A Review of the Systems of Ethics Founded on the Theory of Evolution Part 14

Conscience is not infallible in its application of the objective principle; a wider experience may show it to have erred. Conscience is highest authority, but still an authority which may continually perfect itself. The objective principle makes possible the mutual correction of different consciences and the self-correction of the conscience of the individual through self-judgment.

The difference between Subjective Ethics and Objective Ethics, as here explained, does not coincide with the difference between Individual Ethics and Social Ethics. Objective Ethics includes both the latter, since it recognizes individual peculiarities. It has yet to be decided whether, within the bounds of Objective Ethics, Individual Ethics and Social Ethics are dependent upon each other, or whether one, and if one then which one, determines the other. It has to be decided whether, according to the principle of welfare, the free self-development of the individual is to be limited by the conditions of social life, or _vice versa_. Within the limits of Objective Ethics, there may arise an Individualism of another sort than that before mentioned, founded, not upon the sovereignty of the individual, but upon the principle of welfare, which demands as many independent and peculiar points of departure for action as possible. The like is true, also, of the question of smaller organizations within larger ones.

The history of Ethics shows us that the ethical judgment of actions at first regarded the outer act itself and its results, but was gradually extended to include the motive, the disposition, the character of the acting subject. It is perfectly natural that regard should first be attracted to that which is the object of sense-perception. Moreover, action at an earlier stage of development is essentially reflex action, and the expression of instinct; the motives are simple and transparent, and interest does not linger long with them. The great revolutions in Ethics appear as essentially progress with regard to the importance accorded, in ethical judgment, to the inner factors of action. This greater inwardness is combined with a generalization; for the rejection of a motive is the rejection of all action occasioned by it, and the ethical acceptance of a motive the acceptance of all action springing from it. Hence the transference of regard to inner conditions represents a great simplification of the ethical law. Examples of such a transference may be found in the rupture between Christianity and Judaism, and between Protestantism and Catholicism.

In this way, too, Objective Ethics leads to Subjective Ethics. The objective judgment not only presupposes a subjective basis, but also finds some of its best objects in actions which spring from the same mental const.i.tution which is the basis of the judgment. Here, the basis of mental const.i.tution and the motive coincide; the ethical law demands the existence of the moral disposition by which it itself exists in the species. This Kant expresses in the a.s.sertion that it is a duty to possess conscience. Since the recognition of duties presupposes the existence of conscience, it might seem as if here were an argument in a circle. But that this is an illusion may be seen from the fact that the basis of ethical judgment and the motive do not necessarily coincide and that it is not necessarily an imperfection when they do not coincide. It may be necessary in some cases, in accordance with the principle of welfare, that other motives than the sense of duty shall guide the action; it may be necessary and healthful, for example, that in some cases man should be led by the instinct of self-preservation, or by an immediate sympathy, to labor for the welfare of others, and that conscience should not be aroused in every single act. It may even be a sign of perfection when actions that demand exertion and sacrifice are carried out without the intervention of a sense of duty. Indeed, mental drill in the end renders that which at first took place by means of a long psychological process of reflection and will, direct and without special consciousness of its reason.

All Ethics is practical Idealism. All systems a.s.sume an end, and an end is not anything at present existing, but something which ought to be.

All systems a.s.sume, therefore, strong feeling, impulse, and endeavor, combined with the image of that which is the object of the endeavor. But the ideal must have points of contact with actuality, so that at least an approach to it is practicable; it must be physically, psychologically, and historically possible.

Ethical ideals deviate from the actual in three ways. In the first place, there is often in actual willing and doing something directly opposed to the principle of welfare. In this case, the office of Ethics is to restrain and forbid. To this function corresponds, in the practical life of the will, the hemming by which involuntary, original, or acquired impulses and inclinations are repressed. Again, actual willing and doing often exhibit only a weak and imperfect realization of that which Ethics demands. Here there must be an increase in the degree as well as in the extent of the realization. To this corresponds, in the practical life of the will, effort and attention, the power of the will, through its influence upon conceptions and feelings, to react upon itself. And finally, there may be, in willing and doing, a lack of unity and harmony; various opposed tendencies and impulses may make themselves felt. Here a process of harmonizing and concentration is necessary. And to this corresponds, in the practical life of the will, a drilling in connected action and trains of thought, and in the power to make an end of reflection by decision. In all three cases, the principle of welfare is to be followed; and the three processes are to be applied not only in the development of the individual but also in that of societies, and of the species.

That which manifests itself in conscience is a species-instinct. In the feeling of judgment, the relation between central and peripheral factors finds expression, neither of which, and least of all the central factors, are developed by individual experience, but both of which are, on the contrary, the product of the experience of the species. What Kant called the Categorical Imperative is, in fact, an instinct; and every instinct speaks unconditionally, categorically, gives no reasons and admits of no excuse.

No instinct finds expression without the existence of conditions which call it forth; but all manner of individual and social circ.u.mstances may furnish such conditions.

When conscience begins to be conscious of its office, it manifests itself as an Impulse.[77] The thought of actions which the instinctive judgment has recognized, or to the performance of which it has perhaps incited, is combined with pleasure, the conception of actions of the opposite nature with pain. The tendency arises to linger with the former and to repeat them, and to turn from the latter, if no stronger impulses of another sort make themselves felt.

Conscience may develop, without losing entirely its instinctive or impulsive character, to practical reason. This takes place through the development of the conceptions which determine the conscience as impulse, to greater clearness and distinctness. When conscience acts as instinct, the individual does not know what he does. If it acts as impulse, he has a dawning consciousness of his acts. And when it becomes practical reason, there arises a clear consciousness of ethical laws and ethical ideals. In different individuals, conscience may appear in very different forms and degrees, as instinct, impulse, practical reason, sense of duty, sense of justice. Sometimes it appears as mainly negative and restraining, sometimes again as chiefly positive, partly harmonizing and partly increasing. Here it appears as enthusiastic devotion, there as quiet and continuous tendency. It would be impossible to name even the princ.i.p.al forms in which it may manifest itself, but it is of great importance to call attention to the fact of these individual differences, since we suffer at present from a dogmatism that has but one measure for all these different manifestations.

We must go a step farther still. There may be men who possess no strictly ethical feeling and who do not need it. Such men do what they can with their whole heart without applying any reflective standard to their own or others' acts. They entirely absorb themselves with unflagging zeal in a work that perfectly corresponds to their capabilities and impulses, without any doubt of its rightfulness and import. They may devote themselves to art and science, to the service of society, or to their family. Or they belong to the cla.s.s of happy natures who spread light and joy by their mere existence. They act in accordance with the law, without being in possession of the law, and what objection can Ethics have to offer to this? Ethics is for the sake of life, not life for the sake of Ethics.

Since all ethical judgments have conscience for their psychological basis, conscience is highest authority, highest law-giver, in comparison with which every other authority is subordinate and derived. To wish to go beyond one's conscience is to wish to go beyond oneself. When I yield to another human being whose judgment I trust more than my own, this can be justified only as it takes place through my conscience. Conscience is infallible, if one understands by infallibility that it is, at every instant, the highest judge; this infallibility does not mean, however, that it does not err. Every earnest conviction takes the form of conscience; the truth is not, however, secured by the mere form. Was it not from conviction that Aristotle a.s.serted the right of slavery, and Calvin, with Melancthon's approval, sent Servetus to the stake?

Not less dogmatic than Fichte's a.s.sertion that conscience never deceives us, is the view which regards a system of Ethics as merely the science of the forms of society and of outward acts, and thus declares conscience to be without authority in comparison with outer circ.u.mstances and their demands. The law which we obey must always express itself in the form of conscience. The light which illumines for us all other things must be within ourselves.

Here we perceive the possibility of a conflict between Subjective Ethics and Objective Ethics, between the two principles upon which Ethics is founded. There can be no other solution to the problem than that we shall follow the command of conscience, provided it speaks clearly and after sufficient deliberation. It may be added that conscience can correct and control itself, the later and more experienced conscience criticising the earlier. As long as the individual acts according to his best conviction, he is morally healthy; hence, from an ethical point of view, a pernicious action carried out under the conviction that it is good is to be preferred to a good action performed with the conviction that it is bad. In the former case, the spring is pure; in the latter it is corrupt. Only he who has courage to make mistakes can accomplish anything great. It is not the cold and narrow, but those who are zealous for the true and good, who thus err.

The power of self-correction can be developed only when some definite principle or criterion may be found. Such a principle is that of welfare. The problem of the application of this principle to action is, however, like that of the application of the principle of causality to actual phenomena, an endless one.

In close relation to the concept of Authority stands that of Sanction.

The Authority commands or forbids, the Sanction enables the command or prohibition to remain in force. The sanction consists in the pain or pleasure connected with the observation or transgression of the command, in the reward or punishment which one brings on oneself through one's action, in the heaven or h.e.l.l which one approaches by the action. It is only, however, when the authority itself is an outward one that the sanction holds this outward relation to the action. In this outward form it has no immediate ethical significance. The ethical character of an action is dependent, in subjective regard, on its origin in the intention of the performer, in objective regard, on its harmony with the principle of welfare. What ethical significance could it have that here a feeling of pain or pleasure not arising from the action itself, is added to it? The outer sanction of reward and punishment is thus but an educating sanction. The inner sanction consists in a feeling of harmony and unity with one's own highest convictions, of consistency between one's ideas and one's actual willing. Thus arises an inner peace that may be stronger than all contradiction and opposition from without.

Such an inner sanction is not only an effect of the action, but a feeling already present before the action. It was the preservation and full development of this feeling that led to the decision and made it possible. Blessedness, says Spinoza, is not the reward of virtue, but virtue itself.

The manner in which the ethical is so often made dependent upon certain fixed religious or speculative a.s.sumptions must be, from an ethical point of view, matter for great solicitude. In the first place, it is easy to suppose that the man who no longer respects these dogmas may have emanc.i.p.ated himself also from the ethical maxims dependent upon them, and would be most consistent if he acted in accordance with the principle: "Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die." In the second place, action is reft of its ethical character when the attention is directed to things outside its essence and origin, and considerations of reward and punishment are declared to be a necessary motive. Not even a belief in progress within the world of experience can have any absolute worth for Ethics. It may be theoretically difficult to maintain such a belief; and even if the victorious direction of evolution were shown to be unfavorable to Ethics, ethical principles would not be destroyed.

Simply the problems would be different; pity and resignation would acquire greater importance. Wherever the ethical disposition were present, it would take the side of the conquered and remain upon that side though the G.o.ds themselves were with the conquerors. Ethical worth does not depend upon mere might.

The birth-hour of conscience is the time when, through the difference between ideal and actuality, a certain feeling arises. Its death-hour would be the instant in which the difference forever disappeared. Such a disappearance might occur in two ways, either through the conquest of the ideal by actuality or through that of actuality by the ideal. The objection has been made to the theory of evolution that it fulfilled the first of these possibilities, and so left no room for Ethics. But the very fact of the existence of ethical impulses as the actual result of evolution would seem to belie this theory. And indeed, we see that evolution is not physical growth alone, but mental as well; and that the important feature of man's development consists in his aspiration through desires and impulses, which act as moving forces in his life.

Aspiration is necessary to his evolution, and indifference and lack of sensibility an obstacle to it. The theory of evolution leads directly to Ethics, in that it shows that the struggle for existence becomes, in its higher forms, a common struggle for the continuance and development of human life. The theory of evolution takes us, indeed, not only to, but beyond, Ethics; for, according to Spencer, the ethical sense is but an intermediate condition in a development toward a state of "organic morality," where right-doing will be involuntary and natural, and a special ethical sense no longer existent or necessary. Such a state would const.i.tute the realization of the second alternative mentioned above, with which Ethics would come to an end. This state is conceivable, and Ethics could have no objection to offer to it. Yet we are still far from such a condition, and though we may strengthen our courage and hope with the thought of a continual progress of human nature, yet the a.s.sumption of such an end to evolution cannot have an essential influence upon the method of Ethics.

We must, in fact, suppose that progress will bring us new problems and new ideals, that, as the Ethics of the civilized man includes whole provinces unknown to the savage, so many relations will certainly present themselves in the future whose ethical significance our present thick-skinned condition, our ignorance and egoism, prevent us from comprehending.

Can one do more than one's duty? From the standpoint of ethical systems which are founded on authority or any outward principle, this question may be answered in the affirmative. The Roman Catholic Church distinguishes, for instance, between that which is commanded and that which, beyond the command, is merely advised. But he who follows an inward sanction cannot but feel that he has done no more than his duty when he has done all that lies in his power for the welfare of mankind.

It may be right, from a pedagogical standpoint, to give especial praise to actions that tower above the usual; he who performs them, however, only then possesses the right spirit when he feels that he has done no more than his duty, and could not have done otherwise. Even from a pedagogical standpoint, the difference between duty and merely counselled action, beyond the duty commanded, can be only a relative one; that which is, upon a lower plane of development, merely advised, becomes, upon a higher plane, one of the most elementary duties; mercy to the conquered may be a high virtue in a savage, but to the civilized man it is a primary rule of morals.

It is of the highest importance to keep in mind the fact that conscience itself is a cause, and that ethical judgment, arising as a feeling, takes part, by its influence upon the will, in the ethical evolution towards highest welfare. Keeping this in mind, it is easy to see that Ethics not only calls for no limitation of the law of Causality, but that such a limitation would be pernicious, even destructive, to Ethics.

There are at least six different significations in which the expression "freedom of the will" may be used.

It may be used to denote absence of outward constraint; but this might rather be called a freedom of action than a freedom of the will.

It may be used to denote absence of inner constraint; the will which springs from pain or fear is often called unfree in distinction from the will which springs from pleasure or hope.

It may refer to energy and vitality of the will. Here the stress is laid upon the amount which the will can accomplish, not, however, upon its independence of causes. One can be a determinist and yet concede that the will plays an important part in the world; or one can be an indeterminist and yet a.s.sume that free will plays but a small part in the world.

By freedom of the will is often meant the power of choice. This freedom is not opposed, however, to causality, but to blindness of action, subjection to momentary impulses. "Free will" denotes, in this case, self-conscious will.

Or the word "freedom" may refer to the will as ruled by ethical motives.

In this sense, only the good man is free. This significance of the word is the oldest, comes down to us from Socrates, and is used by Augustine, Spinoza, and many others.

But the sense of the word "freedom" with which the strife between Determinism and Indeterminism has to do is that in accordance with which a free will is not subject to the law of Causality, is not, like other phenomena, a link in the chain of causes, but is, on the contrary, a cause, without being an effect. To be free in will is, according to this definition, to will without cause,--independent of all that has gone before.

Indeterminism destroys the bond between the individual and his kind, between the individual and the rest of existence. Indeterminism is hence unable to regard existence as a totality. Every deeper philosophical or religious conception becomes, thus, impossible; the only religious conception consistent with Indeterminism is Polytheism, since every being that can form the absolute beginning of a chain of causes is a little G.o.d, an absolute being. This fact is to be noted, for the reason that Determinism is sometimes designated as a G.o.dless doctrine.

The a.s.sertion that the will is without cause, and the a.s.sertion that we ourselves are the cause of our willing, are two different a.s.sertions.

The last finds a cause in our nature. Thoughts and feelings, tendencies, instincts, and impulses arise in us, and in these the origin of the acts of the will is to be sought.

If the will, or a part of it, is not subject to the law of Causality, it stands in relation to the whole personality as something isolated and accidental. The Indeterminist who a.s.serts that Determinism makes man a mere machine, himself makes of him something much meaner, something incoherent and accidental. Ethical judgment is based upon the a.s.sumption that my action is mine; it is, therefore, clear and certain only when motives and the decision they cause are known. The less my actions can be understood by knowledge of my character, the more easily I may be regarded as irresponsible. Although law regards, by its nature, action and not motive, yet even the judge must gain an insight into the motives, the outer and inner relations from which the deed originated, both in order to determine the degree of punishment necessary, and in order even to be fully persuaded that the action really took place.

Many recent Indeterminists designate the freedom of the will as exceedingly small. They thus extend the dissolution of the unity of existence and of the unity of personality to the act of willing itself.

Moreover, if responsibility depends upon freedom, it is impossible to see how reward and punishment are to be justified upon this standpoint; since the individual can say with reason that he is not guilty with respect to the whole, but only with respect to a very small part of his act.

The words Responsibility, Guilt, Accountability, are taken, like so many other ethical expressions, from Jurisprudence, or rather they come to us from a time when the distinction between the province of Jurisprudence and that of Ethics had not yet been recognized. That I am made accountable for my action means that I stand as the one to whom reward or punishment for the deed is meted out. _For what reason_ the action is rewarded or punished is a question by itself.

In relation to Ethics, the feeling of guilt, of responsibility or accountability, signifies that my act is subjected to the judgment of conscience. If I find discord between my act and that which I recognize as good, remorse arises,--a feeling of inner disharmony, unworthiness, and self-contempt which may increase until it becomes the greatest psychical pain. This feeling may be defined, from a deterministic standpoint, as dissatisfaction with oneself because one has not acted otherwise, and the wish that one had done so. This wish arises in the moment of reflection, when one weighs one's act. From the present wish is not, however, to be concluded that one could just as well have acted otherwise _at the moment the act took place_. Such an illusion dates the experience dearly bought with mistake and remorse back to an earlier period. According to the theory of retribution, remorse must be greatest in him who has committed the greatest crime. This is not so, however; since remorse arises from a contrast between ideal and act, which contrast can take place only when the conception of the ideal is strong; the purest and best characters often have the strongest feelings of remorse.

Remorse first arises when a new att.i.tude of mind is attained different from that which ruled at the time of the action. Time is necessary for this new feeling to replace the old, if it is to be more than a momentary pa.s.sion, and during this interval the two feelings are both active in consciousness. This is the time of the birth-pains by which the new character comes into being. The significance of remorse lies in the fact that it urges forward, that it gives birth to impulse and endeavor after a higher plane. Only because remorse is a _motive_, is it of ethical nature.

If the law of Causality were not active in the realm of the psychical, this ethical endeavor would be hopeless. Only where order reigns can the will accomplish anything. Only as we know the law of outer nature, and know what conditions must be produced in order to bring about a certain result, can we serve our own ends in this province; and the like is true in our relation to human nature. Here the problem is to find motives of the right sort and of sufficient strength. Of what use were all possible exertion if, under given conditions, the same motive were followed by now this, now the other entirely different decision. I am master of my future willing only in so far as a causal relation exists between my present and my future will. We find, therefore, that the reason why responsibility goes no further back in the causal chain than the will, is this: that it is the will which is to be acted on and altered. That which precedes the act of the will interests us, ethically, only in so far as it influences the will.

It is a strange a.s.sertion, sometimes made, that the consistent Determinist must be a mere spectator of his own and others' lives. As if one could feel no pain or pleasure and no desire to interfere, because one believes life to be subject to law. It is true that theoretical study may weaken practical interest; but Indeterminism is a theory as well as Determinism.

What the ethically bad is follows from what has already been said. It consists of a more or less conscious isolation of the single moment in the life of the individual, or of the single individual in the life of the species, such that not only a hindrance to the welfare of individual or species arises, but also a relaxation of energy and a diminution of the coherence of individual or species. In most such cases, inertia is at work. The one moment demands to be lived without any consideration of others, the individual will not move outside the circle of his own interests. Such a resistance to influence may be unconscious. It may be authorized in so far as it is a condition of the development of real willing that action shall not immediately respond to impression. In this resistance lies, therefore, the germ of the ethical as well as the non-ethical life of the will. The clearer consciousness becomes, the more this inertia takes on the character of defiance. Or the discord felt through consciousness of the good may be so painful that the individual desires to free himself at any price. In this case, no remorse is felt; on the contrary, the individual seeks to dull the awakened consciousness, or to get rid of it.

It is important to note that conceptions develop, in this connection, faster than feelings. And as long as the former do not find points of connection with the existing feelings, they will have no practical influence. The bad consists in the persistence, from inertia or defiance, upon a lower plane of development after the consciousness of a higher has arisen. Evil is the animal in man, the remains of an earlier plane of life. From the instincts of self-preservation and self-propagation in their most primitive forms, the ethically bad is produced, and offers fierce resistance to harmonizing influences.

Evil is, furthermore, a sociological phenomenon; the general psychological elements take on different forms under different historical conditions; society, in its different forms and functions, is always one of the determining factors of its development. The criminal is, like the saint, the child of his time.

It appears, therefore, that the term "bad" is applied from a standpoint not shared by him to whom it is applied. If the man who stands upon the lower plane of morals possessed the full and clear consciousness that the predicate of badness applied to his conduct, the corresponding feelings and impulses must arise in him, and his conduct be altered. It is psychologically impossible to act against our fixed and full conviction, if this is not blunted by other impulses.

The definition of the good must be, on different ethical planes, a different one. But when a disinterested and universal sympathy determines the ethical judgment, only that can be good which preserves and adds to the welfare of conscious beings, increases their pleasure or diminishes their pain. Every action which tends in this direction without producing further results of an opposite nature, is authorized; every action of which the opposite is true is to be rejected.

Since, in general, pleasure is connected with the healthy and natural use of the powers, with that which preserves and benefits life, and pain is connected with the opposite of this, Ethics merely continues the work begun by nature, in aiming at human progress, at as rich and harmonious a development of human powers as is possible. The problems of Ethics concern, therefore, the pleasures of the moment as well as those of the whole life, the pleasures of the individual as well as those of the whole species. This remains true even if we accept the pessimistic view that all life is pain; the good would consist, from this point of view, in as great alleviation of pain as possible. Even the ascetic tortures himself only in order to gain greater good.

The ethical end as welfare is not to be conceived as a state of continuance on the same plane. Such a continuance is impossible; evolution does not stand still; every step of progress creates new needs, the satisfaction of which again demands endeavor; perfect satisfaction is impossible. Even the development of sympathy makes it easier to wound us in many ways and brings us larger duties. The need of variety alone would make continuance upon one plane impossible; we labor not only in order to arrive at conscious ends, but also in order to relieve ourselves of acc.u.mulated energy. The highest end that we can conceive is a progress in which each step is felt as a good because it affords scope for action without over-exertion.

Activity is also welfare. But it is so only in so far as it is healthful activity; when the powers are over-exerted or dissipated in action, having no common end, or when their application in one direction is at the cost of other more important directions, progress ceases to be welfare. The evolution of civilization contains an element of blindness and heedlessness which is bound up with both its excellencies and its faults. But civilization is not an act of choice; it is the continuance of the evolution of nature. Progress is necessary; it is impossible to remain upon any level attained. Ethics must, therefore, accept progress as a fact. It does not feel an admiration for an order of nature in which no advance appears possible without one-sidedness and dissipation of energy. It is not so hard-hearted that it could forget, in the seeming splendor of outward results, the anxiety and pain, the sweat and blood, with which these were won. It demands, therefore, that the heavy burdens be lightened, the scattered forces united, and all capabilities that are of worth developed. On the other hand, Ethics is not so sentimental and short-sighted that it could forget that progress can take place only through exertion and suffering. Its chief task with regard to progress is to impress upon the mind the fact that life should not be made a mere means to the solution of impersonal problems.