The Non-religion of the Future: A Sociological Study

by Jean-Marie Guyau

Is pessimism the last word of philosophy?

II. Is pessimism curable? A sense of evil constitutes a legitimate element in the metaphysical or religious sentiment; but is that a sufficient reason for recognizing it not simply as a part, but as the whole of metaphysics and of religion? Such is the problem.

Pessimism only part of the truth.

Von Hartmann has endeavoured to discover in all religion a basis of pessimism. To do so is to judge all humanity too narrowly, according to one’s observation of it at the present day. To maintain that religion is founded on a radical pessimism is like affirming that medicine is based not on a theory of the curability, but of the incurability of disease. Schopenhauer’s pessimism, like Spinoza’s optimism, contains, no doubt, a certain indestructible element of truth, but immensely overstated and magnified. If science cannot regard the world as divine, neither can it regard the world as diabolical. There is no more ground for cursing the objective universe than for adoring it. And the subjective causes of unhappiness, which we have analyzed, are provisional simply. Human knowledge, which at present is so considerable in its dimensions that it actually embarrasses the brain, may well come to be so organized (as, indeed, in some cases, it is even now) that it will produce a sense of well-being and of largeness of life only. There is need, however, for a wholly new science, that of intellectual hygiene, of intellectual therapeutics, a science which, once created, might prevent or cure the mental depression which seems to result from exaggerated nervous excitation, such as pessimism seems to be incidental to, and such as Greece was unacquainted with.

Resignation.

For the rest, the desire of knowledge, which is, as we have seen, among the most profound of the desires of the century, may become the source of, perhaps, the most trustworthy and most infallible cure for a great number of human ills. Some of us, certainly, who are of the physically and mentally disinherited, may cry: “I have suffered in all my joys.” Nescio quid amari was present for us in the first draught of pleasure, in the first smile, in the first kiss, and yet the present life is not without its sweetness when we do not rebel against it, when it is rationally accepted. What makes up for the bitterness of knowledge is the definiteness and clearness that it lends to the world. As science becomes more perfect it may some day inspire the soul with something of the serenity that is everywhere incidental to unfaltering clear light. Therein lies the secret of Spinoza’s intellectual calm. If his objective optimism is indefensible, his subjective optimism is not without an aspect of truth in the consciousness of inner peace that belongs to breadth of intelligence and harmony of thought.

Analysis destroys irrational joys only.

So far as introspection is concerned, and the dissolving force it exercises upon our joys, introspection is destructive, really, of none but irrational joys, and by way of compensation, it is destructive also of irrational griefs. Truth resists analysis; it is our business to seek in truth not only for the beautiful, but for the good. Take it all in all, there is as much solid and enduring truth in enlightened love of family, of country, of humanity, as in the most unquestionable scientific fact, or in certain physical laws, like that of gravitation. The great remedy for excessive analysis, such as Amiel, for example, suffered from, is a little to forget one’s self, to widen one’s horizon, and, above all, to do something. Action, by its very nature, is a realized synthesis, a decision which necessitates the solution of a certain number of problems, or the recognition that their solution is not indispensable. Action is something too trenchant and provisional, no doubt, but men must remember that they live in the provisional and not the eternal, and that of their life, after all, what is least provisional is action, motion, the vibration of an atom, the undulation which traverses the great whole. Whoever lives immersed in the conduct of life has no time for self-pity or self-dissection. Other forms of oblivion are involuntary and sometimes lie beyond one’s power, but one may always forget one’s self. The cure for all the sufferings of the modern brain lies in an enlargement of the heart.

The problem of distribution of wealth.

It has been urged, it is true, that we suffer increasingly from a growing sympathy and pity for each other. The problem of individual happiness, owing to the increasing sense of the solidarity of mankind, is more than ever dependent to-day upon the happiness of society at large. Not only our immediate and personal griefs, but the griefs of other people, of society, of humanity, present and to come, influence us. So be it. To discuss the future would be endless. We have not Macbeth’s privilege of being brought face to face with the file of future generations, and cannot read in advance the destiny of our descendants in their faces. The mirror of human life shows us nothing but an image of ourselves, and in this image we are inclined, like the poets, to emphasize the lines of pain. The labour problem, which at present distresses us, is infinitely complex; but we believe that the optimists have even more right to regard it with tranquillity than the pessimists have to declare it insoluble; in especial when one considers that it has assumed a threatening aspect only during something like the last half century.