A Review of the Systems of Ethics Founded on the Theory of Evolution

by Cora May Williams

The rule that the greatest possible happiness of all is to be striven for, is an assertion that the happiness of every one is to be considered, that not that of the lowest human being is to be interfered with unless such interference is necessary in order to prevent still greater harm to others; and that no such interference shall be greater than is positively necessary in accordance with this aim. The highest moral law is thus nothing more than the Christian commandment of love to all men. And the rule "To count each as one, no more," may receive the restrictive clause "in so far as the good of the whole of society is not diminished by so doing."

Some Darwinians are inclined to regard the preservation of existence as the criterion by which to judge the moral quality of action. "Aim for the preservation of the species" would be, from their standpoint, the moral law. But mere existence is not happiness; that is shown by the fact of suicide. However, it is true that health is one of the conditions of happiness. Pessimists are generally men of an unhappy temperament, often of morbid physical constitution; medical science must, in its progress, help to prevent the development of such morose dispositions. Want of love may also be a cause of pessimism; most pessimists have been lonely men. And want of employment may also lead to pessimism. If we follow Rousseau's advice not to listen to those who are in exceptional abnormal positions, but appeal to those who constitute the great majority, we shall conclude that, in general, the happiness of men greatly exceeds their misery. The increase of suicide is often used as an argument that civilization has not caused an increase, but a decrease, of happiness. To this argument it may be answered that the religious scruples which formerly withheld men from this extreme step have diminished, that men have grown more self-conscious and independent in action; and that, moreover, our age is one of unrest, a transition-period such as no other period has been. When we examine the lives of tribes on a low plane of civilization, we find their existence full of uncertainty and of superstitious fear, and at the mercy of the forces of nature. Without doubt, much misery exists; a great part of it, however, is caused by the disappointment of too extreme demands for happiness; the individual must not require that life shall be continuous rapture.

The recognition of what right action is, is not its accomplishment. Pain and pleasure determine the will,—the pain and pleasure of the person who wills, since he cannot feel with the feelings of others or will with their will any more than he can move with their limbs. He may have a conception of the welfare or suffering of others, but a mere mental image does not determine the will. Only when such a conception arouses pleasure or pain in the subject himself, are will and action possible.

Love consists in joy in the thought of the beloved person, with joy in his joy, and pain in his pain. He who seeks to render happy one whom he loves does not, as a rule, consider the fact that he will himself have a joy in the happiness of that other; his aim is to give pleasure, not to himself, but to the other. But the thought of doing for him is combined with pleasure, the thought of not doing for him is combined with pain; and these present feelings determine the will.

That which distinguishes the moral from the immoral man is that, in the former, the notions of the right and good rouse strong feelings,—feelings of pain at the thought of acting contrary to them, of pleasure at the thought of acting in accordance with them, feelings which may overpower all others; while in the immoral man these conceptions call forth no feelings or only such weak ones as offer no sufficient opposition to the influence of other feelings. Both men act from feeling, but not from the same feelings.

Do we, by proving that the moral, as well as the immoral man is determined in his action by feelings, show that the one approximates to, or is identical with the other? By no means. In that case, the proof that both the moral man and the immoral man will with their own will, and act through their own limbs, that both possess arms, hands, senses, feelings, understanding, in short, that both are human beings, must show, in the same manner, an approximation of the moral to the immoral man. A perceptive, intellectual, objective side, and an emotional, inner, subjective side are to be distinguished in all action; and only the confusion of the two has led to the fancy that, with the proof that all action proceeds from the pain or pleasure of the person who wills, it is shown that all action, every human being, is selfish, and that unselfishness is a figment of the imagination. It is not the expected pleasure that moves the will; it is only when the conception of future happiness or misery awakens present feelings stronger than other present feelings which would move the will in another direction, that willing and action can follow in accordance with that conception. Hence, there is nothing so remarkable in the sacrifice of one's own happiness. It is not morally desirable that self-love should be weak, but only that conscience and general benevolence should be stronger still.

Many who have recognized the reality of sympathy and benevolence have not regarded them as primary but as evolved from egoism. However, if the word egoism is to have a distinct meaning, it must be interpreted as the conscious preference of one's own good to that of others. But with self-consciousness is likewise developed the consciousness of other beings, and the latter, as the former, clothes itself with feelings—with egoistic feelings, and with sympathetic feelings as well.

It is further to be remarked that the proof that an action is disinterested, is no proof of its moral worth. The worst action,—an action of pure cruelty, envy, or hatred, may be disinterested, that is, it may have for its end the pain of another without consideration of the advantage of the doer.

The effects, as pain or pleasure, of conduct opposed to, or in harmony with, civil or moral law, in so far as such effects can be predicted and, as thus predicted, they influence the will, are called Sanctions. One may distinguish between a physical, a political, a social, a sympathetic, and a moral sanction. Doubtless the conduct recommended by self-love, as a result of these sanctions, coincides, to a very large extent, to a larger extent than egoists in the rule perceive, with that which the good of society demands; but it is just as certain that, in many cases, the way of selfish cunning and that of virtue diverge. The outer sanctions do not insure the coincidence of duty and one's own happiness; nor does the sympathetic sanction secure this, for sympathy is often on the side opposed to duty. There is but one sanction which is ever on the side of action in accordance with duty: the moral sanction, the peace and joy which accompany the knowledge of having done right. Duty and self-interest coincide the more nearly, the better and more unanimous the various sanctions are, and, especially, the more strongly the moral feelings are developed in a society; one of the tasks society has to set itself is to labor for the greatest possible concord of duty and self-interest. But this harmony will never become an absolutely perfect one and self-sacrifice impossible. Man needs, therefore, some end which shall depend upon himself alone, if he is to be kept from discouragement and despair. Such an end is the consciousness of right-doing. He who chooses this as highest end must devote himself to the service of mankind, as well as he who makes the advancement of the good of mankind his end. The thought of this end will prevent him from being blinded by self-interest in answering the question as to what right and duty are, and will also preserve him from permitting himself one or the other pet sin under the excuse that he will atone for it by other good actions; it will compel him to the endeavor to fulfil every duty. And though he may not be perfectly happy, he will be happier than the man who makes the good of humanity his end; since he is less dependent upon outer events. Benevolence and conscience are not the same. The latter constrains us to do right, that is, to perform actions the expected results of which are in harmony with the general welfare; it has attained its end when the right action is performed, and it has failed to attain its end when this aim is frustrated. Man has a deep inner longing for happiness of some sort. When he does not find it upon earth, he seeks it in some other world. He has often a deep inner yearning for holiness, and a secret dissatisfaction in his own conduct. Ethics satisfies this double longing in commanding him to renounce his greatest happiness and endeavor to attain moral blessedness, the happiness of holiness.

Perhaps some one may object that this is a selfish view of the moral life. Is it selfish to renounce one's greatest happiness in order to attain only peace of conscience? That no one were without such selfishness! He who sets himself this end will act better, more in accordance with the good of humanity, than he who makes the advancement of human welfare his ultimate aim. Hence the human being should choose this end. Therefore, the highest moral commandment, the Categorical Imperative, receives this form: "Strive to attain peace of conscience in devoting thyself to the service of mankind."