The Moral Economy Part 7

To any one who judges himself fairly, with a wide and vivid image of life as it is in all its ramifications and obscurities, the evil of the world is all one. It follows that, as there is no perfect happiness except in the annihilation of evil, so there can be no peace of mind, no self-respect, no sense of living truly and for the best, unless one's action can be conceived as wholly saving and up-building, as contributing in its place and in its way to the general forward movement. This, I think, is the deeper explanation of the buoyancy of devoted people, of that buoyancy which was a source of such great wonder to the disillusioned wise men of ancient times. And this, I think, is the meaning of the Christian teaching that it is more blessed to give than to receive; and that the love of one's G.o.d is to grow out of the love of one's neighbor.

I have endeavored to show that the highest good is the greatest good; that it may not only be inferred from the present good, but that it actually _consists_ of the present good, with more like it, and with the present evil eliminated. By _mysticism_ I mean that species of formalism in which the highest good, out of respect for its exaltation, is divorced from the present good, and so emptied of content.

Professor James has said that it is {117} characteristic of rationalists and sentimentalists, to "extract a quality from the muddy particulars of experience, and find it so pure when extracted that they contrast it with each and all its muddy instances as an opposite and higher, nature." [29] There is a peculiar liability to such abstraction in religion, for religion involves a judgment of insufficiency against every limited achievement. A longing after unqualified good is the very breath of enlightened religion; and in order that that ideal may be kept pure, it must not be identified with any partial good. Indeed, the office of religion requires it to condemn as only partial, good that is commonly taken to be sufficient.

Now there is only one way of defining a good that shall be universal without being merely formal, and that is by defining perfection quant.i.tatively rather than qualitatively; subst.i.tuting for the Platonic Absolute Good, in which the present good is refined away into a phrase or symbol, the maximum good, in which the present good is saved and multiplied. He who believes that he conceives goodness otherwise than as the good which he already possesses, deceives himself; as does the author of the _Religio Medici_, when he says:

That wherein G.o.d Himself is happy, the holy Angels are happy, in whose defect the Devils are unhappy, that dare I call happiness; whatsoever {118} conduceth unto this may with an easy Metaphor deserve that name; whatsoever else the World terms Happiness, is to me a story out of Pliny, a tale of Boccace or Malizspini, an apparition, or neat delusion, wherein there is no more of Happiness than the name. Bless me in this life with but peace of my Conscience, command of my affections, the love of Thyself and my dearest friends, and I shall be happy enough to pity Caesar.[30]

Now it is safe to say that Sir Thomas Browne was in fact unable to attribute to G.o.d and the angels any other happiness than these same blessings which he covets for himself, saving only that they shall be without stint, and joined with others like them.

Formalism, as we have seen, is never merely negative in its consequences; for any moral untruth, since it replaces a truth, cannot fail to pervert life. Thus one may be persuaded with the author whom I have just quoted to count the world, "not an Inn, but an Hospital; and a place not to live, but to dye in." [31] I do not suppose that any one ever succeeded in wholly resisting the hospitality of this world, and one suspects that Thomas Browne partook not a little of its good cheer; but the opinion is false notwithstanding, and if false, then confusing and misleading. This world is not a place to suffer in, nor even a place to be mended in, but the only opportunity of achievement and service that can be certainly {119} counted on. The good is in the making here, if it is in the making anywhere. To neglect life here is equivalent to forfeiting it altogether.

Religious formalism may induce not only a default of present opportunity and responsibility, but also a subst.i.tution for good living of an emotional improvisation on the theme of absolute perfection, like that in the _Book of the Courtier_:

If, then, the beauties which with these dim eyes of ours we daily see in corruptible bodies, . . . seem to us so fair and gracious that they often kindle most ardent fire in us, . . . what happy wonder, what blessed awe, shall we think is that which fills the souls that attain to the vision of divine beauty! What sweet flame, what delightful burning, must that be thought which springs from the fountain of supreme and true beauty!--which is the source of every other beauty, which never waxes nor wanes: ever fair, and of its own self most simple in every part alike; like only to itself, and partaking of none other; but fair in such wise that all other fair things are fair because they derive their beauty from it. This is that beauty identical with highest good.[32]

Now I do not want to be understood as condemning this mysticism out of hand. I mean only that while it is eloquent and purifying, it is, nevertheless, not illuminating; and that if it be mistaken for illumination, it does in fact hide the light. It has no meaning whatsoever except the general idea of the superlative, and if it be not attached to some definite content drawn from {120} experience of acts and their consequences, it does but subst.i.tute a phrase for the proper objects of action and an emotion for provident conduct.

There is a further moral danger in mysticism, which I need only mention here, because I propose to discuss it more fully in the chapter on religion. Since mysticism opposes a formal perfection to the concrete good of experience, it tends to obscure the distinction between good and evil. That distinction lies within experience, and if experience as a whole be discredited, the distinction is discredited with it. If the common, familiar good is not to be taken as valid, then finality no longer attaches to that common, familiar evil which the moral will has been trained to condemn and resist. If the good lie "beyond good and evil," then neither is the good good nor the evil evil. The result is to leave the moral will without justification, supported only by habit and custom.

The virtue of piety lies in its completing, not in its replacing, secular efficiency. It gives to a life that is provident and fruitful as it goes, the stimulus of a momentous project, and reverence for a good that shall embrace unlimited possibilities.

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VII

In reviewing the several levels of life which morality defines, we may observe two types of universal value. The lower values in relation to the higher are indispensable. There is no health without satisfaction, no achievement without health, no rational intercourse without achievement, and no true religion except as the perfecting and completing of a rational society. The higher values, on the other hand, are more universal than the lower in that they surpa.s.s these in validity, and are ent.i.tled to preference. Thus the lower values are enn.o.bled by the higher, while the higher are given body and meaning by the lower. Satisfaction derives dignity from being controlled by the motive of good-will, while the moral kingdom at large derives its wealth, its pertinence to life, and its incentive, from the great manifold of particular interests which it conserves and fosters.

It is the formal rather than the material principle in life which defines the direction of moral effort. By prudence, purpose, justice, and good-will life is regenerated and urged, against the resistance of inertia, towards its maximum of attainment. Hence these are the virtues which make men heroes, and which are symbolized in manners and in worship. Manners are a {122} symbolic representation of rational intercourse; thus courtesy is a ceremony of respect, chivalry of service, and modesty of self-restraint and impersonality. Worship is similarly a symbolic representation of good-will and hope. Upon the cultivation of "those outward and sensible motions which may express or promote an invisible devotion" human life is dependent not only for its graciousness, but for its discipline and growth.

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CHAPTER IV

THE MORAL TEST OF PROGRESS

The phrase "philosophy of history" is at present somewhat in disrepute.

It enjoys much the same unpopularity among historians as does the term "metaphysics" among scientists, and probably for the same reason. It is a.s.sumed that such a discipline must either violate or exceed the facts in the interests of some _a priori_ conception. Doubtless some philosophies of history have been guilty of this charge; but they do not, I am sure, exhaust the possibilities in the case. In the present chapter I shall present an outline of what might fairly be regarded as a philosophy of history, but which nevertheless does no more than attempt a precise definition of principles which even the historian is forced to employ.

I shall not attempt to define the task of history, except in the broadest terms. The form which its results should finally a.s.sume is a matter of dispute among historians themselves. But it is at least possible to indicate the field of history in terms that will command general a.s.sent. In the first place, history deals with change, with the temporal sequence of events; and in the second place, it confines itself to such events as belong to what is called human conduct.

Entirely apart from theories of method or technique, it seems clear that any established fact falling within this description belongs properly to that body of knowledge which we call history.

I wish especially to call attention to the fact that history deals with _human conduct_. It deals, in other words, with actions which serve interests; with needs, desires, and purposes as these are fulfilled or thwarted in the course of time. Its subject-matter, therefore, is moral. It describes the clash of interests, the failure or success of ambition, the improvement or decay of nations; in short, all things good and evil in so far as they have been achieved and recorded. And the broader the scope of the historian's study the more clearly do these moral principles emerge. The present-day emphasis on the accurate verification of data somewhat obscures, but does not negate the fact, that every item of detail is in the end brought under some judgment of good or evil, of gain or loss in human welfare. All history is virtually a history of civilization; and civilization is a moral conception referring to the sum of human achievement in so far as this is p.r.o.nounced good.

Now there is a branch of philosophy called {125} "ethics," to which is committed the investigation of moral conceptions. These conceptions are as much subject to exact a.n.a.lysis as conceptions of motion or organic behavior. And such an a.n.a.lysis must underlie all judgments concerning the condition of mankind in any time or place, if these judgments make any claim to truth. The application of ethical a.n.a.lysis to the recorded life of man is a philosophy of history.[1] Such a discipline is charged with the criticism of the past in terms of critical principles which have been explicitly formulated. With a knowledge of what it means to be good or evil one may conclude in all seriousness whether the fortunes of society in any time or place were good or evil. One may with meaning distinguish between those who have been the friends and the enemies of society; and one may refer to the growth or decay of nations with some notion of what these terms signify. But it will be the main problem of a philosophy of history to deliver some verdict concerning the progress or decline of inst.i.tutions, and of civilization at large.

It is necessary that we should at once rid our minds of false notions concerning the meaning of _progress_. This conception has been greatly confused during recent times through being identified with evolution in the biological sense. It should be perfectly clear that such evolution may or {126} may not be progressive; it means only a continuous modification of life in accordance with the demands of the environment.

Even where this modification takes the direction of increasing complexity it does not necessarily const.i.tute betterment; and it is entirely consistent with the principle of adaptation that it should take the reverse direction. Biological evolution signifies only a steady yielding to the pressure of the physical environment, whether for better or for worse. It is also important not to confuse the conception of progress with that of mere change or temporal duration.

Because society has grown older it has not necessarily on that account grown wiser; nor because it has changed much has it necessarily on that account changed for the better. Whether the acc.u.mulations of the past are wealth or rubbish is not to be determined by their bulk.

Progress cleared of these ambiguities means, then, _a change from good to better_; an increase, in the course of time, of the value of life, whatever that may be. Taken in the absolute sense it means, not a gain here or a gain there, but _a gain on the whole_. It is impossible to reach any conclusion whatsoever concerning progress except in the light of some conception of the total enterprise of life. Every advance must be estimated not merely in relation to the interest immediately {127} served, but in relation to that whole complex of interests which is called humanity.

In discussing progress I shall therefore with right employ those moral conceptions which I have already defined. I shall regard as good whatever fulfils interests, and as morally good whatever fulfils all interests affected to the maximum degree. Especial importance now attaches to the principle which I have phrased the _quant.i.tative basis of preference_. Since progress involves the change from good to better, it implies an increment of value. The later age is judged to be _as good and better_. I can see no way of verifying such a proposition unless it be possible to find in the greater good both the lesser good and also something added to it and likewise accounted good.

In other words, progress involves measurement of value, and this involves some _unit of value_ which is common to the terms compared.

The method must be in the last a.n.a.lysis that of superimposition.

Bagehot virtually employs this method in the chapter of his _Physics and Politics_, which he ent.i.tles "Verifiable Progress Politically Considered." Let me quote, for example, his comparison of the Englishman with the primitive Australian.

If we omit the higher but disputed topics of morals and religion, we shall find, I think, that the plainer {128} and agreed-on superiorities of the Englishmen are these: first, that they have a greater command over the powers of nature upon the whole. Though they may fall short of individual Australians in certain feats of petty skill, though they may not throw the boomerang as well, or light a fire with earthsticks as well, yet on the whole twenty Englishmen with their implements and skill can change the material world immeasurably more than twenty Australians and their machines. Secondly, that this power is not external only; it is also internal. The English not only possess better machines for moving nature, but are themselves better machines.

Mr. Babbage taught us years ago that one great use of machinery was not to augment the force of man, but to register and regulate the power of man; and this in a thousand ways civilized man can do, and is ready to do, better and more precisely than the barbarian. Thirdly, civilized man has not only greater powers over nature, but knows better how to use them, and by better I here mean better for the health and comfort of his present body and mind. He can lay up for old age, which a savage having no durable means of sustenance cannot; he is ready to lay up because he can distinctly foresee the future, which the vague-minded savage cannot.[2]

It will be observed that in each case the superiority of the Englishmen lies in the fact that they _beat the Australians at their own game_.

Australians are as much interested as Englishmen in obtaining command over nature, in organizing their own powers, and in securing health and comfort. The Englishmen, however, can fulfil these interests not only up to but also beyond {129} the point which marks the limit of the Australians' attainment.

The method of superimposition is virtually employed in all compet.i.tive struggle. The glory and fruits of victory are sought by both opponents, and the success of one is the failure of the other. The superiority of the victor to the vanquished is beyond question only because they had the same interest at stake.

The application of this method to the determination of progress is not confined to philosophers of history. It is applied by every individual who realizes that his advance from childhood to maturity has been attended with growth and development. For the old boundaries of childhood still remain as evidence of the greater magnitude of the life which has outgrown them. Similarly every man may mark within himself the various limits which once bounded him, but which he has since exceeded in consequence of steady and consecutive effort. The progress of mankind at large differs only in complexity and range. It can be tested and determined only because identical interests persist. If men had not in all times wanted the same things it would be impossible to measure their attainments. Their successes and failures would be incommensurable. But the old needs and the old hopes yet remain. The problem of life which was from {130} the beginning is a problem still.

If it can be shown that the old needs are met more easily, along with new needs besides, that there is better promise that the hopes will be fulfilled, and that the general problem of life is nearer a solution, then human progress will have been demonstrated.

II

I propose, in the first place, to discuss two general principles, the operation of which is conducive to progress. One of these principles is _external_, that is, it relates to the environment of life rather than to its internal economy; and to this I shall turn first.

The external environment of life is in some respects favorable, in other respects unfavorable. Now, strangely enough, it is the unfavorable rather than the favorable aspect of the environment that conduces to progress. Progress, or even the least good, would, of course, be impossible, unless the mechanical environment was morally plastic. The fact that nature submits to the organization which we call life is a fundamental and constant condition of all civilization.

But there is nothing in the mere compliance of nature to press life forward. It is the _menace_ of nature which stimulates progress. It is because nature always remains a source of difficulty and danger {131} that life is provoked to renew the war and achieve a more thorough conquest. Nature will not permit life to keep what it has unless it gains more.

The external environment of life embraces not only mechanical nature, but also such outlying units of life as have not yet been brought into harmonious relations. Conflict between individuals, tribes, races, or nations operates in a manner a.n.a.logous to mechanical nature. It exerts a constant pressure in the direction of greater strength and efficiency. In order that man shall not be robbed by his enemies of what he already has, he must forever be attempting to make himself impregnable and formidable.

But war and the struggle with nature not only put a premium on the better organization of life; they also make it a condition of permanence. Superior individuals survive when inferior individuals perish in the struggle, or the superior type obtains an ascendency over the inferior. In human warfare the defeated party is rarely if ever utterly annihilated; it tends, however, to lose its prestige or even its ident.i.ty through being a.s.similated to the victorious party. In either case that form of life which in conflict proves itself the stronger, tends to prevail, through the exclusion of those forms which prove themselves weaker.

An unfavorable environment has, then, operated externally to develop coherence and unity {132} in life. But the cost has been prodigious, and must be subtracted from the gain. For there is no virtue in conflict save the strength of the victor. Man has made a virtue of this necessity; but to obviate so dire a necessity becomes one of the first tasks which civilization undertakes. The attempt to eliminate conflict, and reduce to a minimum the sacrifice of special interests, marks the operation of the _internal_ or _moral_ principle of progress.

During the historical period this principle a.s.sumes a constantly greater prominence.

A society may be said to be internally progressive when it can afford to withdraw some of its energies from the struggle for existence, and devote them to the improvement of method and the saving of waste. Its stability and security must be so far guaranteed as to make it safe to undertake a reconstruction, calculated to provide more fully for its const.i.tuent interests and develop its latent possibilities. There now obtains, within limits that tend steadily to expand, what Bagehot calls "government by discussion," that is, the regulation of action by the invention, selection, and trial of the best means. This subst.i.tution of rational procedure for custom is an irreversible and germinal process. Let me quote Bagehot's account of it:

A government by discussion, if it can be borne, at once breaks down the yoke of fixed custom. The {133} idea of the two is inconsistent. As far as it goes, the mere putting up of a subject to discussion is a clear admission that that subject is in no degree settled by established rule, and that men are free to choose in it. . . . And if a single subject or group of subjects be once admitted to discussion, ere long the habit of discussion comes to be established, the sacred charm of use and wont to be dissolved. "Democracy," it has been said in modern times, "is like the grave; it takes, but it does not give."

The same is true of "discussion." Once effectually submit a subject to that ordeal, and you can never withdraw it again; you can never again clothe it with mystery, or fence it by consecration; it remains forever open to free choice, and exposed to profane deliberation.[3]