connection with civilization, determining the latter in its loftier
aspects, then the freedom of thought of modern subjectivism has proved its
incompetence as a power for civilization; it can produce only a
sham-civilization, it can incite the minds and keep them in nervous
tension, until, tired of fruitless endeavour, they yield to pessimism.
However painful it may be to admit it, this freedom of thought is and
remains the principle of natural decadence of all the higher elements of a
culture that is not determined by the number of guns, by steam-engines,
and high-schools for girls, but which consists, chiefly, in a steadfast,
ideal condition of reason and will, from which all else obtains
significance and value. What further proof of intellectual and cultural
incompetence can be demanded which this principle has not furnished
already?
If this be the fact, then it follows in turn that in the life of higher
culture, where the health of the soul and the marrow of mental life is at
stake, there can rule but a single principle, the _objectivism of
Christian thought_, the principle of absolute submission, without variance
and change, to a truth against which man has no rights. The submission of
Christian thought to a religious, teaching authority, recognized as
infallible in all matters pertaining to its domain, while not an
exhaustive presentment of this principle, is its perceptive and concrete
effect.
A Rock in the Waters.
The history of human thought of all ages, but especially of the last
centuries, proves how necessary a divine revelation is to man; viz., the
clear exposition of the highest truths in the view of world and of life,
emphasized by a divine authority, which links the human mind to the one
immutable truth; not only in ignorant nations, not only in the man of the
common people, but also, and more especially, in the educated man and in
the scientist, he, namely, who, through the moderate studies of a small
intellect, has collected a little sum of knowledge that is apt to confuse
his limited understanding and to rob him of modesty. It is just as
manifest that revelation alone does not suffice, that there is needed also
the enduring forum of a teaching Church, which in the course of centuries
gives expression to truth with infallible, binding authority.
The full truth of this is felt even by those unfavourably disposed toward
this authority. A recent champion of autonomous freedom of thought, the
Protestant theologian, _F. Troeltsch_, makes this concession in the words:
“The immediate consequence of such autonomy is necessarily a steadily more
intensified individualism of convictions, opinions, theories, and
practical ends and aims. An absolute supra-individual union is effected
only by an enormous power such as the belief in an immediate,
supernatural, divine, revelation, as possessed by Catholicism, and
organized in the Church as the extended and continued incarnation of God.
This tie gone, the necessary sequel will be a splitting up in all sorts of
human opinions.”(17)
This is to the Catholic a caution to appreciate the ministry of his Church
ever more highly, and to cleave to it still closer. He will not agree with
those who think that in our time the principle of Authority must retire.
The more his eyes are opened by the present situation, the more clearly he
realizes where thought emancipated from faith and authority has led, the
more he will affirm his conscious belief in authority. His foothold upon
the rock of the Church will be the firmer the more restless the billows of
unsafe opinions rise and roll about him. The Catholic of mature, Catholic,
conviction would consider it folly to abandon the rock for the restless
and turbulent play of the waves. Many, indeed, who are looking for a safe
place of truth, we see for this reason taking refuge in a strong Church;
many are impressed by the stability of Catholic authority.(18)
The present situation is similar socially to that of the ancient world at
its close, and also in regard to the spiritual life. Then, as now, there
was learning without idealism, corroded by scepticism, without harmony and
cheer. Then, as now, there was but one power to offer rescue. Faith and
Church. A longing for help is now also prevailing in the world. It feels
its helplessness. If they only had the conviction of a _St. Augustine_,
who prayed for deliverance from his errors: “When I often and forcefully
realized the agility, sagacity, and acumen of the human mind, I could not
believe that truth was hidden completely from us—rather only the way and
manner how to discover it, and that we must accept these from a divine
authority” (_De utilit. credendi_, 8).
‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐
It was a solemn hour, pregnant with profound significance, when at
midnight at the beginning of this century all the churchbells of the
Catholic globe were ringing, and, while everything around was silent,
their blessed sound was resounding alone over the earth, over villages and
cities, over countries and nations. Grandly there resounded into the whole
world, over the heads of the children of men about to enter upon a new
century of their history, that the Catholic Church is the Queen in the
realm of mind, that she alone preserves infallibly the truths and ideals
of which mankind is in quest, by which they are raised above earthly
turmoil—those truths and ideals in which the heart and mind of earthly
pilgrims find rest and peace on their long journey to the goal of time.
Since she assumed the mission of Him who said, “I am the Way and the
Truth,” and, “I am with you all days, even unto the consummation of the
world,” the Church has travelled a long way through the centuries, has
withstood hard times and fierce storms. And she has faithfully preserved
for mankind the precious patrimony from God’s hand. And now, at the dawn
of new times, her bells proclaimed that she is still alive, holding the
old truths in a strong hand. And after another century the bells of the
globe will ring again, they will, so we hope—ring more loudly and more
forcefully, over the nations. And these bells will also ring over the
graves of this present generation, over fallen giants of the forest and
over collapsed towers, over mouldy books, and the wreckage left by a
culture that the emancipated, fallible human mind created, but which truth
did not consecrate. And again the bells will proclaim to a new century
that God, and the world’s history, are thinking greater thoughts than the
puny child of man is capable of thinking within the narrow compass of his
years and of his surroundings.
FOURTH SECTION. FREEDOM OF TEACHING.
Preliminary Conceptions and Distinctions.
Acquisition and distribution, labour and communication of the fruits of
labour, are the two factors that determine the progress of mankind. Thus
the precious metal is mined and brought to the surface by the labourer,
whence it speeds through the world; thus the faithful missionary journeys
into remote countries, to disseminate there the mental treasures acquired
by study and hard religious effort. And thus science desires to work, and
should work, for the culture and progress of mankind, and this work is
pre-eminently its task. To properly pursue this vocation science demands
freedom, _freedom in research and teaching_. There is, as we have already
pointed out, an important distinction between the two. Although research
and teaching are mostly joined, the former only attaining its chief end in
teaching, there is a real difference between the two elements; and not
unfrequently they are separated. It makes quite a difference whether some
one within the four walls of his room studies anarchy, or whether he
proceeds to proclaim its principles to the world; it is quite different
whether a man embraces atheism for his personal use only, or whether he
makes propaganda for it from the pulpit; it makes also a world of
difference whether a man is personally convinced that materialism is the
sole truth, or whether he proclaims it as a science, and is able to affirm
that of the German edition of “Welträtsel” 200,000 copies have been sold,
of the English edition about as many, and that a dozen other translations
have spread the fundamental notions of monism broadcast through the world
(_E. Haeckel_, Monismus u. Naturgesetz). Teaching must be viewed from a
different point. Research is a personal function, whereas Teaching is a
social one. This fact, of itself, makes it evident that teaching cannot be
allowed the same measure of freedom as research, hence that teaching must
be confined within narrower limits.
But Freedom is demanded not only for research, but also for teaching, in
most cases even an unlimited freedom. It is demanded as an inalienable
right of the individual, it is demanded in the name of progress, which can
be promoted only by new knowledge. Some countries grant this freedom in
their constitutions. Before discussing this demand and its presumptions,
we shall have to make clear some preliminary conceptions.
First, the meaning of _freedom of teaching_. How is it precisely to be
understood? Freedom in teaching in general means, evidently, exemption
from unwarranted restraint in teaching. Teaching, however, to use the
words of a great thinker of the past, means _Causare in alio scientiam_,
to impart knowledge to some one else (_Thomas Aquinas_, Quaest. disp. De
verit. q. XI al.). Thus the pious mother teaches the child truths about
God and Heaven, the school-teacher teaches elementary knowledge, the
college-professor teaches science. Teaching is chiefly understood to be
the instruction by professional teachers, from grammar school up to
university. Hence freedom in teaching does not necessarily refer to
scientific matters only; we may also speak of a freedom of teaching in the
elementary school. As a rule, however, the term is used in the narrower
sense of freedom in teaching science.
Here it may not be amiss to mention further distinctions. As we
may distinguish in teaching three essentials, namely, the matter,
the method, and the teacher, so there is a corresponding triple
freedom of teaching. If we regard the matter, we meet with the
demand, that no one be excluded in an unjust way from exercising
his right to teach, that no single party should have the monopoly
of teaching: the right to found free universities also belongs
here. It is part of the freedom of teaching. As it has relation to
the state, we shall return to this point later on. A second
freedom, which might be called methodological, concerns the choice
of the method. This is naturally subject to considerable
restraint; not only because the academic teacher may frequently
have to get along without desirable paraphernalia, but also
because of the commission he receives with his appointment,
wherein his field and scope are prescribed. This is necessary for
the purpose of the university; the students are to acquire the
varied knowledge needed later on in their vocations of clergyman,
lawyer, teacher, or physician. There is frequent complaint that
this freedom in method is abused to a certain extent, that the
students are taught many fragments of science with thoroughness,
but too little of that which they actually need later on; they are
trained too much for theoretical work and not enough for the
practical vocation. Thus there is limitation here, too. But this
is not the freedom in teaching which occupies the centre of
interest to-day.
The trophy for which the battle is waged is the freedom relating to the
_subject_ of teaching; we shall term it “doctrinal” freedom in teaching:
Shall the representative of science be permitted to promulgate any view he
has formed? Even if that view conflicts with general religious or moral
convictions, with the social order? Or must this freedom be curbed? This
is the question.(19)
Obviously, teaching need not always be done _verbally_, it can be done
also by _writing_. The professor lectures in the classrooms, but he may
also expound his theories in books; this latter the private scholar may
also do. In this way _Plato_ and _Aristotle_ and the Fathers are still
teaching by their writings, though their lips have long been silent. True,
this way of teaching has not the force of the spoken word, vibrating with
personal conviction, but it reaches farther out, with telling effect upon
masses and remote circles. Thus, freedom in teaching includes also the
freedom to print and publish scientific theories, hence it includes part
of the _freedom of the press_; in its full meaning, however, the freedom
of the press relates also to unscientific periodicals, especially
newspapers.
A counterpart to the freedom in teaching is presented by the _freedom in
learning_. It concerns the student, and may consist of the right granted
to the “academic citizen” to choose at his discretion, but within the
restrictions set by his studies, his university, his teachers, and his
curriculum.
Chapter I. Freedom Of Teaching And Ethics.
Now for a closer examination of the problem of freedom of teaching, from
the point of _general ethics_, not of law. This is an important
distinction, not seldom overlooked. The former point of view deals with
freedom in teaching only in as far as regulated or circumscribed by
ethical principles, by the moral principles of conscience, without regard
to state-laws or other positive rules. The freedom in teaching as
determined by governmental decrees may be called freedom of teaching by
state-right. It may happen that the state does not prohibit the
dissemination of doctrines which may be forbidden by reason and
conscience, for instance, atheistical doctrine. There may be immoral
products of art not prohibited by the state; yet ethics cannot grant
license to pornography. The state grants the liberty of changing from one
creed to another, or of declaring one’s self an atheist; yet this does not
justify the act before the conscience. The statutes do not forbid
everything that is morally impermissible; their aim is directed only at
offences against the good of the commonwealth. Moreover, even such
offences may not be prohibited by statute, for the simple reason that the
enactment of such laws may be impossible on account of the complexion of
legislative bodies, or because of other conditions.
We will now take the ethical position and try to judge the freedom of
teaching from this point of view. First of all, we shall have to explain
the _social character_ of teaching and the _responsibility_ attached
thereto. We start again with the meaning of freedom of teaching. It
demands that the communication of scientific opinions should not be
restrained in unwarranted manner. “In unwarranted manner”; because,
manifestly, not all bars are to be removed; no one will assert that a man
may teach things he knows to be false. Every activity, including
scientific activity, must conform to truth and morals. Hence there is only
the question to determine, when is freedom in teaching morally
reprehensible, and when not; which are the bars that must not be
transgressed, and which bars may be disregarded? Is it allowed or not to
teach any opinion, if the teacher subjectively believes it to be true?
Here the views differ. However, one thing at present is clear:
Freedom of Teaching is Necessary.
Also in respect to method. Even the teacher in public and grammar schools,
though minutely guided by the plan of instruction, must be granted, by the
demands of pedagogy, a certain liberty; he should be free to arrange and
to try many things. Only where individual spontaneity is given play will
love for work be aroused, which in turn stimulates devotion to the cause
and makes for success. This applies with even greater force to the
college-professor, in respect to method, course of instruction, subject,
and the results of his research. He must be free to communicate them,
without consideration for unwarranted prejudices, or for private and party
interests.
If the scientist were condemned to do nothing but repeat the old things,
without change and variance, without improvement and correction, without
new additions and discoveries, all alertness and impulse would disappear;
but his alacrity and ardour will increase, if allowed to contribute to
progress, if assured beforehand of publicity for the new solutions he
hopes to find, if allowed to promulgate new discoveries.
This freedom is demanded, even more imperatively, by the vocation of
science to work for the progress of mankind, primarily for the
intellectual and through this for the general progress. The demand in
behalf of the individual is even more urgent in behalf of science at
large: no standing still, ever onward to new knowledge and the enrichment
of the mind, to moral uplift, to a beautifying of life—and ultimately to
the glorification of God! For, verily, the purpose of the whole universe
is the glory of the Creator. Glory is given to Him by the world of stars,
as they speed through space, conforming to His laws; glory is given to Him
by the dewdrop, as it reflects the rays of the morning sun; glory is given
to Him by the butterfly, as it unfolds the brilliancy of colours received
from His hand. The chief glory of all is given to Him by the
reason-endowed human mind, developing its powers ever more fully, the
crowning achievement of visible creation, wherein God’s wisdom reflects
brighter than the sun in the morning-dew. And for this is needed the
freedom of scientific progress, which would be impossible without a
freedom in teaching.
And this applies not only to fixed conclusions; it must also be
permitted, within admissible bounds, to teach scientific
_hypotheses_. Science needs them for its progress; they are the
buds that burst forth into blossoms. Had men like _Copernicus_,
_Newton_, _Huygens_, not been free to propound their hypotheses,
the sun would still revolve around the earth, we still would have
_Ptolemy’s_ revolution of the spheres, and the results of optical
science would be denied us.
A Twofold Freedom of Teaching and Its Presumption.
There cannot be any doubt that science must have freedom in teaching. But
of what kind? One that is necessary and suitable. Yes, but what kind of
freedom is that? Here is the crux of the question. Now we are again at the
boundary line where we stood, when defining the freedom of science in
general, at the parting of the ways of two contrary conceptions of man.
One is the Christian idea, and also that of unbiassed reason. Man is a
limited creature, depending on God, on truth and moral law, at the same
time dependent on social life, hence also dependent on social order and
authority; consequently he cannot claim independence, but only the freedom
compatible with his position. Therefore the barriers demanded by truth and
by the duty of belief are set to his research; hence his freedom in
teaching can only be the one permitted by his social position; personal
perception of truth _and_ consideration for the welfare of mankind will be
the barriers of this freedom.
This view is opposed by another, claiming full independence for both
research and teaching, a claim prompted by the modern philosophy of _free
humanity_, which sees in man an autonomous being, who needs only follow
the immanent impulses of his own individuality; and this especially in
that activity which is deemed the most perfect, the pursuit of science:
this hypostatized collective-being of the highest human pursuit is also to
be the supreme bearer of autonomism. As a matter of course this results in
the claim for unlimited freedom in teaching, a freedom we shall term
_liberal_: in communicating his scientific view the scientist need merely
be guided by his perception of truth, without any considerations for
external authorities or interests, provided his communication is a
scientific one, viz., observing the usual form of scientific teaching.
This latter limitation is usually added, because this freedom is to apply
to the teaching of _science_ only; to the popular presentation of
scientific views, appealing directly to the masses, such a freedom is not
always conceded.
“Research,” we are told, “demands full freedom, with no other
barrier but its own desire for truth, hence the academic teacher
who teaches in the capacity of an investigator is likewise not to
know any barriers but his inner truthfulness and propriety.” “In
this sense we demand to-day freedom in teaching for our
universities. The freedom of the scientist and of the academic
teacher must not be constrained by any patented truth, nor by
faint-hearted consideration. We let the word of the Bible comfort
us: ‘if this doctrine is of God, it will endure; if not, it will
pass away’ ” (_Kaufmann_). Whatever the academic teacher produces
from his subjective veracity must be inviolable; he may proclaim
it as truth, regardless of consequences. “The searching
scientist,” so says another, “must consider only the one question:
What is truth? But inasmuch as there cannot be research without
communication(?), we must go a step further: the teaching, too,
must not be restricted. The scientific writer has to heed but one
consideration: How can I present the things exactly as I perceive
them, in the clearest and most precise manner?” (_Paulsen_).
“Scientific research and the communication of its results must,
conformable to its purpose, be independent of any consideration
not innate in the scientific method itself,—hence independent of
the traditions and prejudices of the masses, independent of
authorities and social groups, independent of interested parties.
That this independence is indispensable needs no demonstration.”
“Nor can any limitation of the freedom of research and teaching be
deduced from the official position of the scientist or teacher”
(_Von Amira_). Just as soon as he begins his research according to
scientific method, _i.e._, adapts his thoughts to scientific
rules, customs, and postulates, he may question Christianity, God,
everything; neither state nor Church must object, no matter if
thousands are led astray.
This freedom is pre-eminently claimed for philosophical and religious
thought, for ideas relating to views of the world and the foundations of
social order; because only in this province is absolute freedom of
teaching likely to be seriously refused. In mathematics and the natural
sciences, in philology and kindred sciences, there is hardly occasion for
it; there only petty disputes occur, differences among competitors, things
that do not reach beyond the precinct of the learned fraternity. Whether
one is for or against the theory of three-dimensional space, for or
against the theory of ions and the like, all that touches very little on
the vital questions of mankind; but the case is quite different when it
comes to publicly advocating the abolition of private property, to the
preaching of polygamy: it is here where great clashes threaten. Here,
also, there enter into the plan the social powers, whose duty it is to
shield the highest possessions of human society against wanton attack.
Nevertheless the demand is for unlimited freedom in teaching. What, then,
are the arguments used in giving to this exceptional claim the semblance
of justification? This shall be the first question.
Unlimited Freedom in Teaching not Demanded.
1. Not by Veracity.
Veracity is appealed to first; it obligates the teacher, so it is said, to
announce his own convictions unreservedly, for to “deny one’s own
convictions would offend against one of the most positive principles of
morals”; hence the academic teacher could not grant to the state the right
to set a barrier in this respect, “it would be a violation of the duty of
veracity, which is innate to the teacher’s office” (_Von Amira_).
Was it realized in making this claim what the duty of truthfulness really
demands? This duty is complied with when one is not untruthful, that is to
say, does not state something to be his opinion when secretly he believes
the contrary to be true; to force him to do this would of course be
instigating untruthfulness. Truthfulness, however, does not require any
one to speak out publicly what he thinks; one may be silent. Or is
cautious silence untruthfulness? It is oftentimes prudence, but not
untruthfulness. There is a considerable difference between thinking and
communicating thought, even to the scientist.
Or is the scientist _obliged_, for instance, to proclaim publicly views he
has formed contrary to the prevailing principles of morals,—views he calls
the “results of his research,” so that mankind at last may learn the
truth? Was _Nietzsche_ in duty bound to proclaim to the wide world his
revolutionary ideas? Any sober-minded man might have told him he need not
worry about this duty. Has the teacher of science this duty? How will he
prove it? How are they going to prove that it is incumbent upon an
atheistic college-professor to teach his atheism also to others? Or, must
he teach that the fundamental principles of Christian marriage are
untenable, if this has become his personal opinion? Is it, perhaps,
impossible for him to refrain from such teaching in the lectures he is
appointed to give? This view will mostly prove a delusion. A conscientious
examination of his opinion would convince him that he, too, had better
abandon it, since it is merely an aberration of his mind. But let us
assume that he could neither correct his views nor refrain from
proclaiming them, that he would declare: “I should lie if, in discussing
the question in how far this or that public institution is morally
sanctioned, I were to halt before certain institutions; for instance if,
having the moral conviction that monarchy is a morally objectionable
institution, I omitted to say so” (_Th. Lipps_).
Well, he has the option to change his branch of teaching, or to resign his
office; he is not indispensable, no one forces him to retain his office.
Indeed, he owes it to _truthfulness_ to leave his post the very instant he
finds he is not able to occupy it in a beneficial way; he owes it to
_honesty_ to yield his position, if he has lost the proper relation to
religion, state, and the people, to whom his position is to render
service.
2. Not the Duty of Science.
“Nevertheless,” we are told, “the representatives of science have the duty
of freely communicating their opinions; they are called by people and
state to find the truth for the great multitude, that is not itself in the
position to pursue laborious research. Where else could it get the truth
but from science?” “The multitude participates in truth generally in a
receptive, passive manner; only a few pre-eminent minds are destined by
nature to be the dispensers and promoters of knowledge” (_Paulsen_), and
with this vocation of science a restriction of its freedom of speech would
be incompatible.
The idea has something enticing about it. It also has its justification,
if the matter at issue concerns things outside of the common scope of
human knowledge, such as the more precise research of nature, of history,
and so on. But the idea is not warranted when applied to the higher
questions of human life. Here it is based on the false premise that man
cannot arrive at the certain possession of truth without scientific
research. We have demonstrated previously how this notion involves a total
misconception of the nature of human thought.
There is, beside the scientific certainty, another true certainty,
a natural certainty, the only one we have in most matters, and a
safe guide to mankind especially in higher questions, nay, in
general much safer than science, which, as proved by history, goes
easily astray in such matters. Long before there was a science,
mankind possessed the truth about the principles of life; and it
possesses this truth still, through common sense and, even more,
through divine revelation, which offers enlightenment to every one
regardless of science. Here apply the words of the poet:
“Das Wahre ist schon laengst gefunden
Hat edle Geisterschaar verbunden
Das alte Wahre, fasst es an!”
Nevertheless, it is claimed, science remains the sole guide to truth and
progress. Must not truth be searched for and struggled for always anew?
There are no patented truths for all times—each age must sketch its own
image of the world, must form new values. And it is for science to point
out these new roads. Therefore, full swing for its doctrines. “Science
knows not of statutes of limitations or prescription, hence of no
absolutely established possession. Consequently real, scientific,
instruction can only mean absolutely free instruction” (_Paulsen_). We may
be brief. Every line bears the imprint of that sceptical subjectivism
which we have met so often as the philosophical presumption of modern
freedom of science. It is the wisdom of ancient sophistry, which even
Aristotle stigmatized as a “sham-science,” “a running after something that
invariably slips away.” A freedom in teaching with such a theory of
cognition can never be a factor of mental progress, least of all when it
seeks to rise above a God-given, Christian truth to “higher” forms of
religion. This, however, is often the very progress for which freedom in
teaching is intended—the unhindered propagation of an anti-Christian view
of the world.
3. No Innate Right.
Very well, we are told, leave aside the appeal to the province of science;
but it cannot be denied that man has at least an innate right of
communicating his thoughts in the freest manner. The first right of the
human individual, a right which must not be curtailed in any way, is his
right to free development according to his inner laws, provided the
freedom of the fellow-man is not thereby injured. Hence every man has the
right of freely uttering his opinion, in science especially, because the
free right of others is thereby not infringed upon in any matter
whatsoever.
This is the claim. It is again rooted in the autonomy of the human
subject, the main idea of the liberal view of life, and, at the same time,
the principal presumption of its freedom of science. It leads to the
_individualistic theory of rights_, which declares freedom to be man’s
self-sufficient object, viz., freedom in all things regardless of the weal
and woe of others, no matter if the sequel be error, scandal, or
seduction, if only the strict right to freedom be not violated.
“Act outwardly so,” says the philosophic preceptor of autonomism,
“that the free use of thy free will may be consistent with the
liberty of others according to a general law.” “This liberty,”
continues _Kant_, “is the sole, original right of every man by
virtue of his humanity.” And _Spencer_ concurrently teaches:
“Every one is free to do what he wants, as long as he does not
infringe upon the liberty of others.”
This is termed the “Maxim of Co-existence.” Accordingly any one
may say and write anything at will, no matter if people are led
astray by his errors. Even the government must in no way limit
this freedom, except where rights are violated; to defend religion
and morals against attacks, to guard innocence and inexperience
against seduction, is, according to this theory, not allowed to
the state. _W. von Humboldt_ writes: “He who utters things or
commits actions, offending the conscience or the morals of other
people, may act immorally: but unless he is guilty of
obtrusiveness, he does not injure any right.” Hence the state must
not interfere. “Even the assuredly graver case, when the
witnessing of an action, the listening to certain reasoning, would
mislead the virtue or the thought of others, even this case would
not permit restraint of freedom.”
We are dealing here with that misconception of the social nature of man
which has always characterized liberalism. It knows only of the right and
liberty of the individual; of his duties to society it knows nothing, not
even that men should not injure the possessions of others, but rather
promote them; nor does it know that men are placed in a society that
requires the free will of the individual to yield to the common weal of
the many. To liberal thought human society is only an accidental
aggregation of individuals, not connected by social unity. The autonomous
spheres of the single individuals are rolling side by side, each one for
itself: wherever it pleases them to roll, there they are carried by the
autonomous centre of gravity, whatever they upset in their career has no
right to complain. This principle of freedom was given free rein in the
economical legislation of the nineteenth century. Free enterprise, free
development of energy, was the rallying cry; the result was devastation
and wreckage.
Unrestricted Freedom of Teaching Inadmissible.
Hence the claim for absolute freedom in teaching is not warranted; on the
contrary, its chief arguments are borrowed from a philosophy that is
unacceptable to the Christian mind. Is it even admissible? Though not
warranted, is it permissible at least from the viewpoint of ethics? It is
not even this. The claim is ethically inadmissible, because the
_religious, moral, and social_ institutions, especially the _Christian
faith_ and the Christian morals of mankind, would be seriously injured. In
other words: The claim that it is permissible to proclaim scientific
theories which are apt to do great _damage_ to the foundations of
religious, moral, and social life, especially to Christian conviction and
morals, is ethically reprehensible.
A few remarks in explanation. We merely speak here of the freedom in
teaching relating to the philosophical-religious foundations of life; that
it cannot be the subject of serious objection in other matters we have
previously mentioned. Nor do we yet inquire what social powers should fix
the needed limitations, whether state or Church should regulate them; we
are merely investigating, from the viewpoint of ethics, what barriers are
set by the law of reason, and would have to be set even in the absence of
state laws, because of the important influence exercised by scientific
doctrine upon the social life—the social welfare of mankind is the
consideration beside the truth that is decisive in considering freedom in
teaching.
The teacher or writer may himself be of the opinion that his pernicious
errors are not dangerous; he may fancy them even of utmost importance to
the world; hence he thinks he has the right, even the duty, to communicate
them to the world. And do we not hear them all assure us that they desire
only the truth? We do not wish to sit in judgment on the good faith of
them individually; we make no comment when a man like _D. F. Strauss_,
looking back upon the forty years of his career as a writer, vouches for
his unwavering and pure aim for truth; and when even _Haeckel_ asserts
this of himself. Every fallacy has made its appearance with this avowal.
But, by way of parenthesis, there is no reason to boast in a
general way of the sincere aim at truth and the pure mind for the
ideal, alleged to prevail in the modern literature of our times,
especially in philosophical literature. He who stands upon
Christian ground knows that the denial of a personal God, of
immortality and other matters, are errors of gravest consequence.
Furthermore, if one is convinced of the capability of man to
recognize the truth, at least in the most important matters, and
if one knows that God has made His Revelation the greatest
manifestation in history, and proved it sufficiently by
documents—indeed, had to prove it; that He will let all who are of
good will come to the knowledge of the truth; then it remains
incomprehensible how modern philosophy considered as a whole is
said on the one hand to be guided by a sincere desire for truth,
while on the other hand it clings with hopeless obstinacy to the
most radical errors.
Such talk of general sincere searching for truth is apt to deceive
the inexperienced. He who has obtained a deeper insight into
modern philosophy, he who steadily watches it at work, will recall
to mind only too often the word of the Holy Ghost: “For there
shall be a time when they will not endure sound doctrine, but
according to their own desires shall they heap to themselves
teachers ... and will indeed turn away their hearing from the
truth and shall be turned unto fables” (2 Tim. iv. 3).
Even if the teacher is himself convinced of the truth and inoffensiveness
of his theory, it does not follow by any means that society is obliged to
receive it. Indeed not. The state prohibits cults dangerous to the common
weal: it does not intend to suffer damage just because the adherents of
such cults may be in good faith. And if some one thinks himself called to
deliver a people from its legitimate ruler, let it be undecided whether
his purpose is good or not, he will nevertheless be restrained by rather
drastic means from proceeding according to his idea. This proves that the
principle of “no barrier but one’s own veracity” is not conceded in
practical life. The teacher and author, this is the sense of our thesis,
must ever be conscious of the grave responsibility of science, against
whose power the unscientific are so often defenceless; his great duty will
be to make use of this power with utmost compunction, to teach nothing
whereof he is not fully convinced, nor to announce for truth anything he
is still investigating.
As we turn to the demonstration of our proposition, a start from the
_definition of scientific teaching_ suggests itself; manifestly this must
be decisive for the measure of its freedom. No doubt, its purpose
obviously is: to promote the weal of mankind by communicating the truth,
by guarding men against errors, especially against those which would most
harm them, by elevating and increasing the blessings of this life: for
knowledge guides man in all his steps, it is the light on his way.
Science is not self-sufficient. It is an equally false and pernicious
notion to make science a sovereign authority, throning above man, who must
pay homage, and subordinate his interests to it, but which he must not ask
to serve him for his own ends in life. There are such notions of science
and also of art. Art, too, it is sometimes claimed, should serve its own
ends only; the demand, that it should edify, or promote the ideals of
society, is deemed a desertion of its purposes, “the furtherance of
worldly or heavenly ideals may be eliminated from its task” (_E. von
Hartmann_). These are the excrescences of unclarified cultural thoughts.
Since man and his culture is more and more replacing the divine Ideal,
this culture itself has grown to be the overshadowing ideal of the Deity,
without whom evidently man cannot live. The Egyptians worshipped Sun and
Moon; modern man often burns incense before the products of his own mind.
It is a reversal of the right proportion. Science and its doctrine are
activities of life, results of the human mind. Activities of life,
however, have man for their end, they are to develop and perfect him: man
does not exist for the clothes he wears—the clothes exist on account of
man; the leaves exist for the sake of the tree that puts them forth, nor
can grapes be of more importance than the vine that has produced them.
Hence, where science does not serve this end, where it in consequence
becomes not a blessing, but an injury to man, where it tears down, instead
of building up, there it forfeits the right to exist; it is no longer a
fruitful bough on the tree of humanity, but a harmful outgrowth. Like
every organism actively opposes its harmful growths, society, too, must
not tolerate within its bosom any scientific tendencies which act as
malign germs, perhaps attack its very marrow.
From the true object of science, as above stated, it follows that it is
wrong to disseminate doctrines that are apt to injure mankind in the
possession of the truth, which may even imperil the authenticated
foundations of life. For nobody will deny that firm foundations are needed
to uphold and support the highest ideals of life; they can no more
withstand a constant jarring and shaking than can a house of frame and
stone. Such foundations are, first of all, the moral and religious truths
and convictions about the Whence and Whither of human life, about God and
the hereafter, the social duties toward the fellow-man, obedience to
authority, and so on. If man is to perform burdensome duties as husband
and father, if, as a citizen, he is to do justice to others and yield in
obedience to authority, he must have powerful motives; else his impulses
will take the helm, the sensible, moral being becomes a sensual being who
reverses the order and drives the ship of life towards the cataract of
ethical and social revolution. And these motives must rest deeply in the
mind, like the foundation that supports the house; they must become
identified with it, as the vital principle penetrates the tree, as the
instinct of the animal is part of its innermost being. If new notions are
continually whizzing without resistance through the mind, like the wind
over the fields, repose and permanence are impossible in human life. To
jolt the foundations invites collapse and ruin.
It is the duty of self-preservation, for which every being strives, that
society guard these foundations of order against subversion and capricious
experimentation. Of the Locrians it is told that any one desiring to offer
a resolution for changing existing laws, was required to appear at the
public meeting with a rope around his neck. He was hanged with it if he
failed to win his fellow-citizens over to his view. This custom pictures
the necessity of erecting a powerful dam against the inundation by illicit
mental tidal waves, that endanger the stability of the order of life.
This, of course, does not oppose every new progress. In building a house,
firm foundations do not prevent the house from growing in size; but the
foundations are a necessary preliminary to a suitable construction. Under
no circumstances must a man be permitted, in his individualistic mania for
reform, to lay an impious hand at the fundamental principles of life; and
the scientist must bear in mind the fact that it is not the task and
privilege of his individualistic reason to put the seal of approval on
these principles as if the truth had never before been discovered.
To _Christian_ nations the immutable truths of Christianity are these safe
foundations. They are vouched for by divine authority, they have stood all
historical tests of fitness; they sustain the institutions of family and
of government, they determine thought, education, the ideas of right and
wrong—a venerable patrimony of the nations. Shall every _Nietzsche_, big
or little, be free to attack them? Experiments may be made with rabbits,
flowers, or drugs; but it would violate the first principle of prudence
and justice to allow every Tom, Dick, and Harry, who may have the
neological itch, to experiment on the highest institutions of mankind.
_Primum non nocere_ is an old caution to the physician; for many medical
practitioners and surgeons not an untimely admonition. It is asserted, and
vouched for by proof, that patients are made the subjects of experiment
for purposes of science; not, indeed, rich people, but the poor in
hospitals and clinics (comp. _A. Moll_, Arztliche Ethik, 1902). Every
conscientious physician will turn with moral abhorrence from such action.
Indeed, man and his greatest possession, life, is not to be made the
victim of scientific experiment. If this holds good as to the physical
things of life, then how much more of the ideal things of mankind!
“Every One to Form His Own Judgment”?
But, then, cannot every one decide for himself as to the teachings of
science, and reject whatever he thinks to be false? Then would be avoided
all damage that might result from a freedom in teaching. Science does not
force its opinion upon any one. With due respect for the discernment of
its disciples, science lays its results before them, leaving it to them to
judge and choose, whatever they think is good.
Such words voice the optimism of an inexperienced idealism. To be sure,
were the devotee to science, be he a student at a university or a reader
of scientific works, a clear-sighted diagnostician, who could at once
perceive error, and, moreover, if he were a mathematical entity, without
personal interest in the matter, the argument might be listened to. But
any one past the immaturity of youth, he, especially, who has earnestly
commenced to know himself, is aware that unfortunately the opposite is the
case.
First the lack of ability to _distinguish error from truth_. Even when
recognized, error is not without danger; it shares with truth the property
to act suggestively, especially when it repeatedly and with assurance
approaches the mind. And often error does pose with great assurance, as
the result of science, as the conclusion of the superior mind of the
teacher, perhaps of a famous teacher! It is taken for granted that
whatever serious men assert in the name of science must be right; or, if
not that, there is the overawing feeling that there must be some
justification for the confidence of the assertion. Authority impresses
even without argument, and impresses the more strongly, the less there is
of intellectual independence. The latter is at lowest ebb at the youthful
age. That which in hypnotic suggestion is intensified into the morbid: the
effective psychical transfer of one’s own thought into some one else,
occurs in a lesser form through the influence of the morbid scepsis of our
times; it is a poisonous atmosphere, affecting imperceptively the
susceptible mind which remains long in it.
For this reason the religious savant, who has to do a great deal
with infidel books, must be on his watch incessantly, even though
he has the knowledge and the intellect to detect wrong
conclusions. Thus we find that great scholars often display a
striking fear of irreligious books. Of Cardinal _Mai_ it is told:
“He said—and this we can vouch for—‘I have the permission to read
forbidden books; but I never make use of it nor do I intend to do
so’ ” (_Hilger_, Der Index, 1905, 41).
The learned _L. A. Muratori_ wrote a refutation of a heretic book.
In the preface he thought it necessary to apologize for having
read the book. He said: “The book got into my hands very late, and
for a long time I could not get myself to read it. For why should
one read the writings of innovators except to commit one’s self to
their folly? I seek and like books which confirm my faith, but not
those which would lead me away from my religion. But when I heard
that the book was circulated in Italy, I resolved to muster up my
strength for the defence of truth and religion, and for the safety
of my brethren.”
_Saint Francis of Sales_, with touching simplicity, gives in his
writings praise to God for having preserved him from losing his
faith through the reading of heretical books. Of the learned
Spanish philosopher _Balmes_ is preserved a saying that he once
addressed to two of his friends: “You know, the faith is deeply
rooted in my heart. Nevertheless, I cannot read a fallacious book
without feeling the necessity of regaining the right mood by
reading Holy Writ, the Imitation of Christ, and the writings of
blessed _Louis of Granada_.”
What then must happen when the needed training is lacking? when one easily
grasps the objections to the truth, but cannot find the answer? when one
is not in a position to ascertain whether the asserted facts are based on
truth, whether something important is kept back, whether there are stated
positive facts, or mere hypotheses, or perhaps even idle suppositions? If
one is not capable to recognize wrong conclusions, to note the ambiguities
of words? Our present treatise cites proof of it. How many earnest men,
who in good faith are the warm advocates of freedom of science, are aware
how ambiguous that term is; how a whole theory of cognition and view of
the world is hidden behind it? How many can at once see the ambiguity of
phrases like “Difference between knowledge and faith,” of “experiencing
one’s religion,” of “evolution and progress,” of “humanism,” of “unfolding
personality”? And of the self-conscious postulate that science cannot
reckon with supernatural factors, how many perceive that it is nothing but
an undemonstrated supposition? We are told that all great representatives
of science reject the Christian view of the world; who knows at once that
such assertion is untrue? We read that the Copernican theory was condemned
by Rome, even prohibited up to 1835, and this cannot fail to make an
impression; but the part omitted in the story, who will at once supplement
or even suspect it?
Then there is the great _want of philosophical training_. Formerly a
thorough philosophical education was the indispensable condition for
maturity, and considered the indispensable foundation for higher studies.
All this has changed; frequently there is not even the desire for
philosophical training. Of course, modern philosophy in its present state
does not promise much of benefit. “Students of medicine and law remain for
the larger part without any philosophical education, and among those of
the other two faculties but few students do better than come into a more
or less superficial touch with philosophy” (_Paulsen_). The consequence
is, they cannot scientifically get their bearings in respect to ultimate
questions, and easily lose their faith, succumbing to errors and sophisms.
Imagine a young man, untrained; in books, in the lecture room, in his
intercourse, everywhere, he is courted by a disbelieving science, with its
theories, its objections, its doubts,—tension everywhere that is not
relieved, accusations that are not explained; how is he to bring with a
steady hand order in all this? To clinch it, he hears the obtrusive
exhortation to form forthwith his own conviction by his own reasoning!
He is, moreover, likely to be informed as follows: “The university
is a place for mental struggle, for incessant investigation of
inherited opinions. For years and years the student was fed with
prescribed matter which he had to swallow believingly, ... at last
the moment has arrived when he can choose and decide for himself.
True, this freedom of mental choice—and it is the essence of
academic freedom—has also its anguish. But how magnificent it is,
on the other hand, when the gloomy walls of the classroom vanish,
and the bright ether of research dawns into view with its wide
horizon! He who cannot grasp and enjoy this moment in its grandeur
and exquisiteness, he who prefers to the free life of the colt on
the vast prairies the dull existence in a narrow fold ... he has
taken the wrong road when he came to the gates of the Alma Mater
to study worldly science—he should have remained at the restful
hearth of the pious, parental home, in the shadow of the old
village-church” (_Jodl_).
What a lack of earnestness and of knowledge of man, what lack of the sense
of responsibility! Of young men, without thorough philosophical and
theological preparation, it is demanded to doubt at once their Christian
religion, despite all compunctions of their conscience, and to argue the
dangerous theses of an anti-Christian view of the world. They are
expected, as if they were heirs to the wisdom of all centuries, to judge
and correct forthwith that which their teachers call the result of their
long studies—for they are not supposed to follow them blindly, they are
expected to sit in judgment over theological tendencies and philosophical
systems, and to struggle through doubts and aberrations, untouched by
error, to display a mental independence which even the man of highest
learning lacks. Such a knowledge of human nature might be left to itself,
if the wrecks it causes were not so saddening.
“How terrible is the power of science!” a voice of authority
warned a short time ago. “The unlearned are defenceless against
the learned, those who know little against those that know much;
the unlearned are incapable of independently judging the theories
of the learned; error in the garb of knowledge impresses them with
the force of truth, especially when it finds an ally in their evil
lusts. No wielder of state-power can lay waste, can destroy, as
much as an unconscientious, or even merely careless, wielder of
the weapons of knowledge. Exalted as is the pursuit of knowledge,
and as knowledge itself is if guided by strong moral sentiment and
earnest conscience, so degraded it becomes if it tears itself from
the self-control of conscience. This fatal rupture will happen the
instant science deviates but a hair’s breadth from the truth it
can vouch for upon conscientious examination.... Sacred is the
freedom of science keeping within the bounds of the moral laws;
but transgressing them it is no longer science, but a farce staged
with scientific technique, a negation of the essence of science”
(Count _A. Apponyi_, former Hungarian Minister of Education,
officiating at a _Promotio sub auspiciis_, 1908).
In the year 1877, at the Fiftieth Congress of Natural Scientists
in Munich, Prof. _R. Virchow_, founder and leader of the
Progressive Party in Germany, sounded a warning to be
conscientious in the use of the freedom in teaching, and in the
first place, to announce as the result of science nothing but what
has been demonstrated beyond doubt: “I am of the opinion that we
are actually in danger of jeopardizing the future by making too
much use of the freedom offered to us by present conditions, and I
would caution not to continue in the arbitrary personal
speculation, which spreads itself nowadays in many branches of
natural science. We must make rigid distinction between that which
we teach and that which is the object of research. The subjects of
our research are problems. But a problem should not be made a
subject of teaching. In teaching, we have to remain within the
small, and yet large domain which we actually control. Any attempt
to model our problems into doctrines, to introduce our conjectures
as the foundation of education, must fail, especially the attempt
to simply depose the Church and to replace its dogma without
ceremony by evolutionary religion; indeed, gentlemen, this attempt
must fail, but in failing it will carry with it the greatest
dangers for science in general.... We must set ourselves the task,
in the first place, to hand down the actual, the real knowledge,
and, in going further, we must tell our students invariably: This,
however, is not proved, it is _my_ opinion, _my_ notion, _my_
theory, _my_ speculation.... Gentlemen, I think we would misuse
our power, and endanger our power, if in teaching we would not
restrict ourselves to this legitimate province.”
And is nothing known of the inclinations and passions, especially of the
youthful heart, to which truth is so often a heavy yoke, constraining and
oppressing them? Will they not try to use every means to relieve the
tension? Will they not gravitate by themselves to a science that tells
them the old religion with its oppressive dogmas, its unworldly morals, is
a stage of evolution long since passed by, and that many other things,
once called sin by obsolete prejudices, are the justified utterances of
nature? Will they not worship this science as their liberator? He who once
said “I am the truth,” He was crucified; a sign for all ages. Base nature
will at all times crucify the truth. _F. Coppée_, a member of the French
Academy, led back by severe sickness to the faith of his youth, relates
the following in his confessions: “I was raised a Christian, and fulfilled
the religious duties with zeal even for some years after my first Holy
Communion. What made me deviate from my pious habits were, I confess it
openly, the aberrations of youthful age and the loathing to make certain
confessions. Quite many who are in the same position will admit, if they
will be frank, that at the beginning they were estranged from their creed
by the severe law which religion imposes on all in respect to sensuality,
and only in later years they felt the want to extenuate and justify the
transgressions of the moral law by a scientific system.” “Having taken the
first step on the downward road, I could not fail to read books, listen to
words, see examples, which confirmed my notion that nothing can be more
warranted but that man obey his pride and his sensuality; and soon I
became totally indifferent in respect to religion. As will be seen, my
case is an everyday case.”
Only exalted moral purity can keep the mind free from being made captive
and dragged down by the passions.
In a college town in southern Germany a Catholic Priest some time ago met
a college girl who belonged to a club of monists. They started upon a
discussion, and soon the college girl had no argument left. But as a last
shot she exclaimed, “Well, you cannot prevent me from hating your God.”
Prof. _G. Spicker_ relates in his autobiography instructive reminiscences
of his college years. Religiously trained in his youth, and in his early
years for some time a Capuchin, he left this Order to go to the
university. Previous to this he had been led to doubt by the perusal of
modern philosophical writings, and at Munich he sank still more deeply
into doubt. Prof. _Huber_ advised him to hear the radical _Prantl_. In his
dejection he went to a fellow-student in quest of comfort, and received
the significant advice: “Indeed, _Huber_ is right: you are not a bit of a
philosopher; you still believe in sin, that is only a theological notion;
go and hear _Prantl_, he’ll rid you of your fancies.” Of the impression
_Prantl’s_ lectures made upon the susceptible young students he relates:
“They were especially overawed by his passionate enthusiasm, his trenchant
criticism, his sarcastic treatment of everything mediocre and superficial,
and, chiefly, by his self-conscious, authoritative, demeanor. Like a
tornado he swept through hazy, obscure regions, whether in science, art,
poetry, or religion. Even by only attending the lectures one became more
conscious of one’s knowledge and looked down with silent contempt upon
semi-philosophers and theologians.” In regard to himself he admits that a
few weeks sufficed to destroy the last remnants of his former religious
persuasion: “_Huber’s_ prophecy was completely fulfilled, the last stump
of my dogmatic belief was smashed into a thousand splinters.”
_Vae mundo a scandalis!_ What a responsibility rests especially upon those
who become the scandal for inexperienced youth!
In the upper classes of a largely Protestant college in northern Germany
the professor of mathematics, some years ago, asked the question, who
among the students had read _Haeckel’s_ “Weltraetsel.” All except four or
five rose to their feet. Upon his further question, who of them believed
in what is said in the book, about half of the classroom rose. “The
immature youth who read the ‘Weltraetsel,’ ” so says _A. Hansen_,
“unfortunately conclude: ‘_Haeckel_ says there is no God, therefore we may
boldly live as it suits our natural immorality....’ Is _Haeckel_ the
strong mind to assume for a long future the responsibility for this
conclusion?”
One is frightened by the manner the highest ideals of mankind are often
juggled with, what they dare offer with easy conscience to the tenderest
youth. Prof. _Forel_ is known by his widely spread book on “The Sexual
Question,” perhaps better known even by his lectures on the subject, which
some cities prohibited in the interest of public morals. In the seventh
edition of his book we find published as a testimonial, also as proof of
the good reading the book makes for early youth, a letter of a young woman
whose opinion of the book had been requested by the author. Her answer
reads: “You ask me what impression your book made upon me. I should state
that I am very young, but have read a great deal. My mother has given me a
very liberal education, and so I have a right to count myself among the
unprejudiced girls.” She assures the author: “I never thought for a single
moment that your book was immoral, hence I do not believe that you have
corrupted me.” And such books are offered to young girls as fit reading!
Some years ago a sensation was created when in Berlin a young author,
twenty-two years of age, _George Scheufler_ by name, killed himself.
Though of a religious training, he began at an early age to read the
writings of infidel natural scientists and philosophers. His belief became
weaker and weaker, and he finally abandoned it entirely. Only a few years
afterwards, the young man, who had become a writer of repute, put a
revolver to his heart, nauseated by the world, tortured by religious
doubts. An organ of modern infidelity commented upon the event in the cold
words: “The truth is probably that the undoubtedly talented author had not
nerves strong enough for the Berlin life, hence he dies. May his ashes
rest in peace!” Heartless words on the misfortune of a poor victim of the
modern propaganda of disbelief.
Heavy, indeed, is the responsibility courted by representatives of science
when they sin against the holiest ideals of mankind, especially when they
induce the maturing youth, with his susceptibilities and awakening
impulses, to emancipate himself from the belief of his childhood, and to
tear down the fortifications of innocence! If the teacher is high-minded,
this cannot mitigate the perniciousness of his teaching, but only increase
it, neither can the fact that his personal morals are without a flaw
vindicate him. If a man by strewing poison does no harm to himself, this
does not give him the right to injure others. If science demands the
privilege of assuming the mental education of our people, then science
assumes also the duty of administering these interests conscientiously,
and the gravest responsibility will rest upon him in whose hand science
spreads ruin.
“Knowledge does no Harm”?
“The increase and spread of knowledge” (this is a further objection) “can
never harm society, only benefit its interests” (_Von Amira_). Hence, do
not get alarmed: nothing is to be feared from science. The apostles of the
enlightened eighteenth century tried to quiet their age with similar
assertions. “It is not true,” says _Lessing_, “that speculations about God
and divine things have ever done harm to society; not the speculations did
it—but the folly and tyranny to forbid them.”
If this were amended to read _true_ knowledge can never do harm, then the
mind might be set at rest, although even then it might become dangerous to
teach the truth without discrimination or caution. Not all are ripe for
every truth: truth can often be misunderstood, lead to false conclusions.
Thus, it may become certain, perhaps, that a much-worshipped relic, a
much-visited shrine, is not genuine: nevertheless in giving such
explanation to simple, pious people one would have to display caution in
order to keep them from doubting even the tenets of the creed.
But there is also false knowledge; can this “never do harm but only
benefit?” Will all knowledge exert the same influence, whether the
Christian tenets of love and mercy, or _Nietzsche’s_ moral for the
wealthy, whether young people are given to read Christian books, or those
of _Haeckel_, _Buechner_, and _Strauss_? The story is told of _Voltaire_,
that he sent all servants out of the room when he had friends for guests
and philosophical discussions started at the dining-table, because he did
not wish to have his throat cut the next night. So this free-thinker, too,
did not think that all knowledge is beneficial.
But, we are further assured, let science peacefully pursue its way; if it
should err it will correct itself.
It is true, sciences of obvious subjects, that have no direct relation to
moral conduct of life, do, sooner or later, correct their mistakes; recent
physics has corrected the mistakes of the physics of past ages; historical
errors, too, are disappearing with the times. Quite different is the
matter when philosophical-religious questions are at issue. Pantheism,
subjectivism, “scientific” rejection of faith, are errors, grave errors,
yet it does not follow that they will fall of themselves into desuetude;
they may prevail for a long time, may return with the regularity of
certain diseases. Their error is not tangible, and the desires of the
heart incline to them by the law of least resistance. From the earliest
ages to this day the same philosophical errors have returned, in varied
form.
But let us assume that this would be the case; that these errors, too,
would disappear after some time, disappear for good. Is it demanded that
the errors in the meanwhile ought to have free play? Shall the surgeon be
allowed to perform risky experiments on the patient, because later on he
will realize that his act was objectionable? Will the father hand to his
son an improper book, consoling himself that truth must prevail in the
end, even though defeated temporarily?
These are delusions of the abstract intellectualism of our times, which
sees all salvation and human perfection merely in learning and knowledge,
and forgets that knowledge signifies education and benefit for mankind
only when attached to truth and moral order. Not knowledge, but knowledge
of the truth, and moral dignity, make for civilization and perfection;
knowledge no longer controlled by truth and ethics becomes the hireling of
the low passions, and fights for their freedom.
“The Vehicle of Truth.”
Back of the urgent demands for unrestricted freedom in teaching stands
invariably a thought that operates with palsying effect upon the minds: to
wit, that science is the embodiment of truth, a genius carrying the
unextinguishable beacon of light: to silence it would be to resist the
truth.
Our first thought when we began our dissertation of the Freedom of Science
was, that science is not the poetical being so often described: it is an
individual activity, a product of the human mind, sharing its defects and
weaknesses. For this reason science is not the infallible bearer of the
truth; least of all in the higher questions of life, where its eyes are
dimmed, and where inclinations of the heart still further obscure its
strength of vision. And this is admitted, even to the point of despairing
of the ability to find the truth on these questions, and if one is not
ready to admit this, the fact is made apparent by a glance at the
countless errors exhibited in the history of human thinking.
Is error to have the same right that truth has? If wholesome beverage may
rightly be offered to anybody, can, with the same right, poison be given?
May one follow his false sense of truth, calling it science, and teach
anything he thinks right?
Moreover, is not this science, which, according to its exponents, need not
regard anything but its own method, entirely a _special kind of science_?
Indeed it is, as we have learned to know it. We have learned to know this
free science, with its autonomous subjectivism, that shapes its changing
views according to personal experience; this feeble but proud scepticism;
we have learned of those ominous imperatives, that banish everything
divine from the horizon of knowledge—a science with its torch turned
upside down. And its aim—negation. The beautiful thought is frequently
expressed that science, especially the science of our universities, is to
act as the leader in the mental life of the nation, “a universal
Parliament of science, which would represent the authoritative power so
urgently needed by our discordant and sceptical age, an age that has lost
faith in authority.”
The idea is beautiful, it is sublime; it coincides with a conception of
the divine Spirit, who has already realized it, though, it is true, in
another manner. The divine Spirit has founded in the bosom of mankind such
a centre of mental life; namely, the Church. She, and only she, bears all
the marks of the universal teacher of truth. By virtue of divine aid the
Church alone has the prerogative of infallibility, as necessary to the
teacher of the nations; human philosophy is not infallible, least of all a
science that despairs of the highest truth, nay, that often deals with it
as the cat does with the mouse. A teacher of the nations must possess
unity of doctrine. The Church has this unity, her view of the world stands
before us in perfect concord; while discord reigns in the philosophy of a
free mankind, one thought opposed to another. The Church is holy, holy in
her moral laws, holy in her service of the truth; she never shirks truth,
not even where truth is painful; the Church never surrenders the truth to
human passions. The Church is Catholic, general, for the learned and the
unlearned; she is apostolic, with faithful hand she preserves for all
generations the spiritual patrimony of the forefathers. And the
unbelieving science of liberalism, where is its holiness, when its eye
cannot bear the sight of heaven? when it numbers among its admirers all
the unholy elements of humanity? Where is its catholicity, its reverence
for traditions, its historic sense, the indispensable requirement for the
teacher of centuries? The ruins of overthrown truths, amongst which wanton
thought holds its orgies, bear witness to the unfitness of infidel science
to be the teacher of mankind.
Serious Charges.
The science of our day must often listen to charges of the gravest nature.
They are uttered not only by servants of the Church, but in public
meetings, legislative bodies, and in numerous articles by the press:
science, we are told, has become a danger to faith and morals, it has
become the teacher of irreligion, a leader in the war against
Christianity. The force of the accusation is felt and attempts are made to
ward it off. And then we are assured that science is not the enemy of
religion, nor of the precious possessions of society.
It is clear, without further proof, that science in itself cannot be a
social danger; hence the charge cannot apply to science in general, but
only to that special brand of science cultivated in an _anti-Christian_
spirit. The assurance from its champions, that their intentions are the
best, may often be a proof that they do not realize the scope of their
doctrines; nevertheless, it cannot be denied that this science has become,
through its principles, as taught in lectures and in print, the greatest
danger to the religious-moral possessions of our nations and to the
foundations of public order, hence an unlimited freedom for the activities
of this science means unlimited freedom for a destructive power that
spells ruin to our mental culture.
Can the principles of this science be anything but a danger? Their sharp
antagonism to the principle of authority, must it not undermine the
respect for state authority, must it not strengthen the elements of social
disorder? Its contempt of sacred traditions, must it not become a danger
to everything existing? “If all mankind were of one opinion,” it teaches,
“and but one single man were of a different opinion, then mankind would
have no more right to impose silence on him than he to silence all of
mankind, if he could,” must not such an individualism become the fertile
soil of revolutionary ideas? Its ethics without religion tells every one
that his own individuality is the court of last resort for his moral
doings, that moral laws are subject to change, and must such views not
become a danger to moral order? Finally, the separation of mankind from
God and its eternal destiny, must it not necessarily lead the whole of
life to materialism? and from the scullery it is not far to the sewer.
Through its antagonism to Christian faith this science becomes the chief
factor in dechristianizing the nations.
It is objected that this accusation is not true, because science addresses
itself to _professional circles_ only; the people, of course, cannot
digest these things, therefore religion is to be preserved for the people.
Why this distinction? The principles of liberal science of to-day are
either true or they are not true. If not true, why profess them? If they
are true, as is vehemently asserted, then why should the people be
excluded from a true view of the world? Have the people not an equal right
to the truth in important questions, equal right to light and happiness?
Ah, the consequences of this doctrine of freedom are feared; it is feared
the people’s natural logic would take hold of these principles and draw
from them its conclusions. And by that very fear these principles stand
condemned of themselves. The truth can stand its consequences, as does the
Christian view of the world; and the more zealously its consequences are
pursued, the more blessed the fruits. It is otherwise with error.
Therefore, if the principles of liberal science cannot stand their
consequences, they must be erroneous. “Consider chiefly to be good that
which enhances when communicated to others,” is a wise maxim of the
Pythagoreans. Anything spelling damage and ruin, when communicated to
others, is not good, but evil.
Nor is it true that science confines itself to professional circles. Any
one who does not lead the isolated existence of pedantry knows that this
is not the case. What the professor of our day teaches in the lecture
room, finds its way into the minds of his students, and from there into
preparatory and public schools; ideas committed by the scientific writer
to paper and print, go into all the world, and, transformed into popular
speech, become the common property of the millions. The flood of books,
pamphlets, and leaflets attacking and vilifying the Christian tenets of
faith is ever swelling, and day by day tons of this literature are spread
without hindrance over Christian countries. There is not a single book
against the Christian truth, be its author named _Feuerbach_, _Strauss_,
_Darwin_, _Haeckel_, _Carneri_, _Nietzsche_, or otherwise, that does not
soon circulate in popular editions in every country, or at least has to
lend its subject to pamphlets and booklets, which then carry these
“results of science” to every nook and corner, to the remotest backwoods
village. And the fruits? All those who in these days profess infidelity
and radicalism, they all unanimously profess adherence to modern free
science.
Tell Me with Whom Thou Goest.
In stately array they come along nowadays, free-thinkers and freemasons,
free-religionists and representatives of the free view of the world,
monists, agitators for “free school” and socialists, all impetuously
active in the service of anti-Christianity, bent on reviving and spreading
ancient heathendom. All are avowed disciples of free science, all spread
its doctrines, and all work for the popularizing of their ideas. There
they press on, the living proof that modern science, as far as it is
infidel, has become, voluntarily or involuntarily, the teacher of
radicalism, of paganism, and the leader in the battle against religion and
Christian morals.
And in its train is marching Free-thought in all its varieties. Its aim at
destruction, its dismal designs against religion and state, have become
manifest in its books and conventions; for instance, the international
free-thinker conventions lately held at Rome and at Prague were plainly of
anarchistical sentiment. In their midst we see men of science, academic
teachers. Under their auspices are arranged “scientific lectures” to make
known the “results of modern science,” with the conviction that this will
suffice for the overthrow of religion; they demand that “the instruction
in public institutions be only a scientific one”; itinerant orators are
sent to speak with preference on “Science and the Church,” on the
theocratic view of the world and free science. The doctrines of liberal
science are adopted by freemasonry, its rallying-cry is “freedom from God,
freedom of the human reason.” And following the band-wagon of free
science, we see a shouting and jeering multitude, its clenched fists
threatening any one who would dare to attack this fine science, their
liberator from the yoke of religion; they are the thousands of the common
people, whose faith has been torn out of their hearts, and, with faith,
also peace and good morals. We see marching there hundreds from the ranks
of youth, who in the heedless impulse of their inexperience have cast off
belief, and, with belief, frequently all moral discipline; they, too, look
upon science as their liberator. The morally inferior part of mankind,
which declares anything to be ethical that “promotes life”; which fights
against “love-denying views” and against obsolete maxims of morals, it,
too, follows in the tracks of free science. And wherever the issue is to
fight Christian institutions, under the name of marriage-reform,
free-school, or what not, there we are sure to see representatives of
science and of universities, and to hear them hold forth for free science.
Where the purpose is to kindle the fires of revolt against religious
authority, there we are certain to meet in the first rank the modern
teachers of science.
Science and its representatives have an ideal vocation. They should be the
hearth of the spiritual goods of the nations; new and wholesome forces
should at all times emanate from the abodes of science, and the people
should look up with confidence to these watch-towers of knowledge and
truth. What a shocking contrast to this exalted ideal it is, to hear time
and again the believing people and their leaders raise a complaining and
indignant voice against a science that has become a most dangerous
antagonist to their holiest goods! Is it not painful to see the devout
mother apprehensively cautioning her son, who departs for the university,
not to let his faith be taken from him by teaching and association? Is it
not sad to observe that it has become the common saying: “He has lost his
faith at the university”? Is it not regrettable to see that Catholic
universities have become necessary to preserve the ideal goods of the
Christian religion? It is unavoidable that such complaints are sometimes
exaggerated. In their generality they include universities that have given
small reason for them; honourable men and representatives of sciences who
should not be reproached are being mixed up in these charges. But it is
true, nevertheless, that many have given such occasion. Is it not true
also that many remain silent instead of protesting in the name of true
science? that they feel it incumbent upon themselves to protect such a
procedure, for the sake of the freedom of science?
For a generation and longer, _Haeckel_ misused science to make war
upon religion, and went to the extreme in his scientific
outrageousness, not even stopping at forgery. Professor _W. His_
had already in 1875 expressed his opinion of _Haeckel_ in relation
to the false drawings of his embryonic illustrations in the words:
“Others may respect _Haeckel_ as an active and reckless leader: in
my judgment he has on account of his methods forfeited the right
to be considered an equal in the circle of serious investigators.”
When Dr. _Brass_, a member of the Kepler Bund, recently disclosed
new forgeries of this kind, it should have been made the occasion
for a protest in the interest of science and its freedom against
such methods. Instead of that, however, forty-six professors of
biology and zoölogy published a statement in defence of _Haeckel_,
declaring that while not approving of _Haeckel’s_ method in some
instances, they condemned in the interest of science and of
freedom of teaching most strongly the war waged against _Haeckel_
by _Brass_ and the Kepler Bund. Is the freedom to use methods like
_Haeckel’s_ included in the freedom of teaching, which they
consider must be defended? Can it surprise any one that this
freedom of teaching is viewed with concern?
Much excitement was caused a few years ago by a pamphlet of an
Austrian professor. Another Austrian professor, of high rank in
science, criticized the pamphlet as “A reckless and absolute
negation of the foundation of the Christian dogma in the widest
sense of the word, proclaimed as the verdict of science and of
common sense. It is replete with blasphemous jokes, such as may
usually be heard only in the most vulgar places.”
A cry of indignation was raised by the Catholic people of the
Tyrol against this base insult to their creed; it was shown that
the author of this pamphlet had misused his lectures on Catholic
Canon Law, to speak to his Catholic students disdainfully of the
Divinity of Christ, of the Sacraments, of the Church, and the
prime foundations of Christianity. Upon indictment by the public
prosecutor, the pamphlet was condemned in Court as a libel upon
the Christian religion.
It was expected that the representatives of science, in defence of
the threatened honour of science, would repudiate all community of
interest with a production that was merely the expression of an
anti-Christian propaganda. That expectation was not fulfilled; on
the contrary, those in authority at the Austrian universities, and
numerous professors of other countries, joined in a protest
against the violation of the rights of a professor, against the
attacks on freedom of science. They demanded full immunity for the
author of the libel. Even the state department of Religion and
Education expressed the opinion that the accused “had only availed
himself of the right of free research.” Is this the freedom in
teaching that is to be protected by the state? And yet there are
those who indignantly deny that there is danger for religion in
this freedom!
He who really has at heart the honour of science and of the universities,
and is inspired by their ideals, should bear in mind that to realize these
ideals the first thing necessary is public confidence: not the confidence
of a revolutionizing minority,—a scrutiny of those elements that give them
their plaudits ought to arouse reflection,—but the confidence of earnest,
conservative circles of the uncorrupted people.
In academic circles the increasing lack of respect for the
university and its teachers is complained of. Professor _Von
Amira_ writes: “Thirty years ago the academic teacher was
reverenced by the highest society; his association was sought; he
had no need of any other title than the one that told what he was.
To-day we see a different picture, particularly as to the title
’professor.’ To-day they smile at it. Nowadays, if a professor
desires to impress, he must bear a title designating something
else than what he really is. A literature has grown up that deals
with the decline of the universities. The fact of a decline is
taken for granted, only its causes and remedies are discussed. And
this is not all. Invectives are bestowed upon the institutions,
upon the teachers as a body, upon the individual teacher. And
there is no one to take up the cudgels in our defence!” A fact
suggesting earnest self-examination, and the resolution not to
forfeit still more this respect. It is not sufficient to repudiate
with indignation the complaints. Nor will it do to pretend a
respect for religion and Christianity, and a desire to see both
preserved, that are not really felt. What is needed is the
admission that the road taken is the wrong one.
The Responsibility before History.
The distressing fact is realized that the worm of immorality is devouring
in our day the marrow of the most civilized nations. It is also known that
its wretched victims are in no class so numerous as in the class of
college men. Earnest-minded men and women are raising a warning cry, and
are forming societies to stem the ruin of the nations. The alarm bell is
ringing through the lands.
Remarkable words on this subject are those written not long ago by
_Paulsen_: “It looks as if all the demons had been let loose at
this moment to devastate the basis of the people’s life. Those who
know Germany through reading only, through its comic weeklies, its
plays, its novels, the windows of its bookshops, the lectures
delivered and attended by male and female, must arrive at the
opinion that the paramount question to the German people just now
is whether the restrictions put on the free play of the sexual
impulse by custom and law are evil and should be abolished?”
_Paulsen_ puts the responsibility for it upon the sophistry on the
sexual instinct and the present naturalism in the view of the
world: “The prevailing naturalism in the view of world and life is
leading to astonishing aberrations of judgment, and this is true
also of men otherwise discerning. If man is nothing else but a
system of natural instincts, similar in this to the rest of living
beings, then, indeed, no one can tell what other purpose life
could have than the gratification of all instincts.... Reformation
of ideas—this is the cry heard in all streets; cast off a
Christianity hostile to life, that is killing in embryo thousands
of possibilities for happiness. True, even in past ages young
people were not spared temptation. But the barriers were stronger;
traditional, moral, religious sentiment, and sensible views. Our
time has pulled down these barriers; young people everywhere are
advised by all the leading lights of the day: old morals and
religion are dead, slain by modern science; the old commandments
are the obsolete fetters of superstition. We know now their
origin; they are but auto-suggestions of common consciousness
which mistakes them for voices from another world, that has been
deposed long since by the scientific thought of to-day.”
These are words of indignation of a well-meaning friend of mankind. Do
they not rebound upon the speaker himself to become terrible
self-accusations for him and others, who, while perhaps of similar
well-meaning sentiment, are actually working for the annihilation of the
moral-religious sentiment, as _Paulsen_ himself has done by his books?
“The old religion is dead, slain by science,” is proclaimed in
innumerable passages of his books; the idea of another world has
long been disposed of by the scientific reasoning of the present
time, “hence a philosophy,” he tells us, “which insists upon the
thesis that certain natural processes make it necessary to assume
a metaphysical principle, or a supernatural agency, will always
have science for an irreconcilable opponent.” “It will be
difficult for a future age to understand,” he writes elsewhere,
“how our times so complacently could cling to a system of
religious instruction originated many centuries ago under entirely
different conditions of intellectual life, and which in many
points forms the decided opposite to facts and notions which,
outside of the school, are taken by our times for granted.” In
respect to morals, too, one can do without a supernatural law.
“According to the view presented here, ethics as a science does
not depend on belief.... Moral laws are the natural laws of the
human-historical life of time and place.... Nor does it seem
advisable in pedagogical-practical respect to make the force or
the significance of ethical commands dependent on a matter so
uncertain as the belief in a future life.” We might cite many
similar expressions from his writings.
It is significant that they have to condemn their own science in
view of its sad consequences.
_Paulsen_ loudly demands _restriction for the freedom of art_, for the
industry of lewdness, for the literature of perversity.
He says: “The English people, admired by us because of their
liberal principles and free institutions, are less afraid to show
by the sternest means the door to salacious minds ... the feeling
of responsibility for preserving the roots of the strength of the
people’s life is in England far more wide awake than with us, who
still feel in our bones the fear of censure and the policeman’s
club.... But what are the things committed by our nasty trades and
the publications in their service other than so many assaults upon
our liberty? Are they not primarily an assault upon the inner
freedom of adolescent youth who are made slaves of their lowest
instincts by the industries of these merchants? Therefore admonish
the hangman not to be swerved by the plea of freedom.”
No one will deny approval to these words. But do they not, again, become a
severe condemnation of the reckless freedom in teaching, that claims the
right to assault without hindrance the truths which are the foundation of
our nation? If art must not become a danger, why may science? If the
artist is asked to take into consideration the innocence and weal of young
people, if he is cautioned not to follow solely “his sense for beauty,”
why should the teacher be allowed to follow his “sense for truth” without
regard for anything else? If no statute of limitation and restriction
exist for science, neither prescribed nor prohibited ideas for the
academic teacher, why should there be any prohibited “æsthetic principles”
for the artist? Manifestly, because here the absurdity of this freedom is
more clearly perceptible, because it leads to shamelessness. At this
juncture, therefore, they are constrained to concede the untenability and
the senselessness of the unlimited human freedom, that is defended with so
much volubility.
_Paulsen_ points to an age in which, similarly to our times,
progressive men arose and, in the name of science, discarded
religion and morals; they called themselves men of science, sages,
“sophists.” “It is remarkable that the very same occurrence was
observed more than 2,000 years ago, when _Plato_ experienced it in
his time with the young people of Athens, who became fascinated by
similar sophistical speech.”
The noble Sage of Greece had caustic words for _Protagoras_, the
champion of sophistry, and his brethren in spirit: “If cobblers
and tailors were to put in worse condition the shoes and clothes
they receive for improving, this would soon be known and they
would starve; not so _Protagoras_, who is corrupting quietly the
whole of Hellas, and who has dismissed his disciples in a worse
state than he received them, and this for more than forty
years.... Not _Protagoras_ alone, but many others did this before
and after him. Did they knowingly deceive and poison the youth or
did they not realize what they were doing? Are we to assume that
these men, praised by many for their sagacity, have done so in
ignorance? No, they were not blind to their acts, but blind were
the young people who paid them for instruction, blind were their
parents who confided them to these sophists, blindest were the
communities that admitted them instead of turning them away.”
What a responsibility to co-operate in the intellectual corruption of
entire generations! And the corruption by dechristianizing is increasing
in all circles, owing to the misuse of science. That the condition is not
even worse is not the merit of this science, nor evidence of the
harmlessness of its freedom; it is the merit of the after effect of a
Christian past, which continues to influence, consciously or
unconsciously, the thought and feeling even of those circles that seem to
be long since estranged from Christianity.
Concerning the decline of morality in our age _Paulsen_ observes:
“_Foerster_ rightly emphasizes the fact that the old Church
rendered an imperishable service in moralizing and spiritualizing
our life, by urging first of all the discipline of the will, and
by raising heroes of self-denial in the persons of her Saints.
That we still draw from this patrimony I, too, do not doubt. _That
we waste it carelessly is indeed the great danger._”
‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐
“It was a wonderfully balmy evening in the fall of 1905,” relates
Rev. _L. Ballet_, missionary in Japan, “and the sun had just set
behind Mount Fiji. Unexpectedly a young Japanese appeared in front
of me, desiring to talk to me. I noticed that he was a young
student. I bade him enter, and we saluted each other with a low
bow, as persons meeting for the first time. I asked him to take a
seat opposite to me, and took advantage of the first moments of
silence to take a good look at him. But imagine my astonishment
when his first question was, ‘Do you believe life is worth
living?’ asked in an earnest but calm manner. I confess this
question from lips so young alarmed me and went to my heart like a
thrust. ‘Why, certainly,’ was my reply, ‘life is worth living, and
living good. How do you come to ask a question that sounds so
strange from the lips of a young man? You certainly do not desire
to follow the example of your fellow-countryman _Fijimura Misao_,
who jumped into the abyss from Mount Kegon?’—‘No, sir, at least
not yet. I confess, however, that I feel my hesitation to be
cowardice, for I have made this resolution for some time. In my
opinion man is purely a thing of blind accident, a wretched,
ephemeral fly without importance, without value. Why then prolong
a life in which a little pleasure is added to so much sorrow, so
much disappointment; a life that at any rate finally melts away
into nothing? I am more and more convinced that this is the
truth.’—‘And what brought you to such views?’—‘Well, science,
philosophy, the books which I have read for pastime or study. If
it were only the opinion of our few Japanese scientists one might
hesitate; but the science, the philosophy, of Europe, translated
and expounded by our writers, teach the same thing. God, soul,
future life, all is idle delusion. Nothing is eternal but only
matter. After twenty, thirty, sixty years, man dies, and there
remains nothing of him but his body, which will decay in order to
pass into other beings, matter like he was. This is what science
teaches us; a hard doctrine, I confess; but what is there to be
said against it, considering the positive results of scientific
research?’ ”
Great responsibility is borne by a science that despoils mankind of its
best, of all that gives it comfort and support in life! In faraway Japan
there is not the spiritual power of Christianity to counteract the misuse
of science; the poison does its work and there is no antidote.
That the Christian nations “carelessly waste their patrimony, that,
indeed, is the great danger.”
Chapter II. Freedom Of Teaching And The State.
Close bonds of mutual dependence and solidarity interlink all created
beings, especially men. Insufficient in himself, both physically and
mentally, man finds in uniting with others everything he needs; thus do
individuals and families join forces, generations join hands; what the
fathers have earned is inherited and increased by new generations. Human
life is essentially social life and co-operation—in the indefinite form
social life within the great human society, in the definite form social
life within the two great bodies, Church and state. Within both bodies
human benefits are to be attained and protected against danger by common
exertion—within the Church the spiritual benefits of eternal character,
within the state the temporal benefits.
Hence both bodies, or societies, will have to take a position in relation
to science and its doctrine. Indeed, in civilized nations there is hardly
a public activity of mightier influence upon life than science. The
contemplation of this position shall now be our task.
Science, as we have above set forth, addresses itself to mankind—a
fallible science addressing itself to men easily deceived; therefore, an
unrestricted freedom in teaching is ethically inadmissible. Hence it
follows, as a matter of course, that the authorities of state and Church,
who must guard the common benefits, have the duty of keeping the freedom
in scientific teaching within its proper bounds, so far as this lies in
their power. Hitherto we have left these social authorities out of
consideration; the position taken was the general ethical one.
The case might be supposed that the Church had provided few restrictions
of this kind, and the state none at all; nevertheless, an absolute freedom
in teaching would still present a condition dangerous to the community at
large, contrary to the demands of morality; we should then have an
unrestricted freedom in teaching, permitted by law, but ethically
inadmissible.
The distinction is important. Quite often freedom in teaching is spoken of
as permitted by the state, as if it was identical with ethical permission.
If freedom in teaching is permitted by the state, this evidently means
only that the state permits teaching without interference on its part; it
says, I do not stand in the way, I let things proceed. But this does not
mean that it is right and proper. The burden of personal responsibility
rests upon him who avails himself of a freedom which, though not hindered
by the state, is in conflict with what is right. The state tolerates many
things—it does not interfere against unkindness, nor against extravagance,
nor deceit; nevertheless everybody is morally responsible for such doings.
If, then, we take up the question, what position social authority should
take toward scientific teaching, whether it be in the higher schools, or
outside of them, we are considering chiefly the state. It is the state
that enters most into consideration when freedom in teaching nowadays is
discussed; the state may interfere most effectively in the management of
schools and universities, for these are state institutions in most
countries.
Universities as State Institutions.
They were not always state institutions. The universities of the Middle
Ages were autonomous corporations, which constituted themselves, made
their own statutes, had their own courts, but enjoyed at the same time
legal rights. Conditions gradually changed after the Reformation. The
power of princes began more and more to interfere in the management of the
universities, until in the seventeenth century, and still more in the
eighteenth, the universities became state institutions, subject to the
reigning sovereign, the professors his salaried officials, and text-books,
subject and form of instruction were prescribed by the minute, paternal
directions of the sovereign, and with the mania for regulating that was a
feature of the eighteenth century. The nineteenth century brought more
liberty; it was demanded by the enlarged scope of universities, which no
longer were only the training schools for the learned professions, but
became the home of research, needing freedom of movement.
Nevertheless, universities are in many countries still state institutions.
They are founded by the state, are given organization and laws by the
state; the teachers are appointed and given their commissions by the
state. They are state officials, though less under government supervision
than other state officials. At the same time these universities are
possessed of a certain measure of autonomy, a remainder of olden times.
They elect their academic authorities, which have some autonomy and
disciplinary jurisdiction. Likewise the separate faculties have their
powers; they confer degrees, administer their benefices, and exert
considerable influence in filling vacant chairs.
The state then considers it its duty to grant freedom in teaching.
“Science and its teaching are free,” says the law in some countries. No
doubt a loosely drawn sentence; at any rate, it means that science should
be granted the _proper_ freedom. And this freedom it must have. We have
become more sensitive of unjustified paternal government than were the
people of the eighteenth century.
The Object of the State.
What kind of a freedom in teaching, then, should be granted by the state?
Unlimited freedom? This is, at any rate, not a necessary conclusion. The
state must also grant freedom to the father for the education of his
children, to the landowner for the culture of his fields, to the artist in
the production of his works; but that freedom would not be understood to
be an unlimited one, having no regard to the interests of society, but
merely as the exclusion of unwarranted interference. Hence if the state,
for reasons of the commonwealth, were to restrict freedom of teaching, the
restraint could not be considered unjust. The purpose of the state must
not suffer injury; to attain this purpose the state has the right to
demand, and must demand, all that is necessary to the purpose in view,
even though it entails a restriction of somebody’s freedom. Now for a
definition of this purpose of the state.
Like any other society, the state seeks to attain a definite object, so
much the more because the state is necessary to man, who otherwise would
have to forego the things most needed in life; and but for the public
co-operation of the many these could be attained not at all, or at least
not sufficiently. To provide these things is the object of the state,
viz., the public welfare of the citizens; it is to bring about public
conditions which will enable the citizens to attain their temporal
welfare. To this end the state must protect the rights of its subjects,
and must protect and promote the public goods of economic life, but
especially the spiritual benefits of morals and religion. The state,
through its legislative, judicial, and executive functions, is to _direct_
effectively the community to this end; therefore it is incumbent upon the
state to care for the preservation and promotion of both material and
spiritual benefits, for the protection of private rights, and for the
conditions necessary to its own existence, even against the arbitrary will
of its subjects.
Protection for the Spiritual Foundations of Life.
From this the conclusion naturally follows, that the state must not grant
freedom to propound in public, by speech or writing, theories that will
_endanger the religious and moral goods of its citizens and the foundation
of the state_.
We claim that the state neglects a solemn duty if it permits without
hindrance—we will not say, the ridicule and disparagement of religion and
morals: the less so, as freedom to ridicule and to slander has nothing to
do with freedom in teaching—but the public promulgation of theories which
are either irreligious, or against morals, or against the state. Even
though they be done in scientific form, injuries to the common weal remain
injuries, and they do not change into something else by being committed in
scientific form. The state must seek to prevent such injuries by strictly
enforced penalties and by the selection of conscientious teachers. The
enforcement of the principle may not be possible under circumstances,
legislatures may lack insight or good will, or the complexion of the state
may not admit of it for the time being, or permanently. Then we would
simply see a regrettable condition, a government incapable of ridding
itself of the morbid matter which is poisoning its marrow. But if there is
good will and energy, one thing may always be done to check injurious
influences, and that is the awakening and employment of forces of
opposition.
The University of Halle is said to have been the first one to
enjoy modern freedom in teaching. What, at that time, however, was
meant by freedom in teaching, is shown by the words of _Chr.
Thomasius_ in 1694: “Thank God that He has prompted His Anointed
(the prince) not to introduce here the yoke under which many are
now and then languishing, but gracefully to grant our teachers the
freedom of doctrines _that are not against God and the state_.”
One hundred and fifty years later Minister _Eichhorn_ advised the
University of Koenigsberg that in natural sciences neither the
individual freedom in teaching nor of research are limited, that
the case is different, however, with philosophy as applied to
life, with history, theology, and the science of laws. “The first
requisite there,” he said, “is a proper bent of mind, which,
however, can find its basis and its lasting support only in
religion. With the proper bent of mind there will be no desire to
teach doctrines which attack the roots of the very life of one’s
own country.”
Now, what considerations make it plain that the duty of the state is as
stated? Two: consideration for its subjects, and consideration for the
state itself. The state must protect the highest _possessions of its
citizens_. For that reason men are by nature itself prompted to found
states, so as to protect better their common goods, by the strong hand of
an authority, against foes from within and without, and to enable them to
bequeath those goods inviolate to their sons and grandsons. Hence they
must demand of state-power not to tolerate conditions which would greatly
jeopardize those goods, and certainly not to allow attacks thereon by its
own educational organs. The highest spiritual benefits of civilization,
and at the same time the necessary foundations of a well-ordered life,
are, first of all, morality and religion; not morality alone, but also
religion, do not forget this. Man’s first duty is the duty of worshipping
God, of recognizing and worshipping his Creator, the ultimate end of all
things. A profound truth was stated by _Aristotle_, when, coupling the
duties to God with those to parents, he said that those merit punishment
who question the duty of worshipping the gods and of loving one’s parents.
Hence the first thing to be preserved to the nations is religion; it is in
many ways their most precious possession, too. Not only do all nations
possess religion, not excepting the most uncivilized; but there is no
power that influences life and stirs the heart more than religion.
Consider the religious wars of history; while they were surely deplorable,
they demonstrate what religion is to man. Even in individuals who to all
appearance are irreligious, religion never fully dies out; it appears
there in false forms, or is their great puzzle, maybe the incubus of their
lives, giving them no rest. Only in conjunction with firm religious
principle can morality stand fast. Nowadays they work for ethics without
religion, for education and school without God. Theoreticians in their
four walls, removed from all real life, are busily working out systems of
this sort. This new ethics has not yet stood the test of life, or, if it
did, it has succeeded in gaining for its adherents only those who are at
odds with religion and morals. These theories must first be otherwise
attested before they may replace the old, well-tried religious
foundations.
The noted and justly esteemed pedagogue, _Fr. W. Foerster_,
writes: “On the part of free-thinkers vigorous complaint has been
made that my book so decidedly confesses the unparalleled
pedagogic strength of the Christian religion. The author therefore
repeats emphatically that this confession has not grown out of an
arbitrary metaphysical mood, but directly out of his
moral-pedagogic studies. For over ten years of a long period of
instructing the youth in ethics, he has been engaged exclusively
in studying psychologically the problem of character-forming, and
the result of his studies is his conviction that all attempts at
educating youth without religion are absolutely futile. And, in
the judgment of the author, the only reason why the notion that
religion is superfluous in education is prevalent in such large
circles of modern pedagogues, is, that they have no extensive
practical experience in character-training, nor made thorough and
concentrated studies.” “The fact is, that all education in which
religion to all outward appearance is dispensed with, is still
deeply influenced by the after-effect of religious sanction and
religious earnestness. What education without religion really
means will become more clearly known in the coming generation.”
The state is zealous in protecting the property of its citizens, to which
end a powerful police apparatus is constantly at work. If the state deems
it its duty to interfere in this matter, must it not consider it a still
higher duty to protect religion and morals, for the very reason that they
are the property of its citizens, and even their most precious? _Pro aris
et focis_, for home and altar, was what was fought for by the old Romans.
Is it possible that a pagan government was more sterling and high-minded
than the Christian state of the present? If it is to be the bearer of
civilization, it ought to consider that man liveth not by bread alone. The
only true mental civilization is the one which does not hamper but helps
man in attaining his eternal goal.
Modern state power is being urged from all sides to take measures against
the corruption of morals by the novel and the shop window, and not to look
on apathetically when the consuming fire is spreading all about, in the
name of art. Are the dangers to the spiritual health of society any less
if reformers, in the name of science, shake at the foundations of
matrimony, advocate polygamy, teach atheism? Because a so-called reformer
has lost the fundamental truths of our moral-religious order, must all the
rest submit to an attack upon the sacred possessions of themselves and
their descendants?
That the rights of the teacher are not unrestricted was set forth
by an American paper (“Science,” No. 321) in its comment upon the
removal of certain professors: “There are barriers set to them on
the one hand by the rights of the students, and by the rights of
the college where he teaches, on the other. The college must
preserve its reputation and its good name, the student must be
protected against palpable errors and waste of time.... If a
professor of sociology should attack the institution of matrimony,
and propound the gospel of polygamy and of free love, then neither
the right to teach his views nor his honesty of purpose would save
him from dismissal. This is of course a very extreme case, not
likely to happen.”
Is it so very extreme? Certainly not in regard to teaching by
books. Listen: “From the foregoing it is self-evident that
polygyny based upon the rivalry of men for women (analogous to the
animal kingdom) presents the natural sexual practice of mankind.
Whether there is to be preferred a simultaneous or a successive
polygyny, or a combination of both, would depend on varying
conditions. The ethical type of the sexual condition, viz., in
general the desirable biological type, is the one that would best
suit a polygyny based upon a selection of man.” It is taught
further: “The monogamic principle of marriage in general is only
conditionally favorable to civilization, whereas it is destructive
of it constitutionally, hence in need of reform.” “Our
contemporaneous sexual reform wave has not yet assumed the
position of this knowledge; on the contrary, notwithstanding its
revolutionary aspect in some particulars, it is still under the
ban of the traditional ideal of marriage”; continence before
marriage is an “absurd” proposition!
This new system of morals, fit for the barnyard, but for women the
lowest degradation, is now to become the ideal of men, nay, even
of women: “True motherly pride, true womanly dignity, are
incompatible with the exclusiveness of the monogamic property
principle. If our movement for sexual reform is to elevate us
instead of plunging us into the mire, then this view must become
part and parcel of our women.” “The picture of the motherly woman,
of the woman with the pride of sexual modesty, instead of with the
exciting desire of possession ... this picture must become the
ideal of men, and sink down to the bottom of their soul and into
the fibres of their nervous system; it must animate their fancy
and awaken their sensual passions.”(20) We stand right in the
midst of the world of beasts!
This perilous moral teaching is allowed also in public lectures.
On November 14, 1908, the “Allgemeine Rundschau” wrote: “Imagine a
spacious concert-hall, brightly illuminated, every one of the many
seats occupied, the boxes filled to the last place, the aisles
crowded, by a most variegated audience: men and women, young
maidens, youths with downy beard; gentlemen of high rank with
their ladies, faces upon which are written a life of vast
experience side by side with childish faces whose innocence is
betrayed by their looks, and on the platform a university
professor and physician, holding forth about the most intimate
relations of sexual life: the unfitness of celibacy, the Catholic
morals of matrimony, prostitution and prostitutes, the causes of
adultery, ‘sterile marriage,’ onanism, and many kinds of
perversities. The man is, moreover, speaking in a fashion that
makes one forget the admonishments of conscience.”
The city council of Lausanne, in its meeting of February 10, 1907,
prohibited _Forel’s_ lecture as an attack upon decency and public
morals, making reference in its resolution to _Forel’s_ ideas as
laid down in his book. In protest, _Forel_ made a public
statement, saying among other things: “If the council desires to
be logical it would have to prohibit also the sale of my book.” We
have no objection to make to his conclusion.
We stated that religion is man’s first duty. This applies not only to the
individual, but also—and this is forgotten too often—to the state. Man, by
his nature, and hence in all forms of his life, including his citizenship,
is obliged to have religion. He remains in all conditions the creature
which is dependent upon God. And does not the state, too, owe special
duties of gratitude to God? It owes its origin to God: the impulse to
found states has been put into the human nature by its Creator; the state
owes to God the foundation of its authority: in a thousand difficulties
the state is thrown upon His help. Therefore a public divine service is
found with all peoples. Does the state comply with this duty by silently
supporting a public atheism when it might do otherwise? by even becoming
its patron, when, posing as science, it ascends to the lecturing desk to
teach adolescing youth?