Therefore, to sum up these considerations on physical suffering, the case between a theist and a sceptic as to the question of divine beneficence is seen to be a case of extreme simplicity. The theist believes in such beneficence by purposely concealing from his mind all adverse evidence—feeling, on the one side, that to entertain the doubt to which this evidence points would be to hold dalliance with blasphemy, and, on the other side, that the subject is of so transcendental a nature that, in view of so great a risk, it is better to avoid impartial reasoning upon it. A sceptic, on the other hand, is under no such obligation to preconceived ideas, and is therefore free to draw unbiassed inferences as to the character of God, if he exists, to the extent which such character is indicated by the sphere of observable nature. And, as I have said, when the subject is so viewed, the inference is unavoidable that, so far as human reason can penetrate, God, if he exists, must either be non-infinite in his resources, or non-beneficent in his designs. Therefore it is evident that when the being of God, as distinguished from his character, is the subject in dispute, Theism can gain nothing by an appeal to evidences of beneficent designs. If such evidences were unequivocal, then indeed the argument which they would establish to an intelligent cause of nature would be almost irresistible; for the fact of the external world being in harmony with the moral nature of man would be unaccountable except on the supposition of both having derived their origin from a common moral source; and morality implies intelligence. But as it is, all the so-called evidence of divine beneficence in nature is, without any exception of a kind that is worthless as proving design; for all the facts admit of being explained equally well on the supposition of their having been due to purely physical processes, acting through the various biological laws which we are now only beginning to understand. And further than this, so far are these facts from proving the existence of a moral cause, that, in view of the alternative just stated, they even ground a positive argument to its negation. For, as we have seen, all these facts are just of such a kind as we should expect to be the facts, on the supposition of their having been due to natural causes—i.e., causes which could have had no moral solicitude for animal happiness as such. Let us now, in conclusion, dwell on this antithesis at somewhat greater length.
If natural selection has played any large share in the process of organic evolution, it is evident that animal enjoyment, being an important factor in this natural cause, must always have been furthered to the extent in which it was necessary for the adaptation of organisms to their environment that it should. And such we invariably find to be the limits within which animal enjoyments are confined. On the other hand, so long as the adaptations in question are not complete, so long must more or less of suffering be entailed—the capacity for suffering, as for enjoyment, being no doubt itself a product of natural selection. But as all specific types are perpetually struggling together, it is manifest that the competition must prevent any considerable number of types from becoming so far adapted to their environment of other types as to become exempt from suffering as a result of this competition. There being no one integrating cause of an intelligent or moral nature to supply the conditions of happiness to each organic type without the misery of this competition, such happiness as animals have is derived from the heavy expenditure of pain suffered by themselves and by their ancestry.
Thus, whether we look to animal pleasures or to animal pains, the result is alike just what we should expect to find on the supposition of these pleasures and pains having been due to necessary and physical, as distinguished from intelligent and moral, antecedents; for how different is that which is from that which might have been! Not only might beneficent selection have eliminated the countless species of parasites which now destroy the health and happiness of all the higher organisms; not only might survival of the fittest, in a moral sense, have determined that rapacious and carnivorous animals should yield their places in the world to harmless and gentle ones; not only might life have been without sickness and death without pain;—but how might the exigences and the welfare of species have been consulted by the structures and the habits of one another! But no! Amid all the millions of mechanisms and habits in organic nature, all of which are so beautifully adapted to the needs of the species presenting them, there is no single instance of any mechanism or habit occurring in one species for the exclusive benefit of another species—although, as we should expect on the non-theistic theory, there are some comparatively few cases of a mechanism or a habit which is of benefit to its possessor being also utilised by other species. Yet, on the beneficent-design theory, it is impossible to understand why, when all mechanisms and habits in the same species are invariably correlated for the benefit of that species, there should never be any such correlation between mechanisms and habits of different species. For how magnificent, how sublime a display of supreme beneficence would nature have afforded if all her sentient animals had been so inter-related as to minister to each other's happiness! Organic species might then have been likened to a countless multitude of voices, all singing to their Creator in one harmonious psalm of praise. But, as it is, we see no vestige of such correlation; every species is for itself, and for itself alone—an outcome of the always and everywhere fiercely raging struggle for life.
So much, then, for the case of physical evil; but Dr. Flint also treats of the case of moral evil. Let us see what this well-equipped writer can make of this old problem in the present year of grace. He says—"But it will be objected, could not God have made moral creatures who would be certain always to choose what is right, always to acquiesce in His holy will?... Well, far be it from me to deny that God could have originated a sinless moral system.... But if questioned as to why He has not done better, I feel no shame in confessing my ignorance. It seems to me that when you have resolved the problem of the origin of moral evil into the question, Why has God not originated a moral universe in which the lowest moral being would be as excellent as the archangels are? you have at once shown it to be speculatively incapable of solution [italics mine], and practically without importance[!]. The question is one which would obviously give rise to another, Why has God not created only moral beings as much superior to the archangels as they are superior to the lowest Australian aborigines? But no complete answer can be given to a question which may be followed by a series of similar questions to which there is no end. We have, besides, neither the facts nor the faculties to answer such questions."[[46]]
Now I confess that this argument presents to my mind more of subtlety than sense. I had previously imagined that the archangels were supposed to enjoy a condition of moral existence which might fairly be thought to remove them from any association with that of the Australian aborigines. But as this question is one that belongs to Divinity, I am here quite prepared to bow to Professor Flint's authority—hoping, however, that he is prepared to take the responsibility should the archangels ever care to accuse me of calumny. But, as a logician, I must be permitted to observe, that if I ask, Why am I not better than I am? it is no answer to tell me, Because the archangels are not better than they are. For aught that I know to the contrary, the archangels may be morally perfect—as an authority in such matters has told us that even "just men" may become,—and therefore, for aught that I know to the contrary, Professor Flint's regress of moral degrees ad infinitum, may be an ontological absurdity. But granting, for the sake of argument, that archangels fall infinitely short of moral perfection, and I should only be able to see in the fact a hopeless aggravation of my previous difficulty. If it is hard to reconcile the supreme goodness of God with the moral turpitude of man, much more would it be hard to do so if his very angels are depraved. Therefore, if the reasonable question which I originally put "may be followed by a series of similar questions to which there is no end," the goodness of God must simply be pronounced a delusion. For the question which I originally put was no mere flimsy question of a stupidly unreal description. My own moral depravity is a matter of painful certainty to me, and I want to know why, if there is a God of infinite power and goodness, he should have made me thus. And in answer I am told that my question is "practically without importance," because there may be an endless series of beings who, in their several degrees, are in a similar predicament to myself. Perhaps they are; but if so, the moral evil with which I am directly acquainted is made all the blacker by the fact that it is thus but a drop in an infinite ocean of moral imperfection. When, therefore, Professor Flint goes on to say, "We ought to be content if we can show that what God has done is wise and right, and not perplex ourselves as to why He has not done an infinity of other things," I answer, Most certainly; but can we show that what God has done is wise and right? Unquestionably not. That what he has done may be wise and right, could we see his whole scheme of things, no careful thinker will deny; but to suppose it can be shown that he has done this, is an instance of purblind fanaticism which is most startling in a work on Theism. "The best world, we may be assured, that our fancies can feign, would in reality be far inferior to the world God has made, whatever imperfections we may think we see in it." Are we leading a sermon on the datum "God is love"? No; but a work on the questions, Is there a God? and, if so, Is he a God of love? And yet the work is written by a man who evidently tries to argue fairly. What shall we say of the despotism of preformed beliefs? May we not say at least this much—that those who endeavour to reconcile their theories of divine goodness with the facts of human evil might well appropriate to themselves the words above quoted, "We have neither the facts nor the faculties to answer such questions"? For the "facts" indeed are absent, and the "faculties" of impartial thought must be absent also, if this obvious truth cannot be seen—that "these questions" only derive their "speculatively unanswerable" character from the rational falsity of the manner by which it is sought to answer them. The "facts" of our moral nature, so far as honest reason can perceive, belie the hypothesis of Theism; and although the "faculties" of man may be forced by prejudice into an acceptance of contradictory propositions, the truth is obvious that only by the hypothesis of Evolution can that old-tied knot be cut—the Origin of Evil. The form of Theism for which Dr. Flint is arguing is the current form, viz., that there is a God who combines in himself the attributes of infinite power and perfect goodness—a God at once omnipotent and wholly moral. But, in view of the fact that moral evil exists in man, the proposition that God is omnipotent and the proposition that he is wholly moral become contradictory; and therefore the fact of moral evil can only be met, either by abandoning one or other of these propositions, or by altogether rejecting the hypothesis of Theism.
III.
THE SPECULATIVE STANDING OF MATERIALISM.
As a continuation of my criticism on Mr. Fiske's views, I think it is desirable to add a few words concerning the speculative annihilation with which he supposes Mr. Spencer's doctrines to have visited Materialism. Of course it is a self-evident truism that the doctrine of Relativity is destructive of Materialism, if by Materialism we mean a theory which ignores that doctrine. In other words, the doctrine of Relativity, if accepted, clearly excludes the doctrine that Matter, as known phenomenally, is at all likely to be a true representative of whatever thing-in-itself it may be that constitutes Mind. But this position is fully established by the doctrine of Relativity alone, and is therefore not in the least affected, either by way of confirmation or otherwise, by Mr. Spencer's extended doctrine of the Unknowable—it being only because the latter doctrine presupposes the doctrine of Relativity that it is exclusive of Materialism in the sense which has just been stated. So far, therefore, Mr. Spencer's writings cannot be held to have any special bearing on the doctrine of Materialism. Such a special bearing is only exerted by these writings when they proceed to show that "it seems an imaginable possibility that units of external force may be identical in nature with the units of the force known as feeling." Let us then ascertain how far it is true that the argument already quoted, and which leads to this conclusion, is utterly destructive of Materialism.