[8] The attempt to apply the philological method to an examination of moral concepts has, in my opinion, proved a failure—which may be seen from Mr. Baynes’ book on The Idea of God and the Moral Sense in the Light of Language.
The tendency in a phenomenon to arouse moral indignation is directly expressed by the term bad, and a disposition of mind which is characterised by some special kind of badness is called vice. Closely allied to the term “bad” is the term wrong. But there is a difference in the use of these words. Whilst “bad” may be applied both to a person’s character and to his conduct, only his conduct may be said to be “wrong.” The reason for this is that the concept of moral wrongness is modelled on the idea of a moral law, the breach of which is regarded as "wrong.” And, by laying down a moral law, we only enjoin a certain mode of conduct; we do not command a person to have a certain character.
The moral law is expressed by the term ought, a term which, in modern ethics, generally occupies a central position among moral predicates. The notion which it embodies is frequently looked upon as ultimate and incapable of analysis—“too elementary” (to quote Professor Sidgwick) “to admit of any formal definition.”[9] This view, I think, instead of simplifying the matter, has been one of the chief causes of the prevailing confusion in ethical thought.
[9] Sidgwick, Methods of Ethics, p. 33.
Far from being a simple notion, “ought” appears to me clearly decomposable, even though it have a special flavour of its own. First of all, it expresses a conation. When I feel that I ought to do a thing, I experience an impulse to do it, even though some opposite impulse may finally determine my action. And when I say to another man, “You ought to do this, or that,” there is certainly implied a purpose to influence his action in a certain direction. In the notion of duty, the ethical import of which is identical with that of “ought,” this conative element is not so obvious.
Closely connected with the conative nature of “ought” is the imperative character it is apt to assume. But, though frequently used imperatively, “ought” is not necessarily and essentially imperative. Even if the “ought” which I address to myself, in a figurative sense, may be styled a command, it is hardly appropriate to speak of a present command with reference to past actions. The common phrase, “You ought to have done this, or that,” cannot be called a command.
The conation expressed in “ought” is determined by the idea that the mode of conduct which ought to be performed is not, or will possibly not be, performed. It is also this idea of its not being performed that determines the emotion which gives to “ought” the character of a moral predicate. The doing of what ought not to be done, or the omission of what ought not to be omitted, is apt to call forth moral indignation—this is the most essential fact involved in the notion of “ought.” Every “ought”-judgment contains implicitly a negation. Nobody would ever have dreamt of laying down a moral rule if the idea of its transgression had not presented itself to his mind. We may reverse the words of the Apostle,[10] and say that where no transgression is, there is no law. When Solon was asked why he had specified no punishment for one who had murdered a father, he replied that he supposed it could not occur to any man to commit such a crime.[11] Similarly, the modern Shintoist concludes that the primæval Japanese were pure and holy from the fact that they are represented as a people who had no moral commandments.[12] It is this prohibitive character of “ought” that has imparted to duty that idea of antagonism to inclination which has found its most famous expression in the Kantian ethics, and which made Bentham look upon the word itself as having in it “something disagreeable and repulsive.”[13] It is the intrinsic connection between “ought” and “wrong” that has given to duty the most prominent place in ethical speculation whenever moral pessimism has been predominant. Whilst the ancient Greeks, with whom happiness was the state of nature, never spoke of duty, but held virtue to be the Supreme Good, Christianity, on the other hand, which looked upon man as a being born and bred in sin, regarded morals pre-eminently as the science of duty. Then, again, in modern times, Kant’s categorical imperative came as a reaction against that moral optimism which once more had given the preference to virtue, considering everything in the world or in humanity as beautiful and good from the very beginning.[14] It is also worth noting that the feeling of self-complacency connected with the consciousness of having acted in accordance with the law of duty, has no distinctively expressive name in ordinary language, while the opposite feeling is known by so familiar and distinctive a term as “remorse.” This is not, as has been said,[15] “a significant indication of the moral condition of mankind,” but a significant indication of the true import of the notion of duty itself.
[10] Romans, iv. 15.
[11] Diogenes Laërtius, Solon, 10. Cicero, Pro S. Roscio Amerino, 25.
[12] Griffis, Religions of Japan, p. 72.