter iii, Sec. 18; _Of Civil\nGovernment_, Book II, chapter ii.], who believes that moral principles\nmust be intuitively evident to one who contemplates the nature of God and\nthe relations of men to Him and to each other, thinks it worth while to\nset down such random maxims as:\n\n  No government allows absolute liberty.\n  Where there is no property there is no injustice.\n  All men are originally equal.\n  Men ought not to harm one another.\n  Parents have a right to control their children.\n\nHume, [Footnote: An Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals, Sec 6,\nPart I] whose two classes of virtues comprise the qualities immediately\nagreeable or useful to ourselves and those immediately agreeable or\nuseful to others, offers us an extended list. He puts into the first\nclass:\n\n  Discretion\n  Caution\n  Enterprise\n  Industry\n  Frugality\n  Economy\n  Good Sense, etc.\n  Temperance\n  Sobriety\n  Patience\n  Perseverance\n  Considerateness\n  Secrecy\n  Order, etc.\n\nIn the second class he includes:\n\n  Benevolence\n  Justice\n  Veracity\n  Fidelity\n  Politeness\n  Wit\n  Modesty\n  Cleanliness.\n\nManifestly, the lists may be indefinitely prolonged. Why not add to the\nfirst class the pachydermatous indifference to rebuffs which is of such\nservice to the social climber, and, to the second, taste in dress and the\nhabit of not repeating stories?\n\nThomas Reid lays stress upon the deliverances of the individual\nconscience, when consulted in a quiet hour. Nevertheless he proposes five\nfundamental maxims: [Footnote: _On the Active Powers of Man_, Essay\nV, chapter i.]\n\n  We ought to exercise a rational self-love, and prefer a greater to a\n    lesser good.\n  We should follow nature, as revealed in the constitution of man.\n  We should exercise benevolence.\n  Right and wrong are the same for all in the same circumstances.\n  We should venerate and obey God.\n\nWith such writers we may contrast the Utilitarians and the adherents of\nthe doctrine of Self-realization, [Footnote: These will be discussed\nbelow, chapters xxv and xxvi.] who lay little stress upon lists of\nvirtues or duties, but aim, respectively, at the greatest happiness of\nthe greatest number, and at the harmonious development of the faculties\nof man, regarding as virtues such qualities of character as make for the\nattainment, in the long run, of the one or the other of these ends.\n\n11. THE STRETCHING OF MORAL CONCEPTS.--The instances given suffice to\nshow that the moralists speak with a variety of tongues. The code of one\nage is apt to seem strange and foreign to the men of another. Even where\nthere is apparent agreement, a closer scrutiny often reveals that it has\nbeen attained by a process of stretching conceptions. Take for example\nthe so-called \"cardinal\" virtues [Footnote: From _cardo_, a hinge.\nThese virtues were supposed to be fundamental. The name given to them was\nfirst used by AMBROSE in the fourth century A.D. See SIDGWICK, _History\nof Ethics_, chap, ii, p. 44.] dwelt upon by Plato. The Stoics, who\nmade use of his list, changed its spirit. Cicero stretches justice so as\nto make it cover a watery benevolence. St. Augustine finds the cardinal\nvirtues to be different aspects of Love to God. The great scholastic\nphilosopher of the thirteenth century, St. Thomas, places in the first\nrank the Christian graces of Faith, Hope and Charity, but still finds it\nconvenient to use the Platonic scheme in ordering a list of the self-\nregarding virtues taken from Aristotle. Thus may the pillars of a pagan\ntemple be utilized as structural units in, or embellishments of, a\nChristian church.\n\nOur own age reveals the same tendency. Thomas Hill Green, the Oxford\nprofessor, follows Plato. But with him we find wisdom stretched to cover\nartistic creation; we see that courage and temperance have taken on new\nfaces; and justice appears to be able to gather under its wings both\nbenevolence and veracity. [Footnote: _Prolegomena to Ethics_, Book\nIII, chapter iii, and Book IV, chapter v.] A still wider divergence from\nthe original understanding of the cardinal virtues is that of Dewey, who\nconceives of them as \"traits essential to all morality.\" He treats, under\ntemperance, of purity and reverence; he makes courage synonymous with\npersistent vigor; he extends justice so as to include love and sympathy;\nhe transforms wisdom into conscientiousness. [Footnote: DEWEY AND TUFTS,\n_Ethics_, pp. 404-423.]\n\nThis variation in the content of moral concepts may be illustrated from\nany quarter in the field of ethics. Cicero's circumspect \"benevolence\"\nadvances the doctrine that \"whatever one can give without suffering loss\nshould be given even to an entire stranger.\" Among such obligations he\nreckons: to prohibit no one from drinking at a stream of running water;\nto permit anyone who wishes to light fire from fire; to give faithful\nadvice to one who is in doubt; which things, as he naively remarks, \"are\nuseful to the receiver and do no harm to the giver.\" [Footnote: De\nOfficiis, Book I, chapter xvi.]\n\nCompare with this the admonition to love one's neighbor as oneself;\nSidgwick's \"self-evident\" proposition that \"I ought not to prefer my own\nlesser good to the greater good of another;\" [Footnote: The Methods of\nEthics, Book III, chapter xiii, Sec 3.] Bentham's utilitarian formula,\n\"everybody to count for one, and nobody for more than one.\" The\nadmonition, \"be benevolent,\" may mean many things.\n\n12. THE REFLECTIVE MIND AND THE MORAL CODES.--Even the cursory glance we\nhave given above to the moral codes of different communities and those\nproposed by individual moralists must suffice to bring any thoughtful man\nto the consciousness that they differ widely among themselves, and that\nthe differences can scarcely be dismissed as insignificant. A little\nreflection will suffice to convince him, furthermore, that to treat all\nother codes as if they were mere pathological variations from his own is\nindefensibly dogmatic.\n\nOn the other hand, the differences between codes should not be unduly\nemphasized. The core of identity is there, and, although in its bald\nabstractness it is not enough to live by, it is vastly significant,\nnevertheless. If there were not some congruity in the materials, they\nwould never be brought together as the subject of one science. Unless\n\"good,\" \"right,\" \"obligation,\" \"approval,\" etc., or the rudimentary\nconceptions which foreshadow them in the mind of the most primitive human\nbeings, had a core of identity which could be traced in societies the\nmost diverse, there would be no significance in speaking of the\nenlightened morality of one people and the degraded and undeveloped\nmorality of another. There could be no history of the development of the\nmoral ideas. Collections of disparate and disconnected facts do not\nconstitute a science, nor are they the proper subject of a history.\n\nAs a matter of fact, we all do speak of degraded moral conceptions, of a\nperverted conscience, of a lofty morality, of a fine sense of duty; we do\nnot hesitate to compare, i. e., to treat as similar and yet dissimilar,\nthe customs, laws and ethical maxims of different ages and of different\nraces. This means that we have in our minds some standard, perhaps\nconsciously formulated, perhaps dimly apprehended, according to which we\nrate them. The unreflective man is in danger of taking as this standard\nhis own actual code, such as it is; of accepting, together with such\nelements of reason as it may contain, the whole mass of his inherited or\nacquired prejudices; the more reflective man will strive to be more\nrationally critical.\n\n\n\n\nPART II\n\nETHICS AS SCIENCE\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nTHE AWAKENING TO REFLECTION\n\n\n 13. THE DOGMATISM OF THE NATURAL MAN.--In morals and in politics it\nseems natural for man to be dogmatic, to take a position without\nhesitation, to defend it vehemently, to maintain that others are in the\nwrong.\n\nThis is not surprising. We are born into a moral environment as into an\nall-embracing atmosphere. From the cradle to the grave, we walk with our\nheads in a cloud of exhortations and prohibitions. From our earliest\nyears we have been urged to make decisions and to act, and we have been\nfurnished with general maxims to guide our action. When, therefore, we\napproach the solution of a moral problem, we do not, as a rule, acutely\nfeel our fitness to solve it, even though we may be judged quite unfit by\nothers.\n\nThis unruffled confidence in one's possession of an adequate supply of\nindubitable moral truth may be found in men who differ widely in their\ndegree of intelligence and in the extent of their information. Some\nindividuals seem born to it. We may come upon it in the ethical\nphilosopher; we may meet it in the man of science, who knows that it has\ntaken him a quarter of a century to fit himself to be an authority in\nmatters chemical or physical, but who wanders in his hours of leisure\ninto the field of ethics and has no hesitation in proposing radical\nreforms. But it is more natural to look for the unwavering confidence\nwhich knows no questionings among persons of restricted outlook, who have\nbeen brought into contact with but one set of opinions. It is\ncharacteristic of the child, of the uncultivated classes in all\ncommunities, of whole communities primitive in their culture and\nrelatively unenlightened.\n\n14. THE AWAKENING.--Manifestly, even the beginnings of ethical science\nare an impossibility where such a spirit prevails. Where there are no\ndoubts, no questionings, there can be no attempt at rational\nconstruction.\n\nFortunately for the cause of human enlightenment there are forces at work\nwhich tend to arouse men from this state of lethargy. Horizons are\nbroadened, new ideas make their appearance, there is a conflict of\nauthorities, the birth of a doubt, and, finally, a more or less\narticulate appeal to Reason.\n\nEven a child is capable of seeing that paternal and maternal injunctions\nand reactions are not wholly alike, and it sets them off against each\nother. Nor have all the children in the home precisely the same nature.\nOne is temperamentally frank and open, but unsympathetic; another is\naffectionate, and prone to lying as the sparks fly upward. The virtues\nand vices are not spontaneously arranged in the same order of importance\nby children, and differences of opinion may arise. Nor does it take the\nchild long to discover that the law of its own home is not identical with\nthat of the house next door. At school the experience is repeated on a\nlarger scale; many homes are represented, and, besides that, two codes of\nlaw claim allegiance, the code of the schoolboy and that of the master.\nThey may be by no means in accord.\n\nAnd when, in college, the student for the first time seriously addresses\nhimself to the task of the study of ethics as science, he comes to it by\nno means wholly unprepared. He has had rather a broad experience of the\ncontrasts which obtain between different codes. He is familiar with the\ncode of the home, of the school, of the social class, of the religious\ncommunity, of the civil community. There sit on the same benches with him\nthe sensitively conscientious student who doubts whether it is a\npermissible deception of one's neighbor to apply a patch to an old\ngarment so skillfully that it will escape detection; the sporting\ncharacter who takes it to be the mutual understanding among men that\ntruth shall not be demanded of those who deal in horses and dogs; the\nyouth from Texas who claims that the French philosopher, Janet, cannot be\nan authority on morals, since he asserts that he who cheats at cards must\nfeel a burning shame. With the ethics of the ancient Hebrews, of the\nGreeks, of the Romans, our young moralist has had the opportunity to\nacquire some familiarity, and he can compare them, if he will, with the\nChristian ethics of his own day. He knows something of history and\nbiography; he has read books of travel, and has some acquaintance with\nthe manners and customs of other peoples. Were he given to reflection, it\nought not to surprise him to find a Portuguese sea-cook maintaining that\nit is wrong to steal, except from the rich; or to learn that a Wahabee\nsaint rated the smoking of tobacco as the worst possible sin next to\nidolatry, while maintaining that murder, robbery, and such like, were\npeccadilloes which a merciful God might properly overlook.\n\nMaterial for reflection he has in abundance--and he often remains\nrelatively dogmatic and unplagued by doubt. But only relatively so; and\nonly so long as the claims of conflicting authorities are not forced upon\nhis attention, rendered importunate in the light of discussion, made so\nfamiliar as to seem real and substantial. It is the tendency of the\nwidening of the horizon to arouse men to reflection, to stimulate to\ncriticism. From such criticism the science of ethics has its birth.\n\nWhat is true of the individual is true of men in the mass. The blind life\nof social classes long laid in chains by custom and tradition may come to\nbe illuminated by new ideas, and passive acquiescence may give way to\nactive participation in social endeavor. Nor can primitive peoples remain\nwholly primitive except in isolation. With the increased intercourse\nbetween races and peoples, men are brought to a clear consciousness that\nthe accepted in morals is manifold and diverse; the next step is to\nquestion whether it is, in any given instance, of unquestionable\nauthority; thus do men become ripe for the search for the\n_acceptable_.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nETHICAL METHOD\n\n\n15. INDUCTIVE AND DEDUCTIVE METHOD.--Professor Henry Sidgwick has defined\na method of ethics as \"any rational procedure by which we determine what\nis right for individual human beings to do, or to seek to realize by\nvoluntary action.\" [Footnote: _The Methods of Ethics_, Book I,\nchapter i, Sec I.]\n\nHe points out that many methods are natural and are habitually used, but\nclaims that only one can be rational. By which he means that the several\nmethods of determining right conduct urged by the different schools of\nthe moralists must be reconciled, or all but one must be rejected.\n[Footnote: _Ibid_., chapter i, Sec  3.]\n\nIn this chapter I shall not discuss in detail the schools of the\nmoralists and the specific methods which characterize them. I am here\nconcerned only with the general distinction between the scientific\nmethods of deduction and induction, and its bearing upon ethical\ninvestigations.\n\nHow do we discover that, in an isosceles triangle, the sides which\nsubtend the equal angles are equal? We do not go about collecting the\nopinions of individuals upon the subject, nor do we consult the records\nof other peoples, past or present. We do not measure a great number of\ntriangles and arrive at our conclusion after a calculation of the\nprobable error of our measurements. The appeal to authorities does not\ninterest us; that measurements are always more or less inaccurate, and\nthat all actual triangles are more or less irregular, we freely admit,\nbut we do not regard such facts as significant. We use a single triangle\nas an illustration, and from what is given in, or along with, that\nindividual instance, we deduce certain consequences in which we have the\nhighest confidence. Here we follow the method of deduction. We accept a\n\"given,\" with its validity we do not concern ourselves; our aim is the\ndiscovery of what may be gotten out of it.\n\nIn the inductive sciences the individual instance has an importance of\nquite a different sort. It is not a mere illustration, unequivocally\nembodying a general truth to which we may appeal directly, treating the\ninstance as a mere vehicle, in itself of little significance. Individual\ninstances are observed and compared; uniformities are searched for; it is\nsought to establish general truths, not directly evident, but whose\nauthority rests upon the particular facts that have been observed and\nclassified.\n\nIt is a commonplace of logic that both induction and deduction may be\nemployed in many fields of science. We may attain by inductive inquiry to\nmore or less general truths, which we no longer care to call in question,\nand which we accept as a \"given,\" to be exploited and carried out in its\nconsequences. Indeed, we need not betake ourselves to science to have an\nillustration of this method of procedure. In everyday life men have\nmaxims by which they judge of the probable actions of their fellow-men\nand in the light of which they direct their dealings with them. Such\nmaxims as that men may be counted upon to consult their own interests\nhave certainly not been adopted independently of an experience of what,\non particular occasions, men have shown themselves to be. But, once\nadopted, they may be treated as, for practical purposes, unquestionable;\nmen are concerned to apply them, not to substantiate them. In so far, men\nreason from them deductively and pass from the general rule to the\nparticular instance.\n\n16. THE AUTHORITY OF THE \"GIVEN.\"--Obviously the \"given,\" in the sense\nindicated, may possess, in certain cases, a very high degree of\nauthority, and, in others, a very low degree.\n\nIn the case of the mathematical truth referred to above, men do not, in\nfact, find it necessary to call in question the \"given,\" though they may\nbe divided in their notions touching the general nature of mathematical\nevidence and whence it draws its apparently indisputable authority. In\ncertain of the inductive sciences, as in mechanics, physics and\nchemistry, generalizations have been attained in which even the critical\nrepose much confidence. In other fields men are constantly making general\nstatements which are promptly contradicted by their fellows, and are\ndrawing from them inferences the justice of which is in many quarters\ndisallowed. There are axioms and axioms, maxims and maxims. The\nconfidence felt by a given individual in a particular \"given\" does not\nguarantee its acceptance by all men of equal intelligence. Where,\nhowever, the evidence upon which a disputed \"given\" is based is\nforthcoming, there is, at least, ground for rational discussion.\n\nNot a few famous writers have treated moral truths as analogous to\nmathematical. [Footnote: See the chapter on \"Intuitionism,\" Sec 90, note.]\nTo take here a single instance. Sidgwick, in his truly admirable work on\n\"The Methods of Ethics,\" maintains [Footnote: Book III, chapter xiii, Sec\n3.] that \"the propositions, 'I ought not to prefer a present lesser good\nto a future greater good,' and 'I ought not to prefer my own lesser good\nto the greater good of another,' do present themselves as self-evident;\nas much (_e.g._) as the mathematical axiom that 'if equals be added\nto equals the wholes are equals.'\"\n\nBut it is one thing to claim that we are in possession of a \"given\" with\nultimate and indisputable authority; it is another to convince men that\nwe really do possess it. Locke's efforts at deduction fall lamentably\nshort of the model set by Euclid. \"Professor Sidgwick's well-known moral\naxiom, 'I ought not to prefer my own lesser good to the greater good of\nanother,' would,\" writes Westermarck, [Footnote: _Op_. _cit.,_\nVolume I, chapter i, p. 12.] \"if explained to a Fuegian or a Hottentot,\nbe regarded by him, not as self-evident, but as simply absurd; nor can it\nclaim general acceptance even among ourselves. Who is that 'Another' to\nwhose greater good I ought not to prefer my own lesser good? A fellow-\ncountryman, a savage, a criminal, a bird, a fish--all without\ndistinction?\" To Bentham's \"everybody to count for one and nobody for\nmore than one\" may be opposed Hartley's preference of benevolent and\nreligious persons to the rest of mankind. [Footnote: _Observations on\nMan_, Part II, chapter iii, 6.]\n\nThe fact that men eminent for their intellectual ability and for the\nbreadth of their information are, in morals, inclined to accept, as\nultimate, principles not identical, and thus to found different schools,\nwould seem to indicate that, to one who aims at treating ethics as a\nscience, principles, as well as the deductions from them, should be\nobjects of closest scrutiny. They should not be taken for granted. The\nhistory of ethical theory appears to make it clear that the \"given\" of\nthe moralist is not of the same nature as that of the geometer.\n\nThe ethical philosopher cannot, hence, confine himself to developing\ndeductively the implications of some principle or principles assumed\nwithout critical examination. He must establish the validity even of his\nprinciples. This we should bear in mind when we approach the study of the\ndifferent ethical schools.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nTHE MATERIALS OF ETHICS\n\n\n17. HOW THE MORALIST SHOULD PROCEED.--The above reflections on method\nsuggest the materials of which the moralist should avail himself in\nrearing the edifice of his science.\n\n(1) Evidently he should reflect upon the moral judgments which he finds\nin himself, the moral being with whom he is best acquainted. He should\nendeavor to render consistent and luminous moral judgments which, as he\nfinds, have too often been inconsistent and more or less blind.\n\n(2) He should take cognizance of his own setting--of the social\nconscience embodied in the community in which he lives.\n\n(3) And since, as we have seen, the significance, either of the\nindividual conscience, or of the social conscience revealed in custom,\nlaw and public opinion, can hardly become apparent to one who does not\nbring within his horizon many consciences individual and social, he\nshould enlarge his view so as to include such. The moralists, in our day,\nshow an increasing tendency to pay serious attention to this mass of\nmaterials. They do not confine their attention to the moral standard\nwhich this man or that has accepted as authoritative for him, nor to that\naccepted as authoritative in a given community. They study _man_--\nman in all stages of his development and in material and social settings\nthe most diverse.\n\n(4) Nor should the student of ethics overlook the work which has been\ndone by those moralists who have gone before him. He who has studied\ndescriptive anatomy is aware of the immense service which has been done\nhim by the unwearied observations of his predecessors; observations which\nhave been put on record, and which draw his attention to numberless\ndetails of structure that would, without such aid, certainly escape his\nattention. Ethics is an ancient discipline. It has fixed the attention of\nacute minds for many centuries. He who approaches the subject naively,\nwithout an acquaintance with the many ethical theories which have been\nadvanced and the acute criticisms to which they have been subjected, will\nalmost certainly say what someone has said before, and said, perhaps,\nmuch better. The valor of ignorance will involve him in ignominious\ndefeat.\n\n(5) It is evident that the moralist must make use of materials offered\nhim by workers in many other fields of science. The biologist may have\nvaluable suggestions to make touching the impulses and instincts of man.\nThe psychologist treats of the same, and exhibits the work of the\nintellect in ordering and organizing the impulses. He studies the\nphenomena of desire, will, habit, the formation of character. The\nanthropologist and the sociologist are concerned with the codes of\ncommunities and with the laws of social development. The fields of\neconomics, politics and comparative jurisprudence obviously march with\nthat cultivated by the student of ethics.\n\n18. THE PHILOSOPHER AS MORALIST.--In all these sciences at once it is not\npossible for the moralist to be an adept. The mass of the material they\nfurnish is so vast that the ethical writer who starts out to master it in\nall its details may well dread that he may be overcome by senility before\nhe is ready to undertake the formulation of an ethical theory.\n\nIt does not follow, however, that he should leave to those who occupy\nthemselves professionally with any of these fields the task of framing a\ntheory of morals. He must have sufficient information to be able to\nselect with intelligence what has some important bearing upon the problem\nof conduct, but there are many details into which he need not go. It is\nwell to note the following points:\n\n(1) A multitude of details may be illustrative of a comparatively small\nnumber of general principles. It is with these general principles that\nthe moralist is concerned. The anthropologist may regard it as his duty\nto spend much labor in the attempt to discover why this or that act, this\nor that article of food, happens in a given community to be taboo to\ncertain persons. The student of ethics is not bound to take up the\ndetailed investigation of such matters. Human nature, in its general\nconstitution, is much the same in different races and peoples. The\ninfluence of environment is everywhere apparent. There are significant\nuniformities to be discovered even by one who has a limited amount of\ndetailed information. \"Those who come after us will see nothing new,\"\nsaid Antoninus, \"nor have those before us seen anything more, but in a\nmanner he who is forty years old; if he has any understanding at all, has\nseen by virtue of the uniformity which prevails all things which have\nbeen and all that will be.\" [Footnote: _Thoughts_, XI, 1. London,\n1891, translated by GEORGE LONG.] Which is, to be sure, an overstatement\nof the case, but one containing a germ of truth.\n\n(2) We find, by looking into their books, that men most intimately\nacquainted with the facts of the moral life as revealed in different\nraces and peoples may differ widely in the ethical doctrine which they\nare inclined to base upon them. Not all men, even when endowed with no\nlittle learning, are gifted with the clearness of vision which can detect\nthe significance of given facts; nor are all equally capable of weaving\nrelevant facts into a consistent and reasonable theory. The keenness and\nthe constructive genius of the individual count for much. And breadth of\nview counts for much also. We have seen that ethics touches many fields\nof investigation, and the philosopher is supposed, at least, to let his\nvision range over a broad realm, and to grasp the relations of the\ndifferent sciences to each other. He is, moreover, supposed to be trained\nin reflective analysis, and of this ethical theory appears to stand in no\nlittle need.\n\n(3) Finally, the mere fact that ethics has for so many centuries been\nregarded as one of the disciplines falling within the domain of the\nphilosopher is not without its significance. One may deplore the tendency\nto base ethics upon this or that metaphysical doctrine, and desire to see\nit made an independent science; and yet one may be compelled to admit\nthat it is not easy to comprehend and to estimate the value of many of\nthe ethical theories which have been evolved in the past, without having\nrather an intimate acquaintance with the history of philosophy. The\nethical teachings of Plato, of Aristotle, of St. Thomas, of Kant, of\nHegel, of Green, lose much of their meaning when taken out of their\nsetting. The history of ethical theory is blind when divorced from the\nhistory of philosophy, and with the history of ethical theory the\nmoralist should be acquainted.\n\nThe philosopher has no prescriptive right to preempt the field of ethics.\nMany men may cultivate it with profit. Nevertheless, he, too, should\ncultivate it, not independently and with a disregard of what has been\ndone by others, but in a spirit of hearty cooperation, thankfully\naccepting such help as is offered him by his neighbors.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nTHE AIM OF ETHICS AS SCIENCE\n\n\n19. THE APPEAL TO REASON.--The proper aim of the scientific study of\nethics appears to be suggested with sufficient clearness by what has been\nsaid in the chapters on the accepted content of morals.\n\nWhere individuals take up unreflectively the maxims which are to control\ntheir conduct, human life can scarcely be said to be under the guidance\nof reason. Where, moreover, the codes of individuals clash with each\nother or with the social conscience of their community, and where the\ncodes of different communities are disconcertingly diverse, planful\nconcerted action with a view to the control of conduct appears to be\nimpracticable. Historical accident, blind impulse and caprice, cannot\nserve as guides for a rational creature seeking to live, along with\nothers, a rational life.\n\n\"The aim of ethics,\" says Sidgwick, [Footnote: _The Methods of\nEthics_, Book I, chapter vi, Sec 1.] \"is to render scientific--i.e.,\ntrue, and as far as possible systematic--the apparent cognitions that\nmost men have of the rightness or reasonableness of conduct, whether the\nconduct be considered as right in itself, or as the means to some end\nconceived as ultimately reasonable.\" The use here of the word\n\"cognitions\" calls our attention to the fact that, when men say, \"this is\nright, that is wrong,\" they mean no more than, \"this I like, that I do\nnot like\"; and the use of the word \"apparent\" indicates that the\njudgments expressed may be approved by the man who makes them, and yet be\nerroneous. The appeal is to an objective standard; there is a demand for\nproof.\n\nThat most men recognize, in some cases dimly, in some cases clearly and\nexplicitly, that the appeal to such a standard is justifiable, can\nscarcely be denied. Between \"I choose\" and \"I ought to choose,\" between\n\"the community demands,\" and \"the community ought to demand,\" men\ngenerally recognize a distinction when they have attained to a capacity\nfor reflection.\n\nIt has, however, been denied that the appeal is justifiable, and denied\nby no mean authority. \"The presumed objectivity of moral judgments,\"\nwrites Westermarck, [Footnote: 2 _The Origin and Development of the\nMoral Ideas_, chapter i, p. 17.] \"being a chimera, there can be no\nmoral truth in the sense in which this term is generally understood. The\nultimate reason for this is, that the moral concepts are based upon\nemotions, and that the contents of an emotion fall entirely outside the\ncategory of truth. But it may be true or not that we have a certain\nemotion, it may be true or not that a given mode of conduct has a\ntendency to evoke in us moral indignation or moral approval. Hence a\nmoral judgment is true or false according as its subject has or has not\nthat tendency which the predicate attributes to it. If I say that it is\nwrong to resist evil, and yet resistance to evil has no tendency whatever\nto call forth in me an emotion of moral disapproval, then my judgment is\nfalse.\" The conclusion drawn from this is that there are no general moral\ntruths, and that \"the object of scientific ethics cannot be to fix rules\nfor human conduct\"; it can only be \"to study the moral consciousness as a\nfact.\"\n\n20. THE APPEAL TO REASON JUSTIFIED.--The words of so high an authority\nshould not be passed over lightly. One is impelled to seek for their\nproper appreciation and their reconciliation with the judgment of other\nmoralists. Such can be found, I think, by turning to two truths dwelt\nupon in what has preceded: the truth that the moralist should not assume\nthat he is possessed of a \"given\" analogous to that of the geometer--a\nstandard in no need of criticism; and the equally important truth that\nthe moralist cannot hope to frame a code which will simply replace the\ncodes of individual communities and will prescribe the details of human\nconduct while ignoring such codes altogether.\n\nBut it does not seem to follow that, because the moralist may not set up\nan arbitrary code of this sort, he is also forbidden to criticize and\ncompare moral judgments, to arrange existing codes in a certain order as\nlower and higher, to frame some notion of what constitutes progress. He\nmay hold before himself, in outline, at least, an ideal of conduct, and\nnot one taken up arbitrarily but based upon the phenomena of the moral\nconsciousness as he has observed them. And in the light of this ideal he\nmay judge of conduct; his appeal is to an objective standard.\n\nThus, he who says that it is false that it is right to reduce to slavery\nprisoners taken in war may, if he be sufficiently unreflective, have no\nbetter reason for his judgment than a feeling of repugnance to such\nconduct. But, if he has risen to the point of taking broad views of men\nand their moral codes, he may very well assert the falsity of the\nstatement even when he feels no personal repugnance to the holding of\ncertain persons as slaves. His appeal is, in fact, to such a standard as\nis above indicated, and his condemnation of certain forms of conduct is\nbased upon their incompatibility with it.\n\nHence, a man may significantly assert that certain conduct is objectively\ndesirable, although it may not be desired by himself or by his community.\nHe may judge a thing to be wrong without _feeling_ it to be wrong.\nWhether anything would actually be judged to be wrong, if no one ever had\nany emotions, is a different question. With it we may class the question\nwhether anything would be judged to be wrong if no one were possessed of\neven a spark of reason. There is small choice between having nothing to\nsee and not being able to see anything. [Footnote: That, in the citation\nabove given, WESTERMARCK'S attention was concentrated upon the extreme\nposition taken by some moralists touching the function of the reason in\nmoral judgments seems to me evident. He is far too able an observer to\noverlook the significance of the diversity of moral codes and the meaning\nof progress. He writes: \"Though rooted in the emotional side of our\nnature, our moral opinions are in a large measure amenable to reason. Now\nin every society the traditional notions as to what is good or bad,\nobligatory or indifferent, are commonly accepted by the majority of\npeople without further reflection. By tracing them to their source it\nwill be found that not a few of these notions have their origin in\nsentimental likings and antipathies, to which a scrutinizing and\nenlightened judge can attach little importance; whilst, on the other\nhand, he must account blamable many an act and omission which public\nopinion, out of thoughtlessness, treats with indifference.\" Vol. I, pp.\n2-3. See also his appeals to reason where it is a question of the\nattitude of the community toward legal responsibility on the part of the\nyoung, toward drunkenness, and toward the heedless production of\noffspring doomed to misery and disease, pp. 269 and 310.]\n\nAn appeal, thus, from the actual to the ideal appears to be possible.\nAnd, since the natural man, unenlightened and unreflective, is not more\ninclined to show himself to be a reasonable being in the sphere of morals\nthan elsewhere, it seems that there is no little need of ethical science.\nIts aim is to bring about the needed enlightenment. Its value can only be\nlogically denied by those who maintain seriously that it is easy to know\nwhat it is right to do. Do men really hold this, if they are thoughtful?\n\n\n\n\nPART III\n\nMAN AND HIS ENVIRONMENT\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nMAN'S NATURE\n\n\n21. THE BACKGROUND OF ACTIONS.--In estimating human actions we take into\nconsideration both the doer and the circumstances under which the deed\nwas done. Actions may be desirable or undesirable, good or bad, according\nto their setting. How shall we judge of the blow that takes away human\nlife? It may be the involuntary reaction of a man startled by a shock; it\nmay be a motion of justifiable self-defence; it may be one struck at the\ncommand of a superior and in the defence of one's country; it may be the\nhorrid outcome of cruel rapacity or base malevolence.\n\nNor are the emotions, torn out of their context, more significant than\nactions without a background. They are mental phenomena to be observed\nand described by the psychologist; to the moralist they are, taken alone,\nas unmeaning as the letters of the alphabet, but, like them, capable in\ncombination of carrying many meanings. Anger, fear, wonder, and all the\nrest are, as natural emotions, neither good nor bad; they are colors,\nwhich may enter into a picture and in it acquire various values.\n\nIn morals, when men have attained to the stage of enlightenment at which\nmoral estimation is a possible process, they always consider emotions,\nintentions, and actions in the light of their background. We do not\ndemand a moral life of the brutes; we do not look for it in the\nintellectually defective and the emotionally insane; nor do we expect a\nsavage caught in the bush to harbor the same emotions, or to have the\nsame ethical outlook, as the missionary with whom we may confront him.\nThe concepts of moral responsibility, of desert, of guilt, are emptied of\nall significance, when we lose sight of the nature, inborn or acquired,\nof the creature haled before the bar of our judgment, and of the\nenvironment, which on the one hand, impels him to action, and, on the\nother, furnishes the stage upon which the drama of his life must be\nplayed out to the end.\n\nHence, he who would not act as the creature of blind impulse or as the\nunthinking slave of tradition, but would exercise a conscious and\nintelligent control over his conduct, seems compelled to look at his life\nand its setting in a broad way, to scrutinize with care both the nature\nof man and the environment without which that nature could find no\nexpression. When he does this, he only does more intelligently what men\ngenerally do instinctively and somewhat at haphazard. He seeks a rational\nestimate of the significance of conduct, and a standard by which it may\nbe measured.\n\n22. MAN'S NATURE.--Moralists ancient and modern have had a good deal to\nsay about the nature of man. To some of them it has seemed rather a\nsimple thing to describe it. Its constitution, as they have conceived it,\nhas furnished them with certain principles which should guide human\naction. Aristotle, who assumed that every man seeks his own good,\nconceived of his good or \"well-being\" as largely identical with \"well-\ndoing.\" This \"well-doing\" meant to him \"fulfilling the proper functions\nof man,\" or in other words acting as the nature of man prescribes.\n[Footnote: _Politics_, i, 2. See, further, on _Man's Nature_,\nchapter xxvi.] To the Stoic man's duty was action in accordance with his\nnature. [Footnote: MARCUS AURELIUS, _Thoughts_, v, 1.] Butler,\n[Footnote: _Sermons on Human Nature_, ii] many centuries later,\nfound in man's nature a certain \"constitution,\" with conscience naturally\nsupreme and the passions in a position of subordination. This\n\"constitution\" plainly indicated to him the conduct appropriate to a\nhuman being.\n\nSuch appeals to man's nature we are apt to listen to with a good deal of\nsympathy. Manifestly, man differs from the brutes, and they differ, in\ntheir kind, from each other. To each kind, a life of a certain sort seems\nappropriate. The rational being is expected to act rationally, to some\ndegree, at least. In our dealings with creatures on a lower plane, we\npitch our expectations much lower.\n\nAnd the behavior we expect from each is that appropriate to its kind. The\nbee and the ant follow unswervingly their own law, and live their own\ncomplicated community life. However the behavior of the brute may vary in\nthe presence of varying conditions, the degree of the variation seems to\nbe determined by rather narrow limits. These we recognize as the limits\nof the nature of the creature. It dictates to itself, unconsciously, its\nown law of action, and it follows that law simply and without revolt.\n\nWhen we turn to man, \"the crown and glory of the universe,\" as Darwin\ncalls him, we find him, too, endowed with a certain nature in an\nanalogous sense of the word. He has capacities for which we look in vain\nelsewhere. The type of conduct we expect of him has its root in these\ncapacities. Human nature can definitely be expected to express itself in\na human life,--one lower or higher, but, in every case, distinguishable\nfrom the life of the brute. It means something to speak of the physical\nand mental constitution of man, that mysterious reservoir from which his\nemotions and actions are supposed to flow. We feel that we have a right\nto use the expression, even while admitting that the brain of man is, as\nfar as psychology is concerned, almost unexplored territory, and that the\nrelation of mind to brain is, and is long likely to remain, a subject of\ndispute with philosophers and psychologists.\n\n23. HOW DISCOVER MAN'S NATURE?--Nevertheless, in speaking of the nature\nof any living creature, we are forced to remind ourselves that the\noriginal endowment of the creature studied can never be isolated and\nsubjected to inspection independently of the setting in which the subject\nof our study is found. Who, by an examination of the brain of a bee or of\nan ant, could foresee the intricate organized industry of the hive or the\nanthill? The seven ages of man are not stored ready-made in the little\nbody of the infant. At any rate, they are beyond the reach of the most\npenetrating vision. In the case of the simple mechanisms which can be\nconstructed by man a forecast of future function is possible on the basis\nof a general knowledge of mechanics. But there is no living being of\nwhose internal constitution we have a similar knowledge. From the\nbehavior of the creature we gather a knowledge of its nature; we do not\nstart with its nature as directly revealed and infer its behavior. That\nthere are differences in the internal constitution of beings which react\nto the same environment in different ways, we have every reason to\nbelieve. What those differences are in detail we cannot know. And our\nknowledge of the capacities inherent in this or that constitution will be\nlimited by what we can observe of its reaction to environment.\n\nSometimes the reaction to environment is relatively simple and uniform.\nIn this case we feel that we can attain without great difficulty to what\nmay be regarded as a satisfactory knowledge of the nature of the creature\nstudied. The conception of that nature appears to be rather definite and\nunequivocal. When it is once attained, we speak with some assurance of\nthe way in which the creature will act in this situation or in that. If,\nhowever, the capacities are vastly more ample, and the environment to\nwhich this creature is adjusted is greatly extended, the difficulty of\ndescribing in any unequivocal way the nature of the creature becomes\nindefinitely greater.\n\nIs it possible to contemplate man without being struck with the breadth\nand depth of the gulf which separates the primitive human being from the\nfinished product of civilization? What a difference in range of emotion,\nin reach of intellect, in stored information, in freedom of action,\nbetween man at his lowest and man at his highest! Can we describe in the\nsame terms what is natural to man everywhere and always?\n\nFor the filthy and ignorant savage, absorbed in satisfying his immediate\nbodily needs, standing in the simplest of social relations, taking\nliterally no thought for the morrow, profoundly ignorant of the world in\nwhich he finds himself, possessing over nature no control worthy of the\nname, the sport and slave of his environment, it is natural to act in one\nway. For enlightened humanity, acquainted with the past and forecasting\nthe future, developed in intellect and refined in feeling, rich in the\npossession of arts and sciences, intelligently controlling and directing\nthe forces of nature, socially organized in highly complicated ways, it\nis natural to act in another way. And to each of the intermediate stages\nin the evolution of civilization some type of conduct appears to be\nappropriate and natural.\n\nWhither, then, shall we turn for our conception of man's nature? Shall we\nmerely draw up a list of the instincts and impulses which may be\nobservable in all men? Shall we say no more than that man is gifted with\nan intelligence superior to that of the brutes? To do this is, to be\nsure, to give some vague indication of man's original endowment. But it\ncan give us little indication of what it is possible for man, with such\nan endowment, and in such an environment as makes his setting, to become.\nAnd what man becomes, that he is.\n\nIf man's nature can be revealed only through the development of his\ncapacities, it is futile to seek it in a return to undeveloped man. The\nnature of the chicken is not best revealed in the egg. And, as man can\ndevelop only in interaction with his environment, we must, to understand\nhim, study his environment also.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nMAN'S MATERIAL ENVIRONMENT\n\n\n24. THE STRUGGLE WITH NATURE.--It is not possible to disentangle from\neach other and to consider quite separately the diverse elements which\nenter into the environment of man and which influence his development.\nHis environment is two-fold, material and social; but his material\nsetting may affect his social relations, and it is social man, not the\nindividual as such, that achieves a conquest over nature. However, it is\npossible, and it is convenient, to direct attention successively upon the\none and the other aspect of his environment.\n\nAt every stage of his development, man must have food, shelter, some\nmeans of defense. If they are not easily obtainable, he must strain every\nnerve to attain them. Are his powers feeble and his intelligence\nundeveloped, it may tax all his efforts to keep himself alive and to\ncontinue the race in any fashion. The rules which determine his conduct\nseem rather the dictates of a stern necessity than the products of\nanything resembling free choice.\n\nHe who is lashed by hunger and haunted by fear, who cannot provide for\nthe remote future, but must accept good or ill fortune as the accident of\nthe day precipitates his lot upon him, lives and must live a life at but\none remove from that of the brute. In such a life the instincts of man\nattain to a certain expression, but intelligence plays a feeble part. The\nman remains a slave, under dictation, and moved by the dread of immediate\ndisaster. For an interest in what is remote in time and place, for the\nextension of knowledge for its own sake, for the development of\nactivities which have no direct bearing upon the problem of keeping him\nalive and fed, there can be little place. One must be assured that one\ncan live, and live in reasonable security and physical well-being, before\nthe problem of enriching and embellishing life can fairly present itself\nas an important problem. One must be set free before one can deliberately\nset out to shape one's life after an ideal.\n\nNot that a severe struggle with physical nature is necessarily and of\nitself a curse. It may call out man's powers, stimulate to action, and\nresult in growth and development. Where a prodigal nature amply provides\nfor man's bodily necessities without much effort on his part, the result\nmay be, in the absence of other stimulating influences giving rise to new\nwants, a paralyzing slothfulness, an animal passivity and content. This\nmay be observed in whole peoples highly favored by soil and climate, and\nprotected by their situation from external dangers. It may be observed in\ncertain favored classes even in communities which, by long and strenuous\neffort, have conquered nature and raised themselves high in the scale of\ncivilization. The idle sons of the rich, relieved from the spur of\nnecessity, may undergo the degeneration appropriate to parasitic life. In\nthe midst of a strenuous activity adapted to call out the best\nintellectual and moral powers of man, they may remain unaffected by it,\nincapable of effort, unintelligent, slothful, the weak and passive\nrecipients of what is brought to them by the labor of others.\n\nBut the struggle with physical nature, sometimes a spur to progress and\nissuing in triumph, may also issue in defeat. Nature may be too strong\nfor man, or, at least, for man at an early stage of his development. She\nmay thwart his efforts and dwarf his life. It was through no accident\nthat the Athenian state rose and flourished upon the shores of the\nAegean; no such efflorescence of civilization could be looked for among\nthe Esquimaux of the frozen North.\n\n25. THE CONQUESTS OF THE MIND.--Physical environment counts for much, but\nthe physical environment of man is the same as that of the creatures\nbelow him who seem incapable of progress. It is as an intelligent being\nthat he succeeds in bringing about ever new and more complicated\nadjustments to his environment.\n\nFrom the point of view of his animal life in many respects inferior to\nother creatures--less strong, less swift, less adequately provided with\nnatural means of defense, less protected by nature against cold, heat and\nthe inclemencies of the weather, endowed with instincts less unerring,\nless prolific, through a long period of infancy helpless and dependent--\nman nevertheless survives and prospers.\n\nHe has conquered the strong, overtaken the swift, called upon his\ningenuity to furnish him with means of defence. He has defied cold and\nheat, and we find him, with appliances of his own devising, successfully\ncombating the rigors of Arctic frosts and the torrid sun of the tropics.\nIntelligence has supplemented instinct and has guaranteed the survival of\nthe individual and of the race.\n\nIt has even protected man against himself, against the very dangers\narising out of his immunity from other dangers. A gregarious creature,\nincreasing and multiplying, he would be threatened with starvation did\nnot his intelligent control over nature furnish him with a food-supply\nwhich makes it possible for vast numbers of human beings to live and\nthrive on a territory of limited extent. Moreover, he has compassed those\ncomplicated forms of social organization which reveal themselves in\ncities and states, solving problems of production, transportation and\ndistribution before which undeveloped man would stand helpless.\n\nAnd from the problem of living at all he has passed to that of living\nwell. He has created new wants and has satisfied them. He has built up\nfor himself a rich and diversified life, many of the activities of which\nappear to have the remotest of bearings upon the mere struggle for\nexistence, but the exercise of which gives him satisfaction. Thus, the\nprimitive instinct of curiosity, once relatively aimless and\ninsignificant, has developed into the passion for systematic knowledge\nand the persistent search for truth; the rudimentary aesthetic feeling\nwhich is revealed in primitive man, and traces of which are recognizable\nin creatures far lower in the scale, has blossomed out in those elaborate\ncreations, which, at an enormous expense of labor and ingenuity, have\ncome to enrich the domains of literature, music, painting, sculpture,\narchitecture. Civilized man is to a great extent occupied with the\nproduction of what he does not need, if need be measured by what his\nwants are at a lower stage of his development. But these same things he\nneeds imperatively, if we measure his need by his desires when they have\nbeen multiplied and their scope indefinitely widened.\n\n26. THE CONQUEST OF NATURE AND THE WELL-BEING OF MAN.--It is evident that\nthe successful exploitation of the resources of material nature is of\nenormous significance to the life of man. It may bring emancipation; it\noffers opportunity. One is tempted to affirm, without stopping to\nreflect, that the development of the arts and sciences, the increase of\nwealth and of knowledge, must in the nature of things increase human\nhappiness.\n\nOne is tempted, further, to maintain that an advance in civilization must\nimply an advance in moralization. Man has a moral nature which exhibits\nitself to some degree at every stage of his development. What more\nnatural to conclude than that, with the progressive unfolding of his\nintelligence, with increase in knowledge, with some relaxation of the\nstruggle for existence which pits man against his fellow-man, and\nsubordinates all other considerations to the inexorable law of self-\npreservation, his moral nature would have the opportunity to show itself\nin a fuller measure?\n\nWhen we compare man at his very lowest with man at his highest such\njudgments appear to be justified. But man is to be found at all sorts of\nintermediate stages.\n\nHis knowledge may be limited, the development of the arts not far\nadvanced, his control over nature far from complete, and yet he may live\nin comparative security and with such wants as he has reasonably well\nsatisfied. His competition with his fellows may not be bitter and\nabsorbing. The simple life is not necessarily an unhappy life, if the\nsimplicity which characterizes it be not too extreme. In judging broadly\nof the significance for human life of the control over nature which is\nimplied in the advance of civilization, one must take into consideration\nseveral points of capital importance:\n\n(1) The multiplication of man's wants results, not in happiness, but in\nunhappiness, unless the satisfaction of those wants can be adequately\nprovided for.\n\n(2) The effort to satisfy the new wants which have been called into being\nmay be accompanied by an enormous expenditure of effort. Where the effort\nis excessive man becomes again the slave of his environment. His task is\nset for him, and he fulfills it under the lash of an imperious necessity.\nThe higher standard may become as inexorable a task-master as was the\nlower.\n\n(3) It does not follow that, because a given community is set free from\nthe bondage of the daily anxiety touching the problem of living at all,\nand may address itself deliberately to the problem of living well, it\nwill necessarily take up into its ideal of what constitutes living well\nall those goods upon which developed man is apt to set a value. A\ncivilization may be a grossly material one, even when endowed with no\nlittle wealth. With wealth comes the opportunity for the development of\nthe arts which embellish life, but that opportunity may not be embraced.\nMan may be materially rich and spiritually poor; he may allow some of his\nfaculties to lie dormant, and may lose the enjoyments which would have\nbeen his had they been developed. The Athenian citizen two millenniums\nago had no such mastery over the forces of nature as we possess today.\nNevertheless, he was enabled to live a many-sided life beside which the\nlife of the modern man may appear poor and bare. It is by no means self-\nevident that the good of man consists in the multitude of the material\nthings which he can compel to his service.\n\n(4) Moreover, it does not follow that, because the sum of man's\nactivities, his behavior, broadly taken, is vastly altered, by an\nincrease in his control over his material environment, the result is an\nadvance in moralization. An advance in civilization--in knowledge, in the\ncontrol over nature's resources, in the evolution of the industrial and\neven of the fine arts--does not necessarily imply a corresponding ethical\nadvance on the part of a given community. New conditions, brought about\nby an increase of knowledge, of wealth, of power, may result in ethical\ndegeneration.\n\nWhat constitutes the moral in human behavior, what marks out right or\nwrong conduct from conduct ethically indifferent, we have not yet\nconsidered. But no man is wholly without information in the field of\nmorals, and we may here fall back upon such conceptions as men generally\npossess before they have evolved a science of morals. In the light of\nsuch conceptions a simple and comparatively undeveloped culture may\ncompare very favorably with one much higher in the scale of civilization.\n\nIn the simplest groups of human beings, justice, veracity and a regard to\ncommon good may be conspicuous; the claim of each man upon his fellow-man\nmay be generally acknowledged. In communities more advanced, the growth\nof class distinctions and the inequalities due to the amassing of wealth\non the part of individuals may go far to nullify the advantage to the\nindividual of any advance made by the community as a whole. The social\nbonds which have obtained between members of the same group may be\nrelaxed; the devotion to the common good may be replaced by the selfish\ncalculation of profit to the individual; the exploitation of man by his\nfellow-man may be accepted as natural and normal. It is not without its\nsignificance that the most highly civilized of states have, under the\npressure of economic advance, come to adopt the institution of slavery in\nits most degraded forms; that the problem of property and poverty may\npresent itself as most pressing and most difficult of solution where\nnational wealth has grown to enormous proportions. The body politic may\nbe most prosperous from a material point of view, and at the same time,\nconsidered from the point of view of the moralist, thoroughly rotten in\nits constitution.\n\nIt is well to remember that, even in the most advanced of modern\ncivilizations, whatever the degree of enlightenment and the power enjoyed\nby the community as a whole, it is quite possible for the individual to\nbe condemned to a life little different in essentials from that of the\nlowest savage. He whose feverish existence is devoted to the nerve-\nracking occupation of gambling in stocks, who goes to his bed at night\nscheming how he may with impunity exploit his fellow-man, and who rises\nin the morning with a strained consciousness of possible fluctuations in\nthe market which may overwhelm him in irretrievable disaster, lives in\nperils which easily bear comparison with those which threaten the\nprecarious existence of primitive man. To masses of men in civilized\ncommunities the problem of the food supply is all-absorbing, and may\nexclude all other and broader interests. The factory-worker, with a mind\nstupefied by the mechanical repetition of some few simple physical\nmovements of no possible interest to him except as resulting in the wage\nthat keeps him alive, has no share in such light as may be scattered\nabout him.\n\nThe control of the forces of nature brings about great changes in human\nsocieties, but it may leave the individual, whether rich or poor, a prey\nto dangers and anxieties, engaged in an unequal combat with his\nenvironment, absorbed in the satisfaction of material needs, undeveloped,\nunreflective and most restricted in his outlook. Of emancipation there\ncan here be no question.\n\nAnd a civilization in which the control of the forces of nature has been\ncarried to the highest pitch of development may furnish a background to\nthe darkest of passions. It may serve as a stage upon which callous\nindifference, greed, rapacity, gross sensuality, play their parts naked\nand unashamed. That some men sunk in ignorance and subject to such\npassions live in huts and have their noses pierced, and others have taken\nup from their environment the habit of dining in evening dress, is to the\nmoralist a relatively insignificant detail. He looks at the man, and he\nfinds him in each case essentially the same--a primitive and undeveloped\ncreature who has not come into his rightful heritage.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nMAN'S SOCIAL ENVIRONMENT\n\n\n27. MAN IS ASSIGNED HIS PLACE.--The old fable of a social contract, by\nvirtue of which man becomes a member of a society, agreeing to renounce\ncertain rights he might exercise if wholly independent, and to receive in\nexchange legal rights which guarantee to the individual the protection of\nlife and property and the manifold advantages to be derived from\ncooperative effort, points a moral, like other fables.\n\nThe contract in question never had an existence, but neither did the\nconversation between the grasshopper and the ant. In each case, a truth\nis illustrated by a play of the imagination. Contracts there have been in\nplenty, between individuals, between families, between social classes,\nbetween nations; but they have all been contracts between men already in\na social state of some sort, capable of choice and merely desirous of\nmodifying in some particular some aspect of that social state. The notion\nof an original contract, lying at the base of all association of man with\nman, is no more than a fiction which serves to illustrate the truth that\nthe desires and wills of men are a significant factor in determining the\nparticular forms under which that association reveals itself.\n\nNo man enters into a contract to be born, or to be born a Kaffir, a\nMalay, a Hindoo, an Englishman or an American. He enters the world\nwithout his own consent, and without his own connivance he is assigned a\nplace in a social state of some sort. The reception which is accorded to\nhim is of the utmost moment to him. He may be rejected utterly by the\nsocial forces presiding over his birth. In which case he does not start\nlife independently, but is snuffed out as is a candle-flame by the wind.\nAnd if accepted, as he usually is in civilized communities, he takes his\nplace in the definite social order into which he is born, and becomes the\nsubject of education and training as a member of that particular\ncommunity.\n\n28. VARIETIES OF THE SOCIAL ORDER.--The social order into which he is\nthus ushered may be most varied in character. He may find himself a\nmember of a small and primitive group of human beings, a family standing\nin more or less loose relations to a limited number of other families; he\nmay belong to a clan in which family relationship still serves as a real\nor fictive bond; his clan may have its place in a confederation; or the\nbody politic in which he is a unit may be a nation, or an empire\nincluding many nationalities.\n\nHis relations to his fellow-man will naturally present themselves to him\nin a different light according to the different nature of the social\nenvironment in which he finds himself. The community of feeling and of\ninterests which defines rights, determines expectations, and prescribes\nduties, cannot be the same under differing conditions. Social life\nimplies cooperation, but the limits of possible cooperation are very\ndifferently estimated by man at different stages of his development. To a\nfew human beings each man is bound closely at every stage of his\nevolution. The family bond is everywhere recognized. But, beyond that,\nthere are wider and looser relationships recognized in very diverse\ndegrees, as intelligence expands, as economic advance and political\nenlightenment make possible a community life on a larger scale, as\nsympathy becomes less narrow and exclusive.\n\nIt is not easy for a member of a community at a given stage of its\ndevelopment even to conceive the possibility of such communities as may\ncome into existence under widely different conditions. The simple,\ncommunistic savage, limited in his outlook, thinks in terms of small\nnumbers. A handful of individuals enjoy membership in his group; he\nrecognizes certain relations, more or less loose, to other groups, with\nwhich his group comes into contact; beyond is the stranger, the natural\nenemy, upon whom he has no claim and to whom he owes no duty.\n\nAt a higher level there comes into being the state, including a greater\nnumber of individuals and internally organized as the simpler society is\nnot. But even in a highly civilized state much the same attitude towards\ndifferent classes of human beings may seem natural and inevitable. To\nPlato there remained the strongly marked distinctions between the\nAthenian, the citizen of another Hellenic community, and the barbarian.\nWar, when waged against the last, might justifiably be merciless; not so,\nwhen it was war between Greek states. [Footnote: Republic, Book V.] Into\nsuch conceptions of rights and duties men are born; they take them up\nwith the very air that they breathe, and they may never feel impelled to\nsubject them to the test of criticism.\n\nIt is instructive to remark that neither the speculative genius of a\nPlato nor the acute intelligence of an Aristotle could rise to the\nconception of an organized, self-governing community on a great scale. To\neach it seemed evident that the group proper must remain a comparatively\nsmall one. Plato finds it necessary to provide in his \"Laws\" that the\nnumber of households in the State shall be limited to five thousand and\nforty. Aristotle, less arbitrarily exact, allows a variation within\nrather broad limits, holding that a political community should not\ncomprise a number of citizens smaller than ten, nor one greater than one\nhundred thousand. [FOOTNOTE: PLATO, _Laws_, v. ARISTOTLE,\n_Ethics_, ix, 10.] That a highly organized state, a state not\ncomposed of a horde of subjects under autocratic control, but one in\nwhich the citizens are, in theory, self-governing, should spread over\nhalf a continent and include a hundred millions of souls, would have\nseemed to these men of genius the wildest of dreams. Yet such a dream has\nbeen realized.\n\n29. SOCIAL ORGANIZATION.--The social body of which man becomes, by the\naccident of birth, an involuntary member, may stand at any point in the\nscale of economic evolution. It may be a primitive group living from hand\nto mouth by the chase, by fishing or by gathering such food as nature\nspontaneously produces. It may be a pastoral people, more or less\nnomadic, occupied with the care of flocks and herds. It may be an\nagricultural community, rooted to the soil, looking forward from seed-\ntime to harvest, capable of foresight in storing and distributing the\nfruits of its labors. It may combine some of the above activities; and\nmay, in addition, have arrived at the stage at which the arts and crafts\nhave attained to a considerable development. In its life commerce may\nhave come to play an important role, bringing it into peaceful relations\nwith other communities and broadening the circle of its interests. That\nhuman societies at such different stages of their development should\ndiffer greatly in their internal organization, in their relations to\nother communities, and in the demands which they make upon the\nindividuals who compose them, is to be expected. Some manner of life,\nappropriate to the status of the community, comes to be prescribed. The\nideal of conduct, whether unconsciously admitted or consciously embraced\nand inculcated, is not the same in different societies. The virtues which\ncome to be prized, the defects which are disapproved, vary with their\nsetting.\n\nMoreover, the process of inner development results in differentiation of\nfunction. Clearly marked social classes come into existence, standing in\nmore or less sharply defined relations to other social classes, endowed\nwith special rights and called to the performance of peculiar duties.\n\nMan is not merely born into this or that community; he is born into a\nplace in the community. In very primitive societies that place may differ\nlittle from other places, save as such are determined by age or sex. But\nin more highly differentiated societies it may differ enormously, entail\nthe performance of widely different functions, and prescribe distinct\nvarieties of conduct.\n\n\"What will be the manner of life,\" said Plato, [Footnote: Laws, vii.]\n\"among men who may be supposed to have their food and clothing provided\nfor them in moderation, and who have entrusted the practice of the arts\nto others, and whose husbandry, committed to slaves paying a part of the\nproduce, brings them a return sufficient for living temperately?\"\n\nHis ideal leisure class is patterned after what he saw before him in\nAthens. He conceives those who belong to it to be set free from sordid\ncares and physical labors, in order that they may devote themselves to\nthe perfecting of their own minds and bodies and to preparation for the\nserious work of supervising and controlling the state. Their membership\nin the class defined their duties and prescribed the course of education\nwhich should fit them to fulfill them. It is not conceived that the\nfunctions natural and proper to one human being are also natural and\nproper to another in the same community.\n\nThe flat monotony which obtains in those simplest human societies,\nresembling extended families, where there is scarcely a demarcation of\nclasses, a distinction of occupations and a recognition of private\nproperty in any developed sense, has given place in such a state to sharp\ncontrasts in the status of man and man. Such contrasts obtain in all\nmodern civilized communities. Man is not merely a subject or citizen; he\nis a subject or citizen of this class or of that, and the environment\nwhich molds him varies accordingly.\n\n30. SOCIAL ORDER AND HUMAN WILL.--We have seen that the material\nenvironment of a man, the extent of his mastery over nature and of his\nemancipation from the dictation of pressing bodily needs, is a factor of\nenormous importance in determining what he shall become and what sort of\na life he shall lead. That his social setting is equally significant is\nobvious. What he shall know, what habits he shall form, what emotions he\nshall experience in this situation and in that, what tasks he shall find\nset before him, and what ideals he shall strive to attain, are largely\ndetermined for him independently of his choice.\n\nTo be sure, it remains true that man is man, endowed with certain\ninstincts and impulses and gifted with human intelligence. Nor are all\nmen alike in their impulses or in the degree of their intelligence.\nWithin limits the individual may exercise choice, reacting upon and\nmodifying his environment and himself. But a moment's reflection reveals\nto us that the new departure is but a step taken from a vantage-ground\nwhich has not been won by independent effort. The information in the\nlight of which he chooses, the situation in the face of which he acts,\nthe emotional nature which impels him to effort, the habits of thought\nand action which have become part of his being--these are largely due to\nthe larger whole of which he finds himself a part. He did not build the\nstage upon which he is to act. His lines have been learned from others.\nHe may recite them imperfectly; he may modify them in this or in that\nparticular. But the drama from which, and from which alone, he gains his\nsignificance, is not his own creation.\n\nThe independence of the individual in the face of his material and social\nenvironment makes itself more apparent with the progressive development\nof man. But man attains his development as a member of society, and in\nthe course of a historical evolution. It was pointed out many centuries\nago that a hand cut off from the human body cannot properly be called a\nhand, for it can perform none of the functions of one. And man, torn from\nhis setting, can no longer be considered man as the proper subject of\nmoral science.\n\nIt is as a thinking and willing creature in a social setting that man\nbecomes a moral agent. To understand him we must make a study of the\nindividual and of the social will.\n\n\n\n\nPART IV\n\nTHE REALM OF ENDS\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nIMPULSE, DESIRE, AND WILL\n\n\n31. IMPULSE.--Commands and prohibitions address themselves to man as a\nvoluntary agent. But it seems right to treat as willed by man much more\nthan falls under the head of conscious and deliberate volition. We do not\nhesitate to make him responsible for vastly more; and yet common sense\ndoes not, when enlightened, regard men as responsible for what is\nrecognized as falling wholly beyond the direct and indirect control of\ntheir wills.\n\nMotions due to even the blindest of impulses are not to be confounded\nwith those brought about by external compulsion. They may have the\nappearance of being vaguely purposive, although we would never attribute\npurpose to the creature making them. The infant that cries and struggles,\nwhen tormented by the intrusive pin, the worm writhing in the beak of a\nbird,--these act blindly, but it does not appear meaningless to say that\nthey act. The impulse is from within.\n\nSome impulses result in actions very nicely adjusted to definite ends.\nSuch are winking, sneezing, swallowing. These reflexes may occur as the\nmechanical response to a given stimulus. They may occur without our being\nconscious of them and without our having willed them.\n\nYet such responses to stimuli are not necessarily unconscious and cut off\nfrom voluntary control. He who winks involuntarily when a hand is passed\nbefore his eyes may become conscious that he has done so, and may, if he\nchooses, even acquire some facility in controlling the reflex. One may\nresist the tendency to swallow when the throat is dry, may hold back a\nsneeze, or may keep rigid the hand that is pricked by a pin. That is to\nsay, actions in their origin mechanical and independent of choice may be\nraised out of their low estate, made the objects of attention, and\nbrought within the domain of deliberate choice.\n\nFurthermore, many actions which, at the outset, claimed conscious\nattention and were deliberately willed may become so habitual that the\ndoer lapses into unconsciousness or semi-unconsciousness of his deed.\nThey take on the nature of acquired reflexes. The habit of acting appears\nto have been acquired by the mind and then turned over to the body, that\nthe mind may be free to occupy itself with other activities. The man has\nbecome less the doer than the spectator of his acts; perhaps he is even\nless than that, he is the stage upon which the action makes its\nappearance, while the spectator is his neighbor. The complicated bodily\nmovements called into play when one bites one's nails had to be learned.\nIt requires no little ingenuity to accomplish the act when the nails are\nshort. Yet one may come to the stage of perfection at which one bites\none's nails when one is absorbed in thought about other things. And one\nmay learn to slander one's neighbor almost as mechanically and\nunthinkingly as one swallows when the throat is dry.\n\nWhen we speak of man's impulses, we are using a vague word. There are\nimpulses which will never be anything more. There are impulses which may\nbecome something more. There are impulses which are no longer anything\nmore. Impulses have their psychic aspect. At its lower limit, impulse may\nappear very mechanical; at its upper, one may hesitate to say that desire\nand will are wholly absent. It is not wise to regard impulse as lying\nwholly beyond the sphere of will.\n\n32. DESIRE.--At its lower limit, desire is not distinguished by any sharp\nline from mere impulse. Is the infant that stretches out its hands toward\na bright object conscious of a desire to possess it? Or does the motion\nmade follow the visual sensation as the wail follows the wound made by\nthe pin? At a certain stage of development the phenomena of desire become\nunmistakable. The idea of something to be attained, the notion of means\nto the attainment of an end, the consciousness of tension, may stand out\nclearly. The analysis of the psychologist, which finds in desire a\nconsciousness of the present state of the self, an idea of a future\nstate, and a feeling of tension towards the realization of the latter,\nmay represent faithfully the elements present in desire in the higher\nstages of its development, but it would be difficult to find those\nelements clearly marked in desire which has just begun to differentiate\nitself from impulse. There may be a desire where there can scarcely be\nsaid to be a self as an object of consciousness; one may desire where\nthere is no clear consciousness of a future state as distinct from a\npresent one.\n\nMoreover, the consciousness of desire may be faint and fugitive, as it\nmay be intense and persistent. Desire is the step between the first\nconsciousness of the object and the voluntary release of energy which\nworks toward its attainment. This step may be passed over almost\nunnoticed. The thought of shifting my position when I feel uncomfortable\nmay be followed by the act with no clear consciousness of a tension and\nits voluntary release. The mere thought, itself but faintly and\nmomentarily in consciousness, appears to be followed at once by the act,\nand desire and will to be eliminated. It does not follow that they are\nactually eliminated; they may be present as fleeting shadows which fail\nto attract attention.\n\nIf, however, the desire fails to find its immediate fruition, if it is\nfrustrated, consciousness of it may become exceedingly intense. There is\nthe constant thought of the object, a vivid feeling of tension, of a\nstriving to attain the object. Desire may become an obsession, a torment\nfilling the horizon, and the volition in which it finds its fruition\nstands forth as a marked relief. This condition of things may be brought\nabout by the inhibition occasioned by the physical impossibility of\nattaining the object; but it may also be brought about by the struggle of\nincompatible desires among themselves. The man is drawn in different\ndirections, he is subject to various tensions, and he becomes acutely\nconscious that he is impelled to move in several ways and is moving in\nnone.\n\nI have used the word \"tension\" to describe the psychic fact present in\ndesire. I have done so for want of a better word. Of the physical basis\nof desire, of what takes place in the brain, we know nothing. With the\npsychic fact, the feeling of agitation and unrest, we are all familiar.\nOf the tendency of desire to discharge itself in action we are aware. A\ndesire appears to be an inchoate volition--that which, if ripened\nsuccessfully and not nipped in the bud, would become a volition. It may\nbe looked upon as the first step toward action--a step which may or may\nnot be followed by others. It does not seem out of place to call it a\nstate of tension, of strain, of inclination. In speaking, thus, we use\nphysical metaphors, but they do not appear out of place.\n\n33. DESIRE OF THE UNATTAINABLE.--But if a desire may be regarded as an\nunripe act of will, an inchoate volition, how is it that we can desire\nthe unattainable, a sufficiently common experience? I may bitterly regret\nsome act of my own in the past; I may earnestly wish that I had not\nperformed it. But the past is irrevocable. Hence, the desire for the\nattainment of what is in this case the object, a different past, can\nhardly be regarded as even a preparatory step toward attainment.\n\nIn this case it can not, and were all desires directed upon what is in\nthe nature of the case wholly unattainable by effort, it would occur to\nno one to speak of desire as a first step toward action. But normally and\nusually desires are not of this nature. They usually do constitute a link\nin the chain of occurrences which end in action. Did they not, they would\nhave little significance in the life-history of the creature desiring.\nWith the appearance of free ideas, with an extension of the range of\nmemory and imagination, objects may be held before the mind which are not\nproperly objects to be attained. Yet such objects are of the kind which\nattract or repel, i.e., of the kind which men endeavor to realize in\naction. They cannot be realized; we do not will to realize them; but we\nshould will to do so were they realizable. The psychic factor, the\nstrain, the tension, is unmistakably present. Real desire is revealed,\nand common speech, as well as the language of science, recognizes the\nfact.\n\nThis general attraction or repulsion exercised by objects, in spite of\nthe fact that the objects may not appear to be realizable, is not without\nsignificance. The hindrance to realization may be an accidental one; it\nmay not be wholly insuperable. The presence of a persistent desire may\nresult in persistent effort, which may ultimately be crowned by success.\nOr it may show itself as a permanent readiness for effort. Were every\nfrustrated desire at once dismissed from consciousness, the result would\nshow itself in a passivity detrimental to action in general. Where the\nobject is intrinsically an impossible one, persistent desire is, of\ncourse, futile. The dog baying at the cat in the tree is the prey of such\na desire, but he does not realize it, or he might discontinue his\ninefficacious leaps. The man tormented by his unworthy act in the past is\nquite aware of the futility of his longings. His condition is\npsychologically explicable, but to a rational being, in so far as\nrational, it is not normal.\n\nNormally, desire is the intermediate step between the recognition of an\nobject and the will to attain it. The most futile of desires may be\nharbored. The imaginative mind may range over a limitless field, and give\nitself up to desires the most extravagant. But indulgence in this habit\nserves as a check to action serviceable to the individual and to the\nrace. As a matter of fact, desire is usually for what seems conceivably\nwithin the limit of possible attainment. The man desires to catch a\ntrain, to run that he may attain that end; his mind is little occupied\nwith the desire to fly, nor does his longing center upon the carpet of\nSolomon. To the desirability of dismissing from the mind futile desires\ncurrent moral maxims bear witness.\n\n34. WILL.--The natural fruition of a desire is, then, an act of will; the\ntension is normally followed by that release of energy which makes for\nthe attainment of the object or end of the desire.\n\nThe question suggests itself, may there not be present, even in blindly\nimpulsive action, something faintly corresponding to desire and will?\nThat there should be an object in the sense of something aimed at, held\nin view as an idea to be realized, appears to be out of the question. But\nmay there not be a more or less vague and evanescent sense of tension,\nand some psychic fact which may be regarded as the shadowy forerunner of\nthe consciousness of the release of tension which, on a higher plane,\nreveals itself as the consciousness of will? There may be: introspection\nis not capable of answering the question, and one is forced to fall back\nupon an argument from analogy. Blindly impulsive action and action in\nwhich will indubitably and consciously plays a part are not wholly\nunlike, but they differ by a very wide interval. The interval is not an\nempty gap, however, for, as we have seen, all volitions do not stand out\nupon the background of our consciousness with the same unmistakable\ndistinctness. There are volitions no one would hesitate to call such. And\nthere are phenomena resembling volition which we more and more doubtfully\ninclude under that caption as we pass own on the descending scale.\n\nNaturally, in describing desire and volition we do not turn to the\ntwilight region where all outlines are blurred and indistinct. We fix our\nattention upon those instances in which the phenomena are clearly and\nstrongly marked. They are most clearly marked where desire does not, at\nonce and unimpeded, discharge itself in action, but where action is\ndeferred, and a struggle takes place between desires.\n\nThe man is subject to various tensions, he is impelled in divers\ndirections, he hesitates, deliberates, and he finally makes a decision.\nDuring this period of deliberation he is apt to be vividly conscious of\ndesire as such--as a tension not yet relieved, as an alternation of\ntensions as the attention occupies itself, first with one desirable\nobject, then with another. And the decision, which puts an end to the\nstrife, is clearly distinguished from the desires as such.\n\nIn the reflective mind, which turns its attention upon itself and its own\nprocesses, the distinction between desire and will seems to be a marked\none. But it is not merely the developed and reflective mind which is the\nseat of deliberation. The child deliberates between satisfying its\nappetite and avoiding possible punishment; it reaches for the forbidden\nfruit, and withdraws its hand; it wavers, it is moved in one direction as\none desire becomes predominant, and its action is checked as the other\ngains in ascendency. Deliberation this unmistakably is. And deliberation\nwe may observe in creatures below the level of man; in the sparrow,\nhopping as close as it dares to the hand that sprinkles crumbs before it;\nin the dog, ready to dart away in pursuance of his private desires, but\nrestrained by the warning voice of his master. This is deliberation. Such\ndeliberation as we find in the developed and enlightened human being it\nis not. That, however, there is present even in these humble instances,\nsome psychic fact corresponding to what in the higher mind reveals itself\nas desire and volition, we have no reason to doubt.\n\n35. DESIRE AND WILL NOT IDENTICAL.--I have had occasion to remark that\nthe modern psychologist draws no such sharp line between desire and\nvolition as the psychologist of an earlier time. That some distinction\nshould be drawn seems palpable. It is not without significance that\nimmemorial usage sanctions this distinction. The ancient Stoic's quarrel\nwas with the desires, not with the will. The will was treated as a master\nendowed with rightful authority; the desires were subjects, often in\nrebellion, but justly to be held in subjection. And from the days of the\nStoic down almost to our own, the will has been treated much as though it\nwere an especial and distinct faculty of man, not uninfluenced by desire,\nbut in no sense to be identified with it,--above it, its law-giver,\ndetached, independent, supreme. This tendency finds its culmination in\nthat impressive modern Stoic, Immanuel Kant, who desires to isolate the\nwill, and to emancipate it altogether from the influence of desire.\n\nRecently the pendulum has swung in the other direction. It has been\nrecognized that will is the natural outcome of desire, and that without\ndesire there would be no will at all. It has even been maintained that\nwill _is_ desire, the desire \"with which the self identifies\nitself.\" [Footnote: See, for example, GREEN, _Prolegomena to\nEthics_, Sec 144-149.]\n\nTo this last form of expression objection may be made on the score of its\nvagueness. What does it mean for the self to \"identify\" itself with a\ndesire? And if such an identification is necessary to will, can there be\nvolition or anything resembling volition where self-consciousness has not\nyet been developed? It is very imperfectly developed in young children,\nand in the lower animals still less developed, if at all; and yet we see\nin them the struggle of desires and the resultant decision emerging in\naction. If we call a volition in which consciousness of the self has\nplayed its part \"volition proper,\" it still remains to inquire how\nvolitions on a lower plane are to be distinguished from mere desires.\n\nWhat happens in a typical case of deliberation and decision? Two or more\nobjects are before the mind and the attention occupies itself with them\nsuccessively. Tensions alternate, wax strong and die away, only to\nrecover their strength again. Finally the attention fixes upon one object\nto the exclusion of others, the strife of desires come to an end, and\nthere is an inception of action in the direction of the realization of\nthat particular desire. The desire itself is not to be confounded with\nthe decision; the tension, with its release. The psychic fact is in the\ntwo cases different. The decision brings relief from the strain. It\ncannot properly be called a desire, not even a triumphant desire,\nalthough in it a desire attains a victory and its realization has begun.\n\nSuch a victory not all desires, even when most intense and prolonged, are\nable to attain. We have seen that the desire for the unattainable may\namount to an obsession, and yet it will not ripen into an act of\nvolition. The release of the tension in incipient action does not come.\nThe bent bow remains bent. From the sense of strain in such a case one\nmay be freed, as one is freed from the desires which succumb during the\nprocess of deliberation, by the occupation of the attention with other\nthings. But the desire has been forgotten, not satisfied. It may at any\ntime recur in all its strength.\n\nWe cannot more nearly describe the psychic fact called decision. Just as\nwe cannot more nearly describe the psychic fact to which we have given\nthe name \"tension.\" Although the nervous basis of the phenomena of desire\nand will are unknown, we can easily conceive that, during desire, and\nbefore desire has resulted in the release of energy which is the\nimmediate forerunner of action, the cerebral occurrence should be\ndifferent from that which is present when that release takes place. Nor\nshould it be surprising that the psychical fact corresponding to each\nshould be different.\n\nThe view here set forth does not confuse desire and will, making will\nindistinguishable from desire, or, at least, from certain desires. On the\nother hand, it does not separate them, as though they could not be\nbrought within the one series of occurrences which may properly be\nregarded as a unit. It has the advantage of making comprehensible the\nmutual relations of impulse, desire, and will. Blind impulse discharges\nitself in action seemingly without the psychic accompaniments which\ndistinguish desire and will. But all impulse is not blind impulse, and\ndesiring and willing admit of many degrees of development. To deny will\nto creatures lower than man, as some writers have done, is to misconceive\nthe nature of the process that issues in action. We are tempted to do it\nonly when we compare will in its highest manifestations with those\nrudimentary foreshadowings of it which stand at the lower end of the\nscale. But even in man we can discern blind impulse, dimly conscious\ndesires which ripen into as dimly recognized decisions, and, at the very\ntop of the scale, conscious decisions which follow deliberation, and are\nthe resultant of a struggle between many desires.\n\nFor ethical science it is of no little importance to apprehend clearly\nthe relation of decision to desire. Moral rules aim to control human\nconduct, and conduct is the expression of the whole man. If we have no\nclear conception of the desires which struggle for the mastery within\nhim, and of the relation of his decisions to those desires, in vain will\nwe endeavor to influence him in the direction in which we wish him to\nmove.\n\n36. THE WILL AND DEFERRED ACTION.--It remains to speak briefly of one\npoint touching the nature of will. It has been suggested that the\ndecision is the psychic fact corresponding to the release of nervous\nenergy which relieves the tension of desire. It is the beginning of\naction, of realization. But what shall we say of resolves which cannot at\nonce be carried out in action? Of decisions the realization of which is\ndeferred? I may long debate the matter and then determine to pay a bill\nwhen it comes due next month. The decision is made; but, for a time, at\nleast, nothing happens. How can I here speak of the beginning of action?\n\nThe action does not at once begin, yet it is, in a sense, initiated. The\nstruggle of conflicting considerations has ceased; the man is \"set\" for\naction in a certain direction. For the time being the matter is settled,\nand only an external circumstance prevents the resolve from being carried\nout. The psychic factor is widely different from that of mere desire, and\nis not recognized to be different from that present in volition which at\nonce issues in action.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nTHE PERMANENT WILL\n\n\n37. CONSCIOUSLY CHOSEN ENDS.--Our volitions, deliberate, less deliberate,\nand those verging upon what scarcely deserves the name of volition, weave\nthemselves into complicated patterns, which find their expression in long\nseries of the most varied activities. The nature of the pattern as a\nwhole may be determined by the deliberate selection of an end, and to\nthat the other choices which enter into the complex may be subordinate.\n\nThus, a man may decide that he can afford to give himself the pleasure of\na long walk through the country before taking the train at the next town.\nDuring the course of the ramble he may make a number of more or less\nconscious decisions not incompatible with the purpose he originally\nembraced--to take this bit of road or that, to loiter in the shade, to\nclimb a hill that he may enjoy a view, to hasten lest he find himself too\nlate in arriving at his destination. These decisions may require little\ndeliberation; they spring into being at the call of the moment, are not\npreceded by deliberation, and leave little trace in the memory. They may\nbe made semi-consciously, and while the mind is largely occupied with\nother things, with thoughts of the past or the future, with other scenes\nsuggested by the landscape, or with the flowers which skirt the road.\nNevertheless, we would not hesitate to call them decisions.\n\nMay we apply the word in speaking of the single steps made by the\ntraveler as he advances? His feet seem to move of themselves and to make\nno demands at all upon his attention.\n\nYet it is not strictly true to say that they move of themselves. They are\nunder control, and the successive steps follow upon each other not\nwithout direction. They serve as expressions of the will to take the\nwalk, and they are adjusted to the end consciously held in view. That\nattention is not fixed upon the individual steps does not remove them\nfrom the sphere of the voluntary, in a proper sense of the words. They\nare expressions of the man's will, even if they be not the result of a\nconscious series of deliberations and decisions. Whether we shall use the\nterm decision in connection with the single step is rather a question of\nverbal usage than of the determination of fact. We have seen that\ndecisions shade down gradually, from those quite unmistakable and\ncharacteristic, to occurrences far less characteristic and more\ndisputable. The consciousness of deliberation and decision does not\ndisappear abruptly at some point in the series. It fades away, as the\nlight of day gradually passes, through twilight, into the shades of\nnight. And actions not directly recognizable as consciously voluntary may\nbe obviously under voluntary control. They weave themselves, with actions\nmore palpably voluntary and higher in the scale, into those complicated\npatterns determined by the conscious selection of an end. As long as they\nserve their purpose, and require no effort, they may remain inconspicuous\nand unconsidered. But, as soon as a check is met with, attention is\ndirected upon them and they become the subject of conscious voluntary\ncontrol.\n\n38. ENDS NOT CONSCIOUSLY CHOSEN.--In the above illustration the end\nwhich determines the character of a long chain of actions has been\ndeliberately chosen. It is a consciously selected end. When, however, we\ncontemplate critically the lives of our fellow-men, we seem to become\naware of the fact that many of them act in unconsciousness of the\nultimate end upon which their actions converge. The attention is taken up\nwith minor decisions, and takes no note of the permanent trend of the\nwill.\n\nThus, the selfish man may be unaware of the significance of the whole\nseries of choices which he makes in a day; the malicious man may not\nrealize that he is animated by the settled purpose to injure his\nneighbors; one may be law-abiding without ever having resolved to obey\nthe laws through the course of a life. If called upon to account for this\nor that subordinate decision, each may exhaust his ingenuity in assigning\nfalse causes, while ignoring the permanent attitude of the will revealed\nin the series of decisions as a whole and giving them what consistency\nthey possess.\n\nHence, the choice of ends, as well as the adoption of means to the\nattainment of ends, may reveal itself either in conscious deliberate\ndecisions, or in the working of obscure impulses which do not emerge into\nthe light. Even in the latter case, we have not to do with what is wholly\nbeyond the sphere of intelligent voluntary control. The selfish man may\nbe made aware that he is selfish; the malicious man, that he is\nmalicious; and each may deliberately take steps to remedy the defect\nrevealed.\n\nWhen we understand the word \"will\" in the broad sense indicated in the\npreceding pages, we see that a man's habits may justly be regarded as\nexpressions of the man's will. That, through repetition, his actions have\nbecome almost automatic does not remove them from the sphere of the\nvolitional. That he does not clearly see, or that he misconceives, the\nsignificance of his habits, and may acquiesce in them even though they be\ninjurious to him, does not make them the less willed, so long as he\nfollows them. It is only when he actively endeavors to control or modify\na habit that he may be said to will its opposite.\n\n39. THE CHOICE OF IDEALS.--Nor is it too much to bring under the head of\nwilling the attitudes of approval and disapproval taken by man in\ncontemplating certain occurrences, actual or possible, which lie beyond\nthe confines of the field within which he can exercise control. The field\nof control, direct and indirect, is as we have seen a broad one, but it\nhas its limits, and many of the things he would like to see accomplished\nor prevented lie without it.\n\nA man's will may be set upon the preservation of his health, he may\nstrive to attain that end, and circumstances may condemn him to a life of\ninvalidism. He would be healthy if he could, but his strivings are\noverruled. Or he may earnestly pursue the attainment of wealth, and may\nend in bankruptcy. He has the will to be rich, but that will is\nfrustrated.\n\nIt is the same when we consider his attitude toward the decisions and\nactions of other men. By mere willing he cannot condition another's\nchoice. But by willing he can often influence indirectly the volitions of\nhis fellows. He can enlighten or misinform, persuade or threaten, reward\nor punish. In many ways he can weight the scale of his neighbor's mind.\nBut such influences are not all-powerful, and only within limits can we\nbend other wills to follow a course prescribed for them by our own.\n\nNevertheless, even beyond those limits, the attitude of a man's mind\ntoward the actions of his neighbor may be a volitional one. His will may\nbe for them or against them; he may approve or disapprove, command or\nprohibit. We know quite well that commands and prohibitions laid upon\nchildren and servants will not always be effective, yet we issue general\ncommands and prohibitions, as though assuming unlimited control. It is\nquite in accordance with usage to speak of a man as willing an end, even\nwhere it is clearly recognized that the will to attain does not guarantee\nattainment. The man does what he can; could he do more he would do so; in\nhis helplessness the attitude of the will persists unchanged.\n\nIt is obvious that, in this large sense of the word \"will,\" we may speak\nof a man as continuing to will or to approve a given end, even when he is\nnot willing or approving anything, in a narrower sense of the words, at\nthis or that moment. We speak of a man as inspired by the permanent will\nto be rich, although at many times during the day, and certainly during\nhis hours of sleep, no act of volition with such an end in view has an\nactual existence.\n\nNo man always thinks of the permanent ends which he has selected as\ncontrols to his actions. They are selected, they pass from his mind, and,\nwhen they recur to it again, the selection is reaffirmed. But, whether he\nis actually thinking about the ends in question or not, the settled trend\nof his will is expressed in them.\n\nThis settled trend of the will, even when scarcely recognized by the man\nhimself, may be vastly more significant than the passing individual\ndecision, although the latter be accompanied by clear consciousness. In\ncertain cases the latter is a true exponent of character, but not\ninfrequently it is not. It may be the result of a whim, of an irrational\nimpulse little congruous with a man's nature. It may be the outcome of\nsome misconception and in contradiction with what the man would will, if\nenlightened. The individual volition appears only to disappear; it may\nleave no apparent trace. The permanent will indicates a habit of mind, a\nway of acting, which may be expected to make its influence felt with the\npersistency of that which exerts a steady pressure. To refuse it the name\nof will seems arbitrary and unjustifiable.\n\nIn the permanent will is expressed the _character_ of the man. This\ncharacter is reflected in his _ideals_. Sometimes ideals are clearly\nrecognized and deliberately chosen. Sometimes a man is little aware of\nthe nature of the ideals which control his strivings. He may be said to\nchoose, but to choose more or less blindly. But, whether he chooses with\nclear vision or without it, he may choose well or ill.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nTHE OBJECT IN DESIRE AND WILL\n\n\n40. THE OBJECT AS END TO BE REALIZED.--The expression \"the object before\nthe mind in desiring and willing\" is not free from ambiguity. It may be\nused in referring to the idea, the psychic fact, which is present when\none desires or wills. Or it may be used to indicate the future fact which\nis the realization of the idea, that which the idea points to as its end.\n\nThe idea and the end are, of course, not identical, but they are related.\nThe idea mirrors the end, foreshadows it. In the attempt to explain a\nvoluntary act we may turn either to the one or to the other; we may\nregard the idea as the efficient cause which has resulted in the act, or\nwe may account for the act by pointing out the end it was purposed to\nattain. There is no reason why we should not recognize both the efficient\ncause and the final cause, or end.\n\nThe latter has been the subject of more or less mystification. How, it\nhas been asked, can an end, which does not, as yet, exist, be a cause\nwhich sets in motion the apparatus that brings about its own existence?\n[Footnote: See JANET, _Les Causes Finales_, Paris, 1901, p. 1, ff.]\n\nThe difficulty is a gratuitous one. It lies in the confusion of the final\ncause or end, with the efficient cause. When we realize that the\nexpression \"final cause\" means simply that which is purposed, or accepted\nas an end, objections to it fall away. That, in desire and will, in all\ntheir higher manifestations, at least, there is consciousness of an end,\nthere can be no question.\n\nIf we attempt to give more than a vague physical explanation of actions\ndue to blind impulse, we are compelled to refer to the idea, the psychic\nfact present, as efficient cause. Not so when we are concerned with\nactions of a higher order. We constantly refer such actions to the ends\nthey have in view. We regard them as satisfactorily explained when we\nhave pointed out the end upon which they are directed.\n\nTo the moralist it is of the utmost importance to know what ends men\nactually choose, and what they may be induced to choose. He is concerned\nwith conduct, which is intelligent and purposive action. Conduct may be\nstudied without entering upon an investigation of the efficient causes,\nwhether physical or mental, which are the antecedents of action of any\nkind. Such matters one may leave to the physiologist and the\npsychologist.\n\nAccordingly, when I speak of \"the object\" in desiring and willing, I\nshall use the word to indicate the end held in view, that toward which\nthe creature desiring or willing strives.\n\n41. HUMAN NATURE AND THE OBJECTS CHOSEN.--What objects do men actually\ndesire and will to attain? To give a detailed account of them appears to\nbe a hopeless and profitless task.\n\nI take up my pen, I write, I turn to a book; I look at my watch, change\nmy position, stretch, walk up and down, speak to some one who is present,\nsmile or give vent to irritation; I sit down to a meal, eat of this dish\nrather than of that, go out to visit a place of amusement, respond to the\nappeal of the beggar in the street--in short, I fill my day with a\nthousand actions the most diverse, which follow each other without\nintermission.\n\nEach of these actions may be the object of desire and will. No novel,\nhowever realistic, however prolix in its descriptions, can give us more\nthan the barest outlines of the course of life followed by the personages\nit attempts to portray. A touch here, a touch there, and a character is\nindicated. No more, for more would be intolerable.\n\nIt is significant, however, that the few points touched upon can serve to\ngive an idea of a character. Not-withstanding their diversity, volitions\nfall into classes; it is quite possible to indicate in a general way the\nkind of choices a given creature may be impelled to make. They are a\nrevelation of the nature of the creature choosing. That beings differing\nin their nature should be impelled to different courses of action can\nsurprise no one. Cats have no temptation to wander in herds; the\nexhibition of pugnacity in a sheep would strike us with wonder.\n\nTo every kind of creature its nature: and, although individuals within a\nkind differ more or less from one another, we look for approximation to a\ntype. So it is with man. The expression \"human nature,\" so much in the\nmouths of certain moralists ancient and modern, although somewhat vague,\nis not without its significance. To it we refer in passing a judgment\nupon individual human beings, and we regard as abnormal those who vary\nwidely from the type.\n\n42. THE INSTINCTS AND IMPULSES OF MAN.--In sketching for us the outlines\nof this distinctively human nature, the psychologist proceeds to an\nenumeration of the fundamental instincts and general innate tendencies of\nman, and he draws up a list of the emotions which correspond to them. He\nmentions the instincts of flight, repulsion, curiosity, pugnacity, self-\nabasement, self-assertion, the parental instinct, the instinct of sex,\nthe instinct for food, that for acquisition, etc. He points out that man\nis by nature open to sympathy, is suggestible, and has the impulse to\nplay. In such instincts and inborn general tendencies, blending and\nreinforcing or opposing and inhibiting one another, he sees the forces\nwhich give their direction to desire and will; which select, out of all\npossible objects, those which are to become objects for man.\n\nIt is not necessary here to discuss the nature of instinct, to\ndistinguish between an instinct and a more general inborn tendency, or to\nattempt a complete list of the instincts and inborn tendencies of man.\nNor need I ask whether every choice made by a human being can be traced,\ndirectly or indirectly, to one or more of the instincts and other\ntendencies given in the above or in any similar list. In explaining the\nindividual choices which men make, or the desires to which they are\nsubject, there is much scope for the ingenuity of the psychologist.\n\nBut of the significance for human life of the impulses mentioned there\ncan be no question. What would the life of a man be if he could feel no\nfear or repulsion? Could there be a development of knowledge in the\nabsence of curiosity? How long would the race endure if the parental\ninstinct were wholly lacking? What would become of a man who never\ndesired food? Could a human society of any sort exist if there were no\nsympathy or tender feeling, no impulse to seek the company of other men?\nIt is men, such as they are, endowed with the qualities which distinguish\nman, who associate themselves into communities, and the customs and laws\nof such reflect the fundamental impulses in which they had their origin.\n\n43. THE STUDY OF MAN'S INSTINCTS IMPORTANT.--That a careful study of\nhuman nature is of the utmost importance to the moralist is palpable. He\nmust not prescribe for man a rule of conduct which it is not in man to\nfollow. He must not set before him, as inducements to actions, objects\nwhich it is impossible for him to desire and, hence, to choose.\n\nTo be sure, the main traits of human nature were pretty well recognized\nmany centuries before the modern science of psychology had its birth. Had\nthey not been, man could not have had rational dealings with his fellow-\nman; could not effectively have persuaded and threatened, rewarded and\npunished, and, in short, set in motion all the machinery which is at the\nservice of one man when he wants to influence the conduct of another. But\nmoralists ancient and modern have made serious blunders through an\nimperfect understanding of the impulses natural to man; and the modern\npsychologist, without claiming to be a wholly original or an infallible\nguide, may be of no little service in helping us to detect them.\n\nThus, it was possible for as shrewd an observer of man as Aristotle to\nexplain the affection of a man for his child by regarding it as an\nextension of self-love, the child being, in a sense, a part of the\nparent. [Footnote: _Ethics_, Book VIII, chapter xii.] Aristotle's\nquaint explanation of the fact that maternal affection is apt to be\nstronger than paternal is an error of a kindred nature. [Footnote:\n_Ibid_., Book IX, chapter vii.] And the ancient egoists, [Footnote:\nSee the answer to Epicurus in the _Discourses of Epictetus_,\ntranslated by LONG, London, 1890, pp. 69-70.] in setting before man their\nselfish and anti-social ideal of human conduct, made their appeal, not to\nthe whole man, but only to a part of him. The normal man, whether savage\nor civilized, whether ancient or modern, cannot desire a life filled only\nwith the objects which they set before him. Nor is the modern moralist,\nor as he prefers to style himself, \"immoralist,\" Nietzsche, [Footnote: A\nsketch of Nietzsche's doctrine is given later, see chapter xxix.] guilty\nof less gross a blunder. He rails at morality as commonly understood,\ncalling it \"the morality of the herd,\" and he recommends isolation, the\nrepression of sympathy, and a contempt for one's fellows. To be sure, the\n\"herd\" is a scornful, rhetorical expression,--what Bentham would have\ncalled a \"question-begging epithet,\"--for men do not, properly speaking,\nlive in herds; but they do normally live in human societies of some sort,\nand they have the instincts and impulses which fit them to do so. The\nrepression of such instincts and impulses does violence to their nature,\nand he who advocates other than a social morality should advocate it for\nsome creature other than man. Man is a social creature, and, among the\nobjects of his desire and will, he must give a prominent place to some\nwhich are distinctively social.\n\n44. THE BEWILDERING MULTIPLICITY OF THE OBJECTS OF DESIRE, AND THE EFFORT\nTO FIND AN UNDERLYING UNITY.--The mere enumeration of the characteristics\nwhich have been adduced as instincts or fundamental innate tendencies of\nman is enough to reveal the truth that man is not merely the subject of\n_desire_, but of _desires_; that is to say, his impulses are\ndirected upon objects widely different from each other.\n\nAnd when we call to mind that the concepts of the instincts and\nfundamental tendencies of human nature, as thus enumerated, are products\nof abstraction and generalization--are general notions gathered from the\nnumberless concrete instances of desire and will furnished by our\nobservation--we are forced to realize that the objects which individual\nmen set before themselves in desiring and willing are really endlessly\nvaried.\n\nAll men are not equally moved by fear, anger, repulsion, tender emotion,\nor sympathy. Nor do all men find the same things the objects of their\nfear, anger, repulsion, and the rest. The desire for food is an\nabstraction; in the concrete, this man eagerly accepts an oyster, and\nthat one turns from it in disgust. In order to deal successfully with our\nfellow-man, we must not merely know man. We must know men.\n\nFurthermore, not only do individuals set their affections upon different\nobjects, but the same person at different stages of his development\ndesires widely different things. What is a temptation to the boy has no\nattraction for the man. What fills the savage with longings may inspire\nin the product of a high civilization no other feeling than repulsion.\n\nAnd what is true of the individual is true of men in the mass. The\nobjects of desire and of endeavor are not the same in communities of all\norders. Each kind of man has its own nature, which differs in some\nrespects from that of each other kind, and dictates what shall be, for\nthis or that man, an object of desire and will. No two men desire\nprecisely the same thing in all particulars. Yet each is a man, and is\nendowed with the usual complement of human instincts.\n\nThe process of abstraction and generalization which resulted in the\nabove-mentioned list of the elements which enter into the constitution of\nhuman nature is, nevertheless, not without its uses. It serves to order,\nto some extent, at least, the bewildering variety of the phenomena\npresented to us when we view the broad field of the desires and volitions\nof all sorts and conditions of men. Men's choices fall into _kinds_;\nthere is similiarity in difference. We do not approach an unknown man\nwith the feeling that he is a wholly unknown quantity. He is, at least, a\nman, and we know something of men. We have _some_ notion how to go\nat him.\n\nBut the ordering of the motley multiplicity of men's desires by a\nreference to the fundamental instincts of man stops far short of a\ncomplete unification. We are left with a number of distinct and\napparently irreducible impulses and tendencies on our hands. If it is\nuseful to go so far, may it not be much more useful to go still farther?\n\nAristotle divided things eligible into those eligible in themselves and\nthose eligible for the sake of something else. How it would illuminate\nthe field of action, if it were discovered that men ultimately desire but\none thing, and choose all other things on account of it! Would the\ndiscovery not facilitate immensely our dealings with our fellows,\nsuggesting new possibilities of control? A notorious instance of the\nattempt to conjure away the bewildering diversity in men's desires and\nchoices lies in the selection of pleasure as the one thing eligible in\nitself, the unique ultimate object of human action. Of this object we\nhave, so far, taken no account.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nINTENTION AND MOTIVE\n\n\n45. COMPLEX ENDS.--I may desire to clear my throat and may do so. The\naction is a trivial one, is over in a moment, and is forgotten. On the\nother hand, I may desire to spend my summer on the sea-coast, to grow\nrich in business, to attain to high social position, or to satisfy\npolitical ambition.\n\nWhen the object is of this complicated description, there may easily be\nelements in it which, considered alone, I should not desire at all.\n\nThe summer on the New Jersey coast may make for health. But it may entail\nmosquitoes, uncomfortable rooms, unaccustomed food, the lack of wonted\noccupations, and a distasteful association at close quarters with\nneighbors not of one's choosing. The road to wealth is an arduous one.\nThe envied social station may imply the swallowing of many rebuffs. The\nway of the politician is hard.\n\nOne may desire, _on the whole_, one of these objects, or a thousand\nlike them; but there are, obviously, many things comprised in the whole,\nor unavoidably bound up with it, that cannot attract, and are not\neligible for their own sake.\n\n46. INTENTION.--An object chosen and realized may bring in its train an\nindefinite series of consequences foreseen or unforeseen.\n\nThe striking of a match to light a candle may result in an unforeseen and\ndisastrous conflagration. The overmastering desire to grow rich may have\nits fruit in an excessive application to business, the neglect of the\nfamily and of the duties of citizenship, and in hard and, perhaps,\nunscrupulous dealings. These things may be foreseen and accepted as\nnatural accompaniments of the end chosen. But there may also be entailed\nshattered health, overwhelming anxieties, and the distress of seeing\none's sons, brought up in luxury and without incentive to effort, victims\nto the dangers which menace the idle rich.\n\nWhether such consequences might have been foreseen and provided against\nor not, it is true that they are frequently not foreseen with clearness.\nThey certainly form no part of the intention of the man who bends his\nenergies to the attainment of wealth. He does not deliberately intend to\ninjure his health, to lose the affection of his family, to leave behind\nhim degenerate children. He does intend to get rich, if he can.\n\nHow many of the elements contained in the object chosen, or so bound up\nwith it that they must be accepted along with it, may fairly be said to\nfall within the intention of the chooser? There may easily be dispute\ntouching the latitude with which the word intention may be used. Some\nthings a man sees clearly to be inseparably connected with the object of\nhis choice; some he is less conscious of; some he overlooks altogether.\nIt does not seem unwarranted to maintain that the first of the three\nclasses of things, at least, may be said to be intended. When Dr.\nKatzenberger, in his desire to get across the road without sinking in the\nmire, used as a stepping-stone his old servant Flex, who had fallen down,\nhis complete intention was not simply to cross the road unmuddied. It was\nto cross the road unmuddied by stepping on Flex.\n\nEvidently the intention--the whole object--gives some revelation of the\ncharacter of a man. Many men may will to avoid the mud; but not all of\nthese can will to avoid it by stepping upon a fellow-man.\n\n47. MOTIVE.--The stepping upon a fellow-man with whom one is on good\nterms can scarcely be regarded as a thing desirable in itself. If it is\ndesired, it is because of the complex in which it is an element. Some\nother element or elements may exert the whole attractive force which\nmoves desire and will. In other words, some things are chosen for the\nsake of others.\n\nWhen we have discovered that for the sake of which any object is chosen,\nwe have come upon the _Motive_. The intention may be said to embrace\nthe whole object as foreseen. The motive embraces only a part of it, but\nthe vital part, the part without which the object would not be desired\nand willed.\n\n48. ETHICAL SIGNIFICANCE OF INTENTION AND MOTIVE.--There has been much\ndispute among moralists as to the ethical significance of intention and\nmotive. Bentham maintains that \"from one and the same motive, and from\nevery kind of motive, may proceed actions that are good, others that are\nbad, and others that are indifferent.\" He gives the following\nillustration: [Footnote: _Principles of Morals and Legislation_,\nchapter x, Sec 3.]\n\n\"1. A boy, in order to divert himself, reads an inspiring book; the\nmotive is accounted, perhaps, a good one; at any rate, not a bad one. 2.\nHe sets his top a-spinning: the motive is deemed at any rate not a bad\none. 3. He sets loose a mad ox among a crowd: his motive is now, perhaps,\ntermed an abominable one. Yet in all three cases the motive may be the\nvery same: it may be neither more nor less than curiosity.\"\n\nIn criticizing this citation I must point out that curiosity is not,\nproperly speaking, an object of choice at all. I have used the word\n\"object\" to indicate what is chosen, not to indicate the psychic fact\npresent at the time of the choice. And I have said that the motive is the\nvital part of the object.\n\nHence curiosity should not be called the motive. No man chooses curiosity\nas an object, either in the abstract or in the concrete. Curiosity is a\nfundamental impulse of human nature; we may elect to satisfy the impulse\nin any given instance; in other words, we may choose the appropriate\nobject.\n\nIn the case of the boy letting loose the bull in the crowd, the object is\nto see what will happen under the given circumstances. This is what\nappeals to the boy. Something else might have appealed to him in\nperforming the action. He might have had the deliberate wish to injure\ncertain persons present against whom he harbored resentment. Or his\nsympathies might have been with the bull, which had been the victim of\nbad treatment, and to which he wished to grant its liberty. Were the\ncrowd in question a band of ruffians intent upon lynching, he might have\nbeen moved by the desire to assist, in a somewhat irregular way, in the\nre-establishment of law and order. But even if his real object is only to\nsee what will happen, there is no reason to put it on a par with the\nobject in view when a boy spins a top. \"To see what will happen\" is the\nvaguest of phrases, and covers a multitude of disparate objects. He who\ndoes things to see what will happen has, at least, a very general\nknowledge of the kind of thing likely to happen, if a given experiment is\nmade. A boy does not hold his finger in the candle-flame to see what will\nhappen. He who does things to see what will happen, in really complete\nignorance of what is likely to happen, may be set down as too much of a\nfool to be the subject of moral judgments.\n\nIt is obvious that an act may be done with many different objects in\nview--I mean real objects, motives. I give money to a beggar whose case\nis one to inspire pity. My motive, my \"vital\" object, may be to relieve\nthe man. But it may equally well be to get rid of him, to gratify my\nself-feeling by becoming the dispenser of bounty, or to inspire\nadmiration in the onlooker. The intention, as I have used the word above,\nis to relieve the beggar, with such consequences of the act as may be\nforeseen at the time. Within the limits of this intention, the motive may\nvary widely, and may, in a given instance, be either admirable or\ncontemptible.\n\nIt may be claimed, in answer to this, that the real intention is, in\nevery case, what I have called the motive; that, in the first case, it\nwas to relieve suffering; in the second, to get rid of an annoyance; in\nthe third to satisfy vanity; in the fourth, to be admired.\n\nThe word \"intention,\" thus used, is equivalent to \"motive.\" Popular usage\ngives some sanction to this confusion of the words. We say of a man who\nhas done a questionable act: \"His intentions were good,\" or, \"His motives\nwere good.\" Still, popular usage does not always regard the two\nexpressions as equivalent. To revert to the case of the unhappy Flex. It\ndoes not seem inappropriate to say that the use of a man as a stepping-\nstone was a part of his master's intention. It does appear inappropriate\nto call it the motive or a part of the motive of the whole transaction.\n\nIntention and motive are convenient words to designate the whole object\nchosen and the part of the object which accounts for the choice of the\nwhole. That it is important to distinguish between the two is palpable.\n\nThe intention gives some indication of character. We know something about\na man when we know what kinds of objects he will probably set before\nhimself as aims. But we know more when we know why he chooses these\nobjects rather than others; when we can analyze the complex and can\ndiscover just what elements in it attract him.\n\nWith an increase of our knowledge comes an increased power of control.\nUntil we know a man's motives, we do not really know the man; and until\nwe know the man, our efforts to influence him must be rather blind.\n\nThe search for motives appears to carry us in the direction of the\nsystematization and simplification of the embarrassing wealth of objects\nwhich are actually the goal of human desires and volitions. Man may\ndesire a boundless variety of objects. His motives in desiring them may,\nconceivably, be comparatively few.\n\nIt should be apparent that both intention and motive have ethical\nsignificance. We have our opinion of men capable of harboring certain\nintentions. But we recognize that some men may harbor them with better\nmotives than others. And we can see that a man's intention may be bad,\nand yet his motive, considered in itself, be good. How we are to rate the\nman, morally, becomes rather a nice question.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nFEELING AS MOTIVE\n\n\n49. FEELING. [Footnote: See the notes on this chapter at the end of this\nvolume.]--Two men may recognize with equal clearness the presence of a\ndanger. That recognition may evoke in the one a violent emotion of fear,\nand in the other little or no emotion. Two men may be treated with\nindignity. The one fumes with rage; the other remains calm. It is well\nrecognized that men may be susceptible to emotion in general, or to\ncertain specific emotions, in varying degrees. Knowledge is not always\naccompanied by a marked manifestation of emotion. Thoughts may be clear,\nbut cold. There are, however, natures whose intellectual processes are\nsteeped in emotion. Such men live in an atmosphere of agitation.\n\nLists of the emotions which correspond to the instincts and fundamental\nimpulses of man have been drawn up. In them we find mentioned fear,\ndisgust, wonder, anger, elation, tender feeling, and so forth; phenomena\nwhich, by earlier writers, were classified as \"passions,\" and to which we\nmay conveniently give the name \"feeling.\" We constantly speak of our\nemotions as our \"feelings,\" and we contrast the man of feeling with the\ncoldly intellectual mind in which emotion is at a minimum.\n\nBut it is not alone to such specific emotions as those above-mentioned\nthat we apply the term feeling. Thoughts are agreeable or disagreeable,\npleasurable or painful. So are emotions. The agreeableness or\ndisagreeableness, pleasantness or painfulness, which are the\naccompaniments of thoughts and emotions, have been called by modern\npsychologists their feeling-tone. It is not out of harmony with common\nusage to give them the name of feelings. In so doing we contrast them\nwith knowledge and assimilate them to emotion.\n\nWhether every sensation and every thought gives rise to an emotion of\nsome sort is matter for dispute, as is also the question whether every\nsensation, thought and emotion is tinged with some degree of pleasurable\nor painful feeling. In the absence of conclusive evidence, it is open to\nus to assume that some feeling is always present where there is mental\nactivity of any kind. The feeling may be so faint and evanescent as to\nescape detection, but this does not prove that it is absent.\n\n50. FEELING AND ACTION.--Emotions and feelings of pleasure and pain are\nthe normal accompaniments of the exercise of the instincts and impulses\nof creatures that desire and will. Within limits, we appear to be able to\ntake them as an index of the strength of the desire and the vigor of the\neffort at attainment.\n\nAn act of cruelty is perpetrated. I see it, and it leaves me, perhaps,\ncold and unmoved. In such case, it is hardly expected of me that I should\ntake energetic measures to have the evil-doer punished. The man whose\nface flushes, whose brows descend, whose teeth come together, whose fists\nclench, whose heart beats thickly, at the recognition of an insult, is,\nas a rule, the man from whom we look for vigorous efforts at retaliation.\nThe apathetic creature who _feels_ no resentment is usually expected\nto swallow the indignity. The child who jumps for joy at the sight of a\nnew doll is supposed to desire it eagerly, and to be ready to make\nefforts to obtain it.\n\nBut it is only within limits that this relation between feeling and\naction holds. Men of little emotion may be resolute and prompt to action.\nTheir desires, as evinced by their actions, may be persistent and\neffective. Nor need the individual fix his choice upon the particular\nobject that arouses in him the most feeling. A man may see his fellow-\ncreature destitute, and may shed tears over his pitiable lot. But he will\nnot bequeath his money to him. He will leave it to his son, for whom,\nperhaps, he has no respect and has come to have little affection. And he\nmay leave it to him with regret, knowing that it will be dissipated in\nways which he cannot approve. It has been pointed out with justice that\nthe exercise of many instincts may be accompanied with little feeling;\nand we are all aware of the fact that, as action becomes habitual,\nemotion tends to evaporate and the pleasure of effort and attainment is\napt to be reduced to a minimum.\n\n51. FEELING AS OBJECT.--It is well to keep in mind the distinction\nbetween feeling as a psychic fact present in the mind of the creature\ndesiring and willing, and feeling as the object of desire and will. A man\nin a rage is the victim of a storm of feeling. The thought of the injury\nhe has received and the desire for retaliation by no means exhaust the\ncontents of his mind. But the passion which shakes him is not his\n_object_; that object is revengeful action.\n\nNevertheless, feeling may be made the object of desire and will. One may\nattend a religious or political meeting with the deliberate view of\narousing in one's self certain complex emotions. Poe's gruesome tales are\nread for the sake of the thrill which is produced by the perusal.\nProbably the desire for excitement, for the experiencing of certain vivid\nemotions, has no little to do with the attraction exercised by certain\ncriminal professions. The burglar desires the booty, but he may desire\nsomething more.\n\nEmotions have, as we have seen, their \"tone\" of pleasure or pain. They\nare agreeable or the reverse, and it is palpable that men do not, as a\nrule, deliberately make them the object of desire and will in\nindifference to the fact that they are pleasant or are painful. We do not\nnormally wish to attain to states of mind in which remorse plays a\nprominent part; we do not aim to revel in shame; we do not seek to be\nhaunted with fear. Pleasurable emotions are desired, where desire is set\non emotions at all; and painful emotions are regarded by the mind as\nunwelcome guests. At any rate, this appears to be the rule, and to\ncharacterize the man whom we regard as normal.\n\nThis being the case, it seems natural to ask whether, when we embrace the\n_intention_ of producing in ourselves a given emotion, our\n_motive_ may not be narrower in scope, namely, the attainment of\npleasure? and, when we wish to rid the mind of any emotion, our\n_motive_ may not be the avoidance of pain?\n\nThe adoption of this view would give to the feelings of pleasure and pain\na unique importance. They would be accepted as the only ultimate objects\nof desire and will. By many they have been thus accepted. It has been\ninsisted that objects of every description are chosen only as they arouse\nsome feeling; and that those which promise pleasant feeling are sought\nand those which entail pain are avoided. The general recognition of the\nprimacy of pleasure and pain over our other feelings, over the specific\nemotions mentioned above, is indicated by the fact that ethical writers\nof eminence sometimes make pleasure and pain synonymous with feeling in\ngeneral, passing over other feelings, as though it were not important for\nthe moralist to take them into consideration. The dispute whether the\nproper course for human action to take is prescribed by reason or is\ndictated by feeling often resolves itself into the problem whether we\nshould be guided by reason, or by a consideration of pleasure to be\nattained or pain to be avoided.\n\n52. FREEDOM AS OBJECT.--The acceptance of pleasure and pain as the\nultimate motives of human action seems, at first sight, to be of\ninestimable assistance to us in threading our way through the labyrinth\nof diverse choices made by creatures that desire and will.\n\nBut only at first sight. Even if it be true that every creature seeks\nonly to attain pleasure and to avoid pain, and uses the means it finds to\nhand in the attainment of these ends, the endless diversity of the means\nremains as a thing to reckon with. The knowledge that all men desire\npleasure does not help us a whit in dealing with men, unless we know what\nthings will give pleasure to this man or to that. All men may desire\npleasure; but it remains true that what gives pleasure to the spendthrift\ngives pain to the miser; what appeals to the glutton disgusts a man of\nrefined tastes. If all men were alike and precisely alike, and if their\nnatures were very simple and remained unchanged, the problem of the\ndistribution of pleasures would be vastly simplified.\n\nWhether the pursuit of pleasure and the avoidance of pain may be regarded\nas the only ultimate ends proper to man will be discussed later.\n[Footnote: See chapter xxv.] Here, it is important to insist that so\ngeneral a formula gives us little useful information touching the set of\nthe will either of classes of men or of individuals. This we can attain\nto only as a result of the study of the complex nature of man as revealed\nin the choices which he actually makes. The ends of man are many and\nvarious; some of these ends are accidental, palpably means for the\nattainment of other ends more fundamental, and for them other means of\nattaining the same ends may be substituted. But other ends, and they are\nby no means to be reduced to a single class, appear to belong to the very\nnature of man. In seeking them he is giving expression to the impulses\nwhich make him what he is.\n\nIn so far as these impulses find an unimpeded expression the man is free;\notherwise he is under restraint. Without rendering here a final decision\nupon the importance of the role played in human life by pleasure and\npain, one feels impelled to ask the question whether the goal of a man's\nendeavors may not best be described as _freedom_? Not freedom in the\nabstract, freedom to do anything and everything, but freedom to live the\nlife appropriate to him as man, and as a man of a given type. That this\nfreedom is limited in a variety of ways, by his material environment, by\nthe clashing of impulses within himself, by the conflict of his desires\nwith the will of the social organism in which he finds his place, is\nsufficiently palpable.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nRATIONALITY AND WILL\n\n\n53. THE IRRATIONAL WILL.--As dreams do not consist of an insignificant\nmedley of elements drawn from the experiences of waking life, but, in\nspite of their fantastic character, bear some semblance of ordered\nreality, so the impulses of even the most unintelligent and inconsequent\nof human beings are not wholly chaotic, but differ only in the degree of\ntheir organization from those of the most rational and far-seeing.\n\nWhere there is even a glimmer of intelligence, ends are recognized and\nmeans to their attainment are chosen. Ends are compared, and the\npreference is given to some over others. But, with all this, there may be\nmuch incoherence and planlessness. Men can live somehow without looking\nfar into the future, or keeping well in mind the lessons to be learned\nfrom the past. They can manage to exist in the face of no little short-\nsighted impulsiveness and inconsistency. But it is palpable that they\ncannot, under such circumstances, live as they might live were they more\ntruly rational.\n\nThe individual deficient in foresight and control may, it is true, be\ncarried along and defended from disaster by the presence of these\nqualities in the greater organism of which he is a part. The infant is a\nparasite upon society; it is provided for independently of its own\nefforts. The child would soon come to grief were its ends not chosen by\nothers and its conduct kept under control. And a vast number of persons\nnot children are in much the same position. There is foresight and\nrational purpose somewhere; they profit by it; but of foresight and\nrational purpose they themselves possess but a modicum.\n\nWhere breadth of view is lacking, where the future is unforeseen or\nignored and the past is forgotten, where desires arise and impel to\naction in relative independence of one another, the man seeks today what\ntomorrow he rejects. We can scarcely say that the man chooses. He is the\nscene of independent choices, varied and inconsistent. He is the victim\nof caprice, and appears to us largely the creature of accident, a prey to\nthe impulse which happens to be in his mind at the moment. From such a\nman we cannot look for an adherence to distant aims, and the marshalling\nof the proper means to their attainment. He cannot count upon himself,\nand he cannot be counted upon. That he can play no significant role in\nsuch stable organizations as the state and church is obvious. His desires\nmay be many and varied, but they converge upon no one end. We set him\ndown as irrational.\n\n54. ONE VIEW OF REASON.--Concerning the part played by reason or\nintelligence in the active life of man there has been no little dispute.\n\nIt has been maintained, on the one hand, that reason or intelligence\nserves its whole purpose in holding before the mind all its impulses and\ndesires, revealing their interrelations, and making possible an\nenlightened and deliberate choice from among them. Where the horizon is\nthus extended and mental clarity reigns, the attention can roam unimpeded\nover the whole field, consider the objects of desire in their true\nrelations and compare them with one another. Congruous desires can\nreinforce each other; conflicting desires can be brought face to face,\nand the one or the other can deliberately be dismissed; fundamental and\ndominant desires may assert their supremacy, and give their stamp to far-\nreaching decisions which exercise a control over minor decisions and\nfavor or repress a multitude of desires and volitions.\n\nThe attainment of perfect rationality in this sense is an ideal never\ncompletely realized. No man can hold before his mind all his impulses and\ndesires, see them in their true relations to each other, and come to a\ndecision which will do complete justice to all. But the ideal may be\napproached.\n\nThe reason, in this case, resembles the presiding officer of a\ndeliberative assembly, who insists that all the members shall be heard\nfrom, all proposals seriously considered, and that the ultimate decision\nshall justly represent the true will of the deliberative body as a whole.\nThe specious but fallacious argument is, in the debate, revealed in its\ntrue nature; the obstinate insistence of the individual is not allowed to\nprevail; the loud voice is recognized to be a loud voice and nothing\nmore; fugitive gusts of passion exhaust themselves; the permanent and\nfundamental will of the assembly is revealed in the final vote. It is\nclaimed that, in such a mind, the result is a harmonization and\nunification of the multiplicity of the desires and purposes which, in a\nmind less rational, jostle one another without control, and refuse to\nfall into an ordered system. That the decisions of a rational mind reveal\nboth a unity and a harmony not evinced by a mind short-sighted and\nimpulsive cannot be denied. But it is well to understand clearly what is\nmeant by such unity and harmony.\n\n55. DOMINANT AND SUBORDINATE DESIRES.--Wherever a group of desires fall\ninto a system and work together toward a common end, we have unity. Such\na system may be short-lived, comparatively poor in content, and of no\ngreat significance for a man's life as a whole. It may come into\ncompetition with another similar system, and be displaced by it. An\ninterest that has dominated our minds for a time, and controlled our\ndesires and volitions, may readily give place to different choices. I may\nsuccessively bend all my energies upon the winning of a game, the doing\nof a successful stroke of business, the defeat of a social rival, the\nsuccess of a philanthropic undertaking. There is no normal human being\nwho does not exhibit such limited volitional units. The most idle and\npurposeless of vagrants, the most scatter-brained school-boy, the most\nvolatile coquette, may, for a time, be dominated by some desire which\ncalls into its service other desires and thus realizes some chosen end.\n\nSuch volitional units do not, however, go far toward unifying the efforts\nof a life. It is only when some dominant and deep-seated desire, oft\nrecurring, not easily displaced by others, sweeps into its train the\nother desires of a man, establishing a sovereignty and exacting\nsubservience, that such an effect is accomplished. Then the lesser units\nfall into a significant relation to each other as constituent elements in\nthe greater unit. The life, as such, may be said to have a purpose; it\nstrives toward a single goal.\n\nWhatever bears upon the attainment of such a dominant purpose may,\nhowever trivial in itself, acquire a vital importance and be eagerly\ndesired. To a man of mature mind there can be little interest in hitting\na small ball with a stick, abstractly considered. Nor is the dropping of\na bit of paper into a box with a slit in it an action in itself\ncalculated to stir profound emotion. But if the hitting of the ball in\nthe right way marks the critical point in winning an eagerly contested\ngame of golf, the interest in it may be absorbing. And if the bit of\npaper is an offer of marriage committed to the post, the hand may tremble\nand the heart leap in the breast. A dominant desire may create or\nreinforce other desires to a degree to which it is not easy to set\nlimits.\n\n56. THE HARMONIZATION OF DESIRES.--And it may actively repress other\ndesires or cause them to dwindle and disappear. A man possessed by a\ndevouring ambition may resolutely scorn delights to which he would\notherwise be keenly susceptible, or he may simply ignore them without\neffort. The attention, fixed upon some chosen end, and busied with the\nmeans to its attainment, may leave them unheeded. Finding no place in the\nvolitional pattern that occupies the mind, they are cast aside and soon\nforgotten.\n\nIn so far, hence, as the desires of a man tend to fall thus into groups\nconverging upon a single end, we find not merely unity but harmony. The\nvolitional pattern is of a given kind, and the colors which enter into it\nare selected.\n\nWhen, however, we speak of the desires of a rational mind as harmonized,\nwe do not mean that incompatible desires are reconciled. One cannot laugh\nand drink at the same time, nor can the desire for luxurious ease be made\nto fall upon the neck of the desire for attainment through strenuous\neffort. The final harmony attained resembles in some respects the peace\nenforced by the violent character depicted by Mark Twain, who would have\npeace at any price, and was willing to sacrifice to it the life and limb\nof the opposing party. The cessation of strife does not imply the\nsatisfaction of all parties to a contest; nor does the fact that a life\nis controlled by a ruling motive, which reinforces or calls into being\ncertain desires and robs others of their insistence, imply that by any\ndevice all the desires which man has, still less all that he, as a human\nbeing, might have, can find their satisfaction. Harmony is obtained at\nthe price of the suppression of many desires; but, where a mind is\nstrongly dominated by a comprehensive volitional unit, the price may be\npaid without much regret.\n\n57. VARIETIES OF DOMINANT ENDS.--Obviously, the comprehensive and\nharmonious volitional complexes which may come to characterize different\nminds may be of very different complexion. Peace of mind, the bubble\nreputation, the amassing of a fortune, a happy domestic life,\nhumanitarian effort, the perfecting of one's character--each may become\nthe controlling end which furthers or inhibits individual desires and\nemotions. Or the ends may be such as to appear to most men far more\ninsignificant. To the collection of first editions or the heaping\ntogether of bric-a-brac a man may sacrifice his financial security and\nthe welfare of his family. Naturally, the moralist cannot put all such\nends upon the same level; but, from the point of view of the\npsychologist, the processes which take place in the minds thus unified\nand harmonized are essentially the same.\n\n58. AN OBJECTION ANSWERED.--To the position that it is reason or\nintelligence that brings about this unity and harmony an objection may be\nbrought. It may be claimed that breadth of information and clarity of\nvision are quite compatible with highly inconsistent action revealing the\ntemporary dominance of a succession of incongruous desires.\n\n_Video meliora proboque, deteriora sequor_, confessed the Latin\npoet. Have we not seen men of the highest intelligence, gifted with\nforesight, quite capable of grasping the relation of means to ends,\nnevertheless subject to the baleful influence of momentary desires which\ndrive them hither and thither like a rudderless bark at the mercy of the\nwind and tide? How does it happen that their intelligence does not help\nthem?\n\nTo this we may answer that it is not the same thing to possess\nintelligence and to use it. One may be supplied with information and\nquite capable of taking long views and embracing inclusive ends--and the\nattention may be so preoccupied with the desire of the moment, that the\nvoices of others are stifled. In so far as this is the case, the man can\nnot, at the time, be said to be reasonable or intelligent. He has\ninformation, and acts as if he were ignorant; his choices do not issue as\na resultant of his desires as a whole; there is no resultant; the single\ndesires make their influence felt separately.\n\nTo be sure, an insistent and oft-recurring desire may introduce a good\ndeal of unity and harmony into life, even where long views are not taken\nand there is little intelligence. The stupid egoist may become rather a\nconsistent egoist, and increasingly so as he grows older. His desires and\nvolitions may converge upon an end of which he is very imperfectly\nconscious; incompatible desires may come to be repressed. But this does\nnot refute the position that, when reason or intelligence is supreme, the\nattention is directed upon a wide range of desires, they are weighed in\nthe light of each other, and the ultimate decision is no longer blind,\nbut fairly expresses the permanent push of the man's nature. Even where a\ndesire or group of desires, unilluminated by intelligence, seems so\ninsistent as to take on something of this character, complete unity and\nharmony of action may be lacking, due to the short-sightedness of the\nmethods employed to attain to the chosen goal. Blind desires may easily\ndefeat their own ends; wealth does not necessarily accumulate in\nproportion to a man's miserliness; the ardent but unenlightened\nphilanthropist may do his fellow-man more harm than good. Long views are\nof no little service in weeding out inconsistent actions and introducing\norder and unity into life.\n\n59. THIS VIEW OF REASON MISCONCEIVED.--In the above view of the function\nof reason or intelligence it has not been represented as issuing commands\nto perform certain actions rather than others, nor as furnishing motives\nnot in some way related to the impulses and desires of man. It has been\ntreated, literally, as the presiding officer of a public assembly, who\ninsists that every voice shall be heard; that all proposals shall be\nweighed and compared with one another; that the consequences of all shall\nbe clearly foreseen. Its function is enlightenment; the driving force\nwhich impels to action of any sort has been found in the impulses and the\ndesires.\n\nIt is possible to set this view forth in terms which make it highly\nunpalatable.\n\nThus Hume, who has a weakness for shocking the susceptibilities of the\nconservative and the sober-minded, startles us with the remark that\n\"Reason is, and ought only to be, the slave of the passions.\" [Footnote:\nA Treatise of Human Nature, iv, Sec 3.] This doctrine, taken as the average\nreader is almost inevitably impelled to take it, seems worthy of instant\nreprobation. It appears to degrade the rational in man and to exalt the\nblind and irrational.\n\nBut it is not fair to the doctrine to set it forth in such terms. There\nis no small difference between random and fugitive desires and those more\nfundamental desires that express truly the nature of a man. Desires\norganized and harmonized gain great strength, and are enabled to overcome\nand expel from the mind erratic impulses, the obedience to which may\neasily be followed by regret. Action taken without a clear foresight of\nconsequences, with an imperfect conception of the relation of means to\nends, is blind and irrational action. Reason, as bringing enlightenment,\nas making possible deliberation, as turning the incoherent clamors of a\nmob of inconsistent desires into the authoritative voice of an orderly\ndeliberative assembly, is not a faculty to be lightly regarded.\n\nNor should it be forgotten that, neither to the plain man, nor to the\nmoralist, do desires all stand upon the same level. He who bends his\nintellectual energies to the satisfaction of his greed, his avarice, his\nlonging for revenge, may fairly be said to be prostituting his mind to\nthe service of passion. But is it a proper use of language to describe as\nthe slave of his passions the man whose thought is set upon the\nenlightenment of mankind, the alleviation of suffering, the service of a\nstate, the attainment of a noble character? Were Socrates, St. Francis,\nAbraham Lincoln, Wilberforce, Thomas Hill Green, the slaves of their\npassions? Yet these men were moved by certain dominant desires, and their\nunswerving pursuit of their goal was made possible only by the reason\nthat harmonized their lives and substituted deliberate purpose for random\nimpulse.\n\nThe doctrine, then, that the reason is to be likened rather to the\npresiding officer of a deliberative assembly, concerned only to give\nevery voice a fair hearing, than to a legislator issuing commands\nindependently, may be so stated as not to shock the sober-minded.\n\nAnd the doctrine recommends itself in showing that reason and inclination\nor desire are not enemies. The possession of reason must lead to the\nsuppression of some desires--those incompatible with a comprehensive\npurpose deliberately embraced; but the desires and the reason or\nintelligence work together to a common end. On this view, it is not the\nrational man who is divided against himself; it is the short-sighted, the\nimpulsive, the inconsistent, the irrational man. He is the prey of\nwarring desires whose strife leads to no permanent peace under the\nguidance of reason.\n\n60. ANOTHER VIEW OF REASON.--To certain minds this view of reason as the\narbiter and reconciler of man's impulses and desires does not appeal.\n\nThus, Kant, whose doctrine will be more fully considered later,\n[Footnote: Chapter xxix.] holds that man's reason promulgates a law which\ntakes no account of the impulses and desires of man. Thus, also, Henry\nSidgwick, who differs from Kant in making the attainment of happiness the\ngoal of human endeavor, and who, consequently, is not tempted to\ndisregard the desires of man, yet refers to the reason independently\ncertain maxims, which he regards as self-evident, touching our own good\nand the good of our neighbor. [Footnote: _The Methods of Ethics_,\nchapter iii.]\n\nThere are certain considerations which appear to favor the view that the\nreason is a faculty which may be regarded as an independent law-giver. A\nman may be possessed of great intelligence; he may be well-informed,\nacute in his reasonings, and consistent in his strivings to attain some\ncomprehensive end, which, on the whole, appears congruous to his nature,\nsuch as it is. Yet we may regard him as highly unreasonable. Judged by\nsome higher standard which we look upon as approved by reason, he is\nfound to fall short. Is reason, then, synonymous with intelligence? Or is\nit something more--the source of an ultimate standard of action,\nintuitively known, and by which all man's actions must be judged? Upon\nthis question light will be thrown in the pages following.\n\n\n\n\nPART V\n\nTHE SOCIAL WILL\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nCHARACTERISTICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL\n\n\n61. WHAT IS THE SOCIAL WILL?--The social will is not a mysterious entity,\nseparate and distinct from all individual wills. It is their resultant.\nThe resultant of two or more physical forces is a force; it has a\ncharacter and may be described. The resultant of individual wills in\ninteraction is a will with a given character which it is of no small\nimportance for the moralist to comprehend. This will presents aspects\nclosely analogous to those presented by the will of the individual.\n\nThus, to begin with, a community of men may be said to will a vast number\nof things which have never been made by the members of the community the\nobject of conscious reflection. It may unthinkingly move along the groove\nmade for it by tradition. It may be intellectually upon so low a plane\nthat even the possibility of acting in other ways does not occur to it.\nNevertheless, ways of action thus unthinkingly pursued cannot properly be\nsaid to be beyond the voluntary control of the community. A new situation\nmay draw attention to the fact that they are unsatisfactory, lead to\ncritical examination, to inhibition, to deliberate change. Between the\npassive acceptance of actions prescribed by tradition and deliberate\nconscious choice in the presence of recognized alternatives there is no\nclear line of demarcation.\n\nUnder the pressure of circumstances or with the gradual increase of\ninformation and intelligence the traditional may undergo slight\nmodifications which scarcely rank as conscious departures from what has\nbeen passively accepted. The algebraic sum of such departures may, with\nthe lapse of time, come to be by no means insignificant, yet no\nindividual may have exercised in any considerable degree conscious\nreflection or shown in any large measure freedom of choice.\n\nOn the other hand, the social will may, at times, reveal itself in\ndeliberate decisions, preceded by much conscious deliberation, and\ninitiating wide departures from established usage. The presence of new\nenemies or a diminution of the food-supply may awake a primitive\ncommunity from its lethargy, leading it to modify its habits and adjust\nitself to new conditions. A barbarous horde may set out upon a career of\nconquest, and may introduce revolutionary changes into its manner of\nlife. A civilized nation may come to the conclusion that, in the course\nof human events, it has become necessary for it to dissolve the bands\nwhich have held it to another nation; it may frame for itself an\nindependent constitution, embodying new ideals and prescribing a new form\nof corporate life.\n\nBut, as in the case of the individual, so in that of the community, the\ntendency to fall again into a rut is always apparent. Laws, once enacted,\nlend a passive resistance to change, even when they no longer serve well\nthe ends they were intended to serve. The independence of thought and\naction revealed in the adoption of new constitutions are not conspicuous\nin their maintenance. Man collective, as well as man individual, falls\ninto habits, and he commits to his unthinking self what was wrought out\nby himself as thinking and consciously choosing. Passive acceptance of\nthe traditional again wins the day and becomes a ruling factor in action.\n[Footnote: \"It is indisputable that much the greatest part of mankind has\nnever shown a particle of desire that its civil institutions should be\nimproved since the moment when external completeness was first given to\nthem by their embodiment in some permanent record.\" MAINE, _Ancient\nLaw_, chapter ii.]\n\nThis tendency to mechanization should not surprise us, for we meet with\nthe phenomenon everywhere. The man who says, \"Good-by\" today does not\nmean \"God be with thee,\" and the \"Gruss Dich Gott\" of the Bavarian\npeasant is very properly translated by the American child as \"Hallo.\" The\ntraditional tends to lose or to alter its meaning, but it continues to\nserve a purpose. A community without traditions, without settled ways of\nacting, followed, for the most part, without much reflection, would be in\nthe position of a man without habits either good or bad. Human life as we\nknow it could not go on upon such a basis. The rule has, at times, its\ninconveniences; but it leads somewhere, at least; whereas he who plunges\ninto the unexplored forest may find every step a problem, and may come\neven to doubt whether any step is a step in advance.\n\n62. SOCIAL WILL AND SOCIAL HABITS.--Within the province of the social\nwill fall what may not inaptly be called the habits of a community--ways\nof acting acquired largely without premeditation and followed to a great\nextent through mere inertia. The province of the social will is a broad\none. Deliberate choices; those half-conscious choices analogous to the\nunheeded expressions of preference which fill the days of the individual;\nimpulses and tendencies which scarcely emerge into the light--all are\nexpressions of the social will.\n\nIn the next chapter I shall distinguish between customs proper and social\nhabits in a broader sense. But, in discussing the general problem of the\nrelation of habit to will, it is not necessary to mark the distinction.\n\nSome habits rest upon us lightly; some are inveterate. Of some we are\nwell aware; others have to be pointed out to us before we recognize that\nwe have them. Some we approve, some we disapprove, to some we are\nindulgent or indifferent. All these peculiarities are found in the\nrelation of the social will to social habits. It may recognize them,\napprove of them, encourage them. It may pay them little attention. It may\ndisapprove them and strive to repress them. Will has brought them into\nbeing; it is will that maintains them; it is will that must modify or\nsuppress them.\n\nAs a matter of fact, all communities do tend to change their habits, some\nmore slowly, some more rapidly. And for its habits we hold a community\nresponsible. Common sense refers them to its will, and exercises approval\nor disapproval. This it would not do were the practices upon which\njudgment is passed recognized as beyond the control of will altogether.\n\n63. SOCIAL WILL AND SOCIAL ORGANIZATION.--Under the general heading of\nthe habits of a society it is not out of place to discuss its social and\npolitical organization.\n\nThe fact that there never was an original social contract, made with each\nother by men solitary and unrelated, with the deliberate intent of\nputting an end to the war of all against all, does not signify that the\nsocial state in which men find themselves is a something with which the\nhuman will has had, and has, nothing to do.\n\nSocial and political organization are the result of a secular process,\nbut behind that process, as moving and directing forces, stand the will\nand the intelligence of man. The social and political organization of a\ncommunity is not the creation of any single generation of men. Each\ngeneration is born into a given social setting, as the individual is born\ninto the setting furnished by the community. This social setting, the\nheritage of the community from the past, may be compared to a great\nestate brought together by the efforts of a man's ancestors, and\ntransmitted to him to hold intact, to add to, to squander, as he may be\ninclined. It is a product attained by man's nature in its struggle with\nenvironment, and that product may be modified by the same forces that\nmade it what it is.\n\nInto this heritage the generation of men who compose a community at any\ngiven time may enter with little thought of its significance, with no\ninformation, or with false information, touching the manner of its coming\ninto being, and with small inclination to do anything save to leave\nunchanged the institutions of which it finds itself possessed.\nNevertheless, the forms under which societies are organized are subject\nto the social will, and, if disapproved, are modified or abolished. Some\nchange is taking place even where there is apparent immobility, as\nbecomes evident when the history of institutions is followed through long\nperiods of time. The utmost that can be said is that, where intelligence\nis little developed and energy at a low ebb, the social will may bear the\nstamp of passive acceptance of the inherited, rather than exhibit a\ntendency to innovation. _Will_ it remains, but we may hesitate to\ndescribe it as a _free will_.\n\nIt is at times forced upon our attention with unmistakable emphasis that\nthe forms of social and political organization are under voluntary\ncontrol. Momentous changes may be made deliberately, and with full\nconsciousness of their significance. Among the more progressive nations\nin our day the duty of introducing innovations appears to be generally\nrecognized: constitutions are amended; the status of social classes is\nmade the object of legislation; even the domain of the family is invaded,\nas in legislation touching marriage and divorce. Men appear to feel\nthemselves free to will deliberately the end that shall be served by the\nmechanism of the state, and to adapt that mechanism to the attainment of\nthe end chosen.\n\n64. THE SOCIAL WILL AND IDEAL ENDS.--The social will, like the wall of\nthe individual, may manifest itself in decisions which it is obviously\nimpossible to carry out to a completely successful issue. A community has\na power of control over its members, but that control has its limits.\nEven a man's actions cannot be completely controlled by the community of\nwhich he is a part. There are always individuals who violate rules, and\nto whom, as it would seem, no motive can be presented which is adequate\nto keep them in the rut prescribed by society.\n\nStill less can the social will exercise full control over men's thoughts\nand feelings. Influenced to some degree they may be. A man may be kept in\nignorance, or furnished with information calculated to determine his\nthought in a given direction. His emotions may be played upon; he may be\nexhorted, rewarded, punished. But thoughts and feelings are not open to\ndirect inspection; they may be concealed or simulated. Much more readily\nthan actions can they withdraw themselves from control.\n\nNevertheless, the social will may, and does, ignore all such limitations\nto its powers. Laws are not passed to regulate the changes of the\nweather, which palpably fall outside the province of the law; but they\nare passed to regulate the actions of men, which normally fall within it;\nthat is, which can, to a very significant degree, be influenced by the\nattitude of the social will. For the same reason laws may even take\ncognizance of men's thoughts. Of the accidental limitations of its power\nof control within the general sphere in which it has a meaning to speak\nof control, the social will is not compelled to take cognizance. It may\nset itself to encourage or repress certain types of character and\nconduct, and take measures to attain the end it has selected. That the\nmeasures taken should sometimes prove inadequate does not alter the fact\nof the choice of an end, nor does it obscure the revelation of the trend\nof the social will.\n\nThus, a community may be said to will that its members shall not be\nguilty of violence; it may will to live at peace with other communities;\nit may will to conquer and subjugate. Whether, in each case, the will\nshall be completely realized or not, may not be determined by the mere\nfact of its willing. Nevertheless, the permanent volitional attitude may\nbe unmistakably present, and may reveal itself in strivings toward the\nchosen goal. To describe this attitude as no more than wishing is\nmanifestly to do it an injustice.\n\n65. THE PERMANENT SOCIAL WILL.--The social will may be regarded as\nsomething permanent. Its existence is not confined to those moments in\nwhich collective decisions are being made. The will to be one which\nconstitutes a group of human beings a nation is not at all times actively\nexercised, but the settled disposition to action looking toward that end\nmay be always present and ready to be called into action. An autocracy\nremains such when its irresponsible head is making no decisions; and a\ndemocracy is not such only while elections are being held or the\nlegislature is sitting. The organization of a society, the whole body of\nthe usages which it accepts and approves, are revelations of the social\nwill. That will does, it is true, give expression to itself in a series\nof actual decisions more or less conscious and deliberate, but it is far\nmore than any such series of decisions. It is a disposition, rooted in\nthe past and reaching into the future. It is a guarantee of decisions to\ncome, of whose nature we may make some forecast.\n\nThe permanent social will constitutes the _character_ of a\ncommunity. Our study of the will of the individual prepares us for the\nrecognition of the fact that communities may be but dimly aware of their\nown character, and may be quite unable to give an unbiased account of the\nideals which animate them.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\nEXPRESSIONS OF THE SOCIAL WILL\n\n\n66. CUSTOM.--We have seen above that even the forms of political and\nsocial organization may justly be regarded as an expression of the social\nwill. Such forms are the result of past choices, and their acceptance in\nthe present is evidence of present choice.\n\nBetween the organization of a society and its customs proper we may\ndistinguish by comparing the former to structure and the latter to\nfunction in the case of any organism. But we must bear in mind that,\nhere, structure has been built up by, and is in process of modification\nby, the same forces that exhibit themselves in function. It would not be\nwholly out of place to describe a people as having the custom of being\nruled by hereditary chiefs, of choosing their monarchs, or of governing\nthemselves through elected representatives. Forms of organization are\nhanded down to successive generations by the same social tradition that\ntransmits customs of every description.\n\nCustoms are public habits which are, on the whole, approved by a\ncommunity. They are ways of acting which are regarded as normal and\nproper. Where the authority of custom is evoked, pressure is brought to\nbear upon the individual to adjust himself to the will of the community.\n\nA community, like an individual, may have habits which it does not\napprove. Such may be tolerated, although disapproved; or active efforts\nmay be made to set them aside. Some habits may be regarded with\ncomparative indifference, although professedly held in condemnation. The\nindividual, in following such habits, may claim that they are not\nunequivocally condemned by the community, and he is not conscious of the\nweight of displeasure which visits the violation of the will of the\ncommunity when unequivocally expressed.\n\nIn simple and primitive societies custom prescribes to the individual his\ncourse of life in the minutest detail. It possesses the authority of the\ndictator. In societies upon a higher level it may leave to him some\ndiscretion in deciding upon the details of his daily life, while still\nexercising a paramount control over the general trend of his actions.\n\nThus the will of the community, expressed in custom, determines what the\nmembers of the community _ought_ to do, and it takes measures to\nenforce obedience to its decisions. Is it surprising that the names which\nhave been given to the science which treats of man's rights and duties,\n_morals, ethics_ (_mores, ethica, Sitten_), should reflect this\ntruth? It would be an inadequate statement to maintain that the science\nof morals is no more than a systematic exposition of the customary in\nhuman societies. It is not an inadequate statement to assert that, in\nmany societies, custom has, in fact, furnished the ultimate and complete\nstandard of obligation, and that in all societies it is of enormous\nsignificance in moulding men's notions of right and wrong.\n\n67. THE GROUND FOR THE AUTHORITY OF CUSTOM.--Habits are as essential to a\nsociety as they are to an individual human being. Without them, society\ncould not live. In any social state--and no man can live except in a\nsocial state--there must be cooperation. How can there be cooperation if\nthere are no social habits upon which men may count in their dealings\nwith one another?\n\nTry to conceive all the tacit mutual conventions, the unconscious\nadaptations to custom, which guide our daily lives, suspended for twenty-\nfour hours. When should one rise in the morning? How should one dress?\nWhat and how should one eat? Of business there could be no question, nor\ncould there be cooperation in pleasures. Public order there could not be,\nfor there would be no public worthy of the name. Protection of life and\nlimb would be the creature of accident. Between civility and insult there\nwould be no recognizable distinction. In short, men could not behave\neither well or ill, for there would be no rule to follow or to violate,\nnothing to expect, and, hence, no ground for disappointment.\n\nIn such a chaotic condition no society of men has ever lived. No actual\nstate of anarchy has ever been complete, nor could it be, and endure. A\n\"reign of terror\" is a reign of law in comparison with such a dissolution\nof all the bonds which knit man to man. When we pass from one community\nto another, we find one set of public habits exchanged for another. Some\nsets impress us as better, some as worse. But there is no set which is\nnot better than none. It makes it possible for men to live, if not to\nlive well.\n\nCustoms are, then, a necessity. It is equally necessary that they should,\nin general, have binding force for the individual. But there are customs\ngood and bad. The individual may fall into habits which he, upon\nreflection, concludes to be injurious to him, and which others see\nclearly to be injurious. A community sufficiently enlightened to\ncriticize itself at all, may come to disapprove some of its customs and\nmay endeavor to abolish them.\n\nThis means that a new act of the social will may set itself in opposition\nto the social will already crystallized into custom. In a given instance,\nand where there are differences of opinion, it may be a nice question\nwhether the new or the old should be regarded as the authoritative\nexpression of the social will.\n\n68. THE ORIGIN AND THE PERSISTENCE OF CUSTOMS.--From the fact that\ncustoms are, in general, to be regarded as expressions of the social\nwill, it might be assumed that their purposive character and social\nutility should be a sufficient explanation of their coming into being.\nBut the matter is not so simple. A man may fall into habits which are no\nindication of what he regards as useful to him. Such habits have not been\nformed independently of his will, and yet they may appear to be\npurposeless, or even detrimental. Who wishes to have the inveterate habit\nof cracking the joints of his fingers or of biting his finger-nails? What\npurpose do such habits serve?\n\nAlthough the social utility of customs, taken generally, is easily\napparent, yet there are many customs which seem inexplicable upon such a\nprinciple. Why, for example, should the king of a primitive community be\nprohibited from sleeping lying down? or why should it be forbidden that\nhe gaze upon the sea? [Footnote: _Encyclopedia Britannica_, Eleventh\nedition, article \"Taboo.\"] The origin of such customs is hidden in\nobscurity. That their adoption was not without its reason, we may assume.\nThat the reason was a reasonable one cannot be maintained. It seems\nprobable, however, that it at some time seemed reasonable to some one.\nThe persistence of habit, social as well as individual, would account for\nthe perpetuation of the custom long after the occasion which gave rise to\nit had been forgotten.\n\n69. LAW.--Between custom and law, taken generally, it is by no means easy\nto draw a sharp distinction, although, in some instances, the\ndistinction, may be clearly marked. In primitive communities, laws\nreduced to writing, and administered by persons deliberately chosen for\nthat end, may be wholly lacking; and yet who would say that such\ncommunities do not live under the reign of law in a broad sense of the\nterm? A course of life is prescribed to the individual; failure to come\nup to the standard meets with punishment.\n\nNevertheless, as social life rises in the scale and as communities become\ndeveloped, custom and law become differentiated. The latter stands out\nupon the background of the former as something more sharply defined.\nPenalties and the method of their infliction are more exactly fixed. Not\nall violations of what is customary are taken up into the legal code as\npunishable offences, although they meet with that indefinite measure of\npunishment entailed by social disapproval.\n\nThose public habits which it seems to a community it is of especial\nimportance to preserve and enforce come to be embodied in laws. The\nselection is a matter of more or less deliberate choice, and is an\nexpression of will. The choice is not, normally, an arbitrary one. The\nlaws of a people are, unless accident has intervened, the outcome and\nexpression of its corporate life. For their ultimate authority they rest\nupon the acquiescence of the social will. Laws contrary to deep-seated\nand widely accepted custom are not apt to be regarded as of binding\nforce. They are felt to be tyrannous, and are obeyed, if at all,\nunwillingly, and because of pressure from without.\n\nIn a later chapter [Footnote: Chapter XX.] I shall dwell upon the fact\nthat the accidental may play a very significant role in law. In given\ninstances the laws of a community may be, not the outcome of its will in\nany sense, but something imposed upon it. Such laws cannot but be felt to\nbe oppressive and a restriction of freedom.\n\nLaws, like customs, may cease to have a significance, and they may be\nmodified or allowed to fall into desuetude. There is, however, much\nconservatism, as all who are familiar with legal usage know. And laws may\nfail of their purpose. They may aim to diminish crime, and their\nundiscriminating severity may foster crime. So may the individual select\nan end, fall into error in his choice of means, and, as a result of\nexperience, resolve to substitute for such means others which are better\nadapted to carry out his purpose.\n\n70. PUBLIC OPINION.--Public opinion is manifestly a force broader and\nmore vague than established custom, and still broader than law. Public\nopinion may approve or condemn what no law touches, and it makes its\ninfluence felt beyond the sphere of what is customary.\n\nWhere customs and laws come to be imperfect expressions of the social\nwill, they may stand condemned by public opinion. In such a case their\nauthority is undermined and violations of them are condoned. Where public\nopinion is strongly against a law; the law becomes ineffective. The\nconservatism of law is such that a law may be allowed to stand unchanged,\nand yet may fail to be carried into effect. Juries may refuse to convict,\nor the unpalatable infliction of punishment may be avoided by granting to\nthe judge a wide discretion in pronouncing sentence.\n\nThe gradual development of a strong public sentiment may lead to the\npassage of new laws, not based upon previously established customs, but\ndeliberately framed with a view to the public weal. Old customs may be\nmodified and new customs may be introduced. That the recommendations of\npublic opinion extend beyond the sphere of the customary is manifest. It\nis not the custom of most men to leave any large part of their estate to\npublic charity. Except in the case of the very rich, the failure to do so\nis not, as a rule, expressly condemned. Yet such bequests are approved,\nthe testators are praised, and the attitude of public opinion has no\nsmall influence upon the conduct of individuals. Again, extreme self-\nsacrifice is not customary; it is exceptional; and yet shining examples\nof unselfishness excite a warm sympathy. The expression of this sympathy\nis not without its influence.\n\nPublic opinion is more palpably an expression of the actual social will\nthan are custom and law. We have seen that the last two may represent, in\ngiven instances, rather the inherited will of the past than the living\nwill of the present. But when we call public opinion an expression of the\nsocial will we cannot mean that it necessarily reflects the sentiment of\nall the members of a given community.\n\nIn primitive communities custom may be a public habit which embraces all,\nor nearly all, individuals. Public opinion may scarcely have a separate\nexistence. In communities more developed, some individuals may disapprove\nand refuse to follow many customs which are characteristic of the society\nto which they belong. Laws are not approved by all, and, in progressive\nstates, there is usually some agitation which has as its object the\nrepeal of old laws or the passage of new ones. In communities where there\nis independence of thought, public opinion is usually divided.\n\nFurthermore, the communities to which civilized men belong are not\nhomogeneous aggregations of units. There is the public opinion which\nobtains within single groups within the state. The adherents of a\nreligious sect may have notions peculiar to themselves of the conduct\nproper to the individual, and such notions may extend far beyond what is\nactually prescribed by the tenets of the sect. The several trades and\nprofessions, the social classes, neighborhoods, even lesser voluntary\nassociations of men, such as clubs, may be pervaded by a public sentiment\nwhich varies with each group. When we speak of public opinion generally\nwe have in mind something broader, a resultant. But the public sentiment\nof the lesser groups cannot be ignored. The individual feels himself\nespecially influenced by the opinions of those most nearly associated\nwith him.\n\nUnder the head of public opinion it is convenient to speak of the\nopinions of moral teachers who have influenced the race. Such a thinker\nmay enunciate truths far in advance of the opinions of his fellows. His\nteachings are not, hence, fairly representative of the social will as it\nreveals itself in his time. But the sentiments of the more enlightened\nnever are completely in accord with those of the mass of their fellows.\nThey are not mere aberrations from the social will; they are its\nforerunners. The moralist and the religious teacher initiate new choices,\nwhich may become the choices of large bodies of men. From them proceed\ninfluences which have their issue in new expressions of the social will,\ncharacterizing whole societies, and giving birth to new customs, new\nlaws, and a new form of public opinion. One can scarcely imagine what\nChina would be without her Confucius; or the Arabic world, with Mahomet\nabstracted.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\nTHE SHARERS IN THE SOCIAL WILL\n\n\n71. THE COMMUNITY.--It is difficult to state with absolute exactness what\nconstitutes a community.\n\nWe may define it as a group of human beings associated in a common life,\ndepending upon and cooperating with each other. This definition will\napply, to be sure, to lesser groups within a tribe or state; and even to\na collection of tribes or states in so far as such enter into alliances\nand cooperate to their mutual advantage. As, however, the bond of union\nis, in the former case, subordinate to the higher authority of a larger\ngroup (for the family is subject to the tribe or state); and as, in the\nlatter case, the bond of union is a relatively loose one, and evidently\nsubordinate to that which binds the citizens of individual states, the\ncommunity proper may be regarded as that group which is characterized by\na relatively great degree of inner coherence and by relative external\nindependence.\n\nThe type of such communities is, among the more primitive peoples, the\ntribe, and among the more developed, the state. The authority of such\ngroups over their own members is, theoretically, paramount, although it\nmay be suspended or abolished by the exertion of force from without.\n\nSuch a community may be said to be inspired by a social will expressed in\nits customs, its laws and the public opinion prevalent in it. Its members\nmay be said to be sharers in the social will of the community. Their\nparticipation in it is marked by their being endowed with rights and\ncharged with duties.\n\nIt has not been characteristic of communities generally that all who find\ntheir place in them should be like sharers in the social will. The\ndistinction has been made between the citizen, who enjoys the fullest\nrights and may, perhaps, directly take part in the government of the\nstate, and those who, while _in_ the state, are not _of_ it, as\nthey do not enjoy citizenship. Where slavery, in any of its forms, has\nprevailed, the distinction between those who are significant factors in\ndetermining the social will, and those who have not this prerogative, has\nbeen very marked. Social classes have often enjoyed, even before the law,\nprivileges of great moment. Women have, as a rule, not been treated as\ncitizens, and have been refused a share in the government of the\ncommunity. Children are cared for and are protected, but political rights\nare denied them. Their status before the law is a peculiar one. The\nmentally defective, both in primitive communities and in developed ones,\nstand in a relation to the community peculiar to themselves. They are not\nexcluded from it; they are accorded rights; but they are assigned in the\ncommunity a place of their own. Wherever we look, we find inequality. The\nsharers in the social will do not share equally, nor do they share in the\nsame way. This is true of communities of every description, but the\ndifferences are more marked in some than in others.\n\n72. THE COMMUNITY AND THE DEAD.--It is not merely of the living human\nbeings which compose a community that the social will takes cognizance.\nOther wills are made participants in the body of rights and duties\npeculiar to the community.\n\nIn many communities the dead are still counted among its members. They\nare conceived as affecting its welfare, and as demanding services from\nthe living. Duties towards the dead are a well-recognized division of the\nsum of a man's obligations in communities the most diverse in their\ncharacter. In some, they occupy a very prominent place; in no community\nare they wholly overlooked. A striking illustration of the recognition by\nthe social will of the rights of the dead is to be found in the whole\nmodern law of testamentary succession. The will expressed by a man while\nhe is alive is given effect as though he were still in the flesh and\ninsisted upon the fulfillment of his desire. It appears to work as a\npermanent factor in the community life, making its influence felt for\ngenerations. Witness its influence in charitable foundations, in the law\nof entail, and the like.\n\n73. THE COMMUNITY AND THE SUPERNATURAL.--Nor is it merely in recognizing\nthe wills of the dead that the social will extends its sphere beyond the\ncommunity of living human beings. To primitive man, and to man far from\nprimitive, his social environment has not seemed to be limited to the\nliving and the dead who have, or who have had, an undeniable and\nunequivocal place in the community.\n\nThe part played in the life of man by supernatural beings of various\norders has been a most significant one. Demons and gods, spirits of a\nlower or of a higher order, have occupied his mind and have influenced\nhis actions. Such beings have been conceived to be, sometimes, malevolent\nand needing to be placated, sometimes, benevolent and fit objects of\ngratitude. Their wills man has regarded as forces to be taken into\naccount, a something to which the individual and the community must\nadjust themselves.\n\nMan's relation, or supposed relation, to such beings has been a source of\nclasses of duties upon which great stress has been laid. The influence of\nthis admission of supernatural beings into the circle of those directly\nconcerned in the community life has found its expression in the\norganization of the state, in custom, in law, in public opinion. We know\nlittle of a community when we overlook this factor.\n\nBetween magic and religion it is not easy to draw a sharp line,\nespecially when we view religion in the lower stages of its development.\nIn both we have to do with what may be called the supernatural. Magic has\nbeen defined as the employment of mechanical means to attain the desired\nend. In religion, when it so far develops that its specific character\nseems clearly revealed, we have left the sphere of the mechanical.\n\nThe distinction between the mechanical and the spiritual is familiar to\nus in our dealings with our fellow-men. In such dealings we may employ\nphysical force. On the other hand, we may appeal to their intelligence\nand their emotions, and thus influence their action. In so far as we do\nnot make such an appeal, we deal with our fellows, not as though they\nbelonged to our social environment, but to our physical.\n\nAt the lowest stages of his development, man does not distinguish clearly\nbetween persons and things. This means that he cannot distinguish clearly\nbetween his material environment and his social. But the distinction\nbecomes gradually clearer, and it is, in the end, a marked one. Religion\nbecomes differentiated from magic. To confound religion, in its higher\ndevelopments, with magic is an inexcusable confusion.\n\n74. RELIGION AND THE COMMUNITY.--The denotation of the term religion is a\nbroad one, and there will probably always be dispute as to the justice of\nits extension to this or to that particular form of faith. But it seems\nclear that it is typical of religion to extend what may not unjustly be\ncalled the social environment of man.\n\nWill is recognized other than the wills of the human beings constituting\nthe community. To the part played by such wills a very great prominence\nmay be given.\n\nStates may be theocratic, as among the ancient Hebrews; or church and\nstate may share the dominion, or struggle between themselves for the\nsupremacy, as in Europe in the Middle Ages; or the state may be\ntheoretically supreme in authority and yet maintain and lend authority to\na church. Even where church and state are, in theory, quite divorced--a\nmodern conception--the church with its ordinances and prescriptions, its\nsacred days, its ceremonial, its educational institutions, remains a very\nsignificant factor in the social environment of man. Religious duties\nhave at all times and in all sorts of societies been regarded as\nconstituting an important aspect of conduct. They color strongly the\n_mores_ of the community. Whole codes of morals may be referred to\nthe teachings of certain religious leaders. They claim their authority on\nreligious grounds.\n\nThe great significance of the role played by religion in the sphere of\nmorals is impressed upon one who glances over the works of those writers\nwho have approached the subject of ethics from the side of anthropology\nor sociology. A review of the facts has even tempted one of the most\nlearned to seek the origin of morals almost wholly in religion.\n[Footnote: WUNDT, _Ethics_, Vol. I. \"The Facts of the Moral Life\";\nsee chapters ii and iii. English Translation, London, 1897.]\n\nThat religion should play an important part in giving birth to or\nmodifying moral codes is not surprising. Man adjusts himself to his\nsocial environment as he conceives it. If the community of wills which he\nrecognizes includes the wills of supernatural beings, it is natural that\nthe social will which finds its expression in the organization of the\nstate, in custom, in law and in public opinion, should be modified by\nsuch inclusion.\n\nNor is it surprising that the supernatural element should, at times,\ndwarf and render insignificant the other elements which enter into the\nsocial will. It may seem to man the all-important factor in his life.\n\nWithin the human community some individuals count for much more than do\nothers. There are those who scarcely seem to have any voice in\ncontributing to the character and direction of the social will. Others\nare influential; and, in extreme cases, the wills of the few, or even\nthat of a single individual, may be the source of law for the many. If\nmen come to the conclusion that the weal and woe of the community are\ndependent upon the will of the gods, or of God, they will unavoidably\ngive frank recognition to that will above others, and such recognition\nwill dictate conduct. The gods of Epicurus, leading a lazy existence in\nthe interstellar spaces, indifferent to man and in no wise affecting his\nlife, could scarcely become the objects of a cult. But the God of the\nMahometan, of the Jew, or of the Christian, is a ruler to be feared,\nloved, obeyed. His will is law, and is determinative of conduct.\n\n75. THE SPREAD OF THE COMMUNITY.--So far I have been speaking of the\ncommunity properly so called, of the single group of human beings living\nits corporate life. But such groups do not normally remain in isolation.\nAs the isolation of the group diminishes, as contacts between it and\nothers become more numerous and more important, the necessity of\nconventions controlling the relations of groups becomes more pressing.\n\nThis implies the development of a broader social will, inclusive of the\nsocial wills of the several communities. This social will may be very\nfeeble, and the bond between men belonging to different communities may\nbe a weak one; or it may be vigorous, and furnish an intimate bond. The\nsavage, to whom those beyond the pale of his tribe or small confederation\nare mere strangers, and probably enemies, stands at the lower limit of\nthe scale; the trader, to whom the stranger is co-partner in a mutually\nprofitable transaction, stands higher; the Stoic philosopher,\ncosmopolitan in thought and feeling, rating the claims of kindred and\ncountry as less significant than the bonds which unite all men in virtue\nof their common humanity, marks the other extreme. The spread of the\nsocial will grows marked as man rises in the scale of civilization.\nBarriers are broken down and limits are transcended.\n\nThis broader social will, like the narrower, reveals itself in the\norganization of society. We find confederations of tribes or states;\nalliances temporary or relatively permanent. And the broader social will\nmodifies customs, gives birth to systems of law, and encourages the\ndevelopment of an inclusive humanitarian sentiment.\n\nIt does not necessarily obliterate old distinctions. The family,\nneighborhood, kindred, have their claims even under the most firmly\norganized of states; but those claims are limited and controlled. Even\nso, the broader social will may come to regard states as answerable for\ntheir decisions. International law remains to the present day what has\naptly been called a pious wish. But public opinion prepares the way for\nlaw; and all states, whatever be their real aims, now attempt to justify\ntheir actions by an appeal to the more or less nebulous tribunal of\ninternational public opinion. In this they recognize its claim to act as\narbiter. Within the jurisdiction of a state, the motto, \"my family, right\nor wrong,\" would not be a maxim approved in a court of justice.\nInternational law is made a mock of by the frank enunciation of the\nmaxim, \"my country, right or wrong.\" Hence, such frankness is, in\ninternational relations, not encouraged.\n\nThe more or less skillfully made appeal to the moral sense of mankind--to\nthe broader social will as public opinion--implies a certain recognition\nof its authority, or, at least, of its influence. Whether this is a\ndefinite step toward the granting of a real authority to the broader\nsocial will, an authority which will curb impartially the selfishness of\nindividual states, it remains for the future to decide.\n\n\n\n\nPART VI\n\nTHE REAL SOCIAL WILL\n\n\nCHAPTER XX\n\nTHE IMPERFECT SOCIAL WILL\n\n\n76. THE APPARENT AND THE REAL SOCIAL WILL.--It is important to\ndistinguish between the apparent and the real social will. We may begin\nby pointing out that the question \"apparent to whom?\" is a pertinent one.\n\nThe social will is brought to bear upon the individual through a variety\nof agencies. The family, the neighborhood, the church, the trade or\nprofession, the political party, the social class--all these have their\nhabits and maxims. They tend to mold to their type those whom they count\namong their members. The pressure which they bring to bear is felt as a\nsense of moral obligation. Naturally, individuals with different\naffiliations will be sensible of the pressure in different ways, and may\ndiffer widely in their conceptions of the obligations actually laid upon\nthe individual by the will of the greater organism of which he is a part.\n\nBut even he who rises above minor distinctions and takes a broad view of\nsociety is forced to recognize that the distinction between the apparent\nand the real social will may be a most significant one.\n\nWe have found the expression of the social will in custom, law and public\nopinion. This is just; but the statement must be accepted with\nreservations.\n\nThere are instances in which neither the organization of the state, nor\nthe laws according to which it is governed, can be considered as in any\nsense an expression of the social will. An autocracy, established by\nforce, and ruling without the free consent of the governed, is an\nexternal and overruling power. It may be obeyed, but it is not consented\nto. Nor is any body of law or system of government imposed upon a subject\npeople by an alien and dominant race a fair exponent of the social will\nof the people thus governed. Custom and public opinion are at variance\nwith law. However just and enlightened the government, as judged from the\nstandpoint of some other race or nation, its control must be felt as\noppressive by those upon whom it is imposed. Traditions felt to be the\nmost sacred may be violated; moral laws, as understood by those thus\nunder dictation, may be transgressed by obedience to the law of the land.\n\nWhere custom, law and public opinion are more nearly the spontaneous\noutcome of the life of a community, they may with more justice be taken\nas expressions of the social will of that community as it is at the time.\nYet, even here, we must make reservations.\n\nThe organization of a state represents rather the crystallized will of\nthe past than the free choice of the present. To be sure, it is accepted\nin the present; but this is little more than the acquiescence of inertia.\nAnd public opinion may be at variance both with custom and with law long\nbefore it succeeds in modifying either. What is the actual social will of\na community during the interval?\n\nThe past may be felt as exercising a certain tyranny over the present.\nThat the present cannot be cut wholly loose from it is manifest, but how\nfar should its dependence be accepted? In the past there have been\nhistorical causes for the rise of dictatorships, of oligarchies, of\ndominant social classes. The men of a later time inherit such social\ninstitutions, may accept them as desirable, or may feel them as\ninstruments of tyranny. Shall we say that they represent the actual\nsocial will of the community until such time as they are done away with\nby a successful revolution? Or shall we say that they are in harmony with\nthe apparent social will only, and really stand condemned?\n\n77. THE WILL OF THE MAJORITY.--Our own democratic institutions rest upon\nthe theory that the social will is to be determined by the majority vote.\nTo be sure, we seem to find it necessary to limit the application of this\ndoctrine, and to seek stability of government by fixing, in certain cases\nrather arbitrarily, the size of the majority that shall count. [Footnote:\nSee the Constitution of the United States, Article V.] But the doctrine,\ntaken generally, does seem in harmony with the test of rationality\ndeveloped above. [Footnote: Chapter xvi.] It aims at the satisfaction of\nmany desires--at what may be termed satisfaction _on the whole_.\n\nNevertheless, it is possible to question whether the vote of the majority\nrepresents, in a given instance, the actual will of the community.\n\nNo one knows better than the practical politician how the votes of the\nmajority are obtained. No one knows better than he that, in the most\ndemocratic of communities, it is the wills of the few that count. The\norganization of a party, clever leadership, the command of the press, the\ncatching phrases of the popular orator, the street procession, the brass\nband, the possession of the ability to cajole and to threaten--these play\nno mean role in the outcome, which may be the adoption of a state policy\nof which a large proportion of the majority voting may be quite unable to\ncomprehend the significance. Shall we say, in such a case, that the will\nof the majority was for the ultimate end? Or shall we say that the vote\nwas in pursuance of a multitude of minor ends, many of which had but an\naccidental connection with the ultimate end?\n\n78. IGNORANCE AND ERROR AND THE SOCIAL WILL.--The apparent will of the\ncommunity appears to be, in large measure, an accidental thing. That is\nto say, men will what they would not will were they not hampered by\nignorance and error, and were they not incapable of taking long views of\ntheir own interests.\n\nThe decisions of the social will may be the outcome of ignorance and\nsuperstition.\n\nWhere it is thought necessary to punish the accidental homicide in order\nto appease the ghost of the dead man, which might otherwise become a\ncause of harm, the course of justice, if one may call it such, deviates\nfrom what the enlightened man must regard as normal. The belief that sin\nis an infection, communicable by heredity or even by contact, must lead\nto similar aberrations of primitive justice. Animals, and even material\nthings, have, and not by peoples the most primitive, been treated as\nrational, responsible and amenable to law. This seems to do the brutes\nmore than justice. On the other hand, the philosophical tenet of the\nCartesians, which denied a mind to the brutes, resulted in no little\ncruelty. The treatment of drunkards, and of the mentally defective, has,\nat times, been based upon the notion that they are possessed by god or\ndemon, and, hence, have a right to peculiar consideration, or may be\ntreated with extreme rigor.\n\nIt is worth while to follow up the above reference to the Cartesians by a\nreference to St. Augustine. Trains of reasoning based upon theological or\nphilosophical tenets have more than once given rise to aberrations of the\nmoral judgment.\n\nThe intellectual subtlety of Augustine betrays him into magnifying to\nenormous proportions the guilt of the boyish prank of stealing green\npears from the garden of a neighbor, inspired by the agreeable thought of\nthe irritation which would be caused by the theft. The pears were not\nedible, and were thrown to the pigs, which circumstance seduces this\nfather of the Church into the reflection that the sin must have been\ncommitted for no other end than for the sake of sinning. A greater crime\nthan this he cannot conceive.\n\nMany years after the event, in writing his Confessions, he expresses in\nunmeasured terms his horror of the deed, filling seven chapters\n[Footnote: _Confessions_, chapters iv-x.] with his reflections and\nlamentations: \"Behold my heart, O God, behold my heart, upon which thou\nhadst mercy when in the depths of this bottomless pit.\" \"O corruption! O\nmonster of life and depth of death! Is it possible that I liked to do\nwhat I might not, simply and for no other reason than because I might\nnot?\"\n\nSaint as he was, Augustine would have made a sorry schoolmaster. It is\nevident that the enlightened mind cannot regard schoolboys as unique\nmonsters of iniquity for making a raid on an orchard.\n\nThe community whose decisions are made under the influence of erroneous\npreconceptions undoubtedly wills, but its will is determined by the\naccident of ignorance. It is to be likened to the man who, in unfamiliar\nsurroundings, takes the wrong road in his desire to get home. He chooses,\nbut he does not choose what he would if he knew what he was about.\n\n79. HEEDLESSNESS AND THE SOCIAL WILL.--Numberless illustrations might be\ngiven of the fact that, not merely ignorance and error, but also a short-\nsighted heedlessness plays no small part in introducing elements of the\naccidental and irrational into the social will. The man who spends freely\nwith no thought for the morrow is not more irrational than the state that\npermits a squandering of its resources, and wakes up too late only to\ndiscover that it has lost what cannot easily be replaced.\n\nThe life of the community is a long one, and calls for long views of the\ninterests of the community. These are too often lacking. Heedlessness and\nindifference are a fertile source of abuses. In which case, the will of\nthe community resembles that of the impulsive and erratic man, who has\ntoo little foresight and self-control to consult consistently his own\ninterests. We may say that he desires his own good on the whole, but we\ncannot say that he desires it at all times. Future goods disappear from\nhis view. His choices clash. His actual will at any given moment appears\nto be the creature of accident. So it may be with the community.\n\n80. RATIONAL ELEMENTS IN THE IRRATIONAL WILL.--The actual social will, as\nrevealed in custom, law and public opinion, often appears, thus, highly\nirrational, and we may be justified in distinguishing between it and the\nreal will which we conceive of as struggling to get itself expressed.\nNevertheless, in justice to custom, law and public opinion, we must look\nbelow the surface of things. Even where the decisions of the community\nseem most irrational, and where there appears to be little consciousness\nof the ends pursued by the real will, the discriminating observer may see\nthat pure irrationality does not prevail. The individual may show by his\nactions that he has comprehensive ends, and may yet not be distinctly\naware of them. So may a community of men.\n\n\"The true meaning of ethical obligations,\" says Hobhouse, [Footnote:\n_Morals in Evolution_, New York, 1906, p. 30.] \"--their bearing on\nhuman purposes, their function in social life--only emerges by slow\ndegrees. The onlooker, investigating a primitive custom, can see that\nmoral elements have helped to build it up, so that it embodies something\nof moral truth. Yet these elements of moral truth were perhaps never\npresent to the minds of those who built it. Instead thereof we are likely\nto find some obscure reference to magic or to the world of spirits. The\ncustom which we can see, perhaps, to be excellently devised in the\ninterests of social order or for the promotion of mutual aid is by those\nwho practice it based on some taboo, or preserved from violation from\nfear of the resentment of somebody's ghost.\" It is not wholly irrational\nthat, in the laws of various peoples, an allowance should be made for the\nsudden resentment which flames up when wrong has been suffered, and that\nan offence grown cold should be treated more leniently than one which is\nfresh and the smart caused by which has not had time to suffer\ndiminution. Society has to do with men as they are. It is its task to\nbend the will of the individual into conformity with the social will.\nThat resentment for wrongs suffered is an important element in the\nestablishment of order in the community can scarcely be denied, nor is it\nwholly unreasonable, men being what they are, for the community to make\nsome concessions to the natural feeling of the individual. Moreover, the\noffender caught in the act is indubitably the real offender; and settled\nanimosities are more injurious to the social order than are fugitive\ngusts of passion.\n\nAnd if it is true that the arbitrary laws of hospitality, as recognized\nby some primitive and half-civilized communities, are reinforced by the\nsuperstitious fear of the stranger's curse, it is none the less true that\nthey serve certain social needs. The fact that hospitality tends to\ndecline when it becomes superfluous is sufficient to indicate its social\nsignificance.\n\nAgain, collective responsibility--the making of a man responsible for the\ndelinquencies of those connected with him, even when he could in no way\nhave prevented the evils in question--appears to modern civilized man, in\nmost instances, [Footnote: Only under normal conditions. We have recently\nhad abundant opportunity to see that in time of war civilized nations\nhave no scruples in making the innocent suffer with the guilty, or even\nfor the guilty.] an irrational thing. Yet men are actually knit into\ngroups with common interests and accustomed to cooperation. To treat them\nas wholly independent units, responsible only to some higher organization\nsuch as the state, is to overlook actual relationships which have no\nsmall influence in determining the course of their lives. Within each\nlesser group the members can and do encourage or repress given types of\naction beneficial or the reverse. Is it irrational for the larger group\nto set such influences to work by holding the lesser group responsible in\nits collective capacity? In China the principle has worked with some\nmeasure of success as an instrument of order for many centuries. In an\nenlightened society some better method of attaining order may obtain, but\nit would be a mistake to assume that there is nothing behind the\nprinciple of collective responsibility save the unintelligent attempt to\nsatisfy resentment by striking indirectly at the offender through those\nconnected with him, or the mental confusion that identifies the culprit,\nthrough mere association of ideas, with other members of the group to\nwhich he belongs.\n\n81. THE SOCIAL WILL AND THE SELFISHNESS OF THE INDIVIDUAL.--There is,\nthen, often some reason to be discovered even in what appears at first\nsight to be wholly irrational. But no small part of the irrationality of\nthe actual social will must be set down, in the last instance, to that\npeculiar form of irrationality in the individual or in groups of\nindividuals which we call selfishness.\n\nThat some degree of inequality should be necessary in communities of men,\nin view of the differentiation of function implied in cooperative effort,\nmay be admitted. How far the inherited organization or the existing\nenvironment of a given community may make it necessary, in the interests\nof all, to grant a large measure of power or prerogative to a single\nindividual, or to the few, is fair matter for investigation. But the most\ncursory glance at the pages of history, the most superficial survey of\nthe present condition of mankind, must make it evident that a far-seeing\nand enlightened social will has not been the determining factor in\nbringing into existence many of the institutions which are accepted by\nthe actual social will of a given epoch.\n\nNeither Alexander the Great nor Napoleon can be regarded as true\nexponents of the social will. The rule of the oligarchy is based upon\nselfish considerations. The institution of slavery overrides the will of\nthe bondsman in the interests of his possessor. The perennial struggle\nbetween the \"haves\" and the \"have nots\"--the rich and the poor--is,\nunfortunately, carried on by those engaged in it with a view to their own\ninterests and not with a view to the good of society as a whole.\n\nThat those to whom especial opportunities are, by the accident of their\nposition, open, or by whom special rights are inherited, should accept\nthe situation as right and proper is not to be wondered at. All rights\nand duties have their roots in the past, and conceptions of what is\nfeasible and desirable are always influenced by tradition. While from the\nstandpoint of the real social will anomalous and accidental it is\nnevertheless psychologically explicable and natural that the mediaeval\nknight should be bound by the rules of chivalry only in his dealings with\nthose of his own rank; that the murder of a priest should be regarded as\na crime of a special class; that benefit of clergy should be extended to\na limited number of those guilty of the same offence; that the lists of\nthe deadly sins should, in an age dominated by the monastic idea, smack\nso strongly of the cloister.\n\nNatural it is, and, perhaps, inevitable, that such expressions of the\nsocial will should make their appearance. They have their place in the\nhistoric evolution of society. But they betray the fact that man is\nimperfectly rational. They cannot be regarded as expressions of the\npermanent rational will which belongs to man as man.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI\n\nTHE RATIONAL SOCIAL WILL\n\n\n82. REASONABLE ENDS.--We have seen in the chapter on \"Rationality and\nWill,\" that we cannot consider a man rational unless his choices are\nharmonized and converge upon some comprehensive end. It has been hinted,\nfurthermore, that not all comprehensive ends can be described as\nreasonable or rational.\n\nA child may be consistently disobedient to its parents, and, given\nparents of a certain kind, it may find its life highly satisfactory. A\nman may consistently be a bad neighbor, and may harbor the conviction\nthat, on the whole, he gains by it. A miser may be consistent; he may\ncome to joy in denying himself luxuries and even comforts, repaid in the\nconsciousness of an increasing store. The philosophical egoist may reason\nwith admirable consistency, and may habitually act in accordance with his\nconvictions, leading, for him, a very endurable life.\n\nAll these may be intelligent, even acutely intelligent, and may reason\nclearly and well. Nevertheless, men generally refuse to consider their\nbehavior reasonable. There are ends which we regard as rational, and\nothers which we condemn as irrational.\n\nIt is not enough, hence, that a man's volitions should be intelligently\nharmonized and unified. His will must be adjusted to ends which\nthemselves can be judged rational.\n\nAnd in deciding whether the ends he chooses are rational or not, we\nproceed just as we do in judging the rationality of his individual\nchoices. If the latter are made in the light of information, if their\nsignificance is realized, if they converge upon some comprehensive end\nand do not merely clash and defeat one another, we have seen that they\nare made under the guidance of reason or intelligence. The individual\nvolitions are congruous with the permanent set of the man's will. They\nare judged by their background, by their harmony with the \"pattern\" which\nis revealed in the man's volitional life.\n\nEven so, each such volitional pattern, the harmonized and unified will of\nthe individual as directed upon some comprehensive end, is judged to be\nrational or not according as it does or does not accord with the ends\npursued by the social will. Individuals, whose wills are thoroughly\nunified and harmonized by the dominant influence of given chosen ends,\nmay be thoroughly out of harmony with the chosen ends of the larger\norganism of which they are a part. They may be out of harmony with each\nother. Considered alone, each may display an internal order and unity.\nTaken together they may be seen to be in open strife.\n\nWe have found the social will to be something relatively permanent and\nmoving with more or less consistency toward certain comprehensive ends.\nThat the ends chosen by given individuals may be very much out of harmony\nwith these is palpable. The deliberate idler, the whole-hearted epicure,\nthe habitually untruthful man, the miser, the cold egoist--these and such\nas these are condemned in enlightened communities. Their lives do not\nhelp to further, but serve to frustrate, the ends approved by the social\nwill. In so far they may be regarded as consistently irrational.\n\n83. AN OBJECTION ANSWERED.--Consistently irrational! it may be exclaimed;\nhow can that be? is not a far-sighted consistency the very mark of\nrational choice?\n\nThe difficulty is only an apparent one. Many forms of consistency may\nindicate a certain degree of rationality, and yet too slight a degree to\nwin approval. There is such a thing as a narrow consistency. He who\ndevotes his life to the purpose of revenge, may live consistently, but he\nloses much. A bitter and angry life is not a desirable thing, even from\nthe standpoint of the individual.\n\nBut why should we limit ourselves to the standpoint of the individual, in\njudging of the rationality of ends? There are those to whom it appears\nself-evident that this should be done; those to whom it does not seem\nreasonable for a man to do anything by which he, on the whole, loses;\nthose who deny the reasonableness of self-sacrifice in any form. This\ndoctrine will be examined later. [Footnote: See Sec 102 and 128.]\n\nHere it is enough to point out that men do not actually limit the notion\nof rationality in this way. In every, even moderately, rational life some\ndesires must be suppressed. All desires cannot be satisfied. Why should\nit not be regarded as rational and reasonable that, to attain the\ncomprehensive ends of the social will, certain ends consistently chosen\nby certain kinds of individuals should deliberately be denied?\n\nAs a matter of fact, men generally do so regard it. They employ the terms\nrational and irrational, reasonable and unreasonable, to indicate the\nharmony or lack of harmony between the individual and the social will. We\ncall the man unreasonable who insists upon having his own way regardless\nof his fellows; and this, even in instances in which his fellows cannot\npunish him for his selfish attitude.\n\nIt is not a matter of accident that this should be so. The analogy\nbetween the relation of separate volitions to the dominant ends which\ncontrol action on the part of the individual, and the relation of the\nultimate choices of individuals to the ends pursued by the social will,\nis a close one. In the well-ordered mind the clash of conflicting desires\nis reduced to a minimum. In a well-ordered community the conflict of\nindividual wills is also reduced to a minimum. In each case, we are\nconcerned with the work of reason, and judgments as to rationality and\nirrationality are equally in place.\n\n84. REASONABLE SOCIAL ENDS.--The will of the individual, when affirmed to\nbe rational or irrational, is, therefore, referred to the background of\nthe social will. But the social will is more or less different in\ndifferent communities, and in the one community at different stages of\nits development. Is there any measure of the degree of rationality of the\nsocial will itself? is there any standard to which its different\nexpressions may be referred?\n\nWe may criticise a community as we criticise an individual man even when\nhe is taken as abstracted from his social setting. The man's choices may\nbe blind, conflicting, wayward, and ill-adapted to serve his interests\ntaken as a whole. In the last chapter we saw that a community may\nresemble such a man. It may be ignorant, superstitious, short-sighted,\nand in conflict with itself. The social will as actually revealed may be\nan imperfect and inconsistent thing. Here enlightenment and inner\nharmonization are called for, to set the social will free.\n\nBut even where the will of a community is something more definite and\nconsistent than this, it may be condemned by the moral judgment of the\nenlightened. An appeal may be made from the will of the community in the\nnarrower sense to that of the larger community. The limits of nation,\nrace and religion may be transcended, and we may appeal to humanity as\nsuch, refusing to recognize the will of any lesser unit as really\nultimate. He who occupies the one standpoint is apt to speak of defending\nhis legitimate rights, or of extending to subject races the blessings of\ncivilization. He who takes his stand upon the other may talk of lust of\ndominion, or desire for economic advantage. The one may use the term\nrighteous indignation; the other, the word anger. The moral judgment\npassed upon an act depends upon the concept under which men manage to\nbring it. What is approved by the tribal ethics may be abhorrent to the\nethics of humanity.\n\nBut the larger social will, so far as it has gotten itself expressed at\nall, seems to remain something vague and indefinite. It is appealed to as\nrational; but how indicate clearly the end which it sets before itself\nand the obligations which it lays upon mankind?\n\nThe difficulty of describing in detail the ultimate ends of the real\nsocial will has led some writers to speak in terms of exaggerated\nvagueness. The mere idea in a man \"of something, he knows not what, which\nhe may and should become\" can give little guidance to action; nor can one\naim with much confidence at a goal of which \"we can only speak or think\nin negatives.\" [Footnote: _Prolegomena to Ethics_, Sec Sec 192, 172,\n180. But GREEN is not always so indefinite. He is on the right track. He\nreverences the social will and the historical development of the social\norder.]\n\nBut it is not necessary to speak in this way. We may form some conception\nof the real, rational social will, without being compelled to know all\nthat man is capable of becoming and without being able to forecast the\ndetails of his environment in the distant future.\n\nWe may attain to our conception by determining clearly the nature of the\naims man sets before himself in proportion to his growing rationality. We\ncan see in what direction man moves as he develops and becomes\nenlightened. From this standpoint, the aims of the rational social will\nappear to be as follows:\n\n(1) The harmonious satisfaction of the impulses and desires of man.\n\n(2) Such an unfolding of his powers as will increase their range and\nvariety, broaden man's horizon, and give him an increased control over\nerratic impulses.\n\n(3) The bringing about of a social state in which the will of each\nindividual within a community counts for something, and not merely the\nwill of a chosen few.\n\n(4) The broadening of the conception of what constitutes a community, so\nthat ever increasing numbers are regarded as having claims that must be\nrecognized.\n\n(5) The taking into consideration of the whole of life; the whole life of\nindividuals and of communities, so that the insistent present shall not\nbe given undue weight, as against the future.\n\n85. THE ETHICS OF REASON.--The doctrine of the Rational Social Will might\nvery properly be called the Ethics of Reason. It is not to be confounded\nwith the so-called \"tribal\" or \"group\" ethics. To be sure, it has to do\nwith man as a social being; but this is characteristic of ethical systems\ngenerally. Man is a social being; he is one essentially, and not\naccidentally. That he should be a member of a tribe, or of any lesser\ngroup than the whole body of sentient and reasonable beings, may not\nunjustly be regarded as an historical accident, as a function of his\nposition in the scale of development.\n\nIn judging the doctrine of the rational social will, bear in mind the\nfollowing:\n\n(1) It rests upon the basis of the impulsive and volitional nature of\nman.\n\n(2) It recognizes reason in the individual, and declares that only so far\nas he is rational is he the proper subject of ethics at all. Erratic and\nuncontrolled impulse knows no moral law.\n\n(3) It sees reason in the customs, laws and public opinion of the tribe\nor the state, while recognizing a higher tribunal before the bar of which\nall these are summoned.\n\n(4) It appeals to the reason of the race--the reason appropriate to the\nrace as enlightened and freed from the shackles of local prejudice and\nrestricted sympathy.\n\n(5) It recognizes that man can give expression to his nature, can satisfy\nhis desires and exercise his reason, only as aided by his physical and\nsocial environment. It emphasizes the necessity of a certain reverence\nfor the actual historical development of human societies, with their\ninstitutions. Such institutions are the embodiment of reason--not pure\nreason, but reason struggling to get itself expressed as it can. He who\nwould legislate for man independently of such institutions has left the\nsolid earth and man far behind. He is suspended in the void.\n\n86. THE DEVELOPMENT OF CIVILIZATION.--Civilizations differ; some are more\nmaterial, laying stress upon man's conquest of his material environment.\nOthers exhibit a greater appreciation of idealistic elements, the pursuit\nof knowledge for its own sake, the cultivation of the fine arts, the\ndevelopment of humanitarian sentiment. For civilization in general it is\nnot necessary to advance an argument. But there are elements in many\ncivilizations which the thoughtful man may feel called upon to defend.\n\nCivilization, taken generally, scarcely needs a labored justification\nbecause it is only in a civilization of some kind or other that we can\nlook for a guarantee of the broad social will, for the reign of reason.\nUndeveloped man is at the mercy of nature; he is the sport of history.\nWhere developed man can raise his voice, man possessed of power and\ncapable of taking broad views of things, the rule of reason may be set\nup. A deliberate attempt may be made to recognize many wills, harmonize\ndiscords. Order may be brought out of chaos, and the limits of the realm\nwithin the borders of which order reigns may be indefinitely extended.\n\nSuch is the general ethical justification for the rise of a civilization.\nIt is an expression of, and an instrument for the realization of, the\nbroader social will. That a given civilization may be imperfect in both\nrespects has been made clear in the last chapter. In the light of the\ngeneral justification for civilization many questions may be raised\ntouching this or that element in civilizations as we observe them.\n\nThus, it may be pointed out that as man progresses in civilization he\ncalls into being a multitude of new wants, many of which may have to\nremain unsatisfied. [Footnote: Compare chapter xxx, Sec 142.] It may be\nasserted that literature, art and science are, in fact, cherished as\nthough they were ends in themselves, and not means called into existence\nto serve the interests of man. Absorbing as it may be to him, how can the\nphilologist prove that his science is useful to humanity either present\nor prospective? How shall the astronomer, who may frankly admit that he\ncannot conceive that nine tenths of the work with which he occupies\nhimself can ever be of any actual use to anyone, justify himself in\ndevoting his life to it? Shall a curiosity, which seems to lead nowhere,\nbe satisfied? And if so, on what ground?\n\nMoreover, every civilization recognizes that some wills are to be given a\nmore unequivocal recognition than others. Inequality is the rule. A man\ndoes not put his own children upon a level with those of his neighbor.\nEven in the most democratic of states men do not stand upon the same\nlevel. In dealing with our own fellows we do not employ the same weights\nand measures as in dealing with foreigners. Who loses his appetite for\nhis breakfast when he reads that there have been inundations in China or\nthat an African tribe has come under the \"protection\" of a race of\nanother color? The white man has added to his burden--the burden of\neconomic advantage present or prospective--and we find it as it should\nbe. Finally, when we bring within our horizon the \"interests\" of humbler\nsentient creatures, we see that they are unhesitatingly subordinated to\nour own. Some attention is paid to them in civilized communities. They\nare recognized, not merely by custom and public opinion, but, to some\ndegree, even by law. Men are punished for treating certain animals in\ncertain ways. But why? Have the animals rights? There is no topic within\nthe sphere of morals upon which moralists speak with more wavering and\nuncertain accents. [Footnote: See chapter XXX, Sec 141.]\n\nI know of no way in which such problems as the above can be approached\nother than by the appeal to reason, as reason has been understood in the\npages preceding. The reign of reason implies the recognition of all\nwills, _so far as such a recognition is within the bounds of\npossibility_. The escape from chaos lies in the evolution of the\nenlightened social will. Man must be raised in the scale, in order that\nhe may have control; control over himself, over other men, over the\nbrutes. And he cannot rise except through the historical evolution of a\nsocial order. This implies the development of the capacities latent in\nman.\n\nTo decide that any of his capacities shall be allowed to remain dormant\nmay threaten future development. To cut off certain arts and sciences as\nnot palpably serving the interests of man is a dangerous thing. To ignore\nthe actual history of man's efforts to become a rational being, and to\nplace, hence, all wills upon the one level, is to frustrate the desired\nend. It is not thus that the reign of reason can be established.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII\n\nTHE INDIVIDUAL AND THE SOCIAL WILL\n\n\n87. MAN'S MULTIPLE ALLEGIANCE.--We have seen that each man has his place\nin a social order. This order is the expression and the embodiment of the\nsocial will, which accepts him, protects him, gives him a share in the\ngoods the community has so far attained, recognizes his individual will\nin that it accords to him rights, and prescribes his course of conduct,\nthat is, defines his duties or obligations.\n\nThe social will is authoritative; it issues commands and enforces\nobedience. With its commands the individual may be in sympathy or he may\nnot. But upon obedience the social will insists, and it compasses its\nends by the bestowal of rewards or the infliction of punishment. The\nmoral law to which man thus finds himself subject is something not wholly\nforeign to the nature of the individual. It has come into being as an\nexpression of the nature of man. That nature the individual shares with\nhis fellows.\n\nObedience to the social will would be a relatively simple matter were\nthat will always unequivocally and unmistakably expressed, and did all\nthe members of a community feel the pressure of the social will in the\nsame manner and to the same degree. But the whole matter is indefinitely\ncomplicated by what may be called man's multiple allegiance.\n\nOrganized societies do not consist of undifferentiated units. They are\nnot mere aggregates, both are highly complex in their internal\nconstitution. A conscientious man may feel that he owes duties to\nhimself, to his immediate family, to his kindred, to his neighborhood, to\nhis social class, to his political party, to his church, to his country,\nto its allies, to humanity. The social will does not bring its pressure\nto bear upon the man who holds one place in the social order just as it\ndoes upon him who holds another.\n\nNor are the injunctions laid upon a man always in harmony. The demands of\nfamily may seem to conflict with those of neighborhood or of profession;\nduties to the church may seem to conflict with duties to the state;\npatriotism may appear to be more or less in conflict with an interest in\nhumanity taken broadly. That the individual should often approach in\ndoubt and hesitation the decision as to what it is, on the whole, his\nduty to do, is not surprising. Nor is it surprising that individuals the\nmost conscientious should find it impossible to be at one on the subject\nof rights and duties. Two men may agree perfectly that it is right to \"do\ngood,\" and be quite unable to agree just what good it is right to do now,\nor with whom one should make a beginning.\n\n88. THE APPEAL TO REASON.--Were there no appeal save to the social will\nas it happens to make its pressure felt upon this person or that, in this\nsituation or that, there could be no issue to dispute. Dispute would be\nuseless and sheer dogmatism would prevail. But there is such an appeal\nand men do make it, where they are in any degree enlightened. It is the\nappeal to Reason.\n\nHe who says: \"I have especial rights, just because I am Smith, and so has\nmy father, because he is my father,\" has no ground of argument with\nJones, who says: \"I have especial rights because I am Jones, and so has\nmy father, because he is my father.\" Upon such a basis, or lack of basis,\nall discussion becomes fatuous. But if Smith and Jones agree that duties\nto self should only within limits be recognized, and that duties to\nfamily have their place upon the larger background of the will of the\nstate, they may, at least, begin to talk.\n\nThe multiple allegiance of the individual does not mean that a man is\nsubject to a multitude of independent masters whose several claims have\nno relation to one another. An appeal may be made from lower to higher.\n\nWe have seen that, in the organization of a given society, the social\nwill may be imperfectly expressed. It may come about that the place in\nthe social order assigned to a man cramps and pains him, or forces him to\nexertions which seem intolerable. He may passively accept it, or he may\nset himself in opposition to the social will as it is, appealing to a\nbetter social will. The fact that an individual finds himself out of\nharmony with given aspects of the social will characteristic of his age\nand country is no proof that he desires to set himself up in opposition\nto the social will in general.\n\nIn a given instance, he may be, from the standpoint of existing law, a\ncriminal. Yet he may reverence the law above his fellows. His aberrations\nneed not be arbitrary wanderings, prompted by selfish impulses. He may\nleave the beaten track because he does not approve of it, which is a very\ndifferent thing from disliking it. Some will judge him to be a pestilent\nfellow; some will rate him as a reformer, a prophet, perhaps a martyr.\nNeither judgment is of the least value so long as it reflects merely the\ntastes or prejudices of the individual. Each must justify itself before\nthe bar of reason, if it would have a respectful hearing. A reason must\nbe given for conservatism and a reason must be given for reform.\n\n89. THE ETHICS OF REASON AND THE VARYING MORAL CODES.--Several\nadvantages may be claimed for the ethical doctrine I have been\nadvocating:\n\n(1) It gives a relative justification to the varying moral codes of\ncommunities of men in the past and in the present. A code may, even when\nimperfect from some higher point of view, fit well a community at a given\nstage of its development. It may be a man's duty to obey its injunctions,\neven where they are not seen to be the wisest possible. One reason for\nbowing to custom is that it _is_ custom; one reason for obeying laws\nis that they _are_ laws. They embody the permanence and stability of\nthe social will, and have a _prima facie_ claim to our reverence.\n\n(2) In recognizing the social will as something deeper and broader than\nthe will of the individual, as having its roots in the remote past and as\nreaching into the distant future, it admits the futility of devising\nutopian schemes which would bless humanity in defiance of the actual\nexpressions of the social will revealed in the development of human\nsocieties. The whim of the individual cannot well be substituted for the\nsettled purpose of the community--a purpose ripened by generations of\nexperience, and adjusted to what is possible under existing conditions.\n\n(3) On the other hand, it distinguishes between lower and higher ethical\ncodes, or codes lower or higher in certain of their aspects. It sets a\nstandard of comparison; it recognizes progress towards a goal.\n\n(4) And, in all this, it does not appear to decide _arbitrarily_\neither what is the goal of man's moral efforts or what means must be\nadopted to attain to it. It rests upon a study of man; man as he has\nbeen, man as he is, in all the manifold relations in which he stands to\nhis environment, physical and social.\n\nThere are other ethical theories in the field, of course. Some of them\nare advocated by men of original genius and of no little learning. Some\ndeserve more attention than others, but all should have a hearing, at\nleast. A close scrutiny will often reveal that advocates of different\ntheories are by no means so far apart as a hasty reading of their works\nwould suggest. Writers the most diverse may assist one to a comprehension\nof one's own theory. Its implications may be developed, objections to it\nmay be suggested, its strong points may stand revealed. By no means the\nleast important part of a work on ethics is its treatment of the schools\nof the moralists. If it be written with any degree of fairness, it may\ncontain what will serve the reader with an antidote to erroneous opinions\non the part of the writer. To a study of the most important schools of\nthe moralists I shall now turn.\n\n\n\n\nPART VII\n\nTHE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII\n\nINTUITIONISM\n\n\n90. WHAT IS IT?--\"We come into the world,\" said Epictetus, \"with no\nnatural notion of a right-angled triangle, or of a quarter-tone, or of a\nhalf-tone; but we learn each of these things by a certain transmission\naccording to art; and for this reason those who do not know them do not\nthink that they know them. But as to good and evil, and beautiful and\nugly, and becoming and unbecoming, and happiness and misfortune, and\nproper and improper, and what we ought to do and what we ought not to do,\nwho ever came into the world without having an innate idea of them?\"\n[Footnote: _Discourses_, Book II, chapter xi, translation by GEORGE\nLONG.] Seneca adds his testimony to the self-luminous character of moral\ntruth: \"Whatever things tend to make us better or happier are either\nobvious or easily discovered.\" [Footnote: _On Benefits_, Book VII,\nchapter i.]\n\nWith the general spirit of these utterances the typical intuitionist is\nin sympathy, although he need not assent to the doctrine of innate ideas,\nnor need he hold that all moral truths are equally self-evident. There\nare intuitionists of various classes, and there are sufficiently notable\ndifferences of opinion. Still, all intuitionists believe that some moral\ntruth, at least, is revealed to the individual by direct inspection\n(_intueor_), and that we must be content with such evidence and must\nnot seek for proof. It may be maintained that our moral judgments--or\nsome of them--are the result of \"an immediate discernment of the natures\nof things by the understanding.\" and appeal may be made to the analogy\nfurnished by mathematical truths. [Footnote: This appeal has been made by\nfamous intuitionists from the seventeenth century to the nineteenth--\nCudworth, More, Locke, Clarke, Price, Whewell.]\n\n91. VARIETIES OF INTUITIONISM.--Forms of intuitionism have been\nconveniently classified as Perceptional, Dogmatic and Philosophical.\n[Footnote: SIDGWICK, The Methods of Ethics, Book I, chapter viii, Sec 4.]\nTo this nomenclature it may be objected that the term \"dogmatic\" carries\nwith it a certain flavor of disapprobation, and predisposes one to the\nassumption of a critical attitude, while the term \"philosophical\" has the\nreverse suggestion, and smacks of special pleading. While admitting that\nthere is something in the objection, I retain the convenient terms,\nmerely warning the reader to be on his guard.\n\n(1) Perceptional Intuitionism falls back upon the analogy of perception\nin general. I seem to perceive by direct inspection that my blotter is\ngreen, and that my penholder is longer than my pencil. I do not seek for\nevidence; I do not have recourse to any chain of reasonings to establish\nthe fact. And I am concerned here with facts, not with some general\nproposition applicable to many facts. Even so, I may maintain that, in\nspecific situations, the rightness or wrongness of given courses of\naction may be perceived immediately.\n\nHe who accepts the spontaneous deliverances of his conscience, when\nconfronted with the necessity of making a decision, as revelations of\nmoral truth, may be called a perceptional intuitionist. The deliverances\nmust, however, be spontaneous and immediate, not the result of reasoning.\nIf a man reasons, if he falls back upon general considerations, if he\nlooks into the future and weighs the consequences of his act, and, as a\nresult, decides what he ought to do, he is no longer a perceptional\nintuitionist.\n\nThe perceptional intuitionist, consistently and unreservedly such, is\nrather an ideal construction than an actually existing person. Most men,\non certain occasions, are inclined to say, \"I feel this to be right, and\nwill do it, although I cannot support my decision by giving reasons.\"\nMany men are, at times, tempted to maintain that a given course of action\nis evidently right and should be followed irrespective of consequences.\nBut this is not the habitual attitude even of men very little gifted with\nreflection, and it is highly unsatisfactory to those who have the habit\nof thinking.\n\nPrimitive man supports his decisions by an appeal to custom. Civilized\nman turns to custom, to law, or to general principles of some sort, which\nhe accepts as authoritative, and which he regards as having a bearing\nupon the particular instance in question. That individual decisions\nshould be capable of some sort of justification by the adduction of a\nreason or reasons is generally admitted. No sane man would maintain the\ngeneral proposition that the consequences of acts should be wholly\ndisregarded in determining whether they are or are not desirable.\n\n(2) Thus, Perceptional Intuitionism gives place to what has been called\nDogmatic Intuitionism--to the doctrine that certain general moral rules\ncan be immediately perceived to be valid. The application of such general\nrules to particular instances implies discrimination and the use of\nreason.\n\nHere decisions are not wholly unsupported. Reasons may be asked for and\ngiven. In answer to the question: Why should I say this or that? it may\nbe said: Because the law of veracity demands it. In answer to the\nquestion: Why should I act thus? it may be said: Because it is just, or\nis in accordance with the dictates of benevolence. The general rule is\naccepted as intuitively evident, but it is incumbent upon the individual\nto use his judgment in determining what may properly fall under the\ngeneral rule.\n\nBut there are rules and rules. It is not easy to draw a sharp line\nbetween Perceptional Intuitionism and Dogmatic, just as it is not easy in\nother fields to distinguish sharply between knowledge given directly in\nperception, and knowledge in which more or less conscious processes of\ninference play a part. Do I perceive the man whom I see, when I look into\na mirror, to be behind the mirror or in front of it? Do I perceive the\nwhereabouts of the coach which I hear rattling by my window, or does\nreasoning play its part in giving me information? And if I follow my\nconscience in not withholding from the cabman the small customary fee in\naddition to his fare, am I prompted by an unreasoned perception of the\nrightness of my act, or am I influenced by general considerations--the\nthought of what is customary, the belief that gratuities should not be\nwithheld where services of a certain kind are rendered, etc.?\n\nEven so, it is difficult to draw a sharp line between Dogmatic\nIntuitionists and Philosophical, or to regard Dogmatic Intuitionists as a\nclearly defined class of any sort. A man may accept it as self-evident\nthat a waiter should receive ten per cent of the amount of his bill; a\nwoman may find it obviously proper that an old lady should wear purple.\nThose little given to reflection may accept such maxims as these without\nattempting to justify them by falling back upon any more general rule. We\nall find about us human beings who have their minds stored with a\nmultitude of maxims not greatly different from those adduced, and who\nfind them serviceable in guiding their actions. But thoughtful men can\nscarcely be content with such a modicum of reason, and they distinguish\nbetween ultimate principles and minor maxims which stand in need of\njustification by their reference to principles.\n\nThe intuitional moralists by profession draw this distinction. We find\nthem setting forth as ultimate a limited number of ethical principles of\na high degree of generality. It is obvious that, the more general the\nprinciple, the more room for conscious reasoning in its interpretation\nand application. The man to whom it appears as in the nature of things\nsuitable that the waiter should receive his ten per cent is relieved from\nmany perplexities which may beset the man who feels assured only of the\ngeneral truth that it is right to be benevolent.\n\nA glance at a few of the moralists who are treated in the history of\nethics as representative intuitionists reveals that they are little in\nharmony as touching the particular moral intuitions which they urge as\nthe foundation of ethics.\n\nThus, John Locke maintains that from the idea of God, and of ourselves as\nrational beings, a science of morality may be deduced demonstratively; a\nscience: \"wherein I doubt not but from self-evident propositions, by\nnecessary consequences, as incontestible as those in mathematics, the\nmeasures of right and wrong might be made out to anyone that will apply\nhimself with the same indifferency and attention to the one, as he does\nto the other of those sciences.\" [Footnote: _Essay Concerning Human\nUnderstanding_, Book IV, chapter iii, Sec 18.]\n\nAmong Locke's self-evident propositions or moral axioms we find: where\nthere is no property there is no injustice; no government allows absolute\nliberty; all men are originally free and equal; parents have the power to\ncontrol their children till they come of age; the right of property is\nbased upon work, but is limited by the supply of property left for others\nto enjoy. [Footnote: See above, chapter iii, Sec 10.]\n\nThese axioms cannot be identified with Samuel Clarke's four chief rules\nof righteousness, which inculcate: piety toward God, equity in our\ndealings with men, benevolence, and sobriety. [Footnote: _A Discourse\nconcerning the Unalterable Relations of Natural Religion_, Prop. I.]\nRichard Price gives us still another choice, in dwelling upon our\nobligation as regards piety, prudence, beneficence, gratitude, veracity,\nthe fulfillment of promises, and justice. [Footnote: _A Review of the\nPrincipal Questions and Difficulties in Morals_, chapter vii.] And\nWhewell, emulating the performance of Euclid, tried to build up a system\nof morals upon axioms embodying the seven principles of benevolence,\njustice, truth, purity, order, earnestness, and moral purpose. [Footnote:\n_The Elements of Morality_, Book III, chapter iv.]\n\nThese moralists press the analogy of mathematical truth. It must be\nconfessed, however, that a row of text-books on geometry, with so\nscattering and indefinite a collection of axioms, would do little to\nsupport one another; and little to convince us that they represented a\ncoherent and consistent body of truth in which we might have\nunquestioning faith.\n\n(3) It is not unnatural that some thoughtful intuitionists, dissatisfied\nwith a considerable number of independent moral principles, should aim at\na further simplification. Such a simplification Kant finds in the\nCategorical Imperative, or unconditional command of the Practical Reason:\n\"Act only on that maxim whereby thou canst at the same time will that it\nshould become a universal law.\" [Footnote: _Fundamental Principles of\nthe Metaphysic of Morals_, Sec 2.] And Henry Sidgwick, refusing to\nregard all intuitions as of equal authority, selects two only as\nultimately and independently valid--that which recommends a far-seeing\nprudence, and that which urges a rational benevolence. [Footnote: _The\nMethods of Ethics_, Book III, chapter xiii, Sec 3.] Those who make their\nultimate moral rules so broad and inclusive base upon them the multitude\nof minor maxims to which men are apt to have recourse in justifying their\nactions. Whether their doctrine may be called philosophical in a sense\nimplying commendation is matter for discussion.\n\n92. ARGUMENTS FOR INTUITIONISM.--What may be said in favor of\nintuitionism?\n\n(1) It may be urged that it is the doctrine which appeals most directly\nto common sense, and that it is found reasonably satisfactory in practice\nby men generally.\n\nIntuition appears to be, in fact, man's guide in an overwhelming majority\nof the situations in which he is called upon to act. In the face of the\nconcrete situation he _feels_ that he should say a kind word, help a\nneighbor, stand his ground courageously, speak the truth, and a thousand\nother things which a moralist might, upon reflection, approve.\n\nThat he \"feels\" this does not mean merely that he is influenced by an\nemotion. We constantly employ the word to indicate the presence of a\njudgment which presents itself spontaneously and for which men cannot or\ndo not seek support by having recourse to reasons.\n\nHe who, without reflection, affirms, \"this action is right,\" has framed a\nmoral judgment. He has in a given instance distinguished between right\nand wrong, although he has not raised the general problem of what\nconstitutes right and wrong. He has exercised the prerogative of a moral\nbeing, though not of a very thoughtful one.\n\nWe have seen above, that perceptional intuitionism tends to pass over\ninto dogmatic intuitionism of some sort, even in the case of minds little\ndeveloped. The egoistic rustic may defend his selfishness by citing the\nproverb, \"my shirt is closer to me than my coat.\" If he does so, it means\nthat a doubt has been suggested, a conflict of some sort called into\nbeing. Were such conflicts, causing hesitation and deliberation, of very\nfrequent occurrence, life could scarcely go on at all. Conversation would\nbe impossible were no word placed and no inflection chosen without\nconscious reference to the rules of grammar. No man could conduct himself\nproperly in a drawing-room or at a table, were his mind harking back at\nevery moment to the instructions contained in some volume on etiquette.\nHe who must justify every act by reflection is condemned to the jerkiest\nand most hesitant of moral lives. Perceptional moral intuition must stand\nour friend, if there is to be a flow of conduct worthy of the name.\n\nThere are, however, occasions for checking the flow by reflection. Then\nmen are forced to think, and we find them appealing to custom, citing\nproverbs, quoting maxims, taking their stand upon principles. Recourse\nmay be had to generalizations of a very low or of a very high degree of\ngenerality.\n\nBut low or high, it is upon intuitions that men actually fall back in\njustifying their actions. Benevolence, justice, honesty, truthfulness,\npurity, honor, modesty, courtesy, and what not, are intuitively perceived\nto be right, and an effort is made to bring the individual act under some\none of these headings. The mass of men, even in enlightened communities,\ndo not feel impelled to justify these general moral maxims, to reduce\nthem to a harmonious system, or to reconcile with each other the\ndifferent lists of them which have been drawn up. They find it possible\nin practice to resolve most of their doubts by an appeal to this maxim or\nto that. From such doubts as refuse to be resolved they are apt to turn\naway their attention. But the moral life goes on, and to intuitions it\nowes its guidance.\n\nAs to the few who reduce the moral intuitions to a minimum, and, like\nKant and Sidgwick, end with one or two ultimate intuitional moral\nprinciples, we may say that they, like other men, are compelled, in the\nactual conduct of life, to turn to intuitions of lower orders. All sorts\nof moral intuitions are actually found helpful by all sorts of men.\n\n(2) To the minds of men differing in their education and traditions, and\nat different stages of intellectual and moral development, very different\nmoral judgments spontaneously present themselves. It is not a matter of\naccident that this man may \"feel\" an action to be right, and that man may\n\"feel\" it to be wrong. There is evident adaptation of the judgments to\nhistory and environment. They spring into being because the men are what\nthey are and are situated as they are.\n\nIt is this adaptation that renders the moral intuitions serviceable in\ncarrying on the actual business of life. It is more complete, the less\nabstract the moral intuitions which come into play. Plato, who in his\n\"Laws\" enters very minutely into the question of the permissible and the\nforbidden in the life of the citizens of his ideal state, finds it\nnecessary to leave some things to the judgment of the individual. Thus,\nhe finds it impossible to determine exhaustively what things are, and\nwhat things are not, worthy of a freeman. He leaves it to the virtuous to\ngive judgments \"in accordance with their feelings of right and wrong.\"\n[Footnote: Book XI; see the account of the occupations permissible to the\nlanded proprietor.] The intuitions of the mediaeval saint, of the upright\nmodern European, of the virtuous Chinaman, would have impressed him as\nwithout rhyme or reason. He appealed to the Greek gentleman, whose sense\nof propriety was Greek, and might be expected to be adjusted to the\nsituation.\n\n(3) The intuitive judgment of a sensitive moral nature may often be more\nnearly right than moral judgments based upon the most subtle of\nreasonings.\n\nIt is not hard to find, with a little ingenuity, apparent justification\nfor actions which the consciences of the enlightened condemn at first\nsight. Scarcely any action may not be brought under some moral rule, if\none deliberately sets out to do so. A narrow selfishness is defended as\ncaring for one's own; a refusal of aid to the needy is justified by a\nreference to the evils of pauperization; patriotism becomes the excuse\nfor hatred, wilful blindness and untruthful vilification. To the\nsophistries of those who would thus make the worse appear the better, the\nintuitive judgment of the moral man opposes its unreasoned conviction.\nThat the conviction is not supported by arguments does not prove that it\nis not a just one.\n\n93. ARGUMENTS AGAINST INTUITIONISM.--What may be urged against\nIntuitionism?\n\n(1) It may be pointed out that such considerations as the above\nconstitute an argument to prove the value of moral intuitions, and not\none to prove the value of intuitionism as an ethical theory. That moral\nintuitions are indispensable may be freely admitted even by one who\ndemurs to the doctrine that intuitionism in some one of its forms may be\naccepted as a satisfactory theory of morals.\n\n(2) Perceptional Intuitionism, at least, cannot be regarded as embodying\na rational theory or furnishing a science of any sort. Its one and only\ndogma must be that whatever actions reveal themselves to this man or that\nas right, are right, and there is no going behind the judgment of the\nindividual.\n\nShall we say to men: \"In order to know what is right and what is wrong in\nhuman conduct, we need only to listen to the dictates of conscience when\nthe mind is calm and unruffled\"? [Footnote: THOMAS REID, _Essays on the\nActive Powers of Man_, v, Sec 4.] As well say: \"The right time is the\ntime indicated by your watch, when you are not shaking it.\" If men are to\nkeep appointments with each other, they must have some other standard of\ntime than that carried by each man in his vest-pocket.\n\nPerceptional Intuitionism ignores the fact that consciences may sometimes\ndisagree, and that there may be a choice in consciences. The consistent\nperceptional intuitionist is, however, scarcely to be found, as has been\nsaid above; and we actually find those, some of whose utterances read as\nthough the authors ought to be adherents of such a school, dwelling upon\nthe desirability of the education of the conscience, i.e., upon the\ndesirability of acquiring a capacity for having the right intuitions. In\nother words, they tell us to follow our noses--but to make sure that they\npoint in the right direction. [Footnote: See THOMAS REID, _Essays on\nthe Active Powers of Man_, iii, Part 3, Sec 8] In which case the\ndetermination of the right direction is not left to perceptional\nintuition.\n\n(3) The Dogmatic Intuitionist has difficulties of his own with which to\ncope. It is not enough to possess a collection of valid and authoritative\nrules. The rules must be applied; there is room for the exercise of\njudgment and for the possibility of error. Error is not excluded even\nwhen the rule appears to be at only one or two removes from the\nindividual instance; where the rule is one of great generality the\nproblem of its application becomes correspondingly difficult. The\ninterpretation of the rule is not given intuitively with the rule. This\nmeans that the rule must, in practice, be supplemented.\n\nAlways and everywhere, a straight line appears to be the shortest\ndistance between two points. What is meant by shortness hardly seems to\nbe legitimate matter for dispute. But the man convinced that he ought to\npay his workman a fair wage, and that he ought to do his duty by his son,\nmay be in no little perplexity when he attempts to define that fair wage\nor that parental duty. If he turns for advice to others, he will find\nthat history and tradition, time, place and circumstance, very\nperceptibly color the advice they offer.\n\nThe application of the general rule is, hence, quite as important as the\nrule. There is no such thing as conduct in the abstract. Let us admit\nthat benevolence is morally obligatory. How shall we be benevolent? Shall\nwe follow Cicero, and give only that which costs us nothing? or shall we\nemulate St. Francis? The general rule may be a faultless skeleton, but it\nis, after all, only a skeleton, and it cannot walk of itself.\n\nAgain. The dogmatic intuitionist has quite a collection of rules by which\nhe must judge of his actions. They are severally independent and\nauthoritative. Suppose an act appears to be commanded by one rule and\nforbidden by another? Who shall decide between them? Prudence and\nbenevolence may urge him in opposite directions. Benevolence and justice\nmay not obviously be in harmony. The rule of veracity may seem, at times,\nto prescribe conduct which will entail much suffering on the part of the\ninnocent. To what court of appeal can we refer the conflicts which may\narise when ultimate authorities disagree? He who, in war time, can\nconscientiously shoot a sentry, but cannot conscientiously lie to him,\nmay, later, have his misgivings, when the Golden Rule knocks at the gate\nof his mind.\n\n(4) Nor does he leave all difficulties behind him, who abandons Dogmatic\nIntuitionism and takes refuge in Philosophical.\n\nKant's maxim needs a vast amount of interpretation. As it stands, it is\nlittle more than an empty formula. What I can wish to be the law of the\nuniverse must depend very much upon what I am. The lion and the lamb do\nnot thirst for the same law. To the quarrelsome heroes of Walhalla a\nworld of perpetual fighting and feasting must seem a very good world, in\nspite of knocks received as well as given. Kant's fundamental maxim\nscarcely appears to be a moral rule at all, unless we make it read: \"Act\non a maxim which a _wise and good man_ can will to be a universal\nlaw.\" But how decide who is the wise and good man?\n\nThe philosophical intuitionist who accepts more than one ultimate moral\nrule must face the possibility that he will meet with a conflict of the\nhigher intuitions to which he has had recourse. Shall his intuitions be\nthose recommending a rational self-interest and a rational benevolence?\nCan he be sure that the two are necessarily in accord? Can there be a\nrational adjustment of the claims of each? Not if there be no court of\nappeal to which both intuitions are subject. [Footnote: With his usual\ncandor, SIDGWICK admits this difficulty. He leaves it unresolved. See,\n_The Methods of Ethics_, in the concluding chapter.]\n\nFurthermore, between the philosophical and the dogmatic intuitionist\nserious differences of opinion may be expected to arise. He who makes,\nlet us say, benevolence the supreme law naturally allows to other\nintuitions, such as justice and veracity, but a derivative authority. It\nappears, then, that there may be occasions on which they are not valid.\nTo some famous intuitionists this has seemed to be a pernicious doctrine.\n\n\"We are,\" writes Bishop Butler, \"constituted so as to condemn falsehood,\nunprovoked violence, injustice, and to approve of benevolence to some\npreferably to others, abstracted from all consideration, which conduct is\nlikeliest to produce an overbalance of happiness or misery.\" [Footnote:\nDissertations appended to the \"Analogy,\" II, _Of the Nature of\nVirtue_. Cf. DUGALD STEWART, _Outlines of Moral Philosophy_, Part\n2, Sec 348.]\n\nButler thought that justice should be done though the heavens fall; the\nphilosophical intuitionist must maintain that the danger of bringing down\nthe heavens is never to be lost sight of. But this doctrine that there\nare intuitions and intuitions, some ultimately authoritative and others\nnot so, raises the whole question of the validity of intuitions. How are\nwe to distinguish those that are always valid from others? By intuition?\nIntuition appears to be discredited. And if it is proper to demand proof\nthat justice should be done and the truth spoken, why may one not demand\nproof that men should be prudent and benevolent? One may talk of \"an\nimmediate discernment of the nature of things by the understanding\" in\nthe one case as in the other. If error is possible there, why not here?\n\n94. THE VALUE OF MORAL INTUITIONS.--It would not be fair to close this\nchapter on intuitionism, an ethical theory competing with others for our\napproval, without emphasizing the value of the role played by the moral\nintuitions.\n\nThey are the very guide of life, and without them our reasonings would be\nof little service. They should be treated gently, gratefully, with\nreverence. To them human societies owe their stability, their capacity\nfor an orderly development, the smooth working of the machinery of daily\nlife. Their presence does not exclude the employment of reasoning, but\nthey furnish a basis upon which the reason can occupy itself with profit.\nThey are a safeguard against those utopian schemes which would shatter\nour world and try experiments in creation out of nothing.\n\nNevertheless, he who busies himself with ethics as science must study\nthem critically and strive to estimate justly their true significance. He\nmay come to regard them, not as something fixed and changeless, but as\nliving and developing, coming into being, and modifying themselves, in\nthe service of life. Does he dishonor them who so views them?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV\n\nEGOISM\n\n\n95. WHAT IS EGOISM?--Egoism has been defined as \"any ethical system in\nwhich the happiness or good of the individual is made the main criterion\nof moral action,\" [Footnote: _Encyclopedia Britannica_, 11th\nedition.] or as \"the doing or seeking of that which affords pleasure or\nadvantage to oneself, in distinction to that which affords pleasure or\nadvantage to others.\" [Footnote: _Century Dictionary_.]\n\nIt may strike the average reader as odd to be told that such definitions\nbristle with ambiguities, and that it is by no means easy to draw a sharp\nline between doctrines which everyone would admit to be egoistic, and\nothers which seem more doubtfully to fall under that head. \"Happiness,\"\n\"good,\" \"advantage,\" \"self,\" all are terms which call for scrutiny, and\nwhich set pitfalls for the unwary.\n\n96. CRASS EGOISMS.--We may best approach the subject of what may properly\nbe regarded as constituting egoism, by turning first to one or two\n\"terrible examples.\"\n\nNo one would hesitate to call egoistic the doctrine of Aristippus, the\nCyrenaic, the errant disciple of Socrates. He made pleasure the end of\nlife, and taught that it might be sought without a greater regard to\ncustomary morality than was made prudent by the penalties to be feared as\na consequence of its violation. Where the centre of gravity of the system\nof the Cyrenaics falls is evident from their holding that \"corporeal\npleasures are superior to mental ones,\" and that \"a friend is desirable\nfor the use which we can make of him.\" [Footnote: Diogenes Laertius,\n_Lives of the Philosophers,_ \"Aristippus,\" viii.]\n\nThe doctrine of the English philosopher, Thomas Hobbes, is as\nunequivocally egoistic.\n\n\"Of the voluntary acts of every man,\" he writes, [Footnote:\n_Leviathan,_ Part I, xiv.] \"the object is some good to himself;\" and\nagain, [Footnote _Ibid_. xv.] \"no man giveth, but with intention of\ngood to himself; because gift is voluntary; and of all voluntary acts the\nobject is to every man his own good.\"\n\nHe leaves us in no doubt as to the sort of good which he conceives men to\nseek when they practice what has the appearance of generosity. Contract\nhe calls a mutual transference of rights, and he distinguishes gift from\ncontract as follows:\n\n\"When the transferring of right is not mutual, but one of the parties\ntransferreth, in hope to gain thereby friendship, or service from\nanother, or from his friends, or in hope to gain the reputation of\ncharity or magnanimity, _or to deliver his mind from the pain of\ncompassion_, or in hope of reward in heaven, this is not contract but\ngift, free gift, grace, which words signify the same thing.\" [Footnote:\n_Ibid_. I, xiv. The italics are mine. It was thus that Hobbes\naccounted for his giving a sixpence to a beggar: \"I was in pain to\nconsider the miserable condition of the old man; and now my alms, giving\nhim some relief, doth also ease me.\" _Hobbes_, by G. C. ROBERTSON,\nEdinburgh, 1886, p. 206.]\n\nThere is a passage from the pen of the British divine, Paley, which\nappears to merit a place alongside of the citations from Hobbes, widely\nas the men differ in many of their views. It reads:\n\n\"We can be obliged to nothing but what we ourselves are to gain or lose\nsomething by; for nothing else can be a 'violent motion' to us. As we\nshould not be obliged to obey the laws, or the magistrate, unless rewards\nor punishments, pleasure or pain, somehow or other, depended upon our\nobedience; so neither should we, without the same reason, be obliged to\ndo what is right, to practice virtue, or to obey the commandments of\nGod.\" [Footnote: _Moral Philosophy,_ Book II, chapter ii.]\n\n97. EQUIVOCAL EGOISM?--The above is unquestionably egoism. The man who\naccepts such a doctrine and consistently walks in the light must be set\ndown as self-seeking. But self-seeking, as understood by different men,\nappears to take on different aspects. Shall we class all those who\nfrankly accept it as man's only ultimate motive with Aristippus and\nEpicurus and Hobbes?\n\nThomas Hill Green writes: \"Anything conceived as good in such a way that\nthe agent acts for the sake of it, must be conceived as his own good.\"\n[Footnote: _Prolegomena to Ethics,_ Sec 92.] The motive to action is,\nhe maintains, always \"some idea of the man's personal good.\" [Footnote: Sec\nSec 95, 97.] He does not hesitate to say that a man necessarily lives for\nhimself; [Footnote: Sec 138.] and he calls \"the human self or the man\"\n[Footnote: Sec 99.] a self-seeking ego, a self-seeking subject, and a self-\nseeking person. [Footnote: Sec Sec 98, 100, 145.]\n\nWere Green's book a lost work, only preserved to the memories of men by\nsuch citations as the above, the author would certainly be relegated to a\nclass of moralists with which he had, in fact, little sympathy.\n\nBut the book is not lost, and by turning to it we find Green continuing\nthe first of the above citations with the words: \"Though he may conceive\nit as his own good only on account of his interest in others, and in\nspite of any amount of suffering on his own part incidental to its\nattainment.\" He is willing to grant the self-seeking ego an eye single to\nits own interests, but he is careful to explain that: \"These are not\nmerely interests dependent on other persons for the means to their\ngratification, but interests in the good of those other persons,\ninterests which cannot be satisfied without the consciousness that those\nother persons are satisfied.\" [Footnote: Sec 199.]\n\nWhen Hobbes gave an account of \"the passions that incline men to peace,\"\n[Footnote: _Leviathan,_ I, xiii.] he made no mention of the social\nnature of man. That nature Green conceives to be so essentially social\nthat the individual cannot disentangle his own good from the good of his\nfellows. To live \"for himself,\" since that self is a social self, means\nto live for others. May this fairly be called egoistic doctrine?\n\n98. WHAT IS MEANT BY THE SELF?--It is sufficiently clear that the\nhappiness, or good, or advantage, or interests of the individual or self\nmay mean many things. It is equally clear that in our interpretation of\nall such terms our notions of the nature of the self will play no\ninconsiderable role. What is the self?\n\nIn his famous chapter on the Consciousness of Self, [Footnote:\n_Psychology,_ New York, 1890, I, chapter x.] William James\nenumerates four senses of the word. With three of these we may profitably\noccupy ourselves here. He calls them the Material Self, the Social Self\nand the Spiritual Self.\n\nThe innermost part of the material self he makes our body, and next to\nit, in their order, he places our clothes, our family, our home, and our\nproperty. They contribute to our being what we are in our own eyes, we\nidentify ourselves with them, and we experience \"a sense of the shrinkage\nof our personality\" when even the more outlying elements, such as our\npossessions, are lost. \"Our immediate family,\" he writes, \"is a part of\nourselves. Our father and mother, our wife and babes, are bone of our\nbone and flesh of our flesh. When they die, a part of our very selves is\ngone. If they do anything wrong, it is our shame. If they are insulted,\nour anger flashes forth as readily as if we stood in their place.\"\n\nIt is obvious that the limits of the material self, as above understood,\nmay be indefinitely extended. There are men who feel about their country\nas the average normal man feels about his home; and doubtless the\nsuffering of a stray beggar tugged at the heart of St. Francis as the\nmisfortune of wife or child does in the case of other men. How far abroad\nour \"interests\" are to be found, and just what \"interests\" we shall\nregard as intimately and peculiarly our own, depends upon what we are.\n\nThe Social Self James describes as the recognition a man gets from his\nmates: \"We are not only gregarious animals, liking to be in the sight of\nour fellows, but we have an innate propensity to get ourselves noticed,\nand noticed favorably, by our kind.\" Men certainly regard their fame or\nhonor as to be included among their interests, and they may value and\nseek to obtain the good opinion of a very little clique or of a much\nwider circle.\n\nBy the Spiritual Self is meant our qualities of mind and character--\"the\nmost enduring and intimate part of the Self, that which we most verily\nseem to be.\" Our interest in these it is impossible to overlook, and\ntheir cultivation and development may become a ruling passion.\n\nJames's illuminating pages make clear that he who speaks of the advantage\nor interest of the individual may have in mind predominantly any one of\nthese aspects of the Self, or all of them conjointly. The Self as he\nconceives it may be a narrow one, or it may be a very broad one.\n\n99. EGOISM AND THE BROADER SELF.--It may with some plausibility be\nmaintained that he who lives for himself may not properly be regarded as\nan egoist and called selfish, if his Self is sufficiently expanded. May\nit not, theoretically, include as much of the universe as is known to\nman? And where can a man seek ends of any sort beyond this broad field?\nOn this view, all men are, in a sense, self-seeking, but only those are\nreprehensibly self-seeking who have narrow and scanty selves.\n\nBut common sense and the common usage of speech do not sanction such\nstatements as that a man necessarily lives for himself and that all men\nare self-seeking. It is justly recognized that some men with broad\ninterests--of a sort--are self-seeking, and that some others with great\nlimitations are not.\n\nHe who has property scattered over four continents and watches with\nabsorbing interest all movements upon the political and economic stage\nmay nevertheless be a thorough-going egoist. The breadth of his horizon\nwill not redeem him. One may look far afield and live laborious days in\nthe pursuit of fame, and be egoistic to the back-bone, although one's\ninterests, in this case, include even the contents of the minds of\ngenerations yet unborn. One may forego many pleasures and concentrate all\none's efforts upon the attainment of intellectual eminence or of a\nvirtuous character, and yet seem to have a claim to the name of egoist.\n\nThat even the pursuit of virtue may take an egoistic turn has frequently\nbeen recognized: \"Woe betides that man,\" writes Dewey, \"who having\nentered upon a course of reflection which leads to a clearer conception\nof his own moral capacities and weaknesses, maintains that thought as a\ndistinct mental end, and thereby makes his subsequent acts simply means\nto improving or perfecting his moral nature.\" [Footnote: _Ethics_,\nchapter xviii, Sec 3, p. 384.] He characterizes this as one of the worst\nkinds of selfishness. The task set himself by the egoist who aims at\noutshining his fellows in an unselfish self-forgetfulness would seem to\nbe a particularly difficult one; yet we have all met persons who appear\nto be animated by some such desire.\n\n100. Egoism not Unavoidable.--On such cases as the above the common\njudgment can hardly be in doubt. But there are cases more questionable.\nWas Hobbes really self-seeking when he gave the sixpence to the old\nbeggar? Is it egoism that leads the young mother to give herself the\nexquisite pleasure of feeding and caring for her babes? or that induces\nthe patriot to die for his country? To be sure, both the babes and the\nfatherland may fall within the limits of the self, as the psychologist\nhas broadly defined it.\n\nBut they fall within it only in a sense. No doctrine of the mutual\ninclusion of selves can obliterate the distinction between self and\nneighbor, and make my neighbor _merely_ a part of myself. The common\nopinion of mankind is not at fault in basing upon the distinction between\nselves the further distinction between egoism and altruism. Whatever\ninterests the egoist may have, his ultimate motive to action\n_cannot_ be the recognition of the desire or will of another. Such\ncan be the motive of the altruist.\n\nHuman motives are of many sorts, and just what they are it is not always\neasy to discover. Cornelia, in exhibiting her \"jewels,\" may have been\npuffed up with pride. When Cyrano de Bergerac threw, with a noble\ngesture, his purse to the players, his \"Mais quel geste!\" reveals that he\nwas a player himself and was \"showing off.\" There may be spectacular\npatriots, who are willing to suffer the extreme penalty for the sake of a\nplace in history. But all maternal affection is not identical with pride;\nall generous impulses cannot be traced to vanity; all patriotism is not\nspectacular; nor is the motive to the relief of suffering necessarily the\nremoval of one's own pain. It is one thing to hire Lazarus not to exhibit\nhimself in his shocking plight on our front porch, and it is a distinctly\ndifferent thing to be concerned about the needs of Lazarus _per se_.\n\nIt is obvious, then, that it is only by a straining of language that one\ncan say that man necessarily lives for himself, or is unavoidably self-\nseeking. He who makes such statements overlooks the fact that, even if is\ntrue that, in a sense, a man's self may be regarded as coextensive with\nall that interests him, it is equally true that different selves are\nmutually exclusive and that the good of one may serve as the ultimate\nmotive in determining the action of another. The ethnologist is compelled\nto recognize altruistic impulses in men primitive and in men civilized:\n\"Of the doctrine of self-interest as the primary and only genuine human\nmotive, it is sufficient to say that it bears no relation to the facts of\nhuman nature, and implies an incorrect view of the origin of instinct.\"\n[Footnote: HOBHOUSE, _Morals in Evolution_, p. 16]\n\n101. Varieties of Egoism.--The egoist may set his affections upon\npleasure, and become a representative of Egoistic Hedonism, the variety\nof egoism normally treated as typical and made the subject of criticism\nin ethical treatises. But there is nothing to prevent him from making his\naim, not so much pleasure, as self-preservation; or from taking as his\ngoal wealth, power, reputation, intellectual or moral attainment, or what\nnot. [Footnote: Thus, Hobbes made his end self-preservation; Spinoza\ntakes much the same position; Nietzsche makes that which is aimed at,\npower.]\n\nSo long as the motives which impel him to get, to avoid, to be, or to do,\nsomething, do not include, except as means to some ulterior end, the\ndesire or will of his fellow-man, there appears no reason to deny him the\ntitle of \"Egoist.\" Nor need we deny him the title because he may be\nunconscious of his egoism. There are unconscious egoists who are wholly\nabsorbed in the individual objects which are the end of their strivings.\nThey may be quite unaware that they are ruled by self-interest, when it\nis clear to the spectator that such is the case. [Footnote: James,\n_Psychology_, Vol. I, chapter x, pp. 319-321; a baby is\ncharacterized as \"the completest egoist.\"] But the philosophical egoist\nmust rise to a higher plane of reflection.\n\nThere are, thus, egoisms of many sorts, and they may urge men to very\ndifferent courses of conduct. Some of them may pass over more naturally\nthan others into forms of doctrine which are not egoistic at all. He who\naims at a maximum of pleasure for himself is likely to remain an egoist;\nhe whose ambition is to be a patron of science or a philanthropist, may,\nit is true, remain within the circle of the self, but it is quite\npossible that his ulterior aim may come to be forgotten and his real\ninterest be transferred to the enlightenment of mankind or to the relief\nof suffering.\n\nIt is especially worthy of remark that in judging a system of doctrine we\nmust take it as a whole, and not confine ourselves to a few utterances of\nthe man who urges it, however unequivocal they may appear when taken in\nisolation. He whose motive to action is always some idea of his own\npersonal good is an egoist. But a philosopher may hold that human motives\nare always of this sort, and yet reveal unmistakably, both in his life\nand in his writings, that he is not really an egoist at all. In which\ncase, we may tax him with more or less inconsistency, but we should not\nmisconceive him.\n\n102. THE ARGUMENTS FOR EGOISM.--So much for the forms of egoism. It\nremains to enquire what may be urged in favor of the doctrine, and what\nmay be said against it.\n\n(1) It has been urged that egoism is inevitable. This, to be sure, can\nscarcely be regarded as an argument that a man _ought_ to be an\negoist, for there seems little sense in telling a man that he ought to do\nwhat he cannot possibly help doing. But the argument may be used to deter\nus from advocating some other ethical doctrine.\n\n\"On the occasion of every act that he exercises,\" says Bentham, \"every\nhuman being is led to pursue that line of conduct which, according to his\nview of the case, taken by him at the moment, will be in the highest\ndegree contributory to his own greatest happiness.\" [Footnote: _The\nConstitutional Code_. Introduction, Sec 2.]\n\nFrom this we might conclude, not only that every man is an egoist, but\nalso that every man is at all times a prudent and calculating egoist--\nwhich seems to flatter grossly the drunkard and the excited man laying\nabout him in blind fury. But one may hold that egoism is inevitable\nwithout going so far. [Footnote: Psychological Hedonism, the doctrine\nthat \"volition is always determined by pleasures or pains actual or\nprospective,\" need not be thus exaggerated. See SIDGWICK's _Methods of\nEthics_, I, iv, Sec 1.]\n\n(2) The egoistic ideal may be urged upon us on the ground that it\naddresses itself to man as natural and reasonable.\n\nThus, the Cyrenaics saw in the fact that we are from our childhood\nattracted to pleasure, and, when we have attained it, seek no further, a\nproof that pleasure is the chief good. [Footnote: _Diogenes\nLaertius_, II, \"Aristippus,\" Sec 8.] Paley maintains that, when it has\nbeen pointed out that private happiness has been the motive of an act,\n\"no further question can reasonably be asked.\" [Footnote: _Moral\nPhilosophy_, II, Sec 3.] Our citations from Hobbes and Bentham and Green\nreveal that these writers never think of giving reasons why a man should\nseek his own good.\n\nAnd various moralists, who do not make self-interest the one fundamental\nprinciple which should rule human conduct, are evidently loath to make of\nit a principle subordinate to some other. Bishop Butler, who maintains\nthat virtue consists in the pursuit of right and good as such, yet holds\nthat: \"When we sit down in a cool hour, we can neither justify to\nourselves this nor any other pursuit till we are convinced that it will\nbe for our happiness, or at least not contrary to it.\" [Footnote:\n_Sermon_ XI.] Clarke, who dwells upon the eternal and immutable\nobligations of morality \"incumbent on men from the very nature and reason\nof things themselves\" teaches that it is not reasonable for men to adhere\nto virtue if they receive no advantage from it. [Footnote: _Boyle\nLectures_, 1705, Prop. I.]\n\nThe moral here seems to be that, whatever else a man ought to do, he\nought to seek his own advantage--real self-sacrifice cannot be his duty.\nThis conviction of the unreasonableness of self-sacrifice reveals itself\nin another form in the doctrine that morality cannot be made completely\nrational unless a reconciliation between prudence and benevolence can be\nfound; [Footnote: SIDGWICK, _The Methods of Ethics_, concluding\nchapter, Sec 5.] and in the labored attempts to show that the good of the\nindividual must actually coincide with that of the community. [Footnote:\n_E. g._ GREEN, _Prolegomena to Ethics_, Sec Sec 244-245. Aristotle\ntries to prove that he who dies for his country is impelled by self-love.\nHe does what is honorable, and thus \"gives the greater good to himself.\"\n_Ethics_, Book IX, chapter viii.] It may be questioned whether the\nsame conviction did not lurk in the back of the mind of that sternest of\nmoralists, Kant, who denied that happiness ought to be sought at all, and\nyet found so irrational the divorce of virtue and happiness that he\npostulated a God to guarantee their union. [Footnote: _The Critique of\nthe Practical Reason_, chapter ii.]\n\nThus, moralists of widely different schools agree in recognizing that\nself-interest is a principle that should not be placed second to any\nother. The confessed egoist only goes a step further in recognizing it as\na principle that has no rival. And that men generally are inclined to\nregard egoism as not unnatural seems evinced by the fact that for\napparently altruistic actions they are very apt to seek ulterior egoistic\nmotives, while, if the action seems plainly egoistic, they seek no\nfurther.\n\nDoes, then, anything seem more natural than egoism? and, if natural, may\nit not be assumed to be proper and right?\n\n(3) Finally, it may be urged that he who serves his own interests at all\nintelligently has, at least, a comprehensive aim, and does not live at\nrandom. In so far, egoism appears to be rational in a sense dwelt on\nabove; [Footnote: Sec Sec 55-56] it harmonizes and unifies the impulses and\ndesires of the man.\n\n103. THE ARGUMENT AGAINST EGOISM.--What may be said against egoism?\n\n(1) Enough has been said above to show that egoism is not inevitable, but\nthat men actually are influenced by motives which cannot be regarded as\negoistic. It is, hence, not necessary to dwell upon this point.\n\n(2) As to the naturalness of egoism. Both the professional moralist and\nthe man in the street may hesitate to admit that a man should neglect his\nown interests, and may find it natural that he should cultivate them\nassiduously. But it is only the exceptional man who maintains that he\nshould have nothing else in view.\n\nThere are individuals so constituted that self-interest makes to them a\npeculiarly strong appeal. Others, more social by nature, may be misled by\npsychological theory to maintain that a man's chief and only end is his\nown \"satisfaction.\" [Footnote: See below, chapter xxvi, 3.] Still others,\nrealizing that both one's own interests and the interests of one's\nneighbor are natural and seemingly legitimate objects of regard, are\nperplexed as to the method of reconciling their apparently conflicting\nclaims, and are betrayed into inconsistent utterances.\n\nBut it is too much to say that the professional moralist and the plain\nman normally regard pure egoism with favor and find it natural. In spite\nof our cynical maxims and our inclination to seek for ulterior motives\nfor apparently altruistic acts, we abhor the thorough-going egoist, and\nwe are not inclined to look upon the phenomena, let us say, of the family\nlife, as manifestations of self-seeking.\n\nIt is worth while to remark that, even if the approach to the Cyrenaic\nideal were so common as not to seem wholly unnatural, that would not\nprove that it ought to be embraced; it is natural for men to err, but\nthat does not make error our duty.\n\n(3) By the moral conviction of organized humanity, as expressed in\ncustom, law, and public opinion, egoism stands condemned. Neither in\nsavage life nor among civilized peoples, neither in the dawn of human\nhistory nor in its latest chapters, do we find these agencies encouraging\nevery man to live exclusively for himself. Egoistic impulses are\nrecognized, in that reward and punishment are allotted, but the end urged\nupon the attention of the individual is the common good, not his own\nparticular good.\n\nThe social conscience has always demanded of the individual self-\nsacrifice, even to the extent of laying down his life, on occasion, for\nthe public weal. And the enlightened social conscience does not regard a\nman as truly moral whose outward conformity to moral laws rests solely\nupon a basis of egoistic calculation. The very existence of the family,\nthe tribe, the state, is a protest against pure egoism. Were all men as\negoistic as Aristippus seems to have professed to be, a stable community\nlife of any sort would be impossible.\n\n(4) The argument that egoism is rational at least in so far as it\nintroduces consistency into actions and unifies and harmonizes desires\nand impulses deserves little consideration. Any comprehensive end will do\nthe same, and many comprehensive ends may be very trivial. One may make\nit the aim of one's life to remain slender, or may devote all one's\nenergies to the amelioration of the social position of bald-headed men.\nHe who counsels deliberate egoism does not recommend it merely on the\nscore that it leads to consistent action. He does it on the ground that\nthe end itself appeals to him as one that ought to be selected and will\nbe selected if a man is wise. That the interest of the individual is in\nthis sense a matter of obligation, is something to be proved, not\nassumed.\n\n104. THE MORALIST'S INTEREST IN EGOISM--It has been worth while to treat\nat length of egoism because the doctrine takes on more or less subtle\nforms, and its fundamental principle, self-interest, has a significance\nfor various ethical schools which are not, or are not considered,\negoistic. Men have been vastly puzzled by the moral claims of the\nprinciple of self-interest, both plain men and professional moralists.\n\nThat prudence is not the only fundamental virtue, most men would be ready\nenough to admit; but is it properly speaking, a virtue at all?\n_Ought_ I, for example, to try to make myself happy? Suppose I do\nnot want to be happy, what is the source of the obligation?\n\nButler tells me that interest, one's own happiness, is a manifest\nobligation; [Footnote: _Dissertation on the Nature of Virtue_, Sec 8;\n_Sermons_ III and XI.] Bentham, a writer of a widely different\nschool, informs me that \"the constantly proper end of action on the part\nof any individual at the moment of action is his real greatest happiness\nfrom that moment to the end of his life.\" [Footnote: BENTHAM,\n_Memoirs_, Vol. X of Bowring's Edition, Edinburgh, 1843, p. 560.] On\nthe other hand, Hutcheson teaches me that I am under no obligation to be\ngood to myself, although I am under obligation to be good to others:\n\"Actions which flow solely from self-love, and yet evidence no want of\nbenevolence, having no hurtful effects upon others, seem perfectly\nindifferent in a moral sense.\" [Footnote: _An Enquiry concerning Moral\nGood and Evil_, Sec 3, 5.] Which means that intemperance is blameworthy\nonly so far as it is against the public interest.\n\nMay I, should I, on occasion, sacrifice myself? Thoughtful men generally\nrecognize self-sacrifice, not only as possible, but as actual, and\nbelieve it to be at times a duty. But the moralist gives forth here an\nuncertain sound.\n\nSelf-interest and benevolence have been left to fight out their quarrel\nin a court without a judge to decide upon their conflicting claims;\n[Footnote: See Sec 102, the citations from Butler and Clarke.] self-\nsacrifice has been enjoined; [Footnote: KANT, see, later, chapter xxix.]\nit has been declared impossible; [Footnote: See, above, the position of\nGreen, Sec 97; cf., below, Sec 126.] it has been denied that it can ever\nbe a duty; [Footnote: FITE, _An Introductory Study of Ethics_, chapter\nvii, Sec 5.] the kind of self-sacrifice in question has been regarded as\nsignificant. [Footnote: SIDGWICK, _The Methods of Ethics_,\nIntroduction, Sec 4.]\n\nHe who has rejected as unworthy of serious consideration the naive egoism\nof an Aristippus or an Epicurus is not on that account done with egoism,\nby any means. [Footnote: The question of self-sacrifice recurs again in\nchapter xxvi, 3.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV\n\nUTILITARIANISM\n\n\n105. WHAT IS UTILITARIANISM?--The division of things desirable into those\ndesirable in themselves, and those desirable for the sake of something\nelse, is two thousand years old. Those things which we recognize as\ndesirable for the sake of something else, we call useful.\n\nWhat we shall regard as useful depends in each case upon the nature of\nthe end at which we aim. If our aim is the attainment of pleasure, the\npreservation of life, the harmonious development of our faculties, or any\nother, we may term useful whatever makes for the realization of that end.\n\nHence, we can, by stretching the application of the word, call\nutilitarian any ethical doctrine which sets an ultimate end to human\nendeavor and judges actions as moral or the reverse, according to their\ntendency to realize that end, or to frustrate its realization. As the\nends thus chosen may be very diverse, it is obvious that widely different\nforms of utilitarian doctrine may come into being.\n\nIt is, however, inconvenient to stretch the term, \"utilitarianism\" in\nthis fashion. Certain forms of doctrine which, in its wider sense, it\nwould include, have come to be known under names of their own; and,\nbesides, the especial type of utilitarianism advocated by Bentham and\nJohn Stuart Mill appears to have a claim upon the appellation which they\nset in circulation. Common usage has thus limited the significance of the\nword, and we naturally think of the doctrine of these men when we hear it\nuttered. It is in this sense that I shall use it.\n\n\"The creed which accepts as the foundation of morals, Utility, or the\nGreatest Happiness Principle,\" writes Mill, \"holds that actions are right\nin proportion as they tend to promote happiness, wrong as they tend to\nproduce the reverse of happiness. By happiness is intended pleasure, and\nthe absence of pain; by unhappiness, pain and the privation of pleasure.\"\nThis means, he adds, \"that pleasure, and freedom from pain, are the only\nthings desirable as ends; and that all desirable things ... are desirable\neither for the pleasure inherent in themselves, or as means to the\npromotion of pleasure and the prevention of pain.\" [Footnote:\n_Utilitarianism_, chapter ii. In the pages following, when I leave\nout a reference to pain in discussing the utilitarian doctrine, it will\nbe for convenience and for the sake of brevity. The intelligent reader\ncan supply the omissions. ]\n\nThe pleasure here intended is not the selfish pleasure of the individual.\nUtilitarianism is not Cyrenaicism. The goal of the utilitarian's\nendeavors is the general happiness, in which many individuals\nparticipate. The moral rules which control and direct the strivings of\nthe individual derive their authority from their tendency to serve this\nend.\n\n106. BENTHAM'S DOCTRINE.--Most uncompromising is the utilitarianism set\nforth in the writings of Mill's master, that most benevolent and\nphilanthropic of men, Jeremy Bentham. He is true to his principles and he\nmakes no concessions.\n\nHe regards that as in the interest of the individual which tends to add\nto the sum total of his pleasures or to diminish the sum total of his\npains. And he understands in the same sense the interest of the\ncommunity. [Footnote: _Principles of Morals and Legislation_,\nchapter i, Sec 5.] That which serves that interest he sets down as\n\"conformable to the principle of utility.\" What is thus conformable he\ndeclares ought to be done, what is not conformable ought not to be done.\nRight and wrong he distinguishes in the same manner. \"When thus\ninterpreted,\" he insists, \"the words _ought_, and _right_ and\n_wrong_, and others of that stamp, have a meaning; when otherwise,\nthey have none\" [Footnote: _Ibid_., i, 10.]\n\nOf differences in quality between pleasures Bentham takes no account. In\nhis curious and interesting chapter entitled \"Value of a Lot of Pleasure\nor Pain, how to be Measured,\" he enumerates the circumstances which\nshould determine the value of a pleasure or a pain. They are as follows:\n[Footnote: _Ibid_., chapter iv.]\n\n1. Its intensity. 2. Its duration. 3. Its certainty or uncertainty. 4.\nIts propinquity or remoteness. 5. Its fecundity. 6. Its purity. 7. Its\nextent.\n\nThe first four of these characteristics call for no comment. By the\nfecundity of a pleasure Bentham understands its likelihood of being\nfollowed by other pleasures; by its purity, the likelihood that it will\nnot be followed by pains. The characteristic \"extent\" marks off\nutilitarianism from egoism, for it has reference to the number of persons\naffected by the pleasure or the pain. The greater the number, the higher\nthe value in question. The greatest number of pleasures of the highest\nvalue, as free as possible from admixture with pains, is the goal of the\nendeavors of the utilitarian. Naturally, when the interests of many\npersons are taken into account, the question of the principle according\nto which \"lots\" of pleasure are to be distributed becomes a pressing one.\nBentham decides it as follows: \"Everybody to count for one, and nobody\nfor more than one.\" [Footnote: See the discussion of Bentham's dictum in\nits bearings on justice, J. S. Mill, _Utilitarianism_, chapter v.]\nIn other words, the distribution should be an impartial one.\n\nAt first sight, this account of the relative desirability of pleasures\nand undesirability of pains seems sensible enough. Men do desire\npleasure, and they undoubtedly approve the preference given to pleasures\nmore intense, enduring, certain, immediate, fruitful in further\npleasures, free from painful consequences, and shared by many, over those\nwhich have not these characteristics:\n\n  \"_Intense, long, certain, speedy, fruitful, pure_--\n    Such marks in _pleasures_ and in _pains_ endure.\n  Such pleasures seek, if _private_ be thy end:\n    If it be _public_, wide let them _extend_.\n  Such _pains_ avoid, whichever be thy view;\n    If pains _must_ come, let them _extend_ to few.\"\n\n[Footnote: _Principles of Morals and Legislation_, chapter iv, i,\nNote.]\n\nThese mnemonic lines may well strike many readers as embodying a very\ngood working rule of common-sense morality; as paying a proper regard to\nprudence and to benevolence as well. But there are passages in Bentham\ncalculated to shake such acquiescence. He writes:\n\n\"Now pleasure is in _itself_ a good; nay, even setting aside\nimmunity from pain, the only good: pain is in itself an evil, and, indeed\nwithout exception, the only evil; or else the words good and evil have no\nmeaning. And this is alike true of every sort of pain, and of every sort\nof pleasure.\" [Footnote: _Ibid_., chapter x, 10.]\n\n\"Let a man's motive be ill-will; call it even malice, envy, cruelty; it\nis still a kind of pleasure that is his motive: the pleasure he takes at\nthe thought of the pain which he sees, or expects to see, his adversary\nundergo. Now even this wretched pleasure, taken by itself, is good: it\nmay be faint; it may be short; it must at any rate be impure: yet, while\nit lasts, and before any bad consequences arrive, it is as good as any\nother that is not more intense.\" [Footnote: _Ibid_, note.]\n\nReflection upon such passages may well lead a man to ask himself:\n\n(1) Is it, after all, the consensus of human opinion that pleasure is the\nonly good and pain the only evil?\n\n(2) Are some pleasures actually regarded as more desirable than others,\nsolely through the application of the standard given above?\n\n(3) Can the pleasure of a malignant act properly be called _morally_\ngood at all?\n\n107. THE DOCTRINE OF JOHN STUART MILL.--Bentham's purely quantitative\nestimate of the value of pleasures has aroused in many minds the feeling\nthat he puts morality upon a low level. [Footnote: In justice to Bentham\nit must be borne in mind that his prime interest was not in ethical\ntheory, but in legislative reform. His doctrine, such as it was, and\napplied as he applied it, was a tool of no mean efficacy. Bentham must\ncount among the real benefactors of mankind.] Mill attempts an\nimprovement upon his doctrine. \"It is quite compatible with the principle\nof utility,\" he writes, \"to recognize the fact that some _kinds_ of\npleasure are more desirable and more valuable than others. It would be\nabsurd that, while in estimating all other things quality is considered\nas well as quantity, the estimation of pleasures should be supposed to\ndepend on quantity alone.\" [Footnote: _Utilitarianism_, chapter i.]\n\nThus, Mill distinguishes between higher pleasures and lower, and he gives\na criterion for distinguishing the former from the latter: \"Of two\npleasures, if there be one to which all or almost all who have experience\nof both give a decided preference, irrespective of any feeling of moral\nobligation to prefer it, that is the more desirable pleasure.\" He refers\nthe whole matter to the judgment of the \"competent;\" and, in accordance\nwith that judgment, decides that: \"It is better to be a human being\ndissatisfied than a pig satisfied; better to be Socrates dissatisfied\nthan a fool satisfied. And if the fool, or the pig, are of a different\nopinion, it is because they only know their own side of the question. The\nother party to the comparison knows both sides.\" [Footnote: _Ibid_.]\n\nThat some pleasures may properly be called higher than others moralists\nof many schools will be ready to admit, but to Mill's criterion of what\nproves them to be higher they may demur. Of the delight that a fool takes\nin his folly a wise man may be as incapable as a fool is of the enjoyment\nof wisdom. With mature years men cease to be competent judges of the\npleasures of boyhood. To each nature, its appropriate choice of\npleasures. That human beings at a given level of intellectual and\nemotional development actually desire certain things rather than certain\nothers does not prove that those things are desirable in any general\nsense. It does not prove that men _ought_ to desire them. For that\nproof we must look in some other direction; and a critical scrutiny of\nthe pleasures which moralists ancient and modern have generally accepted\nas \"higher\" reveals a common characteristic which explains their being\nthus classed together much better than the appeal to Mill's criterion.\n[Footnote: See chapter xxx, Sec 142.]\n\nAs has often been pointed out, Mill, while defending Utilitarianism,\nreally passes beyond it, and his doctrine tends to merge in one widely\ndifferent from that of Bentham. For the \"Greatest Happiness Principle\" he\nvirtually substitutes the \"Highest Happiness Principle.\" But he scarcely\nrealizes the significance of his substitution, and he gives an inadequate\naccount of the significance of higher and lower.\n\n108. THE ARGUMENT FOR UTILITARIANISM.--We have seen above that Bentham\nmaintains that such words as \"ought,\" \"right\" and \"wrong\" have no meaning\nunless interpreted after the fashion of the utilitarian. He admits that\nhis \"principle of utility\" is not susceptible of direct proof, but claims\nthat such a proof is needless. [Footnote: Principles of Morals and\nLegislation, chapter i, 11.]\n\nAccepting it as a fact revealed by observation that the actual end of\naction on the part of every individual is his own happiness as he\nconceives it, he appears to have passed on without question to the\nfurther positions, that the _proper_ end of action of the individual\nis his own greatest happiness, and, yet, his _proper_ end of action,\nas a member of a community, is the greatest happiness of the community.\n[Footnote: See the paper entitled \"Logical Arrangements, Employed as\nInstruments in Legislation\" etc., _Memoirs_, Bowring's Edition,\nVolume X, page 560.]\n\nThe second of these positions cannot be deduced from the first, nor can\nthe third be inferred from the other two. Bentham appears to have taken\nthe \"principle of utility\" for granted; but one coming after him and\nscrutinizing his work can scarcely avoid raising the question of the\njustice of his assumption. That happiness is the only thing desirable,\nand that the happiness of all should be the object aimed at by each, are\npropositions which seem to stand in need of proof.\n\nSuch proof Mill attempted to furnish. [Footnote: He does not regard his\ndoctrine as provable in the usual sense; but he adduces what he regards\nas \"equivalent to proof.\" _Utilitarianism_, chapter i. ] He argues\nas follows:\n\n\"The only proof capable of being given that an object is visible, is that\npeople actually see it. The only proof that a sound is audible, is that\npeople hear it; and so of the other sources of our experience. In like\nmanner, I apprehend, the sole evidence it is possible to produce that\nanything is desirable, is that people do actually desire it. If the end\nwhich the utilitarian doctrine proposes to itself were not, in theory and\npractice, acknowledged to be an end, nothing could ever convince any\nperson that it was so. No reason can be given why the general happiness\nis desirable, except that each person, so far as he believes it to be\nattainable, desires his own happiness. This, however, being a fact, we\nhave not only all the proof the case admits of, but all which it is\npossible to require, that happiness is a good: that each person's\nhappiness is a good to that person, and the general happiness, therefore,\na good to the aggregate of all persons. Happiness has made out its title\nas _one_ of the ends of conduct, and, consequently one of the ends\nof morality.\" [Footnote: _Utilitarianism_, chapter iv.]\n\nThat happiness is the _only ultimate_ end, Mill regards as\nestablished by the argument that other things, for example, virtue,\nthough they come to be valued for themselves, do so only through the fact\nthat, originally valued as means to the attainment of happiness, they\nbecome, through association, valued even out of this relation, and thus\ntreated as a part of happiness. [Footnote: _Ibid._]\n\nThe defects in Mill's argument have made themselves apparent, not merely\nto the opponents of utilitarianism, but even to its advocates. [Footnote:\nSIDGWICK, _The Methods of Ethics_, Book III, chapter xiii, Sec 5] We\ncannot say that things are desirable in any moral sense, simply because\nthey are desired. In a loose sense of the word, everything that is or has\nbeen desired by anyone is desirable--it evidently can be desired. When we\nsay no more than this, we say nothing. But when we call a course of\naction desirable we mean more than this; and we are compelled to admit\nthat a multitude of desirable things are not generally desired. This is\nthe burden of the lament of every reformer.\n\nFurthermore, it does not appear to follow that, because his own happiness\nis a good to each member of a community, the happiness of all must\nlikewise be a good to each severally. A community in which every man\nstudies his own interest may conceivably be a community in which no man\nregards it as desirable to consult the public weal. That the general\nhappiness is desirable, in a loose sense of the word, is palpable fact;\nit is obvious that it can be desired, for some persons do actually desire\nit. But that it is desirable in any sense cannot be inferred from the\nfact that all men desire something else, namely, their own individual\nhappiness.\n\nWe must, then, look further for the proof of the utilitarian principle.\nHenry Sidgwick, that admirable scholar and most judicial mind, falls back\nupon certain intuitions which, he conceives, present themselves as\nultimate and unassailable. He writes:\n\n\"Let us reflect upon the clearest and most certain of our moral\nintuitions. I find that I undoubtedly seem to perceive, as clearly and\ncertainly as I see any axiom in Arithmetic or Geometry, that it is\n'right' and 'reasonable' for me to treat others as I should think that I\nmyself ought to be treated under similar conditions, and to do what I\nbelieve to be ultimately conducive to universal Good or Happiness.\"\n\nAnd again: \"The propositions, 'I ought not to prefer a present lesser\ngood to a future greater good,' and 'I ought not to prefer my own lesser\ngood to the greater good of another,' do present themselves as self-\nevident; as much (e. g.) as the mathematical axiom that 'if equals be\nadded to equals the wholes are equal.'\" [Footnote: _The Methods of\nEthics_, concluding chapter, Sec 5, and Book III, chapter xiii, Sec 3.]\n\nWhether these intuitions will be accepted as furnishing an indisputably\nsound basis for utilitarianism will depend upon one's attitude toward\nintuitions in general and the list of intuitions one is inclined to\naccept. It is significant that Sidgwick does not accept as self-evident\nsuch subordinate propositions as, \"I ought to speak the truth.\" He\nregards their authority as derived from the Greatest Happiness Principle.\n\n109. THE DISTRIBUTION OF HAPPINESS.--The man who accepts the Greatest\nHappiness Principle as the sole basis of his ethical doctrine is faced\nwith the problem of its application in detail. The \"greatest good of the\ngreatest number\" is a vague expression. What is properly understood by\n\"the greatest number\"? and upon what principle shall \"lots\" of happiness\nbe assigned to each? Very puzzling questions arise when we approach the\nproblem of the distribution of pleasures and the calculation of their\nvalues. Let us look at them.\n\nI. Who should be considered in the Distribution?\n\n(1) Shall we aim directly at the happiness of all men now living? or\nshall we content ourselves with a smaller number? Certainly, with\nincreasing intelligence and broadening sympathies, men tend toward a more\nembracing benevolence.\n\n(2) Shall we admit to the circle generations yet unborn? and, if so, how\nfar into the future should we look?\n\n(3) Should we make a deliberate attempt to increase the number of those\nwho may share the common fund of happiness, by striving for an increase\nin the number of births? This end has been consciously sought for divers\nreasons. The ancestor-worship of China has made the Chinaman eagerly\ndesirous of leaving behind him those who would devote themselves to him\nafter he has departed this life. Nations ancient and modern have\nendeavored to strengthen the state by providing for an increase in its\npopulation. Shall a similar end be pursued for the ethical purpose of\nwidening the circle of those who shall live and be happy? Most ethical\nteachers do not appear to have regarded this as a corollary to the\ndoctrine of benevolence.\n\n(4) Shall we enlarge the circle so as to include the lower animals? As\nBentham expressed it: The question is not, \"Can they _reason_? nor,\nCan they _talk_? but, Can they _suffer_?\" [Footnote: _Principles of Morals\nand Legislation_, chapter xvii, Sec 4.]\n\nII. How should the \"lots\" of happiness be measured?\n\n(1) Should everybody count as one, and nobody as more than one? in other\nwords, should strict impartiality be aimed at?\n\nDr. Westermarck's striking reply to the argument for impartiality as\nurged by Professor Sidgwick has already been quoted. [Footnote: See\nchapter v, Sec 16.] Let the reader glance at it again.\n\nIt must be confessed that to put one's parents, one's children, one's\nneighbors, strangers, foreigners, the brutes, all upon the same level, is\ncontrary to the moral judgment of savage and civilized alike. It would\nseem contrary to the sentiments which lie at the root of the family, the\ncommunity, and the state. Nor have we reason to look forward to any\nfuture state of human society in which such lesser groups within the\nbroad circle of humanity will be done away with, though they tend to\nbecome less exclusive in their demands upon human sympathy.\n\n(2) Suppose that the greatest sum of happiness on the whole could be best\nattained by an unequal distribution--by making a limited number very\nhappy at the expense of the rest. Would this be justifiable? It would be\nin harmony with the Greatest Happiness Principle, though not with the\nprinciple of the greatest happiness equally shared.\n\nIII. The question of the distribution of happiness in the life of the\nindividual is not one to be ignored. If we are concerned only with the\nquantity of happiness, may we not take as the ethical precept \"a short\nlife and a merry one\"--provided the brief span of years be merry enough,\nand there be no objection to the choice on the score of harm to others?\n\nThis problem is closely analogous to that of the distribution of\npleasures to those who compose the \"greatest number\" taken into account.\nThere we were concerned with the shares allotted to individuals; here we\nare concerned with the shares assigned to the different parts of a single\nlife. In the attempt to solve the problem, Bentham's criteria of\nintensity, certainty, purity, etc., might naturally be appealed to.\n\n110. THE CALCULUS OF PLEASURES.--Nor are the problems which meet us less\nperplexing when we pass from questions of the distribution of pleasures\nto that of the calculus of pleasures. How are delights and miseries to be\nweighed, and reasonably balanced?\n\n(1) Men desire pleasure, and they desire to avoid pain. The two seem to\nbe opposed. But men constantly accept pleasures which entail some\nsuffering, and they avoid pains even at the expense of some pleasure.\nAre, however, pleasures and pains strictly commensurable? How much\nadmixture of pain is called for to reduce the value of a pleasure to\nzero? and how much pleasure, added to a pain, will make the whole\nemotional state predominantly a pleasurable one? A disagreeable taste and\nan agreeable odor may be experienced together, but they cannot be treated\nas an algebraic sum. If we do so treat them, we seem to fall back upon\nthe assumption that the mere fact that the heterogeneous complex is\naccepted or rejected is evidence that its ingredients have been measured\nand compared. This is an ungrounded assumption.\n\n(2) Undoubtedly men prefer intense pleasures to mild ones, and those\nlong-continued to those which are fleeting. But what degree of intensity\nwill overbalance what period of duration? Here, again, we appear to be\nwithout a unit of measure, both in the case of pleasures and of pains.\n\n(3) Obviously, he who would distribute pleasures with impartiality must\ntake into consideration the natures and capacities of the recipients. All\nare not susceptible of pleasure in the same degree, nor are all capable\nof enjoying the same pleasures. It is small kindness to a cat to offer it\nhay; nor will the miser thank us for the opportunity to enjoy the\npleasures of liberality. The gift which arouses deep emotion in one man,\nwill leave another cold. The diversity of natures would make the calculus\nof pleasures, in any accurate sense of the expression, a most difficult\nproblem, even if such a calculus were admissible in the case of a single\nindividual. [Footnote: This difficulty has not been overlooked by the\nUtilitarian, see BENTHAM, _Principles of Morals and Legislation_,\nchapter vi.]\n\nIII. THE DIFFICULTIES OF OTHER SCHOOLS.--It would be unjust to the\nutilitarian not to point out that those who advocate other doctrines must\nfind some way of coping with the difficulties which embarrass him.\n\nThus, the egoist may ignore duties to others, but he cannot free himself\nfrom the problems of the distribution of happiness in his own life and of\nthe calculus of pleasures. The intuitionist, who, among other precepts,\naccepts as ultimate those enjoining upon him justice and benevolence, may\nwell ask himself toward whom these virtues are to be exercised, and\nwhether the claims of all who belong to the class in question are\nidentical in kind and degree. If they are not, he must find some rule for\nestimating their relative importance. He who makes it his moral ideal to\nFollow Nature, to Strive for Perfection, or to Realize his Capacities,\nmust determine in detail what conduct, self-regarding and other-\nregarding, the acceptance of such aims entails. Only the unreflective can\nregard the utilitarian as having a monopoly of the difficulties which\nface the moralist. The vague general statement that we should strive to\nrender others happy--a duty recognized by men of very different schools--\nnever frees us from the perplexities which arise when it is asked: What\nothers? With what degree of impartiality? When? By what means? But that\nsuch questions can be approached by a path more satisfactory than that\nfollowed by the utilitarian, there is good reason to maintain. [Footnote:\nSee, below, chapter xxx, Sec Sec 140-142.]\n\n112. SUMMARY OF ARGUMENTS FOR UTILITARIANISM.--It is worth while to\nsummarize what may be said for utilitarianism, and what may be said\nagainst it. It may be argued in its favor:\n\n(1) That it appears to set as the aim of human endeavor, an intelligible\nend, and a fairly definite one. Everyone has some notion of what\nhappiness means, and is not without ideas touching the way to seek his\nown happiness, or to contribute to that of others.\n\n(2) The end is one actually desired by men at all stages of intellectual\nand moral development. Men are impelled to seek their own happiness, and\nthere are few who do not feel impelled to take into consideration, to\nsome degree, at least, the happiness of some others.\n\n(3) The general happiness is not merely desired by some men, but it is\nfelt to be _desirable;_ that is, it is an end not out of harmony\nwith the moral judgments of mankind. It makes its appeal to the social\nnature of man; it seems to furnish a basis for the exercise of\nbenevolence and justice.\n\n(4) The utilitarian's clear recognition of the general happiness as the\nultimate end of human endeavor, and his insistence that institutions,\nlaws and moral maxims must be judged solely by their fitness to serve as\nmeans to that end, have made him an energetic apostle of reform, and\nintolerant of old and passively accepted abuses. His insistence upon the\nprinciple of impartiality in the distribution of happiness has made him a\nchampion of the inarticulate and the oppressed. Whatever one may think of\nhis abstract principles, the general character of the specific measures\nhe has advocated must meet with the approval of enlightened moralists of\nvery different schools.\n\n113. ARGUMENTS AGAINST UTILITARIANISM.--Against utilitarianism as an\nethical theory various objections have been brought or may be brought.\n\n(1) Objection may be taken to the utilitarian assumption that the only\nultimate object of desire is pleasure or happiness.\n\nIt was pointed out forcibly by Bishop Butler in the eighteenth century\nthat men desire many things besides pleasure. Man's desires are an\noutcome of his nature, and that results in \"particular movements towards\nparticular external objects\"--honor, power, the harm or good of another.\n[Footnote: _Sermons_, Preface, Sec 29; cf. Sermon XI.] To be sure, \"no\none can act but from a desire, or choice, or preference of his own,\" but\nthis is no evidence that what he seeks in acting is always pleasure.\nParticular passions or appetites are, Butler ingeniously argues,\n\"necessarily presupposed by the very idea of an interested pursuit; since\nthe very idea of interest or happiness consists in this, that an appetite\nor affection enjoys its object.\"\n\nHere we find our attention called to a very important truth, the\nsignificance of which there is danger of our overlooking. Pleasure or\nhappiness is not something that can be parcelled up and handed about\nindependently of the nature of the recipient. It is not everyone who can\ndesire everything and feel pleasure in its attainment. That the objects\nof desire and will are many, and that the strivings of conscious\ncreatures have in view many ends, and vary according to the impulsive and\ninstinctive endowments of the creatures in question, has been well\nbrought out in the admirable studies of instinct which we now have at our\ndisposal. The most ardent devotee of pleasure must recognize, that only\ncertain pleasures are open to him; that, such as they are, they are a\nrevelation of his nature and capacities; that pleasures, if sought at\nall, cannot be secured directly, but only as the result of a successful\nstriving for objects not pleasures, which bring pleasure as their\naccompaniment. He who would have the pleasure of eating must desire food;\nand neither food, nor the eating of food, can be regarded as, _per\nse_, pleasure. The pleasure of the brooding hen is beyond the reach of\nman, who, however pleasure-loving, cannot desire to sit upon eggs, and so\nmust forego the pleasure which, in the case of the bird, crowns that\nexercise.\n\nSuch considerations as the above have led some moralists to define, as\nthe end of desire, not pleasure, but self-satisfaction. Every desire, it\nis pointed out, strives to satisfy itself in the attainment of its\nappropriate object. With the attainment of the object, the desire has\nproduced its proper fruit and ceases to be. It is admitted that the\nsatisfaction of desire is accompanied by pleasure, but it is denied that\nthe pleasure may be properly called the object of the desire, or regarded\nas calling it into being: \"The appetite of hunger must precede and\ncondition the pleasure which consists in its satisfaction. It cannot\ntherefore have that pleasure for its exciting object.\" [Footnote: GREEN,\n_Prolegomena to Ethics_, Book III, chapter i, Sec 161. See also Book\nII, chapter ii, Sec 131; Book III, chapter i, Sec Sec 154-160.]\n\nAt the same time it is conceded that the idea of a pleasure to be\nattained may \"reinforce\" the desire for an object, may \"intensify the\nputting forth of energy,\" and may tend \"to sustain and prolong any mode\nof action.\" [Footnote: _Prolegomena to Ethics_, Sec 161; DEWEY,\n_Ethics_, chapter xiv, Sec 1, p. 271; MCDOUGALL, _Social\nPsychology_, London, 1916, p. 43.] It is further conceded that\npleasures may be consciously aimed at, but it is urged that this does not\nresult in true self-satisfaction, and is evidence of the existence of\nunhealthy desires. [Footnote: _Prolegomena to Ethics_, Sec 158; DEWEY,\n_Ethics_ p. 270.]\n\nThe utilitarian is not wholly helpless in the face of such objections. He\nmay argue that, if it is difficult to see how a pleasure which is the\nresult of a desire may cause the desire, it is equally difficult to see\nhow it may prolong, reinforce or intensify it. And he may maintain that,\nalthough the pursuit of pleasure, in certain forms, is calculated to\ndefeat its own aim and is undoubtedly unhealthy, this need not be the\ncase if one's aim be the true utilitarian one--the happiness of all. The\ndirect attack upon his Greatest Happiness Principle which consists in the\nobjection that, if pleasure is the only object of desire, a sum of\npleasures, as not being a pleasure, cannot be desired, [Footnote:\n_Prolegomena to Ethics_, Sec 221.] he can put aside with the remark\nthat no far-reaching and comprehensive aim can be realized at one stroke.\nI can desire a long and useful life; this cannot be had all at once. I\ncan desire a long life full of pleasures; this cannot be enjoyed all at\nonce either. But each can certainly be the object of desire.\n\nBut, when all is said, it remains true that the contention of those, who\ndistinguish sharply between the satisfaction of desire and the attainment\nof pleasure, is of no little importance. It calls our attention to the\nfollowing truths:\n\n(a) We have definite instincts and impulses which tend to satisfy\nthemselves with their appropriate objects.\n\n(b) At their first exercise, our aim could not have been the pleasure\nresulting from their satisfaction, for that could not have been foreseen.\n\n(c) Although, after experience, the attainment of pleasure may come to be\nour aim in the exercise of many activities, and may often, as far as we\ncan see, be a natural and not unwholesome aim; it is by no means evident\nthat, even when we are experienced and reflective, the exercise of our\nfaculties comes to be regarded _only_ as a means to the attainment\nof pleasure.\n\n(d) The hedonist, in maintaining that pleasure is the only ultimate\nobject of desire, appears, thus, to be committed to the doctrine that the\nsatisfaction of all other desires is subordinated to the satisfaction of\nthe desire for pleasure. For this position he can furnish no adequate\nproof. Self-evident the doctrine is not.\n\n(e) It is incumbent upon him, as a moralist, to prove, not merely that\nall other satisfactions are, but also that they _ought_ to be\nsubordinated to the satisfaction of the desire for pleasure. This he\nappears to assume without proof.\n\n(2) We have seen above [Footnote: See Sec 108.] that the fundamental\nprinciple of utilitarian hedonism, as against egoistic, namely, the\nmaking the Greatest Happiness of the Greatest Number the object of the\nendeavors of each individual, has not been satisfactorily established by\nleading utilitarians. Bentham assumes the principle; Mill advances a\ndoubtful argument; Sidgwick falls back upon intuitions which all will not\nadmit to be indubitable. To his assertion: \"Reason shows me that if my\nhappiness is desirable and a good, the equal happiness of any other\nperson must be equally desirable,\" [Footnote: _The Methods of\nEthics_, Book III, chapter xiv, Sec 5.] the doubter may reply: Desirable\nto whom? to him or to me?\n\n(3) Finally, it may be objected that the consistent utilitarian, in\nmaking pleasure, abstractly taken, the only ultimate good, and in\nregarding as the sole criterion of right actions their tendency to\nproduce pleasure, really tears pleasure out of its moral setting\naltogether.\n\nThus Bentham's contention [Footnote: Sec 106, above.] that the pleasure a\nman may derive from the exercise of malice or cruelty is, \"taken by\nitself,\" good--while it lasts, and before any bad consequences have set\nin, as good as any other that is not more intense--derives what\nplausibility it has, from an ambiguity in the word \"good.\" Pleasure,\ntaken by itself, is undoubtedly pleasure, whatever be its source. To\naffirm this is mere tautology. And, if we chose to make \"good\" but a\nsynonym for pleasure, we remain in the same tautology when we affirm that\nevery pleasure is a good. But Bentham assumed that good in this sense and\nmoral good are the same thing.\n\nHis assumption is not borne out by the moral judgments of mankind. Even a\ncursory view of those moral judgments as revealed in customs, laws and\npublic opinion makes it evident that, under certain circumstances,\npleasure is regarded as, from a moral standpoint, a good, and, under\nother circumstances, an evil. Torn out of its setting, it is simply\npleasure, a psychological phenomenon like any other, with no ethical\nsignificance.\n\nTake the case of the pleasure enjoyed by the malignant man. It may be\nintense, if he be peculiarly susceptible to such pleasure. The pain\nsuffered by his victim may conceivably be less intense. Both may die\nbefore the \"bad consequences,\" that is to say, other pains, arrive. There\nmay be no spectators. Is, in such a case, the pleasure one to be called a\n\"good\"? Can it _be approved?_ No reflective moralist would maintain\nthat it can. Which means that the moralists, in all ages, have meant by\n\"good\" something more than pleasure, taken abstractly, and that Bentham's\nassumption may be regarded as an aberration.\n\n114. TRANSFIGURED UTILITARIANISM.--It is possible to hold to a\nutilitarianism more circumspect and less startling than Bentham's. It is\npossible, while maintaining that pleasure is the only thing that an\nexperienced and reasonable being can regard as ultimately desirable, to\nmaintain at the same time that it is rash for any man to attempt to seek\nhis own happiness, or to strive to promote the general happiness, without\ntaking into very careful consideration the instincts and impulses of man\nand the nature of the social organization which has resulted from man's\nbeing what he is. One may argue that the experience of the race is, as a\nrule, a safer guide than the independent judgment of the individual; and\nthat, in the secular endeavor to compass the general happiness, it has\ndiscovered the paths to that goal which may most successfully be\nfollowed. Thus, one may distrust Utopian schemes, recognizing the\nsignificance of custom, law, traditional moral maxims, and public\nopinion, and yet remain a utilitarian.\n\nBut he who does this must still answer the preceding objections. He must\nprove: (1) That pleasure is the only thing ultimately desirable; (2) that\neach is under obligation to promote the pleasure of all; (3) that its\nmere conduciveness to the production of a preponderance of pleasure makes\nan action right, even though the pleasure be a malicious one, as in the\nillustration above given.\n\nStill, his doctrine has become less startling, and he has moved in the\ndirection of a greater harmony with the moral judgments of men generally.\nThe conduct he recommends need not, as a rule, differ greatly from that\nrecognized as right by moralists of quite different schools.\n\nSuch a utilitarian may easily pass over to a form of doctrine which is\nnot utilitarian at all. Thus, Sidgwick asks whether there is a measurable\nquality of feeling expressed by the word \"pleasure,\" which is independent\nof its relation to volition, and strictly undefinable from its\nsimplicity--\"like the quality of feeling expressed by 'sweet,' of which\nalso we are conscious in varying degrees of intensity;\" and he answers:\n\"For my own part, when the term (pleasure) is used in the more extended\nsense which I have adopted, to include the most refined and subtle\nintellectual and emotional gratifications, no less than the coarser and\nmore definite sensual enjoyments, I can find no common quality in the\nfeelings so designated except some relation to desire or volition.\"\n[Footnote: _The Methods of Ethics_, Book II, chapter ii, Sec 2, 4th\nEdition. SIDGWICK never appreciably modified this opinion, which is most\nclearly expressed in the Edition quoted.]\n\nWhen we seek, then, to \"give pleasure,\" are we doing nothing else than\ngiving recognition to the desire and will of our neighbor? What has\nbecome of the Greatest Happiness Principle? Has it not dissolved into the\ndoctrine of the Real Social Will?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI\n\nNATURE, PERFECTION, SELF-REALIZATION\n\n\nI. NATURE\n\n115. HUMAN NATURE AS ACCEPTED STANDARD.--The three doctrines, that the\nnorm of moral action is to follow nature, that it is to aim at the\nattainment of perfection, and that it is the realization of one's\ncapabilities, have much in common. They may conveniently be treated in\nthe same chapter.\n\nEarly in the history of the ethics we find the moralist preaching that it\nis the duty of man to follow nature, and branding vice as unnatural and,\nhence, to be abhorred.\n\nThe word \"nature,\" thus used, has had a fluctuating meaning. Sometimes\nthe thought has been predominantly of human nature, and sometimes the\nappeal has been to nature in a wider sense.\n\nAristotle, who finds the \"good\" of man in happiness or \"well-being,\"\npoints out that this is something relative to man's nature. The well-\nbeing of a man he conceives as, in large part, \"well-doing,\" and well-\ndoing he defines as performing the proper functions of a man. [Footnote:\n_Nichomachean Ethics_, Book I, chapters iv, vii, viii.] If we ask\nhim what is proper or natural to man, he refers us to what man, when\nfully developed, becomes: \"What every being is in its completed state,\nthat certainly is the nature of that thing, whether it be a man, a house,\nor a horse.\" [Footnote: _Politics_, i, 2.] He conceives man's\nnature, thus, as that which it is in man to become. Toward this end man\nstrives; and it is this which furnishes him with the law of his action.\n\nBut, it may be asked, how shall this end be defined in detail? Individual\nmen, who arrive at mature years, are by no means alike. Some we approve;\nsome we disapprove. We evidently appeal to a standard by which the\nindividual is judged. The appeal to the nature of man helps us little\nunless we can agree upon what we may accept as a just revelation of that\nnature--a pattern of some sort, divergence from which may be called\nunnatural, and is to be reprobated.\n\nNeither Aristotle, nor those who, after him, took human nature as the\nmoral norm, were without some conception of such a pattern. They kept in\nview certain things that men may become rather than certain others. They\naccepted as their standard a type of human nature which tends, on the\nwhole, to realize itself more and more in the course of development of\nhuman communities. But as different human societies differ more or less\nin the characteristics which they tend to transmit to their members, in\nthe kind of man whom they tend to form, we find the ideal of human\nnature, with which we are presented, somewhat vague and fluctuating.\nDifferent traits are dwelt upon by different moralists. Still, the\nappeals to human nature have a good deal in common; upon man's rational\nand social qualities especial stress is apt to be laid.\n\n116. HUMAN NATURE AND THE LAW OF NATURE.--\"Every nature,\" said Marcus\nAurelius, [Footnote: _Thoughts_, translated by George Long, viii,\n7.] \"is contented with itself when it goes on its way well; and a\nrational nature goes on its way well, when in its thoughts it assents to\nnothing false or uncertain, and when it directs its movements to social\nacts only, and when it confines its desires and aversions to the things\nwhich are in its power, and when it is satisfied with everything that is\nassigned to it by the common Nature.\"\n\nIn the last clause the Stoic turns from the contemplation of man's\nnature, taken by itself, and dwells upon the nature of the universe,\nwhich he conceives to be controlled by reason. He thus gains an added\nargument for the obligations laid upon man by his own nature. He writes:\n\n\"Every instrument, tool, vessel, if it does that for which it has been\nmade, is well, and yet he who made it is not there. But in the things\nwhich are held together by Nature there is within and there abides in\nthem the power which made them; wherefore the more is it fit to reverence\nthis power, and to think that, if thou dost live and act according to its\nwill, everything in thee is in conformity to intelligence.\" [Footnote:\n_Ibid_ vi, 40.]\n\nThe law of man's nature is, thus, regarded as a part of the law of\nNature--\"We are all working together to one end, some with knowledge and\ndesign, and others without knowing what they do.\" [Footnote: _Ibid_,\nvi, 42.] And, this being the case, man may take pattern, when he is\ninclined to fall below the standard of duty appropriate to him, by\nconsidering humbler creatures: \"Dost thou not see the little plants, the\nlittle birds, the ants, the spiders, the bees working together to put in\norder their several parts of the universe? And art thou unwilling to do\nthe work of a human being? And dost thou not make haste to do that which\nis according to thy nature?\" [Footnote: Ibid, v, 1. ] The delinquent is,\nhence, judged guilty, not merely of derogation from his high estate, but\nalso of impiety. [Footnote: Ibid, ix, 1. ]\n\n117. VAGUENESS OF THE LAW OF NATURE.--The question of the influence of\nreligious belief upon a theory of morals I shall discuss elsewhere.\n[Footnote: See chapter xxxvi.] Here it is only necessary to point out\nthat, if there is vagueness in the appeal to human nature, it can\nscarcely be dissipated satisfactorily by simply turning to Nature in a\nbroader sense. Shall we, when in doubt as to human behavior, copy that of\nthe brutes? The industry of some humble creatures it seems edifying to\ndwell upon; but from the fact that bees are stung to death by their\nsisters in the hive, or that the spider is given to devouring her mate,\nwe can hardly draw a moral lesson for man.\n\nThe appeal to a Law of Nature so often made in the history of ethical\nspeculation has furnished but a vague and elusive norm. He who makes it\nis apt to fall back upon the moral intuitions with which he is furnished,\nand to pack a greater or less number of them into his notion of Natural\nLaw. [Footnote: See SIR HENRY MAINE'S fascinating chapters on the \"Law of\nNature,\" Ancient Law, chapters in and iv. The innumerable appeals to the\nLaw of Nature contained in Grotius's famous work on the \"Law of War and\nPeace\" are very illuminating. ]\n\nIn Cicero, Nature becomes fairly garrulous to man on all matters of\ndeportment: \"Let us follow Nature, and refrain from whatever lacks the\napproval of eye and ear. Let attitude, gait, mode of sitting, posture at\ntable, countenance, eyes, movement of the hands, preserve the\nbecomingness of which I speak.\" [Footnote: _De Officiis_, i, 35,\ntranslated by Peabody,]\n\n118. THE APPEAL TO NATURE AND INTUITIONISM.--The moralists who urge us\nto follow nature, whether human nature or Nature in a wider sense, we\nmay, hence, regard as intuitionists of a sort. Those who emphasize human\nnature evidently depend upon their moral intuitions to give them\ninformation as to its characteristics. It is intuition that paints for\nthem their pattern. They do not take man as they actually find him; they\ncall for the suppression of some traits, and the exaggeration of others.\n\nNor are those who appeal to Nature in a wider sense less guided by moral\nintuitions. The appeal is never made without restrictions and\nlimitations. No one dreams that the bird, the ant, the spider, the bee,\ncan be regarded as satisfactory teachers of morals to human beings. Each\nmay be occupied in putting in order its corner of the universe; but the\norder attained is not a human order, and there is in it much that is\nrevolting to the moral judgments of mankind. Man must have a standard of\nhis own. He listens to Nature only when she tells him what he already\napproves.\n\nAs a form of intuitionism the doctrine of following.. nature may be\ncriticised in much the same way as other forms. One great merit it has.\nIt calls attention to the fact that ethics is a discipline which has no\nsignificance abstracted from the nature of man. It appears absurd to say\nthat man ought to do what it is not in man, under any conceivable\ncircumstances, to do. And, like other forms of intuitionism, it has the\nmerit of avoiding that short-circuiting which may easily prove seductive\nto the egoist or the utilitarian. He who accepts as his end either his\nown happiness or that of men generally may easily be induced to take\nshort cuts to that end, and pay little attention to moral maxims as such.\nHe may treat lightly that great system of rules and observances by which\nmen are guided in their relations with one another, and which prevent\nhuman societies from relapsing into a chaos.\n\nOn the other hand, the follower of nature, like other intuitionists, may\neasily be thrown into perplexity by the fact that what seems to him\nnatural, and, hence, right, may not be approved by other men. He cannot\n_prove_ that he is right and they are wrong. He appears condemned to\ntake refuge in subjective conviction, that is, in mere dogmatism.\n\n\nII. PERFECTION\n\n119. PERFECTION AND TYPE.--When we speak of a thing as more or less\nperfect, we commonly mean that it is more or less perfect in its kind. A\ngood saw makes a poor razor; a good chair, a more than indifferent bed. A\nbee crushed by a blow, a bird with a broken wing, we regard as imperfect.\nBut it scarcely occurs to us to ask ourselves whether the bee is more or\nless perfect than the bird, or the bird than the spider. Swift's\nHouyhnhnms at their best could not be either perfect horses or perfect\nmen. They were creatures with a perfection of their own, and one\nappropriate to their hybrid nature.\n\nTo every creature its own perfection. This principle men seem to assume\ntacitly in their judgments. They set up a standard for each kind, and\nthey conceive the individual to attain or to fall short, according to the\ndegree of its approach to, or of its divergence from, the allotted\nstandard.\n\nIf we take perfection in this sense--and we usually have no other sense\nin mind in our judgments of perfection--the doctrine that it is the\nwhole duty of man to strive to attain to perfection is none other than\nthe doctrine that it is his duty to follow nature, his proper nature as\nman. And any difficulties which may legitimately be urged upon the\nattention of the moralist who recommends the following of nature may with\nequal justice be urged upon the attention of him who exhorts us to aim at\nperfection.\n\nThus, if it is doubtful just what nature demands of us, it seems no less\ndoubtful what obligations are laid upon us when we make perfection our\ngoal. That goal cannot mean for each man simply the developing to the\nutmost of all the capacities which he possesses. There are men rich in\nthe possibilities of sloth, of indifference to future good, of egoism,\neven of malignant feeling. Nor does the average man furnish the pattern\nof perfection. The perfectionist does not regard the average man as the\nembodiment of his ideal. He seeks to better him.\n\nThat, in striving to attain perfection, a man should remain a man, with\nessentially human characteristics, seems evident. But what sort of a man\nhe should be is not as clear. Until we are in a position to give some\nreasoned account of what we mean by perfection as an ideal, and to show\nthat it is a desirable goal for man, we appear to be setting up but a\nvague end for human endeavor, and to be assuming intuitively that it is a\ndesirable end.\n\n120. MORE AND LESS PERFECT TYPES.--So much for perfection as synonymous\nwith the ideal human nature of which ancient and modern moralists have\ntreated. It appears, however, possible to use the word \"perfection\" in a\nsomewhat different sense.\n\nMan is not merely man; he is a living being, and there are living beings\nof many orders. The plants, the simpler forms of animal life, the brutes\nwhich we recognize as standing nearer to us, and man may, from this point\nof view, be referred to the one series. Some members of this series we\ncharacterize as lower, and others we speak of as higher in the scale.\n\nNow, such designations as higher and lower cannot be applied\nindiscriminately. There is little sense in the assertion that a bit of\nstring is higher than a straight line, or a hat than a handkerchief. Some\nsignificant basis of comparison must be present. Things must be\nrecognized as approximating to or diverging from an accepted standard in\nvarying degrees.\n\nSuch a basis of comparison is present when some objects possess the same\nqualities in a more marked degree than do others. But this is not the\nonly possible basis of comparison. We may assume that the possession of\ncertain qualities marks a creature as higher, and that the creature which\nhas them not, or has them imperfectly developed, thereby stamps itself as\nbeing of a lower order.\n\nSomething like this appears to determine our judgments when we assign to\nvarious creatures their place in the scale of living beings. We do not\nmean that the higher possess to a greater degree all the capacities\npossessed by the lower. Many things which the plant does man cannot do at\nall; and, among the animals, those which we recognize as higher may be\nlacking in many capacities present in a marked degree in the lower. In\nranking one living creature as higher, and, thus, as more perfect, than\nanother, we assume that the \"nature\" of the one, with its various\ncapacities and lacks of capacity, is, on the whole, of more _worth_\nthan the \"nature\" of another.\n\nIt might be maintained that, in his estimate of the worth of different\nkinds of beings man is influenced by his partiality for the distinctively\nhuman, rating creatures as lower or higher in proportion to their\ndivergence from or approximation to his own type. Undoubtedly this plays\na part in men's judgments. We are partial to ourselves. And yet judgments\nof perfection and imperfection cannot wholly be explained on this\nprinciple.\n\n\"I think we must admit without proof,\" writes Professor Janet, [Footnote:\nThe Theory of Morals, Book I, chapter iii, English translation, New York,\n1883, p. 48.] a brilliant apostle of the doctrine of perfection, \"that\nthings are good, even independently of the pleasure which they give us,\nin themselves and by themselves, because of their intrinsic excellence.\nIf anyone were to demand that I should prove that thought is worth more\nthan digestion, a tree more than a heap of stones, liberty than slavery,\nmaternal love than luxury, I could only reply by asking him to\ndemonstrate that the whole is greater than one of its parts. No sensible\nperson denies that, in passing from the mineral kingdom to the vegetable\nkingdom, from this to the animal kingdom, from the animal to man, from\nthe savage to the enlightened citizen of a free country, Nature has made\na continual advance; that is to say, at each step has gained in\nexcellence and perfection.\"\n\nOne is naturally impelled to ask from what point of view things so\ndisparate as the mineral, the plant, the brute, man, thought and\ndigestion, liberty and slavery, can be compared with one another at all,\nand referred to any sort of a series. What is, in its essence, this\nexcellence or perfection of which we have more shining evidence as we go\nup in the scale? Janet identifies it with intensity of being, with\nactivity. The greater the activity, the greater the perfection.\n\nTo the identification of perfection and activity we may hesitate to\nassent. It does not seem clear that there is greater activity manifested\nin a snail than in a burning house, in maternal love than in furious\nhate, in quiet thought than in passion. Yet it seems significant that\njudgments of worth do not appear out of place in comparing such things.\n\n121. PERFECTIONISM AND INTUITIONISM.--Taking into consideration all that\nis said above, it seems not unreasonable to conclude:\n\n(1) That in speaking of the perfection of any creature we very often\njudge it only by the standard set by its own type. We regard it as a good\nspecimen of its kind.\n\n(2) But when we use perfection in a wider sense, we judge different types\nafter the standard furnished by the distinctively human.\n\n(3) And we take as our standard of the human the \"pattern\" man held in\nview by those who urge us to follow nature.\n\nBut why should this pattern man be assumed to be better or worthier than\na man of a different sort? He who finds in him a greater exhibition of\nactivity may with equal justice address to himself the question: Why is\nactivity, in itself, of value? The one question, like the other, looks\nfor its answer in the dictum of some intuition. What may be said for, and\nwhat against, intuitions, we have already considered. [Footnote: See\nchapter xxiii]\n\n\nIII. SELF-REALIZATION\n\n122. THE SELF-REALIZATION DOCTRINE.--The ethical school which makes the\nrealization of the capacities of the self the aim of moral action has for\na generation, especially in England and America, had the support of many\nacute and scholarly minds. The doctrine, often spoken of as the Neo-\nKantian or the Neo-Hegelian, may be said to be influenced by Kant, so far\nas concerns metaphysical theory, but its ethical character is more\nproperly Hegelian and suggests in many particulars that great German\nphilosopher's \"Philosophy of Right.\"\n\nWe may conveniently take as the protagonist of the school the Oxford\nscholar, Thomas Hill Green, whose \"Prolegomena to Ethics\" has had,\ndirectly and indirectly, a powerful influence upon the minds of the men\nof our generation.\n\nWe find the doctrine of self-realization, as set forth by Green, to be as\nfollows:\n\n(1) In all desire some object is presented to the mind as not yet real,\nand there is a striving to make it real, and thus to satisfy, or\nextinguish, the desire. [Footnote: Prolegomena to Ethics, Sec 131.]\n\n(2) Self-consciousness knits the desires into a system, and thus attains\nto the conception of \"well-being,\" which implies the satisfaction of\ndesire in general, and not merely of this or that desire. [Footnote:\nProlegomena to Ethics, Sec 128.]\n\n(3) \"Good\" is that which satisfies some desire. Any good at which an\nagent aims must be his own good; and \"true good\" is nothing else than\n\"permanent well-being.\" [Footnote: Prolegomena to Ethics, Sec Sec 190, 92,\n203.]\n\n(4) A desire is determined by the nature of the creature desiring; man\ncan attain satisfaction only in the realization of his capacities. His\ntrue good lies only in their complete realization--in his becoming all\nthat it is in him to become. [Footnote: Prolegomena to Ethics, Sec\nSec 171-2, 180.]\n\n(5) But man is a social being, and has an interest in other persons than\nhimself. Hence his complete self-satisfaction implies the satisfaction of\nhis social as well as of his other impulses. That is, his true good\nincludes the good of others. [Footnote: Prolegomena to Ethics, Sec Sec 199-\n205.]\n\n(6) We can only discover what our \"capacities\" are by observing them as\nso far realized, and thus gaining the idea of future progress. The\nultimate end is unknown to us. [Footnote: Prolegomena to Ethics, Sec 172.]\n\n(7) But we see enough to recognize that man's capacities can be realized,\nhis self-satisfaction intelligently sought, only in a social state based\nupon the notion of the common good. The right reveals itself in the\nactual evolution of society. [Footnote: Ibid., Sec Sec 172-76, 205.]\n\n123. THE DOCTRINE AKIN TO THAT OF FOLLOWING NATURE.--The self-\nrealization doctrine has much in common with the doctrine of following\nnature. Thus:\n\n1. It evidently does not recommend the realization of all the capacities\nof the individual as such, but holds in view a \"pattern\" man.\n\n2. This is social man, the true representative of human nature as\nconceived by the ancient Stoic. Green holds before himself \"the ideal of\na society in which everyone shall treat everyone else as his neighbor, in\nwhich to every rational agent the well-being or perfection of every other\nsuch agent shall be included in that perfection for which he lives.\"\n[Footnote: Prolegomena to Ethics, Sec 205.] The same thought was more\npithily expressed by Marcus Aurelius in the aphorism that \"what is good\nfor the hive is good for the bee.\"\n\n3. We find, too, the analogue of that wider appeal to nature which\nsuffused the Stoic doctrine with religious feeling. In the above brief\nrecapitulation of the steps in the self-realization doctrine I have\nomitted this aspect, as I wished to confine myself to the ethical\ndoctrine pure and simple. But Green conceives of the Divine Consciousness\nas already having before it the consummation toward which man strives in\nhis efforts at self-realization; he regards man as working toward the\nattainment of a Divine Purpose. The self-realizationist may prefer,\nsometimes, to use language more abstract. He may say: \"Man's\nconsciousness of himself as a member of society involves a reference to a\ncosmic order.\" [Footnote: MUIRHEAD, The Elements of Ethics, Book I,\nchapter in, Sec 10.] But the difference of language scarcely carries with\nit a substantial difference of thought. [Footnote: \"Though the\nphilosopher as such may shun the term 'God' on account of its\nanthropomorphic associations, and may prefer to speak of the 'conscious\nprinciple,' or of the 'universal self,' yet the latter has in substance\nthe same meaning as the former.\" FITE, _An Introductory Study of\nEthics_, chapter xiii, Sec 4.]\n\n4. As the appeal to human nature, or to nature in a broader sense, left\nthe norm for the guidance of human actions somewhat vague, so the appeal\nto the principle of self-realization seems to leave one without very\ndefinite guidance. There may easily arise disputes touching what\ncapacities are to be realized, and in what degree.\n\n124. IS THE DOCTRINE MORE EGOISTIC?--One difference between the\nprinciples of following nature, striving to attain to perfection, and\naiming at self-realization seems to force itself upon our notice. On the\nsurface, at least, the last doctrine appears to stand out as more\ndistinctly egoistic. The very name has an egoistic flavor; the doctrine\nbases itself upon the satisfaction of desire; nor do its advocates\nhesitate to emphasize that the satisfaction sought is the satisfaction of\nthe agent desiring. In the chapter on Egoism [Footnote: Chapter xxiv.] I\nhave cited some utterances which sound egoistic, and such citations might\nbe multiplied.\n\nNevertheless, from this egoistic root springs a flower which disseminates\nthe perfume of a saintly self-abnegation. How is this seeming miracle\naccomplished?\n\nThe transition is brought about through a chain of reasoning which is\nsubtle and ingenious in the extreme. Must we not admit that in all\npurposive action--the only action with which the moralist need concern\nhimself--there is a striving to realize or satisfy desire in the\nattainment of some object? And if the desires of a mind or self converge\nupon some object, does not its realization imply the satisfaction or\nrealization of the desires of that mind or self? Furthermore, if our\ndesires have as their root our capacities--for we can desire nothing that\nit is not in us to desire--is not the realization of desire the\nrealization of capacity? Does it not follow, hence, that every mind or\nself, in all purposive action, is striving, either blunderingly or with\nfar-sighted intelligence, to attain to self-satisfaction, which means, to\nthe realization of its capacities? Finally, as men are by nature social\ncreatures, how can a man fully realize his capacities without becoming a\ntruly unselfish being? Unselfishness appears to be the inevitable goal of\nthe strivings for self-satisfaction of an unselfish self.\n\n125. WHY AIM TO REALIZE CAPACITIES?--This reasoning appears highly\nsatisfactory in two very different ways. It seems, on the one hand, to\nstop the mouth of the egoist, who insists that his own advantage is his\nonly proper aim. It assures him that he is throughout seeking his own\nadvantage, when he aims at self-realization. On the other hand, it\nassures the man to whom egoism appears repellant and immoral, that self-\nrealization implies that one must love one's neighbor as oneself. The\nimmemorial quarrel between self-love and benevolence appears to be\nadjusted to the mutual satisfaction of both parties.\n\nIs the reasoning unassailable? There are two steps in it which appear to\ndemand a closer scrutiny. One is the transition from desire to capacity;\nthe other, the assumption that he who follows an unselfish impulse may\nproperly be said to aim at self-satisfaction, and to exercise no self-\ndenial.\n\nAs to the first. Our desires may have their roots in our capacities, but\ndesires and capacities are, nevertheless, not the same thing.\n\nMen do actually strive to realize their desires--a desire is nothing else\nthan such a striving for realization or satisfaction. But it cannot be\nsaid that men generally strive to realize their capacities, except to the\nlimited degree in which their capacities may happen to be expressed in\nactual desires. Capacities may lie dormant, and the man in whom they lie\ndormant need not on that account feel dissatisfied, as does the man whose\ndesires are not realized. Self-realization, as understood by the school\nof thinkers which advocates it, implies much more than the satisfaction\nof desire. It implies the multiplication of desires and their\nsatisfaction. On what ground shall we persuade the contented egoist, who\nhas but a handful of commonplace desires and finds it possible to satisfy\nmost of them, that it is better to call into being a multitude of wants\nmany of which will probably remain unrealized? He may point out that the\ndivine discontent is apt to leave the idealist and the reformer as lean\nas Cassius. All of which does not prove that the self-realizationist is\nnot right in exhorting men to develop their capacities in the direction\nof the pattern which he holds in view; but it does seem to prove that the\npath to self-realization, in this sense, is not necessarily the path to\nself-satisfaction. \"The good\" has come to mean more than that which\nsatisfies desire. How shall we persuade men that it is their duty to make\nthis good their end?\n\n126. THE PROBLEM OF SELF-SACRIFICE.--As for the second point. He who\nmakes his moral aim self-satisfaction can scarcely be expected to\nadvocate self-sacrifice.\n\nAccordingly, we find among self-realizationists, a tendency to repudiate\naltogether what may properly be called self-denial. \"Anything conceived\nas good in such a way that the agent acts for the sake of it,\" said\nGreen, [Footnote: Prolegomena, Sec 92.] \"must be conceived as his own\ngood.\" \"A moment's consideration will show,\" writes Professor Fite, in\nhis clear and attractive book, [Footnote: An Introductory Study of\nEthics, chapter viii, Sec 5.] \"that, for self-sacrifice in any absolute\nsense, no ground of obligation is conceivable. Unless I am in some way\ninterested in the object [Footnote: I.e., unless I desire the object.]\nwhose attainment is set before me as a duty, it seems to be\npsychologically impossible that I should ever strive for it.\"\n\nNow we do seem compelled to concede that, unless a man desires an end, he\ncannot will that end. Anything that is selected as an end, and striven\nfor, must be desired. And the attainment of the end implies, of course,\nthe satisfaction of that particular desire. But, admitting all this, is\nnot the question left open whether some desires may not be sacrificed to\nothers; and whether, indeed, a whole extensive system of desires may not,\non occasion, be sacrificed to a single desire? In this case, may not the\ntransaction properly be called self-sacrifice? Suppose the desire to\nserve one's neighbor, if satisfied, prevents the realization of a\nmultitude of other desires of the same agent. Is it certain that its\nsatisfaction does not imply self-denial?\n\n127. SELF-SATISFACTION AND SELF-SACRIFICE.--The argument to prove that it\nis not really self-sacrifice may follow divers paths.\n\nThus, it may be argued that, since the proper end of a rational being is\nhis own permanent good, the sacrifice of such goods as do not conduce to\nthis end is not self-sacrifice. Sensual pleasures, the satisfaction of\nvanity or ambition, the accomplishment of a vengeful purpose, an\nexcessive preoccupation with one's own interests as contrasted with those\nof others--such things as these, it is claimed, do not permanently\nsatisfy. That the so-called man of pleasure is a man upon whom pleasures\npall, and that he who seeks too earnestly to save his own life is apt to\nlose it, has been reiterated by a long line of professional and lay\nmoralists from Buddha to Tolstoi. The refuge from the discontent arising\nout of the attempt to quench one's thirst by sipping at transient\ndelights has always been found in altruism under some guise. The self-\nrealizationists may claim that certain things are given up in order that\nother things more permanently satisfying to the self may be attained, and\nmay deny that this is any renunciation of self-satisfaction. [Footnote:\nGREEN, op. cit., Sec 176.]\n\nAgain. It may be argued that men's interests do not conflict as widely as\nis commonly supposed. To be sure, two men may have to struggle with each\nother for the pleasure of eating a given apple, of making a pecuniary\nprofit, of obtaining a coveted post, of being the first authority in a\ngiven science or art, of securing the affections of a particular woman.\nHere one man's loss seems to be another man's gain. But two men may enjoy\nseeing a child eat an apple, or a deserving man profit, or their common\ncandidate win the election, or their favorite artist honored, or their\nbeloved nephew accepted by the lady of his choice. If one desires certain\nthings, and certain things only, there seems no reason why one's desires\nshould not be in harmony with those of others.\n\nThe things best worth having, it is claimed, do not admit of being\ncompeted for. [Footnote: GREEN, _Prolegomena to Ethics_, Sec Sec 244-\n245.] If my aim is unselfish devotion to humanity, how can I lose if my\nneighbor attains in the same running? Do virtuous men, in so far as they\nare virtuous, stand in each other's light? Are there not as many prizes\nas there are competitors? As long as I remain in this field I may seek\nself-satisfaction without scruple. I satisfy another's desire in\nsatisfying my own. By benevolence I lose nothing.\n\nThe list of things which one may forego without self-sacrifice has been\nmade a long one. Even the realization of capacities highly valued by\ncultivated men has been brought into it:\n\n\"No conflict,\" writes Professor Seth, [Footnote: _A Study of Ethical\nPrinciples_, Part II, chapter ii, Sec 4, Edinburgh, 1911, p. 286.] \"is\npossible between the ends of the individual and those of society. The\nindividual may be called upon to sacrifice, for example, his opportunity\nof esthetic or intellectual culture; but in that very sacrifice lies his\nopportunity of moral culture, of true self-realization.\"\n\n128. CAN MORAL SELF-SACRIFICE BE A DUTY?--To this position one is tempted\nto demur until two questions have found a satisfactory answer:\n\n1. Is it true that there is no sacrifice of self-realization or self-\nsatisfaction, properly so called, where all other desires and impulses\nare sacrificed to the one desire to do right?\n\n2. Is it not conceivable, at least, that obedience to an unselfish\nimpulse may result even in the sacrifice of the opportunities of moral\nculture in general? Can it, then, be called self-realization?\n\nTouching the first question it may plausibly be maintained that the\ndesires of the self are many and various, and that the satisfaction of an\naltruistic impulse may imply the sacrifice of so many of them that the\nself may very doubtfully be said to attain to permanent satisfaction when\nthe impulse is realized. Aristotle's hero, who, in dying for his country,\nchooses the more \"honorable\" for himself, [Footnote: _Ethics_, Book\nIX, chapter viii, Sec 12.] can hardly be said in that one act to have\naccomplished a state of permanent satisfaction or well-being for the self\nwhose being was, in that act, brought to an abrupt termination. Certain\nStoics seem to have taught that virtue is its own adequate reward and\nthat nothing else matters; but this has not been the verdict of moralists\ngenerally. Paley, who writes like an unblushing egoist, [Footnote: See Sec\n96.] we may pass over; but even Kant, a thinker of a very different\ncomplexion, appears to regard the mere doing of a right act as not a\nsufficient reward for the doer. He looks for the act to be crowned with\nhappiness in a life to come, thus saving it from being mere self-\nsacrifice.\n\nThe second question one approaches with some hesitation. \"No moralist,\"\nwrites Professor Sidgwick, [Footnote: _The Methods of Ethics_,\nIntroduction.] \"has ever directed an individual to promote the virtue of\nothers except in so far as this promotion is compatible with, or rather\ninvolved in, the complete realization of virtue in himself.\" It appears\nrash to admit to be a duty that which as high an authority as Sidgwick\nmaintains no moralist has ever ventured to advise. Still, it is\npermissible to adduce an illustration taken from actual life, and to ask\nthe reader to form his opinion independently.\n\nA girl, anxious to provide her younger sister with a better lot, enters a\nfactory and gives up her life to labor of a monotonous and mind-\ndestroying character, amid sordid and more or less degrading\nsurroundings. The act is a heroic one, but is it clear that it conduces\nto the self-realization, not of the sister, but of the agent herself? The\ninfluence of surroundings counts for much. High impulses may, under such\npressure, come to be repressed.\n\n\"Capacity for the nobler feelings,\" writes Mill, [Footnote:\n_Utilitarianism_, chapter iii] \"is in most natures a very tender\nplant, easily killed, not only by hostile influences, but by mere want of\nsustenance; and in the majority of young persons it speedily dies away if\nthe occupations to which their position in life has devoted them, and the\nsociety into which it has thrown them, are not favorable to keeping that\nhigher capacity in exercise. Men lose their high aspirations as they lose\ntheir intellectual tastes, because they have not time or opportunity for\nindulging them; and they addict themselves to inferior pleasures, not\nbecause they deliberately prefer them, but because they are either the\nonly ones to which they have access, or the only ones they are any longer\ncapable of enjoying.\"\n\nIn other words, one may put oneself into a situation in which self-\nrealization appears to be made a most difficult and problematic goal. Nor\ndoes it seem inconceivable that one should do this for the sake of\nanother's good. Hence, even if we restrict the meaning of the word \"self-\nsacrifice\" to the sacrifice of the \"real\" or moral self, the\nimpossibility of self-sacrifice scarcely appears to have been proved; the\nimpossibility of a conflict between the ends of the individual and of\nsociety does not appear to be indubitably established.\n\n129. SELF-SACRIFICE AND THE IDENTITY OF SELVES.--Can it be maintained\nupon any other grounds than those adduced above? One line of argument\nremains open to us. We may maintain that, while two bodies are two\nbecause they occupy two portions of space, two minds, as not in space,\ncannot thus be held apart, and we may conclude that \"the many individuals\ncomposing the race are not really many, but one.\" [Footnote: Fite, _An\nIntroductory Study of Ethics_, chapter xii.] I suppose that he who can\ntake this position will find it natural to argue that any act which\nserves the interests of any self must be regarded as serving the\ninterests of every self, and thus cannot be considered as sacrificing the\ninterests of any self.\n\nTo these transcendental heights, however, comparatively few will be able\nto climb. To men generally it will still appear that Peter's love to Paul\nis not identical with Peter's love to Peter; and that Peter may act in\nsuch a way that, on the whole, he loses, while Paul gains. That the\ninterests of Peter and Paul, as developed social beings and members of a\ncivilized community, are less likely to be in conflict than those of\ntheir primitive cave-dwelling forerunners may be freely conceded. But\nfrom such relative harmony to a complete identity of interests seems a\nfar cry.\n\n130. QUESTIONS WHICH SEEM TO BE LEFT OPEN.--Evidently, the self-\nrealization doctrine is a great advance upon the doctrine of following\nnature. The self-realizationist realizes that man's nature is in the\nmaking, and he is not blind to the difficulty of the task of determining\njust what the real demands of human nature are.\n\nThis leads to his laying much stress upon the gradual development of\nsystems of rights and duties as they emerge under the actual conditions\nto which human societies are subjected in the course of their evolution.\nHe reads history with comprehending eyes, and reverences the human reason\nas crystallized in social institutions. Hence, the divergence of the\nmoral standards which obtain in different ages and among different\npeoples does not seem to him a baffling mystery. He can find a relative\njustification for each, and yet hold to an ideal in the light of which\neach must be judged.\n\nIt may be questioned, however, whether the edifice which he erects can be\nbased wholly upon the appeal to the self which ostensibly furnishes the\ngroundwork of the doctrine. We may ask whether such an appeal can:\n\n(1) Prescribe to the individual in what measure his various capacities\nshould be realized.\n\n(2) Show that it is reasonable to awaken dormant capacities, and thus\nmultiply desires.\n\n(3) Justify social acts which certainly appear to be self-sacrificing,\nand which the moral judgments of men generally do not hesitate to\napprove.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII\n\nTHE ETHICS OF EVOLUTION\n\n\n131. THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE TITLE.--The title, \"The Ethics of\nEvolution,\" seems to assume that the evolutionist, frankly accepting\nhimself as such, must be prepared to join some school of the moralists\ndifferent from other schools, and basing itself upon evolutionary\ndoctrine.\n\nThat the ethical views of individuals and of communities of men may\nundergo a process of evolution or development is palpable. The ethical\nnotions of the child are not those of the man, nor are the moral ideas of\nprimitive races identical with those of races more advanced\nintellectually and morally.\n\nBut it is one thing to maintain that morals may be in evolution in\nindividuals and in communities, and quite another to hold that the\nacceptance of the doctrine of evolution, broadly taken, forces upon one\nsome new norm by which human actions may be judged. It was possible for\nas ardent an evolutionist as Huxley to hold that evolution and ethics are\nnot merely independent, but are actually at war with one another, the\ncompetitive struggle for existence characteristic of the one giving place\nin the other to a new principle in which the rights of the weak and the\nhelpless attain express recognition. [Footnote: HUXLEY, _Evolution and\nEthics_, New York, 1894. See, especially, the _Prolegomena_.] And\nSidgwick, that clearest of thinkers, maintains [Footnote: _The Methods\nof Ethics_, Book I, chapter vi, Sec 2.] that we have no reason to assume\nthat it is our duty as moral beings simply to accelerate the pace in the\ndirection already marked out by evolution.\n\nIt should be remembered that the word evolution may be used equivocally.\nIt is not evident that all evolution is in the direction of a life, brute\nor human, that we commonly recognize as higher. There is retrogression,\nas well as progress, where such retrogression is favored by environment.\nWe may call this, if we please, _devolution_. Were the conditions of\nhis life very unfavorable, man could not live as he now lives; and,\nindeed, were they sufficiently unfavorable--for example, if the earth\ncooled off to a certain point--he could not live at all, but would have\nto give place to a lowlier creature better fitted to the conditions. Must\nthe man who foresees this end approaching strive to hasten its arrival,\nor should he oppose it? In a decadent society, to come nearer to the\nproblems which concern us in ethics, must a man strive to realize the\nsocial will expressed in progressive decadence? Should he hasten the\ndecline of the community?\n\nThat those who study man as a moral being, like those who study man in\nany of his other aspects, will be more or less influenced in their\noutlook by the broadening of the horizon which results from a study of\nwhat the students of the evolutionary process have to tell us, may be\nconceded. But when we admit this, we do not necessarily have to look for\na new norm by which to judge conduct. We seem, rather, forced to ask\nourselves how this broadening of the horizon affects the norms which have\nheretofore appealed to men as reasonable. To be sure, any evolutionist\nhas, in the capacity of a moralist, the right to suggest a new norm. But,\nin that case, he must, like any other moralist, convince us that it is a\nreasonable one.\n\n132. EVOLUTION AND THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS.--Those who have\nsuggested the norms discussed above, no one would think of as greatly\ninfluenced in their ethical teaching by the doctrine of evolution. Locke,\nPrice, Butler and Sidgwick; Aristippus and Epicurus; Paley and Hobbes;\nBentham and Mill; Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius; Janet, Green, and the\nrest, no one would be inclined to class simply as evolutionary moralists.\nSome of them never thought of evolution at all. How would it affect their\nstandards of right and wrong were evolution expressly taken into account?\nWould the standards have to be abandoned? Or would the men, as broader\nmen, merely have to revise some of their moral judgments?\n\n(1) It might be supposed that the acceptance of evolutionary doctrine\nwould bring into being a grave problem for the intuitionist, at least. If\nthe body and mind of man are products of evolution, must we not admit as\nmuch of man's moral intuitions? Then why not admit that these may be\nreplaced some day by other moral intuitions to be evolved in an unknown\nfuture?\n\nHe who reasons thus should bear in mind that Sidgwick, who by no means\nrepudiated the doctrine of evolution, was an intuitionist, and placed his\nultimate moral intuitions on a par with such mathematical intuitions as\nthat two and two make four. If all intuitions are a product of evolution,\nSidgwick might claim that the moral intuitions he accepts fare no worse\nthan those elementary mathematical truths which we accept without\nquestion and without reflection. And he might maintain that an appeal to\nevolution need cast no greater doubt upon ultimate moral truth than upon\nmathematical. If intuitionism in all its forms is to be rejected, it\nseems as though it must be done upon some other ground than an appeal to\nevolution.\n\n(2) As to the egoist. It is not easy to see how the appeal to evolution\nneed disconcert him. Should he be so foolish as to maintain that egoism\nis always, in fact, necessary and unavoidable on the part of every living\ncreature, he might easily be refuted by a reference to the actual life of\nthe brutes, where altruism can be shown to play no insignificant role.\nBut if he simply maintains that the only _reasonable_ principle for\na man to adopt is egoism, he may continue to do so. He makes the self and\nits satisfactions his end. How can it concern him to learn how the self\ncame to be what it is, or what it will be in the distant future? He\npanders to the present self; he may assume that it will be reasonable to\npander at the appropriate time to the self that is to be, whatever its\nnature.\n\n(3) The utilitarian remains such whether he makes the greatest good of\nthe greatest number to consist in pleasure or in some other end, such as\nself-preservation. Some utilitarians, who have been inclined to emphasize\nthe good of man, rather than to extend even to the brutes the goods to be\ndistributed, may be influenced to extend the sphere of duties, if they\nwill listen to the evolutionist, who cannot well leave out of view\nhumbler creatures. [Footnote: \"Thus we shall not go wrong in attributing\nto the higher animals in their simple social life, not only the\nelementary feelings, the loves and hates, sympathies and jealousies which\nunderlie all forms of society, but also in a rudimentary stage the\nintelligence which enables those feelings to direct the operations of the\nanimal so as best to gratify them.\" HOBHOUSE, _Ethics in Evolution_,\nchapter i, Sec 4.]\n\nHe may broaden his sympathies. But this need not compel him to abandon\nhis fundamental doctrine.\n\n(4) A very similar conclusion may be drawn, when we consider the\ninfluence of an acceptance of the doctrine of evolution upon those who\nwould turn to man's nature, to perfection, or to self-realization, as\nfurnishing the norm of human conduct.\n\nA Marcus Aurelius could, with little reference to evolution, accept man's\nnature, or Nature in the wider sense, as marking out for man the round of\nhis duties. A modern Darwinian might fall back upon much the same\nstandard, while clearly conscious of the fact that man's nature is not\nsomething unchangeable, and while inclined to view Nature in general with\ndifferent eyes from those of the Roman Stoic. No sensible evolutionist\nwould maintain that a creature of a given species should act in defiance\nof all the instincts of creatures of that type, merely on the ground that\nspecies may be involved in a process of progressive development.\n\nNor need the perfectionist abandon his perfectionism in view of any such\nconsideration. He who measures perfection by the degree of activity\nexercised in action, may admit that the coming man will be more perfect\nthan it is possible for any man to be now; but that need not prevent him\nfrom holding that it is man's present duty to aim at the only perfection\npossible to him, he being what he is. Similar reasoning will apply to any\nother conception of perfection likely to be adopted, consciously or\nunconsciously, by any adherent of the school in question.\n\nAs for the self-realizationist, a very little reflection seems sufficient\nto reveal that the maxim that it is man's duty to become all that it is\nin him to become is in no wise refuted by the claim that man may, in the\nindefinitely distant future, become much more than many people have\nsupposed or now suppose.\n\n(5) There remains the doctrine of the Rational Social Will as furnishing\nthe norm of conduct. I have tried to show that this doctrine must rest\nupon broad views of man and of man's environment. It is the very essence\nof the rational will to take broad views, to consider the past, the\npresent, and the future. Surely the adherent of this school may let the\nevolutionist work in peace, may thank him for any helpful suggestions he\nhas to offer, and may develop his own doctrine with little cause for\nuneasiness at the thought that information given him may refute his\nfundamental principle.\n\nHowever, it is not out of place for him to point out, if revolutionary\nmeasures of any sort are suggested by this or that evolutionist, that\nethics is a discipline which is concerned with what men have to do, here\nand now. It must take into consideration what is advisable and feasible.\nUtopian schemes which break violently with the actual order of things and\nthe normal development of human societies may be suggested by\nevolutionists, as they have been suggested by men who were not\nevolutionists at all. They are not to be taken much more seriously in the\none case than in the other.\n\n133. THE ETHICS OF INDIVIDUAL EVOLUTIONISTS.--Such considerations seem to\nmake it evident that the acceptance of the doctrine of evolution should\nhave no other influence upon us as moralists than that of making us take\nbroad views of man and of his environment. It still remains to find a\nnorm of conduct, and evolutionists, like other men, may develop ethical\nsystems which are not identical. It is worth while here to touch very\nbriefly upon the suggestions of one or two individual evolutionists.\nThose who speak of the ethics of evolution are very apt to have such in\nmind.\n\nThus, Darwin, whose study of the lower animals led him to believe that\nthe social instincts have been developed for the general good rather than\nfor the general happiness of the species, defines the \"good\" as \"the\nrearing of the greatest number of individuals in full vigor and health,\nwith all their faculties perfect, under the conditions to which they have\nbeen subjected.\" The \"greatest happiness principle\" he regards as an\nimportant secondary guide to conduct, while making social instinct and\nsympathy primary guides. [Footnote: _The Descent of Man_, chapter\niv, concluding remarks. ]\n\nSpencer maintains that the evolution of conduct becomes the highest\npossible when the conduct \"simultaneously achieves the greatest totality\nof life in self, in offspring, and in fellow-men.\" \"The conduct called\ngood,\" he writes, \"rises to the conduct conceived as best, when it\nfulfills all three classes of ends at the same time.\" But life he does\nnot regard as necessarily a good. He judges it to be good or bad\n\"according as it has or has not a surplus of agreeable feeling.\" Hence,\n\"conduct is good or bad according as its total effects are pleasurable or\npainful.\" [Footnote: _The Data of Ethics,_ chapter in, Sec Sec 8 and 10.\n]\n\nTo be sure, Spencer criticises the utilitarians, and thinks little of the\nBenthamic calculus of pleasures. He believes that we should substitute\nfor it something more scientific, a study of the processes of life. In\nhis earlier writings he appears to be largely in accord with the\nintuitionists in judging of conduct, regarding intuitions as having their\norigin in the experiences of the race. Nor does he ever seem inclined to\nbreak with intuitionism completely. But, as we have seen above (Sec 108),\nthere appears to be nothing to prevent a utilitarian from being an\nintuitionist of some sort, as well.\n\nStephen, in his clear and beautifully written work on morals, also\naccepts the general happiness as the ultimate end of reasonable conduct;\nand he, too, criticizes the current utilitarianism. He writes: \"This, as\nit seems to me, represents the real difference between the utilitarian\nand the evolutionist criterion. The one lays down as a criterion the\nhappiness, the other the health of society.\" [Footnote: _The Science of\nEthics_, London, 1882, chapter ix, 12.] By which, of course, he does\nnot mean merely physical health, but such a condition of vigor and\nefficiency as carries with it a promise of continued existence and well-\nbeing in the future.\n\nIt is not necessary to multiply instances. It can readily be seen that\nall three of the writers cited are utilitarians, and the last two are\nwhat have been characterized as hedonistic utilitarians. That they\nsuggest this or that means of best attaining to the desired goal does not\nput them outside of a school which embraces men of many shades of\nopinion.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII\n\nPESSIMISM\n\n\n134. THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE PESSIMIST.--With philosophy in general this\nvolume has little to do; but as pessimism is not the doctrine of normal\nmen generally, but is apt to be identified in our minds with the\nteachings of certain of its leading exponents, it may be well to give, in\nbriefest outline, the type of reasonings upon which the pessimist may\ntake his stand.\n\nSchopenhauer held that the one World-Will, which manifests itself in all\nnature, inorganic and organic, and is identical with the will of which\neach man is conscious in himself, is a \"will to live.\" When the World-\nWill becomes conscious, as it does in man, the will to live is\nconsciously asserted. But the will to live is essentially blind and\nunreasoning, or it would not do anything so stupid as to will life of any\nsort. He writes:\n\n\"Only a blind will, no seeing will, could place itself in the position in\nwhich we behold ourselves. A seeing will would rather have soon made the\ncalculation that the business did not cover the cost; for such a mighty\neffort and struggle, with the straining of all the powers, under constant\ncare, anxiety and want, and with the inevitable destruction of every\nindividual life, finds no compensation in the ephemeral existence itself,\nwhich is so obtained, and which passes into nothing in our hands.\"\n[Footnote: _The World as Will and Idea_, translated by HALDANE and\nKEMP, London, 1896. _On the Vanity and Suffering of Life_. Volume\nIII, p. 390.]\n\nThe basis of all will, says Schopenhauer, is need, deficiency, and,\nhence, pain. He dwells at length upon the misery of life, and the\ndesirability of a release from life. The refuge of suicide at once\nsuggests itself, but is rejected by Schopenhauer on the ground that the\ndestruction of the individual cannot prevent the One Will from\nmanifesting itself in other individuals. Curiously enough he appears to\napprove of suicide by starvation, as indicating a renunciation of the\nwill to live. But his general recommendation is asceticism, renunciation\nof the striving for pleasure, the voluntary acceptance of pain. Through\nthis the Will is to be taught to apprehend its own nature, and, thus, to\ndeny itself. How a general asceticism on our part will rob the one\nuniversal Will, revealed in the mineral, vegetable and animal worlds, of\nits nature, and still its strivings, the great pessimist does not\nindicate.\n\nAt this point, von Hartmann, who may fairly be called Schopenhauer's\npupil, takes up the tale. He suggests that it is conceivable that a\nuniversal negation of the will may be obtained, if the preponderating\npart of the actual World-Will should come to be contained in the\nconscious minds that resolve to will no more. This he thinks may\nneutralize the whole, and put an end to existence, which is unavoidably\nan evil, and implies a preponderance of pain. [Footnote: _Philosophy of\nthe Unconscious_, \"Metaphysic of the Unconscious,\" chapter xiv.]\n\n135. COMMENT ON THE ETHICS OF PESSIMISM.--On the metaphysics of the\npessimists I shall make no comment save that there appears to be here\nsufficient vagueness to satisfy the most poetical of minds. But the\nfollowing points in the ethics of pessimism should be noted:\n\n(1) Pleasure and pain are made the measure of the desirability or\nundesirability of existence.\n\n(2) It is assumed that pleasure and pain are measurable; and that they\nmay be quantitatively balanced against one another in such a way that\nthis or that mixture of them may be declared by an enlightened man to be,\non the whole, desirable or the reverse.\n\n(3) It is claimed that the balance must necessarily incline to the side\nof pain, and hence, that life is not worth living.\n\n(4) It follows from all this that it is our duty to aim, not necessarily\ndirectly, but in some manner, at least, at the destruction of life\neverywhere.\n\n(5) I beg the reader to observe that the above doctrine rests upon\nassumptions which seem to be made without due consideration. Thus:\n\n(a) It is by no means to be assumed without question that pleasure and\npain alone are the measure of the desirable. They are not the only things\nactually desired; and, if we assert that they alone are desirable, we\nfall back upon a dubious intuition.\n\n(6) The quantitative relations of pleasures and pains are legitimate\nsubjects of dispute, as we have seen in earlier chapters in this volume.\nWhen is one pleasure twice as great as another? How can we know that\nthree pleasures counterbalance a pain? Is it by the mere fact that we\n_will_ as we do, in a given instance? Then how prove that we will as\nwe do, because of the equivalence of the pleasure to the pain?\n\n(c) Who shall decide for us whether life is--not desired, it is\nadmittedly that, as a rule,--but, also, _desirable_?\n\nMay the man who denies it rest his assertion upon such general\nconsiderations as that satisfaction presupposes desire, and that desire\nimplies a lack, and, hence, pain? The famous author of \"Utopia\" pointed\nout long ago that the pains of hunger begin before the pleasure of\neating, and only die when it does. Shall we, then, regard a hearty\nappetite as a curse, to be mitigated but not wholly neutralized by a\nseries of good dinners?\n\nTo be sure, the pessimists do not depend wholly upon such general\narguments, but point out in great detail that there is much suffering in\nthe world, and that the fulfillment of desire, when it is attained, often\nresults in disillusionment. But the fact remains that life, such as it\nis, is desired by men and other creatures generally; desired not as an\nexception, and under a misapprehension, but, as a rule, even by the\nenlightened and the far-seeing.\n\nIs not the desirable what is desired by the rational will? We have seen\nthat the rational social will does not aim at the suppression of desires\ngenerally, but only at the suppression of such desires as interfere with\nbroader satisfactions. Viewed from this stand-point, the pessimist's\n\"denial of the will to live\" appears as an expression of the accidental\nor irrational will. It is not an expression of the nature of man, but of\nthe nature of the pessimist.\n\n(6) It is, perhaps, worth while to point out that there is nothing to\nprevent a given pessimist from being an intuitionist, an egoist, a\nutilitarian (of a sort), or an adherent of one of the other schools above\ndiscussed. He may assume intuitively that life is undesirable; in view of\nits undesirability he may act, either taking himself alone into\nconsideration, or including his neighbor; he may invoke the doctrine of\nevolution; he may even, if he chooses, call it self-realization to\nannihilate himself, for he may argue that a will that comes to clear\nconsciousness must see that it must be its own undoing. It is hardly\nnecessary to point out, however, that the pessimist, as such, should not\nbe in any wise confounded with the moralists discussed in the five\nchapters preceding.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIX\n\nKANT, HEGEL AND NIETZSCHE\n\n\n136. KANT.---It is impossible, in any brief compass, to treat of the many\nindividual moralists, some of them men of genius and well worthy of our\nstudy, who offer us ethical systems characterized by differences of more\nor less importance. When we refer a man to this or that school and do no\nmore, we say comparatively little about him, as has become evident in the\npreceding chapters. As we have seen, it has been necessary to class\ntogether those who differ rather widely in many of their opinions. Here,\nI shall devote a few pages to three men only, partly because of their\nprominence, and partly because it is instructive to call attention to the\ncontrast between them in their fundamental positions. I shall begin with\nKant.\n\nKant held that the human reason issues \"categorial imperatives,\" that is\nto say, unconditional commands to act in certain ways. The motive for\nmoral action must not be the desire for pleasure, but solely the desire\nto do right.\n\nHe makes his fundamental rule abstract and formal: \"So act that you could\nwish your maxim to be universal law.\" As no man could wish to be himself\nneglected when in distress, this law compels him to be benevolent, and a\nnew form of the fundamental rule is developed: \"Treat humanity, in\nyourself or any other, as an end always, and never as a means.\" [Footnote:\n_Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysic of Morals_, Sec 2.]\n\nNow Kant, although he maintains that it is not a man's duty to seek his\nown happiness--a thing which natural inclination would prompt him to do--\nby no means overlooks happiness altogether. He thinks that virtue and\nhappiness together constitute the whole and perfect good desired by\nrational beings. The attainment of this good must be the supreme end of a\nwill morally determined. [Footnote: _Dialectic of the Pure Practical\nReason_, chapter ii.] We are morally bound to strive to be virtuous\nourselves and to make others happy.\n\nStill, each man's happiness means much to him; and Kant, convinced that\nvirtue _ought_ to be rewarded with happiness, holds that our world\nis a moral world, where God will reward the virtuous. If we do not assume\nsuch a world, he claims, moral laws are reduced to idle dreams.\n[Footnote: Ibid.]\n\nSuch utterances as the last may well lead the utilitarian to question\nwhether Kant was quite whole-hearted in his doctrine of the unconditional\ncommands of the practical reason of man. They appear to be not\nindependent of all consideration of human happiness.\n\nI shall not ask whether Kant was consistent. Great men, like lesser men,\nseldom are. But, in order that the contrast between his doctrine and\nthose of the two writers whom I shall next discuss may be brought out\nclearly, I shall ask that the following points be kept well in mind:\n\n(1) Kant was an out-and-out intuitionist. He goes directly to the\npractical reason of man for an enunciation of the moral law.\n\n(2) Moral rules of lesser generality, such as those touching benevolence,\njustice and veracity, he traces to the practical reason, making them\nindependent of all considerations of expediency. Thus he defends the body\nof moral truth accepted by so many of his fellow-moralists.\n\n(3) His \"practical reason\" speaks directly to the individual. Kant looked\nwithin, not without. We may call him an ethical individualist. Socrates,\nwhen on trial for his life, listened for the voice of the divinity within\nhim. He needed no other.\n\n137. HEGEL.--In strongest contrast to the individualism of Kant stands\nthe doctrine of Hegel. To the latter, duty consists in the realization of\nthe free reasonable will--but this will is identical in all individuals,\n[Footnote: _The Philosophy of Right_, Sec 209] and its realization\nreveals itself in the customs, laws and institutions of the state. From\nthis point of view the individual is an accidental thing; the ethical\norder revealed in society is permanent, and has absolute authority. It is\ntrue, however, that it is not something foreign to the individual; he is\nconscious of it as his own being. In duty he finds his liberation.\n[Footnote: _Ibid_., Sec Sec 145-149]\n\nBut what is a man's duty? \"What a man ought to do,\" says Hegel,\n[Footnote: _Ibid_., Sec 150] \"what duties he should fulfill in order\nto be virtuous, is in an ethical community easy to say--the man has only\nto do what is presented, expressed and recognized in the established\nrelations in which he finds himself.\"\n\nIn other words, he ought to do just what his community prescribes! This\nseems, taken quite literally, a startling doctrine.\n\nIt would be a wrong to Hegel to take him quite literally, for he\nelsewhere [Footnote: _Ibid_., Introduction.] makes it plain that he\nby no means approves of all the laws and customs that have obtained in\nvarious societies. Still, he exalts the law of the state and regards any\nopposition to it on the authority of private conviction as \"stupendous\npresumption.\" [Footnote: Op. _cit_., Sec 138.] This is a serious\nrebuke to the reformer. The individual must, according to Hegel, look for\nthe moral law outside of himself--of himself as an individual, at least.\nHe must find it in the State.\n\n138. NIETZSCHE.--Again a startling contrast: after Hegel, Nietzsche--the\nvoice of one crying in the wilderness, exquisitely, passionately, but\nscarcely with articulate scientific utterance. A prophet of revolt and\nemancipation; a cave-dweller, who would flee organized society and the\nrefinements of civilization; the rabid individualist, to whom the\ncommunity is the \"herd,\" and common notions of right and wrong are\nabsurdities to be visited with scorn and denunciation. He makes a strong\nappeal to young men, even after the years during which the carrying of\none's own latch-key is a source of elation. He appeals also to those\nperennially young persons who never attain to the stature which befits\nthose who are to take a responsible share in the organized efforts of\ncommunities of men.\n\nWith Nietzsche the man, his suffering life, and the melancholy eclipse of\nhis brilliant intellect, ethics as science is little concerned. In\nNietzsche the marvellous literary artist it can have no interest. These\nthings are the affair of literature and biography.\n\nHere we are concerned only with his contribution to ethics. Just what\nthat has been it is more difficult to determine than would be the case in\na writer more systematic and scientific. But he makes it very clear that\nhe repudiates the morals which have been accepted heretofore by moralists\nand communities of men generally.\n\nHe confesses himself an \"immoralist.\" He despises man as he is, and hails\nthe \"Superman,\" a creature inspired by the \"will to have power\" and free\nfrom all moral prejudices, including that of sympathy with the weak and\nthe helpless.\n\n\"Full is the world of the superfluous,\" he sings in his famous dithyramb,\n[Footnote: _Thus Spake Zarathustra, I, xi_. It is a pity to read\nNIETZSCHE in any translation. His diction is exquisite. But those who can\nonly read him in English may be referred to the translations of his works\nedited by LEVY. New York, 1911.] \"marred is life by the many-too-\nmany.\"... \"Many too many are born; for the superfluous ones was the State\ndevised.\"...\"There, where the State ceaseth--there only commenceth the\nman who is not superfluous.\"\n\nMan, says Nietzsche, should regard himself as a \"bridge\" over which he\ncan pass to something higher. [Footnote: _Ibid._, Prologue, and I,\nIV, XI, _et passim_.] Upon the fact that the Superman may have the\nsame reason for regarding himself as a \"bridge\" as the most commonplace\nof mortals, and may begin anew with loathing and self-contempt, he does\nnot dwell. Yet, as long as progress is possible, man may always be\nregarded as a \"bridge.\" The reader of Nietzsche is tempted to believe\nthat hatred and contempt must always be the predominant emotions in the\nmind of the \"superior\" man. Darwin, who knew much more about man and\nnature than did our passionate poet, was still able to regard man as \"the\ncrown and glory of the universe.\" Not so, Nietzsche.\n\nThose who have read little in ethics are inclined to attribute to\nNietzsche a greater measure of originality than he can reasonably claim.\nMore than two milleniums before him, Plato conceived an ideal Republic in\nwhich moral laws, as commonly accepted, were to be set aside. Marriage\nwas to be done away with; births were to be scientifically regulated;\nchildren were to be taken from their mothers; sickly infants were to be\ndestroyed. In Sparta the committee of the elders did not permit the\npromptings of sympathy and the cries of wounded maternal love to\ninfluence the decision touching the life or death of the new-born.\n\nHere was an attempt at bridge-building, but it was conceived as a\nscientific matter, to be taken in hand by the State, and for the good of\nthe State. But Nietzsche would destroy the State. His Superman appears as\nindividualistic as a \"rogue\" elephant, a few passages to the contrary\nnotwithstanding. Are we to regard him as a mere lawless egoist, or as\nsomething more? We are left in the dark. [Footnote: See the volume,\n_Beyond Good and Evil,_ \"What is Noble?\" Sec 265.] But we note that\nNietzsche disagrees with most moralists, in that he refuses to regard\nCaesar Borgia as a morbid growth. [Footnote: _Ibid., The Natural\nHistory of Morals,_ Sec 197. DOSTOIEVSKY'S genius has portrayed for us\nan admirable Superman in the person of the Russian convict Orloff. See\nhis _House of the Dead_, chapter v.]\n\nThe Superman has always been with us, in somewhat varying types. From\nAlexander the Great to Napoleon, and before and after, he adorns the\npages of history. Attila, among others, may enter his claim to\nconsideration. It remains for the serious student of ethics to estimate\nscientifically his value as an ethical ideal, and to judge how far this\ntype of character may profitably be taken as a pattern. Nietzsche stands\nat the farthest possible remove from Hegel. Does he, as an individualist,\nstand within hail of Kant? It scarcely seems so. When we examine Kant's\n\"practical reason,\" in other words, the moral law as it revealed itself\nto Kant, we find that it had taken up into itself the moral development\nof the ages preceding. Kant's practical reason, his conscience, to speak\nplain English, was not the practical reason of, for example, Aristotle.\nThe latter could speak of a slave as an \"animated tool,\" and could\nbelieve there were men intended by nature for slavery. Kant could not. In\ntheory an individualist, the Sage of Konigsberg stands, in reality, not\nfar from Hegel. He does not break with the past. But Nietzsche is revolt\nincarnate.\n\n\nPART VIII\n\nTHE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL\n\n\nCHAPTER XXX\n\nASPECTS OF THE ETHICS OF REASON\n\n\n139. THE DOCTRINE SUPPORTED BY THE OTHER SCHOOLS.--- I urge the more\nconfidently the Ethics of Reason, or the Ethics of the Rational Social\nWill, because there is so little in it that is really new. It only makes\narticulate what we all know already, and strives to get rid of certain\nexaggerations into which many men who reason, and who reason well, have\nunwittingly fallen.\n\nThe fundamentals of the doctrine have been exhibited in Parts V and VI of\nthis volume, and the exaggerations alluded to have been treated in Part\nVII. Hence, I may speak very briefly in indicating how the Ethics of\nReason finds a many-sided support in schools which appear, on the\nsurface, to be in the opposition.\n\nIt is evident, to begin with, that the Ethics of the Social Will cannot\ndispense with Moral Intuitions, but must regard them as indispensable;\nas, indeed, the very foundation of the moral life. That the individual\nmay, and if he is properly equipped for the task, ought, to examine\ncritically his own moral intuitions and those of the community in which\nhe finds himself, and should, with becoming modesty and hesitation, now\nand then suggest an innovation, means no more than that he and the\ncommunity are not dead, but are living, and that progress is a\npossibility, at least.\n\nAs for the Egoist, unless he is an absurd extremist, we must admit that\nhe says much that is worth listening to. Was not Bentham quite right in\nmaintaining that if all A's interests were committed to B, and all B's to\nA, the world would get on very badly? A charity that begins at the planet\nMars would arrive nowhere. The Ethics of Reason has room for a very\ncareful consideration of the interests of the self. But it may object to\nthe position that the moral mathematician may regard as the only\nimportant number the number One.\n\nWith the Utilitarian our doctrine need have, as we have seen, no quarrel.\nDid not that learned, enlightened, and most fair-minded of utilitarians,\nSidgwick, ultimately resolve the happiness which men seek into anything\nwhich may be the object of the mind in willing? Did not a critical\nutilitarianism resolve itself into the doctrine of the Rational Social\nWill? Why take less critical utilitarians as the only exponents of the\nschool? Besides, is there any reason why the social will should be blind\nto the fact that men generally do desire to gain pleasure and to avoid\npain? It is only the exaggeration of this truth that we need to combat.\n\nTo Nature, properly understood, we can enter no objection. Who objects to\nPerfection as a \"counsel of perfection?\" Can the Social Will object to a\nman's striving to Realize his Capacities--under proper control, and with\na regard to others? The Pessimist is an unhealthy creature, and the\nSocial Will represents normal and healthy humanity. Here we have\ndisparity. But to Evolution our doctrine offers no opposition. It is only\nby a process of development that the Actual Social Will has come to be\nwhat it is; and the Rational Social Will looks to a further development\nunder the guidance of reason.\n\nThe fact is that thoughtful men belonging to different schools tend to\nintroduce into their statement of their doctrines modifying clauses; and\nin the end we find them not as far apart as they seemed at the beginning.\nThe tendency is, I think, in the direction of the recognition of the\nRational Social Will. This doctrine belongs to nobody in particular; it\nis the. common property of us all. It contains little that is startling.\n\n140. ITS METHOD OF APPROACH TO PROBLEMS.---He who looks to the Rational\nSocial Will for guidance is given a compass which may be of no small\nservice to him. For example:\n\n(1) He will see that moral phenomena are not to be isolated. He will\naccept the historic order of society and judge man and his emotions and\nactions in the light of it. He will never feel tempted to say, with\nBentham, that the pleasure which has its roots in malice, envy, cruelty,\n\"taken by itself, is good.\" [Footnote: _Principles of Morals and\nLegislation,_ chapter x, Sec 10, note.]\n\nHe will simply say, it is pleasure. That it is, of course; but he will\nmaintain that nothing \"taken by itself\" is either good or bad, from the\nmoralist's point of view. The cruel man may will to see suffering, and\nmay enjoy it. The moral man may hold that the cruel man, his act of will,\nand his pleasure, should all be snuffed out, in the interest of humanity,\nas an unmitigated evil.\n\n(2) The advocate of the Rational Social Will recognizes, as do many\nadherents of other schools, that the social will, as expressed at any\ngiven time, is only relatively rational; that men must live in their own\nday and generation, although they can, to some degree, reach beyond them;\nand that some differences of opinion as to the relative values of\nvirtues, and the goodness of characters, are to be expected.\n\n(3) Furthermore, he is in a position to explain how a man may be\n\"subjectively\" right and yet \"objectively\" wrong. The man's character may\nbe such that it is, on the whole, to be approved by the Rational Social\nWill. He may be animated by the desire to adjust himself to that will.\nAnd yet, the accident of ignorance, the accident of prejudice not\nrecognized by himself as such, may lead him to do what he thinks right\nand what those more enlightened recognize to be wrong.\n\n141. ITS SOLUTION OF CERTAIN DIFFICULTIES.--Perhaps it would be better\nfor me to give this section a heading more nearly like the last. I aim\nonly to give the reader a point of view from which he can approach the\nproblem of a solution.\n\nTake the problem which has come up before in the form of the distribution\nof pleasures. [Footnote: See Sec 109.] He who dwells, not so much upon\npleasure, as upon the satisfaction of desire and will, must state it\ndifferently, but the problem is much the same. What degree of recognition\nshould be given to the will of each individual, or to the separate\nvolitions and desires in the life of the individual? Should everybody\ncount for one? Should every desire or group of desires receive\nrecognition? Is no distinction to be made in the intensity of desires?\nAnd how many individuals shall we include in our reckoning?\n\nLight seems to be shed upon this complicated problem or set of problems\nwhen we hold clearly before ourselves what the task of reason is in\nregulating the life of man individually and collectively. Its function is\nto bring order out of chaos and strife; to substitute harmony and\nplanfulness for accident; to introduce long views in the place of\nmomentary impulses; to prevent the barter of permanent good for a mess of\npottage.\n\nReason must accept the impulses and instincts of man as it finds them,\nand do what it can with them. It cannot ignore them. Slowly,\ncivilizations, to some degree rational, have come into being. In so far\nas they are rational, they are justified. Keeping all this in view we may\nsay, tentatively:\n\n(a) The principle, \"everybody to count for one, and nobody for more than\none,\" must be interpreted as an expression of the conviction that no will\nshould be _needlessly_ sacrificed.\n\nReason is bodiless, except as incorporated in human societies, and these\nmust have their historic development. Can we do away with the special\nclaims of family, of neighborhood, of the state? They have their place in\nthe historic rational order. But the whispered \"everybody to count for\none\" may help us to realize that such special claims cannot take the\nplace of all others.\n\n(b) Shall a deliberate attempt be made to enlarge the circle of those who\nare to share in the social will, not merely by diminishing the number of\ndeaths, but by promoting the number of births? States have attempted it\noften enough. I can only say that, if this be attempted, it should not be\nattempted in ways that ignore the historical development of society, with\nits social and moral traditions.\n\n(c) Why not justify our attitude toward the brutes by maintaining that\nthey have, theoretically, rights to recognition, in so far as such\nrecognition does not interfere with the rights of man in the rational\nsocial order? The brutes outnumber us, to be sure. We are in a hopeless\nminority. But were this minority sacrificed, there would be no rational\nsocial order at all--no right, no wrong; nothing but the clash of wills\nor impulses which reason now strives to harmonize as it can. [Footnote:\nSee chapter xxi]\n\n(d) When we turn to the problem of the distribution of satisfactions in\nthe life of the individual, we find ready to hand a variety of unwise\nsaws--\"A short life and a merry one,\" and the like.\n\nHow should the individual choose his satisfactions? Merely from the\nstandpoint of the individual? What is _desirable_? Not _desired_,\nby this man or by that, but _desirable, reasonable_?\n\nIt is an open secret that the house of mirth lacks every convenience\ndemanded of a permanent residence, and that those who breathlessly pursue\npleasure are seldom pleased. Nor do men, when they stop to think, want\ntheir lives to be very short.\n\nAnd, in any case, this question of the distribution of satisfactions in\nthe life of the individual does not concern the individual alone. Is the\nman who wants a short life and a merry one an \"undesirable\" from the\nstandpoint of the Rational Social Will? Then he should be suppressed. The\nmanner of distribution of even his own personal satisfactions is not his\naffair exclusively. Every ordered society has its notions touching the\ntype of man which suits its ends.\n\n(e) But shall we, in making up our minds about the \"satisfaction on the\nwhole\" which busies the rational individual or the rational community,\ntake no account at all of the intensity of pleasures and of pains, the\neagerness with which some things are desired and the feebleness of the\nimpulsion toward others? May not the intense thrill of a moment more than\ncounterbalance \"four lukewarm hours?\" Are we not, if we take such things\ninto consideration, back again face to face with something very like the\ncalculus of pleasures--that bugbear of the egoist and of the utilitarian?\n\nIt would be foolish to maintain that man, either individually or\ncollectively, places all desires upon the same level. No man of sense\nholds that every desire should count as one. On the other hand, no man of\nsense pretends to have any accurate unit of measurement by which he can\nmake unerring estimates of desirability.\n\nFortunately, he is not compelled to fall back upon such a unit. Even if\nhe was born yesterday, the race was not. He is born into a system of\nvalues expressed in social organization and social institutions. It is\nthe resultant of innumerable expressions of preference on the part of\ninnumerable men. It is a general guide to what, on the whole, man wants.\n\nIt is, then, foolish for him to raise such questions as, whether it is\nnot better to aim at intense happiness on the part of the few, to the\nutter ignoring of the mass of mankind. Such questions the Rational Social\nWill has already answered in the negative.\n\n142. THE CULTIVATION OF OUR CAPACITIES.--Finally, we may approach the\nquestion whether it is reasonable to awake dormant desires, to call into\nbeing new needs; which, satisfied, may be recognized as a good, but\nwhich, unsatisfied, may result in unhappiness. [Footnote: Compare chapter\nxxi, Sec 86.]\n\nA little cup may be filled with what leaves a big one half empty. It is\neasy to find grounds upon which to congratulate the \"average\" man. All\nthe world caters to him--ready-made clothing is measured to fit his\nfigure, and it is sold cheap; the average restaurant consults his taste\nand his pocket; the average woman just suits him as a help-mate; he is\nmuch at home with his neighbors, most of whom diverge little from the\naverage. Why strive to rise above the average--and fall into a divine\ndiscontent?\n\nMay one not say much the same of a community? Why should it strive to\nattain to new conquests, to awaken in its members new wants and strain to\nsatisfy them? Does it seem self-evident that it is reasonable, in\ngeneral, to multiply desires with no guarantee of their satisfaction?\n\nI know no way of approaching the solution of this problem save from the\nstandpoint of the Rational Social Will. We are confronted with the\ngeneral problem of the desirability of civilization, with all that that\nimplies. The life of man in some rather primitive societies has seemed in\ncertain respects rather idyllic. The eating of the fruit of the tree, and\nthe consequent opening of the eyes, has, time and again, seemed to result\nin disaster.\n\nBut was the idyllic life not an accidental thing, due to a fortuitous\ncombination of circumstances, rather than to man's intelligent control of\na larger environment? Civilization of some sort seems inevitable. Have we\nany other guarantee that we can make it, in the long run, rational, than\na many-sided development of man's capacities? And must we not exercise a\nbroad faith in the value of enlightenment, increase of knowledge,\nfarsightedness, the cultivation of complex emotions, even at the risk of\nsome waste of effort and some suffering to certain individuals?\n\nPerhaps this is as good a place as any to say a word about the\nsignificance of the terms \"higher\" and \"lower,\" when used in a moral\nsense. We have seen that John Stuart Mill made much of the distinction in\nhis utilitarianism. Bentham appears to sin against the enlightened moral\njudgment in holding that, quantities of pleasure being the same, \"push-\npin is as good as poetry.\"\n\nWhen we realize that the worth of things may be determined from the\nstandpoint of the Rational Social Will, we can easily understand that\nsome occupations and their accompanying pleasures should be rated higher\nthan others, however satisfactory the latter may seem to certain\nindividuals. It is not unreasonable to rate the pleasure of scientific\ndiscovery as higher than the pleasure of swallowing an oyster; and that,\nwithout following Bentham in falling back upon a quantitative standard,\nor following Mill in maintaining that pleasures, as pleasures, differ in\nkind. [Footnote: See chapter xxv, Sec 107.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXI\n\nTHE MORAL LAW AND MORAL IDEALS\n\n\n143. DUTIES AND VIRTUES.--We saw, at the very beginning of this volume\n[Footnote: Chapter i, Sec 2.] that a single moral law, so abstractly stated\nas to cover the whole sphere of conduct, must be something so vague and\nindeterminate as to be practically useless as a guide to action. The\nadmonition, \"do right,\" does not mean anything in particular to the man\nwho is not already well instructed as to what, in detail, constitutes\nright action. Nor do we make ourselves more intelligible, when we say to\nhim \"be good.\"\n\nIt seems to mean something more when we say \"act justly\" or \"be just\";\n\"speak the truth,\" or \"be truthful.\" And the more we particularize, the\nmore we help the individual confronted with concrete problems--the only\nproblems with which life actually confronts us.\n\nThis is as it should be. Duties and virtues are expressions of the\nRational Social Will, and that will is a mere abstraction except as it is\nincorporated, with a wealth of detail, in human societies. It would be\nhard for the small boy to classify, under any ten commandments, the\ninnumerable company of the \"don'ts\" which he hears from his mother during\nthe course of a week. He can leave such work to the moralist. But he is\nreceiving an education in the moral law, as an expression of the social\nwill, through the whole seven days.\n\nIf we wish, we can emphasize the _moral law_, and dwell upon the\n_duties_ of man. On the other hand, we may lay stress upon the\n_virtues_, and point to _ideals_. The Greek made much of the\nvirtues; the Christian moralist had more to say of man's duties. In the\nend, there need be little discrepancy in the results. I make the same\nrecommendation, whether I say to a man, Speak the truth! or whether I say\nto him, Be truthful!\n\nIt may be claimed that shades of difference make themselves apparent,\nwhere one emphasizes the law and another points to an ideal. Perhaps they\ndo, in most minds. It certainly sounds more conceited to say: \"I am\ntrying to be virtuous,\" than to say: \"I am trying to do my duty.\" On the\nother hand, the admonition, \"Be truthful,\" appears to leave one a little\nlatitude. We take the truthful man, so to speak, in the lump. If he has a\nstrong bias toward truth-speaking, and is felt to be reliable, on the\nwhole, it is not certain that we should rob him of his title on the\nground of one or two lapses for which weighty reasons could be urged. The\nadmonition: \"Speak the truth!\" seems more uncompromising; and yet he who\nprefers this legal form may maintain that it is a general admonition\naddressed to men of sense who are supposed to be able to exercise reason.\n\n144. THE NEGATIVE ASPECT OF THE MORAL LAW.--Why does the Moral Law, on\nthe surface at least, appear to be so largely negative? As we look back\nupon our early youth, our days appear to be punctuated with punishments.\nWhen we attain to years of discretion, this is not the case, with most of\nus, at least.\n\nBut when we turn to the law, in our own society or in others, we find\nprohibitions and penalties everywhere. Of rewards little is said. Is the\nsocial will meant to be chiefly inhibitory? Is it a check to the action\nof the individual?\n\n(1) The negative aspect of the moral law is, to a considerable degree, an\nillusion. The social will takes us up into itself and forms us. In our\nearly youth we are acutely conscious of the process. A vast number of the\nthings a boy wants to do are things that do not suit the social will at\nall. He wants to break windows; he wants to fight other boys; he wants to\nbe idle; his delight is in adventures not normally within the reach of,\nor suited to the taste of, the citizens of an ordered state. It is little\nwonder that the boy regards the moral law as a nuisance and the state as\na suitable refuge for those suffering from senile decay.\n\nThere are individuals who scarcely get beyond this stage. They remain,\neven in their later years, at war with the state. From time to time, we\nseize them and incarcerate them. That the law _forbids_ and\n_punishes_, they never forget. It is chiefly for such that the\ncriminal law exists. They are in the state, but they are not of it. They\nhave small share in the heritage of the civilized man.\n\nFor most of us there comes a time when most prohibitions are little\nthought of. It has been maintained, that the law is negative partly for\nthe reason that positive duties are too numerous to be formulated. But\nhow numerous are the things that ought not to be done which normal men\nnever think of doing! At this moment, I could swallow a pen, taste the\nink in the ink-well, throw my papers from the window, hurl the porcelain\njar on the chimney-piece at the cat next door, swing on the chandelier. I\nam conscious of no constraint in not doing these things. Why? I have\nbecome to some degree adjusted to the type which the social will strives\nto produce.\n\n(2) And, having become so far adjusted, I recognize that the social will\nis distributing rewards most lavishly. The whole organism of society is\nits instrument. Work is found for me, and I am paid for it. If I am\nindustrious and dependable, I am recompensed. If I am truthful, I am\nbelieved, which is no little convenience. If I am energetic and\npersevering, I may grow rich or be elected to office. If I am courteous,\nI am liked and am treated with courtesy.\n\nEvery day I am paid, in the ordinary course of things, according to my\ndeserts. Why should society work out an extraordinary system of rewards\nfor those whom it is already rewarding automatically?\n\nIn some cases, recourse is had to extraordinary rewards. We give prizes\nto children in the schools; we give medals to soldiers for distinguished\nservice; we confer honorary degrees upon men for a variety of reasons. In\nmonarchical countries and in their colonies, the man who earns an\nextraordinary reward may even pass it on, in the shape of a title, to his\ndescendants, as though it were original sin. But the giving of\nextraordinary rewards to all ordinary, normal persons would be too much.\n\nThe man who markedly offends against the moral law is not an ordinary,\nnormal person. He is not adjusted to the social will. It is natural that\nhe should attract especial attention. Thus the \"Thou shalt not!\" is given\nprominence. To this I might add, that punishments are cheaper and easier\nthan extraordinary rewards. Pains are sharper than pleasures, and are\neasily inflicted.\n\n(3) It is worthy of remark that, with the evolution of morality, it tends\nto become positive. The enlightened moral man recognizes, not merely the\nactual social will, but also the Rational Social Will. He may feel it his\nduty to do much more than society formally demands of him.\n\n145. HOW CAN ONE KNOW THE MORAL LAW?--This question has already been\nanswered in chapters preceding. Every man has three counsellors: (1) The\n\"objective\" morality of his community--custom, law, and public opinion,\nwhich certainly deserve to be taken very seriously; (2) his moral\nintuitions, which may be of the finest; and (3) his reason, which\nprevents him from making decisions without reflection.\n\nCan a man who listens to these three counsellors be sure that he is right\nin a given decision? The sooner a man learns that he is not infallible\nand impeccable, the better it will be for him, for his neighbor, and for\nthe world at large.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXII\n\nTHE MORAL CONCEPTS\n\n\n146. GOOD AND BAD; RIGHT AND WRONG.--As a rule, men reflect little\ntouching the moral terms which are on their lips every day. It is well\nworth while to take some of them up and to turn them over for\nexamination.\n\nWe may use the terms \"good\" and \"bad,\" \"right\" and \"wrong,\" in a very\nbroad sense. A \"good\" trick may be a contemptible action; the \"right\" way\nto crack a bank-safe may be the means to the successful commission of a\ncrime. Evidently, the words, thus used, are not employed in a moral\nsense.\n\nWhen we pass judgments from the moral point of view, we concern ourselves\nwith men and with their actions, and measure them by the standard of the\nsocial will. Men and actions are \"good,\" when they can meet the test.\nActions are \"right\" or \"wrong,\" when they are in accordance with the\ndictates of the moral law, or are at variance with them. That an act may\nbe both right and wrong, when viewed from different standpoints, even on\nmoral ground, we have seen in Chapter XXX. A man may mean to do right,\nand may, through ignorance or error, be guilty of an act that we condemn.\nTo the intelligent, confusions are here unnecessary. But the history of\nethics is full of confusions in just this field.\n\n147. DUTY AND OBLIGATION.--Verbal usage sometimes justifies the use of\none of these words, and sometimes that of the other. We say: I did my\nduty; we do not say: I did my obligation. But this is a mere matter of\nverbal expression, and we are really concerned with two names for the\nsame thing.\n\n(1) There has been much dispute as to whether the sense of duty or moral\nobligation can or cannot be analyzed. It has been declared unanalyzable\nand unique. Some think this a point of much importance which imparts a\npeculiar sacredness to the sense of duty.\n\nThere appears no reason why this position should be taken. No one has\nbeen able to analyze into its ultimate sensational elements the peculiar\nfeeling one has when one is tickled. But this does not make the feeling\nsacred or awe-inspiring. The authority of the sense of duty must be\nlooked for in another direction--and authority it has.\n\n(2) I have spoken of the \"sense\" of duty. We all recognize that, when we\nare faced with a duty, a feeling is normally present. But the whole\nargument of this volume has maintained that man is not to be treated only\nas the subject of emotions. He is a rational being. In some persons\nfeeling is very prominent; in others it is less so. It is quite\nconceivable that, in a given case, a man capable of reflection should\nrecognize that he is confronted with a duty, and yet that he should feel\nno impulse to perform it. Did no one ever feel any such impulse, the\nwhole system of duties, the whole rational order of society itself, would\ndissolve and disappear.\n\nFortunately, the normal man does feel an impulse to perform duties\nrecognized as such. And in the case of those exceptional persons who do\nnot, society strives to supply surrogates, extraordinary impulses based\nupon a system of rewards and punishments. This is a mere supplement, and\ncould never keep alive a society from which the sense of duty had\ndisappeared.\n\nDuty _is_ sacred. It is the very foundation of every rational\nsociety. It does not greatly concern ethics whether the impulse, which\nmakes itself felt in men who want to do their duty, can or cannot be\nanalyzed. But it is all-important that they should feel the impulse.\n\n(3) Can a man do more than his duty? Is it the duty of everyone to be,\nnot merely a good, average, honest, faithful, law-abiding citizen, but to\ngo far beyond this and be conspicuously a saint?\n\nIt should be remembered that we are concerned with the connotation\nproperly to be given to a word in common use.\n\nA certain amount of goodness the social will appears to demand of men\nrather peremptorily. Its demands seem to vary somewhat with the\nexigencies of the times--for example, in peace and in war. It does not\nmake the same demands of all men. From those to whom much has been given--\nwealth, education, social or political influence,--much is required.\nFrom certain persons it appears to be glad to get anything. If they keep\nout of the police-court, it is agreeably surprised.\n\nI have no desire to dissuade anyone from the arduous pursuit of\nsainthood; but I submit that the word \"duty,\" as sanctioned by usage,\nimplies but a limited demand, and takes cognizance of character and\nenvironment. He who comes up to this moderate standard is not condemned;\nbut he is free to go farther and to become as great a saint as he\npleases. In which case, we admire him. Those who, in the past, have\nspoken of \"counsels of perfection,\" have drawn upon a profound knowledge\nof human nature and of human societies.\n\n148. REWARD AND PUNISHMENT.--We saw in the last chapter (Sec 144) that it\nis something of a criticism upon man and upon societies of men that\nextraordinary rewards have to be given and that punishments must be\ninflicted.\n\nMore attention has been paid to punishments than to rewards, and the\nquestion touching the proper aim of punishment in a civilized state has\nreceived much discussion. The study of the history of the infliction of\npunishment is suggestive, but it does not shed a clear light. The social\nwill has not always been a rational social will, and some of its\ndecisions may be placed among the curiosities of literature. Still, they\nmay serve the purpose of the traditional \"terrible example.\"\n\nShould we, in punishing, aim at the prevention of crime? Are punishments\nto be \"deterrent\"? Under this head we must consider, not merely the\ncriminal himself, but also those who are in more or less danger of\nbecoming criminals, though they have, as yet, committed no known crime.\n\nShould the aim of punishment be the reformation of the criminal?\n\nShould we punish merely that \"justice\" be done? He who steals and eats\nfruit is visited with punishment, in the course of nature, if the fruit\nis unripe. But he suffers equally if he eats his own fruit, under like\nconditions. This seems a blind punishment. Should we visit pain upon him\nfor the theft, merely because it is a theft, and without looking abroad\nfor any other reason?\n\nLight appears to be thrown upon these problems when we reflect that\npunishment is an instrument, employed by the Rational Social Will, in\npursuance of its ends.\n\n(1) It is desirable that men should be deterred from committing crime. If\nthis cannot be done save by the infliction of punishment, then let men be\npunished. But be it remembered that punishment is a regrettable\nnecessity, and that the occasions for the infliction of penalties may\ngreatly be diminished by the amelioration of the organism of society.\nThere is the born criminal, as there is the born inmate of an asylum for\nthe insane. But there is also the manufactured criminal; the product of\nthe slum, the victim of ignorance, the prey of the walking-delegate, the\nsufferer from over-work and undernourishment, the inhabitant of the\nfilthy and overcrowded tenement, the man robbed of his self-respect, who\nhas no share in the sweetness and light of civilization. A society that\nfirst manufactures criminals and then expends great sums in punishing\nthem is, in so far, not rational.\n\n(2) It is desirable that the criminal should be reformed and returned to\nsociety as a normal man. But this is not the one and only aim of the\nsocial will. The whole flock should not be sacrificed to the one black\nsheep, as some sentimental persons appear to believe. There is room here\nfor the exercise of judgment and of some cool calculation.\n\n(3) As for the demand that a given pain shall be inflicted for a given\nwrong done, irrespective of any gain to anybody, and irrespective of\nconsequences,--it appears to carry one back to ancient and primitive law.\n\nUndoubtedly many punishments have been inflicted in the past to satisfy\nthe sense of resentment. [Footnote: It may be objected that we are not\nconcerned here with resentment but with the satisfaction of \"justice.\"\nMen's notions of the \"justice\" of punishments have been touched upon in\nchapter ii, Sec 4. Plato suggests, in his Laws, that the slave who steals a\nbunch of grapes should receive a blow for every grape in the bunch. This\nhas an agreeably mathematical flavor of exactitude. But what shall be\ndone to the man who steals half of a ham or a third of a watermelon?]\nUndoubtedly the same is true of the present. Can anything be said in\nfavor of this impulse? It plays no small part in the life of humanity.\n\nWe feel that a bad man _ought_ to be punished. We harbor a certain\nresentment against him. The resentment of the individual for personal\ninjuries we recognize to be wrong. It is not impartial, and it is apt to\nbe excessive and unreasoning. Public order demands that it be refused\nexpression.\n\nBut is the--we must admit, somewhat more disinterested--resentment of the\ncommunity a rational thing? Have men, collectively, no whims, no\nprejudices? When a trial is deferred, and public indignation has cooled\noff, how do the chances of the prisoner compare with those he enjoyed\njust after the commission of the crime? And yet something may be said for\npublic resentment. It has a certain driving-power. It may be questioned\nwhether either our desire to deter men from crime, or our benevolent\ninterest in the criminal, would be quite sufficient to enforce law, if\nall sense of resentment against the law-breaker were lacking. Its\nusefulness as an instrument of the social will appears to give it a\ncertain justification. But it also suggests that even public resentment\nshould not be given free rein.\n\nBefore leaving the subject of reward and punishment, it may be well to\nsay a word touching our use of the terms _credit_ and _discredit_, _merit_\nand _demerit_.\n\nWe do not give a man credit for an action, we do not think of him as\nmeritorious, merely because he has done right. Who thinks of praising the\nyoung mother for feeding and washing her first-born? Who shakes the hand\nof the Sunday-school teacher and congratulates him upon having stolen\nnothing for a week? But the waif from the gutter who wanders through a\ndepartment-store and resolutely takes nothing, emerging exhausted with\nthe struggle, we slap upon the back and call a little man.\n\nOur notions of credit and merit are bound up with our notions of\nextraordinary rewards. The creditable action, the meritorious man, have a\ncertain claim upon us, if only the claim of special recognition. Any man\nwho makes a notable step forward deserves credit, whatever his actual\nposition upon the moral scale. He who only \"marks time\" upon a relatively\nhigh level may be a good man, but we do not give him credit for the act\nnormally to be expected of him. The recognition of merit is a part of the\nmachinery of moralization.\n\n149. VIRTUES AND VICES.--One swallow, said Aristotle, does not make a\nspring, nor does one happy day make a happy life. Elsewhere he draws our\nattention to the fact that one good action does not constitute a virtue.\n\nWe may define the virtues as those relatively permanent qualities of\ncharacter which it is desirable, from the moral point of view, that a man\nshould have. The vices are the corresponding defects. I shall not attempt\nto draw up a list of the virtues. For a variety of lists, exhibiting\ncurious and interesting diversities, I refer the reader back to Chapter\nIII, Sec Sec 9-11.\n\nThe Rational Social Will aims to build up a social order which shall do\njustice to the fundamental impulses and desires of man, a social and\nrational creature. The stones which it must build into its edifice are\nhuman beings. If the human beings are mere lumps of soft clay, incapable\nof holding their shape or of bearing any weight, the walls cannot rise.\nAnd a human being may be satisfactory in one respect, and far from\nsatisfactory in another. No one of us is wholly ignorant of the qualities\ndesirable in our building-material. Custom, law and public opinion are\nthere to indicate what qualities have, in fact, proved, on the whole, not\ndetrimental. Our intuitions help us in forming a judgment. Rational\nreflection is of service.\n\nBut one thing is very evident. Nowhere is it made clearer than in the\nstudy of the virtues and vices, that the moralist cannot consider the\nphenomena, with which he occupies himself, in a state of isolation.\n\nIs courage a virtue? Is, then, the man who is willing to take the risk of\nbreaking a bank, or holding up a stage-coach, in so far virtuous? Is\nperseverance a virtue? Is, then, the woman, who holds out to the bitter\nend in her desire to have the last word, in so far virtuous? Is justice a\nvirtue? Then why not be virtuous in demanding the pound of flesh, if it\nis the law--as it once was?\n\nCertain qualities of character have been recognized as, _on the\nwhole_, and _generally_, serviceable to the social will. But a\nman is not a quality of character, and qualities of character are\nsometimes gathered into strange bundles. It is of men that the state is\ncomposed; of thinking, feeling men. We cannot isolate qualities of\ncharacter, and assess their value in their isolation.\n\n150. CONSCIENCE.--We are all forced to recognize that conscience has its\ndual aspect. It is characterized by _feeling_; and the feeling is\nseldom blind, or, at least, wholly blind; conscience implies a\n_judgment_ that something is right or wrong.\n\n(1) The feeling is, to be sure, very often in the foreground. Those who\nsay, \"My conscience tells me that this is wrong,\" often mean little more\nthan, \"I feel that it is wrong.\"\n\nBut the word \"feeling\" is an ambiguous one. It is used to cover all sorts\nof intuitive judgments as well as mere emotions. The man who takes the\ntime to reflect upon his feeling of the rightness or wrongness of an\naction can often discover some, perhaps rather vague, reason for his\nfeeling proper.\n\n(2) In other words, he may come upon an intuitive judgment. And the\nthoughtful man who talks about his conscience is rarely satisfied with a\nblind intuition; he wants to be sure he is right, and he thinks the whole\nmatter over.\n\n(3) The feeling and the judgment are not necessarily in accord. The\nfeeling may lag behind an enlightened judgment. On the other hand, the\nfeeling of repugnance to acting in certain ways may be a justifiable\nprotest against a bit of intellectual sophistry.\n\n(4) So much ought to be admitted by everyone who holds that conscience\nmay be blunted or may be enlightened. Consciences vary indefinitely. Some\nwe set down as hopelessly below the average; others we reverence as\nrefined and enlightened. The social worker makes it his aim to \"awaken\"\nconscience, to cultivate it, to bring it up to a high standard. No\npractical moralist regards the conscience of the individual as something\nwhich must simply be left to itself and treated as sacred, no matter what\nits character.\n\n(5) The above sufficiently explains some of the puzzles which confront\nthe man who reverences conscience and yet studies the consciences of his\nfellow-men. He finds that the individual conscience is not an infallible\nguide-post pointing to right action; that it is not a perfect time-\nkeeper, in complete accord with the watches of other men.\n\n\"It's a turrible thing to have killed the wrong man,\" said the\nconscience-stricken illicit distiller in his mountain fastness. \"I never\nseen good come o' goodness yet; him as strikes first is my fancy,\" said\nthe dying pirate in \"Treasure Island.\" Augustine, passing over much worse\noffences, exhausts himself in agonies of remorse over a boyish prank.\n[Footnote: See chapter xx, Sec 78.] Seneca draws up a list of the most\nhorrifying crimes, and decides that ingratitude exceeds them all in\nenormity. [Footnote: _On Benefits_, i, 10.]\n\n(6) It appears to be quite evident that consciences ought to be\nstandardized, and that the standard should be made a high one. The true\nstandard is the one set by the Rational Social Will. It is as much a duty\nto have a good conscience as it is to obey the conscience one has.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIII\n\nTHE ETHICS OF THE INDIVIDUAL\n\n\n151. WHAT IS MEANT BY THE TERM?--Men collected into groups and organized\nin various ways we call states, and we treat a state as a unit. We look\nupon it as having rights and as owing duties both to individuals and to\nother states. There are individuals whom we are apt to regard as\nrepresentatives of the state; as instruments, rather than as men--\nexecutive officers, legislators, official interpreters of its laws,\nwhether good or bad. For states and their representatives we often have\nespecial moral standards, differing more or less from those by which we\njudge human beings merely as human beings. It is with the morality of the\nlatter that I am here concerned.\n\nTo be sure, all human beings are to be found in states, or in that\nrudimentary social something which foreshadows the state. To talk of the\nmorality of the isolated individual is nonsense. Morality is the\nexpression of the social will; and if we think of even Robinson Crusoe as\na good man, it means that we apply to him social standards. Had he not\nbeen moralized, he would have killed and eaten Friday, when the latter\nmade his appearance.\n\nWe must, then, take the individual as we find him in the state, but it is\nconvenient to consider his morality separately from the ethics of the\nstate, its institutions and its instruments.\n\n152. THE VIRTUES OF THE INDIVIDUAL.--What moral traits have we a right to\nlook for in the individual man? What sort of a man is it his duty to be?\n\nEvidently, men's duties must vary somewhat according to the type of the\nsociety to which they belong, and to their definite place in that\nsociety. Still, certain general desirable traits of character unavoidably\nsuggest themselves. To attempt a complete list seems futile, but the most\nsalient have been dwelt upon by the moralists of many schools, and for\ncenturies past.\n\nDoes it not appear self-evident that a man should be law-abiding, honest,\nindustrious, truthful, and capable of unselfishness? Should he not have a\nregard for his health and efficiency? Should he not aim to develop his\ncapacities, and in so far to diminish the dead mass of ignorance and bad\ntaste which weighs down society?\n\nOf marital fidelity, with all that that implies--personal purity, the\ngood of one's children, a fine sense of loyalty--it is scarcely necessary\nto speak. No man, betrothed or married, can be sure that he will not meet\ntomorrow some woman whom the unprejudiced would judge to be more\nattractive than the one to whom he has bound himself. Shall he remain\nunprejudiced--a floating mine, ready to explode at any accidental\ncontact? Away with him! He has, in the eyes of the scientific moralist,\n\"too much ego in his cosmos.\" Those babble of \"affinities\" who know\nlittle, and care less, about the long and arduous ascent up which mankind\nhas toiled, in the effort to attain to civilization.\n\nAnd what shall we say of such things as religious duties, of\ncheerfulness, of good manners, of personal cleanliness? Of religious\nduties I shall speak elsewhere. [Footnote: Chapter xxxvi.] As to\ncheerfulness and good manners, it is only necessary to reflect upon the\nbaleful influence exercised upon the young--who have here my entire\nsympathy--by a bilious and depressing piety, or by those who are rudely\nand superciliously moral.\n\nCleanliness deserves some special attention, on account of the fact that\nit has perplexed even thoughtful scholars to discover why society has\ncome to regard it as a duty at all. [Footnote: The chapter on cleanliness\nby Epictetus is a homily, and not a philosophic argument. See,\n_Discourses_, Book IV, chapter xi.] That, if society does regard\ncleanliness as important, it should be the duty of the individual to keep\nhimself and his house clean presents no problem. He has no right to make\nhimself gratuitously offensive, and gratuitously offensive he will be, if\nhe is a dirty fellow. But why does anyone object to his being a dirty\nfellow? The prejudice in favor of cleanliness does not appear to be\nuniversal--witness the Eskimo and various other peoples.\n\nWe have learned that the social will has its foundation in the\nfundamental impulses and instincts of man. An admirable scholar has\nsuggested that the ultimate root of the regard for cleanliness which more\nor less characterizes civilized societies may be traced to some such\nprimitive and inexplicable impulse to cleanliness as we observe, for\nexample, in the cat. [Footnote: WESTERMARCK, _Origin and Development of\nthe Moral Ideas_, chapter xxxix.] It must be admitted that it is far\nmore marked in the cat than in the human being. A kitten is much more\nfastidious than is a baby, and a grown cat would tolerate no powder or\nrouge.\n\nBut, assuming that such an instinct exists, even in weak measure, it\nmight easily develop with the development of society. And, as man is a\nrational being, capable of discovering a connection between cleanliness\nand hygiene, the duty of cleanliness would acquire a new authority. Dirt\nbecomes no longer merely distasteful; it is recognized as a danger.\n\n153. CONVENTIONAL MORALITY.--There are virtues--taking the traits of\ncharacter indicated by the names broadly and loosely, and making\nallowance for all sorts of variations within wide limits--which appear to\nbe recognized as such very generally. Bishop Butler regarded justice,\nveracity and regard to common good as valued in all societies. Certainly\nthey have served as expressions of the social will in many societies,\nancient and modern, primitive and highly civilized.\n\nWe have seen that the forms under which they appear are not independent\nof the degree and kind of the development of the society we may happen to\nbe contemplating. [Footnote: See chapter ii.] And we have realized that\nman is born into a world of ready-made duties which are literally forced\nupon his attention. He finds himself a member of a family, somebody's\nneighbor, a resident in a town or village, allotted to a social class, an\nemployer or an employee, a citizen of a state. Justice, veracity and a\nregard for common good appear to have their value in all these relations;\nbut the manner of their interpretation is not independent of the\nrelations, and the relations with their appropriate demands are\nrelatively independent of the individual will. One cannot ignore these\ndemands and fall back, independently, upon metaphysical theory.\nAristotle's claim that a man cannot be unjust to his own child, because\nthe child is a part of himself, and a man cannot be unjust to himself,\n[Footnote: _Ethics_, Book V, chapter vi, Sec 7.] excites our\ncuriosity. It does not elicit our approval.\n\nIt is because the vast majority of our duties are so unequivocally thrust\nupon us that I have been able to touch so lightly, in the last section,\nupon the duties of the individual. Why dilate upon what everybody knows?\nIs it not enough to set him thinking about it?\n\nAnd, in helping him to think, the reference to the virtue of cleanliness\nhas its value. Cleanliness is prized by those who know little of hygiene.\nIf a society cannot be happy without cleanliness, for whatever reason, is\nit not the duty of the individual to be clean? But _how_ clean\nshould he be?\n\nThere are virtues--I use the word here broadly to cover approved habits--\nwhich seem to have a very direct reference to chronology and geography.\nThey are _conventional virtues_; they suit a given society, and\nsatisfy its actual social will. A Vermont housekeeper in an _igloo_\nwould be an intolerable nuisance. Imagine an unbroken succession of New\nEngland house-cleanings with the inhabitants of the house sitting in\ndespair in the snow outside.\n\nThose who live north of the Alps are sometimes criticized for dipping\nZwieback into their tea. Those who live south of the Alps eat macaroni in\nways revolting to other nations. A very pretty Frenchwoman, devouring\nsnails after the approved fashion of the locality, has driven me out of\nan excellent restaurant. And the world opens its eyes in wonder when it\nsees the well-bred Anglo-Saxon dispose of his asparagus.\n\nThere is a little-recognized virtue called toleration. St. Ambrose was a\nwise man when he advised St. Augustine to do, when in Rome, as the Romans\ndo. Of course, he did not mean this to apply to robbery or to murder. He\nwas giving an involuntary recognition to the doctrine that there are\nconventional virtues, worthy of our notice, as well as virtues of heavier\ncaliber and wider range.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIV\n\nTHE ETHICS OF THE STATE\n\n\n154. THE AIM OF THE STATE.--He who has resolved to devote but a single\nchapter to the Ethics of the State must deliberately sacrifice nine-\ntenths, at least, of the material--some of it very good material, and\nsome of it most curious and interesting--which has heaped itself together\non his hands in the course of his reading and thinking. I have resolved\nto write only the one chapter. The State is the background of the\nindividual, the scaffold which supports his moral life. Without it, he\nmay be a being; but he is scarcely recognizable as a _human_ being.\nIt has made the individual what he is, and it is the medium in which he\ncan give expression to the nature which he now possesses.\n\nPlato maintains that the object of the constitution of the state is the\nhappiness of the whole, not of any part. [Footnote: _Republic_, II.\nIt must be borne in mind that both Plato and Aristotle had the Greek\nprejudice touching citizenship. Their \"citizenship\" was enjoyed by a\nstrictly limited class.] Aristotle, in his \"Politics,\" maintains that it\nis the aim of the state to enable men to live well. Sidgwick defines\npolitics as \"the theory of what ought to be (in human affairs) as far as\nthis depends on the common action of societies of men.\" [Footnote: _The\nMethods of Ethics_, chapter ii.] We may agree with all three, and yet\nleave ourselves much latitude in determining the nature of the\norganization of, and the limits properly to be set to the activities of,\nthe State as such. Shall the State only strive to repress grave\ndisorders? or shall it take a paternal interest in its citizens, making\nthem virtuous and happy in spite of themselves?\n\n155. ITS ORIGIN AND AUTHORITY.--In Parts III to VI we have seen how and\nupon what basis the State has grown up. It is an organism, something that\nlives and grows. It is not a machine, deliberately put together at a\ndefinite time by some man or some group of men. The \"social contract\"\nfanatic may have read history, but he has not understood it. Of\npsychology he has no comprehension at all.\n\nHerodotus, at some of whose stories we smile, was a wiser man. He writes:\n\"It appears certain to me, by a great variety of proofs, that Cambyses\nwas raving mad; he would not else have set himself to make a mock of holy\nrites and long-established usages. For, if one were to offer men to\nchoose out of all the customs in the world such as seemed to them the\nbest, they would examine the whole number, and end by preferring their\nown; so convinced are they that their own usages far surpass those of all\nothers.\" [Footnote: _The History of Herodotus_, Book III, chapter\nxxxviii, translated by GEORGE RAWLINSON, London, 1910.]\n\nThis may be something of an over-statement, for men in one state have\nshown themselves to be, within limits, capable of learning from men in\nanother. But only within limits. Those things which give a state\nstability--and without stability we are tossed upon the waves of mere\nanarchy--have their roots in the remote past. Strip a man of his past,\nand he is little better than an idiot; strip men within the State of\ntheir corporate institutions and ideals, of their loyalties and emotional\nleanings, and we have on our hands a mob of savages, something much below\nthe tribe proper, knit into unity of purpose by custom and tribal law.\n\nThe State has its origin in man as a creature desiring and willing, and\nat the same time endowed with reason. Its authority is the authority of\nreason. Not reason in the abstract, with no ground to stand upon, and no\nmaterial for its exercise; but reason as incorporate in institutions and\nsocial usages; reason which takes cognizance of the nature of man, and\nrecognizes what man has already succeeded in doing.\n\nWhere shall we look for a limit to the authority of the State? Surely,\nonly in the Reason which makes it possible for the State to be. The State\nmust not defeat its own object.\n\n156. FORMS OF ORGANIZATION.--The special science of politics enters in\ndetail into the forms of organization of the State. The ethical\nphilosopher must content himself with certain general reflections.\nEveryone knows that States have been organized in divers ways; and that\ntheir citizens, under much the same form of political organization, have\nbeen here happy and contented, and there in a state of ferment. The form\nof government counts for something; but its suitability to the population\ngoverned, and the degree of enlightenment and discipline characteristic\nof the population, count for much more. It is not every shoe that fits\nevery foot, and there are feet that are little at home in shoes of any\ndescription.\n\nMonarchies of many sorts, aristocracies, oligarchies, democracies, even\ncommunisms, have been tried; and all, save the last, have managed to hold\ntheir own with some degree of success.\n\nIt is easy to bring objections against each form of government, just as\nit is easy to say something specious in its favor.\n\nAre the eldest sons of a few families peculiarly fitted by nature to be\ngovernors of the State? Look at history, and wake up to common sense. Of\nthe divine right of kings I shall not speak, for the adherents of the\ndoctrine are in our day relegated to museums of antiquities. And have the\nmembers of aristocracies been carefully bred with a view to their\nintellectual and moral superiority, as we breed fine varieties of horses\nand dogs? Have those who have had their share in oligarchies been\npeculiarly wise and peculiarly devoted to the common good? The communist\nmakes two fatal mistakes. He shuts his eyes to history, and he overlooks\nthe fact that there is such a thing as human nature.\n\nThere remains democracy. Of this, Herodotus, already quoted as a man of\nsense, has his opinion. He makes a shrewd Persian, in a political crisis,\nthus address his fellow-conspirators:\n\n\"There is nothing so void of understanding, nothing so full of\nwantonness, as the unwieldy rabble. It were folly not to be borne, for\nmen, while seeking to escape the wantonness of a tyrant, to give\nthemselves up to the wantonness of a rude unbridled mob. The tyrant, in\nall his doings, at least knows what he is about, but a mob is altogether\ndevoid of knowledge; for how should there be any knowledge in a rabble,\nuntaught, and with no natural sense of what is right and fit? It rushes\nwildly into state affairs with all the fury of a stream swollen in the\nwinter, and confuses everything. Let the enemies of the Persians be ruled\nby democracies; but let us choose out from the citizens a certain number\nof the worthiest, and put the government into their hands.\" [Footnote:\n_Op. cit._ Book III, chapter lxxxi.]\n\nTo be sure, we, who belong to a modern, enlightened democracy, would\nresent being called \"a rude unbridled mob,\" and being likened to the\npopulace of ancient Persia. But those of us who reflect recognize the\ndangers that lurk in the \"psychology of the crowd\"; and we are all aware\nthat, after a popular vote, it is quite possible to discover that few,\nexcept a handful of office-holders, have gotten anything that they really\nwant. Democracy is not a panacea for all political evils, and there are\ndemocracies of many kinds.\n\nStill, when all is said, it seems as though the Rational Social Will, the\nultimate arbiter of every moral State, should give its authority to a\ndemocratic form of government, rather than to another form. Every\nindividual will has a _prima facie_ claim to recognition.\n\nBut the Rational Social Will can never forget that human nature is in\nprocess of development, and that each nation, at a given time, is a\nhistorical phenomenon. The Rational Social Will is too enlightened to\ndrape an infant in the raiment appropriate to a college graduate. It is\nonly an intemperate enthusiasm that is capable of that.\n\n157. THE LAWS OF THE STATE.--The State allots to individuals, and to the\nlesser groups of human beings, of which it is composed, _rights_,\nand it prescribes to them _duties_. Upon its activities in this\nsphere I can touch only by way of illustration, and for the sake of\nmaking clear the nature of the functions of the State.\n\n(1) To whom shall the State grant a share in the formulation and\nexecution of its laws? Once, in communities very enlightened, in their\nown peculiar way, women, children, slaves, mechanics, petty traders, and\nhired servants were deemed quite unfit to be entrusted with such\nresponsibilities. [Footnote: See ARISTOTLE'S _Politics_.]\n\nWith us, the position of woman has changed. Slavery, in a technical\nsense, has been abolished. The mechanic and the petty trader are much in\nevidence at \"primaries.\" Hired servants are by some accused of being\ntyrants. Children, and defectives who are grossly and palpably defective,\nwe bar from elections, and we also reject some criminals.\n\nThe times have changed, and our notions of the right of the individual to\nan active share in the State have changed with them. The expression of\nthe social will has undergone modification, and I think we can say that\nit is, on the whole, modification in the right direction.\n\nTo be sure, the court of last resort is the _Rational_ Social Will.\nWhat is best for the State, and, hence, for those who compose it? What is\npracticable in the actual condition in which a given state finds itself\nat a given time? It seems too easy a solution of our problems to seek\ndogmatic answers to our questionings by having recourse to the \"natural\nlight,\" that ready oracle of the philosopher, Descartes.\n\n(2) There are certain classes of rights which civilized states generally\nguarantee to their citizens with varying degrees of success. They make it\nthe duty of their citizens to respect these rights in others.\n\n(a) The laws protect life and limb. Much progress has been made in this\nrespect in the last centuries past. I own no coat of mail; and, when I\nwalk abroad, I neither carry a sword nor surround myself with armed\nretainers.\n\n(b) They protect private property. To be sure, the \"promoter\" may prey\nupon my simplicity; and the state itself does not recognize that I have\nany absolute right to my property, any more than it recognizes that I\nhave an absolute right to my life.\n\nIt may send me into the trenches. It may take from me what it will in the\nform of taxes. It may even forbid me to increase my income by using my\nproperty in ways which will make me insupportable to my neighbors. But it\nwill not allow my neighbor, who is stronger than I, to take possession of\nmy house without form of law. It will even allow me to dispose of my\nproperty by will, after my death.\n\nI suggest that those, to whom this right appears to be rooted in the very\nnature of things, and not to be a creation of the State, called into\nbeing at the behest of the social will in a certain stage of its\ndevelopment, should read and re-read what Sir Henry Maine has to say\nabout testamentary succession, in his wonderful little book on \"Ancient\nLaw.\" [Footnote: See chapters vi and vii.]\n\nThe State has not always treated a man as an individual, directly and\npersonally responsible to the state. It has treated him as a member of a\nfamily or some other group; a being endowed, by virtue of his position,\nwith certain rights, and burdened with certain duties. A being who, when\nhe drops out of being, is automatically replaced by someone else who is\nclothed upon with both his rights and his responsibilities.\n\nOur conceptions have changed. The lesser groups within the State have to\nsome degree lost their cohesion, and the bond between the individual, as\nsuch, and the state has been correspondingly strengthened. But many\ntraces of the old conception make themselves apparent. The law compels me\nto provide for my wife and children; and, if I die intestate, the law by\nno means assumes that my property is left without a claimant.\n\nHave we been moving in the right direction, as judged by the standard of\nthe Rational Social Will? We think so. But it is well to bear in mind\nwhat Herodotus said about the madness of Cambyses, and the prejudice men\nhave in favor of their own customs. No state is a mere aggregate of\nunrelated individuals. Men are set in families, and the State seems to be\ncomposed of groups within groups. How far the State should recognize the\nwill of the individual, as over against the claims of the lesser groups\nto which he may belong, is a nice question for the Rational Social Will\nto settle.\n\n(c) The law must regulate marriage and divorce. Matters so vital to the\ninterests of society cannot be left at the mercy of the egoistic whims of\nthe individual. But to what law shall we have recourse? It seems highly\nirrational to have forty-eight independent authorities upon this subject\nwithin the limits of a single nation. And, if we turn the matter over to\nthe churches, we discover that we have committed it to the care of one\nhundred and eighty, or more, sects. Add to this, that a state of any sort\ncannot be set upon its feet without some difficulty, while any\nenterprising man or woman can call a sect into existence any day. There\nis a new adherent for sectarian eccentricities born every minute. Surely,\nhere is a field for the activities of the Rational Social Will.\n\n(d) To paternalism of some sort the modern State, as law-giver, seems\nhopelessly pledged. If we ignore this we are simply closing our eyes. The\nState seems to be justified in educating its citizens, in protecting\nchildren and women against exploitation, in protecting the working\nclasses, in stamping out infectious diseases. We are not even allowed to\nexpectorate when and where we will, a privilege enjoyed by the merest\nsavage.\n\n(e) In one respect the paternalism of our own State has lagged behind\nthat of certain others. We do little to secure to a man a decent privacy,\nor to safeguard his personal dignity. The newspaper reporter is allowed\nto rage unchecked, to unearth scandals in private families, and to cause\ngreat pain by printing the names of individuals.\n\nI have known, in Europe, a man, after a difference of opinion touching\nthe ventilation of a railway carriage, to break a window with his elbow\nand to apply to his fellow-passenger an offensive epithet. The court made\nhim pay a dollar and a half for breaking the window and six dollars for\ngiving himself the pleasure of being insulting.\n\nWhich was the greater offense? Herodotus would expect this question to be\nanswered in accordance with the prejudices of the person giving the\nanswer.\n\n158. THE RIGHTS AND DUTIES OF THE STATE.--The State evidently has rights\nover its citizens, and may enforce these rights through the infliction of\npunishment. It as evidently has duties. A given state may not be\nanswerable to any actual given power. Our own State is in such a position\nat the present time--there is no other state strong enough to call it to\naccount.\n\nBut this does not free it from duties. No state is anything more than a\nbrute force, except as it incorporates, in some measure, the Rational\nSocial Will. And states that fall far short, as judged by this standard,\nmay overstep their rights and ignore their duties, whether they are\ndealing with individuals or with other states.\n\nIn punishing, the State should punish rationally. [Footnote: See chapter\nxxxii, Sec 148.] And it should not demand of its subjects what will degrade\nthem as moral beings. \"We all recognize,\" said a pure and candid soul,\n\"that a rightful sovereign may command his subjects to do what is wrong,\nand that it is then their duty to disobey him.\" [Footnote: Sidgwick,\n_Methods of Ethics_, III, vi.]\n\nBut how discover what demands are just? It is the whole argument of this\nvolume that no man should venture an opinion upon this subject without\nhaving come to some appreciation of what is meant by the Rational Social\nWill. Man, his instincts, the degree of his intelligence and self-\ncontrol, the history of the development of human societies, cannot be\nignored. It is the weakness of good men, endowed with a high degree of\nspeculative intelligence, to construct Utopias, and to tabulate the\n\"rights of man,\" or, as Bentham well expressed it, to make lists of\n\"anarchical fallacies.\" [Footnote: See _Works_, Bowring's Edition,\nVolume II.] Thus, some may, with Plato and Aristotle, advocate\ninfanticide. The Greek city-state was a crowded little affair, and in\ndanger of over-population. Some may propose radical measures to increase\nthe population. To France and Argentina, in our day, such an increase\nappears highly desirable. May any and every method be embraced which\nseems adapted to avert a given evil or to attain to a desired end? It is\ninstructive to note that Francis Galton, the father of \"eugenics,\"\nproposed to leave morals out of the question as \"involving too many\nhopeless difficulties.\" [Footnote: Encyclopedia Britannica, 11th edition,\narticle, \"Sociology.\"] But do men live well who leave morals out of the\nquestion?\n\nThe man who falls back upon intuition alone, in his advocacy of the\nabolition of capital punishment, may be expected to maintain next that a\nstate, in going to war, should stop short at the point where the lives of\nits citizens are put in jeopardy. Why kill a good man, when it is wrong\nto kill a bad one?\n\nIt must be admitted that the State and its representatives enjoy some\nrights and duties not accorded to individuals. The State may condemn men\nto death or to imprisonment; it may take over property; it may make\nitself a compulsory arbiter between individuals. On the other hand, its\nrepresentatives are not always as free as are private persons. The\nindividual, if he is a generous soul, may freely forego some of his\nadvantages and may seek only a fair fight with an opponent. It is\ndoubtful whether the duty the State owes to its citizens permits of\nchivalry. Certainly strong states do not hesitate to attack weak ones;\nnor do many hesitate to combine against one, on the score of fair play.\nAnd a private man may temper justice with mercy in ways forbidden to a\njudge.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXV\n\nINTERNATIONAL ETHICS\n\n\n159. WHAT IS MEANT BY THE TERM.--I am almost tempted to avoid the\ndiscussion of this thorny subject by simply referring the reader to what\nhas been said already on \"The Spread of the Community,\" and developed in\nthe chapters on \"The Rational Social Will\" and \"The Individual and the\nSocial Will.\" [Footnote: See Sec 75 and chapters xxi-xxii.]\n\nHe who confines himself to generalities avoids many difficulties and can\nassure himself of the approval of many. Who, condemns justice and\nhumanity in the abstract? Who can wax eloquent in his condemnation of\nfreedom? Who finds the Christian Church on his side, when he advocates\nrapacity and the oppression of the helpless, without entering into\ndetails?\n\nOn the other hand, who wishes to view his country with a cold\nimpartiality, and to place its interests exactly on a par with the\ninterests of other lands? Who, save the Chinaman himself, thinks it as\nimportant that a Chinaman should have enough to eat as that an American\nor an Englishman should? Was not the turpitude, that excluded the\nChinaman from Australia, traced to the two deadly sins of undue diligence\nand sobriety? [Footnote: Encyclopedia Britannica, 11th edition, article,\n\"Australia.\"] As for freedom, men of certain nations regard it as the\nhighest virtue to be willing to die for it--their own freedom, be it\nunderstood,--while they regard the same desire for freedom on the part of\ntheir colonists as a moral obliquity to be extirpated, root and branch.\n\nThat the historian and the sociologist should find much to say touching\nthe relation of nations to each other and to subject peoples goes without\nsaying. But the cynic may maintain with some plausibility that the\nmoralist's chapter on International Ethics must be as void of content as\nthe traditional chapter on \"Snakes in Ireland.\" In this the cynic is\nwrong, as usual; but it is instructive to listen to him, if only that we\nmay intelligently refute him.\n\nIt is not always easy for an individual to determine just what he owes to\nhis family, to his neighbors, or to his country. Is it surprising that it\nshould be difficult for men to determine just what one country, or what\none race, owes to another? This is the subject of international ethics.\nHe who treads upon this ground should walk gingerly, and not feel too\nsure of himself. But there is no reason why the moralist should not put\nupon paper such reflections as occur to him. He cannot say anything more\ndevoid of reason than much that is said by others.\n\nThe great Grotius, in writing on international law, in the seventeenth\ncentury, drew his illustrations chiefly from Greeks and Romans long dead.\nHe had much more recent material ready to hand. But he well knew that he,\nwho would induce another to give him calm and dispassionate attention,\nmust not begin by treading on the toes of his listener. I shall strive to\nprofit by his example. It is best to say only what each man can apply to\nhis neighbor. We are all sensitive in this field.\n\n160. OUR METHOD OF APPROACH TO THE SUBJECT--We have seen (Sec 80) that\nrational elements are to be found even in the irrational will, if one\nwill look below the surface.\n\nIs it rational for the mother to place before all else the interests of\nthe hairless, toothless and, apparently, mindless little creature that\nshe clasps to her breast? The very existence of society depends upon her\nhaving the feeling that prompts her to do it. Is it rational to favor\none's neighbor, to be proud of one's native town, which may be a poor\nsort of a town? Is it rational to be patriotic, even when one's state is\nnot much of a state?\n\nWe have seen that the Rational Social Will incorporates itself in\nsocieties very gradually, and that it draws into its service lesser\ngroups of many descriptions. He who detaches himself from these lesser\ngroups is not a man. He is the mere outline of a man--the \"featherless\nbiped\" of the philosopher. It is not of such that a state can be made.\n\nIt is the duty of the state to prevent a man from shrinking into being\nthe mere member of some lesser group, but it is not its duty to\nobliterate what is human in him. And the Rational Social Will must see to\nit that he does not, on the other hand, forget, in a blind and irrational\npatriotism, that he is a human being with a capacity for human\nsympathies--sympathies extending far beyond the limits of any state.\nExcept when they are under the influence of strong passion, I think we\nmay say that men in civilized states, at least, have already shown\nthemselves amenable to the influence of the Rational Social Will in this\ndirection. It must be confessed that that influence has, as yet, been\nlimited.\n\nThe approach to the subject of international ethics must lie in the\nrecognition that men are set in families, in neighborhoods, in towns or\ncities, in states; and are yet human beings with a capacity for\nrespecting and loving those who belong to none of these particular\norganizations. My advice to the man who wishes to abuse his fellow-man is\nto do it quickly, and before he is acquainted with him. If he gets to\nknow him well, he will probably find something lovable in him, and he\nwill lose the pleasure of being malicious.\n\n161. SOME PROBLEMS OF INTERNATIONAL ETHICS.--The man who reads history\nfinds, sometimes, things to inspire him; and sometimes, things that are\ndepressing. He sees that the family must expand into the clan, that the\nclan must come into contact with others, that the state must rise, and\nthat some interrelation of states is an inevitable necessity. He sees\nthat man's increase in insight, in diligence, in enterprise, must make\nhim reach out and trade with his fellow-man.\n\nHe sees also conquest, with the subjugation of peoples; he sees trade\nextended by force, and under the smoke of cannon; he sees a peaceful\neconomic penetration, which ends in protectorates and annexations, in\ndefiance of the will of those who do not want to be either protected or\nannexed.\n\nWhat is rational is real, and what is real is rational, said Hegel.\n[Footnote: _The Philosophy of Right_, Preface, and see Sec Sec 351 and\n347.] He further maintained that civilized nations may treat as\nbarbarians peoples who are behind them in the \"essential elements of the\nstate\"; and also that, in a given epoch, a given nation is dominant, and\n\"other existing nations are void of right.\"\n\nHegel has long been dead, and is turned to dust. He always was as dry as\ndust, even when he was alive, but he was a great man. But the famous\nEnglishman, Sir Thomas More, wrote more engagingly; and does he not tell\nus, in his \"Utopia,\" that any nation's holding unused a piece of ground\nneeded for the nourishment of other people is a just cause of war?\n\nSuch doctrines should be most comforting to us Americans. They appear to\nteach us that we are, at present, the chosen people; that the rights of\nother peoples are as the rights of the Hivites, the Hittites, and all the\nrest; that we are justified in taking what we please, for who is there to\nwithstand us?\n\nYet ethical Americans shake their heads over such philosophies, and some\nof them even speak slightingly of philosophers. This, in spite of the\nfact that great men seldom talk pure nonsense, except when carried away\nby excitement, as all men may be, at times. If what they say sounds to us\nwholly unmeaning, it is probable that we have not fully understood the\nvoice that speaks within them. What can be said in their defense? and\nwhat can be said in, at least, partial defence of the actual historical\nprocedure of the nations? They have not been wholly composed of\ncriminals, and they must possess at least the rudiments of a moral sense.\n\n(1) We have seen that the state maintains its right as against those who\nbelong to it by controlling, not by destroying, the lesser groups which\nexist within the state. Such a control appears to be demanded by the\nRational Social Will, but it often frustrates the will of the individual.\n\n(2) We have seen that the spread of the community is inevitable, and\nthat, in the interests of rationality, it is desirable.\n\n(3) We have seen that, even in the family, all the members are not\nequally free agents. The small boy is not consulted touching the amount\nof his punishment, nor can he dictate where it shall be laid on. And the\nstate does not give to all the individuals in it equal political rights,\nnor guarantee to them an equal share of influence. This is desirable, on\nthe whole, in the interests of the whole, but grave abuses may easily\ncome into being.\n\n(4) We have seen that the greater whole guarantees to individuals rights,\nand assigns to them duties. In so far as it is rational, it cannot do\nthis arbitrarily. To have recourse to metaphysical abstractions is\nfutile. Shall we say, without hedging, that a man has a right to the\nfruits of his labor, or that first occupation gives a right to the soil?\nThen, shall the man who is too weak to work be refused a right to the\nownership of a coat? Or must the discoverer of a continent prove a real\noccupancy, by performing the ridiculous task of the abnormal center of\nthe mythical mathematical infinite circle, by being everywhere at the\nsame time?\n\n(5) We have seen that the human community, taking the words in a broad\nsense, will spread, and already has spread, beyond the limits of several\nnationalities. It is in the interest of human society that it should do\nso. It is rational, in the sense of the word everywhere used in this\nbook. But the nations continue to exist, and they often cultivate\nselfishly national interests. So do families cultivate selfishly family\ninterests. So does the egoist selfishly dig about and fertilize the\nnumber One.\n\n(6) It requires little acuteness to see that some communities of men are\nmiserable exponents of the social will. They are deplorably governed.\nRead Slatin's fascinating book, \"Fire and Sword in the Soudan,\"--it is\nbetter than any novel,--and ask yourself what becomes of the social will\nor of rationality of any sort under the rule of a Mahdi. Is it not the\nduty of the nations to combine and to relieve suffering humanity?\n\n(7) There are theorists who maintain that, in the nature of things, the\nsoil belongs to nobody. We find, in the actual state of things, it\nusually belongs to somebody, unless it is so poor that it is not worth\nowning at all. But it may belong to somebody who can make little more use\nof it than an infant can of a gold watch. A handful of Indians, wandering\nover a great tract of country in which they chase game in the intervals\nof time during which they chase and scalp one another, may have an\nimmemorial, although unrecorded, title to the land.\n\nShall they be permitted to keep back settlers from more or less civilized\nand densely populated countries? Settlers eager to cultivate the land and\nto make it support many, where before it supported few, and supported\nthose few miserably?\n\nAnd shall the natural resources of great regions of the earth be\npermitted to lie fallow merely because the actual inhabitants are too\nignorant and too indolent to want to produce anything and to trade? He\nwho finds his happiness in idleness, bananas, and black wives who can be\nbeaten with impunity, has little interest in international traffic, with\nsuch blessings as it is supposed to bring.\n\nThe world is filling up. The losses due to war and pestilence, said no\nless an authority than Darwin, are soon made up. There is something\nterrifying in what the very modern science of geography has to tell us\nabout the rapidity with which the remaining part of the earth's surface,\navailable for the nourishment of man, is being exhausted. What problems\nwill face the Rational Social Will in the none too distant future?\n\n162. THE OTHER SIDE OF THE SHIELD.--We have seen that something can be\nsaid for the philosopher. The Rational Social Will does not appear to\ngive carte blanche to the man who wishes to remain ignorant, idle, cut\noff from the family of the nations, the possessor of great tracts of land\nwhich he will not develop, the cruel oppressor of such as he finds within\nhis power. It tends to deal with him, wherever it finds him, as an\nenlightened nation treats the idle, the vicious and the irresponsible\nwithin its own borders.\n\nUndoubtedly civilization has made some advance in the course of the\ncenturies. When the world is at peace, the stranger is not normally an\noutlaw. I have sojourned in the cities of many of the nations of Europe\nand have made excursions into Africa and Asia. Nowhere have I been\ncompelled to ask for the protection of an American consul. It has been\nrecognized that I had rights, although an American. And the ability to\nsign my name has procured me a supply of money.\n\nNotwithstanding all this, it is depressing to read of the dealings of the\nnations with each other, and with backward peoples--who have been well\ndefined as peoples who possess gold-mines, but no efficient navy. Is it\nnot generally taken for granted that it is the duty of more powerful and\nmore enlightened nations to take the backward nations in hand, to exploit\ntheir resources, and, incidentally, to exploit _them_?\n\nNot that international law has not counted for something. To be sure\nHegel reduced it to the level of \"a good intention,\" [Footnote: _The\nPhilosophy of Right_, Sec Sec 330-333.] but it has counted for something.\nDescartes and Spinoza could, with impunity, be heretics in little\nHolland. Switzerland has for centuries been the refuge of the oppressed.\nBut we cannot forget that our highest authority, Captain Mahan, declared,\nin 1889, that certain rights of neutrals were \"forever secured,\"\n[Footnote: _The Influence of Sea Power upon History_, Boston, 1908,\nchapter ii, p. 84.] and he has since stood revealed as a false prophet, a\nmere man making a guess. International law is a capital thing--when it is\nnot put under a strain, and when no nation is too powerful.\n\nThe depressing thing is that rapacity and oppression become glorified,\nwhen the cloak of patriotism is thrown over their shoulders. I drew my\nillustrations in the last section from wild Indians and from African\nsavages. But there are nations in all stages of their development. How\n\"backward\" must a nation be to give us the right to rule over it by\nforce? No people were more ingenious than the ancient Romans in finding\nplausible reasons for the wars which it pleased them to wage. This has\nnever been a lost art. Men's enemies are, like the absent, always in the\nwrong; and those are apt to become enemies, in whose defeat some\nsubstantial advantage is to be looked for.\n\n163. THE SOLUTION.--The very title seems a presumption. Who may dogmatize\nin matters so involved? I make no pretentions to giving a clear vision of\n\"yonder shining light,\" but I venture to hint at the general direction in\nwhich one is to seek the little wicket gate.\n\nThe only ethical solution of our problem appears to lie in the frank\nrecognition of the fact that the groups of men, called nations, may be as\nbrutal egoists as are individual persons, and in the earnest attempt to\navoid the baleful influence of such egoism.\n\nMan _is_ his brother's keeper. But that does not give him the right\nto keep his brother in chains, nor to use him for selfish ends. This is\nas true of nations as it is of individuals, of families, of religious\norders, or of unions, whether of employers or of employees.\n\nIt is certainly true of nations. It is only as having a place in, and as\nbeing an instrument of, the great organism of humanity aimed at by the\nRational Social Will, that the individual, the family, the tribe, the\nnation, have any ethical justification for being at all. Sometimes it is\nvery profitable for the individual, or for some group of human beings, to\ndisallow this obligation to be moral. We treat the individual as a\nrobber; why not admit that there are robber nations?\n\nI feel like reiterating that it is a great thing to be young; to live in\nthat Golden Age in which one still believes what one sees in print, and\nstill is moved by the honeyed words of statesmen. When one is old, and\nhas enjoyed some breadth of culture, one has read the newspapers of many\nlands, and has met a certain number of statesmen, usually with a start of\nsurprise.\n\nIt is borne in upon one--a matter touched upon in the last chapter--that\nit appears to be generally accepted that the state and its\nrepresentatives may adopt a peculiar variety of ethics. Certainly\nstatesmen feel justified in doing for their country what they, as\ngentlemen, would never dream of doing for themselves. They talk of\njustice, when they would scoff at such justice within the borders of\ntheir own states; they talk of humanity, and they have in mind the\neconomic advantage of their own peoples; they speak of protection and\nChristianization, when they mean economic exploitation or strategic\nsuperiority. As for truth, the less said about that subject the better.\n\nI know of only one way in which the determination of a nation to aid in\nthe general realization of the Rational Social Will can be tested. Does\nit, in dealing with other nations, civilized or backward, propose what is\npalpably to its own advantage, or is it evidently disinterested? It is\nthus that we judge a man, when we wish to fix his ethical status; it is\nthus that the Rational Social Will judges a nation. The language in which\nthe proposals are made is a matter of no moment. It may fairly be called\nprofessional slang, and can quickly be acquired, even by men of mediocre\nintelligence, in any diplomatic circle.\n\n164. THE NECESSITY FOR CAUTION.--Shall a man, then, eschew patriotism,\nand become a citizen of the world, as though he were a Stoic philosopher?\nBy no means. As well eschew the family or the neighborhood. But let him\nnot, in his patriotism, forget that he is a man. Here, as everywhere, he\nis called upon to exercise judgment. This is a burden which he can never\nthrow off. He must pay the penalty of being a rational human being. As an\ninstrument of the Rational Social Will the state must be kept up. It is\nhis duty to see that it is done. His cat has an easier task; she may\nsleep her life away in peace.\n\nWe hear much of the brotherhood of man and of artificial barriers. The\nbarriers are not all artificial, and they cannot be swept away with a\ngesture.\n\nRaces and peoples are formed upon the model of their own immemorial past.\nThey have their institutions, their traditions, their loyalties, their\nstandards of living. What is tolerable to one man is wholly intolerable\nto another. To compel men to live together in intimacy, when centuries of\ntraining have made them antipathetic, is sheer cruelty.\n\nMen may be brothers, but there are big brothers and little brothers. I do\nnot refer to physical bulk. I refer to the development of intelligence,\nto the degree and kind of culture, which has been attained. There are\nlittle brothers still at the stage of development at which it is natural\nfor human beings to drool. Shall we have them sit up to the table and\nserve them with the complete dinner, enlivening it with intellectual\nconversation?\n\nBetween incontinently doing this, and relegating the little brothers to a\nnursery where they will be treated with cruelty and starved in our\ninterests, some persons seem to think there is no middle course. In their\nenthusiasm for humanity, they forget that the brotherhood of man may be\nmade as ridiculous as the eight-hour day. Between eight hours of the\ncreative work of a Milton and eight hours of the dawdling done by a lazy\nhousemaid, there is no relation save that both may be measured by a\nclock.\n\nThese enthusiasts forget much. Men are not alike; they do not want to be\nalike; they do not want to live together in close intimacy, when they\nhave little in common; they reverence different things; as a rule, they\nwould rather be somewhat unhappy after their own fashion, than be happy\nunder compulsion, after the fashion of someone else.\n\nWe have, thus, on the one hand, the enthusiasts who would at once sound\nthe trump and announce the millenium, feeding the lion and the sucking\ncalf out of the same dish and on the same meat. We have, on the other,\nthose who are eager to take on their shoulders the white man's burden--to\nenclose in a coop, as if they were chickens, the greater part of the\nhuman race, allaying the discontent of the imprisoned by pointing out to\nthem that, although their freedom of movement is limited, they are\ngrowing fat, and that they should show their gratitude by laying eggs.\n\nSurely, there must be some middle course. Patience and caution are\nvirtues. Surely, it is possible to accept the existing organism of\nsociety, to love one's country, and yet to strive to respect the freedom\nof others. It is not easy for a true patriot to do this, but it seems to\nbe what the Rational Social Will demands of him.\n\nThe moralist who reads history carefully is not wholly discouraged. He\nmay look forward to some time, in the more or less distant future, when\nthere may be a union of the nations in the interests of all men; when the\ngross egoism of the hypertrophied patriot may be curbed; when the\nmellifluous language of the statesman may mean more than did the pious\nletter which Nero wrote to the Roman Senate, after he had murdered his\nmother.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVI\n\nETHICS AND OTHER DISCIPLINES\n\n\n165. SCIENCES THAT CONCERN THE MORALIST.--There are certain sciences that\nthe Moralist must lay under contribution very directly, and yet he seems\nto be able to make little return to those who cultivate them, at least in\ntheir professional capacity.\n\nHe must ask aid from the biologist, the psychologist, the anthropologist.\nThey help him to a comprehension of what man is; and, hence, of what it\nis desirable that man should strive to do. But these men seldom come to\nthe moralist for advice. They appear to be able to work without his help.\n\nThere are, however, other sciences in which the moralist feels that he\nhas more of a right to meddle, however independent they may regard\nthemselves.\n\nTake, for example, politics or economics, or the very modern and\nrudimentary science of eugenics. The man who cultivates political science\nmay know much more than do most moralists about states and their forms of\norganization; about legislative, executive and judicial functions; about\nthe probable effects of the centralization or decentralization of\nauthority; about what may be expected, in a given case, from a\nrestriction or extension of the franchise; about the creation and\nmaintenance of a military establishment and the building up of an\nefficient civil service. The economist may be a monster of learning and a\nmaster in ingenuity on all problems touching the creation and\ndistribution of wealth.\n\nBut the political scientist and the economist, however able, share our\ncommon humanity. A man's outlook is more or less apt to be bounded by the\nlimits of the science of his predilection. The several sciences, broader\nor more specialized, rest, in the minds of most men, upon foundations\nwhich are taken for granted. It is too much to expect that every sermon\nshould begin as far back as the Garden of Eden. \"Practical\" politics and\neconomics do not, as a rule, go so far back.\n\nThe transition from practical politics and economics to ethical problems\nmay be made at any time. No man was shrewder than Machiavelli, and the\nmoral sense of mankind has rebelled against him and made him a byword. A\nstate, desirous of maintaining itself, may palpably violate in its\ninstitutions, inherited from the past, a social will grown more rational,\nmore conscious of its rights and more articulate. Then the appeal is made\nto right and justice in other than the traditional forms. It may, in a\ngiven instance, be wrong to create wealth; existing forms of its\ndistribution may be iniquitous. The ultimate arbiter in all such matters\nmust be the Ethical Man.\n\nHuman society is indefinitely complex. Many specialists must occupy\nthemselves with its problems. A technical question in this field may\nalways be carried over to moral ground. He who undertakes to make this\ntransition without having made a fairly thorough study of ethics appears\nto be working in the dark. His assumptions have been questioned, or have\nbeen abandoned. Who shall furnish him with a new basis for his special\nscience?\n\nEthics is a basal science. It justifies, or it refuses to justify, those\nspecialists who concern themselves with men in societies. It is a very\nold science and has interested men vastly. I have spoken above of\neugenics as a new science. Only in its modern form is it new. Plato\ncultivated it intemperately when he wrote his \"Republic\"--but he saw that\nhis \"Republic\" would not do, and he wrote his \"Laws.\" He stood condemned\nby Ethics.\n\nUsually men who occupy themselves seriously, and in a broad way, with man\nin society, have adopted, consciously or unconsciously, some ethical\ndoctrine. But this is often done without due consideration, and without a\nsufficient knowledge of what has been said by the great thinkers of the\npast. It is for this reason that I have treated at such length in this\nvolume of the schools of the moralists.\n\n166. ETHICS AND PHILOSOPHY.--It should be observed that in developing the\nEthics of the Rational Social Will, or the Ethics of Reason--the doctrine\nadvocated in this volume--I have not depended upon a particular\nphilosophy.\n\nI see no reason why a Realist or an Idealist, a Monist or a Dualist, one\nwho holds to an immediate perception of an external world or one who\nregards our acquaintance with it as a matter of inference, should refuse\nto go with me so far. Nor do I see any reason why a believer in God, one\nwho bows at the shrine of Mind-Stuff, or one who refuses to commit\nhimself at all upon such matters, should enter a demurrer. The\nParallelist and the Interactionist, however widely they differ touching\nthe relation of mind and body, may here fall upon one another's necks and\nshed tears of brotherly affection.\n\nThat it is proper for the philosopher to interest himself in ethics, I\nhave maintained. [Footnote: See chapter vi, Sec 18.] He is supposed to be a\ncritical and reflective man, and to take broad views of human affairs.\nSuch views are needed when one comes to the study of ethics.\n\nI am forced to admit that some philosophers, when they have written on\nethical subjects, have said certain things to which the critical moralist\ncannot readily assent. He who maintains that certain human intuitions--\nwhich it may even appear impossible to reconcile with each other--are\ninexplicably and infallibly authoritative, seems to leave us without so\nmuch as the hope of ever attaining to ultimate rationality. [Footnote:\nSee chapter xxiii.]\n\nAnd there are philosophers who would persuade us that, unless we accept\nall the religious or theological doctrines which have appeared to them\nacceptable, we rob man of every incentive for being moral at all. If God\nis not going to repay him with interest for the pains which he gives\nhimself, does he not play the part of a dupe in being good? We have seen\nthat this was palpably the position of Paley. [Footnote: Chapter xxiv, Sec\n96.] If God will not reconcile, ultimately, benevolence and self-\ninterest, proclaimed Reid, man \"is reduced to this miserable dilemma,\nwhether it is best to be a fool or a knave.\" [Footnote: _Essays on the\nActive Powers of Man_, Essay III, Part III, chapter viii. It would be\nabsurd to believe that either Paley or Reid lived down to the level of\nhis doctrine. Both were very decent men, and capable of\ndisinterestedness.] Some of the utterances of Kant and of Green seem to\npoint in the same direction, but both have made it abundantly plain that\nthey, personally, and whatever their intellectual perplexities, were\nmoved by something much higher than egoism. [Footnote: See chapters xxiv,\nSec 97; xxvi, 3; and xxix.]\n\nI mean to say very little about philosophy in this volume. I wish to keep\nto ethics, a science old enough and strong enough to stand upon its own\nfeet. But it would be wrong not to underline one or two points in this\nconnection, if only to obviate misunderstanding:\n\n(1) There is nothing wrong in a man's wishing to earn the heaven in which\nhe believes. It is not wrong for him to wish to be happy on earth and in\nthe body. But if the desire for his own happiness, either here or\nhereafter, is the _only_ motive that can move him, he is not a good\nman. Prudence may be a virtue, generally speaking; but it is no\nsubstitute for benevolence. The man who is _only_ prudent is no fit\nmember of any society of rational beings anywhere.\n\n(2) Men are often better than their words would indicate. Paley talks as\nif he were a cad; Reid flounders; Kant, noble as are many of his\nutterances, sometimes gives forth an uncertain sound. Yet no one of these\nmen was personally selfish.\n\nAnd yet all of these men assumed that morality is endangered unless there\nis a God to repay men for being good. Why did they insist so strenuously\nupon this, and incorporate it into their philosophy? We must, I think, go\nbeneath the surface to find the real reason; and when we have discovered\nit, we cannot regard them in an unfavorable light.\n\nThey felt, I believe, that good men _ought_ to be made happy; that\nthis is rational, if anything is. So far, they are quite in accord with\nthe doctrine of the Rational Social Will. And they saw no other way of\nguaranteeing a complete rationality than in holding to a theistic\nphilosophy.\n\n(3) This means that their real motives were not selfish and personal.\nThis is admirably brought out when we turn to Green. It is too much to\nexpect that many of my readers have read his \"Prolegomena to Ethics,\"\nwhich is repetitious, tedious, and rather vague, though it is inspired by\na fine spirit and has the great merit of having influenced, directly or\nindirectly, a number of able writers to produce excellent works on\nethics. [Footnote: I need only to refer to the text-books by Muirhead,\nMackenzie, Dewey and Fite.]\n\nGreen dwells, with infinite repetition, upon the presence in man \"of a\nprinciple not natural,\" which is identical in all men, and which, in\nsome way that he does not explain, holds the world of our experiences\ntogether, being itself not in time or in space. The disciple of Paley or\nReid or Kant will search his pages in vain for any indication that this\n\"principle\" performs or can perform any of the functions of the God\nbelieved in by the above-mentioned philosophers. Nevertheless, it is the\nsource of an ardent inspiration to Green, who relieves the baldness of\nthe appellation \"principle,\" by calling it, sometimes, \"self-\nconsciousness,\" sometimes, \"reason.\" It does not appear to promise Green\nanything, so his devotion to it may be regarded as disinterested.\nHowever, he owes to it inspiration.\n\nPhilosophers find their inspiration in very different directions. The\nphilosopher, as such, sometimes rather objects to the word, \"God.\"\n[Footnote: See chapter xxvi, Sec 123, note.] But he may feel much as men\ngenerally feel toward God, when he contemplates his \"Conscious\nPrinciple,\" or his \"Idea,\" or the \"Substance\" which he conceives as the\nidentity of thought and extension, or, for that matter, \"Mind-Stuff\" or\nthe \"Unknowable.\" That other men may not see that he has anything in\nparticular to be inspired about, or that he can hope for anything in\nparticular for himself or for other men, does not rob him of his\ninspiration, and that may affect his life deeply.\n\nIt is, hence, not a matter of no importance to ethics what manner of\nphilosophy it pleases a man to elect. One's outlook upon the great world\nmay repress or may stimulate ethical strivings, may narrow or may broaden\nthe ethical horizon. It is something to feel, even rather blindly, that\none has a Cause. For myself, I think it is better to have a Cause that\nseems worth while, even when rather impartially looked at. But, of this,\nmore in the next section.\n\n(4) Whatever one thinks of such matters, it is well to come back to the\nfact that, nevertheless, ethics stands upon its own feet. Even if Paley,\nand Reid, and Kant, and Green, and many others, are in the wrong, the\ndoctrine of the Rational Social Will stands sure. It is wrong to be\nselfish; it is wrong to be untruthful; it is wrong to be unjust. It is\nwrong for individuals, and it is wrong for nations. The man, or the group\nof men, that does wrong, is irrational. It stands condemned.\n\n167. ETHICS AND RELIGION.--I regret having to speak, in this book, about\nreligion at all, just as I regret having to refer to the philosophers.\nBut it would be folly to omit all reference to religious duties. They\nhave played quite too important a part in the life of the family, of the\ntribe, of the state; and that not merely here and there, but everywhere,\nin societies of all degrees of development, in recent centuries and in\ntimes of a hoary antiquity. Those interested in the classics have read\nthe remarkable little book, \"The Ancient City,\" by Fustel de Coulanges.\nAs schoolboys we were brought up on the pious Aeneas. All Christians have\nsome knowledge of the theocratic state of the Hebrews, and we know\nsomething of the history of Christian Europe. The anthropologist gives us\nmasses of information touching the religious duties of all sorts and\nconditions of men.\n\nThere are those who rid themselves easily of the problem of religious\nduties. They simply deny that there are any. And there are those--the\nclasses overlap--who easily shuffle off duties to the family and to the\nstate. They regard it as their function to ignore and to destroy.\n\n(1) I cannot think the matter is so simple. There always have been\nreligious duties generally recognized, as a matter of fact. The boldest\nand most gifted of thinkers, who have not hesitated to call into being\nUtopian schemes for an ideal state, such men as Plato and More, have\nthought that the ideal state must have a religion. And the modern\nscientist has gravely raised the question whether the state can maintain\nitself, if all religious beliefs, with their inspirations and their\nrestraints, die out. [Footnote: McDougall, _Social Psychology_,\nchapter xiii.]\n\nThe moralist, who accepts religious duties, has a difficult task. It is\nnot enough for him to say that men have religious duties \"in general,\"\njust as it is not enough for him to say that they have political duties\n\"in general.\" On the other hand it would be the height of presumption for\nhim to endeavor to tell every man what he should do in detail. He does\nnot feel it his duty to tell every man whom he should marry, or for whom\nhe should vote at each election. Still, it does seem as though the\nmoralist ought to do more than tell a man vaguely that he has religious\nduties.\n\n(2) Why not follow the analogy suggested by duties to the family, the\nneighborhood, the state?\n\nStates have their religions, sometimes unequivocally and unmistakably,\nand sometimes not so palpably. The religion of a people has, as a rule,\nits roots far back in the history of that people. Its religion has\ninfluenced in many subtle ways its institutions, its emotions, its\nhabits, its whole outlook upon life.\n\nEven where, as with us, state and church have been, in theory, wholly\nsundered, there has been no question, up to the present, of the\ndisappearance of a religion. The United States has been regarded as a\nChristian nation, inspired by ideals and addicted to customs only\nexplicable by a Christian past.\n\nThe fact that it is so is somewhat obscured to us. For this there are two\ncauses. The first is, that the American, who is a freeman, possesses and\nexercises a fatal ingenuity in the creation of a multitude of sects out\nof practically nothing. Still, most of these sects have more in common\nthan some of their adherents suppose. They spring, as a rule, from a\nChristian root. The second is, that our land has been the goal of the\ngreatest migration ever recorded in human history. Most of those who have\ncome to us have, so far, come from nations in some sense Christian, but\nthey have brought with them very diverse traditions, and some appear to\nobject to traditions altogether.\n\nNevertheless, I think we may be called a Christian nation, and if we\nfollow the analogy above suggested--that of the relations of men to the\nstate and to lesser organisms within the state--it would appear that it\nis the duty of an American to recognize himself as a Christian rather\nthan as a Mahometan or a Pagan. If he does recognize this, he will feel\nhimself under certain obligations which are independent of his personal\ntastes and proclivities.\n\n(3) For one thing, he will recognize that a religion is not a thing to be\nstripped off and drawn on as one changes a suit of clothes.\n\nA woman may regret that her infant has red hair. She will not, on that\naccount, as a rule, exchange him surreptitiously for another. Men do not\ncommonly repudiate their fathers because they are not rich or are growing\nold. A good citizen may regret that his country has seen fit to enter\ninto a given war, but he will not, therefore, give aid or comfort to the\nenemy.\n\nHe who is capable of lightly repudiating his religion resembles the man\nwho is capable of discarding his wife, when he sees the first grey hair.\nThose who do such things are apt to be men who fill their whole field of\nvision with their rights, and can find no place there for their duties.\nNor should it be overlooked that the man, who is capable of lightly\ndiscarding his wife, is the man as capable of supplying her place with a\nworse. Even so, he who easily throws off his religion is usually the man\nwho easily replaces it with some superstition, scientific or merely\nwhimsical, at which other men wonder.\n\nMen lament sometimes over the fact that the task of the foreign\nmissionary is a hard one. Were it really an easy one, there would be no\nstability in human societies, for there would be no stability in human\nnature. The man of light credulity is the man who easily takes on new\nfaiths; not the man to whom tradition and loyalty mean something.\n\n(4) It seems to follow, as a corollary, that the religion in which a man\nhas been brought up has the first claim upon him. I accept this without\nhesitation.\n\nBut this does not mean that the claim is in all cases final and valid.\n\nThere may be cases in which it seems to be the duty of a man to leave his\nwife, to disinherit a child, to transfer his allegiance from one state to\nanother. Such cases are recognized as justifiable by men who are\nthoughtful and disinterested. But the same men also recognize that, were\nsuch disruptions of the bonds which unite men in communities the rule and\nnot the exception, it would mean the destruction of the community.\nSimilarly, it may become the duty of a man to transfer his allegiance\nfrom one church to another.\n\nAre not religions, rationally compared, of different values? Have there\nnot been religions indisputably on a moral level lower than that of the\ncommunity which they represent? Undoubtedly.\n\nAnd there have been governments so bad that the only refuge has seemed to\nlie in revolution. It should be remembered, however, that revolutions can\nbe resorted to too lightly; and that evolution, where possible, is\npreferable to revolution, whether in things secular or in things\nreligious. It is always easier to tear down than it is to build up. Nor\ndoes anyone, save the anarchist, tear down through wanton love of\ndestruction. Even he is apt to feel called upon to give some sort of a\nvague excuse for his violence.\n\nIt will be observed that I have all along spoken, not merely of religion,\nbut of the Church. I have done this because religion is a social\nphenomenon. It has its institutions, and cannot live without them.\n\nIt cannot be denied that individual philosophers have evolved religious\nphilosophies; it cannot be denied that solitary individuals, as such,\nhave felt religious emotions. How much of this is due to the fact that\nthere have been religions and churches, I do not believe that they\nthemselves have realized.\n\nBut, if religion is to be a vital force of any sort in a state, holding\nup ideals and stimulating the emotion that helps to realize them, it must\nbe incorporated in an institution or in institutions. You cannot remove\nthe rose and keep the perfume. Even the memory of it tends to vanish. A\nreligious man without a church is like a citizen without a state. A\ncitizen without a state is a man who makes the effort to keep step, and\nto walk in single file, all alone.\n\n(5) Having said so much for Religion and for the Church, it is right that\nI should refer to some things that may be said on the other side.\n\nIt may be claimed that men of science have a tendency to turn away from\nreligion and to grow indifferent to or to deny religious duties. In this\nthere is some truth, although notable exceptions to the rule may be\ncited.\n\nBut I have known many men of learning in two hemispheres, in some cases\nrather intimately. With the utmost respect for their learning and for\ntheir mental ability, I am still bound to say that I have found them\nquite human. Some of them--among the greatest of them--have been so\nabsorbed in their special fields of investigation, that they have not\nmerely given scant attention to religion and to religious duties, but\nhave done scant justice even to their own family life or to the state.\nAnd all have not been equally broad men, capable of seeing clearly the\npart which religion has played in the life of humanity.\n\nTo this I must add that the impartial objectivity with which the scholar\nis supposed by the layman to view things is something of a chimera. In\nsaying this I criticize no one more severely than I criticize myself.\nThis may be taken as my apology for the utterance. Have we not seen, not\nmany years since, that, in the feeling aroused by an international\nconflict, some scores of great scholars on the one side found it possible\nto write and to sign a series of statements diametrically opposed to a\nseries drawn up and signed by some scores of equally famous scholars on\nthe other? Was either group walled in hopelessly by sheer ignorance? It\nis easy to take lightly matters about which one does not particularly\ncare.\n\nThere is another objection brought against religion and the church which\nseems to be more significant. Is there not a danger that an interest in\nthese may hamper freedom of thought and encourage an undue conservatism?\n\nIt should be borne in mind that religion and the church are not the only\nforces that make for conservatism. Family affection is conservative; the\nlaw is conservatism itself, and men feel that it should not be lightly\ntampered with. How impartial and how ready to introduce innovations\nshould men be in any field? Changes of certain kinds, though they may\nhave no little bearing upon our comfort, do not threaten the existence of\neither state or church. Could someone devise a scheme by which the\nperiodical visits of the plumber could be avoided, we should all welcome\nit, and have no fear of the consequences.\n\nOther innovations may bring in their train consequences more momentous.\nWhat men deeply care about, they cling to, and the question which\nconfronts us is a very broad one. Does humanity, on the whole, gain or\nlose by a given degree of conservatism? An increase of knowledge is by no\nmeans the only thing that makes for civilization. Men may be highly\nenlightened, and yet rotten to the very core. How much of the ballast of\nconservatism and of loyalty to tradition is it well to throw overboard in\nthe interest of accelerated motion? Those who, in our judgment, throw\noverboard much too much we have taken to deporting.\n\n(6) Here it will very likely be objected: In all this you are advocating\nsheer Pragmatism! Are we to accept God and look for a life to come,\nextending the spread of the community after the fashion suggested in\nChapter XIX, and broadening the outlook for a future and more perfect\nrationality, for no better reason than that it is our whim? Shall we\n_believe_ and join ourselves with other _believers_, for no\nbetter reason than that something happens to tempt our will?\n\nI beg the reader, if he will be just to my thought, to follow me here\nwith close attention.\n\n168. ETHICS AND BELIEF.--Under this heading I must call attention to\nseveral points.\n\n(1) I deny that I advocate Pragmatism at all. The views which I advocate\nare so many thousand years older than Pragmatism, that it seems unjust to\nthem, at this late date, to compel them to take on a new name, and to be\ncarried about in swaddling clothes in the arms of the philosophers, after\nthey have been functioning as adults in human communities from time\nimmemorial.\n\n(a) That abounding genius and most lovable man, William James, realizing,\nas many lesser men did not realize, that the truth contained in such\nviews was in danger of being lost sight of by many, wrote, with\ncharacteristic vivacity and unerring dramatic instinct, the little volume\ncalled \"Pragmatism.\" It is with no lack of appreciation of the services\nhe has rendered, that I venture to call attention to the fact that he\nhas, in certain respects, failed to do justice to those views.\n\n(b) Pragmatism has received attention partly on account of the\nexaggerations of which it has been guilty. These have repelled some men\nof sober mind. It appears to be maintained that we can play fast and\nloose with the world, and make it what we will. I have criticized this\nelsewhere,9 and shall not do so now. I shall only say here that I do not\nbelieve that so able a man of science as William James meant all that he\nsaid to be taken quite literally. He was gifted with a sense of humor.\nThis, some lack.\n\n(c) Men of genius are apt to be strongly individualistic and impatient of\nrestraints. We have seen that there is such a thing as a public\nconscience and a private conscience. The latter is only too often a\nwhimsical thing. Pragmatism appears to teach that any individual, as\nsuch, has a moral right to adopt any hypothesis live enough to appeal to\nhis individual will. One has only to call to mind the extraordinary\nassortment of guests collected by Signer Papini in his novel pragmatic\n\"hotel.\" [Footnote: _Ibid_.] Can such, by any human ingenuity, be\nmoulded into anything resembling an orderly community?\n\n(d) In a later work, Professor James, realizing that religion and\ntheology are not identical, and strongly desirous of promoting religion,\ndeals severely with theology and the theologians. [Footnote: _Varieties\nof Religious Experience_, Lecture xviii.]\n\nOne truth has been seen, but has not another been treated with some\ninjustice? Is it not inevitable that reflective men, who cherish beliefs,\nshould endeavor to give a more or less clear and reasoned account of\nthem? What degree of success is to be looked for, and what emphasis\nshould be laid upon such attempts, are questions which will probably\ndivide men for a long time to come.\n\n(2) Hence, I do not advocate Pragmatism at all, but I agree with it in so\nfar, at least, as to recognize that belief is a phenomenon which concerns\nthe will. That it is so is a commonplace of psychology; and it was\nrecognized dimly long before the psychologist, as such, came into being.\n\nThat it is so is rather readily overlooked where the evidence for certain\nbeliefs is undeniable and overpowering. I seem forced to believe that I\nam now writing. I do not seem forced in a similar manner to accept a\nparticular metaphysical doctrine or a given system of theological dogma.\nIntelligent men appear to be able to discuss such matters with each other\nand to agree to disagree. If they are tolerant, they can do this good-\ntemperedly. It is worth while to keep several points clearly in mind:\n\n(a) Beliefs are not a matter of indifference. Some evidently lead to\npalpable and speedy disaster. If I elect to believe that I can fly, and\nleave my window-sill as lightly as does the sparrow I now see there, it\nis time for my friends to provide me with an attendant.\n\nOther beliefs are not of this character. And that they will lead to\nultimate disaster of any sort to myself or to others seems highly\ndisputable.\n\n(b) What may be called scientific evidence may be adduced for different\nbeliefs with varying degrees of cogency. Hegel tries to distinguish\nbetween the authority of the state and that of the church by attributing\nto the former something like infallibility. He maintains that religion\n\"believes,\" but that the state \"knows.\" [Footnote: The Philosophy of\nRight, Sec 270.]\n\nWe have had abundant reason to see that the state does not _know_,\nbut _believes_, and that it is very often mistaken in its beliefs.\nNevertheless, it does its best to keep order, to be as rational as it\ncan, and to look a little way ahead. I think it ought to be admitted that\nit concerns itself with matters more _terre-a-terre_ than does the\nchurch; and that it ought not to be taken as a general truth that the\nstate should take its orders from the church. It has to do with matters\nwhich, like our daily bread, must be assured, if certain other matters\nare to be considered at all. In so far Hegel was right. There are those\nwho forget this, and talk as if metaphysical systems and religious\nbeliefs should be forced upon men in spite of themselves, either by sheer\nforce of windpower or with the aid of the police.\n\nTo this it may be added that beliefs range from an unshakable and\nunthinking conviction to that degree of acquiescence which can scarcely\nbe distinguished from mere loyalty. It remains to be proved that the\nlatter may not come under the head of belief, and is something to be\ncondemned. [Footnote: More than thirty years ago, while I was the guest\nof Henry Sidgwick at Cambridge, England, I asked him how it was that he,\nthe President of the British Society for Psychical Research, had never,\nin his presidential addresses, expressed a belief in the phenomena\ninvestigated. He answered that if the word \"belief\" were taken broadly\nenough to express a willingness to look into things, he might be said to\nbelieve. No more candid soul ever breathed.]\n\n(c) Beliefs, being phenomena which concern the will, are at the mercy of\nmany influences. Is there any scientific evidence open to the parallelist\nin psychology which is not also open to the interactionist? Is the\nconviction that one's country is in the right a mere matter of scientific\nevidence? Are the enlightened adherents of a given sect wholly ignorant\nof the tenets and of the arguments of another?\n\nI maintain that tradition and loyalty have their claims. They are not the\nonly claims that can be made, but they are worthy of serious\nconsideration. Man is man, whether he is dealing with things secular or\nwith things religious.\n\nTo see that such claims are recognized everywhere we have only to open\nour eyes. It is absurd to believe that all the adherents of a political\nparty are influenced only by the logical arguments published in the\nnewspapers. A newspaper that lived on logic alone would starve to death.\nIt is ridiculous to believe that all the members of a church are induced\nto become such only by the arguments of the theologians, many of which\narguments the mass of the members are not in a position to comprehend at\nall.\n\nAnd learned men are men, too. The philosopher who really kept himself\nfree from all prepossessions would, if he did much serious reading,\nprobably epitomize in his own person a large part of the history of\nphilosophy, falling out of one system and into another, like an acrobat.\nBut he is usually caught young and influenced by some teacher, or he is\ncarried away by some book or by the spirit of the times. As he is not an\nabnormal creature, he acts like other men, becoming an adherent of a\nschool, or, if he is ambitious, starting one.\n\n(d) We have seen that the individual has duties toward the state. We have\nalso seen that the state has duties toward the individual. The state\nshould not make it practically impossible for him to be a loyal citizen.\nA somewhat similar duty appears to be incumbent upon the church.\n\nA church that forces upon all of its members, as a condition of\nmembership, intricate and abstract systems of metaphysics; a church that\ndoes not teach good-will toward men, but makes walls of separation out of\nslight differences of opinion; a church that lags behind the moral sense\nof the community in which it finds itself; a church that starves the\nreligious life; these, and such as these, must expect to lose adherents.\nIt is not that men reject them; it is that they reject men.\n\nThose who read history have no reason to think that men, except here and\nthere and under exceptional circumstances, will cease to regard religious\nduties as duties. I have not ventured to offer any detailed solution of\nthe problem of loyalty to the church. But neither have I ventured to\noffer any detailed solution of the problem of loyalty to the state. In\nthe one case, as in the other, I suggest as guides tradition, intuition\nand reflective reasoning. I can only counsel good sense and some degree\nof patience. It may be said: You do not solve the difficulty for the\nindividual. I admit it. Such difficulties every thinking man must meet\nand solve for himself.\n\n169. THE LAST WORD.--Those persons, whether students, or teachers, who\ndislike this final chapter, may omit it, without detriment to the rest of\nthe book. The doctrine of the Rational Social Will is not founded upon\nthis chapter. The latter is a mere appendix.\n\nI regret that, in a work in which I have wished to avoid disputation, I\nhave felt compelled to touch upon religious duties at all. But they have\nplayed, and still play, so significant a role in the history of mankind,\nthat the omission could scarcely have been made. You are free to take\nthem or leave them; but you are not free to take or leave the Rational\nSocial Will as the Moral Arbiter of the Destinies of Man.\n\n\n\n\nNOTES\n\n\n1. CHAPTERS I TO III.--The notes in a book of any sort are rarely read,\nexcept by a few specialists, and by them not seldom with a view to\nrefuting the author. I shall make the following as brief as I may. But I\ndo wish to give some of my readers--all will not be equally learned--an\nopportunity to get acquainted with a few books better than this one. This\nfirst note is not addressed to the learned, and some will find it\nsuperfluous.\n\nI intend to mention here a handful of books which any cultivated man may\nread with profit, and re-read with profit, if he has already read them.\nThey can be collected gradually at a relatively slight expense, and it is\na pleasure to have them in one's library. The list may easily be\nbettered, and may be indefinitely lengthened. I mention only books for\nthose who are accustomed to do their reading in English.\n\nIt is hardly necessary to say that I do not advise all this reading in\nconnection with the first three chapters of this book. But, as those\nchapters are concerned with the accepted content of morals as recognized\nby individuals and communities, I have a good excuse for bringing the\nlist in here. Many other good books, not in the list, are referred to\nlater in the volume, in other chapters.\n\nIt is very convenient to have within one's reach some such book as\nSidgwick's _History of Ethics_. The only fault to find with Sidgwick\nis that he has made his book too short, and has not given enough\nreferences. But he is admirably fair and sympathetic, as well as clear\nand interesting.\n\nHe, who would dip more deeply into the Greek moralists, can read the\naccounts of the ancient egoists, Aristippus and Epicurus, in the _Lives\nof the Philosophers_ by that entertaining old gossip, Diogenes\nLaertius. The translation in Bohn's edition will serve the purpose.\n\nAs for the greatest of the Greeks--a keen pleasure, intellectual and\naesthetic, awaits the man who turns to Plato's _Republic_ and his\n_Laws_. Jowett's great translation is in every public library. And\nwe must read Aristotle's _Nichomachean Ethics_ and his _Politics_.\nHere little attention is given to artistic form; but the preternatural\nacuteness of the man is overpowering. If we would understand some\nof the reasons which induced Plato and Aristotle to write of the state\nas they did, we can turn to chapter xiv of Grote's _Aristotle_.\n\nWith certain later classical moralists most of us are more or less\nfamiliar. Seneca, in his work _On Benefits_, gives a good picture of\nthe moral emotions and judgments of an enlightened man of his time. He\nwas a great favorite with Christian writers later. Cicero's work, _De\nOfficiis--On Duties_--it is best known under the Latin title, is very\nclear and very clever. It is, in its last half, full of \"cases of\nconscience.\" I venture to suggest to the teacher of undergraduates who\nfind ethics a dry subject, that he give them a handful of Cicero's\n\"cases\" to quarrel over. Doing just this has brought about something\nresembling civil war in certain classes of my undergraduates. It has done\nthem good, and it has vastly entertained me. But each teacher must follow\nhis own methods. We can none of us dictate.\n\nHow many of us have drawn inspiration from the noble reflections\ncontained in the _Thoughts_ of Marcus Aurelius and in the\n_Discourses_ of Epictetus, those great Stoics! The unadorned\ntranslations of George Long will serve to introduce us to these.\n\nTo get a good idea of how the moral world revealed itself to a Father of\nthe Church in the fifth century, we have only to turn to that most\nfascinating of autobiographies, the _Confessions_ of St. Augustine.\nHis _City of God_ is too long, though interesting. Augustine's\nthought influenced the world for centuries. Then we may take a long jump\nand come down to St. Thomas, the great Scholastic of the thirteenth\ncentury. To get acquainted with him, we may turn to the English versions\nby Rickaby, _Aquinas Ethicus_. Those of us who are smugly satisfied\nat belonging to the twentieth century must remind ourselves that there\nwere great men in the thirteenth, and that many among our contemporaries\nare still listening to them. We Protestant teachers of philosophy are\nsometimes in danger of forgetting this. A strictly fresh century and a\nstrictly fresh egg cannot claim to be precisely on a par.\n\nI do not think that I shall add the modern moralists to this list. There\nare a great many of them, and many of them are very good. But they are\ndiscussed at length in Part VII, which deals with the schools of the\nmoralists. Citations and references are there given. I think, however,\nthat I ought to add here that I should regard an ethical collection\nincomplete that did not include at least one of the comprehensive works\non morals lately offered us by certain sociologists. Westermarck's\nwonderful book--a mine of information--on _The Origin and Development\nof the Moral Ideas_, or the admirable book by Hobhouse, _Morals in\nEvolution_, will serve to fill the gap.\n\nInformation regarding editions of all the books I have mentioned can be\nhad in most public libraries, or from any good publisher and book-seller.\n\nAs for the reading to accompany these Chapters, I-III, I suggest looking\nover the chapters by Westermarck and Hobhouse, indicated in foot-notes.\nHe who would realize how men have differed in their moral outlook on life\nmight read the lives of Aristippus, Epicurus and Zeno, in Diogenes\nLaertius; or follow the account, in Sidgwick's _History of Ethics_,\nof Aristotle's teaching, as compared with the ethics of the Church.\n\n2. Chapters IV to VII.--These chapters on ethics as science and on\nethical method do not appear to me to call for extensive notes. Several\nfoot-notes are given which might be followed up. I think it would be a\nvery good thing for the student to read chapters i and vi in Sidgwick's\nadmirable work, The _Methods of Ethics_.\n\n3. Chapters VIII to X.--To undertake to give any adequate list of\nreferences on the chapters which treat of man's nature and of his\nmaterial and social environment would take us quite too far afield. I\nmerely suggest looking up the articles on \"Anthropology\" and \"Sociology\"\nin the _Encyclopedia Britannica._ References are given there. And\none should not overlook Darwin's great book on _The Descent of Man_.\nIt will never be rendered superfluous, although the men of our day\ncriticize it in detail. A recent work of value is \"Heredity and\nEnvironment in the Development of Men,\" by Professor Edwin Grant Conklin,\n1918.\n\n4. Chapters XI to XVI.--Here my notes must be somewhat more detailed, for\nwe are on quite debatable ground. At any rate, there is much dispute,\nbetween men of unquestionable ability, on the one side and on the other.\nI may be pardoned for thinking that the general argument of these\nchapters is reasonable and sound.\n\nIn commenting upon Chapter XI, I suggest that the reader look up what\nHobhouse has to say on impulse, desire and will, in his volume, _Morals\nin Evolution_; also that he consult the same topics in James'\n_Psychology_. McDougall's _Social Psychology_ might be read\nwith much profit.\n\nSome admirable writers have a repugnance to using the word \"volition\" in\nspeaking of the brutes. I cannot help thinking that this is a dispute\ntouching the proper use of a word, rather than that any important\ndistinction in _kind_ is marked. Some human volitions stand out very\nclearly as such. There are free ideas present, there is the tension of\ndesires, there is deliberation, and there is clearly conscious choice, or\nthe final release of tension. But how many of the decisions--I see no\nobjection to the word,--which we make during the course of a day, are of\nthis character! It would be difficult to set a lower limit to volition.\n\nMuirhead, who writes, in his _Elements of Ethics_, clearly and well\nof desires, emphasizing the presence of \"tensions,\" follows the Neo-\nHegelian tradition in speaking of will. He describes it as the act by\nwhich the attention is concentrated upon one object of desire, and he\ncalls the act of choice the _identifying of oneself_ with one object\nor line of action.\n\nNaturally, it is not easy to think of the bee or the ant or the spider,\nperhaps not even of the cat or dog, as \"identifying itself\" with some\nobject of desire. I suggest that the reader, after a perusal of Muirhead,\nreflect upon what Hobhouse has to say of the lower animals; or that he\nlook up Miss Washburn's book on _The Animal Mind_, (second edition,\n1918), where a really serious study of the brute is undertaken.\n\nOn Chapter XII, I find no comment necessary. As to Chapter XIII, I\nrecommend to the reader a reading or re-reading of the fascinating pages\nin which James treats of instinct in his _Psychology_. And let him\nlook up the same subject in McDougall's _Social Psychology_. At the\nsame time, I enter a note of warning against reading even such good\nwriters uncritically. There is no little dispute in this field. Dr. H. R.\nMarshall's volume _Mind and Conduct_ gives an unusually thoughtful\naccount of instinct (N. Y., 1919).\n\nComment on Chapter XIV is not imperatively necessary. But I must speak\nwith detail of Chapter XV, for the best of men quarrel when they come\nupon this ground:\n\nSec 49. The psychologist takes into his mouth no word more ambiguous than\n\"feeling.\" It may be used to indicate any mental content whatever--John\nStuart Mill could speak of consciousness as composed of a string of\nfeelings. Herbert Spencer divided conscious processes into \"feelings\" and\n\"relations between feelings.\" James obliterates the distinction, and\nfinds it possible to speak of \"a feeling of _and_, a feeling of\n_if_, a feeling of _but_,\" etc. (_Psychology_ I, p. 154,\nff.).\n\nSome writers do not distinguish between emotions and feelings. Thus,\nDarwin, in his _Descent of Man_, calls pleasure and pain \"emotions.\"\nMarshall (_op. cit._, chapter ii) makes emotions, and even\nintuitions, \"instinct-feelings.\" Dewey, in his _Ethics_ (p. 251),\nappears to treat emotions as synonymous with feelings. Gardiner, in his\ninteresting and careful study, _Affective Psychology in Ancient Writers\nafter Aristotle_ (_Psychological Review_. May, 1919), treats of\n\"what are popularly called the feelings, including emotions.\"\n\nOn the other hand, in ethical writings the word, \"feelings,\" very often\nmeans no more than pleasure and pain. Thus, _Seth_ (_A Study of\nEthical Principles_, p. 63), makes feelings synonymous with pleasure\nand pain. Muirhead (_Elements of Ethics_, p. 46), says, \"by feeling\nis meant simply pleasure and pain\"; and to have \"interest\" in, he defines\nas to have pleasure in (p. 46).\n\nThis narrowing of the meaning of the word on the part of ethical writers\nis, perhaps, natural. The hedonistic moralists made pleasure and pain the\nonly ultimate reasonable stimulants to action. Many moralists opposed\nthem (see, later, Chapters XXIV and XXV). So pleasure and pain became\n\"the feelings,\" _par excellence_. Both Dewey and Alexander sometimes\nspeak as if, by the word \"feeling,\" we meant no more than pleasure and\npain. So does Kant.\n\nThe modern psychologist sometimes distinguishes pleasure and pain from\n\"agreeableness\" and \"disagreeableness.\" Marshall, a high authority on\npleasure and pain, refuses to draw the distinction (_op. cit._, Part\nIII. chapter vi). But he also refuses to call pleasure and pain\nsensations, regarding them as \"qualifications of our sensations,\" like\nintensity, duration, and the like.\n\nAre pleasures, as pleasures, alike? and are pains, as pains, alike?\nJeremy Bentham refused to distinguish between kinds of pleasures. On the\nother hand, John Stuart Mill did so (see Chapter XXV in this volume); and\nS. Alexander, in his work entitled _Moral Order and Progress_,\nmaintains that pleasures differ in kind, and cannot be compared merely in\ntheir intensity (see page 202).\n\nThe whole matter is complicated enough, and there is occupation for the\nmost disputatious. But I do not think that these disputes very directly\naffect the argument of my chapter.\n\nSec 50. That there is a relation between feeling and action, but that the\ntwo are by no means nicely adjusted to each other, has been recognized in\nmany quarters.\n\nDarwin, discussing the mental and moral qualities of man, points out that\nthe satisfaction of some fundamental instincts gives little pleasure,\nalthough uneasiness is suffered if they are not satisfied. Seth (_op.\ncit._, p. 64) says that feelings \"guide\" action; and he claims that\nthe energy of a moving idea lies in the feeling which it arouses (p. 70).\nOn the quantity of emotion, and its relation to action, see Stephen, The\nScience of Ethics, ii, iii, 25.\n\nSec 51. It appears to be repugnant to Green to admit that feeling--\npleasure--can be the direct object of action; and he denies roundly that\na sum of pleasures can be made an object of desire and will at all\n(_Prolegomena to Ethics_, Sec 221; see Sec 113 of this book). Moreover,\nhe maintains, and in this Dewey follows him, that the making of pleasure\nan object is evidence of the existence of unhealthy desires. I cannot but\nthink this, taken generally, an exaggeration. Of course, what is called\n\"a man of pleasure\" is a pretty poor sort of a thing.\n\nSec 52. In this section I do not touch at all upon the immemorial dispute\nconcerning what has been called \"the 'freedom' of the will.\"\n\nIndeed, I leave it out of this book altogether. The moralist must, I\nthink, assume that man has natural impulses and is a rational creature.\nThose who are interested in the problem above mentioned, may turn to my\n_Introduction to Philosophy_, chapter xi, Sec 46, where the matter is\ndiscussed, and references (in the corresponding note) are given.\n\nChapter XVI.--The matter of this chapter appears, clear enough, but it\nmay be well to give a few references touching the two conceptions of the\nfunctions of Reason.\n\nMen of quite varying views have inclined to the doctrine which appeals to\nme. I think it is to be gotten out of Hegel. Green, who is much\ninfluenced by him, takes, as the rational end of conduct, a \"satisfaction\non the whole,\" which implies a harmonization and unification of the\ndesires (see, in this book, Chapter XXVI, Sec 122). Spencer, in his\n_Study of Sociology_, defines the rational as the consistent.\nStephen, in his _Science of Ethics_, chapter ii, Sec 3, says: \"Reason,\nin short, whatever its nature, is the faculty which enables us to act\nwith a view to the distant and the future.\" He claims that rationality\ntends to bring about a certain unity or harmony. Hobhouse, _Morals in\nEvolution_, (pp. 572-581), says that reason harmonizes the impulses.\n\nThe champions of the opposite view are the intuitionists proper--such men\nas Kant, Reid, Price, even Sidgwick. To judge of their doctrine--they\nwere great men, be it remembered, and worthy of all respect--I suggest\nthat the reader wait until he has read the chapter on _Intuitionism_\nin this volume, Chapter XXIII.\n\n5. CHAPTERS XVII TO XIX.--What is said in Chapter XVII seems too\nobviously true to need comment. Indeed, it may be questioned whether the\nchapter is not full of platitudes. But even platitudes are overlooked by\nsome; and there is some merit in arranging them systematically. Besides,\nthey may serve as a spring-board.\n\nAs to Chapter XVIII, I suggest reading chapter vii, of Westermarck's book\non _The Origin and Development of the Moral Ideas_. It is entitled\n_Customs and Laws as Expressions of Moral Ideas_.\n\nFor Chapter XIX, one may read Hobhouse, _Morals in Evolution_, Part\nI, chapter vi, where he shows how the mere \"group morality\" gradually\ngives place to a wider morality in which the concept of humanity plays a\npart. In the same work, Part II, chapters i and ii, the author treats of\nreligious or sub-religious ideas as affecting conduct. Compare\nWestermarck, _op. cit._, chapter xl. See, also, _The Ancient\nCity_, by Fustel de Coulanges.\n\n6. CHAPTERS XX TO XXII.--What is said in Chapter XX may be well\nreinforced by turning to Hobhouse (_op. cit._), Part I, chapter iii,\nwhere he traces the gradual evolution of rational morality in the field\nof justice. See, also, Westermarck, (_op. cit._) chapters ix and x,\ni. e., \"The Will as the Subject of Moral Judgment and the Influence of\nExternal Events,\" and \"Agents under Intellectual Disability.\" In the last\nchapter referred to, animals, drunkards, idiots, the insane, etc., come\non the stage. The chapter is full of curious information.\n\nIn Chapter XXI (Sec 86), I have spoken of the hesitating utterances of\nmoralists touching any duties we may owe to the brutes. I suggest that\nbefore anyone dogmatize in detail on this subject he read with some care\nsuch a comprehensive work as Miss Washburn's _The Animal Mind_. The\nbook is admirable. Chapters x and xliv of Westermarck's work are\ninstructive and entertaining on this subject. Hegel disposes of the\nanimals rather summarily. See his _Philosophy of Right_, Sec 47.\nSidgwick, _The Methods of Ethics_, Book III, chapter iv, 2, is well\nworth consulting. See in my own volume, Chapter XXX, Sec 141.\n\nFor Chapter XXII, I give no references. I appeal only to the common sense\nof my reader.\n\n7. Chapters XXIII to XXIX.--For the chapters on the Schools of the\nMoralists, XXIII to XXIX, I shall give briefer notes than I should have\ngiven, were the chapters not already so well provided with foot-notes.\n\nSo far as the first four of these chapters are concerned, I shall assume\nthat enough has been said, drawing attention only to two points which\nconcern Chapter XXIII.\n\nIt is very interesting to note that one of our best critics of\nintuitionism, Hemy Sidgwick, was himself an intuitionist. His _Methods\nof Ethics_ deserves very close attention. Again Intuitions are often\nspoken of as if they had been shot out of a pistol, and had neither\nfather nor mother. To understand them better it is only necessary to read\nchapter viii of Dr. H. R. Marshall's little book, _Mind and\nConduct_, which shows how difficult it is to mark intuitions off\nsharply, and to treat them as if they had nothing in common with reason.\n\nThose interested in the ethics of evolution, treated in Chapter XXVII,\nshould not miss reading the fourth chapter of Darwin's _Descent of\nMan_. Huxley's essay, _Evolution and Ethics_, might be read. The\n\"Prolegomena\" to the essay is, however, much more valuable than the essay\nitself. Spencer's general theory of conduct is best gathered from his\n_Data of Ethics_, which was reprinted as Part I of his _Principles\nof Ethics_. The volume by C. M. Williams, entitled, _A Review of\nEvolutionary Ethics_, gives a convenient account of a dozen or more\nwriters who have treated of ethics from the evolutionary standpoint. It\nis well not to overlook what Sidgwick has to say of evolution and ethics;\nsee _The Methods of Ethics_, Book I, chapter ii, Sec 2.\n\nAs for Chapter XXVIII, on \"Pessimism,\" it is enough, I think, to refer\nthe reader to Book IV, in Schopenhauer's work on _The World as Will and\nIdea_. The Book is entitled _The Assertion and Denial of the Will to\nLive, where Self-consciousness has been Attained_. See also his\nsupplementary chapters, xlvi, on \"The Vanity and Suffering of Life,\" and\nxlviii, \"On the Doctrine of the Denial of the Will to Live.\" For the\ndoctrine of von Hartmann, see chapters xiii to xv, in the part of his\nwork entitled, _The Metaphysic of the Unconscious_.\n\nFor the chapter on Kant, Hegel and Nietzsche, I shall give but a few\nreferences, though the literature on these writers is enormous. The\nEnglish reader will find T. K. Abbott's translation of Kant's ethical\nwritings a very convenient volume (third edition, London, 1883). The\ntranslation of Hegel's _Philosophy of Right_, by S. W. Dyde (1896),\nI have found good, where I have compared it with the original. The word\n\"Right\" in the title is unavoidably ambiguous, for the German word means\nboth \"right\" and \"law.\" Hegel is dealing, in a sense, with both. I have\nindicated, in a foot-note, that Nietzsche ought to be read in the\noriginal. He is a marvellous artist.\n\nPerhaps I should add that Nietzsche will be read with most pleasure by\nthose who do not attempt to find in his works a system of ethics. I\nrecommend to the reader, especially, his three volumes: _The Genealogy\nof Morals_; _Beyond Good and Evil_; and _Thus Spake Zarathustra_;\n(New York, 1911).\n\n8. CHAPTERS XXX TO XXXVI.--I shall not comment on Chapter XXX. It is\nsufficiently interpreted by what has been said earlier in this book. Nor\ndo I think that Chapter XXXI needs to be discussed here. I need only say\nthat many moralists have commented upon the negative aspect of the moral\nlaw. It will be remembered that the \"demon\" of Socrates--a dreadful\ntranslation--was a negative sign. I do not think that those who have\ndwelt upon the negative aspect of morality have reflected sufficiently\nupon the moral organization of society. We are put to school unavoidably\nas soon as we are born.\n\nI shall not dwell upon Chapters XXXII and XXXIII. Here I appeal merely to\nthe good sense of the reader.\n\nBut Chapter XXXIV demands more attention. He who is ignorant of history,\nand has come into no close contact with the organization and functioning\nof any state other than his own, is as unfit to pass judgment upon states\ngenerally, as is the man who has never been away from his native village\nto pass judgment upon towns generally--towns inhabited by various peoples\nand situated in different quarters of the globe. His lot may, it is true,\nhappen to be cast in a good village; but how he is to tell that it is\ngood, I cannot conceive. He has no standard of comparison.\n\nFortunately, his ignorance is not as harmful as it might be. The Rational\nSocial Will, which is penetrated through and through with traditions\nwiser than the whims of the individual, carries him along upon its broad\nbosom, and makes decisions for him.\n\nThe sociologist and the political philosopher should be consulted, as\nwell as the historian, by one who would make a satisfactory list of books\ntouching the subject of this chapter. But the moralist may be allowed to\nsuggest a few titles, some of them very old ones. Plato's _Republic_\nis fascinating, and Aristotle's _Politics_ is the shrewdest of\nbooks. But compare the state as conceived by these men with our notions\nof a modern democracy! More's _Utopia_ is a delight. To get back to\nearth and see what _history_ means to a state, and to its\nconstitution and laws, read Sir Henry Maine's _Ancient Law_. States\nare not made in a day, although, under abnormal conditions, governments\nmay be upset, and new ones set up, within twenty-four hours. After such\nunhistorical proceedings, one can scarcely expect \"fast colors.\" One or\ntwo washings will suffice to show what was there before.\n\nHe who has a weakness for the operatic can peruse Rousseau's _Social\nContract_ and the _Declaration of the Rights of Man_ published in\nthe great French Revolution. As an antidote, I suggest Bentham's essay on\n_Anarchical Fallacies_.\n\nBut reading will do little good--even historical reading--unless one\nalso thinks. It is wonderful how much knowledge a man may escape, if he\nis born under the proper star. I once knew an undergraduate in an\nAmerican university, who attended compulsory chapel for more than three\nyears, and who still thought that the Old Testament was a history of the\nAncient Romans.\n\nThere is quite too much to say about Chapters XXXV and XXXVI. The only\nthing to do is to say nothing. I shall touch upon just one point in each\nchapter. I venture to beg the teacher, when he treats of International\nEthics, to read in class, with his students, those pages in which Sir\nThomas More describes the principles upon which the Utopians conducted\ntheir wars. Remember that Sir Thomas was not merely a statesman, but, by\ncommon consent, a learned, a great, and a good man. Mark the reaction of\nthe undergraduate mind.\n\nThe one matter upon which I shall comment in Chapter XXXVI, is the\nquestion of belief as an object of approval or of censure. Westermarck\nstates (_The Origin and Development of the Moral Ideas_, Volume I,\nchapter viii, p. 216), that neither the Catholic nor the Protestant\nChurch regarded _belief, as such_, as an object of censure. Yet each\nwas willing to punish heresy. The point is most interesting, and I hazard\nan explanation. The churches were organizations with a definite object.\nThey made use of reward and punishment. This was reasonable enough,\nabstractly considered. However, doctrine was the affair of the\ntheologian. Now the theologian, like the philosopher, is a man who\nassumes that he is concerned with _proofs_, and with proofs only. If\na thing is _proved_, how can a man _help_ believing it? Only if\nhe _will_ not, which is sheer obstinacy or perversity. Let him,\nthen, be punished on account of his defective character (see Westermarck,\nI, chapter xi, p. 283).\n\nI think the apparent quibbling here can be gotten rid of by recognizing\nthe truth emphasized in Sec Sec 167-168, namely, that logical proofs play\nbut a subordinate part in the adoption or rejection of beliefs touching a\nvast number of matters both secular and religious. If we can influence\nmen's emotions, we can influence their beliefs. Both State and Church\nhave this power. It is a power that can be abused. But it is, on the\nwhole, a good thing that men's beliefs can thus be influenced. There\nwould be no stability in human society could they not. Every ignorant\nman--and many men are ignorant--would be at the mercy of every clever\ntalker; and he would change his beliefs every day. As men act on beliefs,\nthis means that he would zig-zag through life to the detriment of all\norderly development. I beg the reader, learned or unlearned, to put aside\nprepossessions, and to look at things as they are in this field.","title":"A Handbook of Ethical Theory","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":97902}