Principia Ethica 38

Principia Ethica 38

(1) It is just possible that the Absolute Good may be entirely

composed of qualities which we cannot even imagine. This is possible,

because, though we certainly do know a great many things that are

good-in-themselves, and good in a high degree, yet what is best does

not necessarily contain all the good things there are. That this is so

follows from the principle explained in Chap. I. (§§ 18-22), to which

it was there proposed that the name ‘principle of organic unities’

should be confined. This principle is that the intrinsic value of a

whole is neither identical with nor proportional to the sum of the

values of its parts. It follows from this that, though in order to

obtain the greatest possible sum of values in its parts, the Ideal

would necessarily contain all the things which have intrinsic value in

any degree, yet the whole which contained all these parts might not be

so valuable as some other whole, from which certain positive goods were

omitted. But if a whole, which does not contain all positive goods, may

yet be better than a whole which does, it follows that the best whole

_may_ be one, which contains _none_ of the positive goods with which we

are acquainted.

 

It is, therefore, _possible_ that we cannot discover what the Ideal

is. But it is plain that, though this possibility cannot be denied,

no one can have any right to assert that it is realised--that the

Ideal _is_ something unimaginable. We cannot judge of the comparative

values of things, unless the things we judge are before our minds. We

cannot, therefore, be entitled to assert that anything, which we cannot

imagine, would be better than some of the things which we can; although

we are also not entitled to deny the possibility that this may be the

case. Consequently our search for the Ideal must be limited to a search

for that one, among all the wholes composed of elements known to us,

which seems to be better than all the rest. We shall never be entitled

to assert that this whole is Perfection, but we shall be entitled to

assert that it is _better_ than any other which may be presented as a

rival.

 

But, since anything which we can have any _reason_ to think ideal

must be composed of things that are known to us, it is plain that

a comparative valuation of these must be our chief instrument

for deciding what is ideal. The best ideal we can construct will

be that state of things which contains the greatest number of

things having positive value, and which contains nothing evil or

indifferent--_provided_ that the presence of none of these goods,

or the absence of things evil or indifferent, seems to diminish the

value of the whole. And, in fact, the chief defect of such attempts as

have been made by philosophers to construct an Ideal--to describe the

Kingdom of Heaven--seems to consist in the fact that they omit many

things of very great positive value, although it is plain that this

omission does _not_ enhance the value of the whole. Where this is the

case, it may be confidently asserted that the ideal proposed is not

ideal. And the review of positive goods, which I am about to undertake,

will, I hope, shew that no ideals yet proposed are satisfactory. Great

positive goods, it will appear, are so numerous, that any whole,

which shall contain them all, must be of vast complexity. And though

this fact renders it difficult, or, humanly speaking, impossible, to

decide what is The Ideal, what is the absolutely best state of things

imaginable, it is sufficient to condemn those Ideals, which are formed

by omission, without any visible gain in consequence of such omission.

Philosophers seem usually to have sought only for the _best_ of single

things; neglecting the fact that a whole composed of two great goods,

even though one of these be obviously inferior to the other, may yet be

often seen to be decidedly superior to either by itself.

 

(2) On the other hand, Utopias--attempted descriptions of a Heaven

upon Earth--commonly suffer not only from this, but also from the

opposite defect. They are commonly constructed on the principle of

merely omitting the great positive evils, which exist at present, with

utterly inadequate regard to the goodness of what they retain: the

so-called goods, to which they have regard, are, for the most part,

things which are, at best, mere means to good--things, such as freedom,

_without_ which, possibly, nothing very good can exist in this world,

but which are of no value in themselves and are by no means certain

even to produce anything of value. It is, of course, necessary to the

purpose of their authors, whose object is merely to construct the

best that may be possible in this world, that they should include,

in the state of things which they describe, many things, which are

themselves indifferent, but which, according to natural laws, seem

to be absolutely necessary for the existence of anything which is

good. But, in fact, they are apt to include many things, of which

the necessity is by no means apparent, under the mistaken idea that

these things are goods-in-themselves, and not merely, here and now,

a means to good: while, on the other hand, they also omit from their

description great positive goods, of which the attainment seems to be

quite as possible as many of the changes which they recommend. That

is to say, conceptions of the Human Good commonly err, not only, like

those of the Absolute Good, in omitting some great goods, but also by

including things indifferent; and they both omit and include in cases

where the limitations of natural necessity, by the consideration of

which they are legitimately differentiated from conceptions of the

Absolute Good, will not justify the omission and inclusion. It is, in

fact, obvious that in order to decide correctly at what state of things

we ought to aim, we must not only consider what results it is possible

for us to obtain, but also which, among equally possible results, will

have the greatest value. And upon this second enquiry the comparative

valuation of known goods has a no less important bearing than upon the

investigation of the Absolute Good.

 

 

=112.= The method which must be employed in order to decide the

question ‘What things have intrinsic value, and in what degrees?’

has already been explained in Chap. III. (§§ 55, 57). In order to

arrive at a correct decision on the first part of this question, it is

necessary to consider what things are such that, if they existed _by

themselves_, in absolute isolation, we should yet judge their existence

to be good; and, in order to decide upon the relative _degrees_ of

value of different things, we must similarly consider what comparative

value seems to attach to the isolated existence of each. By employing

this method, we shall guard against two errors, which seem to have

been the chief causes which have vitiated previous conclusions on the

subject. The first of these is (1) that which consists in supposing

that what seems absolutely necessary here and now, for the existence of

anything good--what we cannot do without--is therefore good in itself.

If we isolate such things, which are mere means to good, and suppose

a world in which they alone, and nothing but they, existed, their

intrinsic worthlessness becomes apparent. And, secondly, there is the

more subtle error (2) which consists in neglecting the principle of

organic unities. This error is committed, when it is supposed, that,

if one part of a whole has no intrinsic value, the value of the whole

must reside entirely in the other parts. It has, in this way, been

commonly supposed, that, if all valuable wholes could be seen to have

one and only one common property, the wholes must be valuable solely

_because_ they possess this property; and the illusion is greatly

strengthened, if the common property in question seems, considered

by itself, to have more value than the other parts of such wholes,

considered by themselves. But, if we consider the property in question,

_in isolation_, and then compare it with the whole, of which it forms

a part, it may become easily apparent that, existing by itself, the

property in question has not nearly so much value, as has the whole to

which it belongs. Thus, if we compare the value of a certain amount of

pleasure, _existing absolutely by itself_, with the value of certain

‘enjoyments,’ containing an equal amount of pleasure, it may become

apparent that the ‘enjoyment’ is much better than the pleasure, and

also, in some cases, much worse. In such a case it is plain that the

‘enjoyment’ does _not_ owe its value _solely_ to the pleasure it

contains, although it might easily have appeared to do so, when we

only considered the other constituents of the enjoyment, and seemed

to see that, without the pleasure, they would have had no value. It

is now apparent, on the contrary, that the whole ‘enjoyment’ owes its

value quite equally to the presence of the other constituents, _even

though_ it may be true that the pleasure is the only constituent having

any value by itself. And similarly, if we are told that all things

owe their value solely to the fact that they are ‘realisations of the

true self,’ we may easily refute this statement, by asking whether the

predicate that is meant by ‘realising the true self,’ supposing that it

could exist alone, would have any value whatsoever. Either the _thing_,

which does ‘realise the true self,’ has intrinsic value or it has not;

and if it has, then it certainly does not owe its value solely to the

fact that it realises the true self.

 

 

=113.= If, now, we use this method of absolute isolation, and guard

against these errors, it appears that the question we have to answer

is far less difficult than the controversies of Ethics might have led

us to expect. Indeed, once the meaning of the question is clearly

understood, the answer to it, in its main outlines, appears to be so

obvious, that it runs the risk of seeming to be a platitude. By far the

most valuable things, which we know or can imagine, are certain states

of consciousness, which may be roughly described as the pleasures of

human intercourse and the enjoyment of beautiful objects. No one,

probably, who has asked himself the question, has ever doubted that

personal affection and the appreciation of what is beautiful in Art

or Nature, are good in themselves; nor, if we consider strictly what

things are worth having _purely for their own sakes_, does it appear

probable that any one will think that anything else has _nearly_ so

great a value as the things which are included under these two heads.

I have myself urged in Chap. III. (§ 50) that the mere existence of

what is beautiful does appear to have _some_ intrinsic value; but I

regard it as indubitable that Prof. Sidgwick was so far right, in the

view there discussed, that such mere existence of what is beautiful

has value, so small as to be negligible, in comparison with that which

attaches to the _consciousness_ of beauty. This simple truth may,

indeed, be said to be universally recognised. What has _not_ been

recognised is that it is the ultimate and fundamental truth of Moral

Philosophy. That it is only for the sake of these things--in order that

as much of them as possible may at some time exist--that any one can

be justified in performing any public or private duty; that they are

the _raison d’être_ of virtue; that it is they--these complex wholes

_themselves_, and not any constituent or characteristic of them--that

form the rational ultimate end of human action and the sole criterion

of social progress: these appear to be truths which have been generally

overlooked.

 

That they are truths--that personal affections and aesthetic enjoyments

include _all_ the greatest, and _by far_ the greatest, goods we can