The question of experiments upon human beings is still more delicate. Just as formerly the examination of a human corpse could be made only in secret, so at the present time, if the slightest experiment is to be made upon a human being, it can be only by devious ways. People who are hardly shocked at all at the numberless accidents caused by automobiles and other means of transit, or in field sports, make the strongest protest against any proposal to try some new method of treatment upon a human being.
A large number of people, amongst them even men of science, regard as immoral any attempt to prevent the spread of venereal diseases. Recently, in connection with the investigations into the action of mercurial ointment as a means of preventing syphilis, the members of the Faculty of Medicine in France made a public protest, declaring that it would be “immoral to let people think that they could indulge in sexual vice without danger,” and that it was “wrong to give to the public a means of protection in debauch.”[226] None the less, other men of science, equally serious, were convinced that they were performing an absolutely moral work in attempting to find a prophylactic against syphilis which would preserve many people, including children and other innocent persons who, if no preventive measures existed, would suffer from the terrible disease.
Such examples show the reader what confusion exists in the problem of morality. Although at every moment, in every act of human conduct, the precepts of morality must be reckoned with, even the most authoritative persons are far from agreeing as to what rules to follow. About a year ago in a Parisian journal[227] an enquiry into the subject of rational morality was directed to distinguished authors. The object was to discover if, at the present time, moral conduct could be based not on religious dogma, which binds only those who believe in it, but on rational principles. The answers were most contradictory. Some denied the possibility of rational morality, others admitted it, but in very different fashions. Whilst one philosopher, M. Boutroux, held that “morality must be founded on reason and could have no other foundation,” a poet, M. Sully-Prudhomme, turned to feeling and conscience as the basis of morality. According to him, “in the teaching of morality, it is the heart and not the mind which is at once master and pupil.” In the contradictions which I mentioned in the beginning of this chapter, these two views appear. When antivivisectionists are protesting against experiments on animals, they are inspired by sympathy for poor creatures which cannot defend themselves. Guided by conscience, they think immoral any suffering inflicted upon a living being for the benefit of another being, whether human or animal. I know distinguished physiologists who have determined to limit their experiments to animals with little sensibility, such as frogs. The great majority of scientific men, however, would have no scruple in opening bodies and subjecting their victims to severe suffering in the hope of clearing up some scientific problem which sooner or later would increase the happiness of human beings and animals. If vivisection had not been performed, or if it had been restricted, the great laws of infectious diseases would not have been discovered, nor would the discovery of many valuable remedies have been made. To justify investigation, men of science set out from the utilitarian theory of morality, which approves everything that is useful to the human race. The antivivisectionists, on the other hand, rely on the intuitive theory, according to which conduct is controlled by the spontaneous activity of our conscience.
In the case which I have selected the problem is easy to solve. It is plain that vivisection is inevitable in the experimental investigation of vital processes, as it is the only means by which serious progress can be made. None the less, very many people cannot accept this necessity, because of the intensity of their love for animals.
In the question of the prevention of syphilis, the moral problem is still more easy to settle. Whilst in the case of vivisection a real suffering may be inflicted upon animals, in preventive measures against syphilis, the evil is more or less intricate and very problematic. The certainty of safety from this disease might render extra-conjugal relations more frequent, but if we compare the evil which might come from that with the immense benefit gained in preventing so many innocent persons from becoming diseased, it is easy to see to which side the scale dips. The indignation of those who protest against the discovery of preventive measures can never either arrest the zeal of the investigators or hinder the use of the measures. This example again shows that reasoning is necessary in the solution of most moral questions.
However, the problems which arise in actual life are often very much more complicated than the two cases I have taken as an introduction. It is easy to prove the high utility of the work of vivisectors and of those who are seeking means of preventing syphilis, whilst their adversaries have nothing to invoke but their feelings. The situation is quite different in many questions which border on morality. The sexual life abounds in extremely difficult problems, in which it is almost impossible to determine what is right. Let me recall the vagaries in the life of Goethe, whose great genius was so often in conflict with the morality of his time. Was he wrong in giving up Frederique and Lili from the fear that a permanent bond would damage his poetic productivity? Then there is the moral question of the marriage of men affected with syphilis, or other diseases which might influence the offspring. The problems of the continence of young people before marriage, of prostitution and of means of preventing conception are without doubt questions of great importance, the solution of which is extremely difficult from the point of view of morality. Differences of opinion are revealed in nearly everything relating to punishment. The question of the death penalty is much in dispute and requires numerous investigations of different kinds. Statistics have been collected to give information as to the utility or inutility of the death penalty. According to some results, capital punishment does not diminish the number of crimes, whilst according to others it has a real preventive effect. Punishments less violent than death, and particularly the punishments of children, are equally troublesome, and schoolmasters have difficulty in finding a solution.
The utilitarian theory of morality often finds it impossible to prove the advantage of the conduct it prescribes, and this the more because in many cases we do not exactly know who is to profit by it. Is the utility of any particular act to be considered so far as it affects relatives, members of the same religion, of the same country, or of the same race, or all humanity?
In face of these difficulties, many moral philosophers have given up the utilitarian theory and declared for an intuitive theory. The basis of morality is to be found in a feeling innate in every man, a sort of social instinct urging him to do good to his neighbour, and which, by the voice of his own conscience, dictates how he ought to act much more precisely than could be done by any comprehension of the utility of his conduct.
It is certainly true that man is an animal living in society because of his need for association with other human beings. But whilst in the animal world the members of societies are actuated by an instinct which is blind and generally very precise, in man we find nothing of the kind. The social instinct appears in him in endless variety. In some of us love of neighbours is extremely highly developed, so that some persons are only happy when sacrificing themselves for the public good. They give all that they have to the poor, and often die for some ideal which is necessarily altruistic. Such examples are rare. Many men, however, profess an affection for some of their kind, devote themselves to their relations, their friends, or their compatriots, and remain practically indifferent to all others. Other individuals, again, have an even narrower sphere of affection, and take advantage of their fellows, either in their own interest or in that of their own family. Still more rare are the really wicked persons who have no love for anyone but themselves and who take pleasure in doing harm to those about them. Notwithstanding this diversity in the development of the social instinct, all men have to live together.
If it were possible to know the inner motives of men, these might be used as a basis for classifying conduct. Those acts might be described as moral which were inspired by neighbourly love, and those as immoral the motive of which was egoism. But it is seldom that the real motives are discovered; they lie deep down in the individual mind, sometimes unknown even to the man himself. We can nearly always harmonise our acts with the dictates of our consciences and find reasons for the harm we inflict upon others. It is only rare natures that possess a conscience so delicate as to be always tormented lest they are not doing good to their neighbours.