Читать книгу A Review of the Systems of Ethics Founded on the Theory of Evolution - Cora May Williams - Страница 19

The last two chapters of "The Data of Ethics" deal with Ethics as the law of the ideal man in an ideal society, and treat of the attainment of general principles in this science as in other sciences by the neglect of conflicting factors, and the recognition of fundamental factors, in the gradually accumulated knowledge of society. On account of the diversity of men and societies, a code of perfect personal conduct can never be made definite; only certain general conditions of perfection can be pointed out. As life is now carried on, the conflict of claims is continual; and ethical science, here necessarily empirical, can do no more than aid in making least objectionable compromises. Absolute Ethics, which supplies the law of perfect right-doing possible only in an ideal state, does not greatly aid Relative Ethics, yet it aids somewhat, as keeping before consciousness an ideal conciliation of claims, and suggesting search for the best form of compromise possible under the circumstances.

"Justice," which constitutes Part IV. of "The Principles of Ethics," and to which "The Data of Ethics" belongs as Part I., was published (1891) in advance of Parts II. and III. The argument of the book runs as follows:—

Ethics properly involves a consideration of the conduct of animals as well as of human beings, for the primary subject-matter of Ethics is conduct considered as producing good and bad results to self or others, or both, not, as most people believe, conduct as calling forth approbation or disapprobation. And even on this latter view, Ethics includes Animal Ethics, since we feel approbation or disapprobation with regard to many actions of animals.

Animal Ethics includes, as its two cardinal principles, the opposed classes of altruistic and egoistic acts. For preservation of the species, benefits received must be, during immaturity, inversely proportionate to merit or capacities possessed, merit being measured by powers of self-sustentation, and after maturity, directly proportionate to worth as measured by fitness to the conditions of existence. Furthermore, though the species is made up of individuals, many of these individuals may disappear and the species still be preserved, whereas its disappearance as a whole involves absolute failure in achieving the end, so that, where preservation of individuals conflicts with preservation of the species, the individuals must be sacrificed.

The principle that among adults benefits must be in proportion to merits, implies in its biological aspect survival of the fittest. Its violation involves double harm to the species by sacrifice of the superior to the inferior, and consequent increase of the inferior. "Interpreted in ethical terms, it is that each individual ought to be subject to the effects of its own nature and resulting conduct"; and throughout sub-human life this rule holds without qualification. The same principle is displayed in the mutual relations of the parts of organisms, every part being nourished in proportion to its use or function, a balancing of the relative powers of the parts being thus effected, and the organism "fitted as a whole to its existence by having its parts continuously proportioned to the requirements." In a parallel manner, the species as a whole is fitted to its environment by the greater prosperity to self and offspring that comes to those better adapted.

But sub-human justice is extremely imperfect, alike in general and in detail.

In general it is imperfect, in that the sustentation of multitudinous species depends on the wholesale destruction of others; so that, in the species serving as prey, the relations between conduct and consequence are so habitually broken that in very few individuals are they long maintained. It is true the destruction of the species serving as prey is the result of their natures; "but this violent ending of the immense majority implies that the species is one in which justice, as above conceived, is displayed in but small measure." Sub-human justice is also imperfect in detail, in that the relation between conduct and consequences is, in such an immense proportion of cases, broken by accidents—such as scarcity of food, inclemencies of weather, invasions by parasites, attacks of enemies—which fall indiscriminately on the superior and the inferior. As organization becomes higher, sub-human justice becomes more decided; as general superiority increases, there is less dependence on accident, and individual differences become more important.

With the beginning of gregariousness, we find the new element of coöperation, passive or active, which is an advantage to the species. This involves so much restraint of conflicting acts as will leave a balance of advantage; else survival of the fittest will exterminate the variety in which association begins. The experience of the evils of not maintaining such limits to action results in an inherited tendency to maintain them. The general consciousness of the need for maintaining them results in punishment of their disregard. Self-subordination among solitary animals is found only in parenthood; among gregarious animals there is a further subjection of the individual to his kind, and where an occasional sacrifice of life furthers the preservation of species, sub-human justice may rightly have this second limitation.

In order of priority, the law of relation between conduct and consequence, the principle that each individual ought to receive the good and evil resulting from his own nature, stands first; it is the primary law holding of all creatures. The law of the restraint, in gregarious animals, of interfering acts, is second in time and authority, and is simply a specification of the form which the primary law takes under conditions of gregarious life, since, in asserting restriction of the interactions of conduct and consequence, it tacitly reasserts that these interactions must be maintained in other individuals, that is, in all individuals. The third law, of the occasional sacrifice of individuals to their kind, is later and narrower in application, and a qualification of the first law. The first law is absolute for animals in general; the second is absolute for gregarious animals; but the third "is relative to the existence of enemies of such kinds that, in contending with them, the species gains more than it loses by the sacrifice of a few members; and in the absence of such enemies this qualification imposed by the third law disappears."

As human life is a development of sub-human life, so human justice is a development of sub-human justice. According to pure justice, the individual should suffer the consequences of his acts, and that such is the general opinion is implied in such common expressions as: "He has no one to blame but himself"; "He has made his own bed, and now he must lie on it"; "He has got no more than he deserved"; or, "He has fairly earned his reward."

The truth that, with higher organization, danger from accident becomes less, longevity is greater, and so differences count for more, showing their effects for longer periods, and justice therefore becomes greater, applies also to human beings. The rate of mortality decreases with man, and according to his civilization.

More clearly in the case of human beings than in that of other animals is it shown that gregariousness establishes itself because it profits the variety. Where a variety live on wild food, they associate only in small groups; game and fruit, widely distributed, can support these only. "But greater gregariousness arises where agriculture makes possible the support of a large number on a small area; and where the accompanying development of industries introduces many and various coöperations." The advantages of coöperation can be had only by conformity to the conditions which association imposes—by such limitation of the pursuits of individuals as to leave a surplus of advantage to associated life. "This truth is illustrated by the unprosperous or decaying state of communities in which the trespasses of individuals on one another are so numerous and great as generally to prevent them from severally receiving the normal results of their labors." Mutual restraint being more imperative with human beings than with animals, there is with them a still more marked habit of punishment.

"Through all which sets of facts is manifested the truth, recognized practically if not theoretically, that each individual, carrying on the actions which subserve his life, and not prevented from receiving their normal results, good and bad, shall carry on these actions under such restraints as are imposed by the carrying on of kindred actions by other individuals, who have similarly to receive such normal results, good and bad. And vaguely, if not definitely, this is seen to constitute what is called justice."

In the highest gregarious creature, the necessity which we found, of an occasional sacrifice of the individual in defence of species, assumes large proportions, the defence being not only against enemies of other kinds, but also against enemies of the same kind. This obligation is less than that of care for offspring, or mutual restraint. It exists only as necessary to protect the society against destruction, hence only for defensive, not for offensive, war. It may be objected that war peoples the earth with the stronger, but this is not necessarily so, since the conquered may merely be fewer in number. And further, it is only during the earlier stages of human progress that the development of strength, courage, and cunning are of chief importance. But for an accident, Persia would have conquered Greece; and Tartar hordes once very nearly overwhelmed European civilization. The races best fitted for social life do not necessarily conquer, and there are injurious moral reactions on both conquering and conquered. Only defensive war retains a quasi-ethical justification. It belongs, however, to a transitional state, and is not justified by Absolute Ethics.

As the organs of inferior animals are moulded into fitness for the requirements of life, so, simultaneously, through nervous modifications, their sensations, instincts, emotions, and intellectual aptitudes are also moulded to these requirements—in the gregarious animals to the conditions of gregarious life. Many evolutionists appear to regard the variability of man as ceasing with civilized life, but the whole analogy of nature is against such a theory; we must assume that man, like other animals, is moulded to suit his requirements, and that moral changes are among those thus wrought out. Aggressive actions often entail suffering on the individuals of a group performing them, as well as on the group as a whole, and on the other hand, harmonious coöperation in a group profits the average of its members; so that there is a tendency to survival of groups having such adaptation of nature. And just as a love of property, formerly gratified by possession of food and shelter, came later to be extended to the weapons for obtaining these, and, later, even to the raw materials, the pleasure in ownership becoming more and more abstract and remote from material satisfaction, so the natural impatience of animal nature at restraint of its powers becomes in man a sentiment of egoistic justice, for justice requires the free play of all forces in order that the results of character may fall upon the individual. It is more difficult to understand how the altruistic sentiment of justice comes into being. On one hand, its implication is that it can be developed only by adaptation to social life; on the other, it appears that social life is impossible without the maintenance of those equitable relations which imply a sentiment of justice. These requirements are fulfilled by a pro-altruistic sentiment of justice, which takes its place. The first deterrent from aggression, among animals, is fear of retaliation; a further restraint, with man, is fear of reprobation or social disgrace. To these are to be added the feelings arising under political and religious authority—the dread of legal punishment and the dread of divine vengeance; and these four kinds of feelings coöperate, forming a body of feeling, which checks the primitive tendency to pursue the objects of desire without regard to the interests of fellow-men, and though containing nothing of the altruistic sentiment of justice, makes social coöperation possible. Creatures which become gregarious, tend to become sympathetic in degrees proportionate to their intelligence—by sympathy being meant the arousing of kindred feeling by the witness of a display of feeling in others, sympathy being fostered by common enjoyments and sufferings. The altruistic sentiment of justice is slow in assuming a high form, "partly because its primary component does not become highly developed until a late phase of progress, partly because it is relatively complex, and partly because it implies a stretch of imagination not possible for low intelligences." As, until pain has been felt, there cannot be sympathy with pain, so the altruistic sentiment of justice cannot be developed until the egoistic sentiment has arisen; moreover, the sentiment of justice is concerned, not only with concrete pains and pleasures, but also with their conditions, and hence this sentiment demands a development of the power of mental representation.

There is a close connection between the sentiment of justice and the social type. Predominant militancy affords no scope for the egoistic sentiment of justice, and at the same time sympathy is perpetually seared by militant activities. On the other hand, as fast as voluntary coöperation, which characterizes the industrial type of society, becomes more general than compulsory coöperation, which characterizes the militant type of society, individual activities become less restrained, and the sentiment which rejoices in the scope for them is encouraged; while simultaneously, the occasions for repressing the sympathies become less frequent.

The idea of justice is different from the mere sentiment of justice; the former gradually arising from the latter, in the course of generations, by experience of the limits to which action can be carried without causing resentment from others. But since the kinds of activity are many and become increasingly various with the development of social life, it is a long time before the general nature of the limit common to all cases can be conceived. A further reason for the slowness of development is, that the arising ideas of justice have been perpetually confused by the conflicting requirements of internal amity and external enmity.

Two elements, a positive and a negative, constitute the idea of justice—that of man's recognition of his claims to unimpeded activities and the results they bring, and that of the limits which the presence of other men necessitate. The primordial ideal suggested is inequality, for since the principal is that each should receive the results due to his own nature, then, since men differ in their powers, unequal benefits are implied. But mutual limitations suggest a contrary idea, experience showing that the bounds to which one may pursue his own ends are, on the average, the same for all, so that the idea of equality arises. Unbalanced appreciations of these two factors in human justice lead to divergent moral and social theories.

Among the rudest men the appreciations are no higher than among inferior gregarious animals. Where war has developed political organization the idea of inequality predominates, but the idea is one, not of natural, but of artificial apportionment. And in general, we find that the primary or brute factor in justice is but little qualified by the human factor.

All movements are rhythmical, social movements included, and after the idea of justice in which inequality predominates comes a conception in which the idea of equality unduly predominates—as in Bentham's ethical theory, where "one person's happiness, supposed equal in degree (with proper allowance made for kind), is accounted for exactly as much as another's"; and this is the theory which Communism would reduce to practice. It is an absolute denial of the principle of inequality, and must apply alike to the worthy and unworthy, as well as to the superior and inferior in physical and intellectual capacities, since moral inequalities are as much inherited as others. Here we have a deliberate abolition of that cardinal distinction between the ethics of the family and the ethics of the state emphasized at the outset—"an abolition which, as we saw, must eventuate in decay and disappearance of the species or variety in which it takes place."

The true principle shows an amalgamation of these two. "The equality concerns the mutually limited spheres of action which must be maintained if associated men are to coöperate harmoniously. The inequality concerns the results which each may achieve by carrying on his actions within the implied limits. No incongruity exists when the ideas of equality and inequality are applied, the one to the bounds and the other to the benefits. Contrariwise, the two may be, and must be, simultaneously asserted."

"Any considerable acceptance of so definite an idea of justice is not to be expected. It is an idea appropriate to an ultimate state, and can be but partially entertained during transitional states; for the prevailing ideas must, on the average, be congruous with existing institutions and activities." During the thirty, or rather forty years' peace, and weakening of militant organization, the idea of justice became clearer; but since then the idea of regimentation has spread. It is predominant in the conception of socialism with its army of workers with appointed tasks and apportioned shares of products, and every act of Parliament which takes money from the individual for public purposes shows a tendency in the same direction. In the countries where militancy is most pronounced, socialism is most highly developed. "Sympathy, which, a generation ago, was taking the shape of justice, is relapsing into generosity; and the generosity is exercised by inflicting injustice. Daily legislation betrays little anxiety that each shall have that which belongs to him, but great anxiety that he shall have that which belongs to somebody else."

The formula of justice may be expressed thus: "Every man is free to do that which he wills, provided he infringes not the equal freedom of any other man."

This is not to be interpreted as meaning that aggression is permissible as long as retaliation is permitted; for the formula means that interference with another's life is limited, that life shall not be impeded in one case further than is necessary to the maintenance of other lives; it does not countenance a superfluous interference on the ground that an equal interference may balance it. In earlier stages, the conception of justice was this erroneous one of a balancing of injuries—an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. By oscillations which become gradually less, social equilibrium is approached; and with this approach to equilibrium comes approach to a definite theory of equilibrium.

In the reigning school of politics and morals, scorn is expressed for every doctrine which implies restraint of immediate expediency, or what appears to be such;—contempt for generalizations and abstract principles, with unlimited faith in political machinery. Strangely enough, we find this approval of political empiricism and disbelief in any other guidance, in the world of science also. The accepted scientific fact that causation holds of the actions of incorporated men as of other parts of nature, remains a dead letter; there is no attempt to identify the causation, and ridicule is visited upon those who endeavor to find a definite expression for the fundamental principle of harmonious social order.

Peoples with whom confusion is not caused by the conflicting disciplines of outer war and internal peace, early arrive at the principle of equity, and accordingly some uncivilized tribes show a stronger sense of it than is found among civilized peoples. Nevertheless, the conception of justice has slowly evolved to some extent, and is expressed in such formulæ as, "Do unto others as ye would that others should do unto you" (too sweeping a statement of the equality of claims, since it implies no recognition of the inequality necessary in the shares of good respectively appropriate), or in the Kantian rule, which is an allotropic form of the Christian rule. Jurists, too, have recognized a natural law of equity underlying human law. To the reproach that belief in such a law is an a priori belief, it may be answered that a priori beliefs are explained by the theory of evolution, as arising with determination of the nervous system and certain resulting necessities of thought, and that they differ from a posteriori beliefs merely in the circumstance "that they are the products of the experiences of innumerable successive individuals, instead of the experiences of a single individual." If we ask for the ground of the greatest happiness principle, we come to an a priori belief also; for whence is the postulate? If it is an induction, where and by whom has the induction been drawn; and if it is a truth of experience derived from careful observation, then what are the observations, and when was there generalized that vast mass of them on which all politics and morals should be built? "Not only are there no such experiences, no such observations, no such inductions, but it is impossible that any should be assigned." The like is true of Bentham's rule: "Everybody to count for one, nobody for more than one," and also of the objection to this rule, that happiness cannot be divided, or greatest happiness obtained, by equal division of the means to happiness; they all lead, in the last analysis, to an a priori belief. Moreover, the rule of natural equity, the freedom of each limited only by the like freedom of all, is not an exclusively a priori belief, but although the immediate dictum of the human consciousness after subjection to the discipline of prolonged social life, it is deducible from the conditions to be fulfilled, firstly for the maintenance of life at large, and secondly for the maintenance of social life.

Rights, properly so-called, are corollaries from the law of equal freedom, and "so far is it from its being true, as some claim, that the warrant for what are properly called rights is derived from law, it is, conversely, true that law derives its warrant from them."

In the application of this theory to practical questions, Mr. Spencer's "Justice" differs from "Social Statics," which it resembles in form and method, in general in the greatly increased conservatism of the views expressed. This is shown in all parts of the book, though perhaps most clearly in those parts relating to the Rights of Women, to the Land Question, and to the Limits of State-Duties. "Social Statics" advocated land-nationalization; but "Justice," though still asserting the original right of the aggregate of men forming the community to the use of the earth, as that from which all material objects capable of being owned are derived and so that on which the right to property is originally dependent, denies the expediency and the justice of a present redistribution of the land according to this principle; and this because of the confusion of claims at the present time, the impossibility of ascertaining whose ancestors were the robbers and whose the robbed in the gradually arising monopoly, the wrong of making descendants responsible for the sins of their ancestors, and leaving those now dependent on the land without compensation for their loss, and the fact that any claim to the land is merely a claim to it in its original condition, not in its present state of drainage and cultivation effected by the labor of generations. Moreover, "under the existing system of ownership, those who manage the land experience a direct connection between effort and benefit, while, were it under state-ownership, those who managed it would experience no such direct connection. The vices of officialism would inevitably entail immense evils."

The whole of the practical part of "Justice" is especially directed against Socialism; in general, the course of history shows a less and less interference with personal freedom, and growing benefit from this cause. The practicality of woman suffrage and of universal man suffrage at the present time is denied. If earlier legislation was too much for the benefit of wealthy and ruling classes, recent extensions of the suffrage have resulted in still more injurious class-legislation of another sort.

In this book, Mr. Spencer seems to adhere to his theory of a "final perfect adaptation to the conditions of social life." Not only is the distinction between Relative and Absolute Ethics still drawn, but there are numerous references to an "ultimate state," though certain of these references might suggest the view that by such a state was meant only the attainment of so great a degree of civilization as would involve the cessation of wars.[49] Other passages, however, seem to contradict this view. One may be especially cited; it is as follows: "This law [of the gradual reëstablishment of deranged harmony, through adaptation and heredity], holding of human beings among others, implies that the nature which we inherit from an uncivilized past, and which is still very imperfectly fitted to the partially-civilized present, will, if allowed to do so, slowly adjust itself to the requirements of a fully-civilized future." And after some consideration of adaptation up to the present time, the paragraph concludes: "If, in the course of these few thousand years, the discipline of social life has done so much, it is folly to suppose that it cannot do more—folly to suppose that it will not, in course of time, do all that has to be done."[50] But in the abridged and revised edition of "Social Statics" (1892), the following passage occurs as part of a note at the end of the chapter on "The Evanescence (? Diminution) of Evil." "The rate of progress towards any adapted form must diminish with the approach to complete adaptation, since the force producing it must diminish; so that other causes apart, perfect adaptation can be reached only in infinite time."[51]

Vol. I. of "The Principles of Ethics," including Parts I., II., and III., appeared in August, 1892. In this volume, "The Data of Ethics," reprinted as Part I., remains unchanged, except for one or two unimportant sentences. To this Part I. is, however, appended a chapter which was, according to Mr. Spencer, written for the first publication of "The Data of Ethics," but was either put aside for some reason, or else overlooked, probably the latter, says the author, since it contains material which should have been embodied. The chapter is headed "The Conciliation," and seems to correspond to the two chapters on "Trial and Compromise" and "Conciliation" which follow the chapters on "Egoism versus Altruism," and "Altruism versus Egoism"; for it begins with a consideration of the conflict of claims shown by "the last two chapters," the apparent impossibility of the establishment of an equilibrium, and the consequent apparent necessity of self-sacrifice. But this conflict between egoism and altruism is merely transitional and is in process of gradual disappearance, in the same manner in which the present degree of conciliation of the two has been reached—namely, by the growth of such a constitution in each creature as entails pleasure in altruistic action. Even with the lower animals, the acts which are necessary to care for ova or young are the fulfilment of an instinct which is gratified by the act; and in the human race, conciliation between egoism and altruism, which goes hand in hand with evolution, has reached a high degree. In the evolution of the human race itself, from savagery to its present condition, there has been a marked increase of this conciliation; this is true not only in the family, but to a small extent also with regard to the larger groups of men constituting societies. There is decrease of cruelty, increase of justice, both in the form of state institutions and in their methods of administration, more active benevolence, and a public sentiment that leads large numbers of people to find egoistic gratification in the pursuit of the general good even to the neglect of private interests. Self-sacrifice thus ceases to be sacrifice in the ordinary sense of the word, since it comes to bring with it more pleasure than pain. The future must hold in store changes analogous to those of the past, but these must go on much more rapidly under the present comparatively peaceful organization of society than they have during the militant life of the past. This moral development is retarded, however, not only by the degree of militancy yet existing, but also by the necessity for a certain degree of bluntness of feeling, too great sensitiveness to the suffering of others entailing, while the pressure of population is as great as at present, a misery that would make life intolerable. It is likely that, with social progress, human fertility will decrease as cerebral activity increases, until a comparative balance of fertility and mortality is reached as "human evolution approaches its limit of complete adaptation to the social state"; and sympathy will increase in proportion, no longer entailing on its possessor more of pain than of pleasure, but the contrary. "Sympathy is the root of every other kind of altruism than that which, from the beginning, originates the parental activities. It is the root of that higher altruism which, apart from the philoprogenitive instinct, produces desire for the happiness of others and reluctance to inflict pain upon them. These two traits are inevitably associated. The same mental faculty which reproduces in the individual consciousness the feelings that are being displayed by other beings, acts equally to reproduce those states when they are pleasurable or when they are painful."

The general corollary from the above-described process of evolution is that, with the increase of sympathy there arises the double result, that by its increase it tends to decrease the causes of human misery, and in proportion as it does this, it becomes itself the cause of further reflected happiness received by each from others. "And the limit towards which this evolution approaches is one under which, as the amount of pain suffered by those around from individual imperfections and from imperfections of social arrangement and conduct, becomes relatively small, and simultaneously the growth of sympathy goes on with little check, the sympathy becomes at the same time almost exclusively a source of pleasure received from the happiness of others, and not of pains received from their pains. And as this condition is approached, the function of sympathy is not that of stimulating to self-sacrifice and of entailing upon its possessor positive or negative pain, but its function becomes that of making him a recipient of positive pleasure." Thus altruism will overgrow egoism, becoming itself a source of egoistic pleasure, and eventually, with the diminution of the pressure of population, there will come a state in which egoism and altruism are so conciliated that the one merges in the other.

Among the social animals, with the ant and the bee, for instance, who cannot be supposed to possess a sense of duty, we see that this identification of egoism and altruism, as necessary to social life, has taken place to a considerable extent; and since pleasure of every kind is the concomitant of nervous structure, we can understand the pleasure in altruistic as well as in egoistic activities, as soon as there exists the nervous structure answering to these activities. As certainly as there yet exist in civilized men instincts of the chase inherited from savage ancestors, there are growing up and will continue to grow up in men, these other structures which will prompt to altruistic activities.

Part II. of "The Principles of Ethics" is concerned with "The Inductions of Ethics." It opens with a chapter on the confusion of ethical thought due to the fact that, conforming to the general law of evolution, "the set of conceptions constituting ethics, together with the associated sentiments, arise out of a relatively incoherent and indefinite consciousness; and slowly acquire coherence and definiteness at the same time that the aggregate of them differentiates from the larger aggregate with which it originally mingled. Long remaining undistinguished, and then but vaguely discernible as something independent, ethics must be expected to acquire a distinct embodiment only when mental evolution has reached a high stage." "Originally, ethics has no existence apart from religion, which holds it in solution. Religion itself, in its earliest form, is undistinguished from ancestor-worship," which passes, in the second stage, into worship of dead rulers, and is a method of propitiation, prompted by self-interest. Among some peoples, the idea of sin is limited to offences against the gods; and in those other cases where there are ethical commands, the propriety of not offending God is the primary reason given for obeying them. This last phase of thought is illustrated by the religion of the Hebrews, among whom good and bad conduct was but little associated with the intrinsic natures of right and wrong. The popular belief is still that right and wrong become such by divine fiat.

The gods of primitive, warlike peoples were gods of war, and the belief in the moral virtue and honor of war still holds large place in the thought of the world. The ethics of enmity, thus taught at the same time with the ethics of amity necessary to the internal life of society, gave rise to utterly inconsistent and contradictory sentiments and ideas, which, in considerable measure, still exist side by side, in our churches and outside them.

But, together with these ethical conceptions, there have slowly evolved other, utilitarian conceptions, derived from a recognition of the natural consequences of acts. Authority has been introduced into these conceptions as the source of the duty of action in accordance with them; yet there has generally been also some perception of their fitness. Such utilitarian conceptions are to be found in the later Hebrew writings, among the Egyptians, Greeks, etc. "The divergence of expediency-ethics from theological ethics is well illustrated in Paley, who in his official character derived right and wrong from divine commands, and in his unofficial character derived them from observation of consequences. Since his day, the last of these views has spread at the expense of the first."

A still further simultaneous origin of moral dictates is found in the sentiments which have arisen with such habits of conformity to rules of conduct as have been furthered by survival of the fittest. We thus have a conflict of ethical ideas arising from the conflict of these various sanctions; and also from the further conflict that ensues where a later religion has been grafted on a more primitive one, as is the case everywhere in Christendom.

Among modern writers who assert the existence of a moral sense, there is a division between those who regard the dicta of conscience as supreme, and those who hold them to be subordinate to divine commands. The two are agreed in so far as they regard conscience as having a supernatural origin; and, in that they both recognize the moral sentiment as innate and suppose human nature to be everywhere the same, they are also, by implication, alike in supposing that the moral sentiment is identical in all men.

But as a matter of fact, the moral sentiment is connected with entirely different rules among different peoples, prescribing monogamy among one people, polygamy among another; demanding faithfulness and chastity on the part of women among one people, encouraging adultery among another, etc.

Common elements in all codes of rules for conduct are the consciousness of authority, whether that of a God, of a ruler or government, or of conscience, the more or less definite sense of power or coercion on the part of this authority, and the representation of public opinion. These elements, combined in different proportions, result in an idea and a feeling of obligation, forming a body of thought and feeling which may be termed pro-ethical, and which, with the mass of mankind, stands in place of the ethical.

"For now let us observe that the ethical sentiment and idea, properly so-called, are independent of the ideas and sentiments above described as derived from external authorities, and coercions, and approbations—religious, political, or social. The true moral consciousness which we name conscience does not refer to those extrinsic results of conduct which take the shape of praise or blame, reward or punishment, externally awarded; but it refers to the intrinsic results of conduct which in part and by some intellectually perceived, are mainly and by most intuitively felt. The moral consciousness proper does not contemplate obligations as artificially imposed by an external power; nor is it chiefly occupied with estimates of the amounts of pleasure and pain which given actions may produce, though these may be clearly or dimly perceived; but it is chiefly occupied with recognition of, and regard for, those conditions by fulfilment of which happiness is achieved or misery avoided." It may or may not be in harmony with the pro-ethical sentiment; but in any case it is "vaguely or distinctly recognized as the rightful ruler, responding as it does to consequences which are not artificial and variable, but to consequences which are natural and permanent." With the established supremacy of this ethical sentiment, the feeling of obligation retires into the background, right actions being performed "spontaneously or from liking." "Though, while the moral nature is imperfectly developed, there may often arise conformity to the ethical sentiment under a sense of compulsion by it; and though, in other cases, non-conformity to it may cause subsequent self-reproach (as instance a remembered lack of gratitude, which may be a source of pain without there being any thought of extrinsic penalty); yet with a moral nature completely balanced, neither of these feelings will arise, because that which is done is done in satisfaction of the appropriate desire."

Where the really ethical sentiment conflicts with the factitious idea and sentiment of obedience to legal authority, the latter may rule at the expense of the former, as, for instance, in the case of a pedler condemned for selling without a license. "His act of selling is morally justifiable, and forbidding him to sell without a license is morally unjustifiable—is an interference with his due liberty which is ethically unwarranted."

The remainder of Part II. of the "Principles of Ethics" is occupied with data cited to show that the amount of internal aggression, of revenge and robbery, is greater among peoples much occupied with external aggression, and that these decrease, while justice, generosity (which Mr. Spencer defines as having a double root, in the philoprogenitive instinct and the relatively modern feeling of sympathy), humanity (including kindness, pity, mercy), filial obedience, and industry, increase as more peaceful habits are reached. A greater veracity is also indirectly the result of this evolution, since a coercive internal structure of society is connected with external enmity, and such coercive structure is unfavorable to veracity. Chastity also increases with the social evolution, though it does not necessarily characterize societies of the non-militant type. Its increase is connected with the growth of the higher moral and æsthetic feelings; romantic love plays a predominant part in our art. Intemperance, as causing, indirectly, social evil by a lowering of social efficiency, must, in like manner, decrease with social advancement.

In summing up his inductions, Spencer says: "Though, as shown in my first work, 'Social Statics,' I once espoused the doctrine of the intuitive moralists, … yet it has gradually become clear to me that the qualifications required practically obliterate the doctrine as enunciated by them. It has become clear to me that if, among ourselves, the current belief is that a man who robs and does not repent will be eternally damned, while an accepted proverb among the Bilochs is, that 'God will not favor a man who does not steal and rob'; it is impossible to hold that men have in common an innate perception of right and wrong.

"But now, while we are shown that the moral sense doctrine in its original form is not true, we are also shown that it adumbrates a truth, and a much higher truth. For the facts cited … unite in proving that the sentiments and ideas current in each society become adjusted to the kinds of activity predominating in it. … If the life of internal amity continues unbroken from generation to generation, there must result not only the appropriate code, but the appropriate emotional nature. … Men so conditioned will acquire, to the degree needful for complete guidance, that innate conscience which intuitive moralists erroneously suppose to be possessed by mankind at large. There needs but a continuance of absolute peace externally, and a rigorous insistance on non-aggression internally, to insure the moulding of men into a form naturally characterized by all the virtues." Complete exemption from war has already been attained by some few isolated peoples. "May we not reasonably infer that the state reached by these small uncultured tribes may be reached by the great cultured nations, when the life of internal amity shall be unqualified by the life of external enmity?"

Part III. of the "Principles of Ethics" is occupied with practical considerations concerning "The Ethics of Individual Life," under the headings "Activity," "Rest," "Nutrition," "Stimulation," "Culture," "Amusements," "Marriage," "Parenthood." Of the general ethical relation of the individual to society, Spencer says:—"Integration being the primary process of evolution, we may expect that the aggregate of conceptions constituting ethics enlarges at the same time that its components acquire heterogeneity, definiteness, and that kind of cohesion which system gives to them. As fulfilling this expectation, we may first note that while drawing within its range of judgment numerous actions of men towards one another which at first were not recognized as right or wrong, it finally takes into its sphere the various divisions of private conduct—those actions of each individual which directly concern himself only, and in but remote ways concern his fellows."

Ethics has been commonly regarded as merely a system of interdicts on certain kinds of acts which men would like to do and of injunctions to perform certain acts which they would like not to do. It says nothing about the great mass of acts constituting normal life, though these have their ethical aspect. The pleasurable has been too often regarded as outside the legitimate sphere of ethical approval, where not directly the rightful subject of ethical disapproval. But pleasure is an accompaniment of vitality, and furthers the vital activities; and if the general happiness is to be the aim of action, then the happiness of each unit is a fit aim; and there is unquestionably "a division of ethics which yields sanction to all the normal actions of individual life, while it forbids the abnormal ones." There is an altruistic as well as an egoistic justification of the care for self, since the health of descendants and the ability to provide for offspring is directly concerned; and since such care is needful to exclude the risk of becoming a burden to others. And there is a further positive justification of egoism which results from the obligation to expend some effort for others, and to become, as far as possible, a source of social pleasure to others.

It will be seen, from the above analysis, that the chapter appended to Part I. still speaks of an ultimate state of complete adjustment to social life[52]; this chapter was, however, published from the original MS. without alteration. Some passages in Part II. seem to involve the same idea of a possible complete attainment of the ethical end,[53] but Part III. closes with reference to "an approximately complete adjustment of the nature to the life which has to be led."