Books: A Handbook of Ethical Theory

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To Nature, properly understood, we can enter no objection. Who objects to
Perfection as a "counsel of perfection?" Can the Social Will object to a
man's striving to Realize his Capacities--under proper control, and with
a regard to others? The Pessimist is an unhealthy creature, and the
Social Will represents normal and healthy humanity. Here we have
disparity. But to Evolution our doctrine offers no opposition. It is only
by a process of development that the Actual Social Will has come to be
what it is; and the Rational Social Will looks to a further development
under the guidance of reason.

The fact is that thoughtful men belonging to different schools tend to
introduce into their statement of their doctrines modifying clauses; and
in the end we find them not as far apart as they seemed at the beginning.
The tendency is, I think, in the direction of the recognition of the
Rational Social Will. This doctrine belongs to nobody in particular; it
is the. common property of us all. It contains little that is startling.

140. ITS METHOD OF APPROACH TO PROBLEMS.---He who looks to the Rational
Social Will for guidance is given a compass which may be of no small
service to him. For example:

(1) He will see that moral phenomena are not to be isolated. He will
accept the historic order of society and judge man and his emotions and
actions in the light of it. He will never feel tempted to say, with
Bentham, that the pleasure which has its roots in malice, envy, cruelty,
"taken by itself, is good." [Footnote: _Principles of Morals and
Legislation,_ chapter x, Sec 10, note.]

He will simply say, it is pleasure. That it is, of course; but he will
maintain that nothing "taken by itself" is either good or bad, from the
moralist's point of view. The cruel man may will to see suffering, and
may enjoy it. The moral man may hold that the cruel man, his act of will,
and his pleasure, should all be snuffed out, in the interest of humanity,
as an unmitigated evil.

(2) The advocate of the Rational Social Will recognizes, as do many
adherents of other schools, that the social will, as expressed at any
given time, is only relatively rational; that men must live in their own
day and generation, although they can, to some degree, reach beyond them;
and that some differences of opinion as to the relative values of
virtues, and the goodness of characters, are to be expected.

(3) Furthermore, he is in a position to explain how a man may be
"subjectively" right and yet "objectively" wrong. The man's character may
be such that it is, on the whole, to be approved by the Rational Social
Will. He may be animated by the desire to adjust himself to that will.
And yet, the accident of ignorance, the accident of prejudice not
recognized by himself as such, may lead him to do what he thinks right
and what those more enlightened recognize to be wrong.

141. ITS SOLUTION OF CERTAIN DIFFICULTIES.--Perhaps it would be better
for me to give this section a heading more nearly like the last. I aim
only to give the reader a point of view from which he can approach the
problem of a solution.

Take the problem which has come up before in the form of the distribution
of pleasures. [Footnote: See Sec 109.] He who dwells, not so much upon
pleasure, as upon the satisfaction of desire and will, must state it
differently, but the problem is much the same. What degree of recognition
should be given to the will of each individual, or to the separate
volitions and desires in the life of the individual? Should everybody
count for one? Should every desire or group of desires receive
recognition? Is no distinction to be made in the intensity of desires?
And how many individuals shall we include in our reckoning?

Light seems to be shed upon this complicated problem or set of problems
when we hold clearly before ourselves what the task of reason is in
regulating the life of man individually and collectively. Its function is
to bring order out of chaos and strife; to substitute harmony and
planfulness for accident; to introduce long views in the place of
momentary impulses; to prevent the barter of permanent good for a mess of
pottage.

Reason must accept the impulses and instincts of man as it finds them,
and do what it can with them. It cannot ignore them. Slowly,
civilizations, to some degree rational, have come into being. In so far
as they are rational, they are justified. Keeping all this in view we may
say, tentatively:

(a) The principle, "everybody to count for one, and nobody for more than
one," must be interpreted as an expression of the conviction that no will
should be _needlessly_ sacrificed.

Reason is bodiless, except as incorporated in human societies, and these
must have their historic development. Can we do away with the special
claims of family, of neighborhood, of the state? They have their place in
the historic rational order. But the whispered "everybody to count for
one" may help us to realize that such special claims cannot take the
place of all others.

(b) Shall a deliberate attempt be made to enlarge the circle of those who
are to share in the social will, not merely by diminishing the number of
deaths, but by promoting the number of births? States have attempted it
often enough. I can only say that, if this be attempted, it should not be
attempted in ways that ignore the historical development of society, with
its social and moral traditions.

(c) Why not justify our attitude toward the brutes by maintaining that
they have, theoretically, rights to recognition, in so far as such
recognition does not interfere with the rights of man in the rational
social order? The brutes outnumber us, to be sure. We are in a hopeless
minority. But were this minority sacrificed, there would be no rational
social order at all--no right, no wrong; nothing but the clash of wills
or impulses which reason now strives to harmonize as it can. [Footnote:
See chapter xxi]

(d) When we turn to the problem of the distribution of satisfactions in
the life of the individual, we find ready to hand a variety of unwise
saws--"A short life and a merry one," and the like.

How should the individual choose his satisfactions? Merely from the
standpoint of the individual? What is _desirable_? Not _desired_,
by this man or by that, but _desirable, reasonable_?

It is an open secret that the house of mirth lacks every convenience
demanded of a permanent residence, and that those who breathlessly pursue
pleasure are seldom pleased. Nor do men, when they stop to think, want
their lives to be very short.

And, in any case, this question of the distribution of satisfactions in
the life of the individual does not concern the individual alone. Is the
man who wants a short life and a merry one an "undesirable" from the
standpoint of the Rational Social Will? Then he should be suppressed. The
manner of distribution of even his own personal satisfactions is not his
affair exclusively. Every ordered society has its notions touching the
type of man which suits its ends.

(e) But shall we, in making up our minds about the "satisfaction on the
whole" which busies the rational individual or the rational community,
take no account at all of the intensity of pleasures and of pains, the
eagerness with which some things are desired and the feebleness of the
impulsion toward others? May not the intense thrill of a moment more than
counterbalance "four lukewarm hours?" Are we not, if we take such things
into consideration, back again face to face with something very like the
calculus of pleasures--that bugbear of the egoist and of the utilitarian?

It would be foolish to maintain that man, either individually or
collectively, places all desires upon the same level. No man of sense
holds that every desire should count as one. On the other hand, no man of
sense pretends to have any accurate unit of measurement by which he can
make unerring estimates of desirability.

Fortunately, he is not compelled to fall back upon such a unit. Even if
he was born yesterday, the race was not. He is born into a system of
values expressed in social organization and social institutions. It is
the resultant of innumerable expressions of preference on the part of
innumerable men. It is a general guide to what, on the whole, man wants.

It is, then, foolish for him to raise such questions as, whether it is
not better to aim at intense happiness on the part of the few, to the
utter ignoring of the mass of mankind. Such questions the Rational Social
Will has already answered in the negative.

142. THE CULTIVATION OF OUR CAPACITIES.--Finally, we may approach the
question whether it is reasonable to awake dormant desires, to call into
being new needs; which, satisfied, may be recognized as a good, but
which, unsatisfied, may result in unhappiness. [Footnote: Compare chapter
xxi, Sec 86.]

A little cup may be filled with what leaves a big one half empty. It is
easy to find grounds upon which to congratulate the "average" man. All
the world caters to him--ready-made clothing is measured to fit his
figure, and it is sold cheap; the average restaurant consults his taste
and his pocket; the average woman just suits him as a help-mate; he is
much at home with his neighbors, most of whom diverge little from the
average. Why strive to rise above the average--and fall into a divine
discontent?

May one not say much the same of a community? Why should it strive to
attain to new conquests, to awaken in its members new wants and strain to
satisfy them? Does it seem self-evident that it is reasonable, in
general, to multiply desires with no guarantee of their satisfaction?

I know no way of approaching the solution of this problem save from the
standpoint of the Rational Social Will. We are confronted with the
general problem of the desirability of civilization, with all that that
implies. The life of man in some rather primitive societies has seemed in
certain respects rather idyllic. The eating of the fruit of the tree, and
the consequent opening of the eyes, has, time and again, seemed to result
in disaster.

But was the idyllic life not an accidental thing, due to a fortuitous
combination of circumstances, rather than to man's intelligent control of
a larger environment? Civilization of some sort seems inevitable. Have we
any other guarantee that we can make it, in the long run, rational, than
a many-sided development of man's capacities? And must we not exercise a
broad faith in the value of enlightenment, increase of knowledge,
farsightedness, the cultivation of complex emotions, even at the risk of
some waste of effort and some suffering to certain individuals?

Perhaps this is as good a place as any to say a word about the
significance of the terms "higher" and "lower," when used in a moral
sense. We have seen that John Stuart Mill made much of the distinction in
his utilitarianism. Bentham appears to sin against the enlightened moral
judgment in holding that, quantities of pleasure being the same, "push-
pin is as good as poetry."

When we realize that the worth of things may be determined from the
standpoint of the Rational Social Will, we can easily understand that
some occupations and their accompanying pleasures should be rated higher
than others, however satisfactory the latter may seem to certain
individuals. It is not unreasonable to rate the pleasure of scientific
discovery as higher than the pleasure of swallowing an oyster; and that,
without following Bentham in falling back upon a quantitative standard,
or following Mill in maintaining that pleasures, as pleasures, differ in
kind. [Footnote: See chapter xxv, Sec 107.]

CHAPTER XXXI

THE MORAL LAW AND MORAL IDEALS

143. DUTIES AND VIRTUES.--We saw, at the very beginning of this volume
[Footnote: Chapter i, Sec 2.] that a single moral law, so abstractly stated
as to cover the whole sphere of conduct, must be something so vague and
indeterminate as to be practically useless as a guide to action. The
admonition, "do right," does not mean anything in particular to the man
who is not already well instructed as to what, in detail, constitutes
right action. Nor do we make ourselves more intelligible, when we say to
him "be good."

It seems to mean something more when we say "act justly" or "be just";
"speak the truth," or "be truthful." And the more we particularize, the
more we help the individual confronted with concrete problems--the only
problems with which life actually confronts us.

This is as it should be. Duties and virtues are expressions of the
Rational Social Will, and that will is a mere abstraction except as it is
incorporated, with a wealth of detail, in human societies. It would be
hard for the small boy to classify, under any ten commandments, the
innumerable company of the "don'ts" which he hears from his mother during
the course of a week. He can leave such work to the moralist. But he is
receiving an education in the moral law, as an expression of the social
will, through the whole seven days.

If we wish, we can emphasize the _moral law_, and dwell upon the
_duties_ of man. On the other hand, we may lay stress upon the
_virtues_, and point to _ideals_. The Greek made much of the
virtues; the Christian moralist had more to say of man's duties. In the
end, there need be little discrepancy in the results. I make the same
recommendation, whether I say to a man, Speak the truth! or whether I say
to him, Be truthful!

It may be claimed that shades of difference make themselves apparent,
where one emphasizes the law and another points to an ideal. Perhaps they
do, in most minds. It certainly sounds more conceited to say: "I am
trying to be virtuous," than to say: "I am trying to do my duty." On the
other hand, the admonition, "Be truthful," appears to leave one a little
latitude. We take the truthful man, so to speak, in the lump. If he has a
strong bias toward truth-speaking, and is felt to be reliable, on the
whole, it is not certain that we should rob him of his title on the
ground of one or two lapses for which weighty reasons could be urged. The
admonition: "Speak the truth!" seems more uncompromising; and yet he who
prefers this legal form may maintain that it is a general admonition
addressed to men of sense who are supposed to be able to exercise reason.

144. THE NEGATIVE ASPECT OF THE MORAL LAW.--Why does the Moral Law, on
the surface at least, appear to be so largely negative? As we look back
upon our early youth, our days appear to be punctuated with punishments.
When we attain to years of discretion, this is not the case, with most of
us, at least.

But when we turn to the law, in our own society or in others, we find
prohibitions and penalties everywhere. Of rewards little is said. Is the
social will meant to be chiefly inhibitory? Is it a check to the action
of the individual?

(1) The negative aspect of the moral law is, to a considerable degree, an
illusion. The social will takes us up into itself and forms us. In our
early youth we are acutely conscious of the process. A vast number of the
things a boy wants to do are things that do not suit the social will at
all. He wants to break windows; he wants to fight other boys; he wants to
be idle; his delight is in adventures not normally within the reach of,
or suited to the taste of, the citizens of an ordered state. It is little
wonder that the boy regards the moral law as a nuisance and the state as
a suitable refuge for those suffering from senile decay.

There are individuals who scarcely get beyond this stage. They remain,
even in their later years, at war with the state. From time to time, we
seize them and incarcerate them. That the law _forbids_ and
_punishes_, they never forget. It is chiefly for such that the
criminal law exists. They are in the state, but they are not of it. They
have small share in the heritage of the civilized man.

For most of us there comes a time when most prohibitions are little
thought of. It has been maintained, that the law is negative partly for
the reason that positive duties are too numerous to be formulated. But
how numerous are the things that ought not to be done which normal men
never think of doing! At this moment, I could swallow a pen, taste the
ink in the ink-well, throw my papers from the window, hurl the porcelain
jar on the chimney-piece at the cat next door, swing on the chandelier. I
am conscious of no constraint in not doing these things. Why? I have
become to some degree adjusted to the type which the social will strives
to produce.

(2) And, having become so far adjusted, I recognize that the social will
is distributing rewards most lavishly. The whole organism of society is
its instrument. Work is found for me, and I am paid for it. If I am
industrious and dependable, I am recompensed. If I am truthful, I am
believed, which is no little convenience. If I am energetic and
persevering, I may grow rich or be elected to office. If I am courteous,
I am liked and am treated with courtesy.

Every day I am paid, in the ordinary course of things, according to my
deserts. Why should society work out an extraordinary system of rewards
for those whom it is already rewarding automatically?

In some cases, recourse is had to extraordinary rewards. We give prizes
to children in the schools; we give medals to soldiers for distinguished
service; we confer honorary degrees upon men for a variety of reasons. In
monarchical countries and in their colonies, the man who earns an
extraordinary reward may even pass it on, in the shape of a title, to his
descendants, as though it were original sin. But the giving of
extraordinary rewards to all ordinary, normal persons would be too much.

The man who markedly offends against the moral law is not an ordinary,
normal person. He is not adjusted to the social will. It is natural that
he should attract especial attention. Thus the "Thou shalt not!" is given
prominence. To this I might add, that punishments are cheaper and easier
than extraordinary rewards. Pains are sharper than pleasures, and are
easily inflicted.

(3) It is worthy of remark that, with the evolution of morality, it tends
to become positive. The enlightened moral man recognizes, not merely the
actual social will, but also the Rational Social Will. He may feel it his
duty to do much more than society formally demands of him.

145. HOW CAN ONE KNOW THE MORAL LAW?--This question has already been
answered in chapters preceding. Every man has three counsellors: (1) The
"objective" morality of his community--custom, law, and public opinion,
which certainly deserve to be taken very seriously; (2) his moral
intuitions, which may be of the finest; and (3) his reason, which
prevents him from making decisions without reflection.

Can a man who listens to these three counsellors be sure that he is right
in a given decision? The sooner a man learns that he is not infallible
and impeccable, the better it will be for him, for his neighbor, and for
the world at large.

CHAPTER XXXII

THE MORAL CONCEPTS

146. GOOD AND BAD; RIGHT AND WRONG.--As a rule, men reflect little
touching the moral terms which are on their lips every day. It is well
worth while to take some of them up and to turn them over for
examination.

We may use the terms "good" and "bad," "right" and "wrong," in a very
broad sense. A "good" trick may be a contemptible action; the "right" way
to crack a bank-safe may be the means to the successful commission of a
crime. Evidently, the words, thus used, are not employed in a moral
sense.

When we pass judgments from the moral point of view, we concern ourselves
with men and with their actions, and measure them by the standard of the
social will. Men and actions are "good," when they can meet the test.
Actions are "right" or "wrong," when they are in accordance with the
dictates of the moral law, or are at variance with them. That an act may
be both right and wrong, when viewed from different standpoints, even on
moral ground, we have seen in Chapter XXX. A man may mean to do right,
and may, through ignorance or error, be guilty of an act that we condemn.
To the intelligent, confusions are here unnecessary. But the history of
ethics is full of confusions in just this field.

147. DUTY AND OBLIGATION.--Verbal usage sometimes justifies the use of
one of these words, and sometimes that of the other. We say: I did my
duty; we do not say: I did my obligation. But this is a mere matter of
verbal expression, and we are really concerned with two names for the
same thing.

(1) There has been much dispute as to whether the sense of duty or moral
obligation can or cannot be analyzed. It has been declared unanalyzable
and unique. Some think this a point of much importance which imparts a
peculiar sacredness to the sense of duty.

There appears no reason why this position should be taken. No one has
been able to analyze into its ultimate sensational elements the peculiar
feeling one has when one is tickled. But this does not make the feeling
sacred or awe-inspiring. The authority of the sense of duty must be
looked for in another direction--and authority it has.

(2) I have spoken of the "sense" of duty. We all recognize that, when we
are faced with a duty, a feeling is normally present. But the whole
argument of this volume has maintained that man is not to be treated only
as the subject of emotions. He is a rational being. In some persons
feeling is very prominent; in others it is less so. It is quite
conceivable that, in a given case, a man capable of reflection should
recognize that he is confronted with a duty, and yet that he should feel
no impulse to perform it. Did no one ever feel any such impulse, the
whole system of duties, the whole rational order of society itself, would
dissolve and disappear.

Fortunately, the normal man does feel an impulse to perform duties
recognized as such. And in the case of those exceptional persons who do
not, society strives to supply surrogates, extraordinary impulses based
upon a system of rewards and punishments. This is a mere supplement, and
could never keep alive a society from which the sense of duty had
disappeared.

Duty _is_ sacred. It is the very foundation of every rational
society. It does not greatly concern ethics whether the impulse, which
makes itself felt in men who want to do their duty, can or cannot be
analyzed. But it is all-important that they should feel the impulse.

(3) Can a man do more than his duty? Is it the duty of everyone to be,
not merely a good, average, honest, faithful, law-abiding citizen, but to
go far beyond this and be conspicuously a saint?

It should be remembered that we are concerned with the connotation
properly to be given to a word in common use.

A certain amount of goodness the social will appears to demand of men
rather peremptorily. Its demands seem to vary somewhat with the
exigencies of the times--for example, in peace and in war. It does not
make the same demands of all men. From those to whom much has been given--
wealth, education, social or political influence,--much is required.
From certain persons it appears to be glad to get anything. If they keep
out of the police-court, it is agreeably surprised.

I have no desire to dissuade anyone from the arduous pursuit of
sainthood; but I submit that the word "duty," as sanctioned by usage,
implies but a limited demand, and takes cognizance of character and
environment. He who comes up to this moderate standard is not condemned;
but he is free to go farther and to become as great a saint as he
pleases. In which case, we admire him. Those who, in the past, have
spoken of "counsels of perfection," have drawn upon a profound knowledge
of human nature and of human societies.

148. REWARD AND PUNISHMENT.--We saw in the last chapter (Sec 144) that it
is something of a criticism upon man and upon societies of men that
extraordinary rewards have to be given and that punishments must be
inflicted.

More attention has been paid to punishments than to rewards, and the
question touching the proper aim of punishment in a civilized state has
received much discussion. The study of the history of the infliction of
punishment is suggestive, but it does not shed a clear light. The social
will has not always been a rational social will, and some of its
decisions may be placed among the curiosities of literature. Still, they
may serve the purpose of the traditional "terrible example."

Should we, in punishing, aim at the prevention of crime? Are punishments
to be "deterrent"? Under this head we must consider, not merely the
criminal himself, but also those who are in more or less danger of
becoming criminals, though they have, as yet, committed no known crime.

Should the aim of punishment be the reformation of the criminal?

Should we punish merely that "justice" be done? He who steals and eats
fruit is visited with punishment, in the course of nature, if the fruit
is unripe. But he suffers equally if he eats his own fruit, under like
conditions. This seems a blind punishment. Should we visit pain upon him
for the theft, merely because it is a theft, and without looking abroad
for any other reason?

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