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AMERICAN SCIENCE SERIES

ETHICS

BY
JOHN DEWEY

Professor of Philosophy in Columbia University

AND
JAMES H. TUFTS

Professor of Philosophy in the University of Chicago

NEW YORK
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
London: GEORGE BELL AND SONS
1909

Copyright, 1908,
by
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY

PREFACE

The significance of this text in Ethics lies in its effort to awaken a vital conviction of the genuine reality of moral problems and the value of reflective thought in dealing with them. To this purpose are subordinated the presentation in Part I. of historic material; the discussion in Part II. of the different types of theoretical interpretation, and the consideration, in Part III., of some typical social and economic problems which characterize the present.

Experience shows that the student of morals has difficulty in getting the field objectively and definitely before him so that its problems strike him as real problems. Conduct is so intimate that it is not easy to analyze. It is so important that to a large extent the perspective for regarding it has been unconsciously fixed by early training. The historical method of approach has proved in the classroom experience of the authors an effective method of meeting these difficulties. To follow the moral life through typical epochs of its development enables students to realize what is involved in their own habitual standpoints; it also presents a concrete body of subject-matter which serves as material of analysis and discussion.

The classic conceptions of moral theory are of remarkable importance in illuminating the obscure places of the moral life and in giving the student clues which will enable him to explore it for himself. But there is always danger of either dogmatism or a sense of unreality when students are introduced abruptly to the theoretical ideas. Instead of serving as tools for understanding the moral facts, the ideas are likely to become substitutes for the facts. When they are proffered ready-made, their theoretical acuteness and cleverness may be admired, but their practical soundness and applicability are suspected. The historical introduction permits the student to be present, as it were, at the social situations in which the intellectual instruments were forged. He appreciates their relevancy to the conditions which provoked them, and he is encouraged to try them on simple problems before attempting the complex problems of the present. By assisting in their gradual development he gains confidence in the ideas and in his power to use them.

In the second part, devoted more specifically to the analysis and criticism of the leading conceptions of moral theory, the aim accordingly has not been to instill the notions of a school nor to inculcate a ready-made system, but to show the development of theories out of the problems and experience of every-day conduct, and to suggest how these theories may be fruitfully applied in practical exigencies. Aspects of the moral life have been so thoroughly examined that it is possible to present certain principles in the confidence that they will meet general acceptance. Rationalism and hedonism, for example, have contributed toward a scientific statement of the elements of conduct, even though they have failed as self-inclosed and final systems. After the discussions of Kant and Mill, Sidgwick and Green, Martineau and Spencer, it is possible to affirm that there is a place in the moral life for reason and a place for happiness,—a place for duty and a place for valuation. Theories are treated not as incompatible rival systems which must be accepted or rejected en bloc, but as more or less adequate methods of surveying the problems of conduct. This mode of approach facilitates the scientific estimation and determination of the part played by various factors in the complexity of moral life. The student is put in a position to judge the problems of conduct for himself. This emancipation and enlightenment of individual judgment is the chief aim of the theoretical portion.

In a considerable part of the field, particularly in the political and economic portions of Part III., no definitive treatment is as yet possible. Nevertheless, it is highly desirable to introduce the student to the examination of these unsettled questions. When the whole civilized world is giving its energies to the meaning and value of justice and democracy, it is intolerably academic that those interested in ethics should have to be content with conceptions already worked out, which therefore relate to what is least doubtful in conduct rather than to questions now urgent. Moreover, the advantages of considering theory and practice in direct relation to each other are mutual. On the one hand, as against the a priori claims of both individualism and socialism, the need of the hour seems to us to be the application of methods of more deliberate analysis and experiment. The extreme conservative may deprecate any scrutiny of the present order; the ardent radical may be impatient of the critical and seemingly tardy processes of the investigator; but those who have considered well the conquest which man is making of the world of nature cannot forbear the conviction that the cruder method of trial and error and the time-honored method of prejudice and partisan controversy need not longer completely dominate the regulation of the life of society. They hope for a larger application of the scientific method to the problems of human welfare and progress. Conversely, a science which takes part in the actual work of promoting moral order and moral progress must receive a valuable reflex influence of stimulus and of test. To consider morality in the making as well as to dwell upon values already established should make the science more vital. And whatever the effect upon the subject-matter, the student can hardly appreciate the full force of his materials and methods as long as they are kept aloof from the questions which are occupying the minds of his contemporaries.

Teachers who are limited in time will doubtless prefer to make their own selections of material, but the following suggestions present one possible line of choice. In Part I., of the three chapters dealing with the Hebrew, Greek, and modern developments, any one may be taken as furnishing an illustration of the method; and certain portions of Chapter IX. may be found more detailed in analysis than is necessary for the beginner. In Part II., Chapters XI.-XII. may be omitted without losing the thread of the argument. In Part III., any one of the specific topics—viz., the political state, the economic order, the family—may be considered apart from the others. Some teachers may prefer to take Parts in their entirety. In this case, any two may be chosen.

As to the respective shares of the work for which the authors are severally responsible, while each has contributed suggestions and criticisms to the work of the other in sufficient degree to make the book throughout a joint work, Part I. has been written by Mr. Tufts, Part II. by Mr. Dewey, and in Part III., Chapters XX. and XXI. are by Mr. Dewey, Chapters XXII.-XXVI. by Mr. Tufts.

It need scarcely be said that no attempt has been made in the bibliographies to be exhaustive. When the dates of publication of the work cited are given, the plan has been in general to give, in the case of current literature, the date of the latest edition, and in the case of some classical treatises the date of original publication.

In conclusion, the authors desire to express their indebtedness to their colleagues and friends Dr. Wright, Mr. Talbert, and Mr. Eastman, who have aided in the reading of the proof and with other suggestions.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

ETHICS

CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION

§ 1. DEFINITION AND METHOD

Provisional Definition.—The place for an accurate definition of a subject is at the end of an inquiry rather than at the beginning, but a brief definition will serve to mark out the field. Ethics is the science that deals with conduct, in so far as this is considered as right or wrong, good or bad. A single term for conduct so considered is "moral conduct," or the "moral life." Another way of stating the same thing is to say that Ethics aims to give a systematic account of our judgments about conduct, in so far as these estimate it from the standpoint of right or wrong, good or bad.

Ethical and Moral.—The terms "ethics" and "ethical" are derived from a Greek word ethos which originally meant customs, usages, especially those belonging to some group as distinguished from another, and later came to mean disposition, character. They are thus like the Latin word "moral," from mores, or the German sittlich, from Sitten. As we shall see, it was in customs, "ethos," "mores," that the moral or ethical began to appear. For customs were not merely habitual ways of acting; they were ways approved by the group or society. To act contrary to the customs of the group brought severe disapproval. This might not be formulated in precisely our terms—right and wrong, good and bad,—but the attitude was the same in essence. The terms ethical and moral as applied to the conduct of to-day imply of course a far more complex and advanced type of life than the old words "ethos" and "mores," just as economics deals with a more complex problem than "the management of a household," but the terms have a distinct value if they suggest the way in which the moral life had its beginning.

Two Aspects of Conduct.—To give a scientific account of judgments about conduct, means to find the principles which are the basis of these judgments. Conduct or the moral life has two obvious aspects. On the one hand it is a life of purpose. It implies thought and feeling, ideals and motives, valuation and choice. These are processes to be studied by psychological methods. On the other hand, conduct has its outward side. It has relations to nature, and especially to human society. Moral life is called out or stimulated by certain necessities of individual and social existence. As Protagoras put it, in mythical form, the gods gave men a sense of justice and of reverence, in order to enable them to unite for mutual preservation.[1] And in turn the moral life aims to modify or transform both natural and social environments, to build a "kingdom of man" which shall be also an ideal social order—a "kingdom of God." These relations to nature and society are studied by the biological and social sciences. Sociology, economics, politics, law, and jurisprudence deal particularly with this aspect of conduct. Ethics must employ their methods and results for this aspect of its problem, as it employs psychology for the examination of conduct on its inner side.

The Specific Problem of Ethics.—But ethics is not merely the sum of these various sciences. It has a problem of its own which is created by just this twofold aspect of life and conduct. It has to relate these two sides. It has to study the inner process as determined by the outer conditions or as changing these outer conditions, and the outward behavior or institution as determined by the inner purpose, or as affecting the inner life. To study choice and purpose is psychology; to study choice as affected by the rights of others and to judge it as right or wrong by this standard is ethics. Or again, to study a corporation may be economics, or sociology, or law; to study its activities as resulting from the purposes of persons or as affecting the welfare of persons, and to judge its acts as good or bad from such a point of view, is ethics.

Genetic Study.—When we deal with any process of life it is found to be a great aid for understanding the present conditions if we trace the history of the process and see how present conditions have come about. And in the case of morality there are four reasons in particular for examining earlier stages. The first is that we may begin our study with a simpler material. Moral life at present is extremely complex. Professional, civic, domestic, philanthropic, ecclesiastical, and social obligations claim adjustment. Interests in wealth, in knowledge, in power, in friendship, in social welfare, make demand for recognition in fixing upon what is good. It is desirable to consider first a simpler problem. In the second place, this complex moral life is like the human body in that it contains "rudiments" and "survivals." Some of our present standards and ideals were formed at one period in the past, and some at another. Some of these apply to present conditions and some do not. Some are at variance with others. Many apparent conflicts in moral judgments are explained when we discover how the judgments came to be formed in the first instance. We cannot easily understand the moral life of to-day except in the light of earlier morality. The third reason is that we may get a more objective material for study. Our moral life is so intimate a part of ourselves that it is hard to observe impartially. Its characteristics escape notice because they are so familiar. When we travel we find the customs, laws, and moral standards of other peoples standing out as "peculiar." Until we have been led by some such means to compare our own conduct with that of others it probably does not occur to us that our own standards are also peculiar, and hence in need of explanation. It is as difficult scientifically as it is personally "to see ourselves as others see us." It is doubtless true that to see ourselves merely as others see us would not be enough. Complete moral analysis requires us to take into our reckoning motives and purposes which may perhaps be undiscoverable by the "others." But it is a great aid to this completer analysis if we can sharpen our vision and awaken our attention by a comparative study. A fourth reason for a genetic study is that it emphasizes the dynamic, progressive character of morality. Merely to examine the present may easily give the impression that the moral life is not a life, a moving process, something still in the making—but a changeless structure. There is moral progress as well as a moral order. This may be discovered by an analysis of the very nature of moral conduct, but it stands out more clearly and impressively if we trace the actual development in history. Before attempting our analysis of the present moral consciousness and its judgments, we shall therefore give an outline of the earlier stages and simpler phases.

Theory and Practice.—Finally, if we can discover ethical principles these ought to give some guidance for the unsolved problems of life which continually present themselves for decision. Whatever may be true for other sciences it would seem that ethics at least ought to have some practical value. "In this theater of man's life it is reserved for God and the angels to be lookers on." Man must act; and he must act well or ill, rightly or wrongly. If he has reflected, has considered his conduct in the light of the general principles of human order and progress, he ought to be able to act more intelligently and freely, to achieve the satisfaction that always attends on scientific as compared with uncritical or rule-of-thumb practice. Socrates gave the classic statement for the study of conduct when he said, "A life unexamined, uncriticized, is not worthy of man."

§ 2. CRITERION OF THE MORAL

It is not proposed to attempt at this point an accurate or minute statement of what is implied in moral conduct, as this is the task of Part II. But for the purposes of tracing in Part I. the beginnings of morality, it is desirable to have a sort of rough chart to indicate to the student what to look for in the earlier stages of his exploration, and to enable him to keep his bearings on the way.

Certain of the characteristics of the moral may be seen in a cross-section, a statement of the elements in moral conduct at a given time. Other characteristics come out more clearly by comparing later with earlier stages. We give first a cross-section.

1. Characteristics of the Moral Life in Cross-section.—In this cross-section the first main division is suggested by the fact that we sometimes give our attention to what is done or intended, and sometimes to how or why the act is done. These divisions may turn out to be less absolute than they seem, but common life uses them and moral theories have often selected the one or the other as the important aspect. When we are told to seek peace, tell the truth, or aim at the greatest happiness of the greatest number, we are charged to do or intend some definite act. When we are urged to be conscientious or pure in heart the emphasis is on a kind of attitude that might go with a variety of acts. A newspaper advocates a good measure. So far, so good. But people may ask, what is the motive in this? and if this is believed to be merely selfish, they do not credit the newspaper with having genuine interest in reform. On the other hand, sincerity alone is not enough. If a man advocates frankly and sincerely a scheme for enriching himself at the public expense we condemn him. We say his very frankness shows his utter disregard for others. One of the great moral philosophers has indeed said that to act rationally is all that is necessary, but he at once goes on to claim that this implies treating every man as an end and not merely a means, and this calls for a particular kind of action. Hence we may assume for the present purpose a general agreement that our moral judgments take into account both what is done or intended, and how or why the act is done. These two aspects are sometimes called the "matter" and the "form," or the "content" and the attitude. We shall use the simpler terms, the What and the How.

The "What" as a Criterion.—If we neglect for the moment the How and think of the What, we find two main standpoints employed in judging: one is that of "higher" and "lower" within the man's own self; the other is his treatment of others.

The distinction between a higher and lower self has many guises. We speak of a man as "a slave to his appetites," of another as possessed by greed for money, of another as insatiately ambitious. Over against these passions we hear the praise of scientific pursuits, of culture, of art, of friendship, of meditation, or of religion. We are bidden to think of things σέμνα, nobly serious. A life of the spirit is set off against the life of the flesh, the finer against the coarser, the nobler against the baser. However misguided the forms in which this has been interpreted, there is no doubt as to the reality of the conflicting impulses which give rise to the dualism. The source is obvious. Man would not be here if self-preservation and self-assertion and sex instinct were not strongly rooted in his system. These may easily become dominant passions. But just as certainly, man cannot be all that he may be unless he controls these impulses and passions by other motives. He has first to create for himself a new world of ideal interests before he finds his best life. The appetites and instincts may be "natural," in the sense that they are the beginning; the mental and spiritual life is "natural," as Aristotle puts it, in the sense that man's full nature is developed only in such a life.

The other aspect of the What, the treatment of others, need not detain us. Justice, kindness, the conduct of the Golden Rule are the right and good. Injustice, cruelty, selfishness are the wrong and the bad.

Analysis of the How: the Right and the Good.—We have used right and good as though they might be used interchangeably in speaking of conduct. Perhaps this may in the end prove to be true. If an act is right, then the hero or the saint may believe that it is also good; if an act is good in the fullest sense, then it will commend itself as right. But right and good evidently approach conduct from two different points of view. These might have been noted when speaking of the content or the What, but they are more important in considering the How.

It is evident that when we speak of conduct as right we think of it as before a judge. We bring the act to a standard, and measure the act. We think too of this standard as a "moral law" which we "ought" to obey. We respect its authority and hold ourselves responsible. The standard is conceived as a control over our impulses and desires. The man who recognizes such a law and is anxious to find and to do his duty, we call conscientious; as governing his impulses, he has self-control; as squaring his conduct strictly by his standard, he is upright and reliable.

If I think of "good," I am approaching conduct from the standpoint of value. I am thinking of what is desirable. This too is a standard, but it is a standard regarded as an end to be sought rather than as a law. I am to "choose" it and identify myself with it, rather than to control myself by it. It is an "ideal." The conscientious man, viewed from this standpoint, would seek to discover the true good, to value his ends, to form ideals, instead of following impulse or accepting any seeming good without careful consideration. In so far as impulses are directed by ideals the thoroughly good man will be straightforward, "sincere": that is, he will not be moved to do the good act by fear of punishment, or by bribery, just as the upright man will be "governed by a sense of duty," of "respect for principles."

Summary of the Characteristics of the Moral.—To sum up the main characteristics of the moral life viewed in cross-section, or when in full activity, we may state them as follows:

On the side of the "what," there are two aspects:

(a) The dominance of "higher," ideal interests of knowledge, art, freedom, rights, and the "life of the spirit."

(b) Regard for others, under its various aspects of justice, sympathy, and benevolence.

On the side of the "how" the important aspects are:

(a) The recognition of some standard, which may arise either as a control in the guise of "right" and "law," or as measure of value in the form of an ideal to be followed or good to be approved.

(b) A sense of duty and respect for the law; sincere love of the good.

(a) and (b) of this latter division are both included under the "conscientious" attitude.

2. The Moral as a Growth.—The psychologists distinguish three stages in conduct: (a) Instinctive activity. (b) Attention; the stage of conscious direction or control of action by imagery; of deliberation, desire, and choice. (c) Habit; the stage of unconscious activity along lines set by previous action. Consciousness thus "occupies a curious middle ground between hereditary reflex and automatic activities upon the one hand and acquired habitual activities upon the other." Where the original equipment of instincts fails to meet some new situation, when there are stimulations for which the system has no ready-made response, consciousness appears. It selects from the various responses those which suit the purpose, and when these responses have become themselves automatic, habitual, consciousness "betakes itself elsewhere to points where habitual accommodatory movements are as yet wanting and needed."[2] To apply this to the moral development we need only to add that this process repeats itself over and over. The starting-point for each later repetition is not the hereditary instinct, but the habits which have been formed. For the habits formed at one age of the individual's life, or at one stage of race development, prove inadequate for more complex situations. The child leaves home, the savage tribe changes to agricultural life, and the old habits no longer meet the need. Attention is again demanded. There is deliberation, struggle, effort. If the result is successful new habits are formed, but upon a higher level. For the new habits, the new character, embody more intelligence. The first stage, purely instinctive action, we do not call moral conduct. It is of course not immoral; it is merely unmoral. The second stage shows morality in the making. It includes the process of transition from impulse, through desire to will. It involves the stress of conflicting interests, the processes of deliberation and valuation, and the final act of choice. It will be illustrated in our treatment of race development by the change from early group life and customs to the more conscious moral life of higher civilization. The third stage, well-organized character, is the goal of the process. But it is evidently only a relative point. A good man has built up a set of habits; a good society has established certain laws and moral codes. But unless the man or society is in a changeless world with no new conditions there will be new problems. And this means that however good the habit was for its time and purpose there must be new choices and new valuations. A character that would run automatically in every case would be pretty nearly a mechanism. It is therefore the second stage of this process that is the stage of active moral consciousness. It is upon this that we focus our attention.

Moral growth from the first on through the second stage may be described as a process in which man becomes more rational, more social, and finally more moral. We examine briefly each of these aspects.

The Rationalizing or Idealizing Process.—The first need of the organism is to live and grow. The first instincts and impulses are therefore for food, self-defence, and other immediate necessities. Primitive men eat, sleep, fight, build shelters, and give food and protection to their offspring. The "rationalizing" process will mean at first greater use of intelligence to satisfy these same wants. It will show itself in skilled occupations, in industry and trade, in the utilizing of all resources to further man's power and happiness. But to rationalize conduct is also to introduce new ends. It not only enables man to get what he wants; it changes the kind of objects that he wants. This shows itself externally in what man makes and in how he occupies himself. He must of course have food and shelter. But he makes temples and statues and poems. He makes myths and theories of the world. He carries on great enterprises in commerce or government, not so much to gratify desires for bodily wants as to experience the growth of power. He creates a family life which is raised to a higher level by art and religion. He does not live by bread only, but builds up gradually a life of reason. Psychologically this means that whereas at the beginning we want what our body calls for, we soon come to want things which the mind takes an interest in. As we form by memory, imagination, and reason a more continuous, permanent, highly-organized self, we require a far more permanent and ideal kind of good to satisfy us. This gives rise to the contrast between the material and ideal selves, or in another form, between "the world" and "the spirit."

The Socializing Process.—The "socializing" side of the process of development stands for an increased capacity to enter into relations with other human beings. Like the growth of reason it is both a means and an end. It has its roots in certain instincts—sex, gregariousness, parental instincts—and in the necessities of mutual support and protection. But the associations thus formed imply a great variety of activities which call out new powers and set up new ends. Language is one of the first of these activities and a first step toward more complete socialization. Coöperation, in all kinds of enterprises, interchange of services and goods, participation in social arts, associations for various purposes, institutions of blood, family, government, and religion, all add enormously to the individual's power. On the other hand, as he enters into these relations and becomes a "member" of all these bodies he inevitably undergoes a transformation in his interests. Psychologically the process is one of building up a "social" self. Imitation and suggestion, sympathy and affection, common purpose and common interest, are the aids in building such a self. As the various instincts, emotions, and purposes are more definitely organized into such a unit, it becomes possible to set off the interests of others against those interests that center in my more individual good. Conscious egoism and altruism become possible. And in a way that will be explained, the interests of self and others are raised to the plane of rights and justice.

What is Needed to Make Conduct Moral.—All this is not yet moral progress in the fullest sense. The progress to more rational and more social conduct is the indispensable condition of the moral, but not the whole story. What is needed is that the more rational and social conduct should itself be valued as good, and so be chosen and sought; or in terms of control, that the law which society or reason prescribes should be consciously thought of as right, used as a standard, and respected as binding. This gives the contrast between the higher and lower, as a conscious aim, not merely as a matter of taste. It raises the collision between self and others to the basis of personal rights and justice, of deliberate selfishness or benevolence. Finally it gives the basis for such organization of the social and rational choices that the progress already gained may be permanently secured, while the attention, the struggle between duty and inclination, the conscious choice, move forward to a new issue. Aristotle made these points clear:

"But the virtues are not in this point analogous to the arts. The products of art have their excellence in themselves, and so it is enough if when produced they are of a certain quality; but in the case of the virtues, a man is not said to act justly or temperately (or like a just or temperate man) if what he does merely be of a certain sort—he must also be in a certain state of mind when he does it: i.e., first of all, he must know what he is doing; secondly, he must choose it, and choose it for itself; and, thirdly, his act must be the expression of a formed and stable character."

Summary of the Characteristics of the Moral as Growth.—The full cycle has three stages:

(a) Instinctive or habitual action.

(b) Action under the stress of attention, with conscious intervention and reconstruction.

(c) Organization of consciously directed conduct into habits and a self of a higher order: Character.

The advance from (a) to and through (b) has three aspects.

(a) It is a rationalizing and idealizing process. Reason is both a means to secure other ends, and an element in determining what shall be sought.

(b) It is a socializing process. Society both strengthens and transforms the individual.

(c) It is a process in which finally conduct itself is made the conscious object of reflection, valuation, and criticism. In this the definitely moral conceptions of right and duty, good and virtue appear.

§ 3. DIVISIONS OF THE TREATMENT

Part I., after a preliminary presentation of certain important aspects of group life, will first trace the process of moral development in its general outlines, and then give specific illustrations of the process taken from the life of Israel, of Greece, and of modern civilization.

Part II. will analyze conduct or the moral life on its inner, personal side. After distinguishing more carefully what is meant by moral action, and noting some typical ways in which the moral life has been viewed by ethical theory, it will examine the meaning of right and good, of duty and virtue, and seek to discover the principles underlying moral judgments and moral conduct.

Part III. will study conduct as action in society. But instead of a general survey, attention will be centered upon three phases of conduct which are of especial interest and importance. Political rights and duties, the production, distribution, and ownership of wealth, and finally the relations of domestic and family life, all present unsettled problems. These challenge the student to make a careful examination, for he must take some attitude as citizen on the issues involved.

LITERATURE

The literature on specific topics will be found at the beginning of each Part, and at the close of the several chapters. We indicate here some of the more useful manuals and recent representative works, and add some specific references on the scope and methods of ethics. Baldwin's Dictionary of Philosophy and Psychology has selected lists (see especially articles, Ethical Theories, Ethics, Worth) and general lists (Vol. III.). Runze, Ethik, 1891, has good bibliographies.

Elementary Texts: Mackenzie, Manual of Ethics, 3rd ed., 1900; Muirhead, Elements of Ethics, 1892; Seth, A Study of Ethical Principles, 6th ed., 1902; Thilly, Introduction to Ethics, 1900.

Representative Books and Treatises in English: Green, Prolegomena to Ethics, 1883 (Idealism); Martineau, Types of Ethical Theory, 1885, 3rd ed., 1891 (Intuitionism); Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics, 1874, 6th ed., 1901 (Union of Intuitionist and Utilitarian Positions with careful analysis of common sense); Spencer, The Principles of Ethics, 1892-3 (Evolution); Stephen's Science of Ethics, 1882; The comprehensive work of Paulsen (System der Ethik, 1889, 5th ed., 1900) has been translated in part by Thilly, 1899; that of Wundt (Ethik, 1886, 3rd ed., 1903), by Titchener, Gulliver, and Washburn, 1897-1901. Among the more recent contributions, either to the whole field or to specific parts, may be noted: Alexander, Moral Order and Progress, 1889; 2nd ed., 1891; Dewey, Outlines of Ethics, 1891, and The Study of Ethics, A Syllabus, 1894; Fite, An Introductory Study of Ethics, 1903; Höffding, Ethik (German tr.), 1887; Janet, The Theory of Morals (Eng. tr.), 1884; Ladd, The Philosophy of Conduct, 1902; Mezes, Ethics, Descriptive and Explanatory, 1900; Moore, Principia Ethica, 1903; Palmer, The Field of Ethics, 1902, The Nature of Goodness, 1903; Taylor, The Problem of Conduct, 1901; Rashdall, The Theory of Good and Evil, 1907; Bowne, The Principles of Ethics, 1892; Rickaby, Moral Philosophy, 1888.

Histories of Ethics: Sidgwick, History of Ethics, 3rd ed., 1892; Albee, A History of English Utilitarianism, 1902; Stephen, The Utilitarians, 1900; Martineau, Types of Ethical Theory; Whewell, Lectures on the History of Moral Philosophy in England, 1852, 1862; Köstlin, Geschichte der Ethik, 2 vols., 1881-92 (ancient theories); Jodl, Geschichte der Ethik, 2 vols., 1882-89 (modern); Wundt, Ethik, Vol. II.; the histories of philosophy by Windelband, Höffding, Erdmann, Ueberweg, Falckenberg.

Scope and Method of Ethics: See the opening chapters in nearly all the works cited above, especially Palmer (Field of Ethics), Moore, Stephen, Spencer, Paulsen, and Wundt (Facts of the Moral Life); see also Ritchie, Philosophical Studies, 1905, pp. 264-291; Wallace, Lectures and Essays on Natural Theology and Ethics, 1898, pp. 194 ff.; Dewey, Logical Conditions of a Scientific Treatment of Morality (University of Chicago Decennial Publications, 1903); Stuart, The Logic of Self-realization, in University of California Publications: Philosophy, I., 1904; Small, The Significance of Sociology for Ethics, 1902; Hadley, Article Economic Theory in Baldwin's Dict.

Relation of Theory to Life: Green, Prolegomena, Book IV.; Dewey, International Journal of Ethics, Vol. I., 1891, pp. 186-203; James, same journal, Vol. I., 330-354; Mackenzie, same journal, Vol. IV., 1894, pp. 160-173.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Plato, Protagoras, 320 ff.

[2] Angell, Psychology, p. 59.

PART I
THE BEGINNINGS AND GROWTH OF MORALITY

GENERAL LITERATURE FOR PART I

Hobhouse, Morals in Evolution, 2 vols., 1906.

Westermarck, The Origin and Development of Moral Ideas, Vol. I., 1906.

Sutherland, The Origin and Growth of the Moral Instinct, 2 vols., 1898.

Wundt, Facts of the Moral Life, 1902; also Ethik, 3rd ed., 1903, Vol. I., pp. 280-523.

Paulsen, A System of Ethics, 1899, Book I.

Sumner, Folkways, 1907.

Bergmann, Ethik als Kulturphilosophie, 1904.

Mezes, Ethics, Descriptive and Explanatory, Part I.

Dewey, The Evolutionary Method as Applied to Morality, Philos. Review, XI., 1902, pp. 107-124, 353-371.

Adam Smith, Theory of Moral Sentiments, 1759.

Baldwin, Social and Ethical Interpretations, 1902.

Taylor, The Problem of Conduct, 1901, chap. iii.

Spencer, Data of Ethics, 1879; Psychology, 1872, Part IX., chs. v.-viii.

Ihering, Der Zweck im Recht, 3rd ed., 1893.

Steinthal, Allgemeine Ethik, 1885.

CHAPTER II
EARLY GROUP LIFE

To understand the origin and growth of moral life, it is essential to understand primitive society. And while there is much that is uncertain, there is one fact of capital importance which stands out clearly. This is the dominant influence of group life. It is not asserted that all peoples have had precisely the same type of groups, or the same degree of group solidarity. It is beyond question that the ancestors of modern civilized races lived under the general types of group life which will be outlined, and that these types or their survivals are found among the great mass of peoples to-day.

§ 1. TYPICAL FACTS OF GROUP LIFE

Consider the following incident as related by Dr. Gray:

"A Chinese aided by his wife flogged his mother. The imperial order not only commanded that the criminals should be put to death; it further directed that the head of the clan should be put to death; that the immediate neighbors each receive eighty blows and be sent into exile; that the head or representatives of the graduates of the first degree (or B.A.) among whom the male offender ranked should be flogged and exiled; that the granduncle, the uncle, and two elder brothers should be put to death; that the prefect and the rulers should for a time be deprived of their rank; that on the face of the mother of the female offender four Chinese characters expressive of neglect of duty towards her daughter should be tattooed, and that she be exiled to a distant province; that the father of the female offender, a bachelor of arts, should not be allowed to take any higher literary degrees, and that he be flogged and exiled; that the son of the offenders should receive another name, and that the lands of the offender for a time remain fallow." (J. H. Gray, China, Vol. I., pp. 237 f.)

Put beside this the story of Achan:

Achan had taken for his own possession certain articles from the spoil of Jericho which had been set apart or "devoted" to Jehovah. Israel then suffered a defeat in battle. When Achan's act became known, "Joshua and all Israel with him took Achan, the son of Zerah, and the mantle, and the wedge of gold, and his sons and his daughters, and his oxen, and his asses, and his sheep, and his tent, and all that he had.... And all Israel stoned him with stones; and they burned them with fire and stoned them with stones." (Joshua vii: 24, 25.)

The converse of these situations is brought out in the regulations of the Kumi, a Japanese local institution comprising five or more households:

"As members of a Kumi we will cultivate friendly feelings even more than with our relatives, and will promote each other's happiness as well as share each other's grief. If there is an unprincipled or lawless person in a Kumi, we shall all share the responsibility for him." (Simmons and Wigmore, Transactions, Asiatic Society of Japan, xix., 177 f.)

For another aspect of the group take Cæsar's description of landholding among the Germans:

"No one possesses privately a definite extent of land; no one has limited fields of his own; but every year the magistrates and chiefs distribute the land to the clans and the kindred groups (gentibus cognationibusque hominum) and to those (other groups) who live together." (De Bell. Gall., VI., 22.)

Of the Greeks, our intellectual ancestors, as well as fellow Aryans, it is stated that in Attica, even to a late period, the land remained to a large degree in possession of ideal persons, gods, phylæ (tribes) or phratries, kinships, political communities. Even when the superficies of the land might be regarded as private, mines were reserved as public.[3] The basis on which these kinship groups rested is thus stated by Grote:[4]

"All these phratric and gentile associations, the larger as well as the smaller, were founded upon the same principles and tendencies of the Grecian mind—a coalescence of the idea of worship with that of ancestry, or of communion in certain special religious rites with communion of blood, real or supposed." "The god or hero, to whom the assembled members offered their sacrifices, was conceived as the primitive ancestor to whom they owed their origin."

Coulanges gives a similar statement as to the ancient family group:[5]

"The members of the ancient family were united by something more powerful than birth, affection, or physical strength; this was the religion of the sacred fire, and of dead ancestors. This caused the family to form a single body both in this life and in the next."

Finally, the following passage on clanship among the Kafirs brings out two points: (1) That such a group life implies feelings and ideas of a distinctive sort; and (2) that it has a strength rooted in the very necessities of life.

"A Kafir feels that the 'frame that binds him in' extends to the clan. The sense of solidarity of the family in Europe is thin and feeble compared to the full-blooded sense of corporate union of the Kafir clan. The claims of the clan entirely swamp the rights of the individual. The system of tribal solidarity, which has worked so well in its smoothness that it might satisfy the utmost dreams of the socialist, is a standing proof of the sense of corporate union of the clan. In olden days a man did not have any feeling of personal injury when a chief made him work for white men and then told him to give all, or nearly all of his wages to his chief; the money was kept within the clan, and what was the good of the clan was the good of the individual and vice versa. The striking thing about this unity of the clan is that it was not a thought-out plan imposed from without by legislation upon an unwilling people, but it was a felt-out plan which arose spontaneously along the line of least resistance. If one member of the clan suffered, all the members suffered, not in sentimental phraseology, but in real fact." (Dudley Kidd, Savage Childhood, pp. 74 f.)

The above passages refer to Aryan, Semitic, Mongolian, and Kafir peoples. They could be matched by similar statements concerning nearly every people. They suggest a way of living, and a view of life very different from that of the American or of most Europeans.[6] The American or European belongs to groups of various kinds, but he "joins" most of them. He of course is born into a family, but he does not stay in it all his life unless he pleases. And he may choose his own occupation, residence, wife, political party, religion, social club, or even national allegiance. He may own or sell his own house, give or bequeath his property, and is responsible generally speaking for no one's acts but his own. This makes him an "individual" in a much fuller sense than he would be if all these relations were settled for him. On the other hand, the member of such groups as are referred to in our examples above, has all, or nearly all, his relations fixed when he is born into a certain clan or family group. This settles his occupation, dwelling, gods, and politics. If it doesn't decide upon his wife, it at least usually fixes the group from which she must be taken. His conditions, in the words of Maine, are thus of "status," not of "contract." This makes a vast difference in his whole attitude. It will help to bring out more clearly by contrast the character of present morality, as well as to see moral life in the making, if we examine more carefully this group life. We shall find, as brought out in the passages already quoted, that the most important type of group is at once a kindred or family, an economic, a political, a religious, and a moral unit. First, however, we notice briefly the most important types of groups.

§ 2. KINSHIP AND HOUSEHOLD GROUPS

1. The Kinship Group.—The kinship group is a body of persons who conceive of themselves as sprung from one ancestor, and hence as having in their veins one blood. It does not matter for our study whether each group has actually sprung from a single ancestor. It is highly probable that the contingencies of food-supply or of war may have been an original cause for the constitution of the group, wholly or in part. But this is of no consequence for our purpose. The important point is that the members of the group regard themselves as of one stock. In some cases the ancestor is believed to have been an animal. Then we have the so-called totem group, which is found among North American Indians, Africans, and Australians, and was perhaps the early form of Semitic groups. In other cases, some hero or even some god is named as the ancestor. In any case the essential part of the theory remains the same: namely, that one blood circulates in all the members, and hence that the life of each is a part of the common life of the group. There are then no degrees of kindred. This group, it should be noted, is not the same as the family, for in the family, as a rule, husband and wife are of different kinship groups, and continue their several kinship relations. Among some peoples marriage ceremonies, indeed, symbolize the admission of the wife into the husband's kinship, and in this case the family becomes a kinship group, but this is by no means universally the case.

The feeling that one is first and foremost a member of a group, rather than an individual, is furthered among certain kin groups by a scheme of class relationship. According to this system, instead of having one definite person whom I, and I alone, regard and address as father or mother, grandfather, uncle, brother, sister, I call any one of a given group or class of persons mother, grandfather, brother, sister. And any one else who is in the same class with me calls the same persons, mother, grandfather, brother, or sister.[7] The simplest form of such a class system is that found among the Hawaiians. Here there are five classes based upon the generations corresponding to what we call grandparents, parents, brothers and sisters, children, and grandchildren, but the words used to designate them do not imply any such specific parentage as do these words with us. Bearing this in mind, we may say that every one in the first class is equally grandparent to every one in the third; every one in the third is equally brother or sister to every other in the third, equally father or mother to every one in the fourth, and so on. In Australia the classes are more numerous and the relationships far more intricate and complicated, but this does not, as might be supposed, render the bond relatively unimportant; on the contrary, his relationship to every other class is "one of the most important points with which each individual must be acquainted"; it determines marital relations, food distribution, salutations, and general conduct to an extraordinary degree. A kinship group was known as "tribe" or "family" (English translation) among the Israelites; as genos, phratria, and phyle among the Greeks, gens and curia among the Romans; clan in Scotland; sept in Ireland; Sippe in Germany.

2. The Family or Household Group.—Two kinds of families may be noted as significant for our purpose. In the maternal family the woman remains among her own kin, and the children are naturally reckoned as belonging to the mother's kin. The husband and father is more or less a guest or outsider. In a blood feud he would have to side with his own clan and against that of his wife if his clan quarreled with hers. Clan and family are thus seen to be distinct. In the paternal, which easily becomes the patriarchal family the wife leaves her relatives to live in her husband's house and among his kin. She might then, as at Rome, abjure her own kindred and be formally adopted into her husband's gens or clan. The Greek myth of Orestes is an illustration of the clashing of these two conceptions of father kin and mother kin, and Hamlet's sparing of his mother under similar circumstances, shows a more modern point of view.

It is evident that with the prevalence of the paternal type of family, clan and household ties will mutually strengthen each other. This will make an important difference in the father's relation to the children, and gives a much firmer basis for ancestral religion. But in many respects the environing atmosphere, the pressure and support, the group sympathy and group tradition, are essentially similar. The important thing is that every person is a member of a kindred, and likewise, of some family group, and that he thinks, feels, and acts accordingly.[8]

§ 3. THE KINSHIP AND FAMILY GROUPS ARE ALSO ECONOMIC AND INDUSTRIAL UNITS

1. The Land and the Group.—In land, as a rule, no individual ownership in the modern sense was recognized. Among hunting and pastoral peoples there was, of course, no "ownership" by any group in the strict sense of modern law. But none the less, the group, large or small, had its fairly well-defined territory within which it hunted and fished; in the pastoral life it had its pasture range and its wells of water. With agriculture a more definite sense of possession arose. But possession was by the tribe or gens or household, not by the individual:

"The land belonged to the clan, and the clan was settled upon the land. A man was thus not a member of the clan, because he lived upon, or even owned, the land; but he lived upon the land, and had interests in it, because he was a member of the clan."[9]

Greek and German customs were quoted at the outset. Among the Celts the laws of ancient Ireland show a transitional stage. "The land of the tribe consisted of two distinct allotments, the 'fechfine' or tribeland, and the 'orta' or inheritance land. This latter belonged as individual property to the men of the chieftain groups."[10] The Hindoo joint-family and the house-community of the Southern Slavonians are present examples of group ownership. They are joint in food, worship, and estate. They have a common home, a common table. Maxims of the Slavs express their appreciation of community life: "The common household waxes rich"; "The more bees in the hive, the heavier it weighs." One difficulty in the English administration of Ireland has been this radical difference between the modern Englishman's individualistic conception of property and the Irishman's more primitive conception of group or clan ownership. Whether rightly or not, the Irish tenant refuses to regard himself as merely a tenant. He considers himself as a member of a family or group which formerly owned the land, and he does not admit the justice, even though he cannot disprove the legality, of an alienation of the group possession. For such a clan or household as we have described is not merely equivalent to the persons who compose it at a given time. Its property belongs to the ancestors and to the posterity as well as to the present possessors; and hence in some groups which admit an individual possession or use during life, no right of devise or inheritance is permitted. The property reverts at death to the whole gens or clan. In other cases a child may inherit, but in default of such an heir the property passes to the common possession. The right to bequeath property to the church was long a point on which civil law and canon law were at variance. The relations of the primitive clan or household group to land were therefore decidedly adapted to keep the individual's good bound up with the good of the group.

2. Movable Goods.—In the case of movable goods, such as tools, weapons, cattle, the practice is not uniform. When the goods are the product of the individual's own skill or prowess they are usually his. Tools, weapons, slaves or women captured, products of some special craft or skill, are thus usually private. But when the group acts as a unit the product is usually shared. The buffalo and salmon and large game were thus for the whole Indian group which hunted or fished together; and in like manner the maize which was tended by the women belonged to the household in common. Slavic and Indian house communities at the present day have a common interest in the household property. Even women and children among some tribes are regarded as the property of the group.

§ 4. THE KINSHIP AND FAMILY GROUPS WERE POLITICAL BODIES

In a modern family the parents exercise a certain degree of control over the children, but this is limited in several respects. No parent is allowed to put a child to death, or to permit him to grow up in ignorance. On the other hand, the parent is not allowed to protect the child from arrest if a serious injury has been done by him. The State, through its laws and officers, is regarded by us as the highest authority in a certain great sphere of action. It must settle conflicting claims and protect life and property; in the opinion of many it must organize the life of its members where the coöperation of every member is necessary for some common good. In early group life there may or may not be some political body over and above the clan or family, but in any case the kin or family is itself a sort of political State. Not a State in the sense that the political powers are deliberately separated from personal, religious, and family ties; men gained a new conception of authority and rose to a higher level of possibilities when they consciously separated and defined government and laws from the undifferentiated whole of a religious and kindred group. But yet this primitive group was after all a State, not a mob, or a voluntary society, or a mere family; for (1) it was a more or less permanently organized body; (2) it exercised control over its members which they regarded as rightful authority, not as mere force; (3) it was not limited by any higher authority, and acted more or less effectively for the interest of the whole. The representatives of this political aspect of the group may be chiefs or sachems, a council of elders, or, as in Rome, the House Father, whose patria potestas marks the extreme development of the patriarchal family.

The control exercised by the group over individual members assumes various forms among the different peoples. The more important aspects are a right over life and bodily freedom, in some cases extending to power of putting to death, maiming, chastising, deciding whether newly born children shall be preserved or not; the right of betrothal, which includes control over the marriage portion received for its women; and the right to administer property of the kin in behalf of the kin as a whole. It is probable that among all these various forms of control, the control over the marriage relations of women has been most persistent. One reason for this control may have been the fact that the group was bound to resent injuries of a member of the group who had been married to another. Hence this responsibility seemed naturally to involve the right of decision as to her marriage.

It is Membership in the Group Which Gives the Individual Whatever Rights He Has.—According to present conceptions this is still largely true of legal rights. A State may allow a citizen of another country to own land, to sue in its courts, and will usually give him a certain amount of protection, but the first-named rights are apt to be limited, and it is only a few years since Chief Justice Taney's dictum stated the existing legal theory of the United States to be that the negro "had no rights which the white man was bound to respect." Even where legal theory does not recognize race or other distinctions, it is often hard in practice for an alien to get justice. In primitive clan or family groups this principle is in full force. Justice is a privilege which falls to a man as belonging to some group—not otherwise. The member of the clan or the household or the village community has a claim, but the stranger has no standing. He may be treated kindly, as a guest, but he cannot demand "justice" at the hands of any group but his own. In this conception of rights within the group we have the prototype of modern civil law. The dealing of clan with clan is a matter of war or negotiation, not of law; and the clanless man is an "outlaw" in fact as well as in name.

Joint Responsibility and mutual support, as shown in the blood feud, was a natural consequence of this fusion of political and kindred relations. In modern life States treat each other as wholes in certain respects. If some member of a savage tribe assaults a citizen of one of the civilized nations, the injured party invokes the help of his government. A demand is usually made that the guilty party be delivered up for trial and punishment. If he is not forthcoming a "punitive expedition" is organized against the whole tribe; guilty and innocent suffer alike. Or in lieu of exterminating the offending tribe, in part or completely, the nation of the injured man may accept an indemnity in money or land from the offender's tribe. Recent dealings between British and Africans, Germans and Africans, France and Morocco, the United States and the Filipinos, the Powers and China, illustrate this. The State protects its own members against other States, and avenges them upon other States. Each opposes a united body to the other. The same principle carried out through private citizens as public agents, and applied to towns, is seen in the practice which prevailed in the Middle Ages. "When merchants of one country had been defrauded by those of another, or found it impossible to collect a debt from them, the former country issued letters of marque and reprisal, authorizing the plunder of any citizens of the offending town until satisfaction should be obtained." Transfer the situation to the early clan or tribe, and this solidarity is increased because each member is related to the rest by blood, as well as by national unity. The Arabs do not say "The blood of M. or N. has been spilt," naming the man; they say, "Our blood has been spilt."[11] The whole group, therefore, feels injured and regards every man in the offender's kin as more or less responsible. The next of kin, the "avenger of blood," stands first in duty and privilege, but the rest are all involved in greater or less degree.

Within the Group each member will be treated more or less fully as an individual. If he takes his kinsman's wife or his kinsman's game he will be dealt with by the authorities or by the public opinion of his group. He will not indeed be put to death if he kills his kinsman, but he will be hated, and may be driven out. "Since the living kin is not killed for the sake of the dead kin, everybody will hate to see him."[12]

When now a smaller group, like a family, is at the same time a part of a larger group like a phratry or a tribe, we have the phase of solidarity which is so puzzling to the modern. We hold to solidarity in war or between nations; but with a few exceptions[13] we have replaced it by individual responsibility of adults for debts and crimes so far as the civil law has jurisdiction. In earlier times the higher group or authority treated the smaller as a unit. Achan's family all perished with him. The Chinese sense of justice recognized a series of degrees in responsibility dependent on nearness of kin or of residence, or of occupation. The Welsh system held kinsmen as far as second cousins responsible for insult or injury short of homicide, and as far as fifth cousins (seventh degree of descent) for the payment in case of homicide. "The mutual responsibility of kinsmen for saraal and galanas (the Wergild of the Germans), graduated according to nearness of kin to the murdered man and to the criminal, reveals more clearly than anything else the extent to which the individual was bound by innumerable meshes to his fixed place in the tribal community."[14]

§ 5. THE KINSHIP OR HOUSEHOLD GROUP WAS A RELIGIOUS UNIT

The kinship or household group determined largely both the ideas and the cultus of primitive religion; conversely religion gave completeness, value, and sacredness to the group life. Kinship with unseen powers or persons was the fundamental religious idea. The kinship group as a religious body simply extended the kin to include invisible as well as visible members. The essential feature of religion is not unseen beings who are feared, or cajoled, or controlled by magic. It is rather kindred unseen beings, who may be feared, but who are also reverenced and loved. The kinship may be physical or spiritual, but however conceived it makes gods and worshippers members of one group.[15]

1. Totem Groups.—In totem groups, the prevailing conception is that one blood circulates in all the members of the group and that the ancestor of the whole group is some object of nature, such as sun or moon, plant or animal. Perhaps the most interesting and intelligible account of the relation between the animal ancestor and the members of the group is that which has recently been discovered in certain Australian tribes who believe that every child, at its birth, is the reincarnation of some previous member of the group, and that these ancestors were an actual transformation of animals and plants, or of water, fire, wind, sun, moon, or stars. Such totem groups cherish that animal which they believe to be their ancestor and ordinarily will not kill it or use it for food. The various ceremonies of religious initiation are intended to impress upon the younger members of the group the sacredness of this kindred bond which units them to each other and to their totem. The beginnings of decorative art frequently express the importance of the symbol, and the totem is felt to be as distinctly a member of the group as is any of the human members.

2. Ancestral Religion.—At a somewhat higher stage of civilization, and usually in connection with the patriarchal households or groups in which kinship is reckoned through the male line, the invisible members of the group are the departed ancestors. This ancestor worship is a power to-day in China and Japan, and in the tribes of the Caucasus. The ancient Semites, Romans, Teutons, Celts, Hindoos, all had their kindred gods of the household. The Roman genius, lares, penates, and manes, perhaps the Hebrew teraphim,—prized by Laban and Rachel, kept by David, valued in the time of Hosea,—were loved and honored side by side with other deities. Sometimes the nature deities, such as Zeus or Jupiter, were incorporated with the kinship or family gods. The Greek Hestia and Roman Vesta symbolized the sacredness of the hearth. The kinship tie thus determined for every member of the group his religion.

Religion Completes the Group.—Conversely, this bond of union with unseen, yet ever present and powerful kindred spirits completed the group and gave to it its highest authority, its fullest value, its deepest sacredness. If the unseen kin are nature beings, they symbolize for man his dependence upon nature and his kinship in some vague fashion with the cosmic forces. If the gods are the departed ancestors, they are then conceived as still potent, like Father Anchises, to protect and guide the fortunes of their offspring. The wisdom, courage, and affection, as well as the power of the great heroes of the group, live on. The fact that the gods are unseen enhances tremendously their supposed power. The visible members of the group may be strong, but their strength can be measured. The living elders may be wise, yet they are not far beyond the rest of the group. But the invisible beings cannot be measured. The long-departed ancestor may have inconceivable age and wisdom. The imagination has free scope to magnify his power and invest him with all the ideal values it can conceive. The religious bond is, therefore, fitted to be the bearer, as the religious object is the embodiment in concrete form, of the higher standards of the group, and to furnish the sanction for their enforcement or adoption.

§ 6. GROUPS OR CLASSES ON THE BASIS OF AGE AND SEX

While the kindred and family groups are by far the most important for early morality, other groupings are significant. The division by ages is widespread. The simplest scheme gives three classes: (1) children, (2) young men and maidens, (3) married persons. Puberty forms the bound between the first and second; marriage that between the second and third. Distinct modes of dress and ornament, frequently also different residences and standards of conduct, belong to these several classes. Of groups on the basis of sex, the men's clubs are especially worthy of note. They flourish now chiefly in the islands of the Pacific, but there are indications, such as the common meals of the Spartans, of a wide spread among European peoples in early times. The fundamental idea[16] seems to be that of a common house for the unmarried young men, where they eat, sleep, and pass their time, whereas the women, children, and married men sleep and eat in the family dwelling. But in most cases all the men resort to the clubhouse by day. Strangers may be entertained there. It thus forms a sort of general center for the men's activities, and for the men's conversation. As such, it is an important agency for forming and expressing public opinion, and for impressing upon the young men just entering the house the standards of the older members. Further, in some cases these houses become the center of rites to the dead, and thus add the impressiveness of religious significance to their other activities.

Finally, secret societies may be mentioned as a subdivision of sex groups, for among primitive peoples such societies are confined in almost all cases to the men. They seem in many cases to have grown out of the age classes already described. The transition from childhood to manhood, mysterious in itself, was invested with further mysteries by the old men who conducted the ceremonies of initiation. Masks were worn, or the skulls of deceased ancestors were employed, to give additional mystery and sanctity. The increased power gained by secrecy would often be itself sufficient to form a motive for such organization, especially where they had some end in view not approved by the dominant authorities. Sometimes they exercise strict authority over their members, and assume judicial and punitive functions, as in the Vehm of the Middle Ages. Sometimes they become merely leagues of enemies to society.

§ 7. MORAL SIGNIFICANCE OF THE KINDRED AND OTHER GROUPS

The moral in this early stage is not to be looked for as something distinct from the political, religious, kindred, and sympathetic aspects of the clan, family, and other groups. The question rather is, How far are these very political, religious, and other aspects implicitly moral? If by moral we mean a conscious testing of conduct by an inner and self-imposed standard, if we mean a freely chosen as contrasted with a habitual or customary standard, then evidently we have the moral only in germ. For the standards are group standards, rather than those of individual conscience; they operate largely through habit rather than through choice. Nevertheless they are not set for the individual by outsiders. They are set by a group of which he is a member. They are enforced by a group of which he is a member. Conduct is praised or blamed, punished or rewarded by the group of which he is a member. Property is administered, industry is carried on, wars and feuds prosecuted for the common good. What the group does, each member joins in doing. It is a reciprocal matter: A helps enforce a rule or impose a service on B; he cannot help feeling it fair when the same rule is applied to himself. He has to "play the game," and usually he expects to play it as a matter of course. Each member, therefore, is practicing certain acts, standing in certain relations, maintaining certain attitudes, just because he is one of the group which does these things and maintains these standards. And he does not act in common with the group without sharing in the group emotions. It is a grotesque perversion to conceive the restraints of gods and chiefs as purely external terrors. The primitive group could enter into the spirit implied in the words of the Athenian chorus, which required of an alien upon adoption

"To loathe whate'er our state does hateful hold,
To reverence what it loves."[17]

The gregarious instinct may be the most elemental of the impulses which bind the group together, but it is reinforced by sympathies and sentiments growing out of common life, common work, common danger, common religion. The morality is already implicit, it needs only to become conscious. The standards are embodied in the old men or the gods; the rational good is in the inherited wisdom; the respect for sex, for property rights, and for the common good, is embodied in the system—but it is there. Nor are the union and control a wholly objective affair. "The corporate union was not a pretty religious fancy with which to please the mind, but was so truly felt that it formed an excellent basis from which the altruistic sentiment might start. Gross selfishness was curbed, and the turbulent passions were restrained by an impulse which the man felt welling up within him, instinctive and unbidden. Clannish camaraderie was thus of immense value to the native races."[18]

LITERATURE

The works of Hobhouse, Sumner, Westermarck contain copious references to the original sources. Among the most valuable are:

For Savage People: Waitz, Anthropologie der Naturvölker, 1859-72; Tylor, Primitive Culture, 1903; Spencer and Gillen, The Native Tribes of Central Australia, 1899, and The Northern Tribes of Central Australia, 1904; Howitt and Fison, Kamilaroi and Kurnai, 1880; Howitt, The Native Tribes of S. E. Australia, 1904; N. Thomas, Kinship, Organization and Group Marriages in Australia, 1906; Morgan, Houses and House-life of the American Aborigines, 1881, The League of the Iroquois, 1851, Systems of Consanguinity, Smithsonian Contributions, 1871, Ancient Society, 1877. Many papers in the Reports of the Bureau of Ethnology, especially by Powell in 1st, 1879-80; Dorsey in 3rd, 1881-82, Mendeleff in 19th, 1893-94.

For India, China, and Japan: Lyall, Asiatic Studies, Religious and Social, 1882; Gray, China, 1878; Smith, Chinese Characteristics, 1894; Village Life in China, 1899; Nitobé, Bushido, 1905; L. Hearn, Japan, 1904.

For Semitic and Indo-Germanic Peoples: W. R. Smith, Kinship and Marriage in Early Arabia, 1885; The Religion of the Semites, 1894; W. Hearn, The Aryan Household, 1879; Coulanges, The Ancient City, 1873; Seebohm, The Tribal System in Wales, 1895, and Tribal Custom in Anglo-Saxon Law, 1902; Krauss, Sitte und Brauch der Südslaven, 1885.

General: Grosse, Die Formen der Familie und die Formen der Wirthschaft, 1896; Starke, The Primitive Family, 1889; Maine, Ancient Law, 1885; McLennan, Studies in Ancient History, 1886; Rivers, On the Origin of the Classificatory System of Relationships, in Anthropological Essays, presented to E. B. Tylor, 1907; Ratzel, History of Mankind, 1896-98; Kovalevsky, Tableau des origines et de l'Evolution de la Famille et de la Propriété, 1890; Giddings, Principles of Sociology, 1896, pp. 157-168, 256-298; Thomas, Relation of Sex to Primitive Social Control in Sex and Society, 1907; Webster, Primitive Secret Societies, 1908; Simmel, The Sociology of Secrecy and of Secret Societies, American Journal Sociology, Vol. XI., 1906, pp. 441-498. See also the references at close of Chapters VI., VII.

FOOTNOTES:

[3] Wilamowitz-Möllendorf, Aristotle und Athen, II. 93, 47.

[4] History of Greece, III., 55.

[5] The Ancient City, p. 51.

[6] Russian mirs, South Slavonian "joint" families, Corsican clans with their vendettas, and tribes in the Caucasus still have the group interest strong, and the feuds of the mountaineers in some of the border states illustrate family solidarity.

[7] "In all the tribes with whom we are acquainted all the terms coincide without any exception in the recognition of relationships, all of which are dependent on the existence of a classificatory system, the fundamental idea of which is that the women of certain groups marry the men of others. Each tribe has one term applied indiscriminately to the man or woman whom he actually marries and to all whom he might lawfully marry, that is, who belong to the right group: One term to his actual mother and to all the women whom his father might lawfully have married."—Spencer and Gillen, Native Tribes of Central Australia, p. 57.

[8] The fact that primitive man is at once an individual and a member of a group—that he has as it were two personalities or selves, an individual self and a clan-self, or "tribal-self," as Clifford called it,—is not merely a psychologist's way of stating things. The Kafir people, according to their most recent student, Mr. Dudley Kidd, have two distinct words to express these two selves. They call one the idhlozi and other the itongo. "The idhlozi is the individual and personal spirit born with each child—something fresh and unique which is never shared with any one else—while the itongo is the ancestral and corporate spirit which is not personal but tribal, or a thing of the clan, the possession of which is obtained not by birth but by certain initiatory rites. The idhlozi is personal and inalienable, for it is wrapped up with the man's personality, and at death it lives near the grave, or goes into the snake or totem of the clan; but the itongo is of the clan, and haunts the living-hut; at death it returns to the tribal amatongo (ancestral spirits). A man's share in this clan-spirit (itongo) is lost when he becomes a Christian, or when he is in any way unfaithful to the interests of the clan, but a man never loses his idhlozi any more than he ever loses his individuality."—Savage Childhood, pp. 14 f.

[9] Hearn, The Aryan Household, p. 212.

[10] MacLennan, Studies in Ancient History, p. 381.

[11] Robertson Smith, Kinship and Marriage in Early Arabia, p. 23.

[12] Cited from the Gwentian Code. Seebohm, The Tribal System in Wales, p. 104.

[13] E.g., certain joint responsibilities of husband and wife.

[14] Seebohm, The Tribal System in Wales, pp. 103 f.

[15] "From the earliest times, religion, as distinct from magic or sorcery, addresses itself to kindred and friendly beings, who may indeed be angry with their people for a time, but are always placable except to the enemies of their worshippers or to renegade members of the community. It is not with a vague fear of unknown powers, but with a loving reverence for known gods who are knit to their worshippers by strong bonds of kinship, that religion in the only true sense of the word begins."—Robertson Smith, Religion of the Semites, p. 54.

[16] Schurtz, Altersklassen und Männerbünde.

[17] Œdipus at Colonus, vv. 186 f.

[18] Dudley Kidd, Savage Childhood, pp. 74 f.

CHAPTER III
THE RATIONALIZING AND SOCIALIZING AGENCIES IN EARLY SOCIETY

§ 1. THREE LEVELS OF CONDUCT

A young man may enter a profession thinking of it only as a means of support. But the work requires foresight and persistence; it broadens his interests; it develops his character. Like Saul, he has gone to search for asses, he has found a kingdom. Or he may marry on the basis of emotional attraction. But the sympathies evoked, the coöperation made necessary, are refining and enlarging his life. Both these cases illustrate agencies which are moral in their results, although not carried on from a consciously moral purpose.

Suppose, however, that children are born into the family. Then the parent consciously sets about controlling their conduct, and in exercising authority almost inevitably feels the need of some standard other than caprice or selfishness. Suppose that in business the partners differ as to their shares in the profits, then the question of fairness is raised; and if one partner defaults, the question of guilt. Or suppose the business encounters a law which forbids certain operations, the problem of justice will come to consciousness. Such situations as these are evidently in the moral sphere in a sense in which those of the preceding paragraph are not. They demand some kind of judgment, some approval or disapproval. As Aristotle says, it is not enough to do the acts; it is necessary to do them in a certain way,—not merely to get the result, but to intend it. The result must be thought of as in some sense good or right; its opposite as in some sense bad or wrong.

But notice that the judgments in these cases may follow either of two methods: (1) The parent or business man may teach his child, or practice in business, what tradition or the accepted standard calls for; or (2) he may consider and examine the principles and motives involved. Action by the first method is undoubtedly moral, in one sense. It is judging according to a standard, though it takes the standard for granted. Action by the second method is moral in a more complete sense. It examines the standard as well. The one is the method of "customary" morality, the other that of reflective morality, or of conscience in the proper sense.

The Three Levels and Their Motives.—We may distinguish then three levels of conduct.

1. Conduct arising from instincts and fundamental needs. To satisfy these needs certain conduct is necessary, and this in itself involves ways of acting which are more or less rational and social. The conduct may be in accordance with moral laws, though not directed by moral judgments. We consider this level in the present chapter.

2. Conduct regulated by standards of society, for some more or less conscious end involving the social welfare. The level of custom, which is treated in Chapter IV.

3. Conduct regulated by a standard which is both social and rational, which is examined and criticized. The level of conscience. Progress toward this level is outlined in Chapters V. to VIII.

The motives in these levels will show a similar scale. In (1) the motives are external to the end gained. The man seeks food, or position, or glory, or sex gratification; he is forced to practice sobriety, industry, courage, gentleness. In (2) the motive is to seek some good which is social, but the man acts for the group mainly because he is of the group, and does not conceive his own good as distinct from that of the group. His acts are only in part guided by intelligence; they are in part due to habit or accident. (3) In full morality a man not only intends his acts definitely, he also values them as what he can do "with all his heart." He does them because they are right and good. He chooses them freely and intelligently. Our study of moral development will consider successively these three levels. They all exist in present morality. Only the first two are found in savage life. If (1) existed alone it was before the group life, which is our starting-point in this study. We return now to our consideration of group life, and note the actual forces which are at work. We wish to discover the process by which the first and second levels prepare the way for the third.

The Necessary Activities of Existence Start the Process.—The prime necessities, if the individual is to survive, are for food, shelter, defense against enemies. If the stock is to survive, there must be also reproduction and parental care. Further, it is an advantage in the struggle if the individual can master and acquire, can outstrip rivals, and can join forces with others of his kind for common ends. To satisfy these needs we find men in group life engaged in work, in war or blood feuds, in games and festal activities, in parental care. They are getting food and booty, making tools and houses, conquering or enslaving their enemies, protecting the young, winning trophies, and finding emotional excitement in contests, dances, and songs. These all help in the struggle for existence. But the workmen, warriors, singers, parents, are getting more. They are forming certain elements of character which, if not necessarily moral in themselves, are yet indispensable requisites for full morality. We may say therefore that nature is doing this part of moral evolution, without the aid of conscious intention on man's part. To use the terms of Chapter I., we may call this a rationalizing and socializing process, though not a conscious moral process. We notice some of the more important agencies that are operative.

§ 2. RATIONALIZING AGENCIES

1. Work.—The earlier forms of occupation, hunting and fishing, call for active intelligence, although the activity is sustained to a great degree by the immediate interest or thrill of excitement, which makes them a recreation to the civilized man. Quickness of perception, alertness of mind and body, and in some cases, physical daring, are the qualities most needed. But in the pastoral life, and still more with the beginning of agriculture and commerce, the man who succeeds must have foresight and continuity of purpose. He must control impulse by reason. He must organize those habits which are the basis of character, instead of yielding to the attractions of various pleasures which might lead him from the main purpose. To a certain extent the primitive communism acted to prevent the individual from feeling the full force of improvidence. Even if he does not secure a supply of game, or have a large enough flock to provide for the necessities of himself and his immediate family, the group does not necessarily permit him to starve. The law "Whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap" does not press upon him with such relentless grasp as in the modern individualistic struggle for existence. Nevertheless it would be an entirely mistaken view of primitive group life to suppose that it is entirely a lazy man's paradise, or happy-go-lucky existence. The varying economic conditions are important here as measuring the amount of forethought and care required. It is the shepherd Jacob whose craft outwits Esau the hunter; and while the sympathy of the modern may be with Esau, he must remember that forethought like other valuable weapons may be used in a social as well as a selfish fashion. The early Greek appreciation of craft is probably expressed in their deification of theft and deception in Hermes. Agriculture and commerce, still more than preceding types of occupation, demand thoughtfulness and the long look ahead.

The differentiation of labor has been a powerful influence for increasing the range of mental life and stimulating its development. If all do the same thing, all are much alike, and inevitably remain on a low level. But when the needs of men induce different kinds of work, slumbering capacities are aroused and new ones are called into being. The most deeply-rooted differentiation of labor is that between the sexes. The woman performs the work within or near the dwelling, the man hunts or tends the flocks or ranges abroad. This probably tends to accentuate further certain organic differences. Among the men, group life in its simplest phases has little differentiation except "for counsel" or "for war." But with metal working and agricultural life the field widens. At first the specializing is largely by families rather than by individual choice. Castes of workmen may take the place of mere kinship ties. Later on the rules of caste in turn become a hindrance to individuality and must be broken down if the individual is to emerge to full self-direction.

2. The Arts and Crafts.—Aside from their influence as work, the arts and crafts have a distinctly elevating and refining effect. The textiles, pottery, and skilfully made tools and weapons; the huts or houses when artistically constructed; the so-called free or fine arts of dance and music, of color and design—all have this common element: they give some visible or audible embodiment for order or form. The artist or craftsman must make definite his idea in order to work it out in cloth or clay, in wood or stone, in dance or song. When thus embodied, it is preserved, at least for a time. It is part of the daily environment of the society. Those who see or hear are having constantly suggested to them ideas and values which bring more meaning into life and elevate its interests. Moreover, the order, the rational plan or arrangement which is embodied in all well-wrought objects, as well as in the fine arts in the narrow sense, deserves emphasis. Plato and Schiller have seen in this a valuable preparation for morality. To govern action by law is moral, but it is too much to expect this of the savage and the child as a conscious principle where the law opposes impulse. In art as in play there is direct interest and pleasure in the act, but in art there is also order or law. In conforming to this order the savage, or the child, is in training for the more conscious control where the law, instead of favoring, may thwart or oppose impulse and desire.

3. War.—War and the contests in games were serving to work out characteristics which received also a definite social reënforcement: namely, courage and efficiency, a sense of power, a consciousness of achievement. All these, like craft, may be used for unmoral or even immoral ends, but they are also highly important as factors in an effective moral personality.

§ 3. SOCIALIZING AGENCIES

Coöperation and Mutual Aid.[19]—Aside from their effects in promoting intelligence, courage, and ideality of life, industry, art, and war have a common factor by which they all contribute powerfully to the social basis of morality. They all require coöperation. They are socializing as well as rationalizing agencies. Mutual aid is the foundation of success. "Woe to him who stands alone, e'en though his platter be never so full," runs the Slav proverb. "He that belongs to no community is like unto one without a hand." Those clans or groups which can work together, and fight together, are stronger in the struggle against nature and other men. The common activities of art have value in making this community of action more possible. Coöperation implies a common end. It means that each is interested in the success of all. This common end forms then a controlling rule of action, and the mutual interest means sympathy. Coöperation is therefore one of nature's most effective agencies for a social standard and a social feeling.

1. Coöperation in Industry.—In industry, while there was not in primitive life the extensive exchange of goods which expresses the interdependence of modern men, there was yet much concerted work, and there was a great degree of community of property. In groups which lived by hunting or fishing, for instance, although certain kinds of game might be pursued by the individual hunter, the great buffalo and deer hunts were organized by the tribe as a whole. "A hunting bonfire was kindled every morning at daybreak at which each brave must appear and report. The man who failed to do this before the party set out on the day's hunt was harassed by ridicule."[20] Salmon fishery was also conducted as a joint undertaking. Large game in Africa is hunted in a similar fashion, and the product of the chase is not for the individual but for the group. In the pastoral life the care of the flocks and herds necessitates at least some sort of coöperation to protect these flocks from the attacks of wild beasts and from the more dreaded forays of human robbers. This requires a considerable body of men, and the journeying about in company, the sharing together of watch and ward, the common interest in the increase of flocks and herds, continually strengthens the bonds between the dwellers in tents.

In the agricultural stage there are still certain forces at work which promote the family or tribal unity, although here we begin to find the forces which make for individuality at work until they result in individual ownership and individual property. Just as at the pastoral stage, so in this, the cattle and the growing grain must be protected from attacks by man and beast. It is only the group which can afford such protection, and accordingly we find the Lowland farmer always at the mercy of the Highland clan.

2. Coöperation in War.—War and the blood feud, however divisive between groups, were none the less potent as uniting factors within the several groups. The members must not only unite or be wiped out, when the actual contest was on, but the whole scheme of mutual help in defense or in avenging injuries and insults made constant demand upon fellow feeling, and sacrifice for the good of all. To gain more land for the group, to acquire booty for the group, to revenge a slight done to some member of the group, were constant causes for war. Now although any individual might be the gainer, yet the chances were that he would himself suffer even though the group should win. In the case of blood revenge particularly, most of the group were not individually interested. Their resentment was a "sympathetic resentment," and one author has regarded this as perhaps the most fundamental of the sources of moral emotion. It was because the tribal blood had been shed, or the women of the clan insulted, that the group as a whole reacted, and in the clash of battle with opposing groups, was closer knit together.

"Ally thyself with whom thou wilt in peace, yet know
In war must every man be foe who is not kin."

"Comrades in arms" by the very act of fighting together have a common cause, and by the mutual help and protection given and received become, for the time at least, one in will and one in heart. Ulysses counsels Agamemnon to marshal his Greeks, clan by clan and "brotherhood (phratry) by brotherhood," that thus brother may support and stimulate brother more effectively; but the effect is reciprocal, and it is indeed very probable that the unity of blood which is believed to be the tie binding together the members of the group, is often an afterthought or pious fiction designed to account for the unity which was really due originally to the stress of common struggle.

3. Art as Socializing Agency.—Coöperation and sympathy are fostered by the activities of art. Some of these activities are spontaneous, but most of them serve some definite social end and are frequently organized for the definite purpose of increasing the unity and sympathy of the group. The hunting dance or the war dance represents, in dramatic form, all the processes of the hunt or fight, but it would be a mistake to suppose that this takes place purely for dramatic purposes. The dance and celebration after the chase or battle may give to the whole tribe the opportunity to repeat in vivid imagination the triumphs of the successful hunter or warrior, and thus to feel the thrill of victory and exult in common over the fallen prey. The dance which takes place before the event is designed to give magical power to the hunter or warrior. Every detail is performed with the most exact care and the whole tribe is thus enabled to share in the work of preparation.

In the act of song the same uniting force is present. To sing with another involves a contagious sympathy, in perhaps a higher degree than is the case with any other art. There is, in the first place, as in the dance, a unity of rhythm. Rhythm is based upon coöperation and, in turn, immensely strengthens the possibility of coöperation. In the bas-reliefs upon the Egyptian monuments representing the work of a large number of men who are moving a stone, we find the sculptured figure of a man who is beating the time for the combined efforts. Whether all rhythm has come from the necessities of common action or whether it has a physiological basis sufficient to account for the effect which rhythmic action produces, in any case when a company of people begin to work or dance or sing in rhythmic movement, their efficiency and their pleasure are immensely increased. In addition to the effect of rhythm we have also in the case of song the effect of unity of pitch and of melody, and the members of the tribe or clan, like those who to-day sing the Marseillaise or chant the great anthems of the church, feel in the strongest degree their mutual sympathy and support. For this reason, the Corroborees of the Australian, the sacred festivals of Israel, the Mysteries and public festivals of the Greeks, in short, among all peoples, the common gatherings of the tribe for patriotic or religious purposes, have been attended with dance and song. In many cases these carry the members on to a pitch of enthusiasm where they are ready to die for the common cause.

Melodic and rhythmic sound is a unifying force simply by reason of form, and some of the simpler songs seem to have little else to commend them, but at very early periods there is not merely the song but the recital, in more or less rhythmic or literary form, of the history of the tribe and the deeds of the ancestors. This adds still another to the unifying forces of the dance and song. The kindred group, as they hear the recital, live over together the history of the group, thrill with pride at its glories, suffer at its defeats; every member feels that the clan's history is his history and the clan's blood his blood.

§ 4. FAMILY LIFE AS AN IDEALIZING AND SOCIALIZING AGENCY

Family life, so far as it is merely on the basis of instinct, takes its place with other agencies favored by natural selection which make for more rational and social existence. Various instincts are more or less at work. The sex instinct brings the man and the woman together. The instinct of jealousy, and the property or possessing instinct, may foster exclusive and permanent relations. The parental instinct and affection bind the parents together and thus contribute to the formation of the social group described in the preceding chapter. Considering now the more immediate relations of husband and wife, parents and children, rather than the more general group relations, we call attention to some of the most obvious aspects, leaving fuller treatment for Part III. The idealizing influences of the sex instinct, when this is subject to the general influences found in group life, is familiar. Lyric song is a higher form of its manifestation, but even a mute lover may be stimulated to fine thoughts or brave deeds. Courtship further implies an adaptation, an effort to please, which is a strong socializing force. If "all the world loves a lover," it must be because the lover is on the whole a likable rôle. But other forces come in. Sex love is intense, but so far as it is purely instinctive it may be transitory. Family life needed more permanence than sex attraction could provide, and before the powerful sanctions of religion, society, and morals were sufficient to secure permanence, it is probable that the property interest of the husband was largely effective in building up a family life, requiring fidelity to the married relation on the part of the wife.

But the most far-reaching of the forces at work in the family has been the parental instinct and affection with its consequences upon both parents and children. It contributes probably more than any other naturally selected agency to the development of the race in sympathy; it shares with work in the development of responsibility. It is indeed one of the great incentives to industry throughout the higher species of animals as well as in human life. The value of parental care in the struggle for existence is impressively presented by Sutherland.[21] Whereas the fishes which exercise no care for their eggs preserve their species only by producing these in enormous numbers, certain species which care for them maintain their existence by producing relatively few. Many species produce hundreds of thousands or even millions of eggs. The stickleback, which constructs a nest and guards the young for a few days, is one of the most numerous of fishes, but it lays only from twenty to ninety eggs. Birds and mammals with increased parental care produce few young. Not only is parental care a valuable asset, it is an absolute necessity for the production of the higher species. "In the fierce competition of the animated forms of earth, the loftier type, with its prolonged nervous growth, and consequently augmented period of helplessness, can never arise but with concomitant increases of parental care." Only as the emotional tendency has kept pace with the nerve development has the human race been possible. The very refinements in the organism which make the adult a victor would render the infant a victim if it were without an abundance of loving assistance.[22]

Whether, as has been supposed by some, the parental care has also been the most effective force in keeping the parents together through a lengthened infancy, or whether other factors have been more effective in this particular, there is no need to enlarge upon the wide-reaching moral values of parental affection. It is the atmosphere in which the child begins his experience. So far as any environment can affect him, this is a constant influence for sympathy and kindness. And upon the parents themselves its transforming power, in making life serious, in overcoming selfishness, in projecting thought and hope on into the future, cannot be measured. The moral order and progress of the world might conceivably spare some of the agencies which man has devised; it could not spare this.

§ 5. MORAL INTERPRETATION OF THIS FIRST LEVEL

On this first level we are evidently dealing with forces and conduct, not as moral in purpose, but as valuable in result. They make a more rational, ideal, and social life, and this is the necessary basis for more conscious control and valuation of conduct. The forces are biological or sociological or psychological. They are not that particular kind of psychological activities which we call moral in the proper sense, for this implies not only getting a good result but aiming at it. Some of the activities, such as those of song and dance, or the simpler acts of maternal care, have a large instinctive element. We cannot call these moral in so far as they are purely instinctive. Others imply a large amount of intelligence, as, for example, the operations of agriculture and the various crafts. These have purpose, such as to satisfy hunger, or to forge a weapon against an enemy. But the end is one set up by our physical or instinctive nature. So long as this is merely accepted as an end, and not compared with others, valued, and chosen, it is not properly moral.

The same is true of emotions. There are certain emotions on the instinctive level. Such are parental love in its most elemental form, sympathy as mere contagious feeling, anger, or resentment. So far as these are at this lowest level, so far as they signify simply a bodily thrill, they have no claim to proper moral value. They are tremendously important as the source from which strong motive forces of benevolence, intelligent parental care, and an ardent energy against evil may draw warmth and fire.

Finally, even the coöperation, the mutual aid, which men give, so far as it is called out purely by common danger, or common advantage, is not in the moral sphere in so far as it is instinctive, or merely give and take. To be genuinely moral there must be some thought of the danger as touching others and therefore requiring our aid; of the advantage as being common and therefore enlisting our help.

But even although these processes are not consciously moral they are nevertheless fundamental. The activities necessary for existence, and the emotions so intimately bound up with them, are the "cosmic roots" of the moral life. And often in the higher stages of culture, when the codes and instruction of morality and society fail to secure right conduct, these elementary agencies of work, coöperation, and family life assert their power. Society and morality take up the direction of the process and carry it further, but they must always rely largely on these primary activities to afford the basis for intelligent, reliable, and sympathetic conduct.

LITERATURE

Bagehot, Physics and Politics, 1890; Bücher, Industrial Evolution, Eng. tr., 1901, Arbeit und Rythmus, 3rd ed., 1901; Schurtz, Urgeschichte der Kultur, 1900; Fiske, Cosmic Philosophy, Vol. II., The Cosmic Roots of Love and Self-sacrifice in Through Nature to God, 1899; Dewey, Interpretation of the Savage Mind, Psychological Review, Vol. IX., 1892, pp. 217-230; Durkheim, De la Division du Travail Social, 1893; P. Kropotkin, Mutual Aid, a Factor in Evolution, 1902; Ross, Foundations of Society, 1905, Chap. VII.; Baldwin, Article Socionomic Forces in his Dictionary of Philosophy and Psychology; Giddings, Inductive Sociology, 1901; Small, General Sociology, 1906; Tarde, Les Lois de l'Imitation, 1895; W. I. Thomas, Sex and Society, 1907, pp. 55-172; Gummere, The Beginnings of Poetry, 1901; Hirn, The Origin of Art, 1900.

FOOTNOTES:

[19] P. Kropotkin, Mutual Aid a Factor in Evolution; Bagehot, Physics and Politics.

[20] Eastman, Indian Boyhood.

[21] The Origin and Growth of the Moral Instinct, Chs. II.-V.

[22] Ibid., p. 99.

CHAPTER IV
GROUP MORALITY—CUSTOMS OR MORES

We have seen how the natural forces of instinct lead to activities which elevate men and knit them together. We consider next the means which society uses for these purposes, and the kind of conduct which goes along with the early forms of society's agencies. The organization of early society is that of group life, and so far as the individual is merged in the group the type of conduct may be called "group morality." Inasmuch as the agencies by which the group controls its members are largely those of custom, the morality may be called also "customary morality." Such conduct is what we called at the opening of the previous chapter "the second level." It is "ethical" or "moral" in the sense of conforming to the ethos or mores of the group.

§ 1. MEANING, AUTHORITY, AND ORIGIN OF CUSTOMS

Meaning of Customs or Mores.—Wherever we find groups of men living as outlined in Chapter II., we find that there are certain ways of acting which are common to the group—"folkways." Some of these may be due merely to the fact that the members are born of the same stock, just as all ducks swim. But a large part of human conduct, in savage as truly as in civilized life, is not merely instinctive. There are approved ways of acting, common to a group, and handed down from generation to generation. Such approved ways of doing and acting are customs, or to use the Latin term, which Professor Sumner thinks brings out more clearly this factor of approval, they are mores.[23] They are habits—but they are more. They imply the judgment of the group that they are to be followed. The welfare of the group is regarded as in some sense imbedded in them. If any one acts contrary to them he is made to feel the group's disapproval. The young are carefully trained to observe them. At times of special importance, they are rehearsed with special solemnity.

Authority Behind the Mores.—The old men, or the priests, or medicine men, or chiefs, or old women, may be the especial guardians of these customs. They may modify details, or add new customs, or invent explanations for old ones. But the authority back of them is the group in the full sense. Not the group composed merely of visible and living members, but the larger group which includes the dead, and the kindred totemic or ancestral gods. Nor is it the group considered as a collection of individual persons. It is rather in a vague way the whole mental and social world. The fact that most of the customs have no known date or origin makes them seem a part of the nature of things. Indeed there is more than a mere analogy between the primitive regard for custom and that respect for "Nature" which from the Stoics to Spencer has sought a moral standard in living "according to nature." And there is this much in favor of taking the world of custom as the standard: the beings of this system are like the person who is expected to behave like them; its rules are the ways in which his own kin have lived and prospered, and not primarily the laws of cosmic forces, plants, and animals.

Origin of Customs; Luck.—The origin of customs is to be sought in several concurrent factors. There are in the first place the activities induced by the great primitive needs and instincts. Some ways of acting succeed; some fail. Man not only establishes habits of acting in the successful ways; he remembers his failures. He hands successful ways down with his approval; he condemns those that fail.

This attitude is reënforced by the views about good luck and bad luck. Primitive man—and civilized man—is not ruled by a purely rational theory of success and failure. "One might use the best known means with the greatest care, yet fail of the result. On the other hand, one might get a great result with no effort at all. One might also incur a calamity without any fault of his own."[24] "Grimm gives more than a thousand ancient German apothegms, dicta, and proverbs about 'luck.'"[25] Both good and bad fortune are attributed to the unseen powers, hence a case of bad luck is not thought of as a mere chance. If the ship that sailed Friday meets a storm, or one of thirteen falls sick, the inference is that this is sure to happen again. And at this point the conception of the group welfare as bound up with the acts of every member, comes in to make individual conformity a matter for group concern—to make conduct a matter of mores and not merely a private affair. One most important, if not the most important, object of early legislation was the enforcement of lucky rites to prevent the individual from doing what might bring ill luck on all the tribe. For the conception always was that the ill luck does not attach itself simply to the doer, but may fall upon any member of the group. "The act of one member is conceived to make all the tribe impious, to offend its particular god, to expose all the tribe to penalties from heaven. When the street statues of Hermes were mutilated, all the Athenians were frightened and furious; they thought they should all be ruined because some one had mutilated a god's image and so offended him."[26] "The children were reproved for cutting and burning embers, on the ground that this might be the cause for the accidental cutting of some member of the family."[27] In the third place, besides these sources of custom, in the usefulness or lucky character of certain acts, there is also the more immediate reaction of individuals or groups to certain ways of acting according "as things jump with the feelings or displease them."[28] An act of daring is applauded, whether useful or not. The individual judgment is caught up, repeated, and plays its part in the formation of group opinion. "Individual impulse and social tradition are thus the two poles between which we move." Or there may even be a more conscious discussion analogous to the action of legislatures or philosophic discussion. The old men among the Australians deliberate carefully as to each step of the initiation ceremonies. They make customs to be handed down.

§ 2. MEANS OF ENFORCING CUSTOMS

The most general means for enforcing customs are public opinion, taboos, ritual or ceremony, and physical force.

Public Approval uses both language and form to express its judgments. Its praise is likely to be emphasized by some form of art. The songs that greet the returning victor, the decorations, costumes, and tattoos for those who are honored, serve to voice the general sentiment. On the other hand ridicule or contempt is a sufficient penalty to enforce compliance with many customs that may be personally irksome. It is very largely the ridicule of the men's house which enforces certain customs among the men of peoples which have that institution. It is the ridicule or scorn of both men and women which forbids the Indian to marry before he has proved his manhood by some notable deed of prowess in war or chase.

Taboos.—Taboos are perhaps not so much a means for enforcing custom, as they are themselves customs invested with peculiar and awful sanction. They prohibit or ban any contact with certain persons or objects under penalty of danger from unseen beings. Any events supposed to indicate the activity of spirits, such as birth and death, are likely to be sanctified by taboos. The danger is contagious; if a Polynesian chief is taboo, the ordinary man fears even to touch his footprints. But the taboos are not all based on mere dread of the unseen.

"They include such acts as have been found by experience to produce unwelcome results.—The primitive taboos correspond to the fact that the life of man is environed by perils: His food quest must be limited by shunning poisonous plants. His appetite must be restrained from excess. His physical strength and health must be guarded from dangers. The taboos carry on the accumulated wisdom of generations which has almost always been purchased by pain, loss, disease, and death. Other taboos contain inhibitions of what will be injurious to the group. The laws about the sexes, about property, about war, and about ghosts, have this character. They always include some social philosophy." (Sumner, Folkways, pp. 33 f.)

They may be used with conscious purpose. In order to have a supply of cocoanuts for a religious festival the head men may place a taboo upon the young cocoanuts to prevent them from being consumed before they are fully ripe. The conception works in certain respects to supply the purpose which is later subserved by ideas of property. But it serves also as a powerful agency to maintain respect for the authority of the group.

Ritual.—As taboo is the great negative guardian of customs, ritual is the great positive agent. It works by forming habits, and operates through associations formed by actually doing certain acts, usually under conditions which appeal to the emotions. The charm of music and of orderly movement, the impressiveness of ordered masses in processions, the awe of mystery, all contribute to stamp in the meaning and value. Praise or blame encourages or inhibits; ritual secures the actual doing and at the same time gives a value to the doing. It is employed by civilized peoples more in the case of military or athletic drill, or in training children to observe forms of etiquette, so that these may become "second nature." Certain religious bodies also use its agency. But in primitive life it is widely and effectively used to insure for educational, political, and domestic customs obedience to the group standards, which among us it secures to the codes of the army, or to those of social etiquette. Examples of its elaborate and impressive use will be given below under educational ceremonies.

Physical Force.—When neither group opinion, nor taboo, nor ritual secures conformity, there is always in the background physical force. The chiefs are generally men of strength whose word may not be lightly disregarded. Sometimes, as among the Sioux, the older braves constitute a sort of police. Between different clans the blood feud is the accepted method of enforcing custom, unless a substitute, the wergeld, is provided. For homicide within a clan the remaining members may drive the slayer out, and whoever meets such a Cain may slay him. If a man murdered his chief of kindred among the ancient Welsh he was banished and "it was required of every one of every sex and age within hearing of the horn to follow that exile and to keep up the barking of dogs, to the time of his putting to sea, until he shall have passed three score hours out of sight."[29] It should be borne in mind, however, that physical pains, either actual or dreaded, would go but a little way toward maintaining authority in any such group as we have regarded as typical. Absolutism, with all its cruel methods of enforcing terror, needs a more highly organized system. In primitive groups the great majority support the authority of the group as a matter of course, and uphold it as a sacred duty when it is challenged. Physical coercion is not the rule but the exception.

§ 3. CONDITIONS WHICH BRING OUT THE IMPORTANCE OF GROUP STANDARDS AND RENDER GROUP CONTROL CONSCIOUS

Although customs or mores have in them an element of social approval which makes them vehicles of moral judgment, they tend in many cases to sink to the level of mere habits. The reason—such as it was—for their original force—is forgotten. They become, like many of our forms of etiquette, mere conventions. There are, however, certain conditions which center attention upon their importance and lift them to the level of conscious agencies. These conditions may be grouped under three heads. (1) The education of the younger, immature members of the group and their preparation for full membership. (2) The constraint and restraint of refractory members and the adjustment of conflicting interests. (3) Occasions which involve some notable danger or crisis and therefore call for the greatest attention to secure the favor of the gods and avert disaster.

1. Educational Customs.—Among the most striking and significant of these are the initiation ceremonies which are so widely observed among primitive peoples. They are held with the purpose of inducting boys into the privileges of manhood and into the full life of the group. They are calculated at every step to impress upon the initiate his own ignorance and helplessness in contrast with the wisdom and power of the group; and as the mystery with which they are conducted imposes reverence for the elders and the authorities of the group, so the recital of the traditions and performances of the tribe, the long series of ritual acts, common participation in the mystic dance and song and decorations, serve to reënforce the ties that bind the tribe.

Initiation into the full privileges of manhood among the tribes of Central Australia, for instance, includes three sets of ceremonies which occupy weeks, and even months, for their completion. The first set, called "throwing up in the air," is performed for the boy when he has reached the age of from ten to twelve. In connection with being thrown up in the air by certain prescribed members of his tribe, he is decorated with various totem emblems and afterward the septum of his nose is bored for the insertion of the nose-bone. At a period some three or four years later a larger and more formidable series of ceremonies is undertaken, lasting for ten days. A screen of bushes is built, behind which the boy is kept during the whole period, unless he is brought out on the ceremonial ground to witness some performance. During this whole period of ten days, he is forbidden to speak except in answer to questions. He is decorated with various totem emblems, for which every detail is prescribed by the council of the tribal fathers and tribal elder brothers. He is charged to obey every command and never to tell any woman or boy what he may see. The sense that something out of the ordinary is to happen to him helps to impress him strongly with a feeling of the deep importance of compliance with the tribal rules, and further still, with a strong sense of the superiority of the older men who know and are familiar with the mysterious rites of which he is about to learn the meaning for the first time. At intervals he watches symbolic performances of men decorated like various totem animals, who represent the doings of the animal ancestors of the clan; he hears mysterious sounds of the so-called bull-roarers, which are supposed by the women and uninitiated to be due to unseen spirits; and the whole ends with the operation which symbolizes his induction into young manhood. But even this is not all; when the young man has reached the age of discretion, when it is felt that he can fully comprehend the traditions of the tribe, at the age of from twenty to twenty-five, a still more impressive series of ceremonies is conducted, which in the instance reported lasted from September to January. This period was filled up with dances, "corroborees," and inspection of the churinga or sacred emblems—stones or sticks which were supposed to be the dwellings of ancestral spirits and which are carefully preserved in the tribe, guarded from the sight of women and boys, but known individually to the elders as the sacred dwelling-place of father or grandfather. As these were shown and passed around, great solemnity was manifest and the relatives sometimes wept at the sight of the sacred object. Ceremonies imitating various totem animals, frequently of the most elaborate sort, were also performed. The young men were told the traditions of the past history of the tribe, and at the close of the recital they felt added reverence for the old men who had been their instructors, a sense of pride in the possession of this mysterious knowledge, and a deeper unity because of what they now have in common. One is at a loss whether to wonder most at the possibility of the whole tribe devoting itself for three months to these elaborate functions of initiation, or at the marvelous adaptability of such ceremonies to train the young into an attitude of docility and reverence. A tribe that can enforce such a process is not likely to be wanting in one side, at least, of the moral consciousness, namely, reverence for authority and regard for the social welfare.[30]

2. Law and Justice.—The occasions for some control over refractory members will constantly arise, even though the conflict between group and individual may need no physical sanctions to enforce the authority of the group over its members. The economic motive frequently prompts an individual to leave the tribe or the joint family. There was a constant tendency, Eastman states, among his people, when on a hunting expedition in the enemy's country, to break up into smaller parties to obtain food more easily and freely. The police did all they could to keep in check those parties who were intent on stealing away. Another illustration of the same tendency is stated by Maine with reference to the joint families of the South Slavonians:

"The adventurous and energetic member of the brotherhood is always rebelling against its natural communism. He goes abroad and makes his fortune, and as strenuously resists the demands of his relatives to bring it into the common account. Or perhaps he thinks that his share of the common stock would be more profitably employed by him as capital in a mercantile venture. In either case he becomes a dissatisfied member or a declared enemy of the brotherhood."[31]

Or covetousness might lead to violation of the ban, as with Achan. Sex impulse may lead a man to seek for his wife a woman not in the lawful group. Or, as one of the most dangerous offenses possible, a member of the group may be supposed to practice witchcraft. This is to use invisible powers in a selfish manner, and has been feared and punished by almost all peoples.

In all these cases it is of course no abstract theory of crime which leads the community to react; it is self-preservation. The tribe must be kept together for protection against enemies. Achan's sin is felt to be the cause of defeat. The violation of sex taboos may ruin the clan. The sorcerer may cause disease, or inflict torture and death, or bring a pestilence or famine upon the whole group. None the less all such cases bring to consciousness one aspect of moral authority, the social control over the individual.

And it is a social control—not an exercise of brute force or a mere terrorizing by ghosts. For the chief or judge generally wins his authority by his powerful service to his tribesmen. A Gideon or Barak or Ehud or Jephthah judged Israel because he had delivered them. "Three things, if possessed by a man, make him fit to be a chief of kindred: That he should speak on behalf of his kin and be listened to, that he should fight on behalf of his kin and be feared, and that he should be security on behalf of his kin and be accepted."[32] If, as is often the case, the king or judge or chief regards himself as acting by divine right, the authority is still within the group. It is the group judging itself.

In its standards this primitive court is naturally on the level of customary morality, of which it is an agent. There is usually neither the conception of a general principle of justice (our Common Law), nor of a positive law enacted as the express will of the people. At first the judge or ruler may not act by any fixed law except that of upholding the customs. Each decision is then a special case. A step in advance is found when the heads or elders or priests of the tribe decide cases, not independently of all others, but in accordance with certain precedents or customs. A legal tradition is thus established, which, however imperfect, is likely to be more impartial than the arbitrary caprice of the moment, influenced as such special decisions are likely to be by the rank or power of the parties concerned.[33] A law of precedents or tradition is thus the normal method at this level. The progress toward a more rational standard belongs under the next chapter, but it is interesting to note that even at an early age the myths show a conception of a divine judge who is righteous, and a divine judgment which is ideal. Rhadamanthus is an embodiment of the demand for justice which human collisions and decisions awakened.

The conscious authority of the group is also evoked in the case of feuds or disputes between its members. The case of the blood feud, indeed, might well be treated as belonging under war and international law rather than as a case of private conflict. For so far as the members of the victim's clan are concerned, it is a case of war. It is a patriotic duty of every kinsman to avenge the shed blood. The groups concerned were smaller than modern nations which go to war for similar reasons, but the principle is the same. The chief difference in favor of modern international wars is that since the groups are larger they do not fight so often and require a more serious consideration of the possibility of peaceable adjustment. Orestes and Hamlet feel it a sacred duty to avenge their fathers' murders.

But the case is not simply that of clan against clan. For the smaller group of kin, who are bound to avenge, are nearly always part of a larger group. And the larger group may at once recognize the duty of vengeance and also the need of keeping it within bounds, or of substituting other practices. The larger group may see in the murder a pollution, dangerous to all;[34] the blood which "cries from the ground"[35] renders the ground "unclean" and the curse of gods or the spirits of the dead may work woe upon the whole region. But an unending blood feud is likewise an evil. And if the injured kin can be appeased by less than blood in return, so much the better. Hence the wergeld, or indemnity, a custom which persisted among the Irish until late, and seemed to the English judges a scandalous procedure.

For lesser offenses a sort of regulated duel is sometimes allowed. For example, among the Australians the incident is related of the treatment of a man who had eloped with his neighbor's wife. When the recreant parties returned the old men considered what should be done, and finally arranged the following penalty. The offender stood and called out to the injured husband, "I stole your woman; come and growl." The husband then proceeded to throw a spear at him from a distance, and afterwards to attack him with a knife, although he did not attempt to wound him in a vital part. The offender was allowed to evade injury, though not to resent the attack. Finally the old men said, "Enough." A curious form of private agencies for securing justice is also found in the Japanese custom of hara-kiri, according to which an injured man kills himself before the door of his offender, in order that he may bring public odium upon the man who has injured him. An Indian custom of Dharna is of similar significance, though less violent. The creditor fasts before the door of the debtor until he either is paid, or dies of starvation. It may be that he thinks that his double or spirit will haunt the cruel debtor who has thus permitted him to starve to death, but it also has the effect of bringing public opinion to bear.

In all these cases of kindred feuds there is little personal responsibility, and likewise little distinction between the accidental and intentional. These facts are brought out in the opening quotations in Chapter II. The important thing for the student to observe is that like our present practices in international affairs they show a grade of morality, a limited social unity, whether it is called kinship feeling or patriotism; complete morality is not possible so long as there is no complete way of settling disputes by justice instead of force.[36]

3. Occasions Which Involve Some Special Danger or Crisis.—Such occasions call for the greatest attention to secure success or avoid disaster. Under this head we note as typical (a) the occasions of birth, marriage, death; (b) seed time and harvest, or other seasons important for the maintenance of the group; (c) war; (d) hospitality.

(a) Birth and Death Customs.—The entrance of a new life into the world and the disappearance of the animating breath (spiritus, anima, psyche), might well impress man with the mysteries of his world. Whether the newborn infant is regarded as a reincarnation of an ancestral spirit as with the Australians, or as a new creation from the spirit world as with the Kafirs, it is a time of danger. The mother must be "purified,"[37] the child, and in some cases the father, must be carefully guarded. The elaborate customs show the group judgment of the importance of the occasion. And the rites for the dead are yet more impressive. For as a rule the savage has no thought of an entire extinction of the person. The dead lives on in some mode, shadowy and vague, perhaps, but he is still potent, still a member of the group, present at the tomb or the hearth. The preparation of the body for burial or other disposition, the ceremonies of interment or of the pyre, the wailing, and mourning costumes, the provision of food and weapons, or of the favorite horse or wife, to be with the dead in the unseen world, the perpetual homage paid—all these are eloquent. The event, as often as it occurs, appeals by both sympathy and awe to the common feeling, and brings to consciousness the unity of the group and the control exercised by its judgments.

The regulations for marriage are scarcely less important; indeed, they are often seemingly the most important of the customs. The phrases "marriage by capture" and "marriage by purchase," are quite misleading if they give the impression that in early culture any man may have any woman. It is an almost universal part of the clan system that the man must marry out of his own clan or totem (exogamy), and it is frequently specified exactly into what other clan he must marry. Among some the regulations are minute as to which of the age classes, as well as to which of the kin groups, a man of specific group must choose from. The courtship may follow different rules from ours, and the relation of the sexes in certain respects may seem so loose as to shock the student, but the regulation is in many respects stricter than with us, and punishment of its violation often severer. There can be no doubt of the meaning of the control, however mistaken some of its features. Whether the regulations for exogamy, which provide so effectually for avoiding incest, are reinforced by an instinctive element of aversion to sex relations with intimates, is uncertain; in any case, they are enforced by the strongest taboos. Nor does primitive society stop with the negative side. The actual marriage is invested with the social values and religious sanctions which raise the relation to a higher level. Art, in garments and ornament, in dance and epithalamium, lends ideal values. The sacred meal at the encircled hearth secures the participation of the kindred gods.

(b) Certain Days or Seasons Important for the Industrial Life.—Seed time and harvest, the winter and summer solstices, the return of spring, are of the highest importance to agricultural and pastoral peoples, and are widely observed with solemn rites. Where the rain is the center of anxiety, a whole ritual may arise in connection with it, as among the Zuñi Indians. Ceremonies lasting days, involving the preparation of special symbols of clouds and lightning, and the participation of numerous secret fraternities, constrain the attention of all. Moreover, this constraint of need, working through the conception of what the gods require, enforces some very positive moral attitudes:

"A Zuñi must speak with one tongue (sincerely) in order to have his prayers received by the gods, and unless his prayers are accepted no rains will come, which means starvation. He must be gentle, and he must speak and act with kindness to all, for the gods care not for those whose lips speak harshly. He must observe continence four days previous to, and four days following, the sending of breath prayers through the spiritual essence of plume offerings, and thus their passions are brought under control." (Mrs. M. C. Stevenson in 23d Report, Bureau of Ethnology.)

Phases of the moon give other sacred days. Sabbaths which originally are negative—the forbidding of labor—may become later the bearers of positive social and spiritual value. In any case, all these festivals bring the group authority to consciousness, and by their ritual promote the intimate group sympathy and consciousness of a common end.

(c) War.—War as a special crisis always brings out the significance and importance of certain customs. The deliberations, the magic, the war paint which precede, the obedience compelled by it to chiefs, the extraordinary powers exercised by the chief or heads at such crises, the sense of danger which strains the attention, all insure attention. No carelessness is permitted. Defeat is interpreted as a symbol of divine anger because of a violated law or custom. Victory brings all together to celebrate the glory of the clan and to mourn in common the warriors slain in the common cause. Excellence here may be so conspicuous in its service, or in the admiration it calls out, as to become a general term for what the group approves. So the aretē of the Greeks became their general term, and the Latin virtus, if not so clearly military, was yet largely military in its early coloring. The "spirit of Jehovah," the symbol of divine approval and so of group approval, was believed to be with Samson and Jephthah in their deeds of prowess in Israel's behalf.

(d) Hospitality.—To the modern man who travels without fear and receives guests as a matter of almost daily practice, it may seem strained to include hospitality along with unusual or critical events. But the ceremonies observed and the importance attached to its rites, show that hospitality was a matter of great significance; its customs were among the most sacred.

"But as for us," says Ulysses to the Cyclops, "we have lighted here, and come to these thy knees, if perchance they will give us a stranger's gift, or make any present, as is the due of strangers. Nay, lord, have regard to the gods, for we are thy suppliants, and Zeus is the avenger of suppliants and sojourners, Zeus, the god of the stranger, who fareth in the company of reverend strangers."

The duty of hospitality is one of the most widely recognized. Westermarck has brought together a series of maxims from a great variety of races which show this forcibly.[38] Indians, Kalmucks, Greeks, Romans, Teutons, Arabs, Africans, Ainos, and other peoples are drawn upon and tell the same story. The stranger is to be respected sacredly. His person must be guarded from insult even if the honor of the daughter of the house must be sacrificed.[39] "Jehovah preserveth the sojourners," and they are grouped with the fatherless and the widow in Israel's law.[40] The Romans had their dii hospitales and the "duties toward a guest were even more stringent than those toward a relative"—primum tutelæ, delude hospiti, deinde clienti, tum cognato, postea affini.[41] "He who has a spark of caution in him," says Plato, "will do his best to pass through life without sinning against the stranger." And there is no doubt that this sanctity of the guest's person was not due to pure kindness. The whole conduct of group life is opposed to a general spirit of consideration for those outside. The word "guest" is akin to hostis, from which comes "hostile." The stranger or the guest was looked upon rather as a being who was specially potent. He was a "live wire." He might be a medium of blessing, or he might be a medium of hurt. But it was highly important to fail in no duty toward him. The definite possibility of entertaining angels unawares might not be always present to consciousness, but there seems reason to believe that the possibility of good luck or bad luck as attending on a visitor was generally believed in. It is also plausible that the importance attached to sharing a meal, or to bodily contact, is based on magical ideas of the way in which blessing or curse may be communicated. To cross a threshold or touch a tent-rope or to eat "salt," gives a sacred claim. In the right of asylum, the refugee takes advantage of his contact with the god. He lays hold of the altar and assumes that the god will protect him. The whole practice of hospitality is thus the converse of the custom of blood revenge. They are alike sacred—or rather the duty of hospitality may protect even the man whom the host is bound to pursue. But, whereas the one makes for group solidarity by acts of exclusive and hostile character, the other tends to set aside temporarily the division between the "we-group" and the "others-group." Under the sanction of religion it keeps open a way of communication which trade and other social interchange will widen. It adds to family and the men's house a powerful agency in maintaining at least the possibility of humaneness and sympathy.

§ 4. VALUES AND DEFECTS OF CUSTOMARY MORALITY

These have been suggested, in the main, in the description of the nature of custom and its regulation of conduct. We may, however, summarize them as a preparation for the next stage of morality.

1. The Forming of Standards.—There is a standard, a "good," a "right," which is to some degree rational and to some degree social. We have seen that custom rests in part on rational conceptions of welfare. It is really nothing against this that a large element of luck enters into the idea of welfare. For this means merely that the actual conditions of welfare are not understood. The next generation may be able to point out as equally absurd our present ignorance about health and disease. The members of the group embodied in custom what they thought to be important; they were approving some acts and forbidding or condemning others; they were using the elders, and the wisdom of all the past, in order to govern life. So far, then, they were acting morally. They were also, to a degree, using a rational and social standard when they made custom binding on all, and conceived its origin as immemorial. When further they conceived it as approved by the gods, they gave it all the value they knew how to put into it.

The standards and valuations of custom are, however, only partly rational. Many customs are irrational; some are injurious. But in them all the habitual is a large, if not the largest, factor. And this is often strong enough to resist any attempt at rational testing. Dr. Arthur Smith tells us of the advantage it would be in certain parts of China to build a door on the south side of the house in order to get the breeze in hot weather. The simple and sufficient answer to such a suggestion is, "We don't build doors on the south side."

An additional weakness in the character of such irrational, or partly rational standards, is the misplaced energy they involve. What is merely trivial is made as important and impressive as what has real significance. Tithing mint, anise, and cummin is quite likely to involve neglect of the weightier matters of the law. Moral life requires men to estimate the value of acts. If the irrelevant or the petty is made important, it not only prevents a high level of value for the really important act, it loads up conduct with burdens which keep it back; it introduces elements which must be got rid of later, often with heavy loss of what is genuinely valuable. When there are so many ways of offending the gods and when these turn so often upon mere observance of routine or formula, it may require much subsequent time and energy to make amends. The morals get an expiatory character.

2. The Motives.—In the motives to which it appeals, custom is able to make a far better showing than earlier writers, like Herbert Spencer, gave it credit for. It doubtless employs fear in its taboos; it doubtless enlists the passion of resentment in its blood feuds. Even these are modified by a social environment. For the fear of violating a taboo is in part the fear of bringing bad luck on the whole group, and not merely on the violator. We have, therefore, a quasi-social fear, not a purely instinctive reaction. The same is true in perhaps a stronger degree of the resentments. The blood revenge is in a majority of cases not a personal but a group affair. It is undertaken at personal risk and for others' interest—or rather for a common interest. The resentment is thus a "sympathetic resentment."[42] Regarded as a mere reaction for self-preservation this instinctive-emotional process is unmoral. As a mere desire to produce pain it would be immoral. But so far as it implies an attitude of reacting from a general point of view and to aid others, it is moral. Aside from the passions of fear and resentment, however, there is a wide range of motives enlisted. Filial and parental affection, some degree of affection between the sexes over and above sex passion, respect for the aged and the beings who embody ideals however crude, loyalty to fellow clansmen,—all these are not only fostered but actually secured by the primitive group. But the motives which imply reflection—reverence for duty as the imperious law of a larger life, sincere love of what is good for its own sake—cannot be brought to full consciousness until there is a more definite conception of a moral authority, a more definite contrast between the one great good and the partial or temporary satisfactions. The development of these conceptions requires a growth in individuality; it requires conflicts between authority and liberty, and those collisions between private interests and the public welfare which a higher civilization affords.

3. The Content.—When we consider the "what" of group and customary morality we note at once that the factors which make for the idealizing and expansion of interests are less in evidence than those which make for a common and social interest and satisfaction. There is indeed, as we have noted, opportunity for memory and fancy. The traditions of the past, the myths, the cultus, the folk songs—these keep up a mental life which is as genuinely valued as the more physical activities. But as the mode of life in question does not evoke the more abstractly rational activities—reasoning, selecting, choosing—in the highest degree, the ideals lack reach and power. It needs the incentives described in the following chapters to call out a true life of the spirit. The social aspects of the "what," on the other hand, are well rooted in group morality. It is unnecessary to repeat what has been dwelt upon in the present and preceding chapters so fully. We point out now that while the standard is social, it is unconsciously rather than consciously social. Or perhaps better: it is a standard of society but not a standard which each member deliberately makes his own. He takes it as a matter of course. He is in the clan, "with the gang"; he thinks and acts accordingly. He cannot begin to be as selfish as a modern individualist; he simply hasn't the imagery to conceive such an exclusive good, nor the tools with which to carry it out. But he cannot be as broadly social either. He may not be able to sink so low as the civilized miser, or debauchee, or criminal, but neither can he conceive or build up the character which implies facing opposition. The moral hero achieves full stature only when he pits himself against others, when he recognizes evil and fights it, when he "overcomes the world."

4. Organization of Character.—In the organization of stable character the morality of custom is strong on one side. The group trains its members to act in the ways it approves and afterwards holds them by all the agencies in its power. It forms habits and enforces them. Its weakness is that the element of habit is so large, that of freedom so small. It holds up the average man; it holds back the man who might forge ahead. It is an anchor, and a drag.

LITERATURE

Much of the literature at the close of Chapters II. and III., particularly the works of Spencer and Gillen and Schurtz, belongs here also. Schoolcraft, Indian Tribes, 1851-57; Eastman, Indian Boyhood, 1902. Papers on various cults of North American Indians in reports of the Bureau of Ethnology, by Stevenson, 8th, 1886-87; Dorsey, 11th, 1889-90; Fewkes, 15th, 1893-94, 21st, 1899-1900; Fletcher, 22nd, 1900-01; Stevenson, 23d, 1901-02; Kidd, Savage Childhood, 1906; The Essential Kaffir, 1904; Skeat, Malay Magic, 1900; N. W. Thomas, general editor of Series, The Native Races of the British Empire, 1907-; Barton, A Sketch of Semitic Origins, 1902; Harrison, Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion, 1903; Reinach, Cultes, Mythes et Religions, 2 vols., 1905; Frazer, The Golden Bough, 3 vols., 1900; Marett, Is Taboo Negative Magic? in Anthropological Essays, presented to E. B. Tylor, 1907; Crawley, The Mystic Rose, 1902; Spencer, Sociology, 1876-96; Clifford, On the Scientific Basis of Morals in Lectures and Essays, 1886; Maine, Early History of Institutions, 1888; Early Law and Custom, 1886; Post, Die Grundlagen des Rechts und die Grundzüge seiner Entwicklungsgeschichte, 1884; Ethnologische Jurisprudenz, 1894-95; Pollock and Maitland, History of English Law, 1899; Steinmetz, Ethnologische Studien zur ersten Entwicklung der Strafe, 1894.

FOOTNOTES:

[23] W. G. Sumner, Folkways.

[24] Sumner, Folkways, p. 6.

[25] Ibid., p. 11.

[26] Bagehot, Physics and Politics, p. 103.

[27] Eastman, Indian Boyhood, p. 31.

[28] Hobhouse, Morals in Evolution, Part I., p. 16. Hume pointed out this twofold basis of approval.

[29] Seebohm, The Tribal System of Wales, p. 59.

[30] The account is based on Spencer and Gillen, The Native Tribes of Central Australia, chs. vii.-ix.

[31] Maine's Early Law and Custom, p. 264.

[32] Welsh Triads, cited by Seebohm, op. cit., p. 72.

[33] Post, Grundlagen des Rechts, pp. 45 ff.

[34] Deuteronomy 21:1-9; Numbers 35:33, 34.

[35] Genesis 4:10-12; Job 16:18.

[36] On the subject of early justice Westermarck, The Origin and Development of Moral Ideas, ch. vii. ff.; Hobhouse, Morals in Evolution, Part I., ch. ii.; Pollock and Maitland, History of English Law.

[37] Leviticus, ch. xii.

[38] "The Influence of Magic on Social Relationships" in Sociological Papers, II., 1905. Cf. also Morgan, House-life.

[39] Genesis 19:8; Judges 19:23, 24.

[40] Psalms 146:9; Deuteronomy 24:14-22.

[41] Gellius, in Westermarck, op. cit., p. 155.

[42] Westermarck regards this as one of the fundamental elements in the beginnings of morality.