John Dewey's logical theory

by Delton Thomas Howard

CHAPTER III "MORAL THEORY AND PRACTICE"

Dewey's ethical theory, as has already been indicated, stands in close relation to his general theory of knowledge. Since it has been found expedient to treat the ethical theory separately, it will be necessary to go back some two years and trace it from its beginnings. The order of arrangement that has been chosen is fortunate in this respect, since it brings into close connection two articles which are really companion pieces, in spite of the two-year interval which separates them. These are "The Superstition of Necessity," which was considered at the close of the last chapter, and "Moral Theory and Practice," an article published in The International Journal of Ethics, in January, 1891.[75] This latter article, now to be examined, is one of Dewey's first serious undertakings in the field of ethical theory, and probably represents some of the results of his study in connection with his text-book, Outlines of a Critical Theory of Ethics, published in the same year (1891).

The immediate occasion for the article is explained by Dewey in his introductory remarks: "In the first number of this journal four writers touch upon the same question,—the relation of moral theory to moral practice."[76] The four writers mentioned were Sidgwick, Adler, Bosanquet, and Salter. None of them, according to Dewey, had directly discussed the relation of moral theory to practice. "But," he says, "finding the subject touched upon ... in so many ways, I was led to attempt to clear up my own ideas."[77]

There seems to exist, Dewey continues, "the idea that moral theory is something other than, or something beyond, an analysis of conduct,—the idea that it is not simply and wholly 'the theory of practice.'"[78] It is often defined, for instance, as an inquiry into the metaphysics of morals, which has nothing to do with practice. But, Dewey believes, there must be some intrinsic connection between the theory of morals and moral practice. Such intrinsic connection may be denied on the ground that practice existed long before theory made its appearance. Codes of morality were in existence before Plato, Kant, or Spencer rose to speculate upon them. This raises the question, What is theory?

Moral theory is nothing more than a proposed act in idea. It is insight, or perception of the relations and bearings of the contemplated act. "It is all one with moral insight, and moral insight is the recognition of the relationships in hand. This is a very tame and prosaic conception. It makes moral insight, and therefore moral theory, consist simply in the everyday workings of the same ordinary intelligence that measures drygoods, drives nails, sells wheat, and invents the telephone."[79] The nature of theory as idea is more definitely described. "It is the construction of the act in thought against its outward construction. It is, therefore, the doing,—the act itself, in its emerging."[80]

Theory is practice in idea, or as foreseen; it is the perception of what ought to be done. This, at least, is what moral theory is. Dewey's demand that fact and theory must have some intrinsic connection, unsatisfied in the articles reviewed in the previous chapter, is met here by discovering a connecting link in action. Theory is "the doing,—the act itself in its emerging." The reduction of thought to terms of action, here implied, is a serious step. It marks a new tendency in Dewey's speculation. Dewey does not claim, in the present article, that his remarks hold good for all theory. "Physical science," he remarks, "does deal with abstractions, with hypothesis. It says, 'If this, then that.' It deals with the relations of conditions and not with facts, or individuals, at all. It says, 'I have nothing to do with your concrete falling stone, but I can tell you this, that it is a law of falling bodies that, etc.'"[81] But moral theory is compelled to deal with concrete situations. It must be a theory which can be applied directly to the particular case. Moral theory cannot exist simply in a book. Since, moreover, there is no such thing as theory in the abstract, there can be no abstract theory of morals.

There can be no difficulty, Dewey believes, in understanding moral theory as action in idea. All action that is intelligent, all conduct, that is, involves theory. "For any act (as distinct from mere impulse) there must be 'theory,' and the wider the act, the greater its import, the more exigent the demand for theory."[82] This does not, however, answer the question how any particular moral theory, the Kantian, the Hedonistic, or the Hegelian, is related to action. These systems present, not 'moral ideas' as explained above, but 'ideas about morality.' What relation have ideas about morality to specific moral conduct?

The answer to this question is to be obtained through an understanding of the nature of the moral situation. If an act is moral, it must be intelligent; as moral conduct, it implies insight into the situation at hand. This insight is obtained by an examination and analysis of the concrete situation. "This is evidently a work of analysis. Like every analysis, it requires that the one making it be in possession of certain working tools. I cannot resolve this practical situation which faces me by merely looking at it. I must attack it with such instruments of analysis as I have at hand. What we call moral rules are precisely such tools of analysis."[83] The Golden Rule is such an instrument of analysis. Taken by itself, it offers no direct information as to what is to be done. "The rule is a counsel of perfection; it is a warning that in my analysis of the moral situation (that is, of the conditions of practice) I be impartial as to the effects on me and thee.'"[84] Every rule which is of any use at all is employed in a similar fashion.

But this is not, so far, a statement of the nature of moral theory, since only particular rules have been considered. Ethical theory, in its wider significance, is a reflective process in which, as one might say, the 'tools of analysis' are shaped and adapted to their work. These rules are not fixed things, made once and for all, but of such a nature that they preserve their effectiveness only as they are constantly renewed and reshaped. Ethical theory brings the Golden Rule together with other general ideas, conforms them to each other, and in this way gives the moral rule a great scope in practice. All moral theory, therefore, is finally linked up with practice. "It bears much the same relation to the particular rule as this to the special case. It is a tool for the analysis of its meaning, and thereby a tool for giving it greater effect."[85] In ethical theory we find moral rules in the making. Ideas about morals are simply moral ideas in the course of being formed.

Dewey presents here an instrumental theory of knowledge and concepts. But it differs widely from the instrumentalism of the Neo-Hegelian school both in its form and derivation. Dewey reaches his instrumentalism through a psychological analysis of the judgment process. He finds that theory is related to fact through action, and since he had been unable to give a concrete account of this relationship at a previous time, the conclusion may be regarded as a discovery of considerable moment for his philosophical method. Dewey's instrumentalism rests upon a very special psychological interpretation, which puts action first and thought second. Unable to discover an overt connection between fact and thought, he delves underground for it, and finds it in the activities of the nervous organism. This discovery, he believes, solves once and for all the ancient riddle of the relation of thought to reality.

In the concluding part of the article Dewey takes up the consideration of moral obligation. "What is the relation of knowledge, of theory, to that Ought which seems to be the very essence of moral conduct?"[86] The answer anticipates in some measure the position which was taken later, as has been seen, in regard to necessity. The concept of obligation, like that of necessity, Dewey believes, has relevance only for the judgment situation. "But," Dewey says, "limiting the question as best I can, I should say (first) that the 'ought' always rises from and falls back into the 'is,' and (secondly) that the 'ought' is itself an 'is,'—the 'is' of action."[87] Obligation is not something added to the conclusion of a judgment, something which gives a moral aspect to what had been a coldly intellectual matter. The 'ought' finds an integral place in the judgment process. "The difference between saying, 'this act is the one to be done, ...' and saying, 'The act ought to be done,' is merely verbal. The analysis of action is from the first an analysis of what is to be done; how, then, should it come out excepting with a 'this should be done'?"[88] The peculiarity of the 'ought' is that it applies to conduct or action, whereas the 'is' applies to the facts. It has reference to doing, or acting, as the situation demands. "This, then, is the relation of moral theory and practice. Theory is the cross-section of the given state of action in order to know the conduct that should be; practice is the realization of the idea thus gained: in is theory in action."[89]

The parallel between this article and "The Superstition of Necessity" is too obvious to require formulation, and the same criticism that applies to the one is applicable to the other. "The Superstition of Necessity" is more detailed and concrete in its treatment of the judgment process than this earlier article, as might be expected, but the fundamental position is essentially the same. The synthetic activity of the self, the thought-process, finally appears as the servant of action, or, more exactly, as itself a special mode of organic activity in general.

From the basis of the standpoint which he had now attained Dewey attempted a criticism of Green's moral theory, in two articles in the Philosophical Review, in 1892 and 1893. The first of these, entitled "Green's Theory of the Moral Motive,"[90] appeared almost two years after the article on "Moral Theory and Practice." The continuity of Dewey's thought during the intervening period, however, is indicated by the fact that the first four pages of the article to be considered are given over to an introductory discussion which repeats in almost identical terms the position taken in "Moral Theory and Practice." Dewey himself calls attention to this fact in a foot-note.

There must be, Dewey again asserts, some vital connection of theory with practice. "Ethical theory must be a general statement of the reality involved in every moral situation. It must be action stated in its more generic terms, terms so generic that every individual action will fall within the outlines it sets forth. If the theory agrees with these requirements, then we have for use in any special case a tool for analyzing that case; a method for attacking and reducing it, for laying it open so that the action called for in order to meet, to satisfy it, may readily appear."[91] Dewey argues that moral theory cannot possibly give directions for every concrete case, but that it by no means follows that theory can stand aside from the specific case and say: "What have I to do with thee? Thou art empirical, and I am the metaphysics of conduct."

Dewey's preliminary remarks are introductory to a consideration of Green's ethical theory. "His theory would, I think," Dewey says, "be commonly regarded as the best of the modern attempts to form a metaphysic of ethic. I wish, using this as type, to point out the inadequacy of such metaphysical theories, on the ground that they fail to meet the demand just made of truly ethical theory, that it lend itself to translation into concrete terms, and thereby to the guidance, the direction of actual conduct."[92] Dewey recognizes that Green is better than his theory, but says that the theory, taken in logical strictness, cannot meet individual needs.

Dewey makes a special demand of Green's theory. He demands, that is, that it supply a body of rules, or guides to action which can be employed by the moral agent as tools of analysis in cases requiring moral judgment. It is evident in advance that Green's theory was built upon a different plan, and can not meet the conditions which Dewey prescribes. The general nature of Green's inquiry is well stated in the following summary by Professor Thilly: "The truth in Green's thought is this: the purpose of all social devotion and reform is, after all, the perfection of man on the spiritual side, the development of men of character and ideals.... The final purpose of all moral endeavor must be the realization of an attitude of the human soul, of some form of noble consciousness in human personalities.... It is well enough to feed and house human bodies, but the paramount question will always be: What kinds of souls are to dwell in these bodies?"[93] To put the matter in more technical terms, Green is concerned with ends and values. His question is not, What is the best means of accomplishing a given purpose, but, What end is worth attaining? Such an inquiry has no immediate relation to action. It may lead to conclusions which become determining factors in action, but the process of inquiry has no direct reference to conduct. Dewey, having reduced thought to a function of activity, must proceed, by logical necessity, to carry the same reduction into the field of theory in general. This he does in thorough style. His demand that moral theory shall concern itself with concrete and 'specific' situations is a result of the same tendency. Since action can only be described as response to a 'situation,' thought, as a function of activity, must likewise be directed upon a 'situation.' Conduct in general and values in general become impossible under his system, because there is no such thing as an activity-in-general of the organism. Ends, in other words, exist only for thought, when thought is interpreted as transcending action, and being, in some sense, self-contained. When thought is interpreted as a kind of 'indirect activity,' its capacity for metaphysical inquiry vanishes along with its independence.

It would have been more in keeping with sound criticism had Dewey himself taken note of the important divergence in aim and intent between his work and Green's. As a consequence of his failure to do so, he fails, necessarily, to do justice to Green's standpoint. The criticism which he directs against Green's moral theory may be briefly summed up as follows.

Green tends to repeat the Kantian separation of the self as reason from the self as want or desire. "The dualism between reason and sense is given up, indeed, but only to be replaced by a dualism between the end which would satisfy the self as a unity or whole, and that which satisfies it in the particular circumstances of actual conduct."[94] As a consequence of the separation of the ideal from the actual, no action can satisfy the whole self, and thus no action can be truly moral. "No thorough-going theory of total depravity ever made righteousness more impossible to the natural man than Green makes it to a human being by the very constitution of his being...."[95] Dewey traces this separation of the self as reason from the self as desire through those passages in which Green describes the moral agent as one who distinguishes himself from his desires (Book II, Prolegomena to Ethics). "The process of moral experience involves, therefore, a process in which the self, in becoming conscious of its want, objectifies that want by setting it over against itself; distinguishing the want from self and self from want.... Now this theory so far might be developed in either of two directions."[96]

In the first place, the self-distinguishing process may be an activity by means of which the self specifies its own activity and satisfaction. "The particular desires and ends would be the modes in which the self relieved itself of its abstractness, its undeveloped character, and assumed concrete existence.... The unity of the self would stand in no opposition to the particularity of the special desire; on the contrary, the unity of the self and the manifold of definite desires would be the synthetic and analytic aspects of one and the same reality, neither having any advantage metaphysical or ethical over the other!"[97] But Green, unfortunately, does not develop his theory in this concrete direction. The self does not specify itself in the particulars, but remains apart from them. "The objectification is not of the self in the special end; but the self remains behind setting the special object over against itself as not adequate to itself.... The unity of the self sets up an ideal of satisfaction for itself as it withdraws from the special want, and this ideal set up through negation of the particular desire and its satisfaction constitutes the moral ideal. It is forever unrealizable, because it forever negates the special activities through which alone it might, after all, realize itself."[98] In completing this argument Dewey refers to certain well-known passages in the Prolegomena to Ethics, in which Green states that the moral ideal is never completely attainable. Green's abstract conception of the self as that which forever sets itself over against its desires is, Dewey argues, not only useless as an ideal for action, but positively opposed to moral striving. "It supervenes, not as a power active in its own satisfaction, but to make us realize the unsatisfactoriness of such seeming satisfactions as we may happen to get, and to keep us striving for something which we can never get!"[99] The most that can be made of Green's moral ideal is to conceive it as the bare form of unity in conduct. Employed as a tool of analysis, as a moral rule, it might tell us, "Whatever the situation, seek for its unity." But it can scarcely go even as far as this in the direction of concreteness, for it says: "No unity can be found in the situation because the situation is particular, and therefore set over against the unity."[100]

Most students of Green would undoubtedly say that this account of his moral theory is entirely one-sided, and fails to reckon with certain elements which should properly be taken into account. In the first place, Green is defining the moral agent as he finds him, and is reporting what seems to him a fact when he says that the moral ideal is too high to be realized in this life. Having a spiritual nature, man fails to find satisfaction in the goods of natural life. Dewey should address himself to the facts in refuting Green's analysis of human nature. In the second place, with respect to Green's separation of the self as unity from the self as a manifold of desires, Dewey's criticism may be flatly rejected. Green raises the question himself: "'Do you mean,' it may be asked, 'to assert the existence of a mysterious abstract entity which you call the self of a man, apart from all his particular feelings, desires, and thoughts—all the experience of his inner life?'"[101] Green takes time to state his position as clearly as possible. He repudiates the idea of an abstract self apart from desire. The following passage is typical of his remarks: "Just as we hold that our desires, feelings, and thoughts would not be what they are—would not be those of a man—if not related to a subject which distinguishes itself from each and all of them; so we hold that this subject would not be what it is, if it were not related to the particular feelings, desires, and thoughts, which it thus distinguishes from and presents to itself."[102] It will be remembered also, that in moral action the agent identifies himself with his desires, or adopts them as his own, and the ability to do this is the chief mark of human intelligence. But man could not identify himself with his desires, or 'specify himself in them,' as Dewey says, did he not at the same time have the capacity to differentiate himself from them.

Dewey's further remarks on Green's ideal need not be followed in detail, since they rest upon a misapprehension of Green's purpose, and add little to what he has already said. Taking the moral ideal as something that can never be realized in this life, Dewey inquires what use can be made of it. He considers three modes in which Green might have given content to the ideal, as a working principle, and finds that it cannot be made, in any of these ways, to serve as a tool of analysis. Green was not prepared to meet these 'pragmatic' requirements. He did not propose his ideal as a principle of conduct, in Dewey's sense; he stated that, as a matter of fact, man is more than natural, and that, as such a being, his ideals can never be completely met by natural objects. How man is to act, in view of his spiritual nature, is a further question: but the realization which the individual has of his own spiritual nature must of necessity be a large factor in the determination of his conduct. The 'Spiritual Nature,' in Green's terminology, meant a 'not-natural' nature, and 'not-natural' in turn meant a nature that is not definable in mechanical or biological terms. Dewey's criticism, therefore, went wide of the mark.

In November, 1893, Dewey followed his criticism of Green's moral motive by a second article in the Philosophical Review on "Self-realization as the Moral Ideal."[103] It continues the criticism which has already been made of Green, but from a different point of departure.

The idea of self-realization in ethics, Dewey begins, may be helpful or harmful according to the way in which the ideas of the self and its realization are worked out in the concrete. The mere idea of a self to be realized is, of course, abstract; it is merely the statement of a problem, which needs to be worked out and given content. By way of introducing his own idea of self-realization, Dewey proposes to criticize a certain conception of the self which he finds in current discussion. "The notion which I wish to criticize," he says, "is that of the self as a presupposed fixed schema or outline, while realization consists in the filling up of this schema. The notion which I would suggest as substitute is that of the self as always a concrete specific activity; and, therefore, (to anticipate) of the identity of self and realization."[104] Such a presupposed fixed self is to be found in Green's "Eternally complete Consciousness."

The idea of self-realization implies capacities or possibilities. To translate capacity into actuality, as the conception of the fixed self seems to do, is to vitiate the whole idea of possibility. There must, then, be some conception of unrealized powers which will meet this difficulty. The way to a valid conception is through the realization that capacities are always specific. "The capacities of a child, for example, are not simply of a child, not of a man, but of this child, not of any other."[105] Whatever else capacity may be, whether infinite or not, it must be an element in an actual situation. As specific things, moreover, capacities reside in activities, which are now going on. The capacity of a child to become a musician consists in this fact: "Even now he has a certain quickness, vividness, and plasticity of vision, a certain deftness of hand, and a certain motor coördination by which his hand is stimulated to work in harmony with his eye."[106]

How do these specific, actual activities come to be called capacities? There is a peculiar psychological reason for this which James has pointed out, in his statement that essence "is that which is so important for my interests that, comparatively, other properties may be omitted."[107] When we pay attention to any activity, there is a natural tendency to select only that portion of it that is of immediate interest, and to exclude the rest as irrelevant. "In the act of vision, for example," Dewey tells us, "the thing that seems nearest us, that which claims continuously our attention, is the eye itself. We thus come to abstract the eye from all special acts of seeing; we make the eye the essential thing in sight, and conceive of the circumstances of vision as indeed circumstances; as more or less accidental concomitants of the permanent eye."[108] There is no eye in general; the eye is always given along with other circumstances which in their totality make up a concrete seeing situation. Nevertheless, we abstract the eye from other circumstances and set it up as the essence of seeing. But we cannot retain the eye in absolute abstraction, because the concrete circumstances of vision force themselves upon the attention. So we lump these together on the other side as a new object, and take as their essence the vibrations of ether. "The eye now becomes the capacity of seeing; the vibrations of ether, conditions required for the exercise of the capacity."[109] We keep the two abstractions, but try to restore the unity of the situation through taking one as capacity and the other as the condition of the exercise of capacity.

But we cannot stop even with this double abstraction. "The eye in general and the vibrations in general do not, even in their unity, constitute the act of vision. A multitude of other factors are included."[110] Preserving the original 'core' as capacity, we tend to treat all the attendant circumstances which occur frequently enough to require taking account of, as conditions which help realize the abstracted reality called capacity.

The discussion here is very much like that in "The Superstition of Necessity" (published in the same year), which was reviewed in the last chapter. Dewey calls attention to this connection in a foot-note, remarking that he has already developed at greater length "the idea that necessity and possibility are simply the two correlative abstractions into which the one reality falls apart during the process of our conscious apprehension of it."[111] The danger, Dewey says, is that the merely relative character of a given capacity may be overlooked, and that it may be ontologized into a fixed entity. This is the error, he thinks, into which Green fell. The ideal self, as that which capacity may realize, is ontologized into an already existent fact. Then we get a separation between the present self, as capacity, and the ideal self which is to be realized. The self already realized is opposed to the self as yet ideal. "This 'realized self' is no reality by itself; it is simply our partial conception of the self erected into an entity. Recognizing its incomplete character, we bring in what we have left out and call it the 'ideal self.' Then by way of dealing with the fact that we have not two selves here at all, but simply a less and a more adequate insight into the same self, we insert the idea of one of these selves realizing the other."[112] It is in this manner that error arises.

But what is the correct attitude toward the self? First of all, the self must be conceived as "a working, practical self, carrying within the rhythm of its own process both 'realized' and 'ideal' self. The current ethics of the self ... are too apt to stop with a metaphysical definition, which seems to solve problems in general, but at the expense of the practical problems which alone really demand or admit solution."[113] The first point of the argument is that the self activity is individual, concrete, and specific, here and now, and the second point is that if the self is to be talked of in an intelligent way it must be taken as something empirically given. "The whole point is expressed when we say that no possible future activities or conditions have anything to do with the present action except as they enable us to take deeper account of the present activity, to get beyond the mere superficies of the act, to see it in its totality."[114] The phrase, 'realize yourself,' is a direction for knowledge; it means, see the wider consequences of your act, realize its wider bearings.

Dewey says: "The fixed ideal is as distinctly the bane of ethical science today as the fixed universe of mediævalism was the bane of the natural science of the Renascence."[115] This is a strong statement, which indicates how wide was the gulf which now separated Dewey from Green, whom he formerly acknowledged as his master.

Dewey's interpretation of Green's ideal self is far from satisfactory, largely because of its lack of insight and appreciation. The reduction of thought to a 'form of activity' renders a purely theoretical inquiry impossible. The 'present activity,' the biological situation, becomes the measure of all things, even of thought. Ideals, in his own words, have nothing to do with present action, "except as they enable us to take deeper account of the present activity." Dewey's self and Green's are incommensurable. The former is the biological organism, with a capacity for indirect activity called thinking; the latter is a not-natural being, whose reality escapes the logic of descriptive science, because of the fulness of its content. Dewey's failure to understand this difference is significant. His acquaintance with Green seems to have been formal from the beginning, never intimate, and the articles just reviewed mark the end of Dewey's idealistic discipleship. His psychological idealism, in fact, was fundamentally antithetical to the Neo-Hegelianism which he had sought to espouse, and the development of his own standpoint brought out the vital differences which had been hidden from his earlier understanding. The idealism which seeks to view reality together and as a whole is forever incompatible with a method which seeks to interpret the whole in terms of one of its parts.