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

by Cora May Williams

In speaking of a "perverted conscience," morality condemns the isolation of a man's ideas about right conduct, from the judgment of his fellows.

The conscience, by reason of the element of reflectiveness, is higher than the moral sense; and the cultivation of a refined conscience is the basis of all morality. Yet this very reflectiveness involves danger, in that, attaching itself as it does to the negative side of duty, it tends to associate the latter with the idea of painfulness rather than of pleasure, and to induce fear, and also in that it tends to develop a morbid subjectivity of feeling through too much self-examination.

Good conduct, as good in virtue of the equilibrium it establishes between the various parts of conduct itself, should contain within itself the whole justification of morality. As such, it is the end of morality, in that it is both the object and purpose, the aim or desire; and in that it is also the standard, criterion, or result by which conduct is measured.

Good conduct involves a common good as part of the moral order, and so creative of a tie between all members of society. The common good is thus not to be conceived as something that might be, as it were, cut up and distributed, but as common in that it involves an adjustment of claims. The common good is thus, in a sense, objective, or objectively valid, though not objective in the sense that it exists outside the minds of men, but in the sense that it is a compromise between wills, in which each mind surrenders merely personal whims for a common agreement.

Since there seems a discrepancy between my own good and the good of others, how do I make the good of others my object, going beyond myself in the range of my interest? And how is self-sacrifice possible? The answer to the first question is that morality reconciles the likes and dislikes of individuals, so that self-love and love of others describe the moral relation from opposite ends; every act of respect for others is an act of self-furtherance.

We are entitled to assume, as not needing proof, that the instincts of altruism are as fundamental and original as those of self-love. But if we use stricter reasoning, we can see how, in either case, we identify ourselves with others. Altruism is merely a form of conduct in which the egoistic element, though present, retires into the background; while in all right egoism, we aim at the good of others as well as our own good, though our own good appears as the more prominent feature in the act of willing. We must not be understood as willing, in altruism, another's good in any mystical sense, in the sense of any identification of self with others; we will the good of others in quite a different sense from that in which we will our own good, the idea of their good being a representation in our mind from the analogy of our own experience; and the good attained by each party to the transaction is different and incommunicable. Neither must egoism or altruism be interpreted in the sense that, in either, reflection on the end as distinctively the good of self or of others is involved; the moral agent in general throws his energies into this or that course of action, because it is felt to be what is wanted, without further reflectiveness.

Human beings, as plastic shapes, moulded by contact, adjust themselves to each other, and thus it comes about that certain personal claims are waived. Self-sacrifice is a real fact, a fact attested by the existence of the bad, to whom such sacrifice involves a loss of happiness and is impossible. It means the abandonment of a real good which the individual would seize under other circumstances. It is sometimes contended that real self-sacrifice is impossible, either (1) because the sacrifice is really pleasanter to the agent, or (2) because he is compensated for his loss. But the evident fact that self-sacrifice is pleasanter to the agent does not involve the seeking of his own pleasure by the agent, and even if it be admitted that there is always the forecast of compensation in the mind of the agent, yet part of the forecast is the picture of happiness foregone. But here, as before, it may be said that the element of reflection, the weighing of one's own and others' happiness against each other is read into the act by the onlooker, and is not necessarily involved. That his own self-sacrifice, the compensation of his own consciousness of right-doing outweighs, to the moral man, the pleasure of lower aims, does not mean that the individual is selfish in seeking self-sacrifice. And, in fact, that any ulterior aim of self-satisfaction beyond the act itself is sought, in self-sacrifice, by the moral man, is false; the greatest acts of heroism are characterized by complete absorption in the impersonal end sought, the good of the agent thus not lying beyond, but consisting in his action. Acts characterized by another spirit than this we do not term self-sacrifice.

As all conduct is a matter of will, so morality is concerned not merely with the virtues, the practical dealings of men, but also with all that strengthens or weakens the will and, in general, conduces to character. In judging a man, the significance of his individual gifts, and the responsibility which attends the cultivation of these gifts must be recognized. Not special virtues alone must be considered, but the whole man must be judged and the significance of his self-cultivation in this or that direction observed. This does not mean that the exceptional faults of exceptional men are to be condoned. On the contrary, there is no reason to suppose that special gifts confer a special privilege rather than a special responsibility. Judged in the entirety of their character, such men may not be worse than others, and this fact should be regarded; but we should not defend their sins as such. The neglect of self-cultivation in one direction may be necessary to action in another direction; but the moral criterion of such self-cultivation or action is to be found in morality as an equilibrium of powers.

Perfection is not itself sufficient to define the end. Perfect is that which is the best possible; perfection as a perfect activity rather than a perfect state (as we must conceive it) is equivalent to the best possible conduct. But the moral end can be understood as perfection only when by the best possible conduct is understood that which is the best possible under circumstances determined by morality itself. The fullest development as demanded by morality is not necessarily the perfection of development in any particular case, that is, with regard to any particular gift or individual. Or, in other words, perfection in both its absolute and its comparative meaning, is a conception which belongs, not to morality as such, but to the materials out of which morality is constituted. Take "perfect" as equivalent to "best," then perfection is equally involved in every good action. The good is always the best; what is right is perfect; morality discards degrees of comparison. But the degree of perfection to which any power or individual is to be developed is determined, morally, by the principle of equilibrium. Moreover, we may recognize degrees of perfection in individuals who are, nevertheless, not to be classified as of less or greater moral value.

There are two different conceptions of merit, the one as applied to magnitude of actual achievement, the other to magnitude of effort. The apparent discrepancy vanishes on reflection, since both conceptions apply to what passes beyond the average and measures the distance between the two.