SCIENCE AND HAPPINESS
The purpose of the moralist is to improve men’s behaviour. This is
a laudable ambition, since their behaviour is for the most part
deplorable. But I cannot praise the moralist either for the particular
improvements he desires, or for the methods he adopts for achieving
them. His ostensible method is moral exhortation; his real method
(if he is orthodox) is a system of economic rewards and punishments.
The former effects nothing permanent or important; the influence
of revivalists, from Savonarola downwards, has always been very
transitory. The latter――the rewards and punishments――have a very
considerable effect. They cause a man, for example, to prefer casual
prostitutes to a quasi-permanent mistress, because it is necessary to
adopt the method which is most easily concealed. They thus keep up the
numbers of a very dangerous profession, and secure the prevalence of
venereal disease. These are not the objects desired by the moralist,
and he is too unscientific to notice that they are the objects which he
actually achieves.
Is there anything better to be substituted for this unscientific
mixture of preaching and bribery? I think there is.
Men’s actions are harmful either from ignorance or from bad desires.
“Bad” desires, when we are speaking from a social point of view, may
be defined as those which tend to thwart the desires of others, or,
more exactly, those which thwart more desires than they assist. It
is not necessary to dwell upon the harmfulness that springs from
ignorance; here, more knowledge is all that is wanted, so that the
road to improvement lies in more research and more education. But the
harmfulness that springs from bad desires is a more difficult matter.
In the ordinary man and woman there is a certain amount of active
malevolence, both special ill-will directed to particular enemies
and general impersonal pleasure in the misfortunes of others. It
is customary to cover this over with fine phrases; about half of
conventional morality is a cloak for it. But it must be faced if the
moralists’ aim of improving our actions is to be achieved. It is shown
in a thousand ways, great and small: in the glee with which people
repeat and believe scandal, in the unkind treatment of criminals in
spite of clear proof that better treatment would have more effect in
reforming them, in the unbelievable barbarity with which all white
races treat negroes, and in the gusto with which old ladies and
clergymen pointed out the duty of military service to young men during
the War. Even children may be the objects of wanton cruelty: David
Copperfield and Oliver Twist are by no means imaginary. This active
malevolence is the worst feature of human nature, and the one which it
is most necessary to change if the world is to grow happier. Probably
this one cause has more to do with war than all the economic and
political causes put together.
Given this problem of preventing malevolence, how shall we deal with
it? First let us try to understand its causes. These are, I think,
partly social, partly physiological. The world, now as much as at any
former time, is based upon life-and-death competition; the question
at issue in the War was whether German or Allied children should die
of want and starvation. (Apart from malevolence on both sides, there
was not the slightest reason why both should not survive). Most people
have in the background of their minds a haunting fear of ruin; this
is especially true of people who have children. The rich fear that
Bolsheviks will confiscate their investments; the poor fear that they
will lose their job or their health. Every one is engaged in the
frantic pursuit of “security”, and imagines that this is to be achieved
by keeping potential enemies in subjection. It is in moments of panic
that cruelty becomes most wide-spread and most atrocious. Reactionaries
everywhere appeal to fear: in England, to fear of Bolshevism; in
France, to fear of Germany; in Germany, to fear of France. And the
sole effect of their appeals is to increase the danger against which
they wish to be protected.
It must, therefore, be one of the chief concerns of the scientific
moralist to combat fear. This can be done in two ways: by increasing
security, and by cultivating courage. I am speaking of fear as
an irrational passion, not of the rational prevision of possible
misfortune. When a theatre catches fire, the rational man foresees
disaster just as clearly as the man stricken with panic, but he adopts
methods likely to diminish the disaster, whereas the man stricken with
panic increases it. Europe since 1914 has been like a panic-stricken
audience in a theatre on fire; what is needed is calm, authoritative
directions as to how to escape without trampling each other to pieces
in the process. The Victorian age, for all its humbug, was a period of
rapid progress, because men were dominated by hope rather than fear. If
we are again to have progress, we must again be dominated by hope.
Everything that increases the general security is likely to diminish
cruelty. This applies to prevention of war, whether through the
instrumentality of the League of Nations, or otherwise; to prevention
of destitution; to better health by improvement in medicine, hygiene,
and sanitation; and to all other methods of lessening the terrors that
lurk in the abysses of men’s minds and emerge as nightmares when they
sleep. But nothing is accomplished by an attempt to make a portion of
mankind secure at the expense of another portion――Frenchmen at the
expense of Germans, capitalists at the expense of wage-earners, white
men at the expense of yellow men, and so on. Such methods only increase
terror in the dominant group, lest just resentment should lead the
oppressed to rebel. Only justice can give security; and by “justice” I
mean the recognition of the equal claims of all human beings.
In addition to social changes designed to bring security, there is,
however, another and more direct means of diminishing fear, namely
by a regimen designed to increase courage. Owing to the importance
of courage in battle, men early discovered means of increasing it by
education and diet――eating human flesh, for example, was supposed
to be useful. But military courage was to be the prerogative of the
ruling caste: Spartans were to have more than helots, British officers
than Indian privates, men than women, and so on. For centuries it
was supposed to be the privilege of the aristocracy. Every increase
of courage in the ruling caste was used to increase the burdens on
the oppressed, and therefore to increase the grounds for fear in the
oppressors, and therefore to leave the causes of cruelty undiminished.
Courage must be democratized before it can make men humane.
To a great extent, courage has already been democratized by recent
events. The suffragettes showed that they possessed as much courage
as the bravest men; this demonstration was essential in winning them
the vote. The common soldier in the War needed as much courage as a
Captain or Lieutenant, and much more than a General: this had much to
do with his lack of servility after demobilization. The Bolsheviks, who
proclaim themselves the champions of the proletariat, are not lacking
in courage, whatever else may be said of them; this is proved by their
pre-revolutionary record. In Japan, where formerly the samurai had a
monopoly of martial ardour, conscription brought the need of courage
throughout the male population. Thus among all the Great Powers much
has been done during the past half-century to make courage no longer
an aristocratic monopoly: if this were not the case, the danger to
democracy would be far greater than it is.
But courage in fighting is by no means the only form, nor perhaps even
the most important. There is courage in facing poverty, courage in
facing derision, courage in facing the hostility of one’s own herd. In
these, the bravest soldiers are often lamentably deficient. And above
all there is the courage to think calmly and rationally in the face
of danger, and to control the impulse of panic fear or panic rage.
These are certainly things which education can help to give. And the
teaching of every form of courage is rendered easier by good health,
good physique, adequate nourishment, and free play for fundamental
vital impulses. Perhaps the physiological sources of courage could
be discovered by comparing the blood of a cat with that of a rabbit.
In all likelihood there is no limit to what science could do in the
way of increasing courage, by example, experience of danger, an
athletic life, and a suitable diet. All these things our upper-class
boys to a great extent enjoy, but as yet they are in the main the
prerogative of wealth. The courage so far encouraged in the poorer
sections of the community is courage under orders, not the kind that
involves initiative and leadership. When the qualities that now confer
leadership have become universal, there will no longer be leaders and
followers, and democracy will have been realized at last.
But fear is not the only source of malevolence; envy and disappointment
also have their share. The envy of cripples and hunchbacks is
proverbial as a source of malignity, but other misfortunes than
theirs produce similar results. A man or woman who has been thwarted
sexually is apt to be full of envy; this generally takes the form of
moral condemnation of the more fortunate. Much of the driving force
of revolutionary movement is due to envy of the rich. Jealousy is, of
course, a special form of envy: envy of love. The old often envy the
young; when they do, they are apt to treat them cruelly.
There is, so far as I know, no way of dealing with envy except to make
the lives of the envious happier and fuller, and to encourage in youth
the idea of collective enterprises rather than competition. The worst
forms of envy are in those who have not had a full life in the way of
marriage, or children, or career. Such misfortunes could in most cases
be avoided by better social institutions. Still, it must be admitted
that a residuum of envy is likely to remain. There are many instances
in history of Generals so jealous of each other that they preferred
defeat to enhancement of the other’s reputation. Two politicians of
the same party, or two artists of the same school are almost sure
to be jealous of one another. In such cases, there seems nothing to
be done except to arrange, as far as possible, that each competitor
shall be unable to injure the other, and shall only be able to win by
superior merit. An artist’s jealousy of a rival usually does little
harm, because the only effective way of indulging it is to paint better
pictures than his rival’s, since it is not open to him to destroy his
rival’s pictures. Where envy is unavoidable, it must be used as a
stimulus to one’s own efforts, not to the thwarting of the efforts of
rivals.
The possibilities of science in the way of increasing human happiness
are not confined to diminishing those aspects of human nature which
make for mutual defeat, and which we therefore call “bad”. There is
probably no limit to what science can do in the way of increasing
positive excellence. Health has already been greatly improved; in spite
of the lamentations of those who idealize the past, we live longer
and have fewer illnesses than any class or nation in the eighteenth
century. With a little more application of the knowledge we already
possess, we might be much healthier than we are. And future discoveries
are likely to accelerate this process enormously.
So far, it has been physical science that has had most effect upon
our lives, but in the future physiology and psychology are likely to
be far more potent. When we have discovered how character depends upon
physiological conditions, we shall be able, if we choose, to produce
far more of the type of human beings that we admire. Intelligence,
artistic capacity, benevolence――all these things no doubt could be
increased by science. There seems scarcely any limit to what _could_
be done in the way of producing a good world, if only men would use
science wisely. I have expressed elsewhere my fears that men may not
make a wise use of the power they derive from science.[B] At present I
am concerned with the good that men could do if they chose, not with
the question whether they will choose rather to do harm.
[B] See _Icarus_.
There is a certain attitude about the application of science to
human life with which I have some sympathy, though I do not, in the
last analysis, agree with it. It is the attitude of those who dread
what is “unnatural.” Rousseau is, of course, the great protagonist
of this view in Europe. In Asia, Lao-Tze has set it forth even more
persuasively, and 2400 years sooner. I think there is a mixture
of truth and falsehood in the admiration of “nature,” which it is
important to disentangle. To begin with, what is “natural”? Roughly
speaking, anything to which the speaker was accustomed in childhood.
Lao-Tze objects to roads and carriages and boats, all of which were
probably unknown in the village where he was born. Rousseau has got
used to these things, and does not regard them as against nature. But
he would no doubt have thundered against railways if he had lived
to see them. Clothes and cooking are too ancient to be denounced by
most of the apostles of nature, though they all object to new fashions
in either. Birth-control is thought wicked by people who tolerate
celibacy, because the former is a new violation of nature and the
latter an ancient one. In all these ways those who preach “nature” are
inconsistent, and one is tempted to regard them as mere conservatives.
Nevertheless, there is something to be said in their favour. Take for
instance vitamines, the discovery of which has produced a revulsion
in favour of “natural” foods. It seems, however, that vitamines can
be supplied by cod-liver oil and electric light, which are certainly
not part of the “natural” diet of a human being. This case illustrates
that, in the absence of knowledge, unexpected harm may be done by a new
departure from nature; but when the harm has come to be understood
it can usually be remedied by some new artificiality. As regards our
physical environment and our physical means of gratifying our desires,
I do not think the doctrine of “nature” justifies anything beyond
a certain experimental caution in the adoption of new expedients.
Clothes, for instance, are contrary to nature, and need to be
supplemented by another unnatural practice, namely washing, if they
are not to bring disease. But the two practices together make a man
healthier than the savage who eschews both.
There is much more to be said for “nature” in the realm of human
desires. To force upon man, woman, or child a life which thwarts their
strongest impulses is both cruel and dangerous in this sense, a life
according to “nature” is to be commended with certain provisos. Nothing
could be more artificial than an underground electric railway, but no
violence is done to a child’s nature when it is taken to travel in one;
on the contrary, almost all children find the experience delightful.
Artificialities which gratify the desires of ordinary human beings
are good, other things being equal. But there is nothing to be said
for ways of life which are artificial in the sense of being imposed
by authority or economic necessity. Such ways of life are, no doubt,
to some extent necessary at present; ocean travel would become very
difficult if there were no stokers on steamers. But necessities of this
kind are regrettable, and we ought to look for ways of avoiding them. A
certain amount of work is not a thing to complain of; indeed, in nine
cases out of ten, it makes a man happier than complete idleness. But
the amount and kind of work that most people have to do at present is
a grave evil: especially bad is the life-long bondage to routine. Life
should not be too closely regulated or too methodical; our impulses,
when not positively destructive or injurious to others, ought if
possible to have free play; there should be room for adventure. Human
nature we should respect, because our impulses and desires are the
stuff out of which our happiness is to be made. It is no use to give
men something abstractly considered “good”; we must give them something
desired or needed if we are to add to their happiness. Science may
learn in time to mould our desires so that they shall not conflict with
those of other people to the same extent as they do now; then we shall
be able to satisfy a larger proportion of our desires than at present.
In that sense, but in that sense only, our desires will then have
become “better.” A single desire is no better and no worse, considered
in isolation, than any other; but a group of desires is better than
another group if all of the first group can be satisfied simultaneously
while in the second group some are inconsistent with others. That is
why love is better than hatred.
To respect physical nature is foolish; physical nature should be
studied with a view to making it serve human ends as far as possible,
but it remains ethically neither good nor bad. And where physical
nature and human nature interact, as in the population question, there
is no need to fold our hands in passive adoration and accept war,
pestilence, and famine as the only possible means of dealing with
excessive fertility. The divines say: it is wicked, in this matter, to
apply science to the physical side of the problem; we must (they say)
apply morals to the human side, and practise abstinence. Apart from
the fact that every one, including the divines, knows that their advice
will not be taken, why should it be wicked to solve the population
question by adopting physical means for preventing conception? No
answer is forthcoming except one based upon antiquated dogmas. And
clearly the violence to nature advocated by the divines is at least
as great as that involved in birth-control. The divines prefer a
violence to human nature which, when successfully practised, involves
unhappiness, envy, a tendency to persecution, often madness. I prefer
a “violence” to physical nature which is of the same sort as that
involved in the steam engine or even in the use of fire. This instance
shows how ambiguous and uncertain is the application of the principle
that we should follow “nature.”
Nature, even human nature, will cease more and more to be an absolute
datum; more and more it will become what scientific manipulation has
made it. Science can, if it chooses, enable our grandchildren to live
the good life, by giving them knowledge, self-control, and characters
productive of harmony rather than strife. At present it is teaching our
children to kill each other, because many men of science are willing to
sacrifice the future of mankind to their own momentary prosperity. But
this phase will pass when men have acquired the same domination over
their own passions that they already have over the physical forces of
the external world. Then at last we shall have won our freedom.
* * * * *
Transcriber’s Notes:
――Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
――Obvious spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected.
――Archaic and variable spelling and punctuation have been preserved.
――Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.