basis for the cultivation of character. The whole aim of education,
whether it be that received in the home, in the school, or the larger
and more protracted education of social life, has the aim and purpose of
securing the spontaneous response of a particular action to a particular
stimulus, or on the negative side that certain circumstances shall not
arouse desires of a socially unwelcome character. The phrase
"Patriotism" thus serves to arouse a group of feelings that cluster
round the state and social life. "Home" awakens its own groups of
domestic and parental feelings. "Duty," again, covers a wider sphere,
but involves the same process. By instruction and by training, certain
conditions, circumstances, words, or associations are made to call up
trains of connected feelings which, culminating in a desire,
imperatively demand conduct along a given line. The more complete the
education, the stronger the desire; the stronger the desire, the more
certain the action. The more defective the education the less the
certainty with which we can count upon specific conduct. The man who
acts to-day in one way and to-morrow in another way is not a man of
strong desires, so much as he is a man whose desires are undisciplined.
The man who acts with uniform certainty is not a man of weak desire, but
one whose desires run with strength and swiftness in a uniform
direction. And it is a curious feature of indeterministic psychology
that it should take as clear evidence of the subordination of desire to
"will" the man whose desire is so strong as to preclude hesitation
between it and action.
The whole of education, the whole of the discipline of life, is thus
based upon the determination of conduct by circumstances and character.
If the principle of cause and effect does not fully apply to conduct,
all our training is so much waste of time. But it is because we cannot
really think of the past not influencing the present, once we bring the
two into relation, that we, Determinist and Indeterminist alike, proceed
with our deterministic methods of training, and in this instance at
least wisdom is justified of her children.
Finally, if the above be granted, can we longer attach meaning to the
expression that man forms his own character? Well, if it means that a
man has any share in his psychic endowments, or that they being what
they are at any given time he could at that time act differently from
the way in which he does act, the expression is meaningless. It is
absolute nonsense. But in another sense it does convey an important
truth. We must, however, always bear in mind that in speaking of a
man's character we are not dealing with two things, but with one thing.
The character is the man, the man is the character. Or to be quite
accurate, body and mind, physical and psychical qualities together, form
the man, and any separation of these is for purposes of analysis and
study only. If we say, then, that a man is master of his own character,
or that a man may mould his own character, we do not imply the existence
of an independent entity moulding or mastering something else. We are
saying no more than that every experience carries its resultant into the
sum of character. Action generates habit, and habit means a more or less
permanent modification of character. What a man is, is the outcome of
what he has been, and a perception of this truth no more conflicts with
the principles of Determinism as above explained, than a stone being
intercepted in its fall down the side of a hill by lodging against a
tree is an infraction of the law of gravitation. In this sense, using
figurative language, a man may be said to be master of himself. What he
does proceeds from himself; it is the expression of his character, and
his doing cuts deeper the grooves of habit, and so makes more certain
the performance of similar actions in the future. It is the fact of the
motive springing from character which determines the act that makes the
man its author. And the knowledge of this supplies him with, not alone
the most powerful incentive towards the determination of his own
character, but, what is equally important, the only method whereby to
fashion the character of others.
VIII.
A PROBLEM IN DETERMINISM.
If human feeling followed logical conviction the discussion of
Determinism might, so far as the present writer is concerned, be
considered as finished. Ultimately this doubtless occurs; but in the
interim one has to reckon with the play of feeling, fashioned by
long-standing conviction, upon convictions that are of recent origin.
Thus it happens that many who realise the logical force of arguments
similar to those hitherto advanced, find themselves in a state of
fearfulness concerning the ultimate effect on human life of a convinced
Determinism. The conflict between feeling and conviction that exists in
their own minds they naturally ascribe to others, and endow it with a
permanency which mature consideration might show to be unwarranted. It
would indeed be strange and lamentable if the divorce between feeling
and conviction--to adopt a popular classification--was not simply
incidental to change, but was also an inexpugnable part of fundamental
aspects of human life.
Mr. A. J. Balfour has indeed gone so far as to suggest,[9] as a theory
to meet this phenomenon, that the immediate consciousness of our
actions being determined would be so paralyzing to action, that Nature
has by "a process of selective slaughter" made a consciousness of this
character a practical impossibility. But it would seem that the fact of
a consciousness of determination developing at all affords strong
presumptions in favour of the belief that no such selective slaughter is
really necessary to the maintenance of vital social relations. Mr.
Balfour's argument might have some weight against Fatalism, which says
that what is to be will be in despite of all that may be done to prevent
its occurrence; but we are on different ground with a theory which makes
what _I_ do part of the sequence that issues in a particular result.
[9] _International Journal of Ethics_, vol. iv.
pp. 421-422.
The problem is put very plainly in the following two quotations. The
first is from a private source, written by one who fears the
consequences of Determinism on conduct. The writer says:--
"In a moral crisis, and with the consciousness of a strong
tendency in the direction of what is felt to be wrong, is there
no danger of this desire gaining further strength and becoming
the predominant feeling by accepting Determinism, causing a
weakened sense of responsibility, besides providing a convenient
excuse for giving way to the lower instead of the higher? Thus
in a question of alternatives is it not conceivable that by
dwelling on this thought, the agent is resisting possibilities
which might otherwise have a different effect had Determinism no
advocacy and with a different competitive factor to oppose?
This, it seems to me, is what the Indeterminist fears, and I
think it must be admitted not without some reason."
The second comes from Mr. F. W. Headley's work, _Life and Evolution_.
Mr. Headley, after discussing the evolution of mind, and after admitting
the impregnable nature of the determinist position, says that
notwithstanding the evidence to the contrary we cannot help cherishing
the belief that we are in some sense "free," and adds:--
"For practical purposes what is wanted is not free-will but a
working belief in it. When the time for decision and for action
comes, a man must feel that he is free to choose or he is lost.
And this working belief in free-will, even though the thing
itself be proved to be a phantom and an illusion, is the
inalienable property of every healthy man."
Both these criticisms might be met by the method of analysing the use
made of certain leading words. For example, the Determinist would quite
agree that for conduct to be fruitful a man must feel that he is free to
choose. But unless his freedom consists in liberty to obey the dictates
of his real nature, the term is without significance. The fact of
choice, as has been pointed out, is common ground for both Determinist
and Indeterminist. The real question is whether the choice itself is
determined or not. What a man needs to feel is that his choice is
decisive, and that it is based upon an impartial review of the
alternatives as they appear to him. Determinism makes full allowance for
this; it is Indeterminism which in denying the application of causality
to the will substantially asserts that the whole training of a lifetime
may be counteracted by the decision of an uncaused will, and so renders
the whole process unintelligible. And as to Determinism causing a
weakened sense of responsibility, surely one may fairly argue that the
consciousness of the cumulative force of practice may well serve to warn
us against yielding to a vicious propensity, and so strengthen the
feeling of resistance to it. There could hardly be conceived a stronger
incentive to right action, or to struggle against unwholesome desires,
than this conviction. Moreover, the practical testimony of those who are
convinced Determinists is all in this direction. The fears are expressed
by those whose advocacy of Determinism is at best of but a lukewarm
description.
But in order that the full weight of the difficulty may be realized let
us put the matter in a still more forcible form. Determinism, it is to
be remembered, is an attempt to apply to mind and morals that principle
of causation which is of universal application in the physical world,
and where it has proved itself so fruitful and suggestive. On this
principle all that is flows from all that has been in such a way that,
given a complete knowledge of the capacities of all the forces in
operation at any one time, the world a century hence could be predicted
with mathematical accuracy. So likewise with human nature. Human conduct
being due to the interaction of organism with environment, our
inability to say what a person will do under given circumstances is no
more than an expression of our ignorance of the quantitative and
qualitative value of the forces operating. The possibilities of action
are co-extensive with the actualities of ignorance. There is no break in
the working of causation, no matter what the sphere of existence with
which we happen to be dealing.
It is at this point that Determinism lands one in what is apparently an
ethical _cul-de-sac_. If all that is, is the necessary result of all
that has been, if nothing different from what does occur could occur,
what is the meaning of the sense of power over circumstances that we
possess? And why urge people to make an effort in this or that direction
if everything, including the effort or its absence, is determined? I may
flatter myself with the notion that things are better because of some
action of mine. But beyond the mere fact that my action is part of the
stream of causation, all else is a trick of the imagination. My conduct
is, all the time, the result of the co-operation of past conditions with
present circumstances. To say that praise or blame of other people's
conduct, or approval or disapproval of my own conduct, is itself a
determinative force, hardly meets the point. For these, too, are part of
the determined order.
It might be urged that the knowledge that by exciting certain feelings
others are proportionately weakened operates in the direction of
improvement. Quite so; and as a mere description of what occurs the
statement is correct. But to the Determinist there is no "I" that
determines which feeling or cluster of feelings shall predominate. "I"
am the expression of the succession and co-ordination of mental states;
we are still within a closed circle of causation. Whether I am good or
bad, wise or unwise, I shall be what I must be, and nothing else; do as
I must do, and no more.
This is, I think, putting the Indeterminists' case as strongly as it can
be put. How is the Determinist to meet the attack? A common retort is
that all this being granted things remain as they were. If the criminal
action is determined so is that of the judge, and so no harm is done. We
shall go on praising or blaming, punishing or rewarding, doing or not
doing, exactly as before, simply because we cannot do otherwise. This,
however, while effective as a mere retort, is not very satisfactory as
an answer. For it neither explains the sense of power people feel they
possess, nor does it meet the criticism raised. On the one hand there is
the fact that character does undergo modification, and the conviction
that _my_ effort does play a part in securing that modification. And
with this there goes the feeling--with some--that if everything, mental
states and dispositions included, is part of an unbroken and unbreakable
order, why delude ourselves with the notion of personal power? Why not
let things drift? And on the other hand there is the conviction that
scientific Determinism holds the field. The state of mind is there, and
it is fairly expressed in the two quotations already given; particularly
in Mr. Headley's statement that we ought to act as though Free-Will were
a fact, even though we know it to be otherwise. The difficulty is
there, and one must admit that it is not always fairly faced by writers
on Determinism. An appeal is made to man's moral sense, and this, while
legitimate enough in some connections, is quite irrelevant in this. Or
it is said that a knowledge of the causational nature of morals should
place people on their guard against encouraging harmful states of mind.
This is also good counsel, but it clearly does not touch the point that,
whether I encourage harmful or beneficial states of mind, it is all part
of the determined order of things.
As an example of what has been said we may take a passage from John
Stuart Mill. In his criticism of Sir William Hamilton, Mill remarks:--
"The true doctrine of the causation of human actions maintains
... that not only our conduct, but our character, is, in part,
amenable to our will; that we can by employing the proper means,
improve our character; and that if our character is such that
while it remains what it is, it necessitates us to do wrong, it
will be just to apply motives which will necessitate us to
strive for its improvement, and so emancipate ourselves from the
other necessity; in other words, we are under a moral obligation
to seek the improvement of our moral character."
Admirable as is this passage it is clearly no reply to the criticism
that whether we seek moral improvement or not, either course is as much
necessitated as is the character that needs improving. To give a real
relevance to this passage we should have to assume the existence of an
ego outside the stream of causation deciding at what precise point it
should exert a determining influence. That so clear a thinker as Mill
should have overlooked this gives point to what has been said as to
writers on Determinism having failed to squarely face the issue.
A more valid reply to Mr. Headley's position would be that so long as we
believe a theory to be sound there is no real gain in acting as though
we were convinced otherwise. Granting that an illusion may have its
uses, it can only be of service so long as we do not know it to be an
illusion. A mirage of cool trees and sparkling pools may inspire tired
travellers in a desert to renewed efforts of locomotion. But if they
_know_ it to be a mirage it only serves to discourage effort. And once
we believe in Determinism, our right course, and our only profitable
course, is to face all the issues as courageously as may be. Not that a
correct reading of Determinism leads to our sitting with folded hands
lacking the spirit to strive for better things.
It may be that certain people so read Determinism, but one cannot
reasonably hold a theory responsible for every misreading of it that
exists. Theologians in particular would be in a very uncomfortable
position if this rule were adopted. A theory is responsible for such
conclusions or consequences as are logically deducible therefrom, but no
more. And what we are now concerned with is, first, will Determinism,
properly understood, really have the effect feared; and, second, is it
possible for Determinism to account adequately for the belief that it is
possible to modify other people's character, and in so doing modify our
own? In Mill's words, can we exchange the necessity to do wrong for the
necessity to do right? I believe that a satisfactory reply can be given
to both questions.
In the first place we have to get rid of the overpowering influence of
an atomistic psychology. A very little study of works on
psychology--particularly of the more orthodox schools--is enough to show
that the social medium as a factor determining man's mental nature has
been either ignored, or given a quite subordinate position. Because in
studying the mental qualities of man we are necessarily dealing with an
individual brain, it has been assumed that mental phenomena may be
explained with no more than a casual reference to anything beyond the
individual organism. This assumption may be sound so long as we are
dealing with mind as the function of definitely localized organs, or if
we are merely describing mental phenomena. It is when we pass to the
contents of the mind, and study the significance of mental states, or
enquire how they came into existence, that we find the atomistic
psychology breaking down, and we find ourselves compelled to deal with
mind as a psycho-sociologic phenomenon, with its relation to the social
medium. Then we discover that it is man's social relationships, the
innumerable generations of reaction between individual organisms and the
social medium, which supply the key to problems that are otherwise
insoluble.
It has already been pointed out that the whole significance of morality
is social. If we restrict ourselves to the individual no adequate
explanation can be given of such qualities as sympathy, honesty,
truthfulness, chastity, kindness, etc. Separate it in thought from the
social medium and morality becomes meaningless. Properly studied,
psychology yields much the same result. When we get beyond the
apprehension of such fundamental qualities as time and space, heat and
cold, colour and sound, the contour of man's mind, so to speak, is a
social product. His feelings and impulses imply a social medium as
surely as does morality. From this point of view the phrase "Social
sense" is no mere figure of speech; it is the expression of a pregnant
truth, the statement of something as real as any scientific law with
which we are acquainted.
For the essence of a scientific law is the expression of a relation. The
law of gravitation, for instance, formulates the relations existing
between particles of matter. If there existed but one particle of matter
in the universe gravitation would be a meaningless term. Introduce a
second particle, and a relation is established between the two, and the
material for a scientific "law" created. In the same way a description
of individual human qualities is fundamentally a statement of the
relations existing between individuals living in groups; and any attempt
to understand human nature without considering these relations is as
certainly foredoomed to failure as would be the attempt to study a
particle of matter apart from the operation of all known forces. The
individual as he exists to-day is not something that exists apart from
the social forces; he is an expression, an epitome, of all their past
and present operations. The really essential thing in the study of human
nature is not so much the discrete individual A or B, but the relations
existing between A and B. It is these which make each end of the term
what it is--determines the individual's language, feelings, thoughts,
and character.
It is along these lines that we have to look for an explanation of the
feeling that we can initiate a reform in character, and of a sense of
power in determining events. We start with a sense of power over the
course of events--which is interpreted as the equivalent of our ability
to initiate absolutely a change in our own character or in that of
others. But a little reflection convinces us--particularly if we call
ourselves Determinists--that this interpretation is quite erroneous. An
absolute beginning is no more conceivable in the mental or moral sphere
than it is in the physical world. The sum of all that is is the product
of all that has been, and in this, desires, feelings, dispositions are
included no less than physical properties. Now, curiously enough, the
conviction that an absolute change in character can be initiated exists
with much greater strength in regard to oneself than it does with regard
to others. It is easier to observe others than to analyze one's own
mental states, with the result that most people can more readily realize
that what others do is the product of their heredity and their
environment than they can realize it in their own case. Of course,
reflection shows that the same principle applies in both directions, but
we are here dealing with moods rather than with carefully reasoned out
convictions. And, generally speaking, while we _feel_ ourselves masters
of our own fate, we only suspect a similar strength in others. But each
one realizes, and with increasing vividness, the power he possesses in
modifying other people's character by a change of circumstances. We see
this illustrated by the increased emphasis placed upon the importance of
better sanitation, better housing, better conditions of labour, and of
an improved education. More from observing others than by studying
ourselves we see how modifiable a thing human nature is. We see how
character is modified by an alteration of the material environment, and
we also note our own individual function as a determinative influence in
effecting this modification.
Now I quite fail to see that there is in this sense of power over
circumstances anything more than a recognition of our own efforts as
part of the determinative sequence. The added factor to the general
causative series is the consciousness of man himself. We are conscious,
more or less clearly, of our place in the sequence; we are able to
recognize and study our relations to past and present events, and our
probable relation to future ones. We see ourselves as so many efficient
causes of those social reactions that go to make up a science of
sociology, and it is this which gives us a sense of _power_ of
determining events. I say "power" because "freedom" is an altogether
different thing. The question of whether we are free to determine
events is, as I have shown, meaningless when applied to scientific
matters. But the question of whether or not we have the _power_ of
determining events may be answered in the affirmative--an answer not in
the least affected by the belief that this power is strictly conditioned
by past and present circumstances. The sense of power is real, and it
expresses a fact, even though the fact be an inevitable one. We are all
shapers of each other's character, moulders of each other's destiny. The
recognition of our power to act in this relation is not contrary to
Determinism, Determinism implies it. It is this which gives a real
meaning to the expression "social sense." For the social sense can have
no other meaning or value than as a recognition of the action of one
individual upon another, which, as in the case of a chemical compound,
results in the production of something that is not given by the mere sum
of individual qualities.