§ 2. But in thus stating the problem we are assuming that the latter term of this comparison can be satisfactorily defined and sufficiently developed; that we can frame with adequate precision a system of rules, constituting the true moral code for human beings as deduced from Utilitarian principles. And this seems to have been commonly assumed by the school whose method we are now examining. But when we set ourselves in earnest to the construction of such a system, we find it beset with serious difficulties. For, passing over the uncertainties involved in hedonistic comparison generally, let us suppose that the quantum of happiness that will result from the establishment of any plan of behaviour among human beings can be ascertained with sufficient exactness for practical purposes—even when the plan is as yet constructed in imagination alone. It still has to be asked, What is the nature of the human being for whom we are to construct this hypothetical scheme of conduct? For humanity is not something that exhibits the same properties always and everywhere: whether we consider the intellect of man or his feelings, or his physical condition and circumstances, we find them so different in different ages and countries, that it seems prima facie absurd to lay down a set of ideal Utilitarian rules for mankind generally. It may be said that these differences after all relate chiefly to details; and that there is in any case sufficient uniformity in the nature and circumstances of human life always and everywhere to render possible an outline scheme of ideal behaviour for mankind at large. But it must be answered, that it is with details that we are now principally concerned; for the previous discussion has sufficiently shown that the conduct approved by Common Sense has a general resemblance to that which Utilitarianism would prescribe; but we wish to ascertain more exactly how far the resemblance extends, and with what delicacy and precision the current moral rules are adapted to the actual needs and conditions of human life.
Suppose, then, that we contract the scope of investigation, and only endeavour to ascertain the rules appropriate to men as we know them, in our own age and country. We are immediately met with a dilemma: the men whom we know are beings who accept more or less definitely a certain moral code: if we take them as they are in this respect, we can hardly at the same time conceive them as beings for whom a code is yet to be constructed de novo: if, on the other hand, we take an actual man—let us say, an average Englishman—and abstract his morality, what remains is an entity so purely hypothetical, that it is not clear what practical purpose can be served by constructing a system of moral rules for the community of such beings. Could we indeed assume that the scientific deduction of such a system would ensure its general acceptance; could we reasonably expect to convert all mankind at once to Utilitarian principles, or even all educated and reflective mankind, so that all preachers and teachers should take universal happiness as the goal of their efforts as unquestioningly as physicians take the health of the individual body; and could we be sure that men’s moral habits and sentiments would adjust themselves at once and without any waste of force to these changed rules:—then perhaps in framing the Utilitarian code we might fairly leave existing morality out of account. But I cannot think that we are warranted in making these suppositions; I think we have to take the moral habits, impulses, and tastes of men as a material given us to work upon no less than the rest of their nature, and as something which, as it only partly results from reasoning in the past, so can only be partially modified by any reasoning which we can now apply to it. It seems therefore clear that the solution of the hypothetical Utilitarian problem of constructing an ideal morality for men conceived to be in other respects as experience shows them to be, but with their actual morality abstracted, will not give us the result which we practically require.
It will perhaps be said, “No doubt such an ideal Utilitarian morality can only be gradually, and perhaps after all imperfectly, introduced; but still it will be useful to work it out as a pattern to which we may approximate.” But, in the first place, it may not be really possible to approximate to it: since any particular existing moral rule, though not the ideally best even for such beings as existing men under the existing circumstances, may yet be the best that they can be got to obey: so that it would be futile to propose any other, or even harmful, as it might tend to impair old moral habits without effectively replacing them by new ones. And secondly, the endeavour gradually to approximate to a morality constructed on the supposition that the non-moral part of existing human nature remains unchanged, may lead us wrong: because the state of men’s knowledge and intellectual faculties, and the range of their sympathies, and the direction and strength of their prevailing impulses, and their relations to the external world and to each other, are continually being altered, and such alteration is to some extent under our control and may be felicific in a high degree: and any material modifications in important elements and conditions of human life may require corresponding changes in established moral rules and sentiments, in order that the greatest possible happiness may be attained by the human being whose life is thus modified. In short, the construction of a Utilitarian code, regarded as an ideal towards which we are to progress, is met by a second dilemma:—The nature of man and the conditions of his life cannot usefully be assumed to be constant, unless we are confining our attention to the present or proximate future; while again, if we are considering them in the present or proximate future, we must take into account men’s actual moral habits and sentiments, as a part of their nature not materially more modifiable than the rest.
Nor, again, can I agree with Mr. Spencer[357] in thinking that it is possible to solve the problems of practical ethics by constructing the final perfect form of society, towards which the process of human history is tending; and determining the rules of mutual behaviour which ought to be, and will be, observed by the members of this perfect society. For, firstly, granting that we can conceive as possible a human community which is from a utilitarian point of view perfect; and granting also Mr. Spencer’s definition of this perfection—viz. that the voluntary actions of all the members cause “pleasure unalloyed by pain anywhere” to all who are affected by them[358]—; it still seems to me quite impossible to forecast the natures and relations of the persons composing such a community, with sufficient clearness and certainty to enable us to define even in outline their moral code. And secondly, even if it were otherwise, even if we could construct scientifically Mr. Spencer’s ideal morality, I do not think such a construction would be of much avail in solving the practical problems of actual humanity. For a society in which—to take one point only—there is no such thing as punishment, is necessarily a society with its essential structure so unlike our own, that it would be idle to attempt any close imitation of its rules of behaviour. It might possibly be best for us to conform approximately to some of these rules; but this we could only know by examining each particular rule in detail; we could have no general grounds for concluding that it would be best for us to conform to them as far as possible. For even supposing that this ideal society is ultimately to be realised, it must at any rate be separated from us by a considerable interval of evolution; hence it is not unlikely that the best way of progressing towards it will be some other than the apparently directest way, and that we shall reach it more easily if we begin by moving away from it. Whether this is so or not, and to what extent, can only be known by carefully examining the effects of conduct on actual human beings, and inferring its probable effects on the human beings whom we may expect to exist in the proximate future.
§ 3. Other thinkers of the evolutionist school suggest that the difficulties of Utilitarian method might be avoided, in a way more simple than Mr. Spencer’s, by adopting, as the practically ultimate end and criterion of morality, “health” or “efficiency” of the social organism, instead of happiness. This view is maintained, for instance, in Mr. Leslie Stephen’s Science of Ethics;[359] and deserves careful examination. As I understand Mr. Stephen, he means by “health” that state of the social organism which tends to its preservation under the conditions of its existence, as they are known or capable of being predicted; and he means the same by “efficiency”;—since the work for which, in his view, the social organism has to be “efficient” is simply the work of living, the function of “going on.” I say this because “efficiency” might be understood to imply some ‘task of humanity’ which the social organism has to execute, beyond the task of merely living; and similarly “health” might be taken to mean a state tending to the preservation not of existence merely, but of desirable existence—desirability being interpreted in some non-hedonistic manner: and in this case an examination of either term would lead us again over the ground traversed in the discussion on Ultimate Good (in chap. [xiv.] of the preceding Book).[360] But I do not understand that any such implications were in Mr. Stephen’s mind; and they certainly would not be in harmony with the general drift of his argument. The question, therefore, is whether, if General Happiness be admitted to be the really ultimate end in a system of morality, it is nevertheless reasonable to take Preservation of the social organism as the practically ultimate “scientific criterion” of moral rules.
My reasons for answering this question in the negative are two-fold. In the first place I know no adequate grounds for supposing that if we aim exclusively at the preservation of the social organism we shall secure the maximum attainable happiness of its individual members: indeed, so far as I know, of two social states which equally tend to be preserved one may be indefinitely happier than the other. As has been before observed[361] a large part of the pleasures which cultivated persons value most highly—æsthetic pleasures—are derived from acts and processes that have no material tendency to preserve the individual’s life:[362] and the statement remains true if we substitute the social organism for the individual. And I may add that much refined morality is concerned with the prevention of pains which have no demonstrable tendency to the destruction of the individual or of society. Hence, while I quite admit that the maintenance of preservative habits and sentiments is the most indispensable function of utilitarian morality—and perhaps almost its sole function in the earlier stages of moral development, when to live at all was a difficult task for human communities—I do not therefore think it reasonable that we should be content with the mere securing of existence for humanity generally, and should confine our efforts to promoting the increase of this security, instead of seeking to make the secured existence more desirable.
But, secondly, I do not see on what grounds Mr. Stephen holds that the criterion of ‘tendency to the preservation of the social organism’ is necessarily capable of being applied with greater precision than that of ‘tendency to general happiness,’ even so far as the two ends are coincident: and that the former “satisfies the conditions of a scientific criterion.” I should admit that this would probably be the case, if the Sociology that we know were a science actually constructed, and not merely the sketch of a possible future science: but Mr. Stephen has himself told us that sociology at present “consists of nothing more than a collection of unverified guesses and vague generalisations, disguised under a more or less pretentious apparatus of quasi-scientific terminology.” This language is stronger than I should have ventured to use; but I agree generally with the view that it expresses; and it appears to me difficult for a writer who holds this view to maintain that the conception of “social health,” regarded as a criterion and standard of right conduct, is in any important degree more “scientific” than the conception of “general happiness.”
Holding this estimate of the present condition of Sociology, I consider that, from the utilitarian point of view, there are equally decisive reasons against the adoption of any such notion as “development” of the social organism—instead of mere preservation—as the practically ultimate end and criterion of morality. On the one hand, if by “development” is meant an increase in “efficiency” or preservative qualities, this notion is only an optimistic specialisation of that just discussed (involving the—I fear—unwarranted assumption that the social organism tends to become continually more efficient); so that no fresh arguments need be urged against it. If, however, something different is meant by development—as (e.g.) a disciple of Mr. Spencer might mean an increase in “definite coherent heterogeneity,” whether or not such increase was preservative—then I know no scientific grounds for concluding that we shall best promote general happiness by concentrating our efforts on the attainment of this increase. I do not affirm it to be impossible that every increase in the definite coherent heterogeneity of a society of human beings may be accompanied or followed by an increase in the aggregate happiness of the members of the society: but I do not perceive that Mr. Spencer, or any one else, has even attempted to furnish the kind of proof which this proposition requires.[363]