_The Monist_, two criteria of ethics, (1) that which promotes the
life-totality, and (2) that which produces a continuous and permanent
state of pleasurable feelings. These two criteria happen to come in
conflict. John Stuart Mill calls attention to the fact that a well
fed pig is more satisfied than man and a jolly fool is happier than
Socrates. When Professor Höffding considers the state of man preferable
to that of a pig, while granting that the latter, and not the former,
enjoys a continuous state of pleasurable feelings, when he similarly
prefers the doleful disposition of a sombre philosopher to the empty
merriness of a happy fool, he does in my opinion unquestionably
surrender the second criterion in favor of the first.
Professor Höffding's present explanation of the subject does not
satisfy me. The main point of my criticism, it seems to me, has not
been answered, and the difficulty is not overcome. Professor Höffding
declares that the strong desire for activity, development, and progress
does not exist at all stages. It is itself a consequence of development
and progress (p. 537). This, it may be granted, explains why a
civilised society cannot help developing workers that plod and toil,
finding no satisfaction unless they plod and toil; but it does not
explain why (if after all the criterion of our ethical judgment remains
happiness or the continuous state of pleasurable feelings) their state
is preferable to that of indolent and happy savages.
Professor Höffding says:
"_If_ it could be proved that increasing pain followed
necessarily on all advancement of civilisation ... in that
case it would be impossible to combine civilisation and
welfare" (i. e. a continuous state of pleasurable feelings).
Well, _if_ that be so,—as Professor Höffding himself in the comparison
of man to a pig and of Socrates to a fool has actually conceded to be
true,—if we stand between the dilemma of civilisation and welfare, or
in other words if we have the choice only between a higher stage of
life and a happier state of existence, which is preferable? That which
Professor Höffding considers as preferable is his true criterion of
what he calls good. The other one holds only so long as it agrees with
his true and final criterion, so long as it does not come in conflict
with it.
Suppose we select as the final criterion of ethics not the growth and
development of the life-totality, but that of procuring to the greatest
number of men, as much as possible, a continuous state of pleasurable
feelings,—what will be the outcome of it? Can we suppose that, if
these two principles collide, we shall be able to stop growth? Can we
expect to overcome nature and to curtail natural evolution so as to
bring about a more favorable balance between our pleasures and pains?
If we do, we shall soon find out that we have reckoned without our host.
A conflict between civilisation and welfare, (i. e. between natural
evolution and our pleasurable feelings,) would not discontinue
civilisation as Professor Höffding supposes, it would rather produce a
change in what we have to consider as welfare. We _have to_ be pleased
with the development of our race according to the laws of nature, and
those who are displeased might just as well commit suicide at once,
for they will go to the wall, they will disappear from the stage of
life. Those alone will survive who are pleased with that which the laws
of nature demand.
Our pleasurable feelings are subjective, nature and the laws of
evolution are objective. The criterion of ethics is not subjective but
objective. The question is not what produces pleasurable feelings, but
what is the unalterable order of the world with which we have to be
pleased.
The question of ethics, in my mind, is not what we wish to do or what
we think we ought to do, but _what we must do_. Nature prescribes a
definite course. If we choose another one, we shall not reach our aim,
and if we reach it, it will be for a short time only.
The aim of nature is not the happiness of living beings, the aim
of nature, in the realm of organised life, is growth, development,
evolution. Pleasures and pains are phases in the household of life,
they are not life's aim. Experience shows that in reaching a higher
stage we acquire an additional sensibility for both, for new pleasures
and new pains. The pleasures of human existence in comparison with
those of animals have been as much intensified and increased as the
pains. The ratio has on the average remained about the same and it has
rarely risen in favor of pleasures. Rather the reverse takes place:
the higher man loses the taste of enjoying himself without losing the
sensitiveness of pain.
Ethics, as a science and from the standpoint of positivism, has to
inquire what according to the nature of things we must do. It has
to study facts and from facts it has to derive rules (the moral
prescripts) which will assist us in doing at once what we shall after
all _have to_ do. The criterion of ethics is not some standard which we
put up ourselves, the criterion of ethics is agreement with facts.
II. THE AUTHORITY OF MORAL COMMANDS.
Professor Höffding emphasises "the fact that there is not merely one
single ethical problem but many"—a fact which cannot be denied,
for there are, indeed, innumerable problems of an ethical nature.
However, we must bear in mind that all the ethical problems are closely
interconnected. The better we understand them, the more shall we
recognise that all together form one great system of problems, and that
one problem lies at the bottom of all. This one basic problem I have
called _the_ ethical problem.
The solution of the basic problem of ethics will not involve the ready
solution of all the rest, but we can be sure that it will throw light
upon any question that is of an ethical nature.
Professor Höffding recognises the importance of system in ethics. He
says:
"The systematism of ethical science is still so little
advanced that it is necessary to draw out a general outline
before we pass on to any single feature. The value of
systematism is namely this, that we are immediately enabled to
see the connection of the single questions with one another as
well as their distinctive peculiarity."
It appears almost unfair toward the present state of ethical science
when Professor Höffding adds:
"In ethics we are not yet so far advanced."
If we were not, we should do our best to advance so as to recognise the
unity of all ethical problems. We must first recognise _the_ ethical
problem, before we can with any hope of success approach the many,
which are dependent upon the one.
Which is the one basic problem of ethics?
We read in Matthew, xxi. 23:
"And when Jesus was come into the temple, the chief priests
and the elders of the people came unto him as he was teaching
and said, By what authority doest thou these things? and who
gave thee this authority?"
This question is legitimate and all our ethical conceptions must
necessarily depend upon the answer which we accept as satisfactory.
The basic problem of ethics is the foundation of ethics, it is the
justification of the ethical prescripts, it is the discovery of the
authority upon which ethical rules are based. If there were no power
that enforces a certain line of conduct, ethics in my opinion would
have no right of existence; and if any one preaches certain commands,
he is bound to give satisfactory reasons why we must obey his commands.
Professor Höffding says that ethics "starts from its own assumptions"
(p. 111). Ethics should not start from any assumptions.
If we are to come to a mutual understanding we must drop all
subjectivism, we must not study ethics from special points of view,
from the principles or standards of any individual or group of
individuals. There is not the slightest use of a person making himself
any "highest and only aim" which, it may be true, "from his point of
view can never be refuted." So long as ethics starts from assumptions
or principles, it will be no science; for truly, as Professor Höffding
says in excuse of the inability to prove principles, "The difficulty
always occurs in the enunciation of a principle that a direct
demonstration of its validity cannot be given."
The requirement of ethics is to arrive at statements of fact. Let us
build upon facts and we shall stand upon solid ground.
Ethics in order to be scientific must be based upon the objective and
unalterable order of things, upon the ascertainable data of experience,
upon the laws of nature.
Professor Höffding says:
"Religious ethics is founded on authority. Its _contents_
are the revealed commands of authority; the _feeling_ which
impels us _to pass ethical judgments_ is the fear or reverence
or love with which men are filled in the presence of divine
authority."
Scientific ethics can in this respect not be different from religious
ethics, for it is also based upon authority. A scientific ethicist has
to proceed like any other naturalist; he must observe the course of
events and attempt to discover the laws in accordance with which the
events take place. These laws are no less unalterable than any other
natural laws, and we may appropriately call them the natural laws of
ethics. The moral commands of ethical teachers have been derived,
either instinctively or with a clear scientific insight, from the
natural laws of ethics. The authority of the natural laws of ethics
has been decked out by different religious teachers with more or less
mythological tinsel or wrapped in mystic darkness; for practical
purposes it remained to some limited extent the same and will to some
extent always remain the same, for we shall have to obey the moral law,
be it from fear, or reverence, or love.
The unity of all the ethical problems will be preserved, however
much they may be differentiated. Indeed Professor Höffding in his
enumeration sufficiently indicates their interconnection. He speaks
of (1) the motive principle of judgment, (2) the test-principle of
judgment, and (3) of the motive to action. Whatever difference he makes
between these three terms, it is obvious that whether and how far
judgments, tests, or motives are sound will depend upon their agreement
with the authority of the natural law of ethics. The pedagogic problem
is also connected with the ethical problem because upon our solution
of the latter will directly depend the aim and indirectly also the
method of education. Such complex motives as "ambition or the instinct
of acquisition" will become "the means of attaining to true ethical
self-assertion" in the degree proportional to the elements they contain
which will strengthen our efforts of setting us at one with the natural
law of ethics.
To sum up: The natural law of ethics has to be derived from facts like
all other natural laws. The natural law of ethics is the authority upon
which all moral commands are based, and agreement with the natural law
of ethics is the final criterion of ethics.
III. ETHICS AND WELFARE.
I have no objection to an ethics of welfare; on the contrary, I
consider every ethics as an ethics of welfare. My objection to
Professor Höffding's ethics is solely directed against his definition
of welfare as "a continuous state of pleasurable feelings." Welfare is
according to my terminology that state of things which is in accord
with the natural law of ethics, and it so happens that welfare must as
a rule not only be bought, but also constantly maintained with many
pains, troubles, anxieties, and sacrifices. It is true that upon the
whole there may be a surplus of happiness and of satisfaction, if not
of pleasures; but the surplus of happiness (important though it is)
does not constitute that which is morally good in welfare. Morally good
(the characteristic feature of the ethical idea of welfare) is that
which is in accord with the natural law of ethics.
If the term "utility" were defined by Utilitarians in the sense
in which I define welfare, I should also have no objection to
utilitarianism. The Utilitarians, however, define their theory as
"the Greatest Happiness Principle," and if "useful" is taken in its
ordinary sense as that which is profitable or advantageous, it makes of
utilitarianism an ethics of expediency.
IV. FEELINGS AND JUDGMENTS.
The fundamental difference between Professor Höffding and myself, and
as it seems to me his πρῶτον ψεῦδος, lies in his definition of ethical
judgments. He says:
"Ethical judgments, judgments concerning good and bad, in
their simplest form are expressions of feeling, and never
lose that character however much influence clear and reasoned
knowledge may acquire with respect to them."
I am very well aware of the fact that all thinking beings are first
feeling beings. Thought cannot develop in the absence of feeling.
Without feeling there is no thought; but thought is not feeling, and
feeling is not thought.[131] By thought I understand the operations
that take place among representative feelings, and the essential
feature of these feelings is not whether they are pleasurable or
painful, but that they are correct representations. Judgments are
perhaps the most important mental operations. There are logical
judgments, legal judgments, ethical judgments, etc. In none of them is
the feeling element of mental activity of any account. That which makes
of them judgments is the reasoning or the thought-activity. Whether a
judgment is correct or not does not depend upon the feeling that may be
associated with it, but it depends upon the truth of its several ideas
and the propriety of their connection.
[131] See the chapter "The Nature of Thought" in _The Soul of
Man_, p. 354.
A judgment, be it logical, juridical, ethical, or any other, is the
more liable to be wrong, the more we allow the feeling element to play
a part in it. Judgments swayed by strong feelings become biassed; they
can attain to the ideal of truth only by an entire elimination of
feeling.[132]
[132] Professor Höffding says: "The feeling of pleasure is the
only psychological criterion of health and power of life."
Every physician knows the insufficiency of this criterion.
Many consumptives declare that they feel perfectly well even a
few hours before their death.
Ethics in which the feeling element is the main spring of action, is
called sentimentalism. Sentimental ethics have no more right to exist
than a sentimental logic or a sentimental jurisprudence.
The philosophy of Clärchen in "Egmont" appears to be very strong
sentimentalism, and I do not believe that her demeanor can be set up
as an example for imitation. Her love happiness is an intoxication.
She vacillates between two extremes, now _himmelhoch jauchzend_ and
now _zum Tode betrübt_, and her life ends in insanity.
To consider ethical or any other judgments as feelings, and to explain
their nature accordingly, seems to me no better than to speak of
concepts as consisting of vowels and consonants, and to explain the
nature of conceptual thought from the sounds of the letters. We cannot
speak without uttering sounds, but the laws of speech or of grammar
have nothing to do with sound and cannot be explained in terms of
sound. When we think and judge, we are most assuredly feeling, but
the feeling is of no account, and whether the feeling is pleasurable,
or painful, or indifferent, has nothing to do whatever with the
correctness or the ethical value of judgments.
V. PLEASURE AND PAIN.
It is very strange that, so far as I am aware, no ethicist who bases
ethics upon the Happiness Principle has ever investigated the nature
of pleasure and pain. It is generally assumed that pleasure is an
indication of growth and pain of decay, but it has never been proved,
and after a careful consideration of this theory I have come to the
conclusion that it is based upon an error. Growth is rarely accompanied
with pleasure and decay is mostly painless.
Optimistic philosophers look upon pleasure as positive and pain as
negative, while the great pessimist Schopenhauer turns the tables and
says pleasure is negative and pain positive.
An impartial consideration of the subject will show that both pleasure
and pain are positive. Pain is felt whenever disturbances take place,
pleasure is felt whenever wants are satisfied, and unsatisfied wants
are perhaps the most prominent among the disturbances that produce
pain.[133]
[133] See the chapter "Pleasure and Pain" in _The Soul of
Man_, p. 338.
Professor Höffding says:
"I agree with Dr. Carus that "this world of ours is not
a world suited to the taste of a pleasure-seeker," if we
understand by pleasure passive sensual enjoyment, an enjoyment
which is not united with the rest and nourishment with which
not only an immediate pleasurable feeling is connected, but
whereby power is also gathered for continued endeavor."
When I say that this world of ours is not a world suited to the taste
of the pleasure-seeker, I do not restrict the meaning of pleasure to
"passive sensual enjoyment," but to all kinds of pleasure. There are
also intellectual and artistic voluptuaries who sacrifice anything,
even the performance of duty, to their pleasure, which I grant is far
superior to any kind of passive sensual enjoyment. The pursuit of
pleasure is not wrong in itself; but it is not ethical either. Ethics
in my opinion has nothing to do either with my own pleasures or with
the pleasures of anybody else. The object of ethics is the performance
of duty; and the main duty of man is the performance of that which he
needs must do according to the laws of nature, to let his soul grow and
expand, and to develop to ever higher and nobler aims.
VI. PLEASURABLE FEELINGS AS AN ETHICAL CRITERION.
I know of a French teacher who has an excellent French pronunciation
and speaks with perfect accuracy, but whenever he is asked to give
a rule which may serve as a guide and a help to correct grammer and
elocution, he says: "The chief rule in French is euphony."—"Exactly!
But the same rule holds good in a certain sense for all languages."—"O
no," he says, "the German is harsh and the English is tongue-breaking;
only in French is the supreme law euphony."—"Now for instance," we
venture to object, "you say _la harpe_ and not _l'arpe_; you pronounce
the _ai_ different in different words you say _j'ai_, but you say _il
fait_ and you have again a different pronunciation of the _ai_ in _nous
faisons_." He replies, "To pronounce _j'aî_, or as the Germans say
_chaî_ would be barbarous. To say _l'arpe_, instead of _la harpe_ is
simply ridiculous."—"The question is," we continued in our attempts
to understand him, "what is euphonious to the ear of an educated
Frenchman?"—"Well," he says, "the ear will tell you. That which jars
on the ear is wrong. To say _quat'_ instead of _quatre_, or _vot'_
instead of _votre_, is wrong, it is vulgar. Why? it jars on the ear."
This method of teaching French appears to me a good illustration of
our objection to the happiness principle of ethics. It is perfectly
true that instances of immorality jar on the feelings of ethically
trained minds. Why? They have become accustomed to them and look upon
them as barbarous. Ungrammatical expressions and such pronunciations
as do not agree with the spirit of a language are suppressed by those
who recognise them as incongruous elements. Mistakes jar on their ears
because they are incorrect, but they are not incorrect because they jar.
Oatmeal is a favorite dish among the Scotch. If you ask them why they
eat it, they will most likely tell you, because it has an agreeable
taste. But why do they like it? Because they have through generations
grown accustomed to a dish which is conducive to health. Most of the
dishes that are wholesome have an agreeable taste to a non-corrupted
tongue. But agreeable taste for that reason cannot be considered as
the supreme rule in selecting our menu. Agreeable taste is in cases of
sickness a very unreliable guide and it is no criterion for a wholesome
dinner. Surely the ethics of eating could not be based on agreeable
taste.
The pleasurable feeling that is perceived in the satisfaction of hunger
through appropriate food or in the satisfaction of any want, is not the
bedrock of fact to which we can dig down; it is in itself a product
of custom, of inherited habits, and other circumstances; and it can
the less be used as a criterion because it varies greatly with the
slightest change of its conditions.
Liberty is generally and rightly considered as a good, even though the
slave may have and very often actually has enjoyed more happiness than
the freed man. Stupidity is considered as an evil, although it inflicts
no direct pains and may be the source of innumerable pleasures insipid
in the view of others, but delightful to the jolly fool. Professor
Höffding quotes from Waitz that the Indian does not progress because
he "lives a happy life." Unhappiness is the cause of progress. We look
down upon the Fuegians and upon the indolent South American tribe
described by Humboldt. But have they not reached the aim of ethics, if
happiness be that aim? Professor Höffding says in explanation of their
condition:
"That which would make such a life unendurable for us, _the
strong desire for activity, development, and progress_, this
desire does not exist at such stages."
If that is so, our strong desire for activity should be denounced as
the source of evil. It would be ethical in that case, as some labor
unions and trusts actually propose, to stop, or at least, to impede
further progress. The attempt of the Jesuits in Paraguay, which to
some extent was an unequivocal success, to rule the people through a
spiritual dependence satisfying all their wants and keeping them in
perfect contentment, cannot be condemned from that principle of welfare
which defines welfare as a continuous state of pleasurable feelings.
I can see how a man can be induced to submit to a moment of pain in
order to escape more pain in the future, but I cannot see on what
ground one man can be requested to sacrifice himself to suffer pain
or to forego his pleasures in order that a dozen or a hundred men may
have a jolly time. It appears to me that a greater error has never been
pronounced than that of making "the greatest happiness of the greatest
number" the maxim of ethics.
For the same reason that prevents us from regarding the principle of
happiness as the aim of ethics or as its test and criterion, we cannot
consider self-humiliation, contrition, misery, and the abandonment of
gayety and merriness as moral or meritorious. Joy and grief are in
themselves as little wrong as they are virtuous. Any ethics the end
of which is a morose austerity, simply because it makes life dreary,
is at least as much mistaken as a philosophy which finds the purpose
of life in mere pleasure, be it ever so vain, simply because it is
pleasure. To pursue happiness or renounce it, either may sometimes be
moral and sometimes immoral. Again, to undergo pain and to inflict
pain on others, or to avoid pain, either may also be moral or immoral.
The criterion of ethics will not be found in the sphere of feelings.
Morality cannot be measured by and it cannot be expressed in pleasures
and pains.
VII. THE SUPERINDIVIDUAL AND SOCIETY.
Professor Höffding criticises my view of "that superindividual
soul-life which we call society," as based upon a mystical
personification of society.