MORALITY WITHOUT GOD.
(_Continued._)
In the preceding chapter I have been concerned with providing the most
meagre of skeleton outlines of the way in which our moral laws and our
moral sense have come into existence. To make this as clear as possible
the chapter was restricted to exposition. Controversial points were
avoided. And as a matter of fact there are many religionists who might
concede the truth of what has been said concerning the way in which
morality has arisen, and the nature of the forces that have assisted in
its development. But they would proceed to argue, as men like Mr.
Balfour and Mr. Benjamin Kidd, with others of the like, have argued,
that a natural morality lacks all coercive power. The Freethought
explanation of morality, they say, is plausible enough, and may be
correct, but in conduct we have to deal not merely with the correctness
of things but with sanctions and motives that exercise a compulsive
influence on men and women. The religionist, it is argued, has such a
compulsive force in the belief in God and in the effect on our future
life of our obedience or disobedience to his commands. But what kind of
coercion can a purely naturalistic system of morals exert? If a man is
content to obey the naturalistic command to practise certain virtues and
to abstain from certain vices, well and good. But suppose he chooses to
disregard it. What then? Above all, on what compulsion is a man to
disregard his own inclinations to act as seems desirable to himself,
and not in conformity with the general welfare? We disregard the
religious appeal as pure sentimentalism, or worse, and we at once
institute an ethical sentimentalism which is, in practice, foredoomed to
failure.
Or to put the same point in another way. Each individual, we say, should
so act as to promote the general welfare. Freethinker and religionist
are in agreement here. And so long as one's inclinations jump with the
advice no difficulty presents itself. But suppose a man's inclinations
do not run in the desired direction? You tell him that he must act so as
to promote the general well-being, and he replies that he is not
concerned with the promotion of the public welfare. You say that he
_ought_ to act differently, and he replies, "My happiness must consist
in what I regard as such, not in other people's conception of what it
should be." You proceed to point out that by persisting in his present
line of conduct he is laying up trouble for the future, and he retorts,
"I am willing to take the risk." What is to be done with him? Can
naturalism show that in acting in that way a man is behaving
unreasonably, that is, in the sense that he can be shown to be really
acting against his own interests, and that if he knew better he would
act differently?
Now before attempting a reply to this it is worth while pointing out
that whatever strength there may be in this criticism when directed
against naturalism, it is equally strong when directed against
supernaturalism. We can see this at once if we merely vary the terms.
You tell a man to act in this or that way "in the name of God." He
replies, "I do not believe in God," and your injunction loses all force.
Or, if he believes in God, and you threaten him with the pains and
penalties of a future life, he may reply, "I am quite willing to risk a
probable punishment hereafter for a certain pleasure here." And it is
certain that many do take the risk, whether they express their
determination to do so in as many words or not.
What is a supernaturalist compelled to do in this case? His method of
procedure is bound to be something like the following. First of all he
will seek to create assent to a particular proposition such as "God
exists, and also that a belief in his existence creates an obligation to
act in this or that manner in accordance with what is believed to be his
will." That proposition once established, his next business will be to
bring the subject's inclinations into line with a prescribed course of
action. He is thus acting in precisely the same manner as is the
naturalist who starts from an altogether different set of premises. And
both are resting their teaching of morals upon an intellectual
proposition to which assent is either implied or expressed. And that
lies at the basis of all ethical teaching--not ethical practice, be it
observed, but teaching. The precise form in which this intellectual
proposition is cast matters little. It may be the existence of God, or
it may be a particular view of human nature or of human evolution, but
it is there, and in either case the authoritative character of moral
precepts exists for such as accept it, and for none other. Moral
practice is rooted in life, but moral theory is a different matter.
So far, then, it is clear that the complaint that Freethought ethics has
nothing about it of a compulsive or authoritative character is either a
begging of the question or it is absurd.
Naturalistic ethics really assert three things. The first is that the
continuance of life ensures the performance of a certain level of
conduct, conduct being merely one of the means by which human beings
react to the necessities of their environment. Second, it asserts that
a proper understanding of the conditions of existence will in the
normally constituted mind strengthen the development of a feeling of
obligation to act in such and such a manner; and that while all
non-reasonable conduct is not immoral, all immoral conduct is
fundamentally irrational. Third, there is the further assumption that at
bottom individual and general welfare are not contradictory, but two
aspects of the same thing.
Concerning the second point, Sir Leslie Stephen warns us (_Science of
Ethics_, p. 437) that every attempt so to state the ethical principle
that disobedience will be "unreasonable" is "doomed to failure in a
world which is not made up of working syllogisms." And for the other two
points Professor Sorley (_Ethics of Naturalism_, p. 42) tells us that
"It is difficult ... to offer any consideration fitted to convince the
individual that it is reasonable for him to seek the happiness of the
community rather than his own"; while Mr. Benjamin Kidd asserts that
"the interests of the individual and those of the social organism are
not either identical or capable of being reconciled, as has been
necessarily assumed in all those systems of ethics which have sought to
establish a naturalistic basis of conduct. The two are fundamentally and
inherently irreconcilable, and a large proportion of the existing
individuals at any time have ... no personal interest whatever in the
progress of the race, or in the social development we are undergoing."
It has already been said that however difficult it may be to establish
the precise relationship between reason and ethical commands, such a
connection must be assumed, whether we base our ethics on naturalistic
or supernaturalistic considerations. And it cannot be denied by anyone
to-day that a causal relation must exist between actions and their
consequences, whether those causal consequences be of the natural and
non-moral kind, or of the more definitely moral order such as exists in
the shape of social approval and disapproval. And if we once grant that,
then it seems quite allowable to assume that provided a man perceives
the reason underlying moral judgments, and also the justification for
the sense of approval and disapproval expressed, we have as much reason
for calling his conduct reasonable or unreasonable as we have for
applying the same terms to a man's behaviour in dressing in view of the
variations of the temperature.
Consequently, while I agree that _in the present state of knowledge_ it
is impossible in all cases to demonstrate that immoral conduct is
irrational in the sense that it would be unreasonable to refuse assent
to a mathematical proposition, there seems no justification for
regarding such a state of things as of necessity permanent. If a
scientific system of ethics consists in formulating rules for the
profitable guidance of life, not only does their formulation presuppose
a certain constancy in the laws of human nature and of the world in
general, but the assumption is also involved that one day it may be
possible to give to moral laws the same precision that now is attached
to physiological laws and to label departure from them as "unreasonable"
in a very real sense of the word.
The other objection that it is impossible to establish a "reasonable"
relation between individual and social well-being arises from a dual
confusion as to what is the proper sphere of ethics, and of the mutual
relation of the individual and society. To take an individual and ask,
"Why should he act so as to promote the general welfare?" is to imply
that ethical rules may have an application to man out of relation with
his fellows. That, we have already seen, is quite wrong, since moral
rules fail to be intelligible once we separate man from his fellows.
Discussing ethics while leaving out social life is like discussing the
functions of the lungs and leaving out of account the existence of an
atmosphere.
If, then, instead of treating the individual and society as two distinct
things, either of which may profit at the expense of the other, we treat
them as two sides of the same thing, each an abstraction when treated
alone, the problem is simplified, and the solution becomes appreciably
easier. For the essential truth here is that just as there is no such
thing as a society in the absence of the individuals composing it, so
the individual, as we know him, disappears when we strip him of all that
he is in virtue of his being a part of the social structure. Every one
of the characteristic human qualities has been developed in response to
the requirements of the social medium. It is in virtue of this that
morality has anything of an imperative nature connected with it, for if
man is, to use Sir Leslie Stephen's phrase, a cell in the social tissue,
receiving injury as the body social is injured, and benefitting as it is
benefitted, then the refusal of a man to act so that he may promote the
general welfare can be shown to be unreasonable, and also unprofitable
to the individual himself. In other words, our efficiency as an
individual must be measured in terms of our fitness to form part of the
social structure, and consequently the antithesis between social and
personal well-being is only on the surface. Deeper knowledge and a more
exact understanding reveals them as two sides of the same fact.
It may be granted to Mr. Kidd that "a large proportion of the existing
individuals at any time" have no _conscious_ interest in "the progress
of the race or in the development we are undergoing," and that is only
what one would expect, but it would be absurd to therefore come to the
conclusion that no such identity of interest exists. Moliere's
character, who all his life had been talking prose without knowing it,
is only a type of the majority of folk who all their lives are acting in
accordance with principles of which they are ignorant, and which they
may even repudiate when they are explained to them. From one point of
view the whole object of a scientific morality is to awaken a conscious
recognition of the principles underlying conduct, and by this means to
strengthen the disposition to right action. We make explicit in language
what has hitherto been implicit in action, and thus bring conscious
effort to the aid of non-conscious or semi-conscious behaviour.
In the light of the above consideration the long and wordy contest that
has been waged between "Altruists" and "Egoists" is seen to be very
largely a waste of time and a splutter of words. If it can be shown on
the one hand that all men are not animated by the desire to benefit
self, it is as easy to demonstrate that so long as human nature is human
nature, all conduct must be an expression of individual character, and
that even the morality of self-sacrifice is self-regarding viewed from
the personal feelings of the agent. And it being clear that the position
of Egoist and Altruist, while each expressing a truth, is neither
expressing the whole truth, and that each does in fact embody a definite
error, it seems probable that here, as in so many other cases, the truth
lies between the two extremes, and that a reconciliation may be effected
along these lines.
Taking animal life as a whole it is at least clear that what are called
the self-regarding feelings must come first in order of development.
Even with the lower races of human beings there is less concern shown
with the feelings and welfare of others than is the case with the
higher races of men. Or, again, with children we have these feelings
strongest in childhood and undergoing a gradual expansion as maturity is
reached. This is brought about, as was shown in the last chapter, not by
the destruction of existing feelings, but by their extension to an ever
widening area. There is a transformation, or an elaboration of existing
feelings under the pressure of social growth. One may say that ethical
development does not proceed by the destruction of the feeling of
self-interest, so much as by its extension to a wider field. Ethical
growth is thus on all fours with biological growth. In biology we are
all familiar with the truth that maintenance of life is dependent upon
the existence of harmonious relations between an organism and its
environment. Yet it is not always recognized that this principle is as
true of the moral self as it is of the physical structure, nor that in
human evolution the existence of others becomes of increasing importance
and significance. For not only do I have to adapt myself, mentally and
morally, to the society now existing, but also to societies that have
long since passed away and have left their contribution to the building
up of _my_ environment in the shape of institutions and beliefs and
literature.
We have in this one more illustration that while the environment of the
animal is overwhelmingly physical in character, that of man tends to
become overwhelmingly social or psychological. Desires are created that
can only be gratified by the presence and the labour of others. Feelings
arise that have direct reference to others, and in numerous ways a body
of "altruistic" feeling is created. So by social growth first, and
afterwards by reflection, man is taught that the only life that is
enjoyable to himself is one that is lived in the companionship and by
the co-operation of others. As Professor Ziegler well puts the
process:--
Not only on the one hand does it concern the interests of the
general welfare that every individual should take care of himself
outwardly and inwardly; maintain his health; cultivate his
faculties and powers; sustain his position, honour, and worth, and
so his own welfare being secured, diffuse around him happiness and
comfort; but also, on the other hand, it concerns the personal,
well understood interests of the individual himself that he should
promote the interests of others, contribute to their happiness,
serve their interests, and even make sacrifices for them. Just as
one forgoes a momentary pleasure in order to secure a lasting and
greater enjoyment, so the individual willingly sacrifices his
personal welfare and comfort for the sake of society in order to
share in the welfare of this society; he buries his individual
well-being in order that he may see it rise in richer and fuller
abundance in the welfare and happiness of the whole community
(_Social Ethics_, pp. 59-60).
These motives are not of necessity conscious ones. No one imagines that
before performing a social action each one sits down and goes through a
more or less elaborate calculation. All that has been written on this
head concerning a "Utilitarian calculus" is poor fun and quite beside
the mark. In this matter, as in so many others, it is the evolutionary
process which demands consideration, and generations of social struggle,
by weeding out individuals whose inclinations were of a pronounced
anti-social kind, and tribes in which the cohesion between its members
was weak, have resulted in bringing about more or less of an
identification between individual desires and the general welfare. It is
not a question of conscious evolution so much as of our becoming
conscious of an evolution that is taking place, and in discussing the
nature of morals one is bound to go beyond the expressed reasons for
conduct--more often wrong than right--and discover the deeper and truer
causes of instincts and actions. When this is done it will be found that
while it is absolutely impossible to destroy the connection between
conduct and self-regarding actions, there is proceeding a growing
identity between the gratification of desire and the well-being of the
whole. This will be, not because of some fantastical or ascetic teaching
of self-sacrifice, but because man being an expression of social life is
bound to find in activities that have a social reference the beginning
and end of his conduct.
The fears of a morality without God are, therefore, quite unfounded. If
what has been said be granted, it follows that all ethical rules are
primarily on the same level as a generalization in any of the sciences.
Just as the "laws" of astronomy or of biology reduce to order the
apparently chaotic phenomena of their respective departments, so ethical
laws seek to reduce to an intelligible order the conditions of
individual and social betterment. There can be no ultimate antithesis
between individual reason and the highest form of social conduct,
although there may exist an apparent conflict between the two, chiefly
owing to the fact that we are often unable to trace the remote effects
of conduct on self and society. Nor can there be an ultimate or
permanent conflict between the true interests of the individual and of
society at large. That such an opposition does exist in the minds of
many is true, but it is here worthy of note that the clearest and most
profound thinkers have always found in the field of social effort the
best sphere for the gratification of their desires. And here again we
may confidently hope that an increased and more accurate appreciation
of the causes that determine human welfare will do much to diminish
this antagonism. At any rate it is clear that human nature has been
moulded in accordance with the reactions of self and society in such a
way that even the self has become an expression of social life, and with
this dual aspect before us there is no reason why emphasis should be
laid on one factor rather than on the other.
To sum up. Eliminating the form of coercion that is represented by a
policeman, earthly or otherwise, we may safely say that a naturalistic
ethics has all the coercive force that can be possessed by any system.
And it has this advantage over the coercive force of the
supernaturalist, that while the latter tends to weaken with the advance
of intelligence, the former gains strength as men and women begin to
more clearly appreciate the true conditions of social life and
development. It is in this way that there is finally established a
connection between what is "reasonable" and what is right. In this case
it is the function of reason to discover the forces that have made for
the moralization--really the socialization--of man, and so strengthen
man's moral nature by demonstrating the fundamental identity between his
own welfare and that of the group to which he belongs. That the coercion
may in some cases be quite ineffective must be admitted. There will
always, one fancies, be cases where the personal character refuses to
adapt itself to the current social state. That is a form of
mal-adaptation which society will always have to face, exactly as it has
to face cases of atavism in other directions. But the socializing and
moralizing process continues. And however much this may be, in its
earlier stages, entangled with conceptions of the supernatural, it is
certain that growth will involve the disappearance of that factor here
as it has done elsewhere.