Ethics and Modern Thought: A Theory of Their Relations

by Rudolf Eucken

Having removed the obstructions which oppose the development of morality, we can now inquire into the special characteristics of the morality based on the spiritual life. Since morality recognises the principle of the spiritual life, which it absorbs into its own volition and being, therefore the nature of the spiritual life will also determine the nature of morality itself. We have already seen that the life of the spirit constitutes a new world as compared to the life which originally encompasses us in nature and society, and which, though it contains certain processes of a spiritual character, is yet mainly and fundamentally bound to the senses. The spiritual element is here disintegrated into separate manifestations, and is never free from the alloy of sense. In the new life, the spiritual gains autonomy, becomes a comprehensive whole, and is able to cultivate its own individuality. It reveals a plane of life essentially superior to that of nature. On man devolves the great task of attaining and developing this plane, on which life first acquires self-concentration and inner significance, and becomes real, genuine life.

Let us see how this affects morality. It is not confined to individual provinces of life, but extends over its whole expansion and into every ramification, demanding a change and an uplifting. This refutes a conception of morality which limits it to the relation of man to man, and makes it synonymous with altruism. Morality undoubtedly has much to do in relation to our fellow-men; but does it not also find great tasks in the culture of the soul,—in spiritual work for the world, as expressed in science and art? The quintessence of the Stoical teaching was the development of personality, the proclamation of man's inner autonomy and superiority to the world around him. We can hardly refuse to acknowledge the moral character of this teaching, as also of the Christian teaching, which found expression in men like Augustine, who brought all moral action into immediate connection with God, and derived it from love to Him.

Let us now turn to science and art. We see how, in spite of all inner and outer difficulties, a man like Kant devotes himself in unremitting activity to the lifelong task of finding pure and adequate expression for the perception of truth struggling into consciousness within him. We see how, in the same spirit, an artist scorns all external advantage, and strives only after a pure cultivation and assertion of the creative power within his soul. Must not such fidelity to oneself and to one's own work strike us as being in the highest degree moral? The ethical obligation consequently extends to all ramifications of life. Everywhere we must take possession of the spiritual life for its own sake, transpose ourselves into its inner movement, and exalt it above all concerns of the individual or even of mankind. Therefore we must not seek the highest aim of our actions in the welfare of society, of the community to which we belong.

The welfare of society is a conception capable of very different interpretations. It may mean the mere subjective well-being of people living together. In that case, a new plane of life is not attained; a social utilitarianism develops, which destroys all inner values, and the sole aim of life is to provide the means of life. But the condition of society can also be our chief aim because the new plane, with its essentially new values, is best attained through life in the community. Then we do not place ourselves merely in the service of humanity, but we labour for the development of a spiritual world within the life of man. Then humanity as a whole is uplifted, and acknowledges a great task, while social utilitarianism limits life to the human sphere, and takes from it all possibility of inner uplifting. Utilitarianism is the most dangerous opponent of spiritual productive power, for it degrades to a means what should be valued for its own sake and as the highest aim. Utilitarianism does not change its character by becoming social utilitarianism. Inner progress of life is only possible if the spiritual values, as the true, the good, and the beautiful, are striven after and appreciated for their own sake, and not as a means for promoting human welfare,—if creative production is not actuated by any consideration of results, but is an inner necessity of a man's own soul.

We have seen that the attainment of autonomy in the spiritual life implies a reversion of the original order of things, and that the whole of life is thus seen in a new light. It follows that no real morality can be engendered merely by developing existing conditions, or heightening natural forces. Wherever this was attempted, closer investigation will always show the presence of both the lower and the higher phase, and the consequent weakening of morality. Here Christianity has achieved something of world-wide historical importance: it clearly demonstrated the gulf between all merely natural development and real moral action; it has also shown us that something essentially new appears in morality, something unattainable by merely ennobling nature.

This was not only the case with religion, for the deepest thinkers of all times have seen in morality not a mere intensification, but a complete transformation. Plato made real virtue dependent on aspiration to the world of ideas. He distinguished this virtue from all that men call virtue, though to him it was little more than physical ability. Kant advocated something similar, by forbidding man to base action on inclination alone. He even went so far as to make action against natural inclination a sign of good principle. The requirement thus formulated does not preclude fruitful moral germs and impulses in the existing order of things; but their full development is only possible when a distinct reversion has taken place, and when an independent spiritual life purifies, unites, and exalts all beginnings. These alone can never, by a slow process of evolution, raise life to the plane of genuine spirituality. As we have seen, the morality of the spiritual life rejects a merely natural origin. But because it represents something essentially new, its main object cannot consist in the denial and suppression of mere nature. This was the aim of asceticism, especially in its development as a reaction against the antique over-estimation of nature. In the latter days of antiquity, life was swamped and enfeebled by a refined form of sensuality. Life could only develop if this sensuality was resisted and full supremacy was advocated for the spiritual. We can understand that those engaged in this struggle went so far as to see the highest morality in the complete suppression of sensual life. This bears witness to admirable personal feeling; and yet it was a dangerous error, for it diverted men from the great task of giving inner significance to life, and of filling it with strong and healthy love. The strictest asceticism can be united to inner hollowness, to spiritual pride, and to want of love. An ascetic element is inseparable from all morality, but only an element subject to higher aims. We feel it to have been one of the great merits of the Reformation, that it set aside the mediæval appreciation of asceticism.

If it is true that autonomy of the spiritual life results in progression towards a new plane, then only such forms of morality can satisfy us as fully acknowledge such progression and the consequent affirmation of life,—as establish the value of man, and stimulate him to strenuous effort. All systems which base morality on pity alone must therefore appear inadequate. Pity does much to free man from narrow egoism, and to inspire him with sympathy for others, even for all mankind; but pity alone shows only one side of life—only limitations and difficulties, suffering and gloom. It restricts man's outlook to this one side of life, so that he can acquire neither glad courage nor any impulse tending to the uplifting of his existence. Pity reveals no new possibilities as love does it; complete resignation here forms the highest pinnacle of the philosophy of life and not the creating of a new world.

Neither can a system of morality satisfy us which only draws up laws and regulations,—which indicates definite channels of action, without vitalising action or giving it any progressive impulse. This might suffice if man only had to take his place in a given order of things. But it is quite inadequate if the whole soul is to be gained for a new plane, and if a new order of things is to be built up within the human sphere. There is, besides, the danger of interpreting morality above all as a narrowing, a police system of life, and of thus forfeiting man's sympathy. We do not deny that the uplifting, inseparable from spiritual life, demands many struggles and renunciations. We can only rise to an affirmative by means of a decided negation—a negation rendered necessary by the brutality of mere nature and the pettiness of mere man. In the history of mankind, morality at first operated chiefly through prohibition: it was necessary to restrain the wild natural impulses and destructive passions of man, in order to prepare the way for spiritual activity. We have but to think of the frequent recurrence of prohibitive laws in the older legislation of all nations. But there is a great distinction, even in this primitive form of morality. The lower kind may remain permanently on the grade of negation, while higher forms will work their way through the negation to affirmation, and will retain consciousness of this affirmation even in presence of negation. Morality must consequently be productive in character, not merely regulative. Productive morality will press forward, not waiting till man is brought face to face with a new requirement or an opportunity of action, but taking the initiative, seeking new points of attack, bringing everything into movement, and promoting the growth of the spiritual life.

Even then, morality cannot limit its task to the ordering of private life, but must extend its activity to general conditions and human society. Life in the community must be exalted, and fitted to become the representative of spiritual life. It is one of the chief demands of modern times, that not only private life, but the whole of human society, should be subject to moral judgment and moral operation. Hegel condemned as "paltriness of faith," (Kleinkrämerei des Glaubens) men's belief in the guidance of their personal destiny by divine might and wisdom, while at the same time they believed the fate of mankind, as manifested in the history of the world, to be governed by blind unreasonable chance. We must also combat a paltriness of morality which concerns itself with the private affairs of individuals, but shows no interest and recognises no obligation with regard to what concerns humanity at large. In former times, when man was conscious of his weakness with regard to his environment, the most hopeless situation could be accepted as the will of God or as a decree of fate. But the modern man, with his consciousness of power and of his obligations towards the community, cannot reject the idea of the moral solidarity of all. He must therefore concern himself with the general conditions of mankind, and must display active interest in this direction.

Let us further consider what has been achieved by the autonomy of the spiritual life. We must first of all return to the new depth of life which we have already recognised as one of its most important results. This means that we must cultivate in ourselves a firm basis, a continuous activity which determines, vitalises, and permeates each individual action. We must develop a distinct nucleus, an essential character which is not a mere background to our activity, but an integral part of it. This being the case, morality cannot be satisfied with stimulating man to certain achievements, and setting free the forces within him; it demands of him a new life, in which he must strive to make the deepening of activity we have been considering, an essential part of all his action. This is the ideal we try to realise in the development of personality and moral character. We want not merely to act but to be something, to make something out of ourselves, to put our own personal self into our action, and to so act that we ourselves thereby grow and advance. Only then life is so concentrated on itself and becomes self-conscious and self-centred—only then can it gain significance; it will otherwise be empty and hollow inwardly, in spite of unremitting activity. This is what justifies the estimation in which the ideas of personality and character are held. Why indeed should we value it so highly, were it but an accumulation of natural forces and impulses, and not the representative and starting-point of a new life?