Moral Science by Alexander Bain (self help books to read .TXT) 📕

to, on another side, as being too high for humanity; men cannot be perpetually acting with a view to the general interests of society. But this is to mistake the meaning of a standard, and to confound the rule of action with the motive. Ethics tells us what are our duties, or by what test we are to know them; but no system of ethics requires that the motive of every action should be a feeling of duty; our actions are rightly done provided only duty does not condemn them. The great majority of actions have nothing to do with the good of the world--they end with the individual; it happens to few persons, and that rarely, to be public benefactors. Private utility is in the mass of cases all that we have to attend to. As regards abstinences, indeed, it would be unworthy of an intelligent agent not to be aware that the action is one that, if practised generally, would be generally injurious, and to not feel a sense of obligation on that ground; but such an amount of regard for the general interest is required under every system of morals.

It is farther alleged against Utility, that it renders men cold and unsympathizing, chills the moral feelings towards individuals, and regards only the dry consequences of actions, without reference to the moral qualities of the agent. The author replies that Utility, like any other system, admits that a right action does not necessarily indicate a virtuous character. Still, he contends, in the long run, the best proof of a good character is good actions. If the objection means that utilitarians do not lay sufficient stress on the beauties of character, he replies that this is the accident of persons cultivating their moral feelings more than their sympathies and artistic perceptions, and may occur under every view of the foundation of morals.

The next objection considered is that Utility is a _godless_ doctrine. The answer is, that whoever believes in the perfect goodness and wisdom of God, necessarily believes that whatever he has thought fit to reveal on the subject of morals must fulfil the requirements of utility in a supreme degree.

Again, Utility is stigmatized as an immoral doctrine, by carrying out Expediency in opposition to Principle. But the Expedient in this sense means what is expedient for the agent himself, and, instead of being the same thing with the useful, is a branch of the hurtful. It would often be expedient to tell a lie, but so momentous and so widely extended are the utilities of truth, that veracity is a rule of transcendent expediency. Yet all moralists admit exceptions to it, solely on account of the manifest inexpediency of observing it on certain occasions.

The author does not omit to notice the usual charge that it is impossible to make a calculation of consequences previous to every action, which is as much as to say that no one can be under the guidance of Christianity, because there is not time, on the occasion of doing anything, to read through the Old and New Testaments. The real answer is (substantially the same as Austin's) that there has been ample time during the past duration of the species. Mankind have all that time been learning by experience the consequences of actions; on that experience they have founded both their prudence and their morality. It is an inference from the principle of utility, which regards morals as a practical art, that moral rules are improvable; but there exists under the ultimate principle a number of intermediate generalizations, applicable at once to the emergencies of human conduct. Nobody argues that navigation is not founded on astronomy, because sailors cannot wait to calculate the Nautical Almanack.

As to the stock argument, that people will pervert utility for their private ends, Mr. Mill challenges the production of any ethical creed where this may not happen. The fault is due, not to the origin of the rules, but to the complicated nature of human affairs, and the necessity of allowing a certain latitude, under the moral responsibility of the agent, for accommodation to circumstances. And in cases of conflict, utility is a better guide than anything found in systems whose moral laws claim independent authority.

Chapter III. considers the ULTIMATE SANCTION OF THE PRINCIPLE OF UTILITY.

It is a proper question with regard to a supposed moral standard,--What is its sanction? what is the source of its obligation? wherein lies its binding force? The customary morality is consecrated by education and opinion, and seems to be obligatory _in itself_; but to present, as the source of obligation, some general principle, not surrounded by the halo of consecration, seems a paradox; the superstructure seems to stand better without such a foundation. This difficulty belongs to every attempt to reduce morality to first principles, unless it should happen that the principle chosen has as much sacredness as any of its applications.

Utility has, or might have, all the sanctions attaching to any other system of morals. Those sanctions are either External or Internal. The External are the hope of favour and the fear of displeasure (1) from our fellow-creatures, or (2) from the Ruler of the Universe, along with any sympathy or affection for them, or love and awe of Him, inclining us apart from selfish motives. There is no reason why these motives should not attach themselves to utilitarian morality.

The Internal Sanction, under every standard of duty, is of one uniform character--a feeling in our own mind; a pain, more or less intense, attendant on violation of duty, which in properly cultivated moral natures rises, in the more serious cases, into shrinking from it as an impossibility. This feeling, when disinterested, and connecting itself with the pure idea of duty, is _the essence of Conscience_; a complex phenomenon, involving associations from sympathy, from love, and still more from fear; from the recollections of childhood, and of all our past life; from self-esteem, desire of the esteem of others, and occasionally even self-abasement. This extreme complication is an obstacle to our supposing that it can attach to other objects than what are found at present to excite it. The binding force, however, is _the mass of feeling to be broken through_ in order to violate our standard of right, and which, if we do violate that standard, will have to be afterwards encountered as remorse.

Thus, apart from external sanctions, the ultimate sanction, under Utility, is the same as for other standards, namely, the conscientious feelings of mankind. If there be anything innate in conscience, there is nothing more likely than that it should be a regard to the pleasures and pains of others. If so, the intuitive ethics would be the same as the utilitarian; and it is admitted on all hands that a _large_ portion of morality turns upon what is due to the interests of fellow-creatures.

On the other hand, if, as the author believes, the moral feelings are not innate, they are not for that reason less natural. It is natural to man to speak, to reason, to cultivate the ground, to build cities, though these are acquired faculties. So the moral faculty, if not a part of our nature, is a natural outgrowth of it; capable, in a certain small degree, of springing up spontaneously, and of being brought to a high pitch by means of cultivation. It is also susceptible, by the use of the external sanctions and the force of early impressions, of being cultivated in almost any direction, and of being perverted to absurdity and mischief.

The basis of natural sentiment capable of supporting the utilitarian morality is to be found in the _social feelings of mankind_. The social state is so natural, so necessary, and so habitual to man, that he can hardly conceive himself otherwise than as a member of society; and as civilization advances, this association becomes more firmly riveted. All strengthening of social ties, and all healthy growth of society, give to each individual a stronger personal interest in consulting the welfare of others. Each comes, as though instinctively, to be conscious of himself as a being that _of course_ pays regard to others. There is the strongest motive in each person to manifest this sentiment, and, even if he should not feel it strongly himself, to cherish it in everybody else. The smallest germs of the feeling are thus laid hold of, and nourished by the contagion of sympathy and the influences of education; and by the powerful agency of the external sanctions there is woven around it a complete web of corroborative association. In an improving state of society, the influences are on the increase that generate in each individual a feeling of unity with all the rest; which, if perfect, would make him never think of anything for self, if they also were not included. Suppose, now, that this feeling of unity were taught as a religion, and that the whole force of education, of institutions, and of opinion, were directed to make every person grow up surrounded with the profession and the practice of it; can there be any doubt as to the sufficiency of the ultimate sanction for the Happiness morality?

Even in our present low state of advancement, the deeply-rooted conception that each individual has of himself as a social being tends to make him wish to be in harmony with his fellow-creatures. The feeling may be, in most persons, inferior in strength to the selfish feelings, and may be altogether wanting; but to such as possess it, it has all the characters of a natural feeling, and one that they would not desire to be without.

Chapter IV. is OF WHAT SORT OF PROOF THE PRINCIPLE OF UTILITY is susceptible. Questions about ends are questions as to what things are desirable. According to the theory of Utility, happiness is desirable as an end; all other things are desirable as means. What is the proof of this doctrine?

As the proof, that the sun is visible, is that people actually see it, so the proof that happiness is desirable, is that people do actually desire it. No reason can be given why the general happiness is desirable, beyond the fact that each one desires their own happiness.

But granting that people desire happiness as _one_ of their ends of conduct, do they never desire anything else? To all appearance they do; they desire virtue, and the absence of vice, no less surely than pleasure and the absence of pain. Hence the opponents of utility consider themselves entitled to infer that happiness is not the standard of moral approbation and disapprobation.

But the utilitarians do not deny that virtue is a thing to be desired. The very reverse. They maintain that it is to be desired, and that _for itself_. Although considering that what makes virtue is the tendency to promote happiness, yet they hold that the mind is not in a right state, not in a state conformable to Utility, not in the state conducive to the general happiness, unless it has adopted this essential instrumentality so warmly as to love it for its own sake. It is necessary to the carrying out of utility that certain things, originally of the nature of means, should come by association to be a part of the final end. Thus health is but a means, and yet we cherish it as strongly as we do any of the ultimate pleasures and pains. So virtue is not originally an end, but it is capable of becoming so; it is to be desired and cherished not solely as a means to happiness, but as a part of happiness.

The notorious instance of money exemplifies this operation. The same may be said of power and fame; although these are ends as well as