shouldn't I follow my inclinations and do what I like, whenever and
wherever I get the chance?"
Why not?
If you expect them to act contrary to their inclinations, to deny
themselves the pleasures that they want, and to do things they do not
feel like doing, there ought to be a good and sufficient reason. It
ought to be so clear and convincing that it can be accepted with a whole
heart and a settled resolve to abide by it.
The young people of to-day are made of exactly the same stuff as the
young people of any other day. They have the same sort of instincts and
the same underlying aspiration to get the most and the best out of life.
Owing to altered conditions, for reasons which we have outlined, they
are being left to go about it very largely in their own way, with less
coercion from without, than young people have probably ever known before
in the history of civilization.
How far will you get by telling them that the way they are going is
immoral and sinful? They can answer by saying "If I choose to be immoral
and satisfy myself, why shouldn't I? I'm not afraid of being sinful, or
any of those old-fashioned scare-crows."
How far will you get by advising that the rod be taken out again and
that they be beaten into submission to forms of authority which they no
longer believe in or respect? This might result in teaching them
duplicity and cunning and resentment, but probably nothing more
beneficial to their spiritual health.
It seems to me more sensible to be patient with them and talk matters
over with them and try to answer their question in exactly the same
spirit in which it is asked.
The question is "Why shouldn't I go ahead and gratify my inclinations in
any way that suits myself."
There are many reasons, some of which ought not to be very difficult for
any one to understand. Broadly speaking, they are of three different
kinds--First, experience; second, affection; third, faith.
Let us examine them in order, in a simple, leisurely way, and try to
make clear the essence of each.
What does the question of experience lead to and imply?
First, there is one's own experience; then there is the experience of
other people.
Our own experience teaches us very quickly that we often have impulses
which it would be a mistake to obey. If you feel like pulling a strange
dog's tail and the dog turns on you and bites your hand and the wound
has to be cauterized, and you have to go through a lot of pain and
trouble and fear of hydrophobia, one lesson will probably be enough for
you.
Suppose you are overheated and feel like sitting in a draft and letting
the cool air blow on you, and this is followed by a heavy cold which
lays you up for a week or two?
Or suppose you are on top of a tall building and feel a strong impulse
to jump out and go sailing through the air? Many people have this
impulse, but they have previously had enough experience to know what
happens to people who fall from high places.
The number of such examples might be multiplied indefinitely, but enough
has been suggested to indicate the principle. It is quite obvious and
childishly simple--the lessons taught to each and every one of us by our
own experience.
Now let us follow this path a step further. It is quite possible for you
to have impulses and inclinations to do things which might cause you
irreparable harm. The consequences of these things are not something
that you can remember and foresee, because in your own experience they
have not occurred before. If you stick to your idea of obeying no one
but yourself and of being unafraid to do what you want, the lesson in
store for you may come too late.
Certain impulses of yours, if followed, may cause death. Others may
cause permanent injury to yourself, or irreparable harm to others.
A little boy seeing an automobile coming along the road sometimes has an
impulse to run across the road in front of the automobile, for the fun
and excitement of it. If you are a boy and feel like it, why shouldn't
you?
You have never tripped and fallen in front of an automobile--you have
never misjudged the speed of it and been struck and killed that way.
You have never seen any other boy killed that way. There is nothing in
your own experience to deter you.
If the automobile happens to hit you, you will have acquired experience
that might be useful to you, but the cost is too great. If you are not
dead, you may be crippled for life.
If you are convalescing from typhoid fever, you are likely to have a
ravenous appetite. You feel very well and you derive considerable
pleasure from the milk-toast and soft-boiled eggs you have been getting,
but they do not begin to satisfy you. Every instinct within you calls
for a big piece of juicy beef-steak and fried potatoes. There is no
reason in your experience why you should not gratify your desire--you
may have been told by the doctor that it isn't time for that yet and you
must be content with what is ordered for you. But if you believe in
doing what you feel like and the doctor is out of the way, why not have
your beef-steak? I happen to know of two separate cases where this
occurred--friends of mine. The doctor in each case apparently took too
much for granted and failed to impress upon their minds forcibly enough
the need of obeying his orders rather than their own inclinations. The
experience came too late--because it brought death with it.
Or suppose you are in some out-of-the-way place and are hot and tired
and very thirsty and the only water available comes from a supply which
is not fit to drink? You may have been told this by some one who knows
more about it than you do, but if you believe in ignoring other people's
opinions and thinking only of yourself--and the water is cool and clear
and you feel like drinking it, why shouldn't you? Suppose it turns out
that clear, cool water may be polluted with cholera, or yellow fever, or
other deadly germs? You may never recover from the effects of it.
These are crude, haphazard illustrations of a principle which is
constantly at work in human lives in a great variety of ways. The
obvious meaning of it is that your experience, or your own lack of
experience, in many questions and emergencies may not be enough for you
to go by, or depend upon.
Most young people have had very little experience of many things that
are liable to have a vital bearing on their own lives, their own selves,
their own hope of happiness.
As a matter of fact it must be evident to any one who will reflect a
moment, that no one individual, however long he may have lived, or
however full and varied his life may have been, can possibly have had in
his own personal experience more than a small fraction of the things
that may occur and do keep occurring in the world of humanity.
If he has led a clean, healthy, vigorous life, he cannot have
experienced the feelings and problems of a drunkard and dope-fiend
slowly submerging in dissipation and vice. If he married young and has
known the joy of entire devotion to a loyal and loving helpmate, he
cannot have had the experience of a profligate who has been divorced
four times and is about to take another chance with a dashing
grass-widow. Hundreds and thousands of situations that other human
beings are called upon to face, he cannot have gone through on his own
account.
But if we are able to find out and bear in mind the experience of other
people, we can make use of it, as a warning and a guide, in much the
same way as if it had happened to ourselves. If I have seen a boy try to
run across the road in front of an automobile and stumble and get
killed, it is not necessary for me to get killed in order to appreciate
the danger of the experiment. You may never have seen this happen, but
if I have and I tell you about it, you can use the information you get
from me and still save yourself the necessity of risking your neck.
This principle is not at all difficult to understand. It has always been
applied, to greater or less extent, in the lives of all human beings,
everywhere. It is no more than common sense to profit by the experiences
of others, and try to avoid their mistakes.
It seems strange that such a universal principle should be overlooked by
the up-to-date minds of the new generation. Yet the least little glimmer
of light from it would in itself seem to be a sufficient answer to their
question.
"Why shouldn't I go ahead and gratify all my impulses?"
Because although your own limited experience may be insufficient to
warn you and guide you, the experience of other people has shown
repeatedly that such and such impulses usually lead to such and such
consequences which would be very harmful to you.
In the long run the results of others' experience are a better guide to
follow than your selfish impulses. You wish to be intelligent and
reasonable, don't you? Well, if you lack experience and understanding,
it is neither intelligent nor reasonable to imagine that you are the
best judge of the consequences.
Of course, the examples we have cited so far--the strange dog that
bites, the boy and the automobile, typhoid fever and polluted water--are
very elementary. Also the questions they involve--the harmful
consequences of certain impulses--are direct and immediate and entirely
material. They serve well enough to answer a question and illustrate a
principle and that is all they were intended for. The principle is worth
bearing in mind, because its application extends to all sorts of
complicated questions of conduct. One reason that the young people of
to-day are so confused in their moral ideas is just because they have
been allowed to overlook this simple, fundamental principle.
It frequently happens that the most important consequences of the thing
you do, or fail to do, are not direct and immediate but fairly remote
and obscure. An individual without much experience or knowledge of the
world may easily neglect to consider them.
For instance, I have known several cases where young men of good family
forged their fathers' names. They were up-to-date young men, of course.
But even so, how could they come to do such a thing?
By gratifying their inclinations, in the first place, in accordance with
the up-to-date idea. One natural consequence of this is that, in order
to gratify a new inclination, or as a result of having gratified the
last one, it becomes necessary to have more money. That is one of the
annoyances of civilization, which even the most advanced of the new
generation haven't yet been able to change. Many of their pet impulses
cannot be indulged without money. It is an old-fashioned convention and
very irksome, but for the time being, at least, it has to be made the
best of.
The young men in question eventually found themselves faced with this
problem. They had to have money. How could they get it? Not by asking
their mother, or father, for it. That source of supply had been used up
to the last drop, with the help of all sorts of pretexts, subterfuges
and broken promises. There was no longer any available friend or
relative to borrow from. That resource had also been used up. They had
no jewelry left to pawn--that had been used up, too.
So finally, for the want of a better way, they arrived at this scheme of
signing their fathers' names to checks.
After all, looking at it from their point-of-view, and bearing in mind
the freedom of the individual, why shouldn't they?
It would do no great harm to their fathers--no real harm at all. They
had plenty of money in the bank.
But it would constitute forgery--a serious offense, against the law.
"What of that? So is speeding an automobile against the law. Who's
afraid of breaking the law--if you have the nerve?"
Is there no such thing as right and wrong? Don't you know in your heart
that this would be wrong--very wrong?
"I've been fed up with that kind of talk all my life. What other people
think about such things is their affair. I believe in deciding for
myself and doing as I like.
"The main thing I've got to consider is my chance of getting away with
it and what is liable to happen if I don't. I am sure I can make a good
enough imitation of my father's signature to get the check cashed at one
of the stores the family deals with. If it goes to the bank along with
other checks and the amount is not large, there is small chance of any
attention being paid to it. If it once gets into father's account at the
bank, as likely as not it will never be discovered. And even if it
should be, at some future date, no father would bring a charge against
his own son. So the worst that can happen is another one of those family
scenes which I have gone through before.
"The most important thing of all is that I need the money--I've got to
have it--and this is the least objectionable way I can think of to get
it."
This is presumably the process of reasoning the young men in question
went through. In each case the immediate consequence of the act was
apparently harmless and quite satisfactory to them. They got the money
they wanted, the checks were taken in at the bank, time passed and no
one knew the difference.
The indirect and remote consequences of this kind of conduct, however,
came eventually. They nearly always do. The forgeries in each case were
repeated--why shouldn't they be? And the day finally arrived when they
were brought to light. In each of the cases the suffering and
heart-break of the mothers and fathers was pitiful and beyond recovery
in this world. That was one of the indirect consequences.
One of the young men, whom I had known as a bright, attractive
collegian, was sent to prison, eventually, in spite of all his family
could do. Another died in an institution for incurables. All forfeited
their birthright of home, family, decent associations and ended up in
degradation and wreckage.
That was one of the remote consequences.
Let us take a more usual example, much less extreme--the young man who
steps on the throttle of his automobile because he feels like going
fast.
As far as his own experience is concerned, where is the reason for him
to deny his impulse?
If a traffic cop happens to see him, he might get "pinched" and fined.
That's about the only thing worth considering. But if he keeps his eyes
open and his companions in the back seat watch out behind, there's not
much chance of that. And after all, suppose he does happen to "get
pinched," what of it? There are plenty of others. His father will have
to pay a fine and there will be a little scolding and unpleasantness in
the family, at the worst.
As for the danger, who's afraid of that? It only makes it more exciting
and more fun.
The result is logical enough, if you start with the premise that each
individual is free to follow his inclinations and decide for himself.
Very few young men have sufficient experience of their own, or
sufficient reflection and wisdom, to give due weight to the indirect and
remote consequences which may come from such conduct.
Let us pause and imagine a few of them.
In the first place, an automobile skimming along the road at the rate of
sixty or seventy miles an hour has in it elements of danger which are
entitled to some consideration. The danger is not only for those who are
in the car, but also for others who may wish to use the same road. An
accumulated mass of experience has amply demonstrated this. That is the
underlying reason for the speed laws--not that young men may be
"pinched" by "traffic cops" and fathers be made to pay fines.
If the young man driving the car were the only one concerned in the
danger, it might be different. He could claim the right to risk his own
neck when he felt like it, and it might be conceded to him. But such is
not the case--such is never the case--other people cannot help being
affected by his conduct. His companions in the car, their families, his
own family, other people on the road and all their families, may be
very much concerned in a possible accident caused by his recklessness.
If he kills a little girl, or a boy on a bicycle, or a lady coming out
of a cross-road, or if the damage is merely the injury of a few people
and the wrecking of a car, there are sure to be unpleasant consequences
for the young man himself.
So much for the question of accident or danger of accident, but there is
another question of another sort involved.
Suppose the young man has promised his mother and father that he would
not drive fast--never above thirty miles an hour--suppose it was on this
distinct understanding that their anxiety was allayed and he was trusted
to take the car by himself wherever he liked?
Does it make any difference to him whether he breaks a promise--to his
mother and father?
He can say to himself that it is only a natural fussiness on their part,
and as they are not in the car, they won't know anything about it.
But sooner or later they do know about it; such things nearly always
have a way of coming to light. It is an old saying which has been very
generally confirmed that, in the long run, "the truth will out." One of
the girls in the car tells somebody how fast they went and that somebody
refers to it before others until it gets to the boy's mother and
father. What harm to the boy? A little scolding, perhaps, and a
repetition of the warning and the promise?
That's only the superficial consequence. There is a deeper and more
remote one. The parents' confidence in their boy receives a shock. The
boy can't always be trusted to keep his word. Also he is inclined to be
reckless and irresponsible.
The parents have always idolized the boy; the father has never ceased
looking forward to the day when he could turn over to his son a big
share of his responsibilities and see him carry on the name and prestige
of the family. It is the most natural and fondest hope that fathers
have.
This hope begins to be undermined when the boy does something which
shows that he cannot be trusted. If he will break his word and take a
reckless chance, merely for the sake of gratifying a trivial
inclination, what is to keep him from doing so, on other occasions for
the same reason? The same spirit and the same point-of-view are certain
to find repeated opportunities for the same sort of irresponsible
conduct.
When, in the course of time, the realization of this finally comes home
to the mother and father, the consequences, although remote, are apt to
be extremely serious for all concerned--including the boy.
His character is irresponsible and untrustworthy. His word, or promise,
is of no account--he cannot be counted on to keep it. That has been
proved by his conduct--unmistakably.
What the harm is to an individual of developing a character of this
kind--or a lack of character--is a big and fairly complicated subject
which is apparently not much considered by up-to-date young people, who
are satisfied to judge things from the point-of-view of selfishness and
personal experience. It may be left for discussion later on.
The harm to mother and father and members of the family is also a matter
which they incline to imagine is no concern of theirs. According to the
new principle, the main consideration is one's own ego and its right to
freedom. This question, too, may be left for later discussion.
But there still remains a harm and a loss of a practical, material kind,
which in due course is pretty sure to come to the young man, himself. As
it has a direct bearing on his pleasures and inclinations, even the most
selfish individual should find it worth considering.
If you do things that are reckless and irresponsible, if you break your
word and fail to keep your promise, the people who cease to trust you,
those who have most to do with you, will treat you accordingly. Those
who have it in their power to contribute largely to your enjoyment, and
to your opportunities, will refrain from doing so. Invitations,
friendships, relationships of various kinds that might have been at your
disposal, will be withheld from you.
To get the most out of life, even from an entirely material and selfish
point-of-view, you need a lot of help from other people. First and
foremost you need it from your own family, in countless ways.
Suppose your own father, as a result of your irresponsibility, refuses
to let you have an automobile to break the speed laws with? Suppose he
is forced by experience to realize that you can't be trusted with money,
any more than you can be trusted with an automobile? This realization is
sure to be a source of great disappointment and sorrow to him, but he
has to accept it. He must abandon his hope of turning over his
responsibilities to you. If money is placed at your disposal, you may be
expected to gamble with it on the stock exchange, or the race-track, or
to squander it in gratifications of an unworthy and demoralizing kind. A
young man who thinks only of gratifying his inclinations, who is not
afraid to be reckless and inconsiderate of others, and who fails to keep
his word, is hardly a fit person to be placed in control of money. It
frequently happens that a father feels it a duty, when he makes his
will, to tie up the family inheritance in such a way that it will be
beyond the reach of an untrustworthy son.
So that the remote and indirect consequences of this kind of conduct may
be more harmful to a young man than his lack of experience and
understanding makes him aware of, at the time being.
How about the young woman of superior intellect and breeding, who had an
inclination to smoke opium, on one occasion, and to sniff cocaine, on
another?
Suppose she had been better informed on the subject than she apparently
was. Suppose she happened to have a friend, who had been connected with
one of the state institutions for drug addicts, and this friend had told
her about the inmates--how hopeless and pitiful their degradation
was--how abject their slavery to the drug sensation for which they
continually yearned. No way has been found to cure them, because they
have no will to be cured. And the beginnings of the habit are so often
accidental and trivial--curiosity, or bravado, or carelessness on the
part of a practitioner. A Harvard college student, of good family, for
instance, was on a spree in Boston, with some friends--they went to an
opium joint and thought it would be fun to try the sensation. This
particular boy remained in the den twenty-four hours, under the
influence. That was the beginning--and the end. He went there again--he
got himself a lay-out--and is now a hopeless wreck in the state
institution, twenty-one years old. Another is a society woman who was
given a dose of heroin and that one dose proved sufficient for her
undoing. The craving for it came and she wanted more and more.
Or suppose some one had told her about a very remarkable case which came
to my attention, a number of years ago. Four young physicians were
associates on the staff of one of our leading medical institutions. A
considerable part of their time was devoted to research work and among
other things they started experimenting with the effects of cocaine,
which was a comparatively recent discovery. They were brilliant young
men of unusual character and promise, but all four succumbed to the
cocaine habit. The last of them died in pitiful degradation, within five
years of their first experiment.
Experience has shown that just as there are certain poisons which the
bodily functions are unable to resist, so there are certain drugs which
have the effect of sapping the will and distorting the judgment. The
craving which they leave in their wake may very easily become so
compelling that human nature cannot resist it.
So that if any society woman has sufficient understanding of the
subject, there is plenty of reason why she should dismiss an inclination
to try opium-smoking, or cocaine sniffing. The impulse is mere whim,
silly curiosity--the consequences may be degrading, terrible.