NATURE, PERFECTION, SELF-REALIZATION
I. NATURE
115. HUMAN NATURE AS ACCEPTED STANDARD.--The three doctrines, that the
norm of moral action is to follow nature, that it is to aim at the
attainment of perfection, and that it is the realization of one's
capabilities, have much in common. They may conveniently be treated in
the same chapter.
Early in the history of the ethics we find the moralist preaching that it
is the duty of man to follow nature, and branding vice as unnatural and,
hence, to be abhorred.
The word "nature," thus used, has had a fluctuating meaning. Sometimes
the thought has been predominantly of human nature, and sometimes the
appeal has been to nature in a wider sense.
Aristotle, who finds the "good" of man in happiness or "well-being,"
points out that this is something relative to man's nature. The well-
being of a man he conceives as, in large part, "well-doing," and well-
doing he defines as performing the proper functions of a man. [Footnote:
_Nichomachean Ethics_, Book I, chapters iv, vii, viii.] If we ask
him what is proper or natural to man, he refers us to what man, when
fully developed, becomes: "What every being is in its completed state,
that certainly is the nature of that thing, whether it be a man, a house,
or a horse." [Footnote: _Politics_, i, 2.] He conceives man's
nature, thus, as that which it is in man to become. Toward this end man
strives; and it is this which furnishes him with the law of his action.
But, it may be asked, how shall this end be defined in detail? Individual
men, who arrive at mature years, are by no means alike. Some we approve;
some we disapprove. We evidently appeal to a standard by which the
individual is judged. The appeal to the nature of man helps us little
unless we can agree upon what we may accept as a just revelation of that
nature--a pattern of some sort, divergence from which may be called
unnatural, and is to be reprobated.
Neither Aristotle, nor those who, after him, took human nature as the
moral norm, were without some conception of such a pattern. They kept in
view certain things that men may become rather than certain others. They
accepted as their standard a type of human nature which tends, on the
whole, to realize itself more and more in the course of development of
human communities. But as different human societies differ more or less
in the characteristics which they tend to transmit to their members, in
the kind of man whom they tend to form, we find the ideal of human
nature, with which we are presented, somewhat vague and fluctuating.
Different traits are dwelt upon by different moralists. Still, the
appeals to human nature have a good deal in common; upon man's rational
and social qualities especial stress is apt to be laid.
116. HUMAN NATURE AND THE LAW OF NATURE.--"Every nature," said Marcus
Aurelius, [Footnote: _Thoughts_, translated by George Long, viii,
7.] "is contented with itself when it goes on its way well; and a
rational nature goes on its way well, when in its thoughts it assents to
nothing false or uncertain, and when it directs its movements to social
acts only, and when it confines its desires and aversions to the things
which are in its power, and when it is satisfied with everything that is
assigned to it by the common Nature."
In the last clause the Stoic turns from the contemplation of man's
nature, taken by itself, and dwells upon the nature of the universe,
which he conceives to be controlled by reason. He thus gains an added
argument for the obligations laid upon man by his own nature. He writes:
"Every instrument, tool, vessel, if it does that for which it has been
made, is well, and yet he who made it is not there. But in the things
which are held together by Nature there is within and there abides in
them the power which made them; wherefore the more is it fit to reverence
this power, and to think that, if thou dost live and act according to its
will, everything in thee is in conformity to intelligence." [Footnote:
_Ibid_ vi, 40.]
The law of man's nature is, thus, regarded as a part of the law of
Nature--"We are all working together to one end, some with knowledge and
design, and others without knowing what they do." [Footnote: _Ibid_,
vi, 42.] And, this being the case, man may take pattern, when he is
inclined to fall below the standard of duty appropriate to him, by
considering humbler creatures: "Dost thou not see the little plants, the
little birds, the ants, the spiders, the bees working together to put in
order their several parts of the universe? And art thou unwilling to do
the work of a human being? And dost thou not make haste to do that which
is according to thy nature?" [Footnote: Ibid, v, 1. ] The delinquent is,
hence, judged guilty, not merely of derogation from his high estate, but
also of impiety. [Footnote: Ibid, ix, 1. ]
117. VAGUENESS OF THE LAW OF NATURE.--The question of the influence of
religious belief upon a theory of morals I shall discuss elsewhere.
[Footnote: See chapter xxxvi.] Here it is only necessary to point out
that, if there is vagueness in the appeal to human nature, it can
scarcely be dissipated satisfactorily by simply turning to Nature in a
broader sense. Shall we, when in doubt as to human behavior, copy that of
the brutes? The industry of some humble creatures it seems edifying to
dwell upon; but from the fact that bees are stung to death by their
sisters in the hive, or that the spider is given to devouring her mate,
we can hardly draw a moral lesson for man.
The appeal to a Law of Nature so often made in the history of ethical
speculation has furnished but a vague and elusive norm. He who makes it
is apt to fall back upon the moral intuitions with which he is furnished,
and to pack a greater or less number of them into his notion of Natural
Law. [Footnote: See SIR HENRY MAINE'S fascinating chapters on the "Law of
Nature," Ancient Law, chapters in and iv. The innumerable appeals to the
Law of Nature contained in Grotius's famous work on the "Law of War and
Peace" are very illuminating. ]
In Cicero, Nature becomes fairly garrulous to man on all matters of
deportment: "Let us follow Nature, and refrain from whatever lacks the
approval of eye and ear. Let attitude, gait, mode of sitting, posture at
table, countenance, eyes, movement of the hands, preserve the
becomingness of which I speak." [Footnote: _De Officiis_, i, 35,
translated by Peabody,]
118. THE APPEAL TO NATURE AND INTUITIONISM.--The moralists who urge us
to follow nature, whether human nature or Nature in a wider sense, we
may, hence, regard as intuitionists of a sort. Those who emphasize human
nature evidently depend upon their moral intuitions to give them
information as to its characteristics. It is intuition that paints for
them their pattern. They do not take man as they actually find him; they
call for the suppression of some traits, and the exaggeration of others.
Nor are those who appeal to Nature in a wider sense less guided by moral
intuitions. The appeal is never made without restrictions and
limitations. No one dreams that the bird, the ant, the spider, the bee,
can be regarded as satisfactory teachers of morals to human beings. Each
may be occupied in putting in order its corner of the universe; but the
order attained is not a human order, and there is in it much that is
revolting to the moral judgments of mankind. Man must have a standard of
his own. He listens to Nature only when she tells him what he already
approves.
As a form of intuitionism the doctrine of following.. nature may be
criticised in much the same way as other forms. One great merit it has.
It calls attention to the fact that ethics is a discipline which has no
significance abstracted from the nature of man. It appears absurd to say
that man ought to do what it is not in man, under any conceivable
circumstances, to do. And, like other forms of intuitionism, it has the
merit of avoiding that short-circuiting which may easily prove seductive
to the egoist or the utilitarian. He who accepts as his end either his
own happiness or that of men generally may easily be induced to take
short cuts to that end, and pay little attention to moral maxims as such.
He may treat lightly that great system of rules and observances by which
men are guided in their relations with one another, and which prevent
human societies from relapsing into a chaos.
On the other hand, the follower of nature, like other intuitionists, may
easily be thrown into perplexity by the fact that what seems to him
natural, and, hence, right, may not be approved by other men. He cannot
_prove_ that he is right and they are wrong. He appears condemned to
take refuge in subjective conviction, that is, in mere dogmatism.
II. PERFECTION
119. PERFECTION AND TYPE.--When we speak of a thing as more or less
perfect, we commonly mean that it is more or less perfect in its kind. A
good saw makes a poor razor; a good chair, a more than indifferent bed. A
bee crushed by a blow, a bird with a broken wing, we regard as imperfect.
But it scarcely occurs to us to ask ourselves whether the bee is more or
less perfect than the bird, or the bird than the spider. Swift's
Houyhnhnms at their best could not be either perfect horses or perfect
men. They were creatures with a perfection of their own, and one
appropriate to their hybrid nature.
To every creature its own perfection. This principle men seem to assume
tacitly in their judgments. They set up a standard for each kind, and
they conceive the individual to attain or to fall short, according to the
degree of its approach to, or of its divergence from, the allotted
standard.
If we take perfection in this sense--and we usually have no other sense
in mind in our judgments of perfection--the doctrine that it is the
whole duty of man to strive to attain to perfection is none other than
the doctrine that it is his duty to follow nature, his proper nature as
man. And any difficulties which may legitimately be urged upon the
attention of the moralist who recommends the following of nature may with
equal justice be urged upon the attention of him who exhorts us to aim at
perfection.
Thus, if it is doubtful just what nature demands of us, it seems no less
doubtful what obligations are laid upon us when we make perfection our
goal. That goal cannot mean for each man simply the developing to the
utmost of all the capacities which he possesses. There are men rich in
the possibilities of sloth, of indifference to future good, of egoism,
even of malignant feeling. Nor does the average man furnish the pattern
of perfection. The perfectionist does not regard the average man as the
embodiment of his ideal. He seeks to better him.
That, in striving to attain perfection, a man should remain a man, with
essentially human characteristics, seems evident. But what sort of a man
he should be is not as clear. Until we are in a position to give some
reasoned account of what we mean by perfection as an ideal, and to show
that it is a desirable goal for man, we appear to be setting up but a
vague end for human endeavor, and to be assuming intuitively that it is a
desirable end.
120. MORE AND LESS PERFECT TYPES.--So much for perfection as synonymous
with the ideal human nature of which ancient and modern moralists have
treated. It appears, however, possible to use the word "perfection" in a
somewhat different sense.
Man is not merely man; he is a living being, and there are living beings
of many orders. The plants, the simpler forms of animal life, the brutes
which we recognize as standing nearer to us, and man may, from this point
of view, be referred to the one series. Some members of this series we
characterize as lower, and others we speak of as higher in the scale.
Now, such designations as higher and lower cannot be applied
indiscriminately. There is little sense in the assertion that a bit of
string is higher than a straight line, or a hat than a handkerchief. Some
significant basis of comparison must be present. Things must be
recognized as approximating to or diverging from an accepted standard in
varying degrees.
Such a basis of comparison is present when some objects possess the same
qualities in a more marked degree than do others. But this is not the
only possible basis of comparison. We may assume that the possession of
certain qualities marks a creature as higher, and that the creature which
has them not, or has them imperfectly developed, thereby stamps itself as
being of a lower order.
Something like this appears to determine our judgments when we assign to
various creatures their place in the scale of living beings. We do not
mean that the higher possess to a greater degree all the capacities
possessed by the lower. Many things which the plant does man cannot do at
all; and, among the animals, those which we recognize as higher may be
lacking in many capacities present in a marked degree in the lower. In
ranking one living creature as higher, and, thus, as more perfect, than
another, we assume that the "nature" of the one, with its various
capacities and lacks of capacity, is, on the whole, of more _worth_
than the "nature" of another.
It might be maintained that, in his estimate of the worth of different
kinds of beings man is influenced by his partiality for the distinctively
human, rating creatures as lower or higher in proportion to their
divergence from or approximation to his own type. Undoubtedly this plays
a part in men's judgments. We are partial to ourselves. And yet judgments
of perfection and imperfection cannot wholly be explained on this
principle.
"I think we must admit without proof," writes Professor Janet, [Footnote:
The Theory of Morals, Book I, chapter iii, English translation, New York,
1883, p. 48.] a brilliant apostle of the doctrine of perfection, "that
things are good, even independently of the pleasure which they give us,
in themselves and by themselves, because of their intrinsic excellence.
If anyone were to demand that I should prove that thought is worth more
than digestion, a tree more than a heap of stones, liberty than slavery,
maternal love than luxury, I could only reply by asking him to
demonstrate that the whole is greater than one of its parts. No sensible
person denies that, in passing from the mineral kingdom to the vegetable
kingdom, from this to the animal kingdom, from the animal to man, from
the savage to the enlightened citizen of a free country, Nature has made
a continual advance; that is to say, at each step has gained in
excellence and perfection."
One is naturally impelled to ask from what point of view things so
disparate as the mineral, the plant, the brute, man, thought and
digestion, liberty and slavery, can be compared with one another at all,
and referred to any sort of a series. What is, in its essence, this
excellence or perfection of which we have more shining evidence as we go
up in the scale? Janet identifies it with intensity of being, with
activity. The greater the activity, the greater the perfection.
To the identification of perfection and activity we may hesitate to
assent. It does not seem clear that there is greater activity manifested
in a snail than in a burning house, in maternal love than in furious
hate, in quiet thought than in passion. Yet it seems significant that
judgments of worth do not appear out of place in comparing such things.
121. PERFECTIONISM AND INTUITIONISM.--Taking into consideration all that
is said above, it seems not unreasonable to conclude:
(1) That in speaking of the perfection of any creature we very often
judge it only by the standard set by its own type. We regard it as a good
specimen of its kind.
(2) But when we use perfection in a wider sense, we judge different types
after the standard furnished by the distinctively human.
(3) And we take as our standard of the human the "pattern" man held in
view by those who urge us to follow nature.
But why should this pattern man be assumed to be better or worthier than
a man of a different sort? He who finds in him a greater exhibition of
activity may with equal justice address to himself the question: Why is
activity, in itself, of value? The one question, like the other, looks
for its answer in the dictum of some intuition. What may be said for, and
what against, intuitions, we have already considered. [Footnote: See
chapter xxiii]
III. SELF-REALIZATION
122. THE SELF-REALIZATION DOCTRINE.--The ethical school which makes the
realization of the capacities of the self the aim of moral action has for
a generation, especially in England and America, had the support of many
acute and scholarly minds. The doctrine, often spoken of as the Neo-
Kantian or the Neo-Hegelian, may be said to be influenced by Kant, so far
as concerns metaphysical theory, but its ethical character is more
properly Hegelian and suggests in many particulars that great German
philosopher's "Philosophy of Right."
We may conveniently take as the protagonist of the school the Oxford
scholar, Thomas Hill Green, whose "Prolegomena to Ethics" has had,
directly and indirectly, a powerful influence upon the minds of the men
of our generation.
We find the doctrine of self-realization, as set forth by Green, to be as
follows:
(1) In all desire some object is presented to the mind as not yet real,
and there is a striving to make it real, and thus to satisfy, or
extinguish, the desire. [Footnote: Prolegomena to Ethics, Sec 131.]
(2) Self-consciousness knits the desires into a system, and thus attains
to the conception of "well-being," which implies the satisfaction of
desire in general, and not merely of this or that desire. [Footnote:
Prolegomena to Ethics, Sec 128.]
(3) "Good" is that which satisfies some desire. Any good at which an
agent aims must be his own good; and "true good" is nothing else than
"permanent well-being." [Footnote: Prolegomena to Ethics, Sec Sec 190, 92,
203.]
(4) A desire is determined by the nature of the creature desiring; man
can attain satisfaction only in the realization of his capacities. His
true good lies only in their complete realization--in his becoming all
that it is in him to become. [Footnote: Prolegomena to Ethics, Sec
Sec 171-2, 180.]
(5) But man is a social being, and has an interest in other persons than
himself. Hence his complete self-satisfaction implies the satisfaction of
his social as well as of his other impulses. That is, his true good
includes the good of others. [Footnote: Prolegomena to Ethics, Sec Sec 199-
205.]
(6) We can only discover what our "capacities" are by observing them as
so far realized, and thus gaining the idea of future progress. The
ultimate end is unknown to us. [Footnote: Prolegomena to Ethics, Sec 172.]
(7) But we see enough to recognize that man's capacities can be realized,
his self-satisfaction intelligently sought, only in a social state based
upon the notion of the common good. The right reveals itself in the
actual evolution of society. [Footnote: Ibid., Sec Sec 172-76, 205.]
123. THE DOCTRINE AKIN TO THAT OF FOLLOWING NATURE.--The self-
realization doctrine has much in common with the doctrine of following
nature. Thus:
1. It evidently does not recommend the realization of all the capacities
of the individual as such, but holds in view a "pattern" man.
2. This is social man, the true representative of human nature as
conceived by the ancient Stoic. Green holds before himself "the ideal of
a society in which everyone shall treat everyone else as his neighbor, in
which to every rational agent the well-being or perfection of every other
such agent shall be included in that perfection for which he lives."
[Footnote: Prolegomena to Ethics, Sec 205.] The same thought was more
pithily expressed by Marcus Aurelius in the aphorism that "what is good
for the hive is good for the bee."
3. We find, too, the analogue of that wider appeal to nature which
suffused the Stoic doctrine with religious feeling. In the above brief
recapitulation of the steps in the self-realization doctrine I have
omitted this aspect, as I wished to confine myself to the ethical
doctrine pure and simple. But Green conceives of the Divine Consciousness
as already having before it the consummation toward which man strives in
his efforts at self-realization; he regards man as working toward the
attainment of a Divine Purpose. The self-realizationist may prefer,
sometimes, to use language more abstract. He may say: "Man's
consciousness of himself as a member of society involves a reference to a
cosmic order." [Footnote: MUIRHEAD, The Elements of Ethics, Book I,
chapter in, Sec 10.] But the difference of language scarcely carries with
it a substantial difference of thought. [Footnote: "Though the
philosopher as such may shun the term 'God' on account of its
anthropomorphic associations, and may prefer to speak of the 'conscious
principle,' or of the 'universal self,' yet the latter has in substance
the same meaning as the former." FITE, _An Introductory Study of
Ethics_, chapter xiii, Sec 4.]
4. As the appeal to human nature, or to nature in a broader sense, left
the norm for the guidance of human actions somewhat vague, so the appeal
to the principle of self-realization seems to leave one without very
definite guidance. There may easily arise disputes touching what
capacities are to be realized, and in what degree.
124. IS THE DOCTRINE MORE EGOISTIC?--One difference between the
principles of following nature, striving to attain to perfection, and
aiming at self-realization seems to force itself upon our notice. On the
surface, at least, the last doctrine appears to stand out as more
distinctly egoistic. The very name has an egoistic flavor; the doctrine
bases itself upon the satisfaction of desire; nor do its advocates
hesitate to emphasize that the satisfaction sought is the satisfaction of
the agent desiring. In the chapter on Egoism [Footnote: Chapter xxiv.] I
have cited some utterances which sound egoistic, and such citations might
be multiplied.
Nevertheless, from this egoistic root springs a flower which disseminates
the perfume of a saintly self-abnegation. How is this seeming miracle
accomplished?
The transition is brought about through a chain of reasoning which is
subtle and ingenious in the extreme. Must we not admit that in all
purposive action--the only action with which the moralist need concern
himself--there is a striving to realize or satisfy desire in the
attainment of some object? And if the desires of a mind or self converge
upon some object, does not its realization imply the satisfaction or
realization of the desires of that mind or self? Furthermore, if our
desires have as their root our capacities--for we can desire nothing that
it is not in us to desire--is not the realization of desire the
realization of capacity? Does it not follow, hence, that every mind or
self, in all purposive action, is striving, either blunderingly or with
far-sighted intelligence, to attain to self-satisfaction, which means, to
the realization of its capacities? Finally, as men are by nature social
creatures, how can a man fully realize his capacities without becoming a
truly unselfish being? Unselfishness appears to be the inevitable goal of
the strivings for self-satisfaction of an unselfish self.
125. WHY AIM TO REALIZE CAPACITIES?--This reasoning appears highly
satisfactory in two very different ways. It seems, on the one hand, to
stop the mouth of the egoist, who insists that his own advantage is his
only proper aim. It assures him that he is throughout seeking his own
advantage, when he aims at self-realization. On the other hand, it
assures the man to whom egoism appears repellant and immoral, that self-
realization implies that one must love one's neighbor as oneself. The
immemorial quarrel between self-love and benevolence appears to be
adjusted to the mutual satisfaction of both parties.
Is the reasoning unassailable? There are two steps in it which appear to
demand a closer scrutiny. One is the transition from desire to capacity;
the other, the assumption that he who follows an unselfish impulse may
properly be said to aim at self-satisfaction, and to exercise no self-
denial.
As to the first. Our desires may have their roots in our capacities, but
desires and capacities are, nevertheless, not the same thing.
Men do actually strive to realize their desires--a desire is nothing else
than such a striving for realization or satisfaction. But it cannot be
said that men generally strive to realize their capacities, except to the
limited degree in which their capacities may happen to be expressed in
actual desires. Capacities may lie dormant, and the man in whom they lie
dormant need not on that account feel dissatisfied, as does the man whose
desires are not realized. Self-realization, as understood by the school
of thinkers which advocates it, implies much more than the satisfaction
of desire. It implies the multiplication of desires and their
satisfaction. On what ground shall we persuade the contented egoist, who
has but a handful of commonplace desires and finds it possible to satisfy
most of them, that it is better to call into being a multitude of wants
many of which will probably remain unrealized? He may point out that the
divine discontent is apt to leave the idealist and the reformer as lean
as Cassius. All of which does not prove that the self-realizationist is
not right in exhorting men to develop their capacities in the direction
of the pattern which he holds in view; but it does seem to prove that the
path to self-realization, in this sense, is not necessarily the path to
self-satisfaction. "The good" has come to mean more than that which
satisfies desire. How shall we persuade men that it is their duty to make
this good their end?
126. THE PROBLEM OF SELF-SACRIFICE.--As for the second point. He who
makes his moral aim self-satisfaction can scarcely be expected to
advocate self-sacrifice.
Accordingly, we find among self-realizationists, a tendency to repudiate
altogether what may properly be called self-denial. "Anything conceived
as good in such a way that the agent acts for the sake of it," said
Green, [Footnote: Prolegomena, Sec 92.] "must be conceived as his own
good." "A moment's consideration will show," writes Professor Fite, in
his clear and attractive book, [Footnote: An Introductory Study of
Ethics, chapter viii, Sec 5.] "that, for self-sacrifice in any absolute
sense, no ground of obligation is conceivable. Unless I am in some way
interested in the object [Footnote: I.e., unless I desire the object.]
whose attainment is set before me as a duty, it seems to be
psychologically impossible that I should ever strive for it."
Now we do seem compelled to concede that, unless a man desires an end, he
cannot will that end. Anything that is selected as an end, and striven
for, must be desired. And the attainment of the end implies, of course,
the satisfaction of that particular desire. But, admitting all this, is
not the question left open whether some desires may not be sacrificed to
others; and whether, indeed, a whole extensive system of desires may not,
on occasion, be sacrificed to a single desire? In this case, may not the
transaction properly be called self-sacrifice? Suppose the desire to
serve one's neighbor, if satisfied, prevents the realization of a
multitude of other desires of the same agent. Is it certain that its
satisfaction does not imply self-denial?
127. SELF-SATISFACTION AND SELF-SACRIFICE.--The argument to prove that it
is not really self-sacrifice may follow divers paths.
Thus, it may be argued that, since the proper end of a rational being is
his own permanent good, the sacrifice of such goods as do not conduce to
this end is not self-sacrifice. Sensual pleasures, the satisfaction of
vanity or ambition, the accomplishment of a vengeful purpose, an
excessive preoccupation with one's own interests as contrasted with those
of others--such things as these, it is claimed, do not permanently
satisfy. That the so-called man of pleasure is a man upon whom pleasures
pall, and that he who seeks too earnestly to save his own life is apt to
lose it, has been reiterated by a long line of professional and lay
moralists from Buddha to Tolstoi. The refuge from the discontent arising
out of the attempt to quench one's thirst by sipping at transient
delights has always been found in altruism under some guise. The self-
realizationists may claim that certain things are given up in order that
other things more permanently satisfying to the self may be attained, and
may deny that this is any renunciation of self-satisfaction. [Footnote:
GREEN, op. cit., Sec 176.]
Again. It may be argued that men's interests do not conflict as widely as
is commonly supposed. To be sure, two men may have to struggle with each
other for the pleasure of eating a given apple, of making a pecuniary
profit, of obtaining a coveted post, of being the first authority in a
given science or art, of securing the affections of a particular woman.
Here one man's loss seems to be another man's gain. But two men may enjoy
seeing a child eat an apple, or a deserving man profit, or their common
candidate win the election, or their favorite artist honored, or their
beloved nephew accepted by the lady of his choice. If one desires certain
things, and certain things only, there seems no reason why one's desires
should not be in harmony with those of others.
The things best worth having, it is claimed, do not admit of being
competed for. [Footnote: GREEN, _Prolegomena to Ethics_, Sec Sec 244-
245.] If my aim is unselfish devotion to humanity, how can I lose if my
neighbor attains in the same running? Do virtuous men, in so far as they
are virtuous, stand in each other's light? Are there not as many prizes
as there are competitors? As long as I remain in this field I may seek
self-satisfaction without scruple. I satisfy another's desire in
satisfying my own. By benevolence I lose nothing.
The list of things which one may forego without self-sacrifice has been
made a long one. Even the realization of capacities highly valued by
cultivated men has been brought into it:
"No conflict," writes Professor Seth, [Footnote: _A Study of Ethical
Principles_, Part II, chapter ii, Sec 4, Edinburgh, 1911, p. 286.] "is
possible between the ends of the individual and those of society. The
individual may be called upon to sacrifice, for example, his opportunity
of esthetic or intellectual culture; but in that very sacrifice lies his
opportunity of moral culture, of true self-realization."
128. CAN MORAL SELF-SACRIFICE BE A DUTY?--To this position one is tempted
to demur until two questions have found a satisfactory answer:
1. Is it true that there is no sacrifice of self-realization or self-
satisfaction, properly so called, where all other desires and impulses
are sacrificed to the one desire to do right?
2. Is it not conceivable, at least, that obedience to an unselfish
impulse may result even in the sacrifice of the opportunities of moral
culture in general? Can it, then, be called self-realization?
Touching the first question it may plausibly be maintained that the
desires of the self are many and various, and that the satisfaction of an
altruistic impulse may imply the sacrifice of so many of them that the
self may very doubtfully be said to attain to permanent satisfaction when
the impulse is realized. Aristotle's hero, who, in dying for his country,
chooses the more "honorable" for himself, [Footnote: _Ethics_, Book
IX, chapter viii, Sec 12.] can hardly be said in that one act to have
accomplished a state of permanent satisfaction or well-being for the self
whose being was, in that act, brought to an abrupt termination. Certain
Stoics seem to have taught that virtue is its own adequate reward and
that nothing else matters; but this has not been the verdict of moralists
generally. Paley, who writes like an unblushing egoist, [Footnote: See Sec
96.] we may pass over; but even Kant, a thinker of a very different
complexion, appears to regard the mere doing of a right act as not a
sufficient reward for the doer. He looks for the act to be crowned with
happiness in a life to come, thus saving it from being mere self-
sacrifice.
The second question one approaches with some hesitation. "No moralist,"
writes Professor Sidgwick, [Footnote: _The Methods of Ethics_,
Introduction.] "has ever directed an individual to promote the virtue of
others except in so far as this promotion is compatible with, or rather
involved in, the complete realization of virtue in himself." It appears
rash to admit to be a duty that which as high an authority as Sidgwick
maintains no moralist has ever ventured to advise. Still, it is
permissible to adduce an illustration taken from actual life, and to ask
the reader to form his opinion independently.
A girl, anxious to provide her younger sister with a better lot, enters a
factory and gives up her life to labor of a monotonous and mind-
destroying character, amid sordid and more or less degrading
surroundings. The act is a heroic one, but is it clear that it conduces
to the self-realization, not of the sister, but of the agent herself? The
influence of surroundings counts for much. High impulses may, under such
pressure, come to be repressed.
"Capacity for the nobler feelings," writes Mill, [Footnote:
_Utilitarianism_, chapter iii] "is in most natures a very tender
plant, easily killed, not only by hostile influences, but by mere want of
sustenance; and in the majority of young persons it speedily dies away if
the occupations to which their position in life has devoted them, and the
society into which it has thrown them, are not favorable to keeping that
higher capacity in exercise. Men lose their high aspirations as they lose
their intellectual tastes, because they have not time or opportunity for
indulging them; and they addict themselves to inferior pleasures, not
because they deliberately prefer them, but because they are either the
only ones to which they have access, or the only ones they are any longer
capable of enjoying."
In other words, one may put oneself into a situation in which self-
realization appears to be made a most difficult and problematic goal. Nor
does it seem inconceivable that one should do this for the sake of
another's good. Hence, even if we restrict the meaning of the word "self-
sacrifice" to the sacrifice of the "real" or moral self, the
impossibility of self-sacrifice scarcely appears to have been proved; the
impossibility of a conflict between the ends of the individual and of
society does not appear to be indubitably established.
129. SELF-SACRIFICE AND THE IDENTITY OF SELVES.--Can it be maintained
upon any other grounds than those adduced above? One line of argument
remains open to us. We may maintain that, while two bodies are two
because they occupy two portions of space, two minds, as not in space,
cannot thus be held apart, and we may conclude that "the many individuals
composing the race are not really many, but one." [Footnote: Fite, _An
Introductory Study of Ethics_, chapter xii.] I suppose that he who can
take this position will find it natural to argue that any act which
serves the interests of any self must be regarded as serving the
interests of every self, and thus cannot be considered as sacrificing the
interests of any self.
To these transcendental heights, however, comparatively few will be able
to climb. To men generally it will still appear that Peter's love to Paul
is not identical with Peter's love to Peter; and that Peter may act in
such a way that, on the whole, he loses, while Paul gains. That the
interests of Peter and Paul, as developed social beings and members of a
civilized community, are less likely to be in conflict than those of
their primitive cave-dwelling forerunners may be freely conceded. But
from such relative harmony to a complete identity of interests seems a
far cry.
130. QUESTIONS WHICH SEEM TO BE LEFT OPEN.--Evidently, the self-
realization doctrine is a great advance upon the doctrine of following
nature. The self-realizationist realizes that man's nature is in the
making, and he is not blind to the difficulty of the task of determining
just what the real demands of human nature are.
This leads to his laying much stress upon the gradual development of
systems of rights and duties as they emerge under the actual conditions
to which human societies are subjected in the course of their evolution.
He reads history with comprehending eyes, and reverences the human reason
as crystallized in social institutions. Hence, the divergence of the
moral standards which obtain in different ages and among different
peoples does not seem to him a baffling mystery. He can find a relative
justification for each, and yet hold to an ideal in the light of which
each must be judged.
It may be questioned, however, whether the edifice which he erects can be
based wholly upon the appeal to the self which ostensibly furnishes the
groundwork of the doctrine. We may ask whether such an appeal can:
(1) Prescribe to the individual in what measure his various capacities
should be realized.
(2) Show that it is reasonable to awaken dormant capacities, and thus
multiply desires.
(3) Justify social acts which certainly appear to be self-sacrificing,
and which the moral judgments of men generally do not hesitate to
approve.