Progressive Morality: An Essay in Ethics

by Thomas Fowler

CHAPTER V.

PRACTICAL APPLICATIONS OF THE MORAL TEST.

In this chapter I propose, without any attempt to be exhaustive or systematic, to give some examples of the manner in which the test of conduct may be applied to practical questions, either by extending existing rules to cases which do not obviously fall under them, or by suggesting more refined maxims of conduct than those which are commonly prevalent. In either case, I am accepting the somewhat invidious task of pointing out defects in the commonly received theory, or the commonly approved practice, of morality. But, if morality is progressive, as I contend that it is, and progresses by the application to conduct of a test which itself involves a growing conception, the best mode of exhibiting the application of that test will be in the more recent acquisitions or the more subtle deductions of morality, rather than in its fundamental rules or most acknowledged maxims.

I shall begin with a topic, the examples of which are ready to hand, and may easily be multiplied, to almost any extent, by the reader for himself—the better realisation of our duties to society at large as distinct from particular individuals. When the primary mischief resulting from a wrong act falls upon individuals, and especially upon our neighbours or those with whom we are constantly associating, it can hardly escape our observation. And, even if it does, the probability is that our attention will be quickly called to it by the reprobation of others. But, when the consequences of the act are diffused over the whole community, or a large aggregate of persons, so that the effect on each individual is almost imperceptible, we are very apt to overlook the mischief resulting from it, and so not to recognise its wrongful character, while, at the same time, from lack of personal interest, others fail to call us to account. Hence it is that men, almost without any thought, and certainly often without any scruple, commit offences against the public or against corporations or societies or companies, which they would themselves deem it impossible for them to commit against individuals. And yet the character of the acts is exactly the same. Take smuggling. A man smuggles cigars or tobacco to an amount by which he saves himself twenty shillings, and defrauds the state to the same extent. This is simply an act of theft, only that the object of the theft is the community at large and not an individual. So far as the mischief or wrongfulness of the act goes, apart from the intention of the agent, he might as well put his hands into the pocket of one of his fellow-passengers and extract the same amount of money. The twenty shillings which, by evading payment of the duty, he has appropriated to his own uses, has been taken from the rest of the tax-payers, and he has simply shifted on to them the obligation which properly attached to himself. Sooner or later they must make up the deficit. If many men were to act in the same way, the burden of the honest tax-payer would be largely increased, and, if the practice became general, the state would have to resort to some other mode of taxation or collect its customs-revenue at a most disproportionate cost. Thus, a little reflexion shows that smuggling is really theft, and I cannot but think that it would be to the moral as well as the material advantage of the community if it were called by that name, and were visited with the same punishment as petty larceny. Exactly the same remarks, of course, apply to the evasion of income-tax, or of rates or taxes of any kind, which are imposed by a legitimate authority. Travelling on a railway without a ticket or in a higher class or for a greater distance than that for which the ticket was taken is, similarly, only a thinly disguised case of theft, and should be treated accordingly. The sale or purchase of pirated editions of books is another case of the same kind, the persons from whom the money is stolen being the authors or publishers. Many paltry acts of pilfering, such as the unauthorised use of government-paper or franks, or purloining novels or letter-paper from a club, or plucking flowers in a public garden, fall under the same head of real, though not always obvious, thefts. There is, of course, a certain degree of pettiness which makes them insignificant, but there is always a danger lest men should think too lightly of acts of this kind, whether done by themselves or others. The best safeguard, perhaps, against thoughtless wrong-doing to the community or large social aggregates is to ask ourselves these two questions: Should we commit this act, or what should we think of a man who did commit it, in the case of a private individual? What would be the result, if every one who had the opportunity were to do the same? Many of these acts would, then, stand out in their true light, and we should recognise that they are not only mean but criminal.

Other, but analogous, instances of the failure of men to realise their obligations to society or to large social aggregates are to be found in the careless and perfunctory manner in which persons employed by government, or by corporations, or large companies, often perform their duties. If they were in the service of a private employer, they would at all events realise, even if they did not act on their conviction, that they were defrauding him by idling away their time or attending to their own affairs, or those of charities or institutions in which they were interested, when they ought to be attending to the concerns of their employer. But in a government or municipal office, or the establishment of a large company, no one in particular seems to be injured by the ineffective discharge of their functions; and hence it does not occur to them that they are receiving their wages without rendering the equivalent of them. The inadequate supervision which overlooks or condones this listlessness is, of course, itself also the result of a similar failure to realise responsibility.

The spirit in which patronage is often administered affords an instance of a similar kind. If a man were engaging a person to perform some service for himself or his family, or one of his intimate friends, he would simply look to competency, including, perhaps, moral character, for the special work to be done. But, when he has to appoint to a public post, and especially if he is only one of a board of electors, he is very apt to think that there is no great harm in appointing or voting for a relative or friend, or a person who has some special bond of connexion with him, such as that of political party, though he may not be the candidate best qualified for the position. And, if it does occur to him that he is acting wrongly, he is more likely to think of the wrong which he is doing to the individual who possesses the highest qualifications (and to him it is an undoubted wrong, for it frustrates just expectations) than of the wrong which he is doing to the community or the institution which he is depriving of the services of the fittest man. And yet, if he takes the trouble to reflect, he must see that he is guilty of a breach of trust; that, having undertaken a public duty, he has abused the confidence reposed in him.

A vote given in return for a bribe, a case which now seldom occurs except in parliamentary elections, is open to the same ethical objections as a vote given on grounds of partiality; and, as the motive which dictates the breach of trust is purely selfish, it incurs the additional reproach of meanness. But why, it may be asked, should not a man accept a bribe, if, on other grounds, he would vote for the candidate who offers it? Simply, because he is encouraging a practice which would, in time, deprive Parliament of most of its more competent members, and reduce it to an oligarchy of millionaires, as well as degrading himself by a sordid act. To receive a present for a vote, even if the vote be given conscientiously, is to lend countenance to a practice which must inevitably corrupt the consciences, and pervert the judgment, of others. It hardly needs to be pointed out that the man who offers the bribe is acting still more immorally than the man who accepts it. He is not only causing others to act immorally, but, as no man can be a proper judge of his own competency, he is attempting to thrust himself into an office of trust without any regard to his fitness to fill it. Intimidation, on the part of the man who practises it, is on the same ethical level as bribery, with respect to the two points just mentioned; but, as it appeals to the fears of men instead of their love of gain, and costs nothing to him who employs it, it is more odious, and deserves, at the hands of the law, a still more severe punishment. To yield to intimidation is, under most circumstances, more excusable than to yield to bribery; for the fear of losing what one has is to most men a more powerful inducement than the hope of gaining what one has not, and, generally speaking, the penalty threatened by the intimidator is far in excess of the advantage offered by the briber.

As it betrays a vain and grasping disposition, when a man attempts to thrust himself into an office to which he is not called by the spontaneous voice of his fellow-citizens, so to refuse office, when there is an evident opportunity of doing good service to the community, betrays pride or indolence, coupled with an indifference to the public welfare. In democratic communities, there is always a tendency on the part of what may be called superfine persons to hold aloof from public, and especially municipal, life. If this sentiment of fastidiousness or indifference were to spread widely, and a fashion which begins in one social stratum quickly permeates to those immediately below it, there would be great danger, as there seems to be in America, of the public administration becoming seriously and permanently deteriorated. To prevent this evil, it is desirable to create, in every community, a strong sentiment against the practice of persons, who have the requisite means, leisure, and ability, withholding themselves from public life, when invited by their fellow-citizens to take their part in it. There may, of course, be paramount claims of another kind, such as those of science, or art, or literature, or education, but the superior importance of these claims on the individuals themselves, where they obviously exist, and where the claims of the public service are not urgent, would readily be allowed.

It seems to be a rapid transition from cases of this kind to suicide, but, amongst the many reasons, moral and religious, which may be urged against suicide, there is one which connects itself closely with the considerations which have just been under our notice. As pointed out long ago by Aristotle, the suicide wrongs the state rather than himself. Where a man is still able to do any service to the state, in either a private or a public capacity, he is under a social, and, therefore, a moral obligation to perform that service, and, consequently, to withdraw from it by a voluntary death is to desert the post of duty. This consideration, of course, holds only where a man's life is still of value to society, but it should be pointed out that, where this ceases to be the case, many other considerations often, and some always do, intervene. There are few men who have not relatives, friends, or neighbours, who will be pained, even if they are not injured materially, by an act of suicide, and, wherever the injury is a material one, as in the case of leaving helpless relatives unprovided for, it becomes an act of cruelty. Then, under all circumstances, there remain the evil example of cowardice and, to those who acknowledge the obligations of religion, the sin of cutting short the period of probation which God has assigned us.

Amongst duties to society, which are seldom fully realised in their social aspect, is the duty of bringing up children in such a manner as to render them useful to the state, instead of a burden upon it. Under this head, there are two distinct cases, that of the rich and that of the poor, or, more precisely, that of those who are in sufficiently good circumstances to educate their children without the assistance of the state or of their neighbours, and that of those who require such assistance. In the latter case, it is the duty of society to co-operate with the parent in giving the child an education which shall fit it for the industrial occupations of life, and hence the moral obligation on the richer members of a community to provide elementary schools, aided by the state or by some smaller political aggregate, or else by voluntary efforts. The object of this assistance is not so much charity to the parent or the individual children, as the prevention of crime and pauperism, and the supply of an orderly and competent industrial class. In rendering the assistance, whether it come from public or private funds, great care ought to be taken not to weaken, but, rather to stimulate, the interest of the parent in the child's progress, both by assigning to him a share of the responsibility of supervision, and, if possible, by compelling him to contribute an equitable proportion of the cost. So largely, if not so fully, are the duties of the state and of individuals of the wealthier classes, in the matter of educating the children of the poor, now recognised, that the dangers arising from a defective or injudicious education seem, in the immediate future, to threaten the richer rather than the poorer classes. Over-indulgence and the encouragement of luxurious habits during childhood; the weakened sense of responsibility, on the part of the parent, which is often caused by the transference to others of authority and supervision during boyhood or girlhood; the undue stimulation of the love of amusement, or of the craving for material comforts, during the opening years of manhood or womanhood; the failure to create serious interests or teach adequately the social responsibilities which wealth and position bring with them,—all these mistakes or defects in the education of the children of the upper classes constitute a grave peril to society, unless they are remedied in time. It seems, so far as we can forecast the future, that it is only by all classes taking pains to ascertain their respective duties and functions in sustaining and promoting the well-being of the community, and making serious efforts to perform them, that the society of the next few generations can be saved from constant convulsions. As intelligence expands, and a sense of the importance of social co-operation becomes diffused, it is almost certain that the existence of a merely idle and self-indulgent class will no longer be tolerated. Hence, it is as much to the interests of the wealthier classes themselves as of society at large, that their children should be educated with a full sense of their social responsibilities, and equipped with all the moral and intellectual aptitudes which are requisite to enable them to take a lead in the development of the community of which they are members.