Having arrived at this main conclusion, the unbeliever is at once confronted with many burning questions. I shall endeavour to outline the answers to those that seem the more pressing; but the subject is a large one, and cannot be adequately treated in a few short paragraphs. The main difficulty is, of course, the morality problem, and, if that admits of a favourable solution, we shall be in a better position to consider the next question: Should the unbeliever keep his unbelief to himself, or should he speak out?
§ 2. Why Lead a Moral Life?
PRELIMINARY REMARKS.
Let me say at once that if, after the elimination of all untruths from Christianity, we could build a belief in God and immortality on the residue, we should then have a far more powerful incentive to right conduct than anything that I am about to urge. I fully admit that to tell the ordinary mortal brought up in the Christian faith to do right for right’s sake will often be futile, inspiring though the sentiment may be for some few of us. I admit also the fact that morality always tends to the well-being of the individual and the race. It is the one and only sound argument for the working of any ethical purpose in nature, and, if we can feel that in leading the moral life we are helping to carry out some high purpose in which we are personally concerned, such a belief will certainly be of great ethical value. In the following argument, however, I hope to show that, even without a religious incentive, we have all-sufficient reasons for leading the moral life. At present our morality is bound up with a belief which is false, and which people are beginning to feel and know to be false. Therefore it is more than ever necessary that we should learn more of those reasons for morality which do not depend upon this or that belief.
THE NECESSITY FOR MORALITY.
The man who does not realise that any such cogent reasons exist will argue: “I quite understand that the welfare of society depends upon the moral conduct of its members; but why should I care for the good of society? There are many immoral things which I can do without being found out—without any harm coming to me, directly or indirectly. Neither do I believe in the familiar adage, ‘Follow nature, and you cannot go wrong.’ Civilisation is continually wrestling with nature; we go against nature a thousand times a day. Why should I not follow nature just so far as I can get out of my nerves a maximum of pleasure at the expense of a minimum of pain? Tell me, then, you who do not believe in hell or heaven, you who think we can live under a system of morality which entirely dispenses with supernatural sanctions, why should I lead a moral life?”
To this question I would reply by another: “Have you no self-respect, the commonest and most universal incentive to right conduct, and one which necessarily includes respect for others? Even if your body had health, would your mind have peace without morality?” The essence of happiness is a contented mind. Bodily ailments and other misfortunes, not of your own making, may often mar your efforts to obtain this desirable frame of mind; but the nearest approach to it that is possible will be gained by leading the moral life. Righteousness contributes usually to success and invariably to happiness, because it is in harmony with the needs and laws of health and social life. Note, please, that I say “contributes.” We are not speaking now of circumstances beyond man’s control—the calamities and catastrophes, daily and hourly occurring, in accordance with nature’s inexorable laws, which would not be affected either way by man’s conduct. Also, as there are conditions under which the body may not be affected by immorality discreetly pursued, it will be better to confine our attention to that which is always affected—the mind. This will be recognised more clearly when we grasp the fact that the true origin of the guide to conduct lies in the instincts inherited from our animal ancestors.[4]
Man is a social animal, and in his relations with his fellow-men his moral instinct is largely a development of the social instinct. To secure the happiness of the individual as well as of the community, this instinct demands satisfaction. There is nothing which depresses the mind of man or beast more than a thwarted instinct. Life, as Aristotle has well said, is energy which each individual exercises on those subjects in which he most delights. Man’s proper and natural pleasures must consist in the operations by which his work is done and his task accomplished. But various circumstances will often prevent a man or woman from exercising his or her special aptitudes. Thus a natural instinct is disappointed, and complete happiness is out of the question. In the case of the social instinct, its satisfaction, so far as possible, is a supreme necessity, if there is to be any approach to contentment of mind. To attain it there is only one course open—the moral life. Should the individual choose the immoral life, and should he even succeed in following it without suffering social ostracism, he will certainly injure not only the happiness of the community, but also his own chances of such real and permanent happiness as this world might otherwise have afforded him.