THE NATURE OF THE MORAL EMOTIONS (_concluded_)
WE have seen that moral disapproval is a form of resentment, and that
moral approval is a form of retributive kindly emotion. It still
remains for us to examine in what respects these emotions differ from
kindred non-moral emotions--disapproval from anger and revenge,
approval from gratitude--in other words, what characterises them as
specifically _moral_ emotions.
It is a common opinion, held by all who regard the intellect as the
source of moral concepts, that moral emotions only arise in
consequence of moral judgments, and that, in each case, the character
of the emotion is determined by the predicate of the judgment. We are
told that, when the intellectual process is completed, when the act in
question is definitely classed under such or such a moral category,
then, and only then, there follows instantaneously a feeling of either
approbation or disapprobation as the case may be.[1] When we hear of a
murder, for instance, we must discern the wrongness of the act before
we can feel moral indignation at it.
[Footnote 1: Fleming, _Manual of Moral Philosophy_, p. 97 _sqq._
Fowler, _Principles of Morals_, ii. 198 _sqq._]
It is true that a moral judgment may be followed by a moral emotion,
that the finding out the tendency of a certain mode of conduct to
evoke indignation or approval is apt to call forth such an emotion, if
there was none before, or otherwise to increase the one existing. It
is, moreover, true that the predicate of a moral judgment, as {101}
well as the generalisation leading up to such a predicate, may give a
specific colouring to the approval or disapproval which it produces,
quite apart from the general characteristics belonging to that emotion
in its capacity of a moral emotion; the concepts of duty and justice,
for instance, no doubt have a peculiar flavour of their own. But for
all this, moral emotions cannot be described as resentment or
retributive kindliness called forth by moral judgments. Such a
definition would be a meaningless play with words. Whatever emotions
may follow moral judgments, such judgments could never have been
pronounced unless there had been moral emotions antecedent to them.
Their predicates, as was pointed out above, are essentially based on
generalisations of tendencies in certain phenomena to arouse moral
emotions; hence the criterion of a moral emotion can in no case depend
upon its proceeding from a moral judgment. But at the same time moral
judgments, being definite expressions of moral emotions, naturally
help us to discover the true nature of these emotions.
The predicate of a moral judgment always involves a notion of
disinterestedness. When pronouncing an act to be good or bad, I mean
that it is so, quite independently of any reference it might have to
my own interests. A moral judgment may certainly have a selfish
motive; but then it, nevertheless, pretends to be disinterested, which
shows that disinterestedness is a characteristic of moral concepts as
such. This is admitted even by the egoistic hedonist, who maintains
that we approve and condemn acts from self-love. According to
Helvetius, it is the love of consideration that a virtuous man takes
to be in him the love of virtue; and yet everybody pretends to love
virtue for its own sake, "this phrase is in every one's mouth and in
no one's heart."[2]
[Footnote 2: Helvetius, _De l'Homme_, i. 263.]
If the moral concepts are essentially generalisations of tendencies in
certain phenomena to call forth moral emotions, and, at the same time,
contain the notion of {102} disinterestedness, we must conclude that
the emotions from which they spring are felt disinterestedly. Of this
fact we find an echo--more or less faithful--in the maxims of various
ethical theorisers, as well as practical moralists. We find it in the
utilitarian demand that, in regard to his own happiness and that of
others, an agent should be "as strictly impartial as a disinterested
and benevolent spectator";[3] in the "rule of righteousness" laid down
by Samuel Clarke, that "We so deal with every man, as in like
circumstances we could reasonably expect he should with us";[4] in
Kant's formula, "Act only on that maxim which thou canst at the same
time will to become a universal law";[5] in Professor Sidgwick's
so-called axiom, "I ought not to prefer my own lesser good to the
greater good of another";[6] in the biblical sayings, "Thou shalt love
thy neighbour as thyself,"[7] and, "Whatsoever ye would that men
should do to you, do ye even so to them."[8] The same fact is
expressed in the Indian Mahabharata, where it is said:--"Let no man do
to another that which would be repugnant to himself; this is the sum
of righteousness; the rest is according to inclination. In refusing,
in bestowing, in regard to pleasure and to pain, to what is agreeable
and disagreeable, a man obtains the proper rule by regarding the case
as like his own."[9] Similar words are ascribed to Confucius.[10] When
Tsze-kung asked if there is any one word which may serve as a rule of
practice for all one's life, the Master answered, "Is not Reciprocity
such a word? What you do not want done to yourself, do not do to {103}
others." And in another utterance Confucius showed that the rule had
for him not only a negative, but a positive form. He said that, in the
way of the superior man, there are four things to none of which he
himself had as yet attained; to serve his father as he would require
his son to serve him, to serve his prince as he would require his
minister to serve him, to serve his elder brother as he would require
his younger brother to serve him, and to set the example in behaving
to a friend as he would require the friend to behave to him.[11]
[Footnote 3: Stuart Mill, _Utilitarianism_, p. 24.]
[Footnote 4: Clarke, _Discourse concerning the Unchangeable
Obligations of Natural Religion_, p. 201.]
[Footnote 5: Kant, _Grundlegung zur Metaphysik der Sitten_, sec. 2
(_Sämmtliche Werke_, iv. 269).]
[Footnote 6: Sidgwick, _Methods of Ethics_, p. 383. However, as we
have seen above, this so-called "axiom" is not a correct
representation of the disinterestedness of moral emotions.]
[Footnote 7: _Leviticus_, xix. 18. _St. Matthew_, xxii. 39.]
[Footnote 8: _St. Matthew_, vii. 12. _Cf._ _St. Luke_, vi. 31.]
[Footnote 9: _Mahabharata_, xiii. 5571 _sq._, in Muir, _Religious and
Moral Sentiments, rendered from Sanskrit Writers_, p. 107. _Cf._
_Panchatantra_, iii. (Benfey's translation, ii. 235).]
[Footnote 10: _Lun Yü_, xv. 23. _Cf._ _ibid._ xii. 2; _Chung Yung_,
xiii. 3.]
[Footnote 11: _Chung Yung_, xiii. 4.]
This "golden rule" is not, as has been sometimes argued, a rule of
retaliation.[12] It does not say, "Do to others what they wish to do
to you"; it says, "Do to others what you wish, or require, them to do
to you." It brings home to us the fact that moral rules are general
rules, which ought to be obeyed irrespectively of any selfish
considerations. If formulated as an injunction that we should treat
our neighbour in the same manner as we consider that he, under exactly
similar circumstances, ought to treat us, it is simply identical with
the sentence, "Do your duty," with emphasis laid on the
disinterestedness which is involved in the very conception of duty. So
far, St. Augustine was right in saying that "Do as thou wouldst be
done by" is a sentence which all nations under heaven are agreed
upon.[13]
[Footnote 12: Letourneau, _L'évolution religieuse dans les diverses
races humaines_, p. 553.]
[Footnote 13: St. Augustine, quoted by Lilly, _Right and Wrong_, p. 106.]
Disinterestedness, however, is not the only characteristic by which
moral indignation and approval are distinguished from other,
non-moral, kinds of resentment or retributive kindly emotion. It is,
indeed, itself a form of a more comprehensive quality which
characterises moral emotions--apparent impartiality. If I pronounce an
act done to a friend or to an enemy to be either good or bad, that
implies that I assume it to be so independently of the fact that the
person to whom the act is done is my friend or my enemy. Conversely,
if I pronounce an {104} act done by a friend or by an enemy to be good
or bad, that implies that I assume the act to be either good or bad
independently of my friendly or hostile feelings towards the agent.
All this means that resentment and retributive kindly emotion are
moral emotions in so far as they are assumed by those who feel them to
be uninfluenced by the particular relationship in which they stand,
both to those who are immediately affected by the acts in question,
and to those who perform those acts. A moral emotion, then, is tested
by an imaginary change of the relationship between him who approves or
disapproves of the mode of conduct by which the emotion was evoked and
the parties immediately concerned, whilst the relationship between the
parties themselves is left unaltered. At the same time it is not
necessary that the moral emotion should be really impartial. It is
sufficient that it is tacitly assumed to be so, nay, even that it is
not knowingly partial. In attributing different rights to different
individuals, or classes of individuals, we are often, in reality,
influenced by the relationship in which we stand to them, by personal
sympathies and antipathies; and yet those rights may be moral rights,
in the strict sense of the term, not mere preferences, namely, if we
assume that any impartial judge would recognise our attribution of
rights as just, or even if we are unaware of its partiality.
Similarly, when the savage censures a homicide committed upon a member
of his own tribe, but praises one committed upon a member of another
tribe, his censure and praise are certainly influenced by his
relations to the victim, or to the agent, or to both. He does not
reason thus: it is blamable to kill a member of one's own tribe, and
it is praiseworthy to kill a member of a foreign tribe--whether the
tribe be mine or not. Nevertheless, his blame and his praise must be
regarded as expressions of moral emotions.
Finally, a moral emotion has a certain flavour of generality. We have
previously noticed that a moral judgment very frequently implies some
vague assumption {105} that it must be shared by everybody who
possesses both a sufficient knowledge of the case and a "sufficiently
developed" moral consciousness. We have seen, however, that this
assumption is illusory. It cannot, consequently, be regarded as a
_conditio sine quâ non_ for a moral judgment, unless, indeed, it be
maintained that such a judgment, owing to its very nature, is
necessarily a chimera--an opinion which, to my mind, would be simply
absurd. But, though moral judgments cannot lay claim to universality
or "objectivity," it does not follow that they are merely individual
estimates. Even he who fully sees their limitations must admit that,
when he pronounces an act to be good or bad, he gives expression to
something more than a personal opinion, that his judgment has
reference, not only to his own feelings, but to the feelings of others
as well. And this is true even though he be aware that his own
conviction is not shared by those around him, nor by anybody else. He
then feels that it _would be_ shared if other people knew the act and
all its attendant circumstances as well as he does himself, and if, at
the same time, their emotions were as refined as are his own. This
feeling gives to his approval or indignation a touch of generality,
which belongs to public approval and public indignation, but which is
never found in any merely individual emotion of gratitude or
revenge.
* * * * *
The analysis of the moral emotions which has been attempted in this
and the two preceding chapters, holds good, not only for such emotions
as we feel on account of the conduct of others, but for such emotions
as we feel on account of our own conduct as well. Moral
self-condemnation is a hostile attitude of mind towards one's self as
the cause of pain, moral self-approval is a kindly attitude of mind
towards one's self as a cause of pleasure. Genuine remorse, though
focussed on the will of the person who feels it, involves, vaguely or
distinctly, some desire to suffer. The repentant man wants to think of
the wrong he has committed, he wants clearly to realise {106} its
wickedness; and he wants to do this, not merely because he desires to
become a better man, but because it gives him some relief to feel the
sting in his heart. If punished for his deed, he willingly submits to
the punishment. The Philippine Islander, says Mr. Foreman, if he
recognises a fault by his own conscience, will receive a flogging
without resentment or complaint, although, "if he is not so convinced
of the misdeed, he will await his chance to give vent to his
rancour."[14] We may feel actual hatred towards ourselves, we may
desire to inflict bodily suffering upon ourselves as a punishment for
what we have done;[15] nay, there are instances of criminals, guilty
of capital offences, having given themselves up to the authorities in
order to appease their consciences by suffering the penalty of the
law.[16] Yet the desire to punish ourselves has a natural antagonist
in our general aversion to pain, and this often blunts the sting of
the conscience. Suicide prompted by remorse, which sometimes occurs
even among savages,[17] is to be regarded rather as a method of
putting an end to agonies, than as a kind of self-execution; and
behind the self-torments of the sinner frequently lurks the hopeful
prospect of heavenly bliss. Self-approval, again, is not merely joy at
one's own conduct, but is a kindly emotion, a friendly attitude
towards one's self. Such an attitude, for instance, lies at the bottom
of the feeling that one's own conduct merits praise or reward.
[Footnote 14: Foreman, _Philippine Islands_, p. 185. _Cf._ Hinde, _The
Last of the Masai_, p. 34; Zöller, _Das Togoland_, p. 37.]
[Footnote 15: _Cf._ Jodl, _Lehrbuch der Psychologie_, p. 675.]
[Footnote 16: von Feuerbach, _Aktenmässige Darstellung merkwürdiger
Verbrechen_, i. 249; ii. 473, 479 _sq._ von Lasaulx, _Sühnopfer der
Griechen und Römer_, p. 6.]
[Footnote 17: See _infra_, on Suicide.]
Not every form of self-reproach or of self-approval is a moral
emotion--no more than is every form of resentment or retributive
kindly emotion towards other persons. We may be angry with ourselves
on account of some act of ours which is injurious to our own
interests. He who has lost at play may be as vexed at himself as he
who has {107} cheated at play, and the egoist may bitterly reproach
himself for having yielded to a momentary impulse of benevolence, or
even to conscience itself. In order to be moral emotions, our
self-condemnation and self-approval must present the same
characteristics as make resentment and retributive kindliness moral
emotions when they are felt with reference to the conduct of other
people. A person does not feel remorse when he reproaches himself from
an egoistic motive, or when he afterwards regrets that he has
sacrificed the interests of his children to the impartial claim of
justice. Nor does a person feel moral self-approval when he is pleased
with himself for having committed an act which he recognises as
selfish or unjust. And besides being disinterested and apparently
impartial, remorse and moral self-approval have a flavour of
generality. As Professor Baldwin remarks, moral approval or
disapproval, not only of other people, but of one's self, "is never at
its best except when it is accompanied, in the consciousness which has
it, with the knowledge or belief that it is also socially shared."[18]
Indeed, almost inseparable from the moral judgments which we pass on
our own conduct seems to be the image of an impartial outsider who
acts as our judge.
[Footnote 18: Baldwin, _Social and Ethical Interpretation in Mental
Development_, p. 314.]