is supposed by the hypothesis to regard self so little and others
so much, that he willingly sacrifices his own pleasures to give
pleasures to them. But if this is a universal trait, and if action
is universally congruous with it, we have to conceive each as being
not only a sacrificer but also one who accepts sacrifices. While he
is so unselfish as willingly to yield up the benefit for which he has
labored, he is so selfish as willingly to let others yield up to him
the benefits they have labored for. To make pure altruism possible
for all, each must be at once extremely unegoistic and extremely
egoistic. As a giver, he must have no thought for self; as a receiver,
no thought for others. Evidently, this implies an inconceivable mental
constitution. The sympathy which is so solicitous for others as
willingly to injure self in benefiting them, cannot at the same time
be so regardless of others as to accept benefits which they injure
themselves in giving.
The incongruities that emerge if we assume pure altruism to be
universally practiced, may be otherwise exhibited thus. Suppose that
each, instead of enjoying such pleasures as come to him, or such
consumable appliances to pleasure as he has worked for, or such
occasions for pleasure as reward his efforts, relinquishes these to a
single other, or adds them to a common stock from which others benefit,
what will result? Different answers may be given according as we assume
that there are, or are not, additional influences brought into play.
Suppose there are no additional influences. Then, if each transfers
to another his happiness, or means to happiness, or occasions for
happiness, while some one else does the like to him, the distribution
of happiness is, on the average, unchanged; or if each adds to a common
stock his happiness, or means to happiness, or occasions for happiness,
from which common stock each appropriates his portion, the average
state is still, as before, unchanged. The only obvious effect is that
transactions must be gone through in the redistribution; and loss of
time and labor must result.
Now suppose some additional influence which makes the process
beneficial; what must it be? The totality can be increased only if the
acts of transfer increase the quantity of that which is transferred.
The happiness, or that which brings it, must be greater to one who
derives it from another's efforts than it would have been had his own
efforts procured it; or otherwise, supposing a fund of happiness,
or of that which brings it, has been formed by contributions from
each, then each, in appropriating his share, must find it larger
than it would have been had no such aggregation and dispersion
taken place. To justify belief in such increase two conceivable
assumptions may be made. One is that though the sum of pleasures, or of
pleasure-yielding things, remains the same yet the kind of pleasure,
or of pleasure-yielding things, which each receives in exchange from
another, or from the aggregate of others, is one which he appreciates
more than that for which he labored. But to assume this is to assume
that each labors directly for the thing which he enjoys less, rather
than for the thing which he enjoys more, which is absurd. The other
assumption is that while the exchanged, or redistributed pleasure
of the egoistic kind, remains the same in amount for each, there
is added to it the altruistic pleasure accompanying the exchange.
But this assumption is clearly inadmissible if, as is implied, the
transaction is universal--is one through which each becomes giver and
receiver to equal extents. For if the transfer of pleasures, or of
pleasure-yielding things, from one to another or others, is always
accompanied by the consciousness that there will be received from him
or them an equivalent; there results merely a tacit exchange, either
direct or roundabout. Each becomes altruistic in no greater degree
than is implied by being equitable; and each, having nothing to exalt
his happiness, sympathetically or otherwise, cannot be a source of
sympathetic happiness to others.
§ 90. Thus, when the meanings of its words are inquired into, or
when the necessary implications of its theory are examined, pure
altruism, in whatever form expressed, commits its adherents to various
absurdities.
If "the greatest happiness of the greatest number," or in other words,
"the general happiness," is the proper end of action, then not only
for all public action but for all private action, it must be the end;
because, otherwise, the greater part of action remains unguided.
Consider its fitness for each. If corporate action is to be guided
by the principle, with its interpreting comment, "everybody to count
for one, nobody for more than one," there must be an ignoring of all
differences of character and conduct, merits and demerits, among
citizens, since no discrimination is provided for, and, moreover, since
that in respect of which all are to count alike cannot be happiness
itself, which is indistributable, and since equal sharing of the
concrete means to happiness, besides failing ultimately would fail
proximately to produce the greatest happiness; it results that equal
distribution of the conditions under which happiness may be pursued
is the only tenable meaning: we discover in the principle nothing but
a round-about insistance on equity. If, taking happiness at large as
the aim of private action, the individual is required to judge between
his own happiness and that of others as an impartial spectator would
do, we see that no supposition concerning the spectator save one
which suicidally ascribes partiality to him, can bring out any other
result than that each shall enjoy such happiness, or appropriate such
means to happiness, as his own efforts gain: equity is again the sole
content. When, adopting another method, we consider how the greatest
sum of happiness may be composed, and, recognizing the fact that
equitable egoism will produce a certain sum, ask how pure altruism
is to produce a greater sum; we are shown that if all, exclusively
pursuing altruistic pleasures, are so to produce a greater sum of
pleasures, the implication is that altruistic pleasures, which arise
from sympathy, can exist in the absence of egoistic pleasures with
which there may be sympathy--an impossibility; and another implication
is that if, the necessity for egoistic pleasures being admitted, it
is said that the greatest sum of happiness will be attained if all
individuals are more altruistic than egoistic, it is indirectly said
that as a general truth, representative feelings are stronger than
presentative feelings--another impossibility. Again, the doctrine of
pure altruism assumes that happiness may be to any extent transferred
or redistributed; whereas the fact is that pleasures of one order
cannot be transferred in large measure without results which are fatal
or extremely injurious, and that pleasures of another order cannot be
transferred in any degree. Further, pure altruism presents this fatal
anomaly, that while a right principle of action must be more and more
practiced as men improve, the altruistic principle becomes less and
less practicable as men approach an ideal form, because the sphere for
practicing it continually decreases. Finally its self-destructiveness
is made manifest on observing that for all to adopt it as a principle
of action, which they must do if it is a sound principle, implies that
all are at once extremely unegoistic and extremely egoistic--ready to
injure self for others' benefit, and ready to accept benefit at the
cost of injury to others: traits which cannot co-exist.
The need for a compromise between egoism and altruism is thus made
conspicuous. We are forced to recognize the claims which his own
well-being has on the attention of each by noting how, in some
directions we come to a deadlock, in others to contradictions, and
in others to disastrous results, if they are ignored. Conversely, it
is undeniable that disregard of others by each, carried to a great
extent, is fatal to society, and carried to a still greater extent is
fatal to the family, and eventually to the race. Egoism and altruism
are therefore co-essential.
§ 91. What form is the compromise between egoism and altruism to
assume? how are their respective claims to be satisfied in due degrees?
It is a truth insisted on by moralists and recognized in common life,
that the achievement of individual happiness is not proportionate to
the degree in which individual happiness is made the object of direct
pursuit; but there has not yet become current the belief that, in like
manner, the achievement of general happiness is not proportionate to
the degree in which general happiness is made the object of direct
pursuit. Yet failure of direct pursuit in the last case is more
reasonably to be expected than in the first.
When discussing the relations of means and ends, we saw that as
individual conduct evolves, its principle becomes more and more that
of making fulfillment of means the proximate end, and leaving the
ultimate end, welfare or happiness, to come as a result. And we saw
that when general welfare or happiness is the ultimate end, the same
principle holds even more rigorously; since the ultimate end under its
impersonal form is less determinate than under its personal form, and
the difficulties in the way of achieving it by direct pursuit still
greater. Recognizing, then, the fact that corporate happiness still
more than individual happiness, must be pursued not directly, but
indirectly, the first question for us is--What must be the general
nature of the means through which it is to be achieved.
It is admitted that self-happiness is, in a measure, to be obtained
by furthering the happiness of others. May it not be true that,
conversely, general happiness is to be obtained by furthering
self-happiness? If the well-being of each unit is to be reached partly
through his care for the well-being of the aggregate, is not the
well-being of the aggregate to be reached partly through the care of
each unit for himself? Clearly, our conclusion must be that general
happiness is to be achieved mainly through the adequate pursuit of
their own happiness by individuals; while, reciprocally, the happiness
of individuals are to be achieved in part by their pursuit of the
general happiness.
And this is the conclusion embodied in the progressing ideas and usages
of mankind. This compromise between egoism and altruism has been
slowly establishing itself; and toward recognition of its propriety,
men's actual beliefs, as distinguished from their nominal beliefs,
have been gradually approaching. Social evolution has been bringing
about a state in which the claims of the individual to the proceeds of
his activities, and to such satisfactions as they bring, are more and
more positively asserted; at the same time that insistance on others'
claims, and habitual respect for them have been increasing. Among
the rudest savages personal interests are very vaguely distinguished
from the interests of others. In early stages of civilization the
proportioning of benefits to efforts is extremely rude: slaves and
serfs get for work arbitrary amounts of food and shelter: exchange
being infrequent, there is little to develop the idea of equivalence.
But as civilization advances and status passes into contract there
comes daily experience of the relation between advantages enjoyed
and labor given: the industrial system maintaining, through supply
and demand, a due adjustment of the one to the other. And this growth
of voluntary co-operation, this exchange of services under agreement,
has been necessarily accompanied by decrease of aggressions one upon
another, and increase of sympathy: leading to exchange of services
beyond agreement. That is to say, the more distinct assertions
of individual claims, and more rigorous apportioning of personal
enjoyments to efforts expended, has gone hand in hand with growth of
that negative altruism shown in equitable conduct and that positive
altruism shown in gratuitous aid.
A higher phase of this double change has in our own times become
conspicuous. If, on the one hand, we note the struggles for political
freedom, the contests between labor and capital, the judicial reforms
made to facilitate enforcement of rights, we see that the tendency
still is toward complete appropriation by each of whatever benefits are
due to him, and consequent exclusion of his fellows from such benefits.
On the other hand, if we consider what is meant by the surrender of
power to the masses, the abolition of class-privileges, the efforts
to diffuse knowledge, the agitations to spread temperance, the
multitudinous philanthropic societies; it becomes clear that regard for
the well-being of others is increasing _pari passu_ with the taking of
means to secure personal well-being.
What holds of the relations within each society holds to some extent,
if to a less extent, of the relations between societies. Though,
to maintain national claims, real or imaginary, often of a trivial
kind, the civilized still make war on one another; yet their
several nationalities are more respected than in past ages. Though
by victors portions of territory are taken and money compensations
exacted; yet conquest is not now, as of old, habitually followed
by entire appropriation of territories and enslavement of peoples.
The individualities of societies are in a larger measure preserved.
Meanwhile the altruistic intercourse is greater: aid is rendered on
occasions of disaster by flood, by fire, by famine, or otherwise.
And in international arbitration as lately exemplified, implying the
recognition of claims by one nation upon another, we see a further
progress in this wider altruism. Doubtless there is much to be said
by way of set-off; for in the dealings of the civilized with the
uncivilized little of this progress can be traced. It may be urged that
the primitive rule, "Life for life," has been developed by us into the
rule, "For one life many lives," as in the cases of Bishop Patteson
and Mr. Birch, but then there is the qualifying fact that we do not
torture our prisoners or mutilate them. If it be said that as the
Hebrews thought themselves warranted in seizing the lands God promised
to them, and in some cases exterminating the inhabitants, so we, to
fulfill the "manifest intention of Providence," dispossess inferior
races whenever we want their territories; it may be replied that we do
not kill many more than seems needful, and tolerate the existence of
those who submit. And should any one point out that as Attila, while
conquering or destroying peoples and nations, regarded himself as "the
scourge of God," punishing men for their sins, so we, as represented
by a High Commissioner and a priest he quotes, think ourselves called
on to chastise with rifles and cannon, heathens who practice polygamy;
there is the rejoinder that not even the most ferocious disciple of
the teacher of mercy would carry his vengeance so far as to depopulate
whole territories and erase scores of cities. And when, on the other
hand, we remember that there is an Aborigines Protection Society,
that there are Commissioners in certain colonies appointed to protect
native interests, and that in some cases the lands of natives have been
purchased in ways which, however unfair, have implied some recognition
of their claims; we may say that little as the compromise between
egoism and altruism has progressed in international affairs, it has
still progressed somewhat in the direction indicated.
CHAPTER XIV.
CONCILIATION.
§ 92. As exhibited in the last chapter, the compromise between the
claims of self and the claims of others seems to imply permanent
antagonism between the two. The pursuit by each of his own happiness
while paying due regard to the happiness of his fellows, apparently
necessitates the ever-recurring question--How far must the one end be
sought and how far the other: suggesting, if not discord in the life of
each, still, an absence of complete harmony. This is not the inevitable
inference however.
When, in the _Principles of Sociology_, Part III, the phenomena
of race-maintenance among living things at large were discussed,
that the development of the domestic relations might be the better
understood, it was shown that during evolution there has been going
on a conciliation between the interests of the species, the interests
of the parents, and the interests of the offspring. Proof was given
that as we ascend from the lowest forms of life to the highest,
race-maintenance is achieved with a decreasing sacrifice of life,
alike of young individuals and of adult individuals, and also with a
decreasing sacrifice of parental lives to the lives of offspring. We
saw that, with the progress of civilization, like changes go on among
human beings; and that the highest domestic relations are those in
which the conciliation of welfares within the family becomes greatest,
while the welfare of the society is best subserved. Here it remains to
be shown that a kindred conciliation has been, and is, taking place
between the interests of each citizen and the interests of citizens at
large; tending ever toward a state in which the two become merged in
one, and in which the feelings answering to them respectively, fall
into complete concord.
In the family group, even as we observe it among many inferior
vertebrates, we see that the parental sacrifice, now become so moderate
in amount as to consist with long-continued parental life, is not
accompanied by consciousness of sacrifice; but contrariwise, is made
from a direct desire to make it: the altruistic labors on behalf of
young are carried on in satisfaction of parental instincts. If we
trace these relations up through the grades of mankind, and observe
how largely love rather than obligation prompts the care of children,
we see the conciliation of interests to be such that achievement of
parental happiness coincides with securing the happiness of offspring:
the wish for children among the childless, and the occasional adoption
of children, showing how needful for attainment of certain egoistic
satisfactions are these altruistic activities. And further evolution,
causing along with higher nature diminished fertility, and therefore
smaller burdens on parents, may be expected to bring a state in which,
far more than now, the pleasures of adult life will consist in raising
offspring to perfection while simultaneously furthering the immediate
happiness of offspring.
Now though altruism of a social kind, lacking certain elements of
parental altruism, can never attain the same level, yet it may be
expected to attain a level at which it will be like parental altruism
in spontaneity--a level such that ministration to others' happiness
will become a daily need--a level such that the lower egoistic
satisfactions will be continually subordinated to this higher egoistic
satisfaction, not by any effort to subordinate them, but by the
preference for this higher egoistic satisfaction whenever it can be
obtained.
Let us consider how the development of sympathy, which must advance as
fast as conditions permit, will bring about this state.
§ 93. We have seen that during the evolution of life, pleasures and
pains have necessarily been the incentives to, and deterrents from,
actions which the conditions of existence demanded and negatived. An
implied truth to be here noted is, that faculties which, under given
conditions, yield partly pain and partly pleasure, cannot develop
beyond the limit at which they yield a surplus of pleasure: if beyond
that limit more pain than pleasure results from exercise of them, their
growth must be arrested.
Through sympathy both these forms of feeling are excited. Now a
pleasurable consciousness is aroused on witnessing pleasure; now a
painful consciousness is aroused on witnessing pain. Hence, if beings
around him habitually manifest pleasure and but rarely pain, sympathy
yields to its possessor a surplus of pleasure; while, contrariwise,
if little pleasure is ordinarily witnessed and much pain, sympathy
yields a surplus of pain to its possessor. The average development of
sympathy must, therefore, be regulated by the average manifestations of
pleasure and pain in others. If the life usually led under given social
conditions is such that suffering is daily inflicted, or is daily
displayed by associates, sympathy cannot grow: to assume growth of it
is to assume that the constitution will modify itself in such way as to
increase its pains and therefore depress its energies; and is to ignore
the truth that bearing any kind of pain gradually produces insensibilty
to that pain, or callousness. On the other hand, if the social state
is such that manifestations of pleasure predominate, sympathy will
increase; since sympathetic pleasures, adding to the totality of
pleasures enhancing vitality, conduce to the physical prosperity of the
most sympathetic, and since the pleasures of sympathy exceeding its
pains in all, lead to an exercise of it which strengthens it.
The first implication is one already more than once indicated. We have
seen that along with habitual militancy and under the adapted type
of social organization, sympathy cannot develop to any considerable
height. The destructive activities carried on against external
enemies sear it; the state of feeling maintained causes within the
society itself frequent acts of aggression or cruelty; and further,
the compulsory co-operation characterizing the militant _régime_
necessarily represses sympathy--exists only on condition of an
unsympathetic treatment of some by others.
But even could the militant _régime_ forthwith end, the hinderance to
development of sympathy would still be great. Though cessation of war
would imply increased adaptation of man to social life, and decrease
of sundry evils, yet there would remain much non-adaptation and
much consequent unhappiness. In the first place, that form of nature
which has generated and still generates wars, though by implication
raised to a higher form, would not at once be raised to so high a
form that there would cease all injustices and the pains they cause.
For a considerable period after predatory activities had ended, the
defects of the predatory nature would continue: entailing their slowly
diminishing evils. In the second place, the ill-adjustment of the human
constitution to the pursuits of industrial life, must long persist,
and may be expected to survive in a measure the cessation of wars: the
required modes of activity must remain for innumerable generations in
some degree displeasurable. And in the third place, deficiencies of
self-control such as the improvident show us, as well as those many
failures of conduct due to inadequate foresight of consequences, though
less marked than now, could not fail still to produce suffering.
Nor would even complete adaptation, if limited to disappearance of the
non-adaptations just indicated, remove all sources of those miseries
which, to the extent of their manifestation, check the growth of
sympathy. For while the rate of multiplication continues so to exceed
the rate of mortality as to cause pressure on the means of subsistence,
there must continue to result much unhappiness; either from balked
affections or from overwork and stinted means. Only as fast as
fertility diminishes, which we have seen it must do along with further
mental development (_Principles of Biology_, §§ 367-377), can there go
on such diminution of the labors required for efficiently supporting
self and family, that they will not constitute a displeasurable tax on
the energies.
Gradually then, and only gradually, as these various causes of
unhappiness become less can sympathy become greater. Life would be
intolerable if, while the causes of misery remained as they now are,
all men were not only in a high degree sensitive to the pains, bodily
and mental, felt by those around and expressed in the faces of those
they met, but were unceasingly conscious of the miseries everywhere
being suffered as consequences of war, crime, misconduct, misfortune,
improvidence, incapacity. But, as the molding and re-molding of man
and society into mutual fitness progresses, and as the pains caused by
unfitness decrease, sympathy can increase in presence of the pleasures
that come from fitness. The two changes are indeed so related that
each furthers the other. Such growth of sympathy as conditions permit,
itself aids in lessening pain and augmenting pleasure: and the greater
surplus of pleasure that results makes possible further growth of
sympathy.
§ 94. The extent to which sympathy may develop when the hinderances
are removed, will be better conceived after observing the agencies
through which it is excited, and setting down the reasons for expecting
those agencies to become more efficient. Two factors have to be
considered--the natural language of feeling in the being sympathized
with, and the power of interpreting that language in the being who
sympathizes. We may anticipate development of both.
Movements of the body and facial changes are visible effects of feeling
which, when the feeling is strong, are uncontrollable. When the feeling
is less strong, however, be it sensational or emotional, they may
be wholly or partially repressed; and there is a habit, more or less
constant, of repressing them; this habit being the concomitant of a
nature such that it is often undesirable that others should see what
is felt. So necessary with our existing characters and conditions are
concealments thus prompted, that they have come to form a part of
moral duty; and concealment for its own sake is often insisted upon
as an element in good manners. All this is caused by the prevalence
of feelings at variance with social good--feelings which cannot be
shown without producing discords or estrangements. But in proportion
as the egoistic desires fall more under control of the altruistic, and
there come fewer and slighter impulses of a kind to be reprobated,
the need for keeping guard over facial expression and bodily movement
will decrease, and these will with increasing clearness convey to
spectators the mental state. Nor is this all. Restrained as its use is,
this language of the emotions is at present prevented from growing.
But as fast as the emotions become such that they may be more candidly
displayed, there will go, along with the habit of display, development
of the means of display; so that besides the stronger emotions, the
more delicate shades and smaller degrees of emotion will visibly
exhibit themselves; the emotional language will become at once more
copious, more varied, more definite. And obviously sympathy will be
proportionately facilitated.
An equally important, if not a more important, advance of kindred
nature, is to be anticipated. The vocal signs of sentient states
will simultaneously evolve further. Loudness of tone, pitch of tone,
quality of tone, and change of tone, are severally marks of feeling;
and, combined in different ways and proportions, serve to express
different amounts and kinds of feelings. As elsewhere pointed out,
cadences are the comments of the emotions on the propositions of the
intellect[J]. Not in excited speech only, but in ordinary speech, we
show by ascending and descending intervals, by degrees of deviation
from the medium tone, as well as by place and strength of emphasis,
the kind of sentiency which accompanies the thought expressed. Now the
manifestation of feeling by cadence, like its manifestation by visible
changes, is at present under restraint; the motives for repression act
in the one case as they act in the other. A double effect is produced.
This audible language of feeling is not used up to the limit of its
existing capacity; and it is to a considerable degree misused, so as
to convey other feelings than those which are felt. The result of this
disuse and misuse is to check that evolution which normal use would
cause. We must infer, then, that as moral adaptation progresses, and
there is decreasing need for concealment of the feelings, their vocal
signs will develop much further. Though it is not to be supposed that
cadences will ever convey emotions as exactly as words convey thoughts,
yet it is quite possible that the emotional language of the future may
rise as much above our present emotional language, as our intellectual
language has already risen above the intellectual language of the
lowest races.
A simultaneous increase in the power of interpreting both visible
and audible signs of feeling must be taken into account. Among those
around we see differences both of ability to perceive such signs and
of ability to conceive the implied mental states, and their causes;
here, a stolidity unimpressed by a slight facial change or altered
tone of voice, or else unable to imagine what is felt; and there,
a quick observation and a penetrating intuition, making instantly
comprehensible the state of mind and its origin. If we suppose both
these faculties exalted--both a more delicate perception of the signs
and a strengthened constructive imagination--we shall get some idea of
the deeper and wider sympathy that will hereafter arise. More vivid
representations of the feelings of others, implying ideal excitements
of feelings approaching to real excitements, must imply a greater
likeness between the feelings of the sympathizer and those of the
sympathized with; coming near to identity.
By simultaneous increase of its subjective and objective factors,
sympathy may thus, as the hinderances diminish, rise above that now
shown by the sympathetic as much as in them it has risen above that
which the callous show.
§ 95. What must be the accompanying evolution of conduct? What must the
relations between egoism and altruism become as this form of nature is
neared?
A conclusion drawn in the chapter on the relativity of pleasures and
pains, and there emphasized as one to be borne in mind, must now be
recalled. It was pointed out that, supposing them to be consistent
with continuance of life, there are no activities which may not become
sources of pleasure, if surrounding conditions require persistence
in them. And here it is to be added, as a corollary, that if the
conditions require any class of activities to be relatively great,
there will arise a relatively great pleasure accompanying that class
of activities. What bearing have these general inferences on the
special question before us?
That alike for public welfare and private welfare sympathy is essential
we have seen. We have seen that co-operation and the benefits which it
brings to each and all, become high in proportion as the altruistic,
that is the sympathetic, interests extend. The actions prompted by
fellow-feeling are thus to be counted among those demanded by social
conditions. They are actions which maintenance and further development
of social organization tend ever to increase, and, therefore, actions
with which there will be joined an increasing pleasure. From the laws
of life it must be concluded that unceasing social discipline will
so mold human nature that eventually sympathetic pleasures will be
spontaneously pursued to the fullest extent advantageous to each and
all. The scope for altruistic activities will not exceed the desire for
altruistic satisfactions.
In natures thus constituted, though the altruistic gratifications
must remain in a transfigured sense egoistic, yet they will not be
egoistically pursued--will not be pursued from egoistic motives.
Though pleasure will be gained by giving pleasure, yet the thought of
the sympathetic pleasure to be gained will not occupy consciousness,
but only the thought of the pleasure given. To a great extent this
is so now. In the truly sympathetic, attention is so absorbed with
the proximate end, others' happiness, that there is none given to the
prospective self-happiness which may ultimately result. An analogy will
make the relation clear.
A miser accumulates money, not deliberately saying to himself, "I
shall by doing this get the delight which possession gives." He thinks
only of the money and the means of getting it, and he experiences
incidentally the pleasure that comes from possession. Owning property
is that which he revels in imagining, and not the feeling which
owning property will cause. Similarly, one who is sympathetic in the
highest sense, is mentally engaged solely in representing pleasure
as experienced by another, and pursues it for the benefit of that
other, forgetting any participation he will have in it. Subjectively
considered, then, the conciliation of egoism and altruism will
eventually become such that though the altruistic pleasure, as being a
part of the consciousness of one who experiences it, can never be other
than egoistic, it will not be consciously egoistic.
Let us now ask what must happen in a society composed of persons
constituted in this manner.
§ 96. The opportunities for that postponement of self to others which
constitutes altruism as ordinarily conceived, must, in several ways, be
more and more limited as the highest state is approached.
Extensive demands on the benevolent presuppose much unhappiness.
Before there can be many and large calls on some for efforts on
behalf of others, there must be many others in conditions needing
help--in conditions of comparative misery. But, as we have seen
above, the development of fellow-feeling can go on only as fast
as misery decreases. Sympathy can reach its full height only when
there have ceased to be frequent occasions for anything like serious
self-sacrifice.
Change the point of view, and this truth presents itself under another
aspect. We have already seen that with the progress of adaptation
each becomes so constituted that he cannot be helped without in some
way arresting a pleasurable activity. There cannot be a beneficial
interference between faculty and function when the two are adjusted.
Consequently, in proportion as mankind approach complete adjustment
of their natures to social needs, there must be fewer and smaller
opportunities for giving aid.
Yet again, as was pointed out in the last chapter, the sympathy which
prompts efforts for others' welfare must be pained by self-injury on
the part of others; and must, therefore, cause aversion to accept
benefits derived from their self-injuries. What is to be inferred?
While each, when occasion offers, is ready, anxious even, to surrender
egoistic satisfactions; others, similarly natured, cannot but resist
the surrender. If any one, proposing to treat himself more hardly than
a disinterested spectator would direct, refrains from appropriating
that which is due; others, caring for him if he will not care for
himself, must necessarily insist that he shall appropriate it. General
altruism then, in its developed form, must inevitably resist individual
excesses of altruism. The relation at present familiar to us will be
inverted, and instead of each maintaining his own claims, others will
maintain his claims for him: not, indeed, by active efforts, which will
be needless, but by passively resisting any undue yielding up of them.
There is nothing in such behavior which is not even now to be traced
in our daily experiences as beginning. In business transactions among
honorable men there is usually a desire on either side that the other
shall treat himself fairly. Not unfrequently there is a refusal to
take something regarded as the other's due, but which the other offers
to give up. In social intercourse, too, the cases are common in which
those who would surrender their shares of pleasure are not permitted by
the rest to do so. Further development of sympathy cannot but make this
mode of behaving increasingly general and increasingly genuine.
Certain complex restraints on excesses of altruism exist, which, in
another way, force back the individual upon a normal egoism. Two may
here be noted.
In the first place, self-abnegations often repeated imply on the part
of the actor a tacit ascription of relative selfishness to others
who profit by the self-abnegations. Even with men as they are there
occasionally arises a feeling among those for whom sacrifices are
frequently made, that they are being insulted by the assumption that
they are ready to receive them, and in the mind of the actor also,
there sometimes grows up a recognition of this feeling on their part,
and a consequent check on his too great or too frequent surrenders of
pleasure. Obviously, in more developed natures, this kind of check must
act still more promptly.
In the second place, when, as the hypothesis implies, altruistic
pleasures have reached a greater intensity than they now possess,
each person will be debarred from undue pursuit of them by the
consciousness that other persons, too, desire them, and that scope for
others' enjoyment of them must be left. Even now may be observed among
groups of friends, where some competition in amiability is going on,
relinquishments of opportunities for self-abnegation that others may
have them. "Let her give up the gratification, she will like to do so;"
"Let him undertake the trouble, it will please him;" are suggestions
which, from time to time, illustrate this consciousness. The most
developed sympathy will care for the sympathetic satisfactions of
others as well as for their selfish satisfactions. What may be called a
higher equity will refrain from trespassing on the spheres of others'
altruistic activities, as a lower equity refrains from trespassing on
the spheres of their egoistic activities. And by this checking of what
may be called an egoistic altruism, undue sacrifices on the part of
each must be prevented.
What spheres, then, will eventually remain for altruism as it is
commonly conceived? There are three. One of them must to the last
continue large in extent; and the others must progressively diminish,
though they do not disappear.
The first is that which family life affords. Always there must be a
need for subordination of self-regarding feelings to other-regarding
feelings in the rearing of children. Though this will diminish with
diminution in the number to be reared, yet it will increase with the
greater elaboration, and prolongation of the activities on their
behalf. But as shown above, there is even now partially effected a
conciliation such that those egoistic satisfactions which parenthood
yields are achieved through altruistic activities--a conciliation
tending ever toward completeness. An important development of family
altruism must be added: the reciprocal care of parents by children
during old age--a care becoming lighter and better fulfilled, in which
a kindred conciliation may be looked for.
Pursuit of social welfare at large must afford hereafter, as it does
now, scope for the postponement of selfish interests to unselfish
interests, but a continually lessening scope; because as adaptation
to the social state progresses the needs for those regulative actions
by which social life is made harmonious become less. And here the
amount of altruistic action which each undertakes must inevitably
be kept within moderate bounds by others; for if they are similarly
altruistic, they will not allow some to pursue public ends to their own
considerable detriment that the rest may profit.
In the private relations of men, opportunities for self-sacrifice
prompted by sympathy, must ever in some degree, though eventually in a
small degree, be afforded by accidents, diseases, and misfortunes in
general; since, however near to completeness the adaptation of human
nature to the conditions of existence at large, physical and social,
may become, it can never reach completeness. Flood, fire, and wreck
must to the last yield at intervals opportunities for heroic acts; and
in the motives to such acts, anxiety for others will be less alloyed
with love of admiration than now. Extreme, however, as may be the
eagerness for altruistic action on the rare occasions hence arising,
the amount falling to the share of each must, for the reasons given, be
narrowly limited.
But though in the incidents of ordinary life, postponements of self to
others in large ways must become very infrequent, daily intercourse
will still furnish multitudinous small occasions for the activity of
fellow feeling. Always each may continue to further the welfare of
others by warding off from them evils they cannot see, and by aiding
their actions in ways unknown to them; or, conversely putting it, each
may have, as it were, supplementary eyes and ears in other persons,
which perceive for him things he cannot perceive himself: so perfecting
his life in numerous details, by making its adjustment to environing
actions complete.
§ 97. Must it then follow that eventually, with this diminution of the
spheres for it, altruism must diminish in total amount? By no means.
Such a conclusion implies a misconception.
Naturally, under existing conditions, with suffering widely diffused
and so much of effort demanded from the more fortunate in succoring the
less fortunate, altruism is understood to mean only self-sacrifice; or,
at any rate, a mode of action which, while it brings some pleasure, has
an accompaniment of self-surrender that is not pleasurable. But the
sympathy which prompts denial of self to please others is a sympathy
which also receives pleasure from their pleasures when they are
otherwise originated. The stronger the fellow-feeling which excites
efforts to make others happy, the stronger is the fellow-feeling with
their happiness however caused.
In its ultimate form, then, altruism will be the achievement of
gratification through sympathy with those gratifications of others
which are mainly produced by their activities of all kinds successfully
carried on--sympathetic gratification which costs the receiver nothing,
but is a gratis addition to his egoistic gratifications. This power of
representing in idea the mental states of others, which, during the
process of adaptation has had the function of mitigating suffering,
must, as the suffering falls to a minimum, come to have almost wholly
the function of mutually exalting men's enjoyments by giving every one
a vivid intuition of his neighbor's enjoyments. While pain prevails
widely, it is undesirable that each should participate much in the
consciousnesses of others; but with an increasing predominance of
pleasure, participation in others' consciousnesses becomes a gain of
pleasure to all.
And so there will disappear that apparently permanent opposition
between egoism and altruism, implied by the compromise reached in the
last chapter. Subjectively looked at, the conciliation will be such
that the individual will not have to balance between self-regarding
impulses and other-regarding impulses; but, instead, those
satisfactions of other-regarding impulses which involve self-sacrifice,
becoming rare and much prized, will be so unhesitatingly preferred
that the competition of self-regarding impulses with them will
scarcely be felt. And the subjective conciliation will also be such
that though altruistic pleasure will be attained, yet the motive of
action will not consciously be the attainment of altruistic pleasure;
but the idea present will be the securing of others' pleasures.
Meanwhile, the conciliation objectively considered will be equally
complete. Though each, no longer needing to maintain his egoistic
claims, will tend rather when occasion offers to surrender them, yet
others, similarly natured, will not permit him in any large measure
to do this, and that fulfillment of personal desires required for
completion of his life will thus be secured to him; though not now
egoistic in the ordinary sense, yet the effects of due egoism will be
achieved. Nor is this all. As, at an early stage, egoistic competition,
first reaching a compromise such that each claims no more than his
equitable share, afterward rises to a conciliation such that each
insists on the taking of equitable shares by others; so, at the latest
stage, altruistic competition, first reaching a compromise under
which each restrains himself from taking an undue share of altruistic
satisfactions, eventually rises to a conciliation under which each
takes care that others shall have their opportunities for altruistic
satisfactions: the highest altruism being that which ministers not to
the egoistic satisfactions of others only, but also to their altruistic
satisfactions.
Far off as seems such a state, yet every one of the factors counted on
to produce it may already be traced in operation among those of highest
natures. What now in them is occasional and feeble, may be expected
with further evolution to become habitual and strong; and what now
characterizes the exceptionally high may be expected eventually to
characterize all. For that which the best human nature is capable of,
is within the reach of human nature at large.
§ 98. That these conclusions will meet with any considerable acceptance
is improbable. Neither with current ideas nor with current sentiments
are they sufficiently congruous.
Such a view will not be agreeable to those who lament the spreading
disbelief in eternal damnation; nor to those who follow the apostle of
brute force in thinking that because the rule of the strong hand was
once good it is good for all time; nor to those whose reverence for
one who told them to put up the sword, is shown by using the sword to
spread his doctrine among heathens. From the ten thousand priests of
the religion of love, who are silent when the nation is moved by the
religion of hate, will come no sign of assent; nor from their bishops
who, far from urging the extreme precept of the master they pretend to
follow, to turn the other cheek when one is smitten, vote for acting
on the principle--strike lest ye be struck. Nor will any approval be
felt by legislators who, after praying to be forgiven their trespasses
as they forgive the trespasses of others, forthwith decide to attack
those who have not trespassed against them, and who, after a Queen's
Speech has invoked "the blessing of Almighty God" on their councils,
immediately provide means for committing political burglary.
But, though men who profess Christianity and practice Paganism can feel
no sympathy with such a view, there are some, classed as antagonists
to the current creed, who may not think it absurd to believe that a
rationalized version of its ethical principles will eventually be acted
upon.
CHAPTER XV.
ABSOLUTE AND RELATIVE ETHICS.
§ 99. As applied to Ethics, the word "absolute" will by many be
supposed to imply principles of right conduct that exist out of
relation to life as conditioned on the Earth, out of relation to
time and place, and independent of the Universe as now visible to
us, "eternal" principles as they are called. Those, however, who
recall the doctrine set forth in _First Principles_, will hesitate
to put this interpretation on the word. Right, as we can think it,
necessitates the thought of not right, or wrong, for its correlative,
and hence, to ascribe rightness to the acts of the Power manifested
through phenomena, is to assume the possibility that wrong acts may be
committed by this Power. But how come there to exist, apart from this
Power, conditions of such kind that subordination of its acts to them
makes them right and insubordination wrong. How can Unconditioned Being
be subject to conditions beyond itself?
If, for example, any one should assert that the Cause of Things,
conceived in respect of fundamental moral attributes as like ourselves,
did right in producing a Universe which, in the course of immeasurable
time, has given origin to beings capable of pleasure, and would have
done wrong in abstaining from the production of such a Universe; then,
the comment to be made is that, imposing the moral ideas generated in
his finite consciousness, upon the Infinite Existence which transcends
consciousness, he goes behind that Infinite Existence and prescribes
for it principles of action.
As implied in foregoing chapters, right and wrong as conceived by us
can exist only in relation to the actions of creatures capable of
pleasures and pains; seeing that analysis carries us back to pleasures
and pains as the elements out of which the conceptions are framed.
But if the word "absolute," as used above, does not refer to the
Unconditioned Being--if the principles of action distinguished as
absolute and relative concern the conduct of conditioned beings,
in what way are the words to be understood? An explanation of
their meanings will be best conveyed by a criticism on the current
conceptions of right and wrong.
§ 100. Conversations about the affairs of life habitually imply the
belief that every deed named may be placed under the one head or the
other. In discussing a political question, both sides take it for
granted that some line of action may be chosen which is right, while
all other lines of action are wrong. So, too, is it with judgments on
the doings of individuals; each of these is approved or disapproved on
the assumption that it is definitely classable as good or bad. Even
where qualifications are admitted, they are admitted with an implied
idea that some such positive characterization is to be made.
Nor is it in popular thought and speech only that we see this. If not
wholly and definitely, yet partially and by implication, the belief
is expressed by moralists. In his _Methods of Ethics_ (1st Ed., p.
6) Mr. Sidgwick says: "That there is in any given circumstances some
one thing which ought to be done and that this can be known, is a
fundamental assumption, made not by philosophers only, but by all who
perform any processes of moral reasoning."[K] In this sentence there
is specifically asserted only the last of the above propositions;
namely, that, in every case, what "ought to be done" "can be known."
But though that "which ought to be done" is not distinctly identified
with "the right," it may be inferred, in the absence of any indication
to the contrary, that Mr. Sidgwick regards the two as identical; and
doubtless, in so conceiving the postulates of moral science, he is
at one with most, if not all, who have made it a subject of study.
At first sight, indeed, nothing seems more obvious than that if
actions are to be judged at all, these postulates must be accepted.
Nevertheless they may both be called in question, and I think it may
be shown that neither of them is tenable. Instead of admitting that
there is in every case a right and a wrong, it may be contended that in
multitudinous cases no right, properly so-called, can be alleged, but
only a least wrong; and further, it may be contended that in many of
these cases where there can be alleged only a least wrong, it is not
possible to ascertain with any precision which is the least wrong.
A great part of the perplexities in ethical speculation arise from
neglect of this distinction between right and least wrong--between
the absolutely right and the relatively right. And many further
perplexities are due to the assumption that it can, in some way, be
decided in every case which of two courses is morally obligatory.
§ 101. The law of absolute right can take no cognizance of pain, save
the cognizance implied by negation. Pain is the correlative of some
species of wrong--some kind of divergence from that course of action
which perfectly fulfills all requirements. If, as was shown in an early
chapter, the conception of good conduct always proves, when analyzed,
to be the conception of a conduct which produces a surplus of pleasure
somewhere; while, conversely, the conduct conceived as bad proves
always to be that which inflicts somewhere a surplus of either positive
or negative pain; then the absolutely good, the absolutely right,
in conduct, can be that only which produces pure pleasure--pleasure
unalloyed with pain anywhere. By implication, conduct which has any
concomitant of pain, or any painful consequence, is partially wrong;
and the highest claim to be made for such conduct is that it is the
least wrong which, under the conditions, is possible--the relatively
right.
The contents of preceding chapters imply throughout that, considered
from the evolution point of view, the acts of men during the transition
which has been, is still, and long will be, in progress, must, in most
cases, be of the kind here classed as least wrong. In proportion to
the incongruity between the natures men inherit from the pre-social
state, and the requirements of social life, must be the amount of pain
entailed by their actions, either on themselves or on others. In so far
as pain is suffered, evil is inflicted; and conduct which inflicts any
evil cannot be absolutely good.
To make clear the distinction here insisted upon between that perfect
conduct which is the subject-matter of Absolute Ethics, and that
imperfect conduct which is the subject-matter of Relative Ethics, some
illustrations must be given.
§ 102. Among the best examples of absolutely right actions to be named
are those arising where the nature and the requirements have been
molded to one another before social evolution began. Two will here
suffice.
Consider the relation of a healthy mother to a healthy infant. Between
the two there exists a mutual dependence which is a source of pleasure
to both. In yielding its natural food to the child, the mother receives
gratification; and to the child there comes the satisfaction of
appetite--a satisfaction which accompanies furtherance of life, growth
and increasing enjoyment. Let the relation be suspended, and on both
sides there is suffering. The mother experiences both bodily pain and
mental pain, and the painful sensation borne by the child brings as
its result physical mischief and some damage to the emotional nature.
Thus the act is one that is to both exclusively pleasurable, while
abstention entails pain on both; and it is consequently of the kind we
here call absolutely right.
In the parental relations of the father we are furnished with a kindred
example. If he is well constituted in body and mind, his boy, eager
for play, finds in him a sympathetic response, and their frolics,
giving mutual pleasure, not only further the child's physical welfare,
but strengthen that bond of good feeling between the two which makes
subsequent guidance easier. And then if, repudiating the stupidities of
early education as at present conceived and unhappily State-enacted,
he has rational ideas of mental development, and sees that the
second-hand knowledge gained through books should begin to supplement
the first-hand knowledge gained by direct observation, only when a
good stock of this has been acquired, he will, with active sympathy,
aid in the exploration of the surrounding world which his boy pursues
with delight; giving and receiving gratification from moment to moment
while furthering ultimate welfare. Here, again, are actions of a kind
purely pleasurable alike in their immediate and remote effects--actions
absolutely right.
The intercourse of adults yields, for the reason assigned, relatively
few cases that fall completely within the same category. In their
transactions from hour to hour, more or less of deduction from pure
gratification is caused on one or other side by imperfect fitness to
the requirements. The pleasures men gain by laboring in their vocations
and receiving in one form or other returns for their services usually
have the drawback that the laborers are in a considerable degree
displeasurable. Cases, however, do occur where the energies are so
abundant that inaction is irksome; and where the daily work, not too
great in duration, is of a kind appropriate to the nature; and where,
as a consequence, pleasure rather than pain is a concomitant. When
services yielded by such a one are paid for by another similarly
adapted to his occupation, the entire transaction is of the kind
we are here considering: exchange under agreement between two so
constituted becomes a means of pleasure to both, with no set-off of
pain. Bearing in mind the form of nature which social discipline is
producing, as shown in the contrast between savage and civilized, the
implication is that ultimately men's activities at large will assume
this character. Remembering that in the course of organic evolution,
the means to enjoyment themselves eventually become sources of
enjoyment; and that there is no form of action which may not through
the development of appropriate structures become pleasurable; the
inference must be that industrial activities, carried on through
voluntary co-operation, will in time acquire the character of absolute
rightness as here conceived. Already, indeed, something like such a
state has been reached among certain of those who minister to our
æsthetic gratifications. The artist of genius--poet, painter, or
musician--is one who obtains the means of living by acts that are
directly pleasurable to him, while they yield, immediately or remotely,
pleasures to others.
Once more, among absolutely right acts may be named certain of those
which we class as benevolent. I say certain of them, because such
benevolent acts as entail submission to pain, positive or negative,
that others may receive pleasure, are, by the definition, excluded.
But there are benevolent acts of a kind yielding pleasure solely. Some
one who has slipped is saved from falling by a by-stander: a hurt is
prevented and satisfaction is felt by both. A pedestrian is choosing
a dangerous route, or a fellow-passenger is about to alight at the
wrong station, and, warned against doing so, is saved from evil: each
being, as a consequence, gratified. There is a misunderstanding between
friends, and one who sees how it has arisen explains, the result being
agreeable to all. Services to those around in the small affairs of
life, may be, and often are, of a kind which there is equal pleasure
in giving and receiving. Indeed, as was urged in the last chapter, the
actions of developed altruism must habitually have this character.
And so, in countless ways suggested by these few, men may add to one
another's happiness without anywhere producing unhappiness--ways which
are therefore absolutely right.
In contrast with these consider the many actions which from hour to
hour are gone through, now with an accompaniment of some pain to the
actor and now bringing results that are partially painful to others,
but which nevertheless are imperative. As implied by antithesis with
cases above referred to, the wearisomeness of productive labor as
ordinarily pursued, renders it in so far wrong; but then far greater
suffering would result, both to the laborer and his family, and
therefore far greater wrong would be done, were this wearisomeness not
borne. Though the pains which the care of many children entail on a
mother form a considerable set-off from the pleasures secured by them
to her children and herself, yet the miseries immediate and remote,
which neglect would entail, so far exceed them that submission to such
pains up to the limit of physical ability to bear them becomes morally
imperative as being the least wrong. A servant who fails to fulfill an
agreement in respect of work, or who is perpetually breaking crockery,
or who pilfers, may have to suffer pain from being discharged;
but since the evils to be borne by all concerned if incapacity or
misconduct is tolerated, not in one case only but habitually, must
be much greater, such infliction of pain is warranted as a means to
preventing greater pain. Withdrawal of custom from a tradesman whose
charges are too high, or whose commodities are inferior, or who gives
short measure, or who is unpunctual, decreases his welfare, and perhaps
injures his belongings; but as saving him from these evils would imply
bearing the evils his conduct causes, and as such regard for his
well-being would imply disregard of the well-being of some more worthy
or more efficient tradesman to whom the custom would else go, and as,
chiefly, general adoption of the implied course, having the effect that
the inferior would not suffer from their inferiority nor the superior
gain by their superiority, would produce universal misery, withdrawal
is justified--the act is relatively right.
§ 103. I pass now to the second of the two propositions above
enunciated. After recognizing the truth that a large part of human
conduct is not absolutely right, but only relatively right, we have
to recognize the further truth that in many cases where there is no
absolutely right course, but only courses that are more or less wrong,
it is not possible to say which is the least wrong. Recurrence to the
instances just given will show this.
There is a point up to which it is relatively right for a parent to
carry self-sacrifice for the benefit of offspring, and there is a point
beyond which self-sacrifice cannot be pushed without bringing, not only
on himself or herself, but also on the family, evils greater than
those to be prevented by the self-sacrifice. Who shall say where this
point is? Depending on the constitutions and needs of those concerned
it is in no two cases the same, and cannot be by any one more than
guessed. The transgressions or short-comings of a servant vary from the
trivial to the grave, and the evils which discharge may bring range
through countless degrees from slight to serious. The penalty may be
inflicted for a very small offense, and then there is wrong done, or,
after numerous grave offenses, it may not be inflicted, and again there
is wrong done. How shall be determined the degree of transgression
beyond which to discharge is less wrong than not to discharge? In like
manner with the shopkeeper's misdemeanors. No one can sum up either the
amount of positive and negative pain which tolerating them involves,
nor the amount of positive and negative pain involved by not tolerating
them, and in medium cases no one can say where the one exceeds the
other.
In men's wider relations frequently occur circumstances under which a
decision one or other way is imperative, and yet under which not even
the most sensitive conscience, helped by the clearest judgment, can
decide which of the alternatives is relatively right. Two examples will
suffice.
Here is a merchant who loses by the failure of a man indebted to him.
Unless he gets help he himself will fail, and if he fails he will bring
disaster not only on his family but on all who have given him credit.
Even if by borrowing he is enabled to meet immediate engagements, he
is not safe; for the time is one of panic, and others of his debtors
by going to the wall may put him in further difficulties. Shall he ask
a friend for a loan? On the one hand, is it not wrong forthwith to
bring on himself, his family, and those who have business relations
with him, the evils of his failure? On the other hand, is it not wrong
to hypothecate the property of his friend, and lead him too, with his
belongings and dependents, into similar risks? The loan would probably
tide him over his difficulty, in which case would it not be unjust to
his creditors did he refrain from asking it? Contrariwise, the loan
would very possibly fail to stave off his bankruptcy, in which case is
not his action in trying to obtain it, practically fraudulent? Though,
in extreme cases, it may be easy to say which course is the least
wrong, how is it possible in all those medium cases where even by the
keenest man of business the contingencies cannot be calculated?
Take, again, the difficulties that not unfrequently arise from
antagonism between family duties and social duties. Here is a tenant
farmer whose political principles prompt him to vote in opposition to
his landlord. If, being a Liberal, he votes for a Conservative, not
only does he by his act say that he thinks what he does not think, but
he may perhaps assist what he regards as bad legislation: his vote
may by chance turn the election, and on a Parliamentary division a
single member may decide the fate of a measure. Even neglecting, as too
improbable, such serious consequences, there is the manifest truth that
if all who hold like views with himself are similarly deterred from
electoral expression of them, there must result a different balance of
power and a different national policy; making it clear that only by
adherence of all to their political principles can the policy he thinks
right be maintained. But now, on the other hand, how can he absolve
himself from responsibility for the evils which those depending on him
may suffer if he fulfills what appears to be a peremptory public duty?
Is not his duty to his children even more peremptory? Does not the
family precede the State; and does not the welfare of the State depend
on the welfare of the family? May he, then, take a course which, if
the threats uttered are carried out, will eject him from his farm; and
so cause inability, perhaps temporary, perhaps prolonged; to feed his
children. The contingent evils are infinitely varied in their ratios.
In one case the imperativeness of the public duty is great and the
evil that may come on dependents small; in another case the political
issue is of trivial moment and the possible injury which the family may
suffer is great; and between these extremes there are all gradations.
Further, the degrees of probability of each result, public and private,
range from the nearly certain to the almost impossible. Admitting,
then, that it is wrong to act in a way likely to injure the State; and
admitting that it is wrong to act in a way likely to injure the family,
we have to recognize the fact that in countless cases no one can decide
by which of the alternative courses the least wrong is likely to be
done.
These instances will sufficiently show that in conduct at large,
including men's dealings with themselves, with their families, with
their friends, with their debtors and creditors, and with the public,
it usually happens that whatever course is taken entails some pain
somewhere; forming a deduction from the pleasure achieved, and making
the course in so far not absolutely right. Further, they will show that
throughout a considerable part of conduct, no guiding principle, no
method of estimation, enables us to say whether a proposed course is
even relatively right; as causing, proximately and remotely, specially
and generally, the greatest surplus of good over evil.
§ 104. And now we are prepared for dealing in a systematic way with the
distinction between Absolute Ethics and Relative Ethics.
Scientific truths, of whatever order, are reached by eliminating
perturbing or conflicting factors, and recognizing only fundamental
factors. When, by dealing with fundamental factors in the abstract, not
as presented in actual phenomena, but as presented in ideal separation,
general laws have been ascertained, it becomes possible to draw
inferences in concrete cases by taking into account incidental factors.
But it is only by first ignoring these and recognizing the essential
elements alone that we can discover the essential truths sought. Take,
in illustration, the progress of mechanics from its empirical form to
its rational form.
All have occasional experience of the fact that a person pushed on
one side beyond a certain degree loses his balance and falls. It is
observed that a stone flung, or an arrow shot, does not proceed in a
straight line, but comes to the earth after pursuing a course which
deviates more and more from its original course. When trying to break
a stick across the knee, it is found that success is easier if the
stick is seized at considerable distances from the knee on each side
than if seized close to the knee. Daily use of a spear draws attention
to the truth that by thrusting its point under a stone and depressing
the shaft, the stone may be raised the more readily the further
away the hand is toward the end. Here, then, are sundry experiences,
eventually grouped into empirical generalizations, which serve to guide
conduct in certain simple cases. How does mechanical science evolve
from these experiences? To reach a formula expressing the powers of
the lever, it supposes a lever which does not, like the stick, admit
of being bent, but is absolutely rigid, and it supposes a fulcrum
not having a broad surface, like that of one ordinarily used, but a
fulcrum without breadth, and it supposes that the weight to be raised
bears on a definite point, instead of bearing over a considerable
portion of the lever. Similarly with the leaning body, which, passing
a certain inclination, overbalances. Before the truth respecting the
relations of center of gravity and base can be formulated, it must be
assumed that the surface on which the body stands is unyielding, that
the edge of the body itself is unyielding, and that its mass, while
made to lean more and more, does not change its form--conditions not
fulfilled in the cases commonly observed. And so, too, is it with the
projectile: determination of its course by deduction from mechanical
laws, primarily ignores all deviations caused by its shape and by the
resistance of the air. The science of rational mechanics is a science
which consists of such ideal truths, and can come into existence
only by thus dealing with ideal cases. It remains impossible so long
as attention is restricted to concrete cases presenting all the
complications of friction, plasticity and so forth.
But now, after disentangling certain fundamental mechanical truths, it
becomes possible by their help to guide actions better, and it becomes
possible to guide them still better when, as presently happens, the
complicating elements from which they have been disentangled are
themselves taken into account. At an advanced stage the modifying
effects of friction are allowed for, and the inferences are qualified
to the requisite extent. The theory of the pulley is corrected in its
application to actual cases by recognizing the rigidity of cordage;
the effects of which are formulated. The stabilities of masses,
determinable in the abstract by reference to the centers of gravity
of the masses in relation to the bases, come to be determined in the
concrete by including also their characters in respect of cohesion. The
courses of projectiles, having been theoretically settled as though
they moved through a vacuum, are afterward settled in more exact
correspondence with fact by taking into account atmospheric resistance.
And thus we see illustrated the relation between certain absolute
truths of mechanical science, and certain relative truths which involve
them. We are shown that no scientific establishment of relative
truths is possible until the absolute truths have been formulated
independently. We see that mechanical science, fitted for dealing with
the real, can arise only after ideal mechanical science has arisen.
All this holds of moral science. As by early and rude experiences
there were inductively reached, vague but partially true notions
respecting the overbalancing of bodies, the motions of missiles,
the actions of levers; so by early and rude experiences there were
inductively reached, vague but partially true notions respecting
the effects of men's behavior on themselves, on one another, and on
society: to a certain extent serving in the last case, as in the
first, for the guidance of conduct. Moreover, as this rudimentary
mechanical knowledge, though still remaining empirical, becomes
during early stages of civilization at once more definite and more
extensive; so during early stages of civilization these ethical ideas,
still retaining their empirical character, increase in precision and
multiplicity. But just as we have seen that mechanical knowledge
of the empirical sort can evolve into mechanical science only by
first omitting all, qualifying circumstances, and generalizing in
absolute ways the fundamental laws of forces; so here we have to see
that empirical ethics can evolve into rational ethics only by first
neglecting all complicating incidents, and formulating the laws of
right action apart from the obscuring effects of special conditions.
And the final implication is that just as the system of mechanical
truths, conceived in ideal separation as absolute, becomes applicable
to real mechanical problems in such way that making allowance for all
incidental circumstances there can be reached conclusions far nearer
to the truth than could otherwise be reached; so a system of ideal
ethical truths, expressing the absolutely right, will be applicable to
the questions of our transitional state in such ways that, allowing for
the friction of an incomplete life and the imperfection of existing
natures, we may ascertain with approximate correctness what is the
relatively right.
§ 105. In a chapter entitled "Definition of Morality" in _Social
Statics_, I contended that the moral law, properly so-called, is
the law of the perfect man--is the formula of ideal conduct--is the
statement in all cases of that which should be, and cannot recognize
in its propositions any elements implying existence of that which
should not be. Instancing questions concerning the right course to
be taken in cases where wrong has already been done, I alleged that
the answers to such questions cannot be given "on purely ethical
principles." I argued that:
"No conclusions can lay claim to absolute truth, but such as depend
upon truths that are themselves absolute. Before there can be
exactness in an inference, there must be exactness in the antecedent
propositions. A geometrician requires that the straight lines with
which he deals shall be veritably straight; and that his circles, and
ellipses, and parabolas shall agree with precise definitions--shall
perfectly and invariably answer to specified equations. If you put
to him a question in which these conditions are not complied with,
he tells you that it cannot be answered. So likewise is it with the
philosophical moralist. He treats solely of the _straight_ man. He
determines the properties of the straight man; describes how the
straight man comports himself; shows in what relationship he stands
to other straight men; shows how a community of straight men is
constituted. Any deviation from strict rectitude he is obliged wholly
to ignore. It cannot be admitted into his premises without vitiating
all his conclusions. A problem in which a _crooked_ man forms one of
the elements is insoluble to him."
Referring to this view, specifically in the first edition of the
_Methods of Ethics_, but more generally in the second edition, Mr.
Sidgwick says:
"Those who take this view adduce the analogy of Geometry to show that
Ethics ought to deal with ideally perfect human relations, just as
Geometry treats of ideally perfect lines and circles. But the most
irregular line has definite spatial relations with which Geometry
does not refuse to deal: though of course they are more complex
than those of a straight line. So in Astronomy, it would be more
convenient for purposes of study if the stars moved in circles, as
was once believed; but the fact that they move not in circles but in
ellipses, and even in imperfect and perturbed ellipses, does not take
them out of the sphere of scientific investigation: by patience and
industry we have learned how to reduce to principles and calculate
even these more complicated motions. It is, no doubt, a convenient
artifice for purposes of instruction to assume that the planets
move in perfect ellipses (or even--at an earlier stage of study--in
circles): we thus allow the individual's knowledge to pass through
the same gradations in accuracy as that of the race has done. But
what we want, as astronomers, to know is the actual motion of the
stars and its causes: and similarly as moralists we naturally inquire
what ought to be done in the actual world in which we live." (P. 19,
Sec. Ed.)
Beginning with the first of these two statements, which concerns
Geometry, I must confess myself surprised to find my propositions
called into question; and after full consideration I remain at a loss
to understand Mr. Sidgwick's mode of viewing the matter. When, in a
sentence preceding those quoted above, I remarked on the impossibility
of solving "mathematically a series of problems respecting crooked
lines and broken-backed curves," it never occurred to me that I should
be met by the direct assertion that "Geometry does not refuse to deal"
with "the most irregular line." Mr. Sidgwick states that an irregular
line, say such as a child makes in scribbling, has "definite spatial
relations." What meaning does he here give to the word "definite?"
If he means that its relations to space at large are definite in the
sense that by an infinite intelligence they would be definable, the
reply is that to an infinite intelligence all spatial relations would
be definable: there could be no indefinite spatial relations--the word
"definite" thus ceasing to mark any distinction. If, on the other hand,
when saying that an irregular line has "definite spatial relations,"
he means relations knowable definitely by human intelligence, there
still comes the question, how is the word "definite" to be understood?
Surely anything distinguished as definite admits of being defined;
but how can we define an irregular line? And if we cannot define
the irregular line itself, how can we know its "spatial relations"
definite? And how, in the absence of definition, can Geometry deal with
it? If Mr. Sidgwick means that it can be dealt with by the "method of
limits," then the reply is that in such case, not the line itself is
dealt with geometrically, but certain definite lines artificially put
in quasi-definite relations to it, the indefinite becomes cognizable
only through the medium of the hypothetically definite.
Turning to the second illustration, the rejoinder to be made is that in
so far as it concerns the relations between the ideal and the real, the
analogy drawn does not shake but strengthens my argument. For whether
considered under its geometrical or under its dynamical aspect, and
whether considered in the necessary order of its development or in the
order historically displayed, Astronomy shows us throughout that truths
respecting simple, theoretically-exact relations, must be ascertained
before truths respecting the complex and practically inexact
relations that actually exist can be ascertained. As applied to the
interpretation of planetary movements, we see that the theory of cycles
and epicycles was based on pre-existing knowledge of the circle: the
properties of an ideal curve having been learned, a power was acquired
of giving some expression to the celestial motions. We see that the
Copernican interpretation expressed the facts in terms of circular
movements otherwise distributed and combined. We see that Kepler's
advance from the conception of circular movements to the conception
of elliptic movements was made possible by comparing the facts as they
are with the facts as they would be were the movements circular. We
see that the subsequently-learned deviations from elliptic movements
were learned only through the presupposition that the movements are
elliptical. And we see, lastly, that even now predictions concerning
the exact positions of planets, after taking account of perturbations,
imply constant references to ellipses that are regarded as their normal
or average orbits for the time being. Thus, ascertainment of the actual
truths has been made possible only by preascertainment of certain ideal
truths. To be convinced that by no other course could the actual truths
have been ascertained, it needs only to suppose any one saying that
it did not concern him, as an astronomer, to know anything about the
properties of circles and ellipses, but that he had to deal with the
Solar System as it exists, to which end it was his business to observe
and tabulate positions and directions and to be guided by the facts as
he found them.
So, too, is it if we look at the development of dynamical astronomy.
The first proposition in Newton's _Principia_ deals with the movement
of a single body round a single center of force; and the phenomena
of central motion are first formulated in a case which is not simply
ideal, but in which there is no specification of the force concerned:
detachment from the real is the greatest possible. Again, postulating
a principle of action conforming to an ideal law, the theory of
gravitation deals with the several problems of the Solar System in
fictitious detachment from the rest; and it makes certain fictitious
assumptions, such as that the mass of each body concerned is
concentrated in its center of gravity. Only later, after establishing
the leading truths by this artifice of disentangling the major factors
from the minor factors, is the theory applied to the actual problems in
their ascending degrees of complexity; taking in more and more of the
minor factors. And if we ask whether the dynamics of the Solar System
could have been established in any other way, we see that here, too,
simple truths holding under ideal conditions, have to be ascertained
before real truths existing under complex conditions can be ascertained.
The alleged necessary precedence of Absolute Ethics over Relative
Ethics is thus, I think, further elucidated. One who has followed the
general argument thus far, will not deny that an ideal social being
may be conceived as so constituted that his spontaneous activities
are congruous with the conditions imposed by the social environment
formed by other such beings. In many places, and in various ways, I
have argued that conformably with the laws of evolution in general,
and conformably with the laws of organization in particular, there has
been, and is, in progress, an adaptation of humanity to the social
state, changing it in the direction of such an ideal congruity. And the
corollary before drawn and here repeated, is that the ultimate man is
one in whom this process has gone so far as to produce a correspondence
between all the promptings of his nature and all the requirements of
his life as carried on in society. If so it is a necessary implication
that there exists an ideal code of conduct formulating the behavior
of the completely adapted man in the completely evolved society.
Such a code is that here called Absolute Ethics as distinguished
from Relative Ethics--a code the injunctions of which are alone to
be considered as absolutely right in contrast with those that are
relatively right or least wrong; and which, as a system of ideal
conduct, is to serve as a standard for our guidance in solving, as well
as we can, the problems of real conduct.
§ 105. A clear conception of this matter is so important that I must
be excused for bringing in aid of it a further illustration, more
obviously appropriate as being furnished by organic science instead
of by inorganic science. The relation between morality proper and
morality, as commonly conceived, is analogous to the relation between
physiology and pathology; and the course usually pursued by moralists
is much like the course of one who studies pathology without previous
study of physiology.
Physiology describes the various functions which, as combined,
constitute and maintain life; and in treating of them it assumes that
they are severally performed in right ways, in due amounts, and in
proper order; it recognizes only healthy functions. If it explains
digestion, it supposes that the heart is supplying blood and that
the visceral nervous system is stimulating the organs immediately
concerned. If it gives a theory of the circulation, it assumes that
blood has been produced by the combined actions of the structures
devoted to its production, and that it is properly ærated. If the
relations between respiration and the vital processes at large are
interpreted, it is on the presupposition that the heart goes on sending
blood, not only to the lungs and to certain nervous centers, but to the
diaphragm and intercostal muscles. Physiology ignores failures in the
actions of these several organs. It takes no account of imperfections,
it neglects derangements, it does not recognize pain, it knows nothing
of vital wrong. It simply formulates that which goes on as a result
of complete adaptation of all parts to all needs. That is to say, in
relation to the inner actions constituting bodily life, physiological
theory has a position like that which ethical theory, under its
absolute form as above conceived, has to the outer actions constituting
conduct. The moment cognizance is taken of excess of function, or
arrest of function, or defect of function, with the resulting evil,
physiology passes into pathology. We begin now to take account of wrong
actions in the inner life analogous to the wrong actions in the outer
life taken account of by ordinary theories of morals.
The antithesis thus drawn, however, is but preliminary. After observing
the fact that there is a science of vital actions normally carried on,
which ignores abnormal actions, we have more especially to observe
that the science of abnormal actions can reach such definiteness as is
possible to it only on condition that the science of normal actions has
previously become definite; or rather, let us say that pathological
science depends for its advances on previous advances made by
physiological science. The very conception of disordered action implies
a preconception of well-ordered action. Before it can be decided that
the heart is beating faster or slower than it should its healthy
rate of beating must be learned; before the pulse can be recognized
as too weak or too strong, its proper strength must be known, and so
throughout. Even the rudest and most empirical ideas of diseases,
pre-suppose ideas of the healthy states from which they are deviations,
and, obviously, the diagnosis of diseases can become scientific only as
fast as there arises scientific knowledge of organic actions that are
undiseased.
Similarly, then, is it with the relation between absolute morality, or
the law of perfect right in human conduct, and relative morality which,
recognizing wrong in human conduct, has to decide in what way the
wrong deviates from the right, and how the right is to be most nearly
approached. When, formulating normal conduct in an ideal society, we
have reached a science of absolute ethics, we have simultaneously
reached a science which, when used to interpret the phenomena of real
societies in their transitional states, full of the miseries due to
non-adaptation (which we may call pathological states) enables us to
form approximately true conclusions respecting the natures of the
abnormalities, and the courses which tend most in the direction of the
normal.
§ 106. And now let it be observed that the conception of ethics thus
set forth, strange as many will think it, is one which really lies
latent in the beliefs of moralists at large. Though not definitely
acknowledged it is vaguely implied in many of their propositions.
From early times downward we find in ethical speculations, references
to the ideal man, his acts, his feelings, his judgments. Well-doing
is conceived by Socrates as the doing of "the best man," who, "as a
husbandman, performs well the duties of husbandry; as a surgeon, the
duties of the medical art; in political life, his duty toward the
commonwealth." Plato, in _Minos_, as a standard to which State law
should conform, "postulates the decision of some ideal wise man," and
in _Laches_ the wise man's knowledge of good and evil is supposed to
furnish the standard: disregarding "the maxims of the existing society"
as unscientific, Plato regards as the proper guide, that "Idea of the
Good which only a philosopher can ascend to." Aristotle (_Eth._ Bk.
iii. ch. 4), making the decisions of the good man the standard, says:
"For the good man judges everything rightly, and in every case the
truth appears so to him.... And, perhaps, the principal difference
between the good and the bad man is that the good man sees the truth in
every case, since he is, as it were, the rule and measure of it." The
Stoics, too, conceived of "complete rectitude of action" as that "which
none could achieve except the wise man"--the ideal man. And Epicurus
had an ideal standard. He held the virtuous state to be "a tranquil,
undisturbed, innocuous, non-competitive fruition, which approached most
nearly to the perfect happiness of the gods," who "neither suffered
vexation in themselves nor caused vexation to others."[L]
If, in modern times, influenced by theological dogmas concerning the
fall and human sinfulness, and by a theory of obligation derived from
the current creed, moralists have less frequently referred to an ideal,
yet references are traceable. We see one in the dictum of Kant--"Act
according to the maxim only, which you can wish, at the same time, to
become a universal law." For this implies the thought of a society in
which the maxim is acted upon by all and universal benefit recognized
as the effect: there is a conception of ideal conduct under ideal
conditions. And though Mr. Sidgwick, in the quotation above made from
him, implies that Ethics is concerned with man as he is, rather than
with man as he should be; yet, in elsewhere speaking of Ethics as
dealing with conduct as it should be, rather than with conduct as it
is, he postulates ideal conduct and indirectly the ideal man. On his
first page, speaking of Ethics along with Jurisprudence and Politics,
he says that they are distinguished "by the characteristic that they
attempt to determine not the actual but the ideal--what ought to exist,
not what does exist."
It requires only that these various conceptions of an ideal conduct,
and of an ideal humanity, should be made consistent and definite, to
bring them into agreement with the conception above set forth. At
present such conceptions are habitually vague. The ideal man having
been conceived in terms of the current morality, is thereupon erected
into a moral standard by which the goodness of actions may be judged;
and the reasoning becomes circular. To make the ideal man serve as a
standard, he has to be defined in terms of the conditions which his
nature fulfills--in terms of those objective requirements which must
be met before conduct can be right; and the common defect of these
conceptions of the ideal man is that they suppose him out of relation
to such conditions.
All the above references to him, direct or indirect, imply that
the ideal man is supposed to live and act under existing social
conditions. The tacit inquiry is, not what his actions would be
under circumstances altogether changed, but what they would be under
present circumstances. And this inquiry is futile for two reasons. The
co-existence of a perfect man and an imperfect society is impossible;
and could the two co-exist, the resulting conduct would not furnish the
ethical standard sought.
In the first place, given the laws of life as they are, and a man
of ideal nature cannot be produced in a society consisting of men
having natures remote from the ideal. As well might we expect a child
of English type to be borne among Negroes, as expect that among the
organically immoral, one who is organically moral will arise. Unless
it be denied that character results from inherited structure, it must
be admitted that since, in any society, each individual descends from
a stock which, traced back a few generations, ramifies everywhere
through the society, and participates in its average nature, there
must, notwithstanding marked individual diversities, be preserved such
community as prevents any one from reaching an ideal form while the
rest remain far below it.
In the second place, ideal conduct such as ethical theory is concerned
with, is not possible for the ideal man in the midst of men otherwise
constituted. An absolutely just or perfectly sympathetic person, could
not live and act according to his nature in a tribe of cannibals.
Among people who are treacherous and utterly without scruple, entire
truthfulness and openness must bring ruin. If all around recognize
only the law of the strongest, one whose nature will not allow him to
inflict pain on others, must go to the wall, There requires a certain
congruity between the conduct of each member of a society and other's
conduct. A mode of action entirely alien to the prevailing modes of
action cannot be successfully persisted in--must eventuate in death of
self, or posterity, or both.
Hence it is manifest that we must consider the ideal man as existing in
the ideal social state. On the evolution hypothesis, the two presuppose
one another; and only when they co-exist can there exist that ideal
conduct which Absolute Ethics has to formulate, and which Relative
Ethics has to take as the standard by which to estimate divergencies
from right, or degrees of wrong.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE SCOPE OF ETHICS.
§ 107. At the outset it was shown that as the conduct with which
Ethics deals is a part of conduct at large, conduct at large must be
understood before this part can be understood. After taking a general
view of conduct, not human only but sub-human, and not only as existing
but as evolving, we saw that Ethics has for its subject-matter the most
highly-evolved conduct as displayed by the most highly-evolved being,
Man--is a specification of those traits which his conduct assumes
on reaching its limit of evolution. Conceived thus as comprehending
the laws of right living at large, Ethics has a wider field than is
commonly assigned to it. Beyond the conduct commonly approved or
reprobated as right or wrong, it includes all conduct which furthers
or hinders, in either direct or indirect ways, the welfare of self or
others.
As foregoing chapters in various places imply, the entire field
of Ethics includes the two great divisions, personal and social.
There is a class of actions directed to personal ends, which are
to be judged in their relations to personal well-being, considered
apart from the well-being of others: though they secondarily affect
fellow-men these primarily affect the agent himself, and must be
classed as intrinsically right or wrong according to their beneficial
or detrimental effects on him. There are actions of another class
which affect fellow-men immediately and remotely, and which, though
their results to self are not to be ignored, must be judged as good or
bad mainly by their results to others. Actions of this last class fall
into two groups. Those of the one group achieve ends in ways that do
or do not unduly interfere with the pursuit of ends by others--actions
which, because of this difference, we call respectively unjust or just.
Those forming the other group are of a kind which influence the states
of others without directly interfering with the relations between
their labors and the results, in one way or the other--actions which
we speak of as beneficent or maleficent. And the conduct which we
regard as beneficent is itself subdivisible according as it shows us a
self-repression to avoid giving pain, or an expenditure of effort to
give pleasure--negative beneficence and positive beneficence.
Each of these divisions and sub-divisions has to be considered first as
a part of Absolute Ethics and then as a part of Relative Ethics. Having
seen what its injunctions must be for the ideal man under the implied
ideal conditions, we shall be prepared to see how such injunctions are
to be most nearly fulfilled by actual men under existing conditions.
§ 108. For reasons already pointed out, a code of perfect personal
conduct can never be made definite. Many forms of life, diverging from
one another in considerable degrees, may be so carried on in society
as entirely to fulfill the conditions to harmonious co-operation. And
if various types of men, adapted to various types of activities, may
thus lead lives that are severally complete after their kinds, no
specific statement of the activities universally required for personal
well-being is possible.
But, though, the particular requirements to be fulfilled for perfect
individual well-being, must vary along with variations in the material
conditions of each society, certain general requirements have to be
fulfilled by the individuals of all societies. An average balance
between waste and nutrition has universally to be preserved. Normal
vitality implies a relation between activity and rest falling within
moderate limits of variation. Continuance of the society depends on
satisfaction of those primarily personal needs which result in marriage
and parenthood. Perfection of individual life hence implies certain
modes of action which are approximately alike in all cases, and which,
therefore, become part of the subject matter of Ethics.
That it is possible to reduce even this restricted part to scientific
definiteness, can scarcely be said. But ethical requirements may here
be to such extent affiliated upon physical necessities, as to give
them a partially scientific authority. It is clear that between the
expenditure of bodily substance in vital activities, and the taking
in of materials from which this substance may be renewed, there is a
direct relation. It is clear, too, that there is a direct relation
between the wasting of tissue by effort, and the need for those
cessations of effort during which repair may overtake waste. Nor is
it less clear that between the rate of mortality and the rate of
multiplication in any society, there is a relation such that the last
must reach a certain level before it can balance the first, and prevent
disappearance of the society. And it may be inferred that pursuits of
other leading ends are, in like manner, determined by certain natural
necessities, and from these derive their ethical sanctions. That it
will ever be practicable to lay down precise rules for private conduct
in conformity with such requirements, may be doubted. But the function
of Absolute Ethics in relation to private conduct will have been
discharged when it has produced the warrant for its requirements as
generally expressed; when it has shown the imperativeness of obedience
to them; and when it has thus taught the need for deliberately
considering whether the conduct fulfills them as well may be.
Under the ethics of personal considered in relation to existing
conditions, have to come all questions concerning the degree in which
immediate personal welfare has to be postponed, either to ultimate
personal welfare or to the welfare of others. As now carried on, life
hourly sets the claims of present self against the claims of future
self, and hourly brings individual interests face to face with the
interests of other individuals, taken singly or as associated. In many
of such cases the decisions can be nothing more than compromises; and
ethical science, here necessarily empirical, can do no more than aid
in making compromises that are the least objectionable. To arrive at
the best compromise in any case, implies correct conceptions of the
alternative results of this or that course. And, consequently in so
far as the absolute ethics of individual conduct can be made definite,
it must help us to decide between conflicting personal requirements,
and also between the needs for asserting self and the needs for
subordinating self.
§ 109. From that division of Ethics which deals with the right
regulation of private conduct, considered apart from the effects
directly produced on others, we pass now to that division of Ethics
which, considering exclusively the effects of conduct on others, treats
of the right regulation of it with a view to such effects.
The first set of regulations coming under this head are those
concerning what we distinguish as justice. Individual life is possible
only on condition that each organ is paid for its action by an
equivalent of blood, while the organism as a whole obtains from the
environment assimilable matters that compensate for its efforts; and
the mutual dependence of parts in the social organism, necessitates
that, alike for its total life and the lives of its units, there
similarly shall be maintained a due proportion between returns and
labors: the natural relation between work and welfare shall be
preserved intact. Justice, which formulates the range of conduct and
limitations to conduct hence arising, is at once the most important
division of Ethics and the division which admits of the greatest
definiteness. That principle of equivalence which meets us when we
seek its roots in the laws of individual life, involves the idea of
_measure_; and on passing to social life, the same principle introduces
us to the conception of equity or _equalness_, in the relations of
citizens to one another: the elements of the questions arising are
_quantitative_, and hence the solutions assume a more scientific form.
Though, having to recognize differences among individuals due to age,
sex, or other cause, we cannot regard the members of a society as
absolutely equal, and therefore cannot deal with problems growing out
of their relations with that precision which absolute equality might
make possible; yet, considering them as approximately equal in virtue
of their common human nature, and dealing with questions of equity on
this supposition, we may reach conclusions of a sufficiently definite
kind.
This division of Ethics considered under its absolute form, has to
define the equitable relations among perfect individuals who limit
one another's spheres of action by co-existing, and who achieve their
ends by co-operation. It has to do much more than this. Beyond justice
between man and man, justice between each man and the aggregate of
men has to be dealt with by it. The relations between the individual
and the State, considered as representing all individuals, have to be
deduced--an important and a relatively difficult matter. What is the
ethical warrant for governmental authority? To what ends may it be
legitimately exercised? How far may it rightly be carried? Up to what
point is the citizen bound to recognize the collective decisions of
other citizens, and beyond what point may he properly refuse to obey
them?
These relations, private and public, considered as maintained under
ideal conditions, having been formulated, there come to be dealt with
the analogous relations under real conditions--absolute justice being
the standard, relative justice has to be determined by considering how
near an approach may, under present circumstances, be made to it. As
already implied in various places, it is impossible during stages of
transition which necessitate ever changing compromises, to fulfill the
dictates of absolute equity; and nothing beyond empirical judgments
can be formed of the extent to which they may be, at any given
time, fulfilled. While war continues and injustice is done between
societies, there cannot be anything like complete justice within
each society. Militant organization no less than militant action,
is irreconcilable with pure equity; and the inequity implied by it
inevitably ramifies throughout all social relations. But there is at
every stage in social evolution, a certain range of variation within
which it is possible to approach nearer to, or diverge further from,
the requirements of absolute equity. Hence these requirements have ever
to be kept in view that relative equity may be ascertained.
§ 110. Of the two subdivisions into which beneficence falls, the
negative and the positive, neither can be specialized. Under ideal
conditions the first of them has but a nominal existence; and the
second of them passes largely into a transfigured form admitting of but
general definition.
In the conduct of the ideal man among ideal men, that self-regulation
which has for its motive to avoid giving pain, practically disappears.
No one having feelings which prompt acts that disagreeably affect
others, there can exist no code of restraints referring to this
division of conduct.
But though negative beneficence is only a nominal part of Absolute
Ethics, it is an actual and considerable part of Relative Ethics.
For while men's natures remain imperfectly adapted to social life,
there must continue in them impulses which, causing in some cases
the actions we name unjust, cause in other cases the actions we name
unkind--unkind now in deed and now in word; and in respect of these
modes of behavior which, though not aggressive, give pain, there arise
numerous and complicated problems. Pain is sometimes given to others
simply by maintaining an equitable claim; pain is at other times given
by refusing a request; and again at other times by maintaining an
opinion. In these and numerous cases suggested by them, there have to
be answered the questions whether, to avoid inflicting pain, personal
feelings should be sacrificed, and how far sacrificed. Again, in cases
of another class, pain is given not by a passive course, but by an
active course. How far shall a person who has misbehaved be grieved by
showing aversion to him? Shall one whose action is to be reprobated
have the reprobation expressed to him or shall nothing be said? Is it
right to annoy by condemning a prejudice which another displays? These
and kindred queries have to be answered after taking into account the
immediate pain given, the possible benefit caused by giving it, and
the possible evil caused by not giving it. In solving problems of
this class, the only help Absolute Ethics gives, is by enforcing the
consideration that inflicting more pain than is necessitated by proper
self-regard, or by desire for another's benefit, or by the maintenance
of a general principle is unwarranted.
Of positive beneficence under its absolute form nothing more specific
can be said than that it must become co-extensive with whatever
sphere remains for it; aiding to complete the life of each as a
recipient of services and to exalt the life of each as a renderer of
services. As with a developed humanity the desire for it by every
one will so increase, and the sphere for exercise of it so decrease,
as to involve an altruistic competition, analogous to the existing
egoistic competition, it may be that Absolute Ethics will eventually
include what we before called a higher equity, prescribing the mutual
limitations of altruistic activities.
Under its relative form, positive beneficence presents numerous
problems, alike important and difficult, admitting only of empirical
solutions. How far is self-sacrifice for another's benefit to be
carried in each case?--a question which must be answered differently
according to the character of the other, the needs of the other, and
the various claims of self and belongings which have to be met. To what
extent under given circumstances shall private welfare be subordinated
to public welfare?--a question to be answered after considering
the importance of the end and the seriousness of the sacrifice.
What benefit and what detriment will result from gratuitous aid
yielded to another?--a question in each case implying an estimate of
probabilities. Is there any unfair treatment of sundry others, involved
by more than fair treatment of this one other? Up to what limit may
help be given to the existing generation of the inferior, without
entailing mischief on future generations of the superior? Evidently to
these and many kindred questions included in this division of Relative
Ethics, approximately true answers only can be given.
But though here Absolute Ethics, by the standard it supplies, does not
greatly aid Relative Ethics, yet, as in other cases, it aids somewhat
by keeping before consciousness an ideal conciliation of the various
claims involved; and by suggesting the search for such compromise among
them, as shall not disregard any, but shall satisfy all to the greatest
extent practicable.
FOOTNOTES:
[A] _Leviathan_, ch. xv.
[B] I can count up more than a dozen such cases among those personally
well known to me.
[C] _Constitutional Code_, chap. xvi, Supreme Legislative--Section vi.
_Omnicompetence_.
[D] _Republic_, Bk. ix.
[E] _Nicomachean Ethics_, Bk. i, chap 8.
[F] Bk. x, chap. 7.
[G] This universal requirement it was which I had in view when choosing
for my first work, published in 1850, the title _Social Statics_.
[H] _On Idiocy and Imbecility_, by William W. Ireland, M. D., p. 255-6.
[I] For instances see _Fortnightly Review_, Vol. XXIV (_New Series_),
p. 712.
[J] See Essay on "The Origin and Function of Music."
[K] I do not find this passage in the second edition; but the omission
of it appears to have arisen not from any change of view, but because
it did not naturally come into the recast form of the argument which
the section contains.
[L] Most of these quotations I make from Dr. Bain's _Mental and Moral
Science_.
* * * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a
predominant preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not
changed.
Simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unpaired
quotation marks were retained.
Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained.
There are two Section 14's, 22's and 105's; and no Section 16.
Page 94: "pharynx" was misprinted as "phayrnx".; changed here.
Page 111: "pouring half the night" may be a misprint for "poring".
Page 200: Missing closing quotation mark added after 'a means of
happiness?'. The text from this was quoted ends in a period, not a
question mark.
Page 226: "this all all-important factor" was printed with the word
"all" duplicated and was not corrected.