The Socialists have been prominent of late in disclaiming the right of the state to punish, on the ground that society as a whole is responsible for the evil of individual characters. But it is not noticeable that all Socialists refrain from blaming non-socialistic and conservative individuals, although it is obviously true that these are quite as much determined, and as irresponsible from a deterministic point of view, as are the criminals. Moreover, even the mildest Socialists advocate the measure of denying food to the man who can work but will not do so. By what right do these determinists make use of the expression "can but will not"? And what right have they, on their own showing, to administer this chastisement to the lazy man? Surely sloth cannot be interpreted as preëminently a power of will, which no other man possesses; and surely sloth is, as much as criminality, the product of social conditions. If it be objected that this denial of food is no punishment but merely a letting alone, we may inquire whether the starvation which used to be inflicted on prisoners for some offences was not a positive form of punishment. And if it be said that the slothful man has it in his power, at any time, to escape starvation by beginning to work, we may answer that the state says to the criminal, also, that he has nothing to do with its penalties as long as he abstains from the acts for which they are imposed. Why should the vindictive man, the Joseph Phillippes, the Jukes, and Eyrauds of the future receive sustenance, care, and kindness, in homes set apart for their especial use, while the man who is merely indolent is driven to solitude and the roots and herbs of the forest for the support of existence? Perhaps, in such case, the indolent man may claim society's greater indulgence by taking to crime.
These determinists are sometimes heard to make the assertion that the punishment of criminals is wrong, but that punishment of children must still be resorted to for their own sake as well as for that of society, since their character can be disciplined and bettered by it. When we arrive at this inconsistency, we get at the root of the whole objection to state punishment of criminals. There is a growing dissatisfaction with present methods of punishment, and this dissatisfaction, insufficiently analyzed, takes the form of objection to punishment altogether. Benevolence is progressing beyond present laws, and demands their change; that is the gist of the whole matter.
In the light of our analysis of the evolution of morality, we may repeat the inquiry, left unanswered at the beginning of this work, as to whether, in the province of morals more than in other provinces, we find a supernatural element or an element which, in any way, gives us an intimation of the supernatural or transcendental. The question must be replied to in the negative. If it be objected that we must not expect to find the supernatural in the natural, we may reply that that is just what we have not expected to do. The fallacy of such an expectation does not lie with us. Nature gives us no intimation of a supernature, when we cease to see it with the uncomprehending eye of the untutored savage. Nor can the gross, cruel, and superstitious savage be regarded as, in contrast to more social and humane man, better fitted to be the medium of spiritual truth.
And this brings us to the discussion of the presence or absence of conscience in lower animal species. We have found that some species have social organization quite as elaborate as that of many savage tribes, and even more elaborate than that of some tribes. We are able to view these organizations only in their external features; we cannot, however, in most cases, suppose the species to be devoid of consciousness of some sort, and consciousness involves, in any case, pleasure in accustomed function and in its constantly experienced results; the two, action and experience of its results, are, in fact, both functional. The argument of inconstancy, and of inconstancy at points at which it is not found among men, has been shown to be absolutely valueless as directed against any theory of the existence of sympathy and "social instinct" among other animal species. We too are inconstant in our altruism; and habits of altruistic action do not necessarily take the same course with other species that they do with us, differences in social organization rendering differences of habit necessary. If other species fall below us in self-sacrifice for the community in some respects, they often surpass us in others. We may conclude, then, that habits of mutual assistance, habits which we perceive to be externally altruistic, must also be supposed to be connected in many cases with some internal corresponding feelings of the same nature as those which we term, in man, altruistic and social. I do not see how we can avoid this conclusion unless we deny all consciousness to other species; for consciousness must involve, on any plane, feeling as pleasure and pain. And on the supposition of memory, and of the connection in memory of those things and events which are constantly connected in experience, we must suppose the seeking of ends, also, though they are, probably, in most cases, much nearer ends than our human ones. It may be true, as Professor Morgan thinks, that animals have no general concept of ends and means; but a general concept of ends and means is not necessary to the recognition of the fact that this or that particular form of action will have this or that particular result. It is not necessary to apply the terms "ends" and "means" to events in order to understand their connection as following upon each other with constancy. Moreover, we are accustomed to count only our own ends as ends proper, and so, only our own wisdom as wisdom; and thus we term other species stupid for not understanding just our wisdom and acting on a line with us; but certainly there are plenty of human beings whom we do not term wanting in reasoning powers who seek their own destruction or harm much more stupidly than many animals; and, on the other hand, there are many animals who act much more consistently for their own and others' welfare than a large number of mankind do. If the failure of other species to comprehend our language and understand our action is to be termed stupid, then what shall we term our failure to understand their methods of communication and motives of action? It is time for us to emancipate ourselves from this narrow anthropomorphism in which we are accustomed to live, and to realize and acknowledge that there may be other consciousness than our own, with quite other thoughts, feelings, habits, ends, and motives. It is a part of our customary egoism that we prefer to exalt ourselves; it is more gratifying to our vanity, as well as more convenient to our conscience, to regard other species as half-automatic and beneath our sympathy; we thus have excuse for using them as we like. So we call the tiger cruel because he is carnivorous as we ourselves are; we call the fox cunning and sly for lying in ambush for his prey; but when we go out to take, by similar means, our special prey, we call our action a triumph of superior reason. We term the fox a thief, too, when he takes again from us what we are continually taking, and what we took originally, from the beasts. What we regard as right and justifiable and even admirable in ourselves we regard as wrong, cruel, mean, selfish, underhanded, abhorrent, and worthy of all punishment in the animals. As for the faithfulness unto death displayed by many animals, we do not regard that as heroism or worthy our admiration, although we might often take pattern from it. How should we understand other species? We are not accustomed to associate this or that feeling of pleasure in ourselves with a pricking up of ears or a wagging of tail, or our deepest despondency and pain at repulse with this or that peculiar posture or animal cry. A faint trembling of the human hand from fear or pain will stir us with the most profound sympathy; but the sensitive quiver of the whole body in some helpless, hopeless animal, that cannot speak its fear or crave for mercy in the human tongue, touches but seldom an answering chord in our hearts. Shame on our vanity and our hard-heartedness!
The whole of our analysis has tended to lay emphasis on habit. And this leads us to comment on a certain disdain and contempt for habit and custom which is continually arising in some quarters. The whole history of mankind is the history of the formation, gradual change, and spread of the change, of habit, and of custom as the social form of the latter. With the progress of society, habits and customs grow old and must be discarded; but only careful consideration can show us when change is desirable. It is, therefore, both stupid and foolish to inveigh against a habit merely because it is habit or because it is of long standing. Originality, intellectual superiority, does not consist in a contempt for custom merely as custom, but in the power to weigh all sides, to view a matter in all lights, without regard to its age or newness, and to decide on its worth according to its inherent merits or defects. In the rebellion from the slavery to tradition as such, the opposite, equally unreasonable extreme of denunciation of all existing custom is often reached. Thus, some followers of Socrates, adhering slavishly to the word of their master but failing to comprehend its inner meaning, dispensed with all the social usages of their nation, and despised its laws. Of late patriotism is denounced as mere race-prejudice founded on habit and association. But all our affections are matters of habit and association. Doubtless, patriotism may often involve narrowness and injustice; so also may a mother's love for her child, or any other of the forms of the preference of affection. However, it does not follow, therefore, that mother-love is to be denounced and rejected; what we need is not less mother-love, or father-love, but a counterbalancing sympathy for other human beings outside the family, also. And so too we do not want less love of country, but the infusion of it with a broader humanity and justice. The love of a mother need not render her less, but may, on the contrary, render her more, sympathetic; and the love of country may be combined with a wide-reaching regard for the welfare of other men outside the nation to which the patriot belongs. In fact, the mother who is incapable of peculiar love for her own child is not likely to be capable of deep sympathy with other human beings; and I am inclined to believe that there must be something lacking in a man's general moral constitution when he feels no peculiar regard for the land to which he belongs. If it is foolish, as is sometimes asserted, to love one country more than another, simply because we happen to have been born in it, then it is also equally foolish to love our mother simply because she happens to be our mother. There may be other lands as good as ours, and possibly there may be other mothers as good as ours; but affection does not reason thus.
Is social development the cause of an increase in sympathy, or is the increase of sympathy the cause of social progress and prosperity? Or is increase of population the cause of both by forcing men to companionship? Or is not, rather, increase of population the effect of prosperity? In his work on "Recent Discussions in Science, Philosophy, and Morals," Herbert Spencer writes of the altruistic sentiments: "The development of these has gone on only as fast as society has advanced to a state in which the activities are mainly peaceful. The root of all the altruistic sentiments is sympathy, and sympathy could have become dominant only when the mode of life, instead of being one that habitually inflicted direct pain, became one which conferred direct and indirect benefits; the pains inflicted being mainly incidental and indirect;" and in an essay on "Progress," the author writes: "Social progress is supposed to consist in the produce of a greater quantity and variety of the articles required for satisfying men's wants; in the increasing security of person and property; in widening freedom of action; whereas, rightly understood, social progress consists in those changes of structure in the social organism which have entailed these consequences." The two paragraphs appear contradictory of each other, the first laying emphasis upon outer conditions as cause of inner change, the second seeming to emphasize inner conditions as cause; but the terms of the second quotation are somewhat ambiguous. As to the first, to do Mr. Spencer full justice, he corrects this a little farther down, where he says that "sympathy is the concomitant of gregariousness, the two having all along increased by reciprocal aid."
The root of the whole difficulty, with regard to our theories of cause and effect in social development, as with regard to our theories of cause and effect in other parts of nature, lies in our desire for unity and simplicity. Instead of attempting to unravel the intricate web of the conditions, we fix our attention on some one feature or side of the process, and regard the whole development as revolving round this pivot.
It is easy to find examples, in the history of science and opinion, of the errors into which the concepts of cause and effect have led men, and of the repeated recurrence of uncertainty to which the unveiling of these errors in the further march of knowledge, has led. For instance, we find some writers on nervous diseases adhering to the view that insanity is sometimes the effect of a weak yielding to a violent disposition; more contending that the violence is itself the effect of incipient insanity; and still others opining that both violence of disposition and insanity are the effect of a general diseased state of the system. Ancient schools of medicine traced all diseases to the blood, and so drained off the fluid; and the patent medicines of to-day generally select some one organ as the source of all disease. I once heard the assertion that a certain woman had died with grief contested by a physician on the ground that the cause of her death was consumption; he added that deaths from sudden mental shock were known to medicine, but the cases were rare; another medical man suggested that the system might not have been in a perfectly healthy condition at the time of the shock, in those cases; and the first man seemed a little puzzled when a third person suggested that there was doubtless a physical basis in every case.