Books: A Handbook of Ethical Theory
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George Stuart Fullerton >> A Handbook of Ethical Theory
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He points out that many methods are natural and are habitually used, but
claims that only one can be rational. By which he means that the several
methods of determining right conduct urged by the different schools of
the moralists must be reconciled, or all but one must be rejected.
[Footnote: _Ibid_., chapter i, Sec 3.]
In this chapter I shall not discuss in detail the schools of the
moralists and the specific methods which characterize them. I am here
concerned only with the general distinction between the scientific
methods of deduction and induction, and its bearing upon ethical
investigations.
How do we discover that, in an isosceles triangle, the sides which
subtend the equal angles are equal? We do not go about collecting the
opinions of individuals upon the subject, nor do we consult the records
of other peoples, past or present. We do not measure a great number of
triangles and arrive at our conclusion after a calculation of the
probable error of our measurements. The appeal to authorities does not
interest us; that measurements are always more or less inaccurate, and
that all actual triangles are more or less irregular, we freely admit,
but we do not regard such facts as significant. We use a single triangle
as an illustration, and from what is given in, or along with, that
individual instance, we deduce certain consequences in which we have the
highest confidence. Here we follow the method of deduction. We accept a
"given," with its validity we do not concern ourselves; our aim is the
discovery of what may be gotten out of it.
In the inductive sciences the individual instance has an importance of
quite a different sort. It is not a mere illustration, unequivocally
embodying a general truth to which we may appeal directly, treating the
instance as a mere vehicle, in itself of little significance. Individual
instances are observed and compared; uniformities are searched for; it is
sought to establish general truths, not directly evident, but whose
authority rests upon the particular facts that have been observed and
classified.
It is a commonplace of logic that both induction and deduction may be
employed in many fields of science. We may attain by inductive inquiry to
more or less general truths, which we no longer care to call in question,
and which we accept as a "given," to be exploited and carried out in its
consequences. Indeed, we need not betake ourselves to science to have an
illustration of this method of procedure. In everyday life men have
maxims by which they judge of the probable actions of their fellow-men
and in the light of which they direct their dealings with them. Such
maxims as that men may be counted upon to consult their own interests
have certainly not been adopted independently of an experience of what,
on particular occasions, men have shown themselves to be. But, once
adopted, they may be treated as, for practical purposes, unquestionable;
men are concerned to apply them, not to substantiate them. In so far, men
reason from them deductively and pass from the general rule to the
particular instance.
16. THE AUTHORITY OF THE "GIVEN."--Obviously the "given," in the sense
indicated, may possess, in certain cases, a very high degree of
authority, and, in others, a very low degree.
In the case of the mathematical truth referred to above, men do not, in
fact, find it necessary to call in question the "given," though they may
be divided in their notions touching the general nature of mathematical
evidence and whence it draws its apparently indisputable authority. In
certain of the inductive sciences, as in mechanics, physics and
chemistry, generalizations have been attained in which even the critical
repose much confidence. In other fields men are constantly making general
statements which are promptly contradicted by their fellows, and are
drawing from them inferences the justice of which is in many quarters
disallowed. There are axioms and axioms, maxims and maxims. The
confidence felt by a given individual in a particular "given" does not
guarantee its acceptance by all men of equal intelligence. Where,
however, the evidence upon which a disputed "given" is based is
forthcoming, there is, at least, ground for rational discussion.
Not a few famous writers have treated moral truths as analogous to
mathematical. [Footnote: See the chapter on "Intuitionism," Sec 90, note.]
To take here a single instance. Sidgwick, in his truly admirable work on
"The Methods of Ethics," maintains [Footnote: Book III, chapter xiii, Sec
3.] that "the propositions, 'I ought not to prefer a present lesser good
to a future greater good,' and 'I ought not to prefer my own lesser good
to the greater good of another,' do present themselves as self-evident;
as much (_e.g._) as the mathematical axiom that 'if equals be added
to equals the wholes are equals.'"
But it is one thing to claim that we are in possession of a "given" with
ultimate and indisputable authority; it is another to convince men that
we really do possess it. Locke's efforts at deduction fall lamentably
short of the model set by Euclid. "Professor Sidgwick's well-known moral
axiom, 'I ought not to prefer my own lesser good to the greater good of
another,' would," writes Westermarck, [Footnote: _Op_. _cit.,_
Volume I, chapter i, p. 12.] "if explained to a Fuegian or a Hottentot,
be regarded by him, not as self-evident, but as simply absurd; nor can it
claim general acceptance even among ourselves. Who is that 'Another' to
whose greater good I ought not to prefer my own lesser good? A fellow-
countryman, a savage, a criminal, a bird, a fish--all without
distinction?" To Bentham's "everybody to count for one and nobody for
more than one" may be opposed Hartley's preference of benevolent and
religious persons to the rest of mankind. [Footnote: _Observations on
Man_, Part II, chapter iii, 6.]
The fact that men eminent for their intellectual ability and for the
breadth of their information are, in morals, inclined to accept, as
ultimate, principles not identical, and thus to found different schools,
would seem to indicate that, to one who aims at treating ethics as a
science, principles, as well as the deductions from them, should be
objects of closest scrutiny. They should not be taken for granted. The
history of ethical theory appears to make it clear that the "given" of
the moralist is not of the same nature as that of the geometer.
The ethical philosopher cannot, hence, confine himself to developing
deductively the implications of some principle or principles assumed
without critical examination. He must establish the validity even of his
principles. This we should bear in mind when we approach the study of the
different ethical schools.
CHAPTER VI
THE MATERIALS OF ETHICS
17. HOW THE MORALIST SHOULD PROCEED.--The above reflections on method
suggest the materials of which the moralist should avail himself in
rearing the edifice of his science.
(1) Evidently he should reflect upon the moral judgments which he finds
in himself, the moral being with whom he is best acquainted. He should
endeavor to render consistent and luminous moral judgments which, as he
finds, have too often been inconsistent and more or less blind.
(2) He should take cognizance of his own setting--of the social
conscience embodied in the community in which he lives.
(3) And since, as we have seen, the significance, either of the
individual conscience, or of the social conscience revealed in custom,
law and public opinion, can hardly become apparent to one who does not
bring within his horizon many consciences individual and social, he
should enlarge his view so as to include such. The moralists, in our day,
show an increasing tendency to pay serious attention to this mass of
materials. They do not confine their attention to the moral standard
which this man or that has accepted as authoritative for him, nor to that
accepted as authoritative in a given community. They study _man_--
man in all stages of his development and in material and social settings
the most diverse.
(4) Nor should the student of ethics overlook the work which has been
done by those moralists who have gone before him. He who has studied
descriptive anatomy is aware of the immense service which has been done
him by the unwearied observations of his predecessors; observations which
have been put on record, and which draw his attention to numberless
details of structure that would, without such aid, certainly escape his
attention. Ethics is an ancient discipline. It has fixed the attention of
acute minds for many centuries. He who approaches the subject naively,
without an acquaintance with the many ethical theories which have been
advanced and the acute criticisms to which they have been subjected, will
almost certainly say what someone has said before, and said, perhaps,
much better. The valor of ignorance will involve him in ignominious
defeat.
(5) It is evident that the moralist must make use of materials offered
him by workers in many other fields of science. The biologist may have
valuable suggestions to make touching the impulses and instincts of man.
The psychologist treats of the same, and exhibits the work of the
intellect in ordering and organizing the impulses. He studies the
phenomena of desire, will, habit, the formation of character. The
anthropologist and the sociologist are concerned with the codes of
communities and with the laws of social development. The fields of
economics, politics and comparative jurisprudence obviously march with
that cultivated by the student of ethics.
18. THE PHILOSOPHER AS MORALIST.--In all these sciences at once it is not
possible for the moralist to be an adept. The mass of the material they
furnish is so vast that the ethical writer who starts out to master it in
all its details may well dread that he may be overcome by senility before
he is ready to undertake the formulation of an ethical theory.
It does not follow, however, that he should leave to those who occupy
themselves professionally with any of these fields the task of framing a
theory of morals. He must have sufficient information to be able to
select with intelligence what has some important bearing upon the problem
of conduct, but there are many details into which he need not go. It is
well to note the following points:
(1) A multitude of details may be illustrative of a comparatively small
number of general principles. It is with these general principles that
the moralist is concerned. The anthropologist may regard it as his duty
to spend much labor in the attempt to discover why this or that act, this
or that article of food, happens in a given community to be taboo to
certain persons. The student of ethics is not bound to take up the
detailed investigation of such matters. Human nature, in its general
constitution, is much the same in different races and peoples. The
influence of environment is everywhere apparent. There are significant
uniformities to be discovered even by one who has a limited amount of
detailed information. "Those who come after us will see nothing new,"
said Antoninus, "nor have those before us seen anything more, but in a
manner he who is forty years old; if he has any understanding at all, has
seen by virtue of the uniformity which prevails all things which have
been and all that will be." [Footnote: _Thoughts_, XI, 1. London,
1891, translated by GEORGE LONG.] Which is, to be sure, an overstatement
of the case, but one containing a germ of truth.
(2) We find, by looking into their books, that men most intimately
acquainted with the facts of the moral life as revealed in different
races and peoples may differ widely in the ethical doctrine which they
are inclined to base upon them. Not all men, even when endowed with no
little learning, are gifted with the clearness of vision which can detect
the significance of given facts; nor are all equally capable of weaving
relevant facts into a consistent and reasonable theory. The keenness and
the constructive genius of the individual count for much. And breadth of
view counts for much also. We have seen that ethics touches many fields
of investigation, and the philosopher is supposed, at least, to let his
vision range over a broad realm, and to grasp the relations of the
different sciences to each other. He is, moreover, supposed to be trained
in reflective analysis, and of this ethical theory appears to stand in no
little need.
(3) Finally, the mere fact that ethics has for so many centuries been
regarded as one of the disciplines falling within the domain of the
philosopher is not without its significance. One may deplore the tendency
to base ethics upon this or that metaphysical doctrine, and desire to see
it made an independent science; and yet one may be compelled to admit
that it is not easy to comprehend and to estimate the value of many of
the ethical theories which have been evolved in the past, without having
rather an intimate acquaintance with the history of philosophy. The
ethical teachings of Plato, of Aristotle, of St. Thomas, of Kant, of
Hegel, of Green, lose much of their meaning when taken out of their
setting. The history of ethical theory is blind when divorced from the
history of philosophy, and with the history of ethical theory the
moralist should be acquainted.
The philosopher has no prescriptive right to preempt the field of ethics.
Many men may cultivate it with profit. Nevertheless, he, too, should
cultivate it, not independently and with a disregard of what has been
done by others, but in a spirit of hearty cooperation, thankfully
accepting such help as is offered him by his neighbors.
CHAPTER VII
THE AIM OF ETHICS AS SCIENCE
19. THE APPEAL TO REASON.--The proper aim of the scientific study of
ethics appears to be suggested with sufficient clearness by what has been
said in the chapters on the accepted content of morals.
Where individuals take up unreflectively the maxims which are to control
their conduct, human life can scarcely be said to be under the guidance
of reason. Where, moreover, the codes of individuals clash with each
other or with the social conscience of their community, and where the
codes of different communities are disconcertingly diverse, planful
concerted action with a view to the control of conduct appears to be
impracticable. Historical accident, blind impulse and caprice, cannot
serve as guides for a rational creature seeking to live, along with
others, a rational life.
"The aim of ethics," says Sidgwick, [Footnote: _The Methods of
Ethics_, Book I, chapter vi, Sec 1.] "is to render scientific--i.e.,
true, and as far as possible systematic--the apparent cognitions that
most men have of the rightness or reasonableness of conduct, whether the
conduct be considered as right in itself, or as the means to some end
conceived as ultimately reasonable." The use here of the word
"cognitions" calls our attention to the fact that, when men say, "this is
right, that is wrong," they mean no more than, "this I like, that I do
not like"; and the use of the word "apparent" indicates that the
judgments expressed may be approved by the man who makes them, and yet be
erroneous. The appeal is to an objective standard; there is a demand for
proof.
That most men recognize, in some cases dimly, in some cases clearly and
explicitly, that the appeal to such a standard is justifiable, can
scarcely be denied. Between "I choose" and "I ought to choose," between
"the community demands," and "the community ought to demand," men
generally recognize a distinction when they have attained to a capacity
for reflection.
It has, however, been denied that the appeal is justifiable, and denied
by no mean authority. "The presumed objectivity of moral judgments,"
writes Westermarck, [Footnote: 2 _The Origin and Development of the
Moral Ideas_, chapter i, p. 17.] "being a chimera, there can be no
moral truth in the sense in which this term is generally understood. The
ultimate reason for this is, that the moral concepts are based upon
emotions, and that the contents of an emotion fall entirely outside the
category of truth. But it may be true or not that we have a certain
emotion, it may be true or not that a given mode of conduct has a
tendency to evoke in us moral indignation or moral approval. Hence a
moral judgment is true or false according as its subject has or has not
that tendency which the predicate attributes to it. If I say that it is
wrong to resist evil, and yet resistance to evil has no tendency whatever
to call forth in me an emotion of moral disapproval, then my judgment is
false." The conclusion drawn from this is that there are no general moral
truths, and that "the object of scientific ethics cannot be to fix rules
for human conduct"; it can only be "to study the moral consciousness as a
fact."
20. THE APPEAL TO REASON JUSTIFIED.--The words of so high an authority
should not be passed over lightly. One is impelled to seek for their
proper appreciation and their reconciliation with the judgment of other
moralists. Such can be found, I think, by turning to two truths dwelt
upon in what has preceded: the truth that the moralist should not assume
that he is possessed of a "given" analogous to that of the geometer--a
standard in no need of criticism; and the equally important truth that
the moralist cannot hope to frame a code which will simply replace the
codes of individual communities and will prescribe the details of human
conduct while ignoring such codes altogether.
But it does not seem to follow that, because the moralist may not set up
an arbitrary code of this sort, he is also forbidden to criticize and
compare moral judgments, to arrange existing codes in a certain order as
lower and higher, to frame some notion of what constitutes progress. He
may hold before himself, in outline, at least, an ideal of conduct, and
not one taken up arbitrarily but based upon the phenomena of the moral
consciousness as he has observed them. And in the light of this ideal he
may judge of conduct; his appeal is to an objective standard.
Thus, he who says that it is false that it is right to reduce to slavery
prisoners taken in war may, if he be sufficiently unreflective, have no
better reason for his judgment than a feeling of repugnance to such
conduct. But, if he has risen to the point of taking broad views of men
and their moral codes, he may very well assert the falsity of the
statement even when he feels no personal repugnance to the holding of
certain persons as slaves. His appeal is, in fact, to such a standard as
is above indicated, and his condemnation of certain forms of conduct is
based upon their incompatibility with it.
Hence, a man may significantly assert that certain conduct is objectively
desirable, although it may not be desired by himself or by his community.
He may judge a thing to be wrong without _feeling_ it to be wrong.
Whether anything would actually be judged to be wrong, if no one ever had
any emotions, is a different question. With it we may class the question
whether anything would be judged to be wrong if no one were possessed of
even a spark of reason. There is small choice between having nothing to
see and not being able to see anything. [Footnote: That, in the citation
above given, WESTERMARCK'S attention was concentrated upon the extreme
position taken by some moralists touching the function of the reason in
moral judgments seems to me evident. He is far too able an observer to
overlook the significance of the diversity of moral codes and the meaning
of progress. He writes: "Though rooted in the emotional side of our
nature, our moral opinions are in a large measure amenable to reason. Now
in every society the traditional notions as to what is good or bad,
obligatory or indifferent, are commonly accepted by the majority of
people without further reflection. By tracing them to their source it
will be found that not a few of these notions have their origin in
sentimental likings and antipathies, to which a scrutinizing and
enlightened judge can attach little importance; whilst, on the other
hand, he must account blamable many an act and omission which public
opinion, out of thoughtlessness, treats with indifference." Vol. I, pp.
2-3. See also his appeals to reason where it is a question of the
attitude of the community toward legal responsibility on the part of the
young, toward drunkenness, and toward the heedless production of
offspring doomed to misery and disease, pp. 269 and 310.]
An appeal, thus, from the actual to the ideal appears to be possible.
And, since the natural man, unenlightened and unreflective, is not more
inclined to show himself to be a reasonable being in the sphere of morals
than elsewhere, it seems that there is no little need of ethical science.
Its aim is to bring about the needed enlightenment. Its value can only be
logically denied by those who maintain seriously that it is easy to know
what it is right to do. Do men really hold this, if they are thoughtful?
PART III
MAN AND HIS ENVIRONMENT
CHAPTER VIII
MAN'S NATURE
21. THE BACKGROUND OF ACTIONS.--In estimating human actions we take into
consideration both the doer and the circumstances under which the deed
was done. Actions may be desirable or undesirable, good or bad, according
to their setting. How shall we judge of the blow that takes away human
life? It may be the involuntary reaction of a man startled by a shock; it
may be a motion of justifiable self-defence; it may be one struck at the
command of a superior and in the defence of one's country; it may be the
horrid outcome of cruel rapacity or base malevolence.
Nor are the emotions, torn out of their context, more significant than
actions without a background. They are mental phenomena to be observed
and described by the psychologist; to the moralist they are, taken alone,
as unmeaning as the letters of the alphabet, but, like them, capable in
combination of carrying many meanings. Anger, fear, wonder, and all the
rest are, as natural emotions, neither good nor bad; they are colors,
which may enter into a picture and in it acquire various values.
In morals, when men have attained to the stage of enlightenment at which
moral estimation is a possible process, they always consider emotions,
intentions, and actions in the light of their background. We do not
demand a moral life of the brutes; we do not look for it in the
intellectually defective and the emotionally insane; nor do we expect a
savage caught in the bush to harbor the same emotions, or to have the
same ethical outlook, as the missionary with whom we may confront him.
The concepts of moral responsibility, of desert, of guilt, are emptied of
all significance, when we lose sight of the nature, inborn or acquired,
of the creature haled before the bar of our judgment, and of the
environment, which on the one hand, impels him to action, and, on the
other, furnishes the stage upon which the drama of his life must be
played out to the end.
Hence, he who would not act as the creature of blind impulse or as the
unthinking slave of tradition, but would exercise a conscious and
intelligent control over his conduct, seems compelled to look at his life
and its setting in a broad way, to scrutinize with care both the nature
of man and the environment without which that nature could find no
expression. When he does this, he only does more intelligently what men
generally do instinctively and somewhat at haphazard. He seeks a rational
estimate of the significance of conduct, and a standard by which it may
be measured.
22. MAN'S NATURE.--Moralists ancient and modern have had a good deal to
say about the nature of man. To some of them it has seemed rather a
simple thing to describe it. Its constitution, as they have conceived it,
has furnished them with certain principles which should guide human
action. Aristotle, who assumed that every man seeks his own good,
conceived of his good or "well-being" as largely identical with "well-
doing." This "well-doing" meant to him "fulfilling the proper functions
of man," or in other words acting as the nature of man prescribes.
[Footnote: _Politics_, i, 2. See, further, on _Man's Nature_,
chapter xxvi.] To the Stoic man's duty was action in accordance with his
nature. [Footnote: MARCUS AURELIUS, _Thoughts_, v, 1.] Butler,
[Footnote: _Sermons on Human Nature_, ii] many centuries later,
found in man's nature a certain "constitution," with conscience naturally
supreme and the passions in a position of subordination. This
"constitution" plainly indicated to him the conduct appropriate to a
human being.
Such appeals to man's nature we are apt to listen to with a good deal of
sympathy. Manifestly, man differs from the brutes, and they differ, in
their kind, from each other. To each kind, a life of a certain sort seems
appropriate. The rational being is expected to act rationally, to some
degree, at least. In our dealings with creatures on a lower plane, we
pitch our expectations much lower.
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