Principia Ethica 7

Principia Ethica 7

8.= When we say, as Webster says, ‘The definition of horse is “A

hoofed quadruped of the genus Equus,”’ we may, in fact, mean three

different things. (1) We may mean merely: ‘When I say “horse,” you are

to understand that I am talking about a hoofed quadruped of the genus

Equus.’ This might be called the arbitrary verbal definition: and I

do not mean that good is indefinable in that sense. (2) We may mean,

as Webster ought to mean: ‘When most English people say “horse,” they

mean a hoofed quadruped of the genus Equus.’ This may be called the

verbal definition proper, and I do not say that good is indefinable

in this sense either; for it is certainly possible to discover how

people use a word: otherwise, we could never have known that ‘good’ may

be translated by ‘gut’ in German and by ‘bon’ in French. But (3) we

may, when we define horse, mean something much more important. We may

mean that a certain object, which we all of us know, is composed in a

certain manner: that it has four legs, a head, a heart, a liver, etc.,

etc., all of them arranged in definite relations to one another. It is

in this sense that I deny good to be definable. I say that it is not

composed of any parts, which we can substitute for it in our minds when

we are thinking of it. We might think just as clearly and correctly

about a horse, if we thought of all its parts and their arrangement

instead of thinking of the whole: we could, I say, think how a horse

differed from a donkey just as well, just as truly, in this way, as now

we do, only not so easily; but there is nothing whatsoever which we

could so substitute for good; and that is what I mean, when I say that

good is indefinable.

 

 

=9.= But I am afraid I have still not removed the chief difficulty

which may prevent acceptance of the proposition that good is

indefinable. I do not mean to say that _the_ good, that which is good,

is thus indefinable; if I did think so, I should not be writing

on Ethics, for my main object is to help towards discovering that

definition. It is just because I think there will be less risk of error

in our search for a definition of ‘the good,’ that I am now insisting

that _good_ is indefinable. I must try to explain the difference

between these two. I suppose it may be granted that ‘good’ is an

adjective. Well ‘the good,’ ‘that which is good,’ must therefore be the

substantive to which the adjective ‘good’ will apply: it must be the

whole of that to which the adjective will apply, and the adjective must

_always_ truly apply to it. But if it is that to which the adjective

will apply, it must be something different from that adjective itself;

and the whole of that something different, whatever it is, will be

our definition of _the_ good. Now it may be that this something will

have other adjectives, beside ‘good,’ that will apply to it. It may be

full of pleasure, for example; it may be intelligent: and if these two

adjectives are really part of its definition, then it will certainly be

true, that pleasure and intelligence are good. And many people appear

to think that, if we say ‘Pleasure and intelligence are good,’ or if we

say ‘Only pleasure and intelligence are good,’ we are defining ‘good.’

Well, I cannot deny that propositions of this nature may sometimes be

called definitions; I do not know well enough how the word is generally

used to decide upon this point. I only wish it to be understood that

that is not what I mean when I say there is no possible definition of

good, and that I shall not mean this if I use the word again. I do most

fully believe that some true proposition of the form ‘Intelligence is

good and intelligence alone is good’ can be found; if none could be

found, our definition of _the_ good would be impossible. As it is,

I believe _the_ good to be definable; and yet I still say that good

itself is indefinable.

 

 

=10.= ‘Good,’ then, if we mean by it that quality which we assert to

belong to a thing, when we say that the thing is good, is incapable

of any definition, in the most important sense of that word. The most

important sense of ‘definition’ is that in which a definition states

what are the parts which invariably compose a certain whole; and in

this sense ‘good’ has no definition because it is simple and has no

parts. It is one of those innumerable objects of thought which are

themselves incapable of definition, because they are the ultimate

terms by reference to which whatever _is_ capable of definition must

be defined. That there must be an indefinite number of such terms is

obvious, on reflection; since we cannot define anything except by

an analysis, which, when carried as far as it will go, refers us to

something, which is simply different from anything else, and which by

that ultimate difference explains the peculiarity of the whole which we

are defining: for every whole contains some parts which are common to

other wholes also. There is, therefore, no intrinsic difficulty in the

contention that ‘good’ denotes a simple and indefinable quality. There

are many other instances of such qualities.

 

Consider yellow, for example. We may try to define it, by describing

its physical equivalent; we may state what kind of light-vibrations

must stimulate the normal eye, in order that we may perceive it. But a

moment’s reflection is sufficient to shew that those light-vibrations

are not themselves what we mean by yellow. _They_ are not what we

perceive. Indeed we should never have been able to discover their

existence, unless we had first been struck by the patent difference of

quality between the different colours. The most we can be entitled to

say of those vibrations is that they are what corresponds in space to

the yellow which we actually perceive.

 

Yet a mistake of this simple kind has commonly been made about ‘good.’

It may be true that all things which are good are _also_ something

else, just as it is true that all things which are yellow produce a

certain kind of vibration in the light. And it is a fact, that Ethics

aims at discovering what are those other properties belonging to all

things which are good. But far too many philosophers have thought that

when they named those other properties they were actually defining

good; that these properties, in fact, were simply not ‘other,’ but

absolutely and entirely the same with goodness. This view I propose

to call the ‘naturalistic fallacy’ and of it I shall now endeavour to

dispose.

 

 

=11.= Let us consider what it is such philosophers say. And first it is

to be noticed that they do not agree among themselves. They not only

say that they are right as to what good is, but they endeavour to prove

that other people who say that it is something else, are wrong. One,

for instance, will affirm that good is pleasure, another, perhaps, that

good is that which is desired; and each of these will argue eagerly

to prove that the other is wrong. But how is that possible? One of

them says that good is nothing but the object of desire, and at the

same time tries to prove that it is not pleasure. But from his first

assertion, that good just means the object of desire, one of two things

must follow as regards his proof:

 

(1) He may be trying to prove that the object of desire is not

pleasure. But, if this be all, where is his Ethics? The position he is

maintaining is merely a psychological one. Desire is something which

occurs in our minds, and pleasure is something else which so occurs;

and our would-be ethical philosopher is merely holding that the latter

is not the object of the former. But what has that to do with the

question in dispute? His opponent held the ethical proposition that

pleasure was the good, and although he should prove a million times

over the psychological proposition that pleasure is not the object of

desire, he is no nearer proving his opponent to be wrong. The position

is like this. One man says a triangle is a circle: another replies

‘A triangle is a straight line, and I will prove to you that I am

right: _for_’ (this is the only argument) ‘a straight line is not a

circle.’ ‘That is quite true,’ the other may reply; ‘but nevertheless

a triangle is a circle, and you have said nothing whatever to prove

the contrary. What is proved is that one of us is wrong, for we agree

that a triangle cannot be both a straight line and a circle: but which

is wrong, there can be no earthly means of proving, since you define

triangle as straight line and I define it as circle.’--Well, that is

one alternative which any naturalistic Ethics has to face; if good is

_defined_ as something else, it is then impossible either to prove that

any other definition is wrong or even to deny such definition.

 

(2) The other alternative will scarcely be more welcome. It is that the

discussion is after all a verbal one. When A says ‘Good means pleasant’

and B says ‘Good means desired,’ they may merely wish to assert that

most people have used the word for what is pleasant and for what is

desired respectively. And this is quite an interesting subject for

discussion: only it is not a whit more an ethical discussion than the

last was. Nor do I think that any exponent of naturalistic Ethics

would be willing to allow that this was all he meant. They are all so

anxious to persuade us that what they call the good is what we really

ought to do. ‘Do, pray, act so, because the word “good” is generally

used to denote actions of this nature’: such, on this view, would be

the substance of their teaching. And in so far as they tell us how we

ought to act, their teaching is truly ethical, as they mean it to be.

But how perfectly absurd is the reason they would give for it! ‘You are

to do this, because most people use a certain word to denote conduct

such as this.’ ‘You are to say the thing which is not, because most

people call it lying.’ That is an argument just as good!--My dear sirs,

what we want to know from you as ethical teachers, is not how people

use a word; it is not even, what kind of actions they approve, which

the use of this word ‘good’ may certainly imply: what we want to know

is simply what _is_ good. We may indeed agree that what most people

do think good, is actually so; we shall at all events be glad to know

their opinions: but when we say their opinions about what _is_ good, we

do mean what we say; we do not care whether they call that thing which

they mean ‘horse’ or ‘table’ or ‘chair,’ ‘gut’ or ‘bon’ or ‘ἀγαθός’; we

want to know what it is that they so call. When they say ‘Pleasure is

good,’ we cannot believe that they merely mean ‘Pleasure is pleasure’

and nothing more than that.

 

 

=12.= Suppose a man says ‘I am pleased’; and suppose that is not a lie

or a mistake but the truth. Well, if it is true, what does that mean?

It means that his mind, a certain definite mind, distinguished by

certain definite marks from all others, has at this moment a certain

definite feeling called pleasure. ‘Pleased’ _means_ nothing but having

pleasure, and though we may be more pleased or less pleased, and even,

we may admit for the present, have one or another kind of pleasure;

yet in so far as it is pleasure we have, whether there be more or less

of it, and whether it be of one kind or another, what we have is one

definite thing, absolutely indefinable, some one thing that is the

same in all the various degrees and in all the various kinds of it

that there may be. We may be able to say how it is related to other

things: that, for example, it is in the mind, that it