Principia Ethica 37

Principia Ethica 37

Hebrew prophets, by recommending such virtues as ‘justice’ and ‘mercy’

as against mere ritual observances; and, in so far as it does this, it

is recommending virtues which may be _merely_ good as means, exactly

like the Aristotelian virtues. This characteristic of its teaching must

therefore be rigorously distinguished from that which consists in its

enforcement of such a view as that to be angry without a cause is as

bad as actually to commit murder. And, in the second place, though the

New Testament does praise some things which are only good as means, and

others which are good in themselves, it entirely fails to recognise

this distinction. Though the state of the man who is angry may be

really as bad in itself as that of the murderer, and so far Christ

may be right, His language would lead us to suppose that it is _also_

as bad in every way, that it _also causes_ as much evil: and this is

utterly false. In short, when Christian Ethics approves, it does not

distinguish whether its approval asserts ‘This is a means to good’ or

‘This is good in itself’; and hence it both praises things merely good

as means, as if they were good in themselves, and things merely good in

themselves as if they were also good as means. Moreover it should be

noticed, that if Christian Ethics does draw attention to those elements

in virtues which are good in themselves, it is by no means alone in

this. The Ethics of Plato are distinguished by upholding, far more

clearly and consistently than any other system, the view that intrinsic

value belongs exclusively to those states of mind which consist in love

of what is good or hatred of what is evil.

 

 

=108.= But (_c_) the Ethics of Christianity are distinguished from

those of Plato by emphasizing the value of one particular motive--that

which consists in the emotion excited by the idea, not of any

intrinsically good consequences of the action in question, nor even

of the action itself, but by that of its rightness. This idea of

abstract ‘rightness’ and the various degrees of the specific emotion

excited by it are what constitute the specifically ‘moral sentiment’ or

‘conscience.’ An action seems to be most properly termed ‘internally

right[23],’ solely in virtue of the fact that the agent has previously

regarded it as right: the idea of ‘rightness’ must have been present

to his mind, but need not necessarily have been among his motives. And

we mean by a ‘conscientious’ man, one who, when he deliberates, always

has this idea in his mind, and does not act until he believes that his

action is right.

 

[23] This sense of the term must be carefully distinguished from

that in which the agent’s intention may be said to be ‘right,’ if

only the results he intended would have been the best possible.

 

The presence of this idea and its action as a motive certainly seem

to have become more common objects of notice and commendation owing

to the influence of Christianity; but it is important to observe

that there is no ground for the view, which Kant implies, that it is

the _only_ motive which the New Testament regards as intrinsically

valuable. There seems little doubt that when Christ tells us to ‘Love

our neighbours as ourselves,’ He did not mean merely what Kant calls

‘practical love‘--beneficence of which the _sole_ motive is the idea of

its rightness, or the emotion caused by that idea. Among the ‘inward

dispositions’ of which the New Testament inculcates the value, there

are certainly included what Kant terms mere ‘natural inclinations,’

such as pity, etc.

 

But what are we to say of virtue, when it consists in a disposition to

be moved to the performance of duties by this idea? It seems difficult

to deny that the emotion excited by rightness as such has some

intrinsic value; and still more difficult to deny that its presence

may heighten the value of some wholes into which it enters. But, on

the other hand, it certainly has not more value than many of the

motives treated in our last section--emotions of love towards things

really good in themselves. And as for Kant’s implication that it is

the sole good[24], this is inconsistent with other of his own views.

For he certainly regards it as _better_ to perform the actions, to

which he maintains that it prompts us--namely, ‘material’ duties--than

to omit them. But, if better at all, then, these actions must be

better either in themselves or as a means. The former hypothesis would

directly contradict the statement that this motive was _sole_ good,

and the latter is excluded by Kant himself since he maintains that

no actions can _cause_ the existence of this motive. And it may also

be observed that the other claim which he makes for it, namely, that

it is _always_ good as a means, can also not be maintained. It is as

certain as anything can be that very harmful actions may be done from

conscientious motives; and that Conscience does not always tell us the

truth about what actions are right. Nor can it be maintained even that

it is _more_ useful than many other motives. All that can be admitted

is that it is one of the things which are generally useful.

 

[24] Kant, so far as I know, never expressly states this view,

but it is implied _e.g._ in his argument against Heteronomy.

 

What more I have to say with regard to those elements in some virtues

which are good in themselves, and with regard to their relative degrees

of excellence, as well as the proof that all of them together cannot be

the sole good, may be deferred to the next chapter.

 

 

=109.= The main points in this chapter, to which I desire to direct

attention, may be summarised as follows:--(1) I first pointed out how

the subject-matter with which it deals, namely, ethical judgments

on conduct, involves a question, utterly different in kind from the

two previously discussed, namely: (_a_) What is the nature of the

predicate peculiar to Ethics? and (_b_) What kinds of things themselves

possess this predicate? Practical Ethics asks, not ‘What ought to be?’

but ‘What ought we to do?’; it asks what actions are _duties_, what

actions are _right_, and what _wrong_: and all these questions can

only be answered by shewing the relation of the actions in question,

as _causes_ or _necessary conditions_, to what is good in itself. The

enquiries of Practical Ethics thus fall entirely under the _third_

division of ethical questions--questions which ask, ‘What is good as

a means?’ which is equivalent to ‘What is a means to good--what is

cause or necessary condition of things good in themselves?’ (86-88).

But (2) it asks this question, almost exclusively, with regard to

actions which it is possible for most men to perform, if only they

_will_ them; and with regard to these, it does not ask merely, which

among them will have _some_ good or bad result, but which, among all

the actions possible to volition at any moment, will produce the best

_total_ result. To assert that an action is a duty, is to assert that

it is such a possible action, which will _always_, in certain known

circumstances, produce better results than any other. It follows that

universal propositions of which duty is predicate, so far from being

self-evident, always require a proof, which it is beyond our present

means of knowledge ever to give (89-92). But (3) all that Ethics has

attempted or can attempt, is to shew that certain actions, possible by

volition, _generally_ produce better or worse total results than any

probable alternative: and it must obviously be very difficult to shew

this with regard to the total results even in a comparatively near

future; whereas that what has the best results in such a near future,

also has the best on the whole, is a point requiring an investigation

which it has not received. If it is true, and if, accordingly, we give

the name of ‘duty’ to actions which _generally_ produce better total

results in the near future than any possible alternative, it may be

possible to prove that a few of the commonest rules of duty are true,

but _only_ in certain conditions of society, which may be more or less

universally presented in history; and such a proof is only possible

_in some cases_ without a correct judgment of what things are good

or bad in themselves--a judgment which has never yet been offered by

ethical writers. With regard to actions of which the _general_ utility

is thus proved, the individual should _always_ perform them; but in

other cases, where rules are commonly offered, he should rather judge

of the probable results in his particular case, guided by a correct

conception of what things are intrinsically good or bad (93-100).

(4) In order that any action may be shewn to be a duty, it must be

shewn to fulfil the above conditions; but the actions commonly called

‘duties’ do not fulfil them to any greater extent than ‘expedient’

or ‘interested’ actions: by calling them ‘duties’ we only mean that

they have, _in addition_, certain non-ethical predicates. Similarly by

‘virtue’ is mainly meant a permanent disposition to perform ‘duties’

in this restricted sense: and accordingly a virtue, if it is really

a virtue, must be good _as a means_, in the sense that it fulfils the

above conditions; but it is not _better_ as a means than non-virtuous

dispositions; it generally has no value in itself; and, where it has,

it is far from being the sole good or the best of goods. Accordingly

‘virtue’ is not, as is commonly implied, an unique _ethical_ predicate

(101-109).

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER VI.

 

THE IDEAL.

 

 

=110.= The title of this chapter is ambiguous. When we call a state of

things ‘ideal’ we may mean three distinct things, which have only this

in common: that we always do mean to assert, of the state of things in

question, not only that it is good in itself, but that it is good in

itself in a much higher degree than many other things. The first of

these meanings of ‘ideal’ is (1) that to which the phrase ‘_The_ Ideal’

is most properly confined. By this is meant the _best_ state of things

_conceivable_, the Summum Bonum or Absolute Good. It is in this sense

that a right conception of Heaven would be a right conception of the

Ideal: we mean by the Ideal a state of things which would be absolutely

perfect. But this conception may be quite clearly distinguished from a

second, namely, (2) that of the best _possible_ state of things in this

world. This second conception may be identified with that which has

frequently figured in philosophy as the ‘Human Good,’ or the _ultimate_

end towards which our action should be directed. It is in this sense

that Utopias are said to be Ideals. The constructor of an Utopia may

suppose many things to be possible, which are in fact impossible; but

he always assumes that some things, at least, are rendered impossible

by natural laws, and hence his construction differs essentially

from one which may disregard _all_ natural laws, however certainly

established. At all events the question ‘What is the best state of

things which we could _possibly_ bring about?’ is quite distinct from

the question ‘What would be the best state of things conceivable?’

But, thirdly, we may mean by calling a state of things ‘ideal’ merely

(3) that it is good in itself in a high degree. And it is obvious that

the question what things are ‘ideal’ in this sense is one which must