OUR MONISTIC ETHICS
Monistic and Dualistic Ethics--Contradiction of Pure and
Practical Reason in Kant--His Categorical Imperative--The
Neo-Kantians--Herbert Spencer--Egoism and Altruism--Equivalence
of the Two Instincts--The Fundamental Law of Ethics: the Golden
Rule--Its Antiquity--Christian Ethics--Contempt of Self, the
Body, Nature, Civilization, the Family, Woman--Roman Catholic
Ethics--Immoral Results of Celibacy--Necessity for the Abolition of
the Law of Celibacy, Oral Confession, and Indulgences--State and
Church--Religion a Private Concern--Church and School--State and
School--Need of School Reform
The practical conduct of life makes a number of definite ethical claims
on a man which can only be duly and naturally satisfied when they are
in complete harmony with his view of the world. In accordance with this
fundamental principle of our monistic philosophy, our whole system of
ethics must be rationally connected with the unified conception of the
cosmos which we have formed by our advanced knowledge of the laws of
nature. Just as the infinite universe is one great whole in the light
of our monistic teaching, so the spiritual and moral life of man is
a part of this cosmos, and our naturalistic ordering of it must also
be monistic. There are not two different, separate worlds--the one
physical and material, and the other moral and immaterial.
The great majority of philosophers and theologians still hold the
contrary opinion. They affirm, with Kant, that the moral world is quite
independent of the physical, and is subject to very different laws;
hence a man's conscience, as the basis of his moral life, must also be
quite independent of our scientific knowledge of the world, and must be
based rather on his religious faith. On that theory the study of the
moral world belongs to _practical_ reason, while that of nature, or of
the physical world, is referred to _pure_ or theoretical reason. This
unequivocal and conscious dualism of Kant's philosophy was its greatest
defect; it has caused, and still causes, incalculable mischief. First
of all the "critical Kant" had built up the splendid and marvellous
palace of pure reason, and convincingly proved that the three great
central dogmas of metaphysics--a personal God, free will, and the
immortal soul--had no place whatever in it, and that no rational proof
could be found of their reality. Afterwards, however, the "dogmatic
Kant" superimposed on this true crystal palace of _pure_ reason the
glittering, ideal castle in the air of _practical_ reason, in which
three imposing church-naves were designed for the accommodation of
those three great mystic divinities. When they had been put out at the
front door by rational knowledge they returned by the back door under
the guidance of irrational faith.
The cupola of his great cathedral of faith was crowned by Kant with his
curious idol, the famous "categorical imperative." According to it,
the demand of the universal moral law is unconditional, independent of
any regard to actuality or potentiality. It runs: "Act at all times in
such wise that the maxim (or the subjective law of thy will) may hold
good as a principle of a universal law." On that theory all normal men
would have the same sense of duty. Modern anthropology has ruthlessly
dissipated that pretty dream; it has shown that conceptions of duty
differ even more among uncivilized than among civilized nations. All
the actions and customs which we regard as sins or loathsome crimes
(theft, fraud, murder, adultery, etc.) are considered by other nations
in certain circumstances to be virtues, or even sacred duties.
Although the obvious contradiction of the two forms of reason in Kant's
teaching, the fundamental antagonism of pure and practical reason, was
recognized and attacked at the very beginning of the century, it is
still pretty widely accepted. The modern school of neo-Kantians urges a
"return to Kant" so pressingly precisely on account of this agreeable
dualism; the Church militant zealously supports it because it fits
in admirably with its own mystic faith. But it met with an effective
reverse at the hands of modern science in the second half of the
nineteenth century, which entirely demolished the theses of the system
of practical reason. Monistic cosmology proved, on the basis of the law
of substance, that there is no personal God; comparative and genetic
psychology showed that there cannot be an immortal soul; and monistic
physiology proved the futility of the assumption of "free will."
Finally, the science of evolution made it clear that the same eternal
iron laws that rule in the inorganic world are valid too in the organic
and moral world.
But modern science gives not only a negative support to practical
philosophy and ethics in demolishing the Kantian dualism, but it
renders the positive service of substituting for it the new structure
of ethical monism. It shows that the feeling of duty does not rest
on an illusory "categorical imperative," but on the solid ground of
_social instinct_, as we find in the case of all social animals. It
regards as the highest aim of all morality the re-establishment of a
sound harmony between egoism and altruism, between self-love and the
love of one's neighbor. It is to the great English philosopher, Herbert
Spencer, that we owe the founding of this monistic ethics on a basis of
evolution.
Man belongs to the social vertebrates, and has, therefore, like all
social animals, two sets of duties--first to himself, and secondly
to the society to which he belongs. The former are the behests of
self-love or egoism, the latter of love for one's fellows or altruism.
The two sets of precepts are equally just, equally natural, and equally
indispensable. If a man desire to have the advantage of living in an
organized community, he has to consult not only his own fortune, but
also that of the society, and of the "neighbors" who form the society.
He must realize that its prosperity is his own prosperity, and that it
cannot suffer without his own injury. This fundamental law of society
is so simple and so inevitable that one cannot understand how it can be
contradicted in theory or in practice; yet that is done to-day, and has
been done for thousands of years.
The equal appreciation of these two natural impulses, or the moral
equivalence of self-love and love of others, is the chief and the
fundamental principle of our morality. Hence the highest aim of all
ethics is very simple--it is the re-establishment of "the natural
equality of egoism and altruism, of the love of one's self and the
love of one's neighbor." The Golden Rule says: "Do unto others as you
would that they should do unto you." From this highest precept of
Christianity it follows of itself that we have just as sacred duties
towards ourselves as we have towards our fellows. I have explained
my conception of this principle in my _Monism_, and laid down three
important theses. (1) Both these concurrent impulses are natural
laws, of equal importance and necessity for the preservation of the
family and the society; egoism secures the self-preservation of the
individual, altruism that of the species which is made up of the chain
of perishable individuals. (2) The social duties which are imposed
by the social structure of the associated individuals, and by means
of which it secures its preservation, are merely higher evolutionary
stages of the social instincts, which we find in all higher social
animals (as "habits which have become hereditary"). (3) In the case of
civilized man all ethics, theoretical or practical, being "a science
of rules," is connected with his view of the world at large, and
consequently with his religion.
From the recognition of the fundamental principle of our morality
we may immediately deduce its highest precept, that noble command,
which is often called the Golden Rule of morals, or, briefly, the
Golden Rule. Christ repeatedly expressed it in the simple phrase:
"Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." Mark adds that "there is
no greater commandment than this," and Matthew says: "In these two
commandments is the whole law and the prophets." In this greatest and
highest commandment our monistic ethics is completely at one with
Christianity. We must, however, recall the historical fact that the
formulation of this supreme command is not an original merit of Christ,
as the majority of Christian theologians affirm and their uncritical
supporters blindly accept. The Golden Rule is five hundred years
older than Christ; it was laid down as the highest moral principle by
many Greek and Oriental sages. Pittacus, of Mylene, one of the seven
wise men of Greece, said six hundred and twenty years before Christ:
"Do not that to thy neighbor that thou wouldst not suffer from him."
Confucius, the great Chinese philosopher and religious founder (who
rejected the idea of a personal God and of the immortality of the
soul), said five hundred years B.C.: "Do to every man as thou wouldst
have him do to thee; and do not to another what thou wouldst not have
him do to thee. This precept only dost thou need; it is the foundation
of all other commandments." Aristotle taught about the middle of the
fourth century B.C.: "We must act towards others as we wish others
to act towards us." In the same sense, and partly in the same words,
the Golden Rule was given by Thales, Isocrates, Aristippus, Sextus,
the Pythagorean, and other philosophers of classic antiquity--several
centuries before Christ. From this collection it is clear that the
Golden Rule had a _polyphyletic_ origin--that is, it was formulated by
a number of philosophers at different times and in different places,
quite independently of each other. Otherwise it must be assumed that
Jesus derived it from some other Oriental source, from ancient Semitic,
Indian, Chinese, or especially Buddhistic traditions, as has been
proved in the case of most of the other Christian doctrines.
As the great ethical principle is thus twenty-five hundred years old,
and as Christianity itself has put it at the head of its moral teaching
as the highest and all-embracing commandment, it follows that our
monistic ethics is in complete harmony on this important point, not
only with the ethics of the ancient heathens, but also with that of
Christianity. Unfortunately this harmony is disturbed by the fact that
the gospels and the Pauline epistles contain many other points of moral
teaching, which contradict our first and supreme commandment. Christian
theologians have fruitlessly striven to explain away these striking
and painful contradictions by their ingenious interpretations. We need
not enter into that question now, but we must briefly consider those
unfortunate aspects of Christian ethics which are incompatible with the
better thought of the modern age, and which are distinctly injurious
in their practical consequences. Of that character is the contempt
which Christianity has shown for self, for the body, for nature, for
civilization, for the family, and for woman.
I. The supreme mistake of Christian ethics, and one which runs
directly counter to the Golden Rule, is its exaggeration of love of
one's neighbor at the expense of self-love. Christianity attacks and
despises egoism on principle. Yet that natural impulse is absolutely
indispensable in view of self-preservation; indeed, one may say that
even altruism, its apparent opposite, is only an enlightened egoism.
Nothing great or elevated has ever taken place without egoism, and
without the passion that urges us to great sacrifices. It is only
the excesses of the impulse that are injurious. One of the Christian
precepts that were impressed upon us in our early youth as of great
importance, and that are glorified in millions of sermons, is: "Love
your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you,
and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you." It is
a very ideal precept, but as useless in practice as it is unnatural.
So it is with the counsel, "If any man will take away thy coat, let
him have thy cloak also." Translated into the terms of modern life,
that means: "When some unscrupulous scoundrel has defrauded thee of
half thy goods, let him have the other half also." Or, again, in the
language of modern politics: "When the pious English take from you
simple Germans one after another of your new and valuable colonies in
Africa, let them have all the rest of your colonies also--or, best of
all, give them Germany itself." And, while we touch on the marvellous
world-politics of modern England, we may note in passing its direct
contradiction of every precept of Christian charity, which is more
frequently on the lips of that great nation than of any other nation in
the world. However, the glaring contradiction between the theoretical,
_ideal_, altruistic morality of the human individual and the _real_,
purely selfish morality of the human community, and especially of the
civilized Christian state, is a familiar fact. It would be interesting
to determine mathematically in what proportion among organized men the
altruistic ethical ideal of the individual changes into its contrary,
the purely egoistic "real politics" of the state and the nation.
II. Since the Christian faith takes a wholly dualistic view of the
human organism and attributes to the immortal soul only a temporary
sojourn in the mortal frame, it very naturally sets a much greater
value on the soul than on the body. Hence results that neglect of the
care of the body, of training, and of cleanliness which contrasts the
life of the Christian Middle Ages so unfavorably with that of pagan
classical antiquity. Christian ethics contains none of those firm
commands as to daily ablutions which are theoretically laid down and
practically fulfilled in the Mohammedan, Hindoo, and other religions.
In many monasteries the ideal of the pious Christian is the man who
does not wash and clothe himself properly, who never changes his
malodorous gown, and who, instead of regular work, fills up his useless
life with mechanical prayers, senseless fasts, and so forth. As a
special outgrowth of this contempt of the body we have the disgusting
discipline of the flagellants and other ascetics.
III. One source of countless theoretical errors and practical
blemishes, of deplorable crudity and privation, is found in the false
anthropism of Christianity--that is, in the unique position which
it gives to man, as the image of God, in opposition to all the rest
of nature. In this way it has contributed, not only to an extremely
injurious isolation from our glorious mother "nature," but also to
a regrettable contempt of all other organisms. Christianity has no
place for that well-known love of animals, that sympathy with the
nearly related and friendly mammals (dogs, horses, cattle, etc.),
which is urged in the ethical teaching of many of the older religions,
especially Buddhism. Whoever has spent much time in the south of Europe
must have often witnessed those frightful sufferings of animals which
fill us friends of animals with the deepest sympathy and indignation.
And when one expostulates with these brutal "Christians" on their
cruelty, the only answer is, with a laugh: "But the beasts are not
Christians." Unfortunately Descartes gave some support to the error in
teaching that man only has a sensitive soul, not the animal.
How much more elevated is our monistic ethics than the Christian in
this regard! Darwinism teaches us that we have descended immediately
from the primates, and, in a secondary degree, from a long series
of earlier mammals, and that, therefore, they are "our brothers";
physiology informs us that they have the same nerves and sense-organs
as we, and the same feelings of pleasure and pain. No sympathetic
monistic scientist would ever be guilty of that brutal treatment of
animals which comes so lightly to the Christian in his anthropistic
illusion--to the "child of the God of love." Moreover, this Christian
contempt of nature on principle deprives man of an abundance of the
highest earthly joys, especially of the keen, ennobling enjoyment of
nature.
IV. Since, according to Christ's teaching, our planet is "a vale of
tears," and our earthly life is valueless and a mere preparation for a
better life to come, it has succeeded in inducing men to sacrifice all
happiness on this side of eternity and make light of all earthly goods.
Among these "earthly goods," in the case of the modern civilized man,
we must include the countless great and small conveniences of technical
science, hygiene, commerce, etc., which have made modern life cheerful
and comfortable; we must include all the gratifications of painting,
sculpture, music, and poetry, which flourished exceedingly even during
the Middle Ages (in spite of its principles), and which we esteem
as "ideal pleasures"; we must include all that invaluable progress
of science, especially the study of nature, of which the nineteenth
century is justly proud. All these "earthly goods," that have so high a
value in the eyes of the monist, are worthless--nay, injurious--for the
most part, according to Christian teaching; the stern code of Christian
morals should look just as unfavorably on the pursuit of these
pleasures as our humanistic ethics fosters and encourages it. Once
more, therefore, Christianity is found to be an enemy to civilization,
and the struggle which modern thought and science are compelled to
conduct with it is, in this additional sense, a "_cultur-kampf_."
V. Another of the most deplorable aspects of Christian morality is
its belittlement of the life of the family, of that natural living
together with our next of kin which is just as necessary in the case
of man as in the case of all the higher social animals. The family
is justly regarded as the "foundation of society," and the healthy
life of the family is a necessary condition of the prosperity of the
State. Christ, however, was of a very different opinion: with his gaze
ever directed to "the beyond," he thought as lightly of woman and the
family as of all other goods of "this life." Of his infrequent contact
with his parents and sisters the gospels have very little to say; but
they are far from representing his relations with his mother to have
been so tender and intimate as they are poetically depicted in so many
thousands of pictures. He was not married himself. Sexual love, the
first foundation of the family union, seems to have been regarded by
Jesus as a necessary evil. His most enthusiastic apostle, Paul, went
still farther in the same direction, declaring it to be better not to
marry than to marry: "It is good for a man not to touch a woman." If
humanity were to follow this excellent counsel, it would soon be rid
of all earthly misery and suffering: it would be killed off by such a
"radical cure" within half a century.
VI. As Christ never knew the love of woman, he had no personal
acquaintance with that refining of man's true nature that comes only
from the intimate life of man with woman. The intimate sexual union, on
which the preservation of the human race depends, is just as important
on that account as the spiritual penetration of the two sexes, or
the mutual complement which they bring to each other in the practical
wants of daily life as well as in the highest ideal functions of the
soul. For man and woman are two different organisms, equal in worth,
each having its characteristic virtues and defects. As civilization
advanced, this ideal value of sexual love was more appreciated, and
woman held in higher honor, especially among the Teutonic races; she
is the inspiring source of the highest achievements of art and poetry.
But Christ was as far from this view as nearly the whole of antiquity;
he shared the idea that prevailed everywhere in the East--that
woman is subordinate to man, and intercourse with her is "unclean."
Long-suffering nature has taken a fearful revenge for this blunder; its
sad consequences are written in letters of blood in the history of the
papal Middle Ages.
The marvellous hierarchy of the Roman Church, that never disdained any
means of strengthening its spiritual despotism, found an exceptionally
powerful instrument in the manipulation of this "unclean" idea, and in
the promotion of the ascetic notion that abstinence from intercourse
with women is a virtue of itself. In the first few centuries after
Christ a number of priests voluntarily abstained from marriage, and
the supposed value of this celibacy soon rose to such a degree that it
was made obligatory. In the Middle Ages the seduction of women of good
repute and of their daughters by Catholic priests (the confessional
was an active agency in the business) was a public scandal: many
communities, in order to prevent such things, pressed for a license
of concubinage to be given to the clergy. And it was done in many,
and sometimes very romantic, ways. Thus, for instance, the canon law
that the priest's cook should not be less than forty years old was
very cleverly "explained" in the sense that the priest might have two
cooks, one in the presbytery, another without; if one was twenty-four
and the other eighteen, that made forty-two together--two years above
the prescribed age. At the Christian councils, at which heretics were
burned alive, the cardinals and bishops sat down with whole troops
of prostitutes. The private and public debauchery of the Catholic
clergy was so scandalous and dangerous to the commonwealth that there
was a general rebellion against it before the time of Luther, and a
loud demand for a "reformation of the church in head and members." It
is well known that these immoral relations still continue in Roman
Catholic lands, although more in secret. Formerly proposals were
made from time to time for the definitive abrogation of celibacy, as
was done, for instance, in the chambers of Baden, Bavaria, Hesse,
Saxony, and other lands; but they have, unfortunately, hitherto proved
unavailing. In the German Reichstag, in which the ultramontane Centre
is now proposing the most ridiculous measures for the suppression of
sexual immorality, there is now no party that will urge the abolition
of celibacy in the interest of public morality. The so-called
"Freethought" Party and the utopian social democracy coquette with the
favor of the Centre.
The modern state that would lift not only the material, but the moral,
life of its people to a higher level is entitled, and indeed bound,
to sweep away such unworthy and harmful conditions. The obligatory
celibacy of the Catholic clergy is as pernicious and immoral as the
practice of auricular confession or the sale of indulgences. All
three have nothing whatever to do with primitive Christianity. All
three are directly opposed to true Christian morality. All three are
disreputable inventions of the papacy, designed for the sole purpose of
strengthening its despotic rule over the credulous masses and making as
much material profit as possible out of them.
The Nemesis of history will sooner or later exact a terrible account
of the Roman papacy, and the millions who have been robbed of their
happiness by this degenerate religion will help to give it its
death-blow in the coming twentieth century--at least, in every truly
civilized state. It has been recently calculated that the number of
men who lost their lives in the papal persecutions of heretics, the
Inquisition, the Christian religious wars, etc., is much more than
ten millions. But what is this in comparison with the tenfold greater
number of the unfortunate _moral_ victims of the institutions and
the priestly domination of the degenerate Christian Church--with the
unnumbered millions whose higher mental life was extinguished, whose
conscience was tortured, whose family life was destroyed, by the
Church? We may with truth apply the words of Goethe in his _Bride of
Corinth_:
"Victims fall, nor lambs nor bulls,
But human victims numberless."
In the great _cultur-kampf_, which must go on as long as these sad
conditions exist, the first aim must be the absolute separation of
Church and State. There shall be "a free Church in a free State"--that
is, every Church shall be free in the practice of its special worship
and ceremonies, and in the construction of its fantastic poetry and
superstitious dogmas--with the sole condition that they contain no
danger to social order or morality. Then there will be equal rights
for all. Free societies and monistic religious bodies shall be equally
tolerated, and just as free in their movements as Liberal Protestant
and orthodox ultramontane congregations. But for all these "faithful"
of the most diverse sects religion will have to be a private concern.
The state shall supervise them, and prevent excesses; but it must
neither oppress nor support them. Above all, the ratepayers shall not
be compelled to contribute to the support and spread of a "faith" which
they honestly believe to be a harmful superstition. In the United
States such a complete separation of Church and State has been long
accomplished, greatly to the satisfaction of all parties. They have
also the equally important separation of the Church from the school;
that is, undoubtedly, a powerful element in the great advance which
science and culture have recently made in America.
It goes without saying that this exclusion of the Church from the
school only refers to its sectarian principles, the particular form
of belief which each Church has evolved in the course of its life.
This sectarian education is purely a private concern, and should be
left to parents and tutors, or to such priests or teachers as may
have the personal confidence of the parents. Instead of the rejected
sectarian instruction, two important branches of education will be
introduced--monistic or humanist ethics and comparative religion.
During the last thirty years an extensive literature has appeared
dealing with the new system of ethics which has been raised on the
basis of modern science--especially evolutionary science. Comparative
religion will be a natural companion to the actual elementary
instruction in "biblical history" and in the mythology of Greece and
Rome. Both of these will remain in the curriculum. The reason for
that is obvious enough; the whole of our painting and sculpture, the
chief branches of monistic æsthetics, are intimately blended with
the Christian, Greek, and Roman mythologies. There will only be this
important difference--that the Christian myths and legends will not
be taught as truths, but as poetic fancies, like the Greek and Roman
myths; the high value of the ethical and æsthetical material they
contain will not be lessened, but increased, by this means. As regards
the Bible, the "book of books" will only be given to the children in
carefully selected extracts (a sort of "school Bible"); in this way we
shall avoid the besmirching of the child's imagination with the unclean
stories and passages which are so numerous in the Old Testament.
Once the modern State has freed itself and its schools from the
fetters of the Church, it will be able to devote more attention to the
improvement of education. The incalculable value of a good system of
education has forced itself more and more upon us as the many aspects
of modern civilized life have been enlarged and enriched in the
course of the century. But the development of the educational methods
has by no means kept pace with life in general. The necessity for a
comprehensive reform of our schools is making itself felt more and
more. On this question, too, a number of valuable works have appeared
in the course of the last forty years. We shall restrict ourselves to
making a few general observations which we think of special importance.
1. In all education up to the present time _man_ has played the chief
part, and especially the grammatical study of his language; the study
of _nature_ was entirely neglected.
2. In the school of the future nature will be the chief object of the
study; a man shall learn a correct view of the world he lives in; he
will not be made to stand outside of and opposed to nature, but be
represented as its highest and noblest product.
3. The study of the classical tongues (Latin and Greek), which has
hitherto absorbed most of the pupils' time and energy, is indeed
valuable; but it will be much restricted, and confined to the mere
elements (obligatory for Latin, optional for Greek).
4. In consequence, modern languages must be all the more cultivated in
all the higher schools (English and French to be obligatory, Italian
optional).
5. Historical instruction must pay more attention to the inner
mental and spiritual life of a nation, and to the development of its
civilization, and less to its external history (the vicissitudes of
dynasties, wars, and so forth).
6. The elements of evolutionary science must be learned in conjunction
with cosmology, geology must go with geography, and anthropology with
biology.
7. The first principles of biology must be familiar to every educated
man; the modern training in observation furnishes an attractive
introduction to the biological sciences (anthropology, zoology, and
botany). A start must be made with descriptive system (in conjunction
with ætiology or bionomy); the elements of anatomy and physiology to be
added later on.
8. The first principles of physics and chemistry must also be taught,
and their exact establishment with the aid of mathematics.
9. Every pupil must be taught to draw well, and from nature; and,
wherever it is possible, the use of water-colors. The execution of
drawings and of water-color sketches from nature (of flowers, animals,
landscapes, clouds, etc.) not only excites interest in nature and helps
memory to enjoy objects, but it gives the pupil his first lesson in
_seeing_ correctly and understanding what he has seen.
10. Much more care and time must be devoted than has been done hitherto
to corporal exercise, to gymnastics and swimming; but it is especially
important to have walks in common every week, and journeys on foot
during the holidays. The lesson in observation which they obtain in
this way is invaluable.
The chief aim of higher education up to the present time, in most
countries, has been a preparation for the subsequent profession, and
the acquisition of a certain amount of information and direction
for civic duties. The school of the twentieth century will have for
its main object the formation of independent thought, the clear
understanding of the knowledge acquired, and an insight into the
natural connection of phenomena. If the modern state gives every
citizen a vote, it should also give him the means of developing his
reason by a proper education, in order to make a rational use of his
vote for the commonweal.