By RUDOLF EUCKEN
Senior Professor of Philosophy in the University of Jena
The Truth of Religion
The Life of the Spirit
Religion and Life
Ethics and Modern Thought
* * * * *
Ethics and Modern Thought
A Theory of Their Relations
The Deem Lectures
Delivered in 1913 at New York University
By
Rudolf Eucken
Professor of Philosophy, University of Jena
Translated from the German Manuscript by
Margaret von Seydewitz
G. P. Putnam's Sons
New York and London
The Knickerbocker Press
1913
COPYRIGHT, 1913
BY
RUDOLF EUCKEN
The Knickerbocker Press, New York
PREFACE
These lectures, delivered at New York University from February 20th till
March 1, 1913, appeal less to students and philosophers than to the
cultured public at large. I take this opportunity of expressing my
sincere gratitude to the New York University, and especially to
Chancellor Elmer E. Brown, for all the kindness and interest shown to me
during my stay in New York.
RUDOLF EUCKEN.
JENA, June, 1913.
CONTENTS
PAGE
I. THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN THE PRESENT TIME 1
II. THE ETHICAL PRINCIPLE 23
III. A DEFENCE OF THE ETHICAL PRINCIPLE 43
IV. EVOLUTION OF THE ETHICAL PRINCIPLE 63
V. MORALITY AND RELIGION 87
VI. THE PRESENT STATUS OF MORALITY 107
I
THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN THE PRESENT TIME
In former times, nothing seemed more plausible and more certain than
morality. It was a tower of strength, where men sought refuge in the
midst of all the doubts and conflicts of life. This was especially the
case during the Age of Enlightenment. Men were beginning to believe less
absolutely in the religion handed down to them, but they clung all the
more to morality. Metaphysical speculation and theoretical endeavours to
reveal the innermost essence of things encountered growing opposition,
yet morality was welcomed as something superior to all complications,
and valuable to all. It was held to be the pivot of Archimedes, which
gives stability to the whole of life.
In our days morality has ceased to be a matter of such unquestionable
certainty, and has been drawn into the wave of disintegration which is
passing over our minds. Formerly the scientific definition and accurate
conception of morality were matters of contention; but it is now the
fundamental idea of morality that is questioned. Many of our
contemporaries are of opinion that the revelations of modern science and
the claims of modern life have destroyed the foundations of morality and
made it untenable in the old sense. Morality in the old sense demands
dissociation of our aspirations from our own personal interest, and
devotion to something that is esteemed higher; whenever an action that
appears good is seen to proceed from selfish motives, it can no longer
claim any moral value. There is a widespread tendency in modern life, to
question the possibility of such detachment from the _Ego_, and to
acknowledge the coercion exercised over man by his instinct of
self-preservation. Emancipation from this restraint is not even
considered desirable, for constant strife and competition seem
necessary to life and progress, and a softening of this strife would
inevitably reduce the energy of life.
Morality further demands independence and spontaneity of action. An
action performed under the pressure of external coercion or mechanical
habit, loses immediately its moral character. Now such independence and
spontaneity are not possible apart from some kind of free choice, yet
this would contradict the law of causality, which in the present age is
generally considered to rule the whole of reality. In man's soul, the
supremacy of this law of causality is strengthened by our growing
insight into the power of heredity and of social environment. Yet
morality in the old sense stands and falls with man's power of
spontaneous and independent decision.
It is difficult also for morality to retain in modern life the position
and estimation it formerly enjoyed. It used to be invested with unique
significance, and placed high above all other manifestations of the
inner life. This conviction found its strongest expression at times of
great historical import. We all remember the words of Jesus: "What shall
it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own
soul?" The same conviction is expressed in philosophical language by the
greatest antique philosopher and the greatest modern philosopher: Plato
and Kant. Plato says: "All the gold on the earth and under the earth is
less precious than virtue." Kant says: "If righteousness should perish,
it would not be worth while for men to inhabit the earth."
But this conviction of the absolute supremacy of the moral task requires
an inner gradation of life, for which modern conditions offer no scope.
For modern life subordinates all aspiration and endeavour to the aim of
enhancing the process of life. Every action is valued as a means to this
end; and morality could only hold its own as an instrument of human
welfare. But such degradation of morality would mean annihilation of
morality. The present time is not entirely dominated by such a movement
against morality, only a few currents of thought are so absolute in
their negation of ethical claims. But these currents could never have
attained the strength and expansion they undoubtedly exhibit, if in our
day morality were more securely established and more distinctly
formulated. It is the want of union in moral ideals (never before so
strongly marked) which gives added power to the enemies of morality.
There are to-day no less than four kinds of morality, often crossing and
opposing each other, which claim men's allegiance. These are:
Religious Morality,
The Morality of Reason or of immanent idealism,
The Morality of Work,
Social Morality.
Religious Morality and the Morality of Reason have come down to us from
past ages, and grow out of an inner world of thought. The Morality of
Work and Social Morality are specific results of the present time,
growing out of work in a visible world of realities. The two older forms
of morality form an antithesis to the two newer forms, as will hereafter
be seen.
The most effectual kind of morality is still the religious one--for us,
the morality associated with Christianity, the religion of ethical
redemption. Christianity, which is founded on a holy will superior to
the world, exalts moral action far above arbitrary human choice and
human aim. It completely severs moral action from all natural
inclination, dissociates it from all external performance, and gives it
a purely spiritual character. It supplies a most powerful impulse to
action, by connecting man's destiny with his attitude to his moral
obligations. The awakening and ennobling power inherent in Christianity
was not confined to individuals, but was embodied in a large section of
the human race, creating a spiritual atmosphere which still acts
powerfully on individual souls, even if they themselves are not
conscious of it. Religious morality still continues to influence us in
this way. All other kinds of morality could not be as effectual as they
are, were they not constantly supplemented and deepened by religious
morality.
And yet we cannot ignore the fact that in our day the supremacy of
religious morality is often contested. The world of religion no longer
encompasses man as a matter of course, and this also weakens its moral
influence. At the same time many objections are raised against the
nature and demands of religious morality. Owing to the closer connection
between man's endeavour and his environment and to the accentuation of
the struggle for existence, this kind of morality appears too mild, too
soft, too subjective, and there is often a desire for a sterner and more
virile kind. Religious ethics do not seem to have sufficient latitude to
transform the whole of life. We can therefore understand the widespread
desire for something which can sufficiently supplement religious ethics.
At all periods of higher civilisation, religious morality has been
supplemented and completed by the morality of reason, which was
developed above all by the philosophers, from the Stoics down to Kant
and Fichte. Here morality does not proceed from a superior and divine
will, but from man's own reasonable nature. This nature seems to demand
recognition of a universal law, and voluntary submission to it; only
then does man bring his own being to perfection. The morality arising
herefrom is strong and manly; it incites man to a proud independence of
spirit, and exalts him far above everyday life. To this morality of
reason we owe the scientific development of the moral world of thought,
and the distinct formulation of conceptions like Duty and Conscience. By
means of such conceptions, the morality of reason also influences our
own time, without however taking the lead, as it did during the Age of
Enlightenment. The idea of reason as the sure foundation of our
spiritual life is no longer universally accepted, and has little
influence on the man of to-day. He is too fully conscious of his
subordination to the world of sense, of which he is a member, to be able
to enfranchise himself completely from it, and to assert his own
superior power. The rationalistic conception of life reckons with
strong, self-centred personalities, who, as we know, do not abound in
our time.
Morality could not be in close touch with the movements and problems of
the present day, if--either as religious or as rational morality--it
were inseparable from belief in an invisible world. But the latest
development of life supplies morality with valuable motives derived from
the visible world, and even creates new specific forms of morality. On
the one hand, the impulse comes from modern work; on the other hand,
from modern society. In both cases, we have forces that were always at
work, but that gain considerable significance from the conditions of
modern life.
All really earnest work is directed towards some object which it seeks
to penetrate; it impels us to value the object for its own sake, and to
treat it according to its own requirements. Man is thus exalted above
his own personal opinion and inclination. Only in modern times has work
reached its full development as a factor of education and of moral
culture. For work has now become more and more independent of separate
individuals; it is becoming a concern common to all mankind, and it
forms its own great complexes. Such a complex is modern science. It is
no longer dependent on individuals, but has formed a fabric of its own.
In accordance with the development it has attained, science dictates to
individuals the channels and methods of their work, presents problems to
be solved, and indicates the means of their solution. The individual
works in vain, if he detaches himself from the movement of the whole.
His enrolment in the movement of the whole imparts to life a distinctly
ethical character. For the individual must subordinate himself
completely to the demands of the whole; he must repress everything
bearing upon his own will and desire; he must feel that his own efforts
are part of the great sum of human endeavour, the promotion of which
must be his highest satisfaction. Single workers come and go, but
through the work of generations the proud edifice of science is ever
growing. As Bacon says: "_Multi pertransibunt et augebitur scientia_."
(Many will pass by, and science will grow.)
What applies to science is equally true of the other provinces of life.
In modern times, mighty complexes are everywhere springing up, which
encompass individuals with their superior power. We see this above all
in technical and industrial work, but also in state organisation, in
education with its schools and so forth. All these finally unite in the
comprehensive conception of civilisation and culture,--in the idea of
man's supremacy over the world by means of his work.
It is evident that a strong moral force is here engendered. Without
this ethical factor, without a constant enrolment and subordination,
modern civilisation could never have reached its present development.
Yet we cannot deny that this morality of work has inner limitations. The
technical side of work does indeed repress and even destroy all
individual will; but it is an open question in what temper the work is
done, whether from love to the work or from petty and selfish motives.
It is quite possible for a petty and narrow frame of mind to be
accompanied by the greatest technical skill. Further work spurs on
towards achievement, and the worker is judged by what he achieves. What
becomes of his inner life, of his whole personality, is a matter of
indifference. Here we are only parts of a structure, and are nothing at
all in ourselves. This must become so more and more in proportion as
work is specialised, and vitalises an ever smaller part of the
individual's powers. Moreover the union of men which in this direction
takes place, is only confined to their common work. However closely
connected they may be through their work, their individual principles
and convictions can be very different, if not absolutely hostile. It is,
in our day, above all, the social problem, which divides men into
hostile factions. In one special direction--that of work--there is an
ethical development of life; but we cannot base on it an inner entity of
right and humanity. The morality thus developed is cold and impersonal;
it lacks inner warmth, and cannot appeal to the whole personality.
In this respect, social morality is infinitely superior to the morality
of work. For social morality proceeds from the immediate relation of man
to man. Here also, something old and familiar acquires a new form and
stronger influence. It was an old conviction that man could only develop
in connection with his fellow-men, towards whom his activity was mainly
directed. But what has re-cast the idea of society in a new mould, is
the modern doctrine that men are not united by their common relation to
an invisible world--ruled either by a Divine Being or by an
all-pervading Reason--but by their actual living together in the realm
of experience. This modern doctrine points out that individuals not only
meet during the course of their life, but that they are interdependent
from the very beginning,--that union and life with others is a
fundamental necessity for every human being. In developing this idea,
modern sociology shows, by means of innumerable statistics, how the
nature and welfare of the individual depends upon the condition of the
whole. It tries to prove that all progress--even for the individual--is
inseparable from the amelioration of the community at large; such
amelioration therefore becomes the main object of endeavour. Modern
sociology at the same time advocates the idea of a common
responsibility, a solidarity of all human life and action. Strong
motives are thus offered to the individual to direct his activity,
beyond his own personal interest, towards the welfare of all, and to
find in work for the welfare of others--in "altruistic" action--the
highest value of life.
The "social" ethics thus developed are further enhanced by the growing
conviction that the traditional form of life in the community is
capable--nay needful--of fundamental changes. Formerly the structure of
society was above all aristocratic in character. The conduct of life was
in the hands of a small minority. They alone acquired full development
of all their powers and full possession of earthly goods, which the rest
could only enjoy in part and through the agency of the favoured few.
This division of mankind appeared to be too firmly established by the
divine will or by a mysterious destiny for human endeavour to try and
alter it. The modern man, in the consciousness of his power, by no means
considers these things incapable of change. For him, it is a sublime
task to suppress such distinctions, and to let "all that bears human
features" (Fichte) participate in the work and enjoyment of life.
We can here discuss neither the possibility of solving this problem in
all its bearings, nor the complications resulting therefrom. But we
cannot deny the strong ethical stimulus of such a movement. It has
resulted in an eager desire to strengthen the weak, to raise aspiring
spirits, to oppose injustice, to eradicate suffering as far as possible,
and to increase the enjoyment of life. In all this, there is much warmth
and vigour, a strong feeling of responsibility, and recognition of the
rights of others. No other ethical force so strongly influences the men
of to-day, as the social idea; we see this in legislation, in education,
in every relation of man to man. This idea counteracts egoism, and
produces such a wealth of humane action, as was hardly ever witnessed at
any period of the world's history.
But even here, in spite of so much that is admirable, inner limitations
are evident. Life and morality are concentrated on activity for others.
But this activity is more for man's external welfare than for that of
his soul,--more for the conditions of life than for life itself. Inner
problems find too often only a secondary consideration and the
personality as a whole is apt to be neglected. This morality of social
activity believes in the existence of goodwill and its growth by means
of external activity, and takes human virtue for granted. But it has
nothing to offer that could allay the inner conflicts, or could overcome
the dark, wild, and passionate element in man's soul. Nor does this kind
of morality sufficiently realise what complications and passions are
inseparable from life in the community: the strife for power and
supremacy, the vanity and unreality which arise and rapidly spread among
its members. Social morality shows a very optimistic conception of man,
which is often contradicted by experience. However great therefore the
merits of social morality may be in one special direction, it takes up
the problem too superficially, and offers no firm foundation for
morality, which it presupposes rather than creates.
Morality to-day thus appears to be accompanied by much confusion and
many complications. There is no lack of separate developments, but these
cross and oppose each other. What one kind of morality takes to be its
chief source of strength, appears to another to be mere weakness. The
inner and spiritual character of the older forms is condemned by the
younger forms as a subjective illusion, while the unremitting activity
of the latter seem to their opponents to be an exclusive concentration
on external work. Life as a whole has become uncertain to us in its
deepest aspects; and we are no longer satisfied with the moral impulses
coming from the life around us. We hesitate between absolutely different
kinds of morality, which can only fully develop their individual
characteristics by injuring one another; this must inevitably weaken the
influence of morality on the whole of life. At the same time, movements
hostile to morality encounter less opposition, and gain ground in spite
of their inherent superficiality. Morality, once an undoubted
possession of mankind, has thus come to be a difficult problem; instead
of ruling over man from the height of its superiority, it seems now to
depend on his opinion and choice.
The condition of things resulting herefrom is becoming more and more
unendurable. If morality is weakened, then life is robbed of a strong
impulse, an ennobling power, and a dominant aim; it is in danger of
inner insignificance and disintegration. The salt of life is then
lacking, which alone can keep it fresh and healthy, and with all its
outer brilliancy, it is threatened with inner decay. If we are to resist
this danger with all our might, then science must help to overcome the
uncertainty and want of concentration so characteristic of our time, and
to gain full recognition of morality as a whole. To do this, it is above
all necessary to find some point of view whence we can successfully
combat this disintegration.
We shall therefore have to consider first of all how such a point of
view may be attained.
II
THE ETHICAL PRINCIPLE
The intricate situation of to-day necessarily incites us to reflection.
We must consider our life as a whole; we must ask ourselves whether
human existence comprises various kinds and gradations of life, and
whether a task thus arises which embraces all man's endeavour. There can
be no doubt that human life is not confined to one single plane,--that
all variety of endeavour does not easily unite to form a definite
entity, but that heterogeneous elements meet and mingle in man.
Man at first appears to be part of nature, of the world of sense,
subject to its laws and impulses. Dim and unreasonable instincts pervade
man's soul with compelling force. Our conceptions grow out of sense
impressions, and form at first the purely mechanical concatenation
which we term "association," while all our efforts are directed towards
individual self-preservation. In all this, man is entirely within the
limitations of nature. Yet though this natural life at first
predominates, it does not represent the whole of our life. We become
aware of new features, which we characterise as "spiritual." We see how
man grows independent of his environment, and strives to subdue it from
without and within. By thought he frees himself from the shackles of his
environment, and asserts himself against the whole world; at the same
time he is driven back to the world, and feels impelled to fathom it and
to make it his own by personal experience. His actions do not always
remain a mere part of nature's concatenations. He can detach himself
from all cohesion. In unbridled egoism he can subordinate every event
and action to his own well-being; or he can absorb into himself all that
at first existed beside him and apart from him, and that often appeared
hostile, and can thus manifest boundless love and sympathy. His natural
instinct of self-preservation will then appear too small and
insignificant; he can even come to feel its narrow restrictions as
intolerable.
If we pass from the individual to the whole of mankind, we see in
civilisation and culture a new form of life opposed to mere nature. For
man is no longer swayed and ruled by what assails him from without, but
he confronts it with new aims and ideals. He judges and weighs; he
approves and rejects; he forms new complexes, like those of state
organisation and of science. In all this, man is the representative of a
new and specific kind of life; he manifests an independence unknown to
nature.
This new life differs from nature and from what may be attained on the
basis of nature, not only in single characteristics, but in all its
manifestations and even in its fundamental essence. Nature forms a
tissue of separate elements, which come into reciprocal action but lack
all inner cohesion. Great complexes are thus formed, but no combination
amounts to real cohesion: there is no inner whole, and no life
proceeding from such an inner entity.
All life grows out of contact with the environment; therefore
intellectual participation is indissolubly bound to the world of sense.
In this life of nature, the intellect can create no conceptions
independent of sense impressions, and action cannot free itself from the
power of natural impulse. All inner values can here be nothing more than
an accessory and reminiscence of what reaches us from without.
We see something essentially different, wherever spiritual life
develops. Here life is not decomposed into a multitude of separate
particles, but inner cohesions are formed, which embrace and dominate
all achievement of individual beings. This is especially the case when
human thought aspires towards Truth. Every individual has his own sum of
conceptions and his own special associations; but he does not possess a
truth of his own. All search for truth is based on the conviction that
something must be acquired which is common to all men, and which
embraces and governs them all. Aspiration thus extends far beyond
separate individuals. We have here not a disconnected mass of assertion
and dogma; all is gathered into a well ordered cohesion, and all
separate efforts result in progression to the whole. Every kind of
intellectual endeavour presents a similar situation. Thus the Good and
the Beautiful are not values confined to single individuals; every man
striving after them, only contributes towards the sum of common
endeavour, and what he wins for himself is at the same time a gain for
all. Aspiration is not confined to a limited number of separate results,
but the manifestation of a great whole is sought for: a comprehensive
realm of the good and the beautiful.
Once the mind is thus concentrated on the whole, greater spiritual
independence inevitably ensues. For it is necessary to rise above the
sense impression and constantly to assert the autonomy of the soul, if
aspiration from the whole and to the whole is to be successfully
developed. From being a mere accessory, the soul now becomes in all
respects a source of independent life. In science ideas gain a
significance of their own, apart from the impressions of sense; they
develop their own laws, and react with transforming power on what they
have absorbed, as we see in the case of mathematics. Our own mind
supplies the forms in which we shape our world. Feeling also frees
itself from sense impressions. Sense enjoyment no longer suffices for
man's happiness. His relation to other human beings does not remain
confined to external contact; pity and love can embrace the whole of
mankind, as is proved by the great religions. We can no longer doubt
man's capacity of aspiring to values far beyond external possessions;
and his inner life, the development of his own individual personality
may become a matter of paramount importance to him.
But this inner life, with all its distinct manifestations, can cope
successfully with the outer world and its forcible inroads, only by
developing an inner realm which it extends to an independent world of
its own. This does in reality take place. What was at first beside us
and apart from us, can be transferred to the soul without merging into
it. The antithesis between internal and external values, which at first
seemed to disintegrate life, can be overcome, if spiritual endeavour
absorbs the object and brings it into reciprocal action with spiritual
forces. Where spiritual development is at its highest, life does not
fluctuate between the subjective and objective, but unites both in
itself, brings them into reciprocal action, and develops one by means of
the other. Such a triumph over antitheses is to be seen most clearly in
the province of art. Art is not merely capable of copying external
objects as exactly as possible, or of rendering with the greatest
possible truth the feeling of the individual: really great art must
embrace both factors and blend them to a perfect unity. This is how a
real work of art is created, which then gives to life an inner expansion
and a new reality.
As in art, so also in the other provinces human life. In the mutual
relation of man to man, the spiritual phase by no means does away with
all distinctions, but it exalts us above them, and embraces them all
from a higher point of view. Individuals are not to be merged in a hazy
and colourless whole, but in rising towards a higher life an inner
communion becomes possible, within which even what is alien becomes to a
certain extent our own. This enables men to understand each other, to
put themselves in the place of one another, to find themselves in
others. Man acquires in such communion a vaster self, which is not
dependent on one tiny atom, but has a whole world of its own.
If scientific research is not to degenerate into barren scepticism, it
must also overcome the antithesis of the subjective and the objective.
To do this, it assimilates external objects by means of thought, and
strives to embrace at the same time both the inner man and the outer
world, developing one by means of the other.
We observe everywhere this tendency to subject everything to the
operation of spiritual forces--to create and develop an inner world.
Here all problems are confined to life itself, which is no longer
concerned with extraneous matters, but with itself alone. In this inner
world, life develops in its own way; it finds its aims and ideals in
itself, in its own perfection, in its complete triumph over the
antitheses it embraces.
How are we to interpret this new life and its origin? It cannot have
proceeded from that nature inferior to man, from which it differs even
in its most elementary fundamental forms. It cannot be a creation of man
alone, in whom--as experience proves--it is far too weak, too much
alloyed with lower and sensual elements, for a new gradation of life to
originate in him. Nothing therefore remains but to recognise in this
inward tendency a movement of the universe--a movement in which man is
privileged to participate, but which he could never engender from out of
his own nature. The recognition of such a movement completely changes
the aspect of reality. The universe now seems to embrace two planes, and
to be rising--at least as far as humanity is concerned--from one plane
to the other. A new light is cast on reality, which ceases to be a
collection of separate and non-cohesive elements, and becomes capable of
comprehensive operation and of self-concentration. We realise that what
at first appeared to be the whole of reality was only its outer aspect,
which is supplemented by the new depth revealed to us. It is only the
development of these depths that gives life its real significance;
values come into existence which lie beyond the natural instinct of
self-preservation--such values as the good, the true, and the beautiful.
Let us now see how this order of things strikes and influences man. The
new phase of life at first appears--in man--only in a few individual
operations, while his life and aspiration are still mainly determined by
nature and natural self-preservation. A certain spirituality does indeed
appear wherever there is human life, yet only as something subordinate,
as an accessory to another kind of life, but without the autonomy
necessary to a comprehensive and self-centred whole, which could develop
its own specific character. If man is to participate in the movement of
the universe and bring the spiritual into full operation in himself,
this autonomy of the spiritual life is of paramount importance. It can
only develop where a movement reaches man from the universe, embraces
him, and determines his further course. But, at the same time, man must
recognise and seize this impulse, thus taking possession of this new
life. We have seen that what used to be considered of secondary
importance, is now of paramount value. This requires a reversion of the
original order of things, a readjustment of the values of life. We have
not to realise any new achievement within a given sphere of activity, or
to further develop existing conditions; we have to acquire an
essentially new life.
The requirements thus formulated lead to a system of ethics. Its
fundamental doctrine is man's power to rise by free action to the higher
plane of cosmic life, and to develop it with all the strength of his
soul. We have shown that the new object of our endeavour is not
something unfamiliar that suddenly invades our consciousness. For it is
the working within us of some spiritual force, that exalts us above the
animal world to the status of human beings. But the spiritual life
undergoes an essential change, as soon as it acquires autonomy within
us. As long as it was held to be of secondary importance, it was chiefly
appreciated as a means towards human ends: spiritual forces were to give
us more power over external realities, and fuller enjoyment of life,
but we did not penetrate into the life of the spirit and there find a
new world. If we do this in accordance with the transformation of life
we have been considering, great results will soon appear. In science and
art, as well as in law and morality, our efforts will be accompanied by
such strength, devotion, and gladness as we never before experienced. We
shall operate with the laws and powers inherent in the things
themselves; we shall become indifferent to outer profit and success, and
shall find full satisfaction in the manifestation of genuine spiritual
life, in spite of the trials and difficulties it may offer. If the
spiritual life can thus grow towards perfection, undisturbed by human
aims, it will manifest all its values in rich and pure abundance; it
will reveal a new world, and will open up a new depth of reality. We
thus take possession of a world which exalts us far above all petty
human considerations, yet which is not alien and unfamiliar to us, but
is essentially our own life and being.
With autonomy, the spiritual life also gains more unity. As at first
manifested in human life, it is divided into a variety of separate
branches--such as art, science, law, technical knowledge--which lack all
inner cohesion and mutual understanding. If the autonomy of the
spiritual life reveals a new phase of reality, it must also form a
comprehensive whole, of which all the separate provinces are but the
various manifestations. They themselves now appear in a new light, and
every province must determine its position and significance in the
whole, and must submit to the operation of the forces proceeding from
the whole. This will give more depth and more soul to the activity in
each separate province, while all will seek to come into closer touch
and to supplement one another.
All this implies a great task for man. He is an imperfect and unfinished
being, full of contradictions. He has to seek and achieve genuine life;
he must penetrate from the sphere of effects to that of their causes;
he must recognise the great cosmic movement as a personal concern of his
own, and must thus give meaning and value to his life and aspiration.
We have here a matter of vast import. Not only must the new world be
recognised and taken possession of by the individual, but a new order of
things, valid for all humanity, must be created and triumphantly
asserted against an entirely different order of things. Instead of the
mere juxtaposition which the world of sense at first presents to us, we
must establish inner cohesion in society and history. The efforts of all
humanity must supplement the visible world, to which we remain bound, by
an invisible one, and must make of this invisible world the chief seat
of human life. While time is forever flowing onward, permanent truths
and values of life must be found, which can sustain from within all
aspiration and endeavour. We human beings must realise a higher life
within given natural conditions; and to do this, we have first to
create and establish a new order of things within our own sphere of
existence. This transforms our life into a never ending task, but also
imparts to it an incomparable greatness. While thus striving forward,
the individual must first of all submerge himself in the new world as a
whole, until he finds there his true life, his real and higher self. A
complete negation of the little _Ego_ and emancipation from it are
requisite. This does not mean that the individual is to disappear and be
absorbed by the infinite. The infinite becomes a living present at this
special point, and the individual must take possession of it and assert
it. He must also promote the forward movement of life, and must enrich
reality by the culture of a spiritual individuality, very different from
the one nature has given him. This spiritual individuality can only
develop on the basis of the spiritual life, from which it takes its aims
and standards; and it must always be in harmony with the movement of the
whole.
It is evident that all these factors have laid the foundations for a
system of ethics. As we have seen, life as a whole challenges man to a
great change, to a decision, an action, but also to unremitting work for
the establishment of a new order of things. That which gives us human
beings our pre-eminence and constitutes our innermost essence is not to
be gained without our own efforts, and pervades our life as a continuous
task. We may call the morality arising thence the Ethics of the
Spiritual Life, for the centre of life and its ruling motive lie in
man's relation to a superior spiritual life, which is at the root of his
own being and yet has to be acquired by his own action and effort.
Morality represents the principles underlying this great change.
Morality grasps the question as a whole. Morality elucidates the fact
that all the variety of work is dominated by strife for a spiritual
self, a strife which can only be successful if the original situation is
reversed.
We must now try to determine more closely what form these ethics are to
take, and whether they are able to overcome the objections which
confront every kind of morality.
III
A DEFENCE OF THE ETHICAL PRINCIPLE
Before we proceed further in the direction indicated, we must see
whether our own convictions are capable of overcoming the opposition and
impediments to morality, presented by widespread currents of
contemporary thought. Were we unable to overcome them, then all further
advance would be stamped by inner uncertainty.
The first objection was, that all human action must tend to the
preservation and advancement of the performer, so that action apart from
self-interest, as required by morality, is impossible. We are told that
man cannot be inspired and moved to action by any aim outside his own
personality, and that even where this appears to be the case, closer
examination reveals some hidden motive of self-interest. This was the
doctrine of Spinoza and is now a widespread conviction. There is
undoubtedly some truth in the fundamental idea, but it is by no means
certain that this truth is rightly applied. It is true that all
endeavour must start from the life and being of a man and reflect back
on him. Something absolutely alien would necessarily leave us cold and
indifferent; by his action man must in some way grow and gain and assert
his own inner self.
But we must ask ourselves whether the natural Ego, to which the opponent
of morality binds all human action, represents the whole of man's life,
and whether all endeavour is obliged to serve the interests of natural
self-preservation. If a man recognises any kind of spiritual activity in
its specific working, he will reject such limitation; and the more he
sees in the spiritual life a new and independent phase of reality, the
more decisively will he declare that a real self is not contained in the
natural Ego, but must first be acquired by means of the spiritual life.
In spite of all the subjective force and passion displayed in the
self-preservation of the natural Ego, this Ego and its life are without
inner significance: it plans and acts, without being absorbed and
illuminated by an inner force; it remains alien and dense.
On the spiritual plane, on the other hand, man acquires an
individuality, and is able to embrace a whole of reality, into the life
of which he submerges himself; and in developing this life, he is able
to find full satisfaction and joy. The spiritual life does indeed demand
repression, subjection, and even sacrifice of the little Ego; yet the
experience of humanity clearly proves that life thereby suffers neither
degradation nor disintegration, but rather, that it is thus strengthened
and regenerated. Life is certainly not weakened or extinguished in the
efforts to gain truth and beauty, in the activity of the scholar and the
artist, in social and philanthropic work. By enfranchisement from the
little Ego, life has gained in expansion and strength. Man is conscious
of finding his real self and of developing his innermost being in such
work, not of promoting ends outside himself. All deeper religions and
systems of philosophy have in common this requirement that man should
give up his little Ego, and they promise that from this renunciation a
new life shall be born, which is of infinitely greater meaning and value
than the old life. The movement towards spirituality is not a mere
negation, but leads to an assertion founded on the basis of negation.
Once man has found the right plane of life, and has acquired a new
individuality, the gulf between man and the universe is bridged over.
Man can then come into inner relation with reality, and can take
possession of the infinite. This is the meaning of Goethe's lines:
Und so lang du dies nicht hast,
Dieses "Stirb und Werde!"
Bist du nur ein trüber Gast
Auf der dunklen Erde.
(Till thou hearest the behest
Saying: "Death is Birth!"
Thou art but a dreary guest
On the gloomy earth.)
If this is the case, then all spiritual work contributes to the
development of a new, real self; then no blame can be attached to
morality for advocating the absolute necessity of this change, and for
recognising, in all ramifications of work, the one great task of
developing a new human individuality. Morality will not thereby weaken
and suppress the impulse of life, but will direct it into the right
channel and ennoble it. By treating man's task as a harmonious
whole--which at the same time forms part of the one great entity--it
will act as a stimulus on all the separate provinces of life. The
gravity of this ethical task is heightened by the fact, that we must
pass through a negative stage in order to reach one of positive
affirmation, and that all action which denies or obscures such negation,
remains one-sided and imperfect.
Closely allied to this first objection to morality is the second: the
assertion of the Determinists that human action is but part of an
immutable concatenation, and that the decision of the moment arises,
with inevitable necessity, from what is and what has been. This is an
old assertion, reaching back to the latter days of antiquity. It has
frequently aroused men to passion in the domain of religion. It
permeates modern philosophy, and has found classical expression in the
doctrine of Spinoza. In our day, it is often confirmed by a more careful
study of the universe. Favourable to Determinism is also our modern
insight into such forces as heredity and social environment, and our
greater knowledge of psychology. Everywhere the single atom appears as
the result of some cohesion, of which it at the same time forms part.
Closer observation only accentuates such dependence; we can no longer
consider a separate atom or moment as something absolutely self-centred,
nor can we interpret any action as really taking place suddenly. There
exists, without doubt, more cohesion and more subordination than was
formerly believed, or is often accepted even now.
However legitimate these considerations may be, it does not follow that
they exhaust all the possibilities offered by reality. If we declare
that man is completely absorbed in such concatenation, we must assume
what is by no means unassailable: that man is simply part of a given
order of things, of a natural mechanism, of a network of causality. Were
he in reality no more than this, there would be no possibility of his
own decision, no freedom of action, and consequently no morality. This
would destroy, not morality alone, but much that its opponents could not
well give up. If our life were merely part of a natural mechanism, it
would necessarily cease to be our own life; it would be only a process
realised in us without our co-operation, and our attitude to it would
resemble our attitude to our bodily functions. It is difficult to see
how we could then be made responsible by society, or how we could
ourselves feel any responsibility,--how such conceptions as those of
good and evil could come into existence and engross our attention.
Neither would there be any real present, for if there is no demand for
decision, and no room for original action, all action would, with
inevitable necessity, grow out of the past, like a flower out of its
bud, without our co-operation.
We might be able to endure such determination of our life for all time,
if the various movements could easily meet and mingle in our soul,
without any complications. But if our life contains great problems,
grave conflicts, various and often opposed planes, then we human beings,
did we submit passively and unresistingly, would be chained like
Prometheus to a pitiless rock. Determinism, if followed to its logical
conclusion, is nothing less than inner annihilation of life.
Such recognition necessarily brings us to the question whether the
hypothesis held by the Determinists is unassailable. Do we really
appertain absolutely to a given and distinctly limited existence? From
the point of view of a new plane of reality manifested by the spiritual
life, our reply must be a decided negative. As we have seen, this new
phase does not embrace us from the beginning, but must be grasped,
appropriated, and developed by us; our own decision and action are here
indispensable. Our life must indeed reckon with certain given factors;
we must recognise the powerful influence of heredity and environment.
Our individuality is determined for us by nature; we cannot in all
things remould ourselves as we would wish to do; we are on all sides
encompassed by fate. But man is not entirely at the mercy of this fate.
The spiritual life which can grow up in him gives him a new, spontaneous
source of life; he can originate something new, something entirely his
own, and can oppose his own action to fate.
Our life thus becomes a struggle between freedom and fate; and to this
struggle it chiefly owes its expansion and greatness. The idea of
development is therefore not applicable to the progression of human
life. There is no inevitable sequence on a well established basis and in
one definite direction; later results are not simply determined by what
has gone before; one thing does not follow another naturally and easily,
but various elements meet and clash. Time after time, we are in danger
of losing what we seemed to have won; over and over again, we must climb
to the summit of life. But this struggle constantly calls forth new
powers. We see that there is much more in us than appeared at first
sight, or than we ourselves were wont to believe. Great shocks and
strong emotions often produce new convictions or set free new forces
within us. It is, above all, suffering which rouses and regenerates,
which teaches us to see and cultivate the deepest that is in us. What
hitherto seemed to constitute our whole being, now proves to be but a
single stratum, which it is quite possible to transcend.
The real man is only a part, a section of the possible man. The
possibilities dormant in us are an integral part of our being; and these
possibilities enable us to attain something higher and greater. On this
power of inner growth rests the confidence of those who, while
recognising the evils of this life, fight bravely and hopefully on the
side of progress. The statesman wishing to raise his people from within,
builds on such a capacity for inner growth, and believes in the
realisation of new possibilities; so does the educator in his efforts to
cultivate and ennoble men's souls. Art and religion are ever at work, in
order to discover new possibilities and bring them home to man. Were it
not for such new possibilities and the regenerative power of man, his
life could retain nothing of its youthful vigour, and would lapse into
stagnation and senility. The same would apply to human civilisation: it
would drift away from simplicity and truth, and would become more and
more artificial.