Progressive Morality by Thomas Fowler
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Thomas Fowler >> Progressive Morality
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Our adoption, then, of a tendency to promote social welfare or
well-being, as the test of conduct, is justified, I conceive, by an
examination of the internal constitution of human nature and of the
conditions which are necessary to secure the harmonious working of its
various parts. It may be objected that this test is vague in its
conception and difficult in its application. Both objections, to a great
extent, hold good. If they did not, moral theory and moral practice
would be very easy matters, but, as a fact, we know that they are by no
means easy. The conception of social well-being must be more or less
vague, because we are constantly filling it up by experience; it is not
a fixed, but a growing conception, and, though we may be certain of the
character and importance of many of the elements which have already been
detected in it by the experience of past generations, it seems
impossible to fix any limits to its development in the future history of
mankind. Man will constantly be discovering new wants, new and more
refined susceptibilities of his nature, and with them his conception of
human well-being must necessarily grow. But, though not a fixed or final
conception, the idea of social well-being is sufficiently definite, in
each generation, to act as a guide and incentive to conduct. It is the
star, gradually growing brighter and brighter, which lights our path,
and, any way, we know that, if it were not above us in the heavens, we
should be walking in the darkness.
It must be confessed that the test of social well-being is not always
easy of application. Even, when we know what the good of the community
consists in, it is not always easy to say what course of action will
promote it, or what course of action is likely to retard it. Society
arrives, in a comparatively early period of its development, at certain
broad rules of conduct, such as those which condemn murder, theft,
ingratitude to friends, disobedience to parents. But the more remote
applications of these rules, the nicer shades of conduct, such as those
relating to social intercourse, the choice between clashing duties, the
realisation of our obligations to the community at large, require for
their appreciation a large amount of intelligence and an accumulated
stock of experience which are not to be found in primitive societies.
Hence, the rules of conduct, which at first are few and simple,
gradually become more numerous and complex. Nor have we yet arrived at
the time, nor do we seem to be within any appreciable distance of it,
when the code is complete, or even the parts of it which already exist
are altogether free from doubt and discussion. In the simpler relations
of life, he that runs may read, but with increasing complications comes
increasing uncertainty. To remove, as far as may be, this uncertainty
from the domain of conduct is the task of advancing civilisation, and
specially of those members of a community who have sufficient leisure,
education, and intelligence to review the motives and compare the
results of actions. The task has doubtless its special difficulties, and
the conclusions of the moralist will by no means always command assent,
but that the art of life is an easy one, who is there, at all
experienced in affairs or accustomed to reflexion, that will contend?
I may here pause for a moment, in order to emphasise the fact, which is
already abundantly apparent from what has preceded, that, with ever
widening and deepening conceptions of well-being, man is constantly
learning to subordinate his individual interests to those of society at
large, or rather to identify his interests with those of the larger
organism of which he is a part. It is thus that we may justify the
peculiar characteristic of the moral sentiment, indicated in the last
chapter, which seems, in all acts of which it approves, to demand an
element of sacrifice, whether of the lower to the higher self, or of the
individual to his fellows. In order thoroughly to realise ourselves, we
must be conscious of our absorption, or at least of our inclusion, in a
greater and grander system than that of our individual surroundings; in
order to find our lives, we must first discover the art of losing them.
CHAPTER V.
PRACTICAL APPLICATIONS OF THE MORAL TEST.
In this chapter I propose, without any attempt to be exhaustive or
systematic, to give some examples of the manner in which the test of
conduct may be applied to practical questions, either by extending
existing rules to cases which do not obviously fall under them, or by
suggesting more refined maxims of conduct than those which are commonly
prevalent. In either case, I am accepting the somewhat invidious task of
pointing out defects in the commonly received theory, or the commonly
approved practice, of morality. But, if morality is progressive, as I
contend that it is, and progresses by the application to conduct of a
test which itself involves a growing conception, the best mode of
exhibiting the application of that test will be in the more recent
acquisitions or the more subtle deductions of morality, rather than in
its fundamental rules or most acknowledged maxims.
I shall begin with a topic, the examples of which are ready to hand, and
may easily be multiplied, to almost any extent, by the reader for
himself--the better realisation of our duties to society at large as
distinct from particular individuals. When the primary mischief
resulting from a wrong act falls upon individuals, and especially upon
our neighbours or those with whom we are constantly associating, it can
hardly escape our observation. And, even if it does, the probability is
that our attention will be quickly called to it by the reprobation of
others. But, when the consequences of the act are diffused over the
whole community, or a large aggregate of persons, so that the effect on
each individual is almost imperceptible, we are very apt to overlook the
mischief resulting from it, and so not to recognise its wrongful
character, while, at the same time, from lack of personal interest,
others fail to call us to account. Hence it is that men, almost without
any thought, and certainly often without any scruple, commit offences
against the public or against corporations or societies or companies,
which they would themselves deem it impossible for them to commit
against individuals. And yet the character of the acts is exactly the
same. Take smuggling. A man smuggles cigars or tobacco to an amount by
which he saves himself twenty shillings, and defrauds the state to the
same extent. This is simply an act of theft, only that the object of the
theft is the community at large and not an individual. So far as the
mischief or wrongfulness of the act goes, apart from the intention of
the agent, he might as well put his hands into the pocket of one of his
fellow-passengers and extract the same amount of money. The twenty
shillings which, by evading payment of the duty, he has appropriated to
his own uses, has been taken from the rest of the tax-payers, and he has
simply shifted on to them the obligation which properly attached to
himself. Sooner or later they must make up the deficit. If many men were
to act in the same way, the burden of the honest tax-payer would be
largely increased, and, if the practice became general, the state would
have to resort to some other mode of taxation or collect its
customs-revenue at a most disproportionate cost. Thus, a little
reflexion shows that smuggling is really theft, and I cannot but think
that it would be to the moral as well as the material advantage of the
community if it were called by that name, and were visited with the same
punishment as petty larceny. Exactly the same remarks, of course, apply
to the evasion of income-tax, or of rates or taxes of any kind, which
are imposed by a legitimate authority. Travelling on a railway without a
ticket or in a higher class or for a greater distance than that for
which the ticket was taken is, similarly, only a thinly disguised case
of theft, and should be treated accordingly. The sale or purchase of
pirated editions of books is another case of the same kind, the persons
from whom the money is stolen being the authors or publishers. Many
paltry acts of pilfering, such as the unauthorised use of
government-paper or franks, or purloining novels or letter-paper from a
club, or plucking flowers in a public garden, fall under the same head
of real, though not always obvious, thefts. There is, of course, a
certain degree of pettiness which makes them insignificant, but there is
always a danger lest men should think too lightly of acts of this kind,
whether done by themselves or others. The best safeguard, perhaps,
against thoughtless wrong-doing to the community or large social
aggregates is to ask ourselves these two questions: Should we commit
this act, or what should we think of a man who did commit it, in the
case of a private individual? What would be the result, if every one who
had the opportunity were to do the same? Many of these acts would, then,
stand out in their true light, and we should recognise that they are not
only mean but criminal.
Other, but analogous, instances of the failure of men to realise their
obligations to society or to large social aggregates are to be found in
the careless and perfunctory manner in which persons employed by
government, or by corporations, or large companies, often perform their
duties. If they were in the service of a private employer, they would at
all events realise, even if they did not act on their conviction, that
they were defrauding him by idling away their time or attending to their
own affairs, or those of charities or institutions in which they were
interested, when they ought to be attending to the concerns of their
employer. But in a government or municipal office, or the establishment
of a large company, no one in particular seems to be injured by the
ineffective discharge of their functions; and hence it does not occur to
them that they are receiving their wages without rendering the
equivalent of them. The inadequate supervision which overlooks or
condones this listlessness is, of course, itself also the result of a
similar failure to realise responsibility.
The spirit in which patronage is often administered affords an instance
of a similar kind. If a man were engaging a person to perform some
service for himself or his family, or one of his intimate friends, he
would simply look to competency, including, perhaps, moral character,
for the special work to be done. But, when he has to appoint to a public
post, and especially if he is only one of a board of electors, he is
very apt to think that there is no great harm in appointing or voting
for a relative or friend, or a person who has some special bond of
connexion with him, such as that of political party, though he may not
be the candidate best qualified for the position. And, if it does occur
to him that he is acting wrongly, he is more likely to think of the
wrong which he is doing to the individual who possesses the highest
qualifications (and to him it is an undoubted wrong, for it frustrates
just expectations) than of the wrong which he is doing to the community
or the institution which he is depriving of the services of the fittest
man. And yet, if he takes the trouble to reflect, he must see that he is
guilty of a breach of trust; that, having undertaken a public duty, he
has abused the confidence reposed in him.
A vote given in return for a bribe, a case which now seldom occurs
except in parliamentary elections, is open to the same ethical
objections as a vote given on grounds of partiality; and, as the motive
which dictates the breach of trust is purely selfish, it incurs the
additional reproach of meanness. But why, it may be asked, should not a
man accept a bribe, if, on other grounds, he would vote for the
candidate who offers it? Simply, because he is encouraging a practice
which would, in time, deprive Parliament of most of its more competent
members, and reduce it to an oligarchy of millionaires, as well as
degrading himself by a sordid act. To receive a present for a vote, even
if the vote be given conscientiously, is to lend countenance to a
practice which must inevitably corrupt the consciences, and pervert the
judgment, of others. It hardly needs to be pointed out that the man who
offers the bribe is acting still more immorally than the man who accepts
it. He is not only causing others to act immorally, but, as no man can
be a proper judge of his own competency, he is attempting to thrust
himself into an office of trust without any regard to his fitness to
fill it. Intimidation, on the part of the man who practises it, is on
the same ethical level as bribery, with respect to the two points just
mentioned; but, as it appeals to the fears of men instead of their love
of gain, and costs nothing to him who employs it, it is more odious, and
deserves, at the hands of the law, a still more severe punishment. To
yield to intimidation is, under most circumstances, more excusable than
to yield to bribery; for the fear of losing what one has is to most men
a more powerful inducement than the hope of gaining what one has not,
and, generally speaking, the penalty threatened by the intimidator is
far in excess of the advantage offered by the briber.
As it betrays a vain and grasping disposition, when a man attempts to
thrust himself into an office to which he is not called by the
spontaneous voice of his fellow-citizens, so to refuse office, when
there is an evident opportunity of doing good service to the community,
betrays pride or indolence, coupled with an indifference to the public
welfare. In democratic communities, there is always a tendency on the
part of what may be called superfine persons to hold aloof from public,
and especially municipal, life. If this sentiment of fastidiousness or
indifference were to spread widely, and a fashion which begins in one
social stratum quickly permeates to those immediately below it, there
would be great danger, as there seems to be in America, of the public
administration becoming seriously and permanently deteriorated. To
prevent this evil, it is desirable to create, in every community, a
strong sentiment against the practice of persons, who have the requisite
means, leisure, and ability, withholding themselves from public life,
when invited by their fellow-citizens to take their part in it. There
may, of course, be paramount claims of another kind, such as those of
science, or art, or literature, or education, but the superior
importance of these claims on the individuals themselves, where they
obviously exist, and where the claims of the public service are not
urgent, would readily be allowed.
It seems to be a rapid transition from cases of this kind to suicide,
but, amongst the many reasons, moral and religious, which may be urged
against suicide, there is one which connects itself closely with the
considerations which have just been under our notice. As pointed out
long ago by Aristotle, the suicide wrongs the state rather than himself.
Where a man is still able to do any service to the state, in either a
private or a public capacity, he is under a social, and, therefore, a
moral obligation to perform that service, and, consequently, to withdraw
from it by a voluntary death is to desert the post of duty. This
consideration, of course, holds only where a man's life is still of
value to society, but it should be pointed out that, where this ceases
to be the case, many other considerations often, and some always do,
intervene. There are few men who have not relatives, friends, or
neighbours, who will be pained, even if they are not injured materially,
by an act of suicide, and, wherever the injury is a material one, as in
the case of leaving helpless relatives unprovided for, it becomes an act
of cruelty. Then, under all circumstances, there remain the evil example
of cowardice and, to those who acknowledge the obligations of religion,
the sin of cutting short the period of probation which God has assigned
us.
Amongst duties to society, which are seldom fully realised in their
social aspect, is the duty of bringing up children in such a manner as
to render them useful to the state, instead of a burden upon it. Under
this head, there are two distinct cases, that of the rich and that of
the poor, or, more precisely, that of those who are in sufficiently good
circumstances to educate their children without the assistance of the
state or of their neighbours, and that of those who require such
assistance. In the latter case, it is the duty of society to co-operate
with the parent in giving the child an education which shall fit it for
the industrial occupations of life, and hence the moral obligation on
the richer members of a community to provide elementary schools, aided
by the state or by some smaller political aggregate, or else by
voluntary efforts. The object of this assistance is not so much charity
to the parent or the individual children, as the prevention of crime and
pauperism, and the supply of an orderly and competent industrial class.
In rendering the assistance, whether it come from public or private
funds, great care ought to be taken not to weaken, but, rather to
stimulate, the interest of the parent in the child's progress, both by
assigning to him a share of the responsibility of supervision, and, if
possible, by compelling him to contribute an equitable proportion of the
cost. So largely, if not so fully, are the duties of the state and of
individuals of the wealthier classes, in the matter of educating the
children of the poor, now recognised, that the dangers arising from a
defective or injudicious education seem, in the immediate future, to
threaten the richer rather than the poorer classes. Over-indulgence and
the encouragement of luxurious habits during childhood; the weakened
sense of responsibility, on the part of the parent, which is often
caused by the transference to others of authority and supervision during
boyhood or girlhood; the undue stimulation of the love of amusement, or
of the craving for material comforts, during the opening years of
manhood or womanhood; the failure to create serious interests or teach
adequately the social responsibilities which wealth and position bring
with them,--all these mistakes or defects in the education of the
children of the upper classes constitute a grave peril to society,
unless they are remedied in time. It seems, so far as we can forecast
the future, that it is only by all classes taking pains to ascertain
their respective duties and functions in sustaining and promoting the
well-being of the community, and making serious efforts to perform them,
that the society of the next few generations can be saved from constant
convulsions. As intelligence expands, and a sense of the importance of
social co-operation becomes diffused, it is almost certain that the
existence of a merely idle and self-indulgent class will no longer be
tolerated. Hence, it is as much to the interests of the wealthier
classes themselves as of society at large, that their children should be
educated with a full sense of their social responsibilities, and
equipped with all the moral and intellectual aptitudes which are
requisite to enable them to take a lead in the development of the
community of which they are members.
And here, perhaps, I may take occasion to draw attention to the
importance of the acquisition of political knowledge by all citizens of
the state, and especially by those who belong to the leisured classes.
It is a plain duty to society, that men should not exercise political
power, unless they have some knowledge of the questions at issue. The
amount of this knowledge may vary almost infinitely, from that of the
veteran statesman to that of the newly enfranchised elector, but it is
within the power of every one, who can observe and reason, to acquire
some knowledge of at least the questions which affect his own employment
and the welfare of his own family and neighbourhood, and, unless he will
take thus much pains, he might surely have the modesty to forego his
vote. To record a vote simply to please some one else is only one degree
baser than to barter it for money or money's worth, and indeed it is
often only an indirect mode of doing the same thing.
There is a large class of cases, primarily affecting individuals rather
than society at large, which, if we look a little below the surface and
trace their results, are of a much more pernicious character than is
usually recognised, and, as ethical knowledge increases, ought to incur
far more severe reprobation than they now do. Foremost amongst these is
what I may call the current morality of debts. A man incurs a debt with
a tradesman which he has no intention or no reasonable prospect of
paying, knowing that the tradesman has no grounds for suspecting his
inability to pay. The tradesman parts with the goods, supposing that he
will receive the equivalent; the customer carries them off, knowing that
this equivalent is not, and is not likely to be, forthcoming. I confess
that I am entirely unable to distinguish this case from that of ordinary
theft. And still there is many a man, well received in society, who
habitually acts in this manner, and whose practice must be more than
suspected by his friends and associates. He and his friends would be
much astonished if he were accosted as a thief, and still I cannot see
how he could reasonably repudiate this title. Short of this extreme
case, which, however, is by no means uncommon, there are many degrees of
what may be called criminal negligence or imprudence in contracting
debts, as where a man runs up a large bill with only a slender
probability of meeting it, or a larger bill than he can probably meet in
full, or one of which he must defer the payment beyond a reasonable
time. In all these cases, which are much aggravated, if the goods
obtained are luxuries and not necessaries (for it is one of the plainest
duties of every man, who is removed from absolute want, to live within
his means), there is either actual dishonesty or a dangerous
approximation to it, and it would be a great advance in every-day
morality if society were to recognise this fact distinctly, and
apportion its censures accordingly. Where the tradesman knows that he is
running a risk, the customer being also aware that he knows it, and
adapts his charges to the fact, it is a case of 'Greek meet Greek,' and,
even if the customer deserves reprobation, the tradesman certainly
deserves no compassion. But this is a case outside the range of honest
dealing altogether, and must be regulated by other sentiments and other
laws than those which prevail in ordinary commerce. There is another
well-known, and to many men only too familiar, exception to the ordinary
relation of debtor and creditor. A friend 'borrows' money of you, though
it is understood on both sides that he will have no opportunity of
repaying it, and that it is virtually a gift. Here, as the creditor does
not expect any repayment, and the debtor knows that he does not, there
is no act of dishonesty, but the debtor, by asking for a loan and not a
gift, evades the obligation of gratitude and reciprocal service which
would attach to the latter, and thus takes a certain advantage of his
benefactor. In this case it would be far more straightforward, even if
it involved some humiliation, to use plain words, and to accept at once
the true position of a recipient, and not affect the seeming one of a
borrower. Connected with the subject of debtor and creditor is the
ungrounded notion, to which I have already adverted, that the payment of
what are called debts of honour ought to take precedence of all other
pecuniary obligations. As these 'debts of honour' generally arise from
bets or play or loans contracted with friends, the position assumed is
simply that debts incurred to members of our own class or persons whom
we know place us under a greater obligation than debts incurred to
strangers or persons belonging to a lower grade in society. As thus
stated, the maxim is evidently preposterous and indefensible, and
affords a good instance, as I have noticed in a previous chapter, of the
subordination of the laws of general morality to the convenience and
prejudices of particular cliques and classes. If there is any
competition at all admissible between just debts, surely those which
have been incurred in return for commodities supplied have a stronger
claim than those, arising from play or bets, which represent no
sacrifice on the part of the creditor.
Another instance of the class of cases which I am now considering is to
be found in reckless gambling. Men who indulge in this practice are
usually condemned as being simply hare-brained or foolish; but, if we
look a little below the surface, we shall find that their conduct is
often highly criminal. Many a time a man risks on play or a bet or a
horse-race or a transaction on the stock exchange the permanent welfare,
sometimes even the very subsistence, of his wife and children or others
depending on him; or, if he loses, he cuts short a career of future
usefulness, or he renders himself unable to develope, or perhaps even to
retain, his business or his estates, and so involves his tenants, or
clerks, or workmen in his ruin, or, perhaps, he becomes bankrupt and is
thus the cause of wide-spread misery amongst his creditors. And, even if
these extreme results do not follow, his rash conduct may be the cause
of much minor suffering amongst his relatives or tradesmen or
dependents, who may have to forego many legitimate enjoyments in
consequence of his one act of greed or thoughtlessness, while, in all
cases, he is encouraging by his example a practice which, if not his own
ruin, is certain to be the ruin of others. The light-heartedness with
which many a man risks his whole fortune, and the welfare of all who are
dependent on him, for what would, if gained, be no great addition to his
happiness, is a striking example of the frequent blindness of men to all
results except those which are removed but one step from their actions.
A gamester, however sanguine, sees that he may lose his money, but he
does not see all the ill consequences to himself and others which the
loss of his money will involve. Hence an act, which, if we look to the
intention, is often only thoughtless, becomes, in result, criminal, and
it is of the utmost importance that society, by its reprobation, should
make men realise what the true nature of such actions is.
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