Uf antcll HniuEcsitg ffiibrarg 3tljaca. Wrni lock BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND THE GIFT OF HENRY W. SAGE 1891 Cornell University Library HM216 -S35 Science and social progress. olin 3 1924 030 242 147 B Cornell University Q Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924030242147 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS A PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION TO MORAL SCIENCE BT HERBERT WALLACE SCHNEIDER, Ph.D. ARCHIVES OF PHILOSOPHY EDITBD BT FKEDEHICK J. E. WOODBBXDGE NO. 12, MAT, 1920 LAXCASTEB, FA. 1880 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS A PHILOSOPHICAL INTRODUCTION TO MORAL SCIENCE BY HERBERT WALLACE SCHNEIDER, Ph.D. ARCHIVES OP PHILOSOPHY EDITED BT FREDERICK J. E. WOODBHIDGE No. 12, Mat, 1920 LANCASTER, PA. 1930 PRESS OP THE NEW ERA PRINTING COMPANY LANCASTER, PA. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS To the writer this essay represents an intellectual autobiography, rather than a piece of research. It is but a record of some of his experiences as a student under the Department of Philosophy at Columbia. Consequently the debt which he owes to the members of the department can not be made explicit by specific references in the essay ; rather the essay as a whole is an expression of his indebtedness. He is indebted above all to Professors John Dewey and Frederick J. E. Woodbridge, not only for their continual intellectual stimula- tion, but also for their invaluable criticisms and suggestions in connec- tion with this work. To Professor John J. Coss of the department at Columbia the writer owes a peculiar obligation for his constant advice and helpful criticism. He also appreciates the valuable services ren- dered by Mr. A. E. Severinghaus in the preparation of the manuscript. H. W. S. CONTENTS Page Preface vii Chapter I. Science — Theoretical and Practical i Relation to other distinctions — Sidgwick's distinctions — Principles and "Applications" (Mill) — Theory as a basis (Mill) — Miscel- laneous distinctions of subject-matter — Reflection and Evaluation in the organization of science — Structural and Evaluative Science — Implications — Their relations — The distinction in ethics — Levy- Bruhl's science des moeurs. Chapter II. The Search for Moral Structures n Moral theory as a sanction — Mathematical structures: Kant — G. E. Moore — Rousseau — Bentham — Martineau — Mechanical struc- tures : Evolution — Moral world order — Laws of evolution as forces — Biological structures — Sociological structures — The morale posi- tive — Other functions of the search for moral structures — The " natural basis " — Attempt at moral science — Demoralization — Structures are not moral — Effect on moral practise. Chapter III. Morality and Social Progress 23 Morality a natural function — Analysis of the moral quality — Goods and human control — Progress a product of art — Evolution of man's control: (1) Optimistic resignation (Spencer) — (2) Transcendentalism (Kant) — (3) Rational control (Condorcet, Kant) — Value of (1) and (2) — Morality as activity qua control or progress — Morality as duty — Motive of simplicity — Shift in moral problems — Subordination to problem of goods — Custom vs. reflec- tive morality — Duty as pedagogical side of morals — The moral and the social — Moral science, the science of social progress. Chapter IV. Social Science and Social Progress 33 Social and physical science — Social science structural — Structural science and human control : Fatalism — Trial and error — Idealism — Structural science, and the discovery of limits — Gap in develop- ment between social and physical sciences — Present state of social science — History — Psychology — Economics — Sociology — Anthro- pology — Transitional state of social science — Social science and in- struments of control. VI CONTENTS Page Chapter V. Moral Science and Social Progress 44 Need of scientific technique in moral science — Relation to democ- racy — Subject-matter — Object — Method — Relation to social sci- ence — Present status and social need of moral science. Chapter VI. From Morality to Freedom 58 Social ends in science and art — The definition of ends — Hypothet- ical ends — The goal itself not logical — Free social art. Bibliography 63 PREFACE " Give us a guide," cry men to the philosopher. 1 " We would escape from these miseries in which we are entangled. A better state is ever present to our imaginations, and we yearn after it ; but all our efforts to realize it are fruitless. We are weary of perpetual failures ; tell us by what rule we may attain our desire. . . ." " Have a little patience," returns the moralist, " and I will give you my opinion as to the mode of securing this greatest happiness to the greatest number." "There again," exclaim the objectors, "you mistake our require- ment. We want something else than opinions. We have had enough of them. Every futile scheme for the general good has been based on opinion ; and we have no guarantee that your plan will not add one to the list of failures. Have you discovered a means of forming an infallible judgment? If not, you are, for aught we know, as much in the dark as ourselves. True, you have obtained a clearer view of the end to be arrived at ; but concerning the route leading to it, your offer of an opinion proves that you know nothing more certain than we do. We demur to your maxim because it is not what we wanted — a guide ; because it dictates no sure mode of securing the desideratum; because it puts no veto on a mistaken policy; because it permits all actions — bad, as readily as good — provided only the actors believe them con- ducive to the prescribed end. Your doctrines of ' expediency ' or ' utility ' or ' general good ' or ' greatest happiness to the greatest num- ber' afford not a solitary command of a practical character. Let but rulers think, or profess to think, that their measures will benefit the community, and your philosophy stands mute in the presence of the most egregious folly, or the blackest misconduct. This will not do for us. We seek a system that can return a definite answer when we ask — ' Is this act good ?' " This eternal demand confronts us to-day with a more awful urg- ency than ever before. The times are bristling with urgent issues. Men and women are compelled to face them and to decide. There are not merely the whole host of petty personal problems, nor merely the familiar combats of local politics, nor even the greater issues of na- tional life and polity. There are all of these, but added to them are 'Herbert Spencer: Social Statics, pp. 11-13. vii Vlii PREFACE new issues, new problems which are world-wide in scope, and within whose meshes lie the destinies of nations. And these tremendous issues are being faced not merely by small groups of men, by rulers and statesmen. They are issues which will be ultimately decided by the millions of " common people " whom they ultimately concern. And yet there is scarcely a single issue which could be called " morally simple," for it is not an issue between a recognized good and a recog- nized evil ; it is an issue in which both sides contend : " This is good." The average voter, the common man, is hence more directly concerned with the problem of whom to believe, than with the issue itself. " Who can tell me," he asks almost in despair, "which of the gentlemen is telling the truth?" He is in need of insight, enlightenment, rather than of " moral suasion." In other words, he is in need of the " means of forming an infallible judgment." It is the problem of supplying this need which is of crucial importance to current moral philosophy. And moral philosophy is trying to meet it in two ways. The one way is to pretend to have at last " discovered a means of forming an infallible judgment," a certain rule, an absolute standard. This usually turns out to be but the addition of one more opinion "to the list of failures," and for the very reasons which Spencer has above pointed out. Opinions are easily disguised as absolute truths. This is, in fact, the way in which Spencer answers his own question. It is the philosopher's pet form of self-deception. The other, more honest way of meeting this demand is to admit impotency. It is, as Spencer puts it, to submit " that such expectations are unreasonable." It contents itself with proving that a panacea for all moral ills is an impossibility; that an absolute standard is a self- contradiction ; that supposedly certain and fixed rules are merely opin- ions, and far from infallible ; that what is good can not be determined by a " system." But it is clear that neither of these ways helps out the original problem. They tend to neutralize each other. The one makes pre- tences and the other exposes them. The positive problem of finding out what is good is left untouched. All that moral philosophy has done has been to clear away certain impediments which have prevented an inquiry into human goods. The positive task of meeting the chal- lenge made by moral practise, it has failed to undertake. It may be that the demand made upon it is unjust. The task may be impossible ; at least impossible from the point of view of moral philosophy. Moral practise may have to turn elsewhere for a guide. But so much is clear, that here is an urgent demand, a need unfulfilled. It is a demand for PREFACE IX what might be called a genuine moral science. Our object in this essay is to inquire into the nature of this demand and the conditions under which it may be met. Moral science has been proclaimed ever since science became respectable. But the term " science " on the cover of a book on ethics by no means indicates a scientific inquiry. On the contrary, very fre- quently the older " moral philosophy " tried to save its face by adopting the more fashionable title of " science." The attempt to achieve moral certainty by short-cut methods persists in spite of the claim that ethics has become a " science." Hence the need of inquiring into the impli- cations of the introduction of scientific method into ethics. One of the objections to a moral science as it is here described will no doubt be that it goes too far afield ; that it is useless for class-room purposes; that it can not be put into a text-book; that it can not be taught or studied in the course of a college curriculum as is ethics ; that it can not be organized into a " body of knowledge," etc. And this is precisely the implication. Moral science, as it is here conceived, is an out-of-door science. It is not a matter of text-books, of proposi- tions, of dialectics, of maxims, etc. It is an experimental inquiry involving social activities of all sorts. It can not be carried on in a classroom or a library; it must carry on social experiments, social legislation, and social reconstruction. It is only gradually that the re- sults of such researches can be organized into some sort of coherent form and unity, and embodied in books. Moral science, in other words, is not a system of truths, but an inquiry. It is only by the adoption of scientific methods in the inquiry into moral problems, that our moral life can ever gain that assurance and certainty which Spencer demands. The short-cuts to truth, which are so tempting to the moral philosopher end in a blind alley. Freedom can be purchased only by the patient toil of scientific research. Stated in these broad terms, the thesis of this essay sounds like a platitude. To insist on the social necessity of scientific research, would seem to be insisting on a commojiplace. Science no longer needs justi- fication. No attempt is here made to justify it. The validity and utility of science are taken for granted. But the mere fact that the desirability of science and scientific method is so generally admitted, has tempted men to conjure with these terms. Almost anything will pass now-a- days if it is labelled "scientific." The term has become merely eulo- gistic. Hence the need of inquiring more closely into the exact impli- cations of science from the point of view of social art. X PREFACE The following essay is not intended as a piece of moral science, but only as an introduction to it. "Notwithstanding the extreme gen- erality of the principles of method which I have laid down (a general- ity which, I trust, is not, in this instance, synonymous with vagueness), I have indulged the hope that to some of those on whom the task will devolve of bringing those most important of all sciences into a more satisfactory state, these observations may be useful ; both in removing erroneous, and in clearing up the true conceptions of the means by which, on subjects of so high a degree of complication, truth can be attained." 2 2 Mill: System of Logic. Vol. II, 10th ed., pp. 556-557. CHAPTER I SCIENCE— THEORETICAL AND PRACTICAL It has become a fashion to introduce books on ethics, and to a less extent books on sociology, economics and political science, by distin- guishing between pure and applied science, between theoretical and practical science; or in general between theory and practise, science and art. And these distinctions are usually made, after the manner of fashions, in a purely formal way. But sometimes they serve to smuggle in other distinctions, such as those between normative and descriptive sciences, the "ought" and the "is," judgments of value and judgments of fact, the ideal and the real. The result has been a very general confusion, and some attempt must be made to clear it up, before it is possible to discuss moral science intelligently. In the first place there are two separate distinctions which are commonly confused ; the one, the distinction between theory and prac- tise or between science and art; the other, the distinction between theoretical (or pure) science and practical (or applied) science. The former is a distinction between science and something not science, the latter between kinds of science. Taking up the former first, it is evi- dent that the distinction between science and art is a distinction within art. For science is an art, the art of inquiry or of thinking. There was a time when thinking was not a controlled art, but a spontaneous activity, random inference. Much of our inference is still uncon- trolled. But the development of scientific method means the establish- ment of an art of inference. To distinguish between science and art must mean, therefore, to distinguish between the art of thinking and the non-intellectual arts ; or more specifically between activities organ- ized for the purpose of knowing, and activities organized for the pur- pose of commerce, political government, amusement, etc. This dis- tinction is quite clearly independent of that other, between pure and applied, theoretical and practical science, and need not concern us further. But this second distinction is made apparently between kinds of science. It is often used, however, especially in ethical literature, not as a distinction within science, but to distinguish between science and something else. This use makes theory equivalent to science and sets 2 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS it over against art, rather than over against practical or applied sci- ence ; thus reducing this second distinction to the first. Sidgwick, for example, has a good deal of trouble because of the various uses of these terms, and to show the confusion which is current, we might quote from his handling of the problem. He begins by the statement that "Ethics is a department of the Theory or Study of Practise." 1 He goes on to say : " I have called Ethics a study rather than a science, because it is widely thought that a science must necessarily have some department of actual existence for its subject-matter" (p. i). So he distinguishes two kinds of study, "the positive and the practical" (p. 2). The positive only is, strictly speaking, science, as used above, and it is " an attempt to ascertain the general laws or uniformities by which the varieties of human conduct, and of men's sentiments and judgments respecting conduct may be explained" (p. 2), as in psychol- ogy and sociology. The practical " study " is " an attempt to deter- mine which of these varieties of conduct is right and which of these divergent judgments valid " (p. 2) . But then he ceases to restrict the term " science " to the " positive " type of study, and applies it to the practical by defining "Ethics as the science or study of what is right or what ought to be" (p. 4). So that, as Sidgwick uses them, the terms science and theory are interchangeable, and there is no contra- diction in speaking of practical theory, just as we speak of ethics as a practical science. It is quite evident here that the usual distinction between theoretical and practical science is Sidgwick's distinction be- tween " positive " and " practical," and that theory is but another name for science in general. Now it is also evident that what follows in Sidgwick's book is not ethics, for its subject-matter is not the study of what ought to be, but a study of the methods of knowing what ought to be. It is "methods of ethics." Now the science of methods of ethics is a " positive," not a practical theory, and so we get still another distinction, namely, between the " theoretical study of right conduct " or "the theory of ethics" and "its practical applications" (p. 12). 2 These " practical applications," it would seem, are none other than the practical study (or theory) above called ethics, which could now scarcely be called theory in the same sense in which he here speaks of " the theory of ethics," and which might, therefore, be called practical. In other words theory can not mean the same thing when opposed to 1 H. Sidgwick: Methods of Ethics, 5th ed., p. xvii. 2 Page 12: "The theory of Ethics would seem to be somewhat impeded by the prepon- derance of practical considerations; and perhaps a more complete detachment of the theoretical study of right conduct from its practical application is to be desired for the sake even of the latter itself." SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 3 practise as it does when it is opposed to practical science. Sidgwick is an unusually careful writer, and the fact that even he is not con- sistent in his use of these terms is an index of the general confusion which hovers about them. But this much at least seems clear, that we are not dealing here merely with the distinction between science and art, but with a distinction between kinds of science, i. e., within science. And hence it is important to try to discover exactly what the distinction means and just how theoretical science is related to prac- tical science or the pure 3 to the applied. So we shall consider several of the current statements of this relation. Perhaps the most current is that pure science lays down certain principles and that applied science is the application of these to prac- tical affairs. This does not mean that practical science is the verifica- tion in practise of the theories or hypotheses of pure science ; it merely means that the discoveries of pure science are utilized by practical science with reference to human ends. The following is a typical statement : " Pure science is theoretical, applied science practical. The first seeks to establish the principles of the science, the second points out their actual or possible applications." 4 According to this idea practical science is simply a " pointing out " affair. The implication is that the applications of the theoretical principles can be directly deduced from them, or that the principles somehow come labeled with their applications. The principles of pure science are supposed to have applications in much the same way as a bottle of medicine has direc- tions for use on its label ; and all that practical science has to do is to " apply " these directions. J. S. Mill makes a more careful and ex- plicit statement of this view, when he says: 5 "Art 6 brings together from parts of the field of science most remote from one another, the truths relating to the production of the different and heterogeneous conditions necessary to each effect which the exigencies of practical life require to be produced." The whole matter hinges around the phrase, "truths relating to the production." If the truths are already given to practical science as truths relating to this particular prac- tical situation, it is hard to see in what sense practical science can be called science, for there is nothing problematic about the situation, there is nothing left to be " found out," it is all there to begin with. If s There is an obsolescent use of the term " pure sciences " in which they are contrasted as abstract, deductive sciences to the concrete and inductive sciences. With this distinction we are not concerned. 4 L. F. Ward: Pure Sociology, p. 3. 'Mill: System of Logic, 10th ed., Vol. II, p. 551. 6 Mill is here using the term Art in the sense of Practical Science, as his reference to Bain in the footnote clearly shows. 4 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS the principles are given as applying, i. e., guaranteed for this situa- tion, there is nothing left for practical science to do, except to follow directions, and this can hardly be called science. But the case is differ- ent, if practical science has precisely the task of relating theoretical truths to practical problems, if it has to discover relations, instead of merely applying ready-made ones. For this would require a scientific technique, with all the scientific machinery of testing and verifying. Hence the phrase "the application of science," so flippantly used in current literature, really begs the whole issue as to the nature of applied science, for the problem is, whether this application can be effected directly with an advance guarantee, or whether the " applica- tion " of science is itself a genuine science. A second notion regarding this distinction is that theoretical science is the foundation or justification for practical science. This idea is more current in ethical literature than in the other sciences. It is still a common statement that theoretical ethics furnishes the basis, founda- tion, justification of practical ethics. This is due to the fact that ethics, both theoretical and practical, is not yet a science. A quotation from Mill might serve again to illustrate: "Every art has one first principle, or general major premise, not borrowed from science; that which enunciates the object aimed at, and affirms it to be a desirable object. . . . For the purpose of practise, every one must be required to justify his approbation: and for this there is need of general premises, determining what are the proper objects of approbation, and what the proper order of precedence among those objects." 7 These general premises he calls a " body of doctrine," " the doctrine of ends," "first principles of conduct," or the "theory of the foundations of morality." 8 Mill saves himself by making this "theory" not theoret- ical science, but theoretical art ; it is " the first principles of conduct " as opposed to the "first principles of knowledge." 9 Now, according to Mill, the first principles of knowledge are really " the last results of metaphysical analysis." 10 The implications of Mill's own position, ' Ibid., pp. 552-553. 8 Pp- 553-555- 9 P- 554- 10 Mill's logic admits that in the realm of science the presumably first principles are not the foundations for knowledge, but the result of logical analysis; that the major premises, in other words, are not starting points for thinking, but occupy an intermediate position in the passage from particular to particular. But Mill retains in the realm of morals, practise and art, the old idea that the major premises are the foundations. Cf. the following from his Utilitarianism, pp. 2-3: "The truths which are ultimately accepted as the first principles of science, are really the last results of metaphysical analysis, practised on the elementary notions with which the science is conversant. ... But though in science the particular truths precede the general theory, the contrary might be expected to be the case with a practical art, such as morals or legislation. All action is for the sake of some end, and rules of action . . . must take their whole character and colour from the end to which they are subservient." SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 5 therefore, are that if ethics were to become a genuine science, it would have as little need for a theoretical ethics to give practical ethics a foundation or justification, as any other science. The only justifica- . tion which a practical science of morals needs is the fact of morality. This exists as a natural fact, and can no more be justified by ethical theory than astronomy can justify the moon. A practical principle or rule of conduct is not justified by referring it to " major premises " or "first principles," but by its consequences. In the physical sciences this now goes without saying ; and the failure to admit it in the moral sciences is due to the desire to rationalize existing practise, instead of making practise rational. 11 If, as Mill assumes, " all action is for the sake of some end," his conclusion is justified; for then the field of action is distinguished from the field of nature by its purposive con- stitution ; and " the first principles of conduct " bear a different relation to practical science than the first principles of knowledge bear to theo- retical science. But if the world of action or practise is no more in- herently purposive and rational than the physical universe, the analogy between the physical and moral sciences is quite complete. It is one thing to say that human conduct can be made more rational than it is, and another to say that it is inherently rational or purposive to begin with. Thirdly there are a large group of theories which base the distinc- tion between theoretical and practical science more directly on a differ- ence of subject-matter. We have already noted a very common one in Sidgwick, namely, that theoretical (positive) science has to do with what is, and practical science with what ought to be. Kant, Wundt and others make the subject-matter of theoretical (speculative) sci- ence the necessary laws of nature, and of practical science, the will or volitions of man. 12 But it will be noticed that most of these distinc- tions are apologetic in origin. They are employed to rationalize vari- ous ethical systems. And, although we can find some general similar- ities among them, we shall do better to turn to the natural sciences, where the distinction is no longer in dispute, and where we can see its actual meaning in practise, rather than its use in moral dialectics. Without attempting any empirical proof or justification, except such as the following chapters may offer, I submit that what we actu- ally find in the organization of science is the distinction between reflec- tive and deliberative thinking, or between reflection and evaluation, 11 V. Levy-Bruhl: Ethics and Moral Science, pp. 79, 154-157. 12 Note also Aristotle's distinction between Being or Existence and Becoming or Genera- tion : lirLffT^tLij irepl r& bv, Texrf n^P* ykvetjiv. Post. Analytics, B ig. 6 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS and that this distinction is a distinction of subject-matter. Reflective science inquires into the problems of structure and seeks to formulate natural laws ; deliberative science inquires into the problems of activ- ity, and seeks to expand human control over nature. The object of reflection is discovery ; the object of evaluation is invention. The former is the discovery of structures, the latter the invention of goods. Hence, we might call theoretical science structural, and practical sci- ence evaluative. Now there is nothing very new or startling about this distinction, and it may be accepted as a platitude, so far as this goes. But the important problem is the relation which exists between them, between the discovery of structures and the invention of goods. The thesis here developed is that the discovery of structures is made not antecedent to invention, but within it ; and that in invention these discoveries function as instruments of control. This implies several things. It implies, in the first place, the fact of structure. For the natural laws which structural science formulates can only be instruments of control if they are genuine discoveries. If the world were not structural, the formulae of science (if possible at all) could not be instruments of control, they would be stumbling- blocks. In fact, all control would be impossible. In a chaotic world, . activity would forever be the slave of chance and caprice ; in a world of law, freedom of activity is possible. It is implied in the second place, that the distinction is due to dis- tinct subject-matter and objects. Structural science deals with the relations between facts, with "objective reality," with nature. Its object is the discovery of causal relations, the formulation of natural laws and limits of action. If we could use " nature " in contradistinc- tion to art, as did the Greeks, we might call it natural science. It is the interpretation of nature in terms of structure. Evaluative science, on the other hand, deals with agenda, 13 with things to be done. Its object is the determination of a course of action. The distinction is thus based on the fundamental distinction between structure and activity. A third implication is that of interdependence. That evaluative or applied science is dependent upon structural science, is quite evident, for without it, it would be like a workman without tools. But struc- tural science or " pure " science is supposed to be quite independent and self-sufficing in its purity, and hence the following considerations are of weight: (i) the discovery of structures has meaning only with reference to the process of control. The history of science itself should u V. Dewey: Essays in Experimental Logic, p. 335. SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 7 be sufficient to prove this, for the discovery of natural structures is always linked up with a demand for control. But even theoretically, what possible meaning would the attempt to discover structures have apart from the increased control which man gains thereby ? The facts by themselves are not structural, they simply are; and to find struc- tural relationships in them, is to find a possibility of handling them. 11 There is an apparent contradiction in saying on the one hand that the laws of nature are genuine discoveries, and on^the other that they are instruments of control. But really both statements express the same fact only from opposite view points. If we are defining the fact from the point of view of structural science, we define it in terms of rela- tionships discovered among facts of nature ; if we are defining it from the point of view of human art, we define it in terms of its function in the process of human control. The difference lies not in the fact itself, but in the standpoints with reference to. which it is defined. (2) It is impossible to discover structures except by attempting to control facts. In other words, structures are discovered as the limits of activity, as its limitations, as impasses, as impossibilities. They represent what we can't change. Man at first tries to do anything and everything, and only gradually learns what he can and can't do. Thus the discovery of structures is incidental to the attempt at control, rather than vice versa. And this leads directly to a fourth general implication of the rela- tion between the two sciences, namely, the experimental method. From the statement made above, that the test of the genuineness of a struc- tural discovery is its ability to serve as a tool of control, it might be inferred that applied science was the verification of the hypotheses of pure science. And this would be true, were it not for the establishment of the experimental technique. It would be absurd to call the verifica- tion carried on in physical and chemical laboratories " applied r ' sci- ence, because hypotheses are there being put to work. For the experi- mental technique is precisely a method by which pure or structural science can carry on verification, without having to wait for the cruder and slower verification afforded in " real life." 15 It is precisely because the structural sciences have been able to create these test con- ditions and experimental apparatus that they have gained a greater independence and have been able to far outrun the discoveries which « V. Ibid., p. 344- 16 Of course, the test of practical science is an added confirmation ; and if a structural formula is found not to work when applied, it means that the experimental verification of pure science has been faulty or incomplete. But as a rule, the engineer, e.g., does not try to verify the laws of motion; he takes them for granted. 8 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS the conditions of " real life " make possible. And that is why pure and applied science are far less distinct in the social sciences. Social Ex- perimentation has not yet been able to separate itself from actual social life to any great extent, and it probably never will be able to separate itself in the same degree as in the physical sciences. Hence the dis- covery of natural structures by social science will always be more or less dependent upon actual efforts at social control, and the evaluative sciences will be the verification of the structural social sciences, or in other words, the discovery of structures and the invention of goods will be complementary functions of one experimental process. For the invention of goods requires an experimental technique as well as does structural science. Goods can not be inferred directly from structural principles; they must be found out by experimental verification. Evaluation is hence a genuine science. This experimen- tation is made more efficient by a knowledge of structural relations and natural mechanisms, but these are tools in the process of con- trol. They are not principles of practise, but principles for prac- tise. Hence knowledge of what to do, of what ought to be, of goods, is just as much a product of experiment as knowledge of natural laws. It can not be acquired either by intuition, or by direct " application," or by following unreflectively the way which structural science points out. For structural science points no way at all. Structural science is instrumental in solving these practical problems, but of itself it does not solve them. That is the task of evaluative science. Now just as it is more efficient to have the proper tools ready at hand, than to be compelled to first make them, so it is advantageous for evaluative science to have reliable tools made ahead of time by structural science. And hence human control has been greatly ex- panded by the separation in actual practise of pure and applied science. But if the separation means a sacrifice of experimental method and actual verification, it can not be justified ; for that would only hamper control, by furnishing it with stumbling-blocks in the guise of tools. We are now in a position to return to ethics, and ask: what does being a theoretical or practical science imply for ethics? It is evident from the foregoing discussion, that if moral science is theoretical, it presupposes moral structures. A scientific theory of morals would be in no sense "normative," nor concerned with formulating precepts, maxims, rules for action or moral laws in any legislative sense. Its subject-matter would be an " objective ethical reality," to use Levy- Bruhl's term, and its object would be the discovery of its natural struc- tures. It would be a natural science in the fullest sense of the term. SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 9 There is nothing a priori, transcendental or non-empirical about it. It has a concrete subject-matter of inquiry within the general domain of nature. If, on the other hand, ethics is a practical science, its business is valuation. Its subject-matter is concrete practical problems demand- ing action. It does not start from a final end, nor presuppose a Doc- trine of Ends, as Mill has it. It can not claim to be independent of the realm of facts, of the " is," and of natural laws, for these are its instruments of control. And it is not a mere "application" of prin- ciples layed down by theoretical science. It is itself a genuine science, requiring an experimental technique and issuing in knowledge. Here a word of criticism of Levy-Bruhl's distinction between the science des mosurs and the art moral rationnel 16 is relevant. By a science des mceurs he means "the positive study of social reality" (p. 154), "that is, the scientific analysis of the past of different human /societies and of the laws which rule the different series of social phenomena and their relations " (p. 232) . " That reality no more than the other (the physical) is to be ' constructed ' or ' founded.' It is, like the other, to be observed, analyzed, and reduced to laws" (p. 154). The art moral rationnel is "an art comparable with mechanics and medicine. The art will make use of the knowledge of sociological and psychological laws to improve existing manners and institutions just as mechanics and medicine utilize the knowledge of mathematical, phys- ical, chemical and biological laws. ... It will only be formed in pro- portion to the progress of the sciences on which it depends, very slowly perhaps, by successive and partial inventions " (p. 204). This distinc- tion appears to be identical with that made in this chapter, and it differs more in its implications than in its explicit statement. One implication is that of moral structures. This will be taken up in the next chapter and need not concern us here. Another is the implication of posi- tivistic rather than scientific or experimental social science. It is implied that there are a host of distinct facts, which can be observed directly, and which need but to be related in order to give a " knowl- edge of the social reality " adequate for the rational moral art. Hence a valid knowledge of social structures is supposed to be gained quite independently of social experimentation. Verification is supposed to antedate " intervention," instead of being a product of it. A third implication, and the most important, is that the knowledge is all on the side of structural science, and that the art moral rationnel is not itself M L. Levy-Bruhl: La morale et le science des maurs. English translation (not very good) by Elizabeth Lee: Ethics and Moral Science, London, 1905. References are to the translation. See especially, Chapters IV and IX. 10 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS science, but an art based on science. This means that moral knowl- edge is all acquired by the science des mceurs, and that " moral art " is but an application of a knowledge externally acquired, rather than itself an intellectual activity. Levy-Bruhl speaks of the art moral rationnel as being based on social science, derived from it, following after it, subordinate to it, the " practical applications " of it, etc. These phrases seem to imply that the moral art can be somehow directly derived from social science as its basis, and the fact is overlooked, that both social science, which is structural, and the art moral rationnel, which is evaluative, are correlative scientific enterprises, each having a distinct scientific function, but neither independent of the other. But these criticisms are after all minor points, and the discussion of this chapter, as of the succeeding chapters, has gained much from Levy- Bruhl's work. His chief contention, and the contention of this essay, is that the further extension of human control over nature, particularly over social nature, can only be accomplished with the adoption in the social and moral sciences of those methods of scientific reflection and deliberation which have secured our control over physical nature. CHAPTER II THE SEARCH FOR MORAL STRUCTURES John Stuart Mill made the remark 1 that ethics has been "not so much a guide as a consecration." And the more one reflects on the character of traditional ethical theory, the more one is compelled to realize the truth and pertinency of this remark, for ethical theory has concerned itself not so much with discovering human goods and the means of their attainment, as with discovering how to sanction most satisfactorily a morality which is largely taken for granted. Levy- Bruhl has emphasized this fact by pointing out that the various ethical systems of a given period, while differing widely in their theoretical formulation, are very similar on their concrete, practical side. 2 Men differ less in the morality which they practise, than in their ways of sanctioning it. The religious sanction has always been powerful, and the social sanction still more so. But neither has proven sufficient by itself, for men have tried at all times to add a rational sanction. Scholasticism, which tried to unify the rational and the religious sanctions, was very powerful indeed. But with the break-up of both medieval religion and medieval science, the demand for sanctions became most urgent. So men began to rake nature high and low for moral sanctions, and the task of finding a " basis " for morality has remained one of the chief diversions of moralists to this day. Just how it is that this speculative or theoretical inquiry has such a great sanctioning power, may be explained by recalling what was said in the previous chapter. We said there that theoretical inquiry seeks to discover structures. This is exactly what moral theorists have attempted to do — to find moral structures in nature. And having found these, having found moral principles embedded in nature herself, they could rest secure. For what surer foundation or firmer basis could there be ? For if the moral law is a fixed, eternal law of nature, morality ceases to be dependent on contingent situations and empirical happenings, and possesses the absolute sanction and guarantee of nature herself. Human goods are then not merely human goods, but 1 Utilitarianism, p. 5. * Ethics and Moral Science, pp. 28 ff. 12 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS natural laws. It would be difficult to conceive of a more powerful sanction than this. Hence the persistency of the search for moral structures. I shall try to indicate in the following pages several types of moral structures which men have found in nature, illustrating each by reference to some of the modern moralists. Perhaps the simplest and at the same time the most compelling type of structure is that represented by the laws of mathematical 3 reasoning. Not only was this type of structure one of the first to be discovered and formulated, but there has been a constant effort to reduce other types to it. And hence it is but natural that the search for mathemat- ical structures in morals is a very persistent enterprise. For let a man set out to find some sort of absolute certainty in the seeming uncer- tainties of the moral life, and where would he sooner turn than with Descartes to the " exact " sciences ? The Cartesians and Empiricists indeed turned their back on them, and appealed to more immediate experience, but this appeal was in the interests of reform, of dethroning established sanctions, and was usually abandoned when they in turn sought to sanction something new. We can imagine how words like the following from Hume must have irritated a man like Kant, who was heart and soul in the search for certainty. " What theory of morals can ever serve any useful pur- pose, unless it can show by a particular detail, that all the duties which it recommends are also the true interests of each individual?"* What sort of certainty is that, which speaks of particular details and duties, interests and individuals ? No, this will not do for Kant. He realizes that such a method can never yield the absolute and universal certainty which he demands. 5 So he goes about the problem in a different way. He looks for universal, a priori moral laws in nature — universal forms, independent of " interests," " particular duties," etc. Given these, the rest of morality can be deduced mathematically, and morality becomes as " pure " as you please. It is not necessary here to describe these familiar forms, or mathe- matical structures of Kant's theory. It would be more profitable to note a similar procedure in a modern realist. G. E. Moore, in his Principia Ethica, is free from Kant's metaphysical machinery, but he tries to do a very similar thing for ethics. It is the business of ethics, according to him, to " enumerate all true universal judgments " regard- ing intrinsic good. These must not assert any causal or temporal rela- * The term " mathematical " is here used in its broadest sense. It embraces what is usu- ally termed " logical " or dialectical reasoning. * Hume: Enquiry into the Principles of Morals, Pt. II, sec. IX, p. 228. 5 Kant: Theory of Ethics (Abbott), pp. 123-126. SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 13 tions, for then they would not assert universal truths, but only general truths, namely, that such and such effects generally follow. Intrinsic goods can only be determined in isolation, independent of all causal or temporal relations. " 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." 6 This indicates in bare outline the mathematical character of Moore's theory. 7 It is just as much a pure mathematics of morals as is that of Kant. It is not merely an attempt to think accurately and to make ethics an " exact " science ; it is also an attempt to find mathematical structures in morality, i. e., universal relations expressible only in prop- ositions of mathematical precision. But this formal aspect of moral judgments and goods is not the only department of moral inquiry which has been put into a mathe- matical mold. An interesting example of another kind of mathematical structure is found in Rousseau's inquiry into the Principles of Political Right or the Social Contract. His first words frankly state his pur- pose in this essay : " I mean to inquire," says he, " if in the civil order there can be any sure and legitimate rule of administration." And a little furthert down he tells us that the question which he is trying to answer is: "What can make it [the change from natural freedom to social bonds] legitimate ?" The term " legitimate " is used here not in the legal sense, but rather in the sense of "justifiable." Evidently, then, he is trying to justify, sanction, legitimize something. But not only must this " rule of administration " be legitimate, it must also be " sure," that is, absolutely certain, absolutely valid ; or better, in order that it may be "legitimate" it must be absolutely "sure." In other words Rosseau is trying to find an absolute standard, by which to judge the civil administration; and he does it by mathematical reasoning. What Spinoza's Ethica did for metaphysics, Rousseau's Social Con- tract did for morals. It is moral philosophy more geometrico demon- strata. It begins with a few simple propositions, axioms, we might call them, such as : " Man is born free," " His first law is to provide for his own preservation," " Liberty can not be alienated," etc. From these he draws conclusions, which must necessarily follow logically. New propositions and corollaries are thus produced, until the whole logical structure of society is reared. The chief requirement of such a treatise is that it shall be logically, deductively, mathematically sound, " G. E. Moore: Principia Ethica, p. 187. 'Only half of the Principia is here touched upon, the theoretical problem of the good; the other part is the practical problem of right and duty, which is a problem of cause and effect, of consequences and instrumental goods. He separates the two rigidly. 14 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS that the conclusions shall follow from the premises. It is absolute and universal. Granting the premises, the rest follows logically. The axioms are themselves not particular facts of experience, concrete existences, but general propositions which seem to be too simple to require or be capable of proof. The treatise as a whole, therefore, like a geometry is absolute and has universal logical validity, even though it may have no practical application. It is accurate, precise and rigor- ous. It would be meaningless to say : the General Will is usually about right, just as much as it would be meaningless to say: the angles of a triangle are usually about equal to two right angles. By definition the General Will = Right. It is not a question of approximation in fact, but a system of absolute rational relations. What we have here in Rousseau, then, is a body of political rights and social obligations trans- formed into mathematical structures, for the sake of justifying or sanctioning a " rule of administration." Another type of mathematical structure is found in Bentham's pleasure-pain calculus. It is based on the axiom 8 that " Nature has placed mankind under the governance of two sovereign masters, pain and pleasure." 9 Pains and pleasure vary in value according to intens- ity, duration, certainty, propinquity, fecundity, purity and extent. From this follows the calculus, which we quote in Bentham's word's: 10 " Sum up all the values of all the pleasures on the one side, and those of all the pains on the other. The balance, if it be on the side of pleasure, will give the good tendency of the act on the whole, with respect to the interests of that particular person; if on the side of pain, the bad tendency of it on the whole. . . . " Take an account of the number of persons whose interests appear to be concerned; and repeat the above process with respect to each. Sum up the numbers expressive of the degrees of good tendency, which the act has, with respect to each individual, in regard to whom the tendency of it is good upon the whole: do this again with respect to each individual, in regard to whom the tendency of it is bad on the whole. Take the balance." Bentham did not intend this as a practical advice or device, for he immediately adds, that " it is not expected that this process should be strictly pursued previously to every moral judgment;" but he did. intend it as an accurate theoretical description of moral judgment. And this implies that values are related in a mathematical way, and that, if 5 An axiom to Bentham: " Is it susceptible of any direct proof? It should seem not: for that which is used to prove everything else, can not itself be proved." Principles of Morals and Legislation, I: xi. 'Ibid., I, i. 10 Ibid., IV, V, 5-6. SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 15 we could find suitable units of measure, we could solve the problem algebraically. A correlative of this on the internal side, the side of motive, is found in Martineau's moral scale of instincts. 11 Martineau succeeds in arranging all the " propensions, passions, affections and sentiments" into a scale, representing their order of moral worth, from lowest to highest, beginning with censoriousness, vindictiveness, suspiciousness, up to compassion and reverence. Each spring of action is thus given a fixed moral status ; so that, when a conflict of impulses arises, all that needs to be done is to apply this slide rule, and it will infallibly tell which is right. For the moral rule is simply : " Every action is right, which, in presence of a lower principle, follows a higher ; every action is wrong, which, in presence of a higher principle, follows a lower." This is the same sort of a situation as we found in Bentham, except that here the greater part of the calculation is ready-made, since the scale holds good absolutely; and then too, the calculation is simpler, since the moral scale can easily be memorized or carried in the vest- pocket, whereas Bentham's necessitates double-entry bookkeeping. These rather random examples will suffice to illustrate the various attempts which have been made to discover what I have called " mathe- matical" structures in morals. A second type might be called " mechanical " structures. The aptness of the terms " mathematical " and " mechanical " is not a matter of prime concern here, nor is the question of the genuineness of the structures. What does concern us here is the fact that certain fixed relations in nature are selected and given moral quality, and that morality is consequently made a part of nature's framework. Now to turn to the mechanical types. It is hardly necessary to dwell on the conception of " natural forces " as controlling and direct- ing agencies in human history. Attempts have been made to describe social progress and even the course of evolution in general in terms of the interaction and equilibration of these mechanical forces. The laissez faire doctrine is, of course, the classic form of this idea. But instead of going into the mechanics of the laissez faire doctrine, I shall pass it over, except in connection with Spencer, and try to show the same idea as it is found in Marx and so-called " scientific " socialism. It may seem rather paradoxical to mention Marx in connection with moral theory, for he was not only a bitter opponent of the moral theories of his day and moral theory in general, but he consistently refused to give his own work a moral flavor. Morality was to him "Martineau: Types of Ethical Theory, II, 266, 270, 275. l6 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS merely a sanction for bourgeois supremacy. He justified his own prac- tical program not by a new moral theory, but by showing its inevitable- ness and natural necessity; thus raising it beyond the pale of morals and into the realm of science. Nevertheless his followers have suc- ceeded in moralizing it, and it rapidly became a political and moral issue. Marx himself yielded to some extent, as is shown in the Com- munist Manifesto of 1848 by Marx and Engels. Here he tries to show by an historical and economic analysis that the speedy collapse of capitalistic society is inevitable. He shows how the interplay of existing economic forces is steadily guiding social changes and undermining social institutions, and how it is but a ques- tion of time and " the great cataclysm " will come. The problem is like a problem in celestial mechanics, like observing the collision of two stars, or like calculating the path of a comet. Our figures are not so exact and our measurements not so fine, but the movement of social ' progress is just as fixed as the motion of the stars, and the results just as inevitable. Thus socialism becomes " scientific." Marx probably emphasized this theory less than Engels, and Engels less than their fol- lowers. " The social revolution," as Marx's " cataclysm " came to be called, became the corner stone of socialistic theory, and the Marxians were put into a frame of mind very similar to that of the early Chris- tians, who expected the great day of judgment to break upon them at any time. 12 We are here dealing not merely with the discovery of economic laws, but with the conception of these laws as regulating moral forces or agencies, which make for social progress. One might expect that the theory of the inevitable cataclysm would lead to a moral laissez faire doctrine, and there is something anomalous in using the theory of natural necessity to sanction a social propaganda. It sounds almost ironical- to read on one page of the Manifesto about the " new social laws [i. e., natural laws of social development] that are to create these conditions" and the "spontaneous class-organization of the proletariat" 13 and then to read the battle cry: "Workmen of all nations, unite ! " It leads one to suspect that the revolution is not so inevitable as it is supposed to be. 1 * But this is beside the point. What interests us here is primarily Marx's attempt to mechanize human progress. "In his scheme of events Marx conceded us no chances whatever. No matter from what angle we might view our future, our doom was fore-ordained. The M V. John Spargo: Socialism. 1 3 Communist Manifesto, Pt. Ill, sec. 3. » Marx has a way out, of course, by saying that this union is merely to hasten the coming of the inevitable. SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 17 concentration of industry and agriculture, the socialization of all pro- duction, the massing of all wealth and capital in the hands of the few ; the disappearance of the middle class, the steadily growing antagonism between the two remaining classes, the increasing misery of the prole- tariat, and the rapid approach of the life and death struggle between labor and capital ; the overwhelming legions of the proletariat, and the dwindling number of capitalistic magnates — all these tendencies were making socialism inevitable." 15 And all these tendencies were not mere tendencies, but the manifestations of uncontrollable, inexorable, me- chanical forces which were working themselves out in human society. 16 A more elaborate formulation of such mechanical moral laws is found in Spencer, who spared no pains in making them as exact and as general as possible. There is no need of rehearsing the familiar form- ulas here, except to show their thoroughly mechanical nature and their moral bearings. The whole matter can be boiled down to this: The absolutely good is the absolutely pleasurable. The absolutely pleasur- able is found only in perfectly adapted activity. Evil is the result of temporary inadaptation. Adaptation is an equilibration of forces. 17 This equilibration takes place in the cosmic process of evolution, " for the process of evolution must inevitably favor all changes of nature which increase life and augment happiness." 18 This process is mechan- ical and expressible in a single mechanical formula. "By the term, civilization, we signify the adaptation which has already taken place. The changes that constitute progress are the successive steps of the transition. . . . The inference that as advancement has hitherto been the rule, it will be the rule henceforth, may be called a plausible specu- lation. But when it is shown that this advancement is due to the work- ing of a universal law ; and that in virtue of that law it must continue until the state we call perfection is reached, then the advent of such a state is removed out of the region of probability into that of cer- tainty." 19 The moral progress of man is hence in nature's hands. It behooves man simply to discover what nature is doing, and then to obey. " To think we can better ourselves by deserting the road marked out for us, is an impious assumption of more than divine omniscience." 20 So the practical conclusion is : laissez faire la nature. This is, of course, the barest outline of Spencer's philosophy of 15 Simkhovitch : Marxism vs. Socialism, p. 225. V. also Chs. X and XI. M V. Karl Kautsky: Ethics and the Materialist Conception of History, Ch. VI, 5. d, for ■A moral formulation of Marxism. » Principles of Biology, Pt. Ill, Chs. XI, XII, XIII. » Principles of Ethics, II, p. 432. " Social Statics, p. 78. *>Ibid., p. 65. 18 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS morals, but I think it is sufficient to illustrate the point at hand, namely, the attempt to make moral forces out of mechanical structures. It is interesting to note that Spencer's " First Principles," which are purely mechanical formulae, were first developed not as the " Law of Evolu- tion," but as the " Law of Progress." 21 His primary interest seems to have been not so much the scientific one of discovering natural laws, as the practical one of transferring human progress from human con- trol to natural necessity. "Thus progress is not an accident, not a thing within human control, but a beneficent necessity." 22 But in this discussion of mechanical structures we have already entered another type of structure, namely, historical structures, or as they are usually termed, laws of evolution. We have just seen how Spencer synthesized mechanical and historical structures. Since all mechanical structures involve the time element, it is natural that a "synthetic" philosopher like Spencer should seek to formulate the time process itself in mechanical terms, and all the more so since he was so greatly under the influence of celestial mechanics and the astronomy of LaPlace. On the other hand Spencer is but one example of the attempt to explain historical processes in non-historical terms. Hegel, with his synthesis of Reason and History, is another example. The mere mention of Geothe, Fichte, Marx, Buckle, suggest other " philos- ophies of history," of which the nineteenth century is full. Indeed the appeal to history and supposed historical structures was the favorite sanction for nineteenth century morals, and it would make an interest- ing chapter to discuss the moral implications which were given to these pre-scientific theories of evolution. For our present purposes, how- ever, it suffices to point out how the discovery of genuine historical structures, beginning with Darwin and biological science, has influenced the search for moral structures. In the first place the fact of evolution was used to give scientific semblance to the theological idea of a purposive world process. For example : " We observe," concludes one author, " that there is a moral order in history, and that this order realizes a purpose which lies be- neath the plane of individuals and nations, a purpose, therefore, which is divine. As the course of history is followed, it is seen proceeding on moral lines." 23 This is, of course, merely a variation on the old theme which attributes to the world as a whole a moral structure. More significant and more subtle is the popular idea, closely akin to the above, that evolution inherently and of itself involves progress. 21 V. Essays, Vol. I, " Progress, its Law and Cause." 22 Ibid., p. 60. 23 G. Harris: Moral Evolution. SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 19 Evolutionary laws are supposed to make progress, and hence they are given moral quality. Spencer and the laissez faire theory in general have contributed a great deal to this idea, and "the survival of the fittest," " adaptation " and " creative evolution " have been pressed to the limit as moral laws. But in a more specific way, certain biological and psychological structures have been selected as being peculiarly and intrinsically moral. Certain instincts, for example, have been called moral. Martineau, as we saw above, goes so far as to assign moral status to all instincts and emotions, grading them on a fixed moral scale. In a similar way Sutherland speaks of "the moral instinct," and Wester- marck of " the moral emotions " as opposed to non-moral emotions and instincts. In a similar way the French morale positive is based on the attempt to find sociological moral structures. A great deal of the French dis- cussion centers about the fait moral. It is a fundamental point of positivistic procedure to begin with the observation of " facts " and then discover their relations or laws. Accordingly, if moral theory is to be scientific or positivistic, it must start with an observable " moral fact." This means not merely the fact of morality, but a certain kind of fact, which as a fact has moral quality. Leon Bourgeois in 1896 pre- sented Comte's idea of solidarite as the fait moral, 2i and this idea has found very general acceptance. 25 Durkheim and his school have con- tinued the search for the fait moral. In a similar sense, Levy-Bruhl speaks of " ethical nature," " ethical facts " and " ethical reality " as of a certain kind of social facts or structures which have moral quality. But this is not so evident in Levy-Bruhl as in Durkheim, for by the terms " ethical reality," etc., he usually means simply the facts of morality. But in general, the idea of " moral facts " is central in posi- tivistic ethics, and the object of the French moral science is to discover the laws which govern these " moral facts." These, then, are some types (mathematical, mechanical, historical, 21 V. Bourgeois: Solidarity, sees. Ill and V. Also the following by £. Boutroux: "La Morale comme science positive" Rev. de MHaphysique et de morale, XVI: "Si la psychologie, si la sociologie peuvent reposer sur une base veritablement scientifique, pourquoi n'en seriat-il pas de meme de la morale? II faudrait pour qu'il en jut ainsi, qu'il existat un fait, a la fois objectivement observable, et susceptible de fournir une norme a la conduite humaine. Or la solidarite parait, precise'ment, reunir ces deux conditions. Elle est donne comme fait. . . . Un meme concept, celui de solidarite, exprvme ainsi, par I'une de ses faces, un fait scientifique, par I'autre une obligation juridique." 25 Since I have tried to bring out incidentally the sanctioning function of the search for moral structures, I might note here that this appeal to " solidarity " grew directly out of the social needs of France after the Franco-Prussian war. V. S. Deploige: La conflit de la morale et de la sociologie, xgii, p. 128. And A. Espinas: " Etre ou ne pas etre," Revue Philoso- phique. Vol. 51, 1901, pp. 449 ff. 20 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS biological, sociological) of structures, which have been found, or at least sought, in morals. No doubt others might be mentioned. A little reflection makes it quite evident that this attempt to find moral quality in the very frame-work of nature constitutes an important part, if not the most important part, of our traditional ethical theory. One reason for this has already been pointed out — the need of a sanction. Moral distinctions and judgments always arise in the exigencies of human conduct, where uncertainty is as inevitable as it is intolerable. Hence the attempt to elevate the precarious moral situation into a natural structure creates a very powerful sanction, and indeed makes any fur- ther sanction superfluous. But there are two other functions of this search, which should be pointed out here. The first is, that it served to bring moral theory down to earth. When morality became artificially divorced from ex- perience and human relationships, when the " ought " was entirely independent of the " is," there was need of regaining for moral theory a natural footing. This motive, that of finding a " natural basis " for morality, comes out strongly in practically every one of the moralists discussed above. Even Kant, though he kept the " ought " and the " is " as independent as ever, at least tried to make this duality a fact of nature and experience, instead of a supernatural revelation. In the evolutionistic and realistic ethics and in the French sociologie nothing is more evident than this desire to give morality a natural, real, posi- tive status. And so in every case, we might show how the search for moral structures was in the interests of a "natural" ethics — natural instead of supernatural, actual instead of ideal, real instead of artificial. The other function of this search is closely linked up with what has just been said ; it is the attempt to study morality scientifically. If a science of ethics is to be possible at all, there must be some objective reality, some definite set of relations which can be observed and formu- lated as laws. This is the motive in back of the positivistic ethics: moral science implies moral " facts," whose relations can be observed and formulated, and it is not until we take the subject-matter of ethics as something given, an " ethical reality " or fait moral that a scientific ethics in any real sense is possible. In other words, it is implied that if ethics is to be a natural science, it must have moral structures for its subject-matter. Now it is not my purpose here to discuss the problem of whether the structures here described have a genuine natural existence, that is, whether they represent scientific discoveries. Most of them have been disproven by subsequent scientific inquiry, but some seem to be genuine. SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 21 The question I wish to raise is a simpler one, but at the same time a more significant one, namely, in what sense can these, or any struc- tures, be called moral ? or in other words : how can we distinguish be- tween moral and non-moral structures ? We might begin with the paradoxical statement, that the search for moral structures is an attempt to demoralize morality. It proves too much, for structures as such are essentially non-moral. What, for ex- ample, does it mean to call an instinct moral, except in so far as it enters into a temporary, or better, temporal moral situation ? Or what is there moral about any fact as such ? Or in what sense can a law of evolution be called moral ? A structure as such has no moral status. It is only as it becomes a factor in a certain situation, which we call a moral situation, that any moral quality adheres to it. It is therefore impossible to discover moral quality by a purely structural analysis. Morality is always a quality or function of a situation, a course of con- duct, a phase of activity, and though these situations themselves may involve certain structural principles, these principles themselves can not give them their moral quality. We may take as many structural cross- sections of the universe as we please and not find a trace of morality, just as we may dissect the nervous system as much as we please and not find a trace of mind. Or again, the case of morality is analogous to the case of beauty. Just as it is true that objects are beautiful because we admire them, and not that we admire them because they are beauti- ful, so structures are moral because they enter into the moral situation, rather than that the moral situation is moral because its structures are moral. Or still more accurately, just as the fact of human admiration is the beauty of objects, so the fact of human valuation is the morality of structures. We are here anticipating a little the nature of the moral situation, but regardless of whether the moral situation consists of valuation or of some other type of human activity, this much only is essential to the present point — that morality is a function or quality of a situation. In other words, the laws of nature as such are non-moral ; they disclose no preference or progress. To attempt to explain morality in terms of natural laws is not so much a science of ethics as a misconception of it. We can, of course, speak of " the general will " or the " social cataclysm " or the law of equilibration or the impulse of sympathy as moral, but only in the sense in which we speak of moral philosophy, philosophy of or about morals. They may be structures or ideas of or about or relevant to morals, but they are themselves no more moral than is the study of ethics. Consequently, if ethics is to be an inquiry 22 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS into morals, and not merely into ideas about morality, it can not be a structural science, for morality has no structural existence. We may inquire into the phenomena of duty, sympathy, valuation, etc., as nat- ural facts, but this would be a branch of psychology or biology rather than of ethics. We may inquire into the history of certain rules, cus- toms, judgments, etc., which at various times have had moral quality, but this would be a branch of history or sociology, very important for ethics, but not ethics. In short, we may profitably inquire into many types of structures which are relevant to moral activity, but if we study them simply as structures, we can not call this moral science, for moral- ity will in no wise enter into the subject-matter of the inquiry. This is why moral practise is still so unenlightened: ethics has allowed itself to be sidetracked. Instead of employing intelligence and scientific method on clarifying moral problems, on discovering and achieving human goods, moralists have painted ideal worlds, which is a fine art; or they have studied the phenomena of obligation, will, love, approval, disapproval, etc., which is social psychology; or they have sought the origins of institutions and customs, which is history ; or they have worshipped " law and order," which is a type of religion. In the meantime moral practise has been left largely to its own devices. It has been influenced a little by traditional ethics, but much less than it has by many other, supposedly non-moral, sciences. What progress it has made has been largely blind, the result of trial and error, of happy chance and " individual variation." Structural ethics, far from being a moral science, has been either too " pure " to be moral, or too mytho- logical to be scientific, or both — pure mythology. If, then, the search for moral structures is vain, if moral science can not be structural, we naturally ask : what can it be ? How are the structural sciences related to it ? These questions will occupy us in the succeeding chapters. CHAPTER III MORALITY AND SOCIAL PROGRESS The failure to find moral quality in the structure of nature easily leads to the idea that morality is something unnatural, and the denial of moral facts as such is often taken to mean the denial of the fact of morality. Various theories result. One is that morality is entirely independent of nature, that the " is " and the " ought " have nothing in common, and that morality has a supra-natural existence. Another is that morality is an illusion ; or that it is a form of deception by which one social class controls another. Another is that morality is purely " subjective," a matter of taste or of likes and dislikes. Still another sees in morality a noble struggle against nature. Huxley, for example, thinks that just as the struggle for existence is the law of nature, so the struggle with nature is the law of morality. None of these inferences are, however, justified ; certainly they are not demanded by the fact of nature's moral indifference. What is de- manded is simply that morality be sought not as itself a kind of moral structure, but as a natural function or quality of activity. Our problem then becomes that of describing that quality of activity which we call moral. Primitive or instinctive activity being blind is generally agreed to be without moral quality. Wherever impulse meets immediate satisfac- tion, there are no goods and evils, no desires nor deliberations ; there is merely the uninterrupted, unmeaning flux. But where impulse is thwarted, and satisfaction is delayed ; where the instinctive mechanism is unsuccessful, there desire and deliberation find their place, selections are made and ends foreseen ; goods and evils come to be distinguished. The deliberative mechanism achieves a control for which the instinctive mechanism is inadequate. Deliberation is essentially a method of con- trol, a utilization of nature's possibilities. And it is this process of control in which goods are discovered and to which they are relevant. There is scarcely any need of attempting to justify these psychological principles here. My object is rather, with these principles as starting points, to point out some of their moral implications. They imply, in the first place, that human goods are relevant to man's attempt to control his environment. Just in so far as objects 24 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS enter into this process of control do they possess value. Man has, how- ever, at all times been engaged in objectifying this quality beyond this process. He has selected various objects which happen to be highly valued at the time, and endowed them with goodness per se. The previous chapter was a discussion of one phase of this objectification. The conflicting character of these selections is the best evidence against these " eternal values." Objects become goods when they are instru- mental in securing control, and evils when they are detrimental. Na- ture's serviceableness measures her worth. In order to substantiate this it is necessary to analyze more care- fully the process of control. Perhaps what is meant is better suggested by the word, progress; for progress is the growth of human control over nature. Here we are met at the start with the idea that nature herself makes progress, that the laws of evolution are the laws of progress, as Spencer put it. If progress is a characteristic of nature, it can not, of course, be defined as the process of man's increasing con- trol. This idea has already been criticized above. We need merely repeat here that the processes of nature or the laws of evolution assume the character of progress only as they are judged by man with reference to his own purposes and ideals. Nature as such is entirely indifferent ; but when man, with conscious desires and purposes, judges the processes of nature he may find them favorable. Progress is there- fore something which man makes; 1 it is a human art, one might say, the human art. We can distinguish in general three attitudes which men take towards progress and human control, and they represent in a rough way the growth of man's control over nature. The first is the attitude of optimistic resignation. Man is impotent in the face of nature, but nature is not indifferent towards man. There is a beneficent provi- dence working in nature, and wisdom consists in giving it free sway. " God's in his heaven ; all's right with the world." True, primitive man believes he can exercise some influence over the forces of nature by appeasing them when angry or praising them when gracious ; but even in so doing he willingly acknowledges their supremacy and bows to their decrees. Obedience and humility are the prime virtues for this conception ; for the sooner man surrenders to providence the speedier will be his salvation. This religious attitude received its greatest rationalization in the laisses faire philosophy of evolution. We quote Spencer : " To think we can better ourselves by deserting the road marked out for us is an 1 V. Woodbridge: The Purpose of History, pp. 74-80. SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 25 impious assumption of more than divine omniscience. . . . The high- est wisdom is in perfect and fearless submission." 2 This I would call the attitude of religious optimism. A second attitude is that of contempt and escape to ideal satisfac- tions, starting with pessimism and ending in transcendentalism. Na- ture is admitted to be in a bad way. There is no sure way of getting rid of its evils. It can not cure itself, and who is man, to undertake such a task ? It is best to bear the evils of this life, which are after all but short and fleeting, and live in the hope of an ideal world. " I'm but a pilgrim here ; heav'n is my home." The philosophical rationaliza- tion of this attitude is found in transcendentalism. A few quotations from Kant might serve to illustrate. Kant has a good deal more of the human vein in him than we are usually led to Ipelieve. He admits, for example, that " the greatest problem for the race, and one which nature forces him to solve, is the attainment of a civil society whose rights shall extend to all mankind." " But," he continues, " this task is the most difficult of all; and moreover, its complete solution is impossible. Out of a log so crooked as man, nothing straight can ever be made." 3 However, the intelligent progress of the human species is possible, and, judging from past experience, even probable, but it can not be pre- dicted a priori. 4. And so Kant turns his attention to the realm which can be predicted a priori, and the transcendental ethics is the result. Here in the transcendental realm of freedom Kant is untroubled by physical obstacles and by the natural " brutishness " of man, for dis- daining these, he can develop a priori a morality of the pure practical reason, which, if men were free and purely rational beings, would have to be their morality. Thus he escapes the difficulties of the "greatest problem of the human race " not by overcoming them, but by circum- venting and transcending them. The third attitude is that of assuming responsibility for progress and of setting to work rationally to control nature. This is the spirit and function of modern science. Its classic expression is found in Con- dorcet's great essay. However, to show the human side and scientific spirit of Kant, which leaks out whenever he descends from his chair of philosophy, we quote the following : 5 " Man must and can be the creator of his own fortune ; but whether he will be, can not be predicted a priori from those native endowments, with which we know him to be 2 Spencer: Social Statics, p. 65. 3 Kant: Idee zu einer allgemeinen Geschichte in vieltbuergerlicher Abskht, Werke, Vol. 8, p. 22. * Anthropologic, II, E, III, C. ■ Ibid. 26 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS endowed, but only from experience and history, which furnish us with sufficient evidence to justify our hope in his continued progress towards the better. So that we need not despair, but can hasten the approach to this goal (each according to his ability), by whatever prudence and moral foresight we possess." Here man assumes his responsibility. He faces the facts of nature as they are; he sees the possible goods which nature offers ; he realizes his limitations ; but he sets about intelli- gently to control the situation. These are three fundamental human attitudes. They mark in out- line the evolution of human control ; not that one has supplanted the other, for they are all extant, but they represent the historical conditions under which man has gradually increased his control. The attitude of resignation represents man in his actual primitive helplessness in the face of nature. His tools were of very limited power and his intellec- tual resources still more so. The goods upon which he stumbled in hit or miss fashion seemed naturally enough the gifts of the gods, rather than his own discoveries. To obey the gods and to make them well-disposed was hence of prime importance. Then as man's powers and control increased he took courage and assumed a more aggressive attitude. But his imagination easily outran his physical progress. It is one thing to set a goal, and another to reach it. And so, when physical obstacles are overpowering, it is nat- ural to seek comfort in an imaginative ideal. Man, failing in his pur- pose actually, finds satisfaction in achieving it ideally. Its very distance then lends enchantment ; and enchanted by it man forgets the arduous- ness of his task. The ideal becomes the real, and the strife and tur- moil of the world become petty and insignificant. Idealism thus repre- sents an intermediate stage in the history of man's control, a mirage, a dream that must end with the awakening. This awakening has been made possible by the modern scientific discoveries, which have increased man's power and control a thousand- fold. The power of science no longer needs defense or illustration. It is the actual achievements of science which have made us realize that at last we have a tool of progress ; the fact that we are daily extending our control and that we actually know something of how to go about it, has made us willing to acknowledge our responsibility for the com- pletion of the task. On the other hand, the other two conceptions of progress have not been without their value. They tend to counterbalance each other. The first warns us of our present limitations, the second directs our attention to future goods. The first reminds us that progress can only SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 27 be achieved within the limits of natural law; the second bids us look beyond our narrow present into future possibilities. Thus, when these two conceptions cease to be dogmas and prejudices, they put the prob- lems which are fundamental to a scientific progress, namely : ( i ) What are the limits within which we must proceed ? What are the impossi- bilities? (2) In what directions can we proceed effectively? What are the possibilities? These questions will engage us in the following chapters; but now we must return to the relation between progress and morality. We said above that deliberation is essentially a process of control, being simply the attempt to find by reflection an effective way out of a practical difficulty. And, taking this on a larger scale, we found that science performs this same function with reference to human progress, i. e., science is the method of deliberate human control over nature, which we call progress. We have also seen that goods are relevant to this process of deliberate control; or in other words, that objects are good in so far as they function successfully in this process. We may conclude, therefore, that the problem of progress is the problem of discovering goods or values. Now in so far as the search for goods is the moral problem, in so far we may call all progress and all delibera- tion moral, and morality may be defined as activity viewed from the standpoint of control or progress. And there is really no metaphysical reason against such a definition. There is no reason why one good should be termed moral and another non-moral. Any distinction which we may make within goods must be a relative distinction, and more or less arbitrary. But as a matter of fact, we do distinguish, and it might be using undue violence to stretch the word to cover all deliberation or all progress. When we deliberate what to order for dinner, for ex- ample, we usually attach no moral quality to our deliberation. And in general, economic valuations are distinguished from moral, although there is abundant psychological evidence to show that valuation or deliberation as such is of the same sort in both cases. And similarly in many other cases, we distinguish between moral and non-moral goods and valuations, not because there is any fundamental structural differ- ence in the situation, but for more or less accidental reasons. The most general, and historically the most significant of these rea- sons is that morality has to do fundamentally with duty, or what is right and wrong, or with social obligation. The very word, morality {mores), enforces this idea. 6 It is with the right or socially approved 6 So, for example, Levy-Bruhl's " science des mceurs " is easily translated into " moral science." 28 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS that morality has to do primarily. And historically it has, of course, been true that the moral had to do primarily with what it was right or a man's duty to do. The problem of the good has generally been sub- ordinated to the problem of the right. In fact, until comparatively recently the two were scarcely separated. Duty and good were sup- posed to coincide, or if they conflicted, good must give way to duty. But since the growth of reflective morality, the two problems have be- come increasingly distinct. And the present need is that the problem of the right be subordinated to the problem of the good. The reason for this will perhaps best appear from a brief considera- tion of the ethics of duty, social obligation, or right. In primitive society duty is a simple and homogeneous matter. Everybody knows what his duty is and that he must do it. But as society becomes more tolerant the authority of duty weakens, and individual variation and valuation become themselves socially approved (within limits). Now as the sanction of duty weakens, it is but a case of following the line of least resistance, that ethical theory seeks to bolster up the authority of duty, and thus to retain the simplicity and practical certainty of unre- flective morality. And even when duty retains merely the formal char- acter of Kant's categorical imperative, the effort to make morality simple, even for the commonest man, remains a fundamental motive, as comes out clearly from the following passage : 7 "The commonest intelligence can easily and without hesitation see what, on the principle of the autonomy of the will, requires to be done; but on the principle of the heteronomy of the will, it is hard and requires knowledge of the world to see what is to be done. That is to say, what duty is, is plain of itself to everyone; but what is to bring true durable advan- tage, such as will extend to the whole of one's existence, is always veiled in impenetrable obscurity; and much prudence is required to adapt the practical rule founded on it to the ends of life, even tolerably, by making proper exceptions. But the moral law commands the most punctual obedi- ence from everyone; it must, therefore, not be so difficult to judge what it requires to be done, that the commonest unpractised understanding, even without worldly prudence, should fail to apply it rightly." Kant is here face to face with the problem of making a man moral without making him intelligent. And this is indeed a problem ; to make a fool moral is not so easy. On the other hand, what is the use of a morality to which only wise men can attain? Surrounded, as Kant was, by poor, illiterate, unintelligent folk, with no hope of ever be- coming otherwise, it would seem rather vain and ironical to say : you can never be moral. 'Kant: Theory of Ethics (Abbott), p. 126. SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 20. But disregarding for the moment the relation between intelligence and morals, and confining ourselves merely to the ethics of duty, Kant's statement that it is a simple matter to know what to do on the principle of duty, probably accurately represents the actual conditions of his time. Men's duties were then still fairly homogeneous and ready made by the feudal system, and to do one's duty had a perfectly definite and con- crete meaning. But to-day the opposite is the case. The social and industrial revolutions of the nineteenth century, the overthrow of the feudal regime, the discoveries of science, left the old duties more or less meaningless and irrelevant. The concept of duty then became formal indeed, and the content was filled in ad libitum, as German history itself shows. 8 To-day nothing is more evident than the conflict of duties. It is no longer true that the " commonest, unpractised under- standing, even without worldly prudence " can " apply the moral law rightly." Modern life has become so complex, social relations so in- volved, that duties not only are greatly multiplied, but they actually and inevitably conflict. So that to-day our significant moral problems have shifted completely from the pedagogical problems of making men duti- ful, to the scientific problem of finding a way out of the conflict of duties. We might raise the theoretical question whether absolutely simple and uncontested duty can be intelligently called moral, or even whether uncontested duty is possible. Evidence seems to show that duty and moral distinctions in general are not only the products of conflicting social relations, but that they lose their moral quality as soon as they cease to be contested, and then become merely habits or customs, uni- form ways of acting. Our customs, for example, assume moral quality only in relation to children and " abnormals " in whom these customs are not established. But aside from this point, it needs no elaborate proof to show the radical shift in our moral problems, which has resulted from the revo- lutions of the nineteenth century. Our problems have shifted from the narrowly pedagogical, which start from a fixed code, to the scientific, which seek to discover actual human goods. For once given a conflict of duties as we have it to-day, it is idle to try to solve our moral prob- lems by an appeal to duty or right, since it is precisely within the facts of duty and right that these problems originate. The problem of duty has therefore lost most of its moral significance, except in a negative way, and our moral life to-day centers about other problems, namely, the problems of discovering the actual goods of man. 8 V. Dewey: German Philosophy and Politics. 30, SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS To sum up the argument: As long as morality is custom morality, the problem of right or duty is the primary problem; but when moral- ity becomes reflective, its problem becomes that of the good ; for only by a scientific knowledge of goods can social approvals, duties and rights, become rational. The phenomena of social approval, duty, rights, obligations, etc., are psychological structures, and represent an instinctive, unreflective, primitive morality. They are the psychological instruments by which the group customs, group approvals assert them- selves over individual variations. They make possible " moral educa- tion," that is, the process by which immature, or otherwise variant members of society acquire the habits of the group. This is what is meant by calling this the pedagogical side of morals. A science of duty is therefore nothing more than a branch of social psychology, and is relevant to moral science only in so far as these psychological struc- tures enter into moral activity. From these considerations, then, it follows that the factors of social obligation, duty and right afford us no method of distinguishing goods into moral and non-moral, for they not only are distinct and separate from goods, but they are of themselves and intrinsically not moral but simply psychological phenomena. On the other hand, they are so intimately related to moral conduct, that to say that moral science has nothing to do with them, would be absurd. What is necessary is that we distinguish sharply between^ these two problems, that of the good and bad, and that of the right and wrong. The problem of the right and wrong is essentially a problem of social psychology, as we have seen. And if we mean by morality simply the fact of social obligation, moral science is either simply a science des mtrurs, or it is a critique or evaluation of the mores and duties. In the latter case it must pass beyond the sphere of " right and wrong " and take up the standpoint of the good and bad. So that, if we re- main within the realm of duty, ethics must be a theoretical science, which might be called theoretical ethics, but which is really social psy- chology in its moral bearings. If, on the other hand, moral science is to be an evaluating science, it must go beyond the realm of duty and the social sanction, and take up the problem of human goods and control and progress. In other words, the problem of duty on its moral side throws us back upon the problem of good as the ultimate moral prob- lem for moral science. But in another way the traditional association of morality with the social sanction is of some help in making the practical distinction be- tween goods in general and moral goods, for it attaches particular moral quality to those goods which have general social bearings. We SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 31 might formulate it thus : the greater the social scope of a good becomes, the more moral it is. A large number of deliberations or valuations are of little social consequence. Whether I shall wear a green or blue tie, whether I had better take the subway or the surface car, whether Berg- son or Russell would make a better topic for a club discussion, are all objects of deliberation, and if wise decisions are reached, they indicate some progress. But it would be stretching the matter too far to call them moral deliberations, for their social significance is too limited. But as men engage more and more in common enterprises, have com- mon purposes and ends, as deliberations take on social scope and im- portance, as valuation becomes socialized, they become increasingly moral. It would be difficult to find activity without any social conse- quences, for our activity is inherently social. Man is a " social animal," and his actions, deliberations and choices take place in a social medium. But their social significances vary widely. In general, the more homo- geneous a society is, and the more solidarity it has, the more moralized does activity become. In primitive society, where social uniformity is completest, practically everything a man does has moral significance, not merely because any individual variation is frowned upon, but be- cause all activity is so completely socialized. The clan or tribe acts as a unit, and is collectively responsible for its actions. Hence in primi- tive, society all activity has moral quality. And similarly in modern society engaged in war, when social unity and solidarity are as essential as they are in primitive society, actions acquire " moral " quality which in times of peace would be morally "neutral." The "two lumps of sugar," for instance, have moral status only in war time, because only then are they of vital social significance. The same is true in modern society under normal conditions in the measure in which values and valuations become social in character and in consequences, in that meas- ure have they moral quality. So the problems of poverty, public health, social legislation, war, etc., are eminently moral problems, for they are of the widest social significance. They are problems which arise within a high degree of integration of purpose and organization of activity. In general, then, we may say that the moral quality of a good varies with the scope of the valuation in which it arises. When a valuation takes place within very narrow limits it has little moral quality, and as the scope of the value situation is increased, values become increasingly moral. Thus we have a means of making the relative, practical distinc- tion between good in general and moral good, between progress in gen- eral and moral progress. We can now return to our original thesis, that morality is activity 32 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS viewed from the standpoint of control or progress, and maintain that science, in so far as it increases our control, i. e., in its practical or applied aspect, is moral science. And there is some justification for the use of "moral science" in this sense. But, as was pointed out, we can distinguish between practical or evaluative science in general and moral science by confining moral science to social valuations. Moral science would then be the science of social progress. Now it may seem a waste of effort to make this attempt to identify moral science with a scientific control of social progress. It should seem sufficient to show the need and possibilities of a scientific social progress, without trying to link it up with moral or any other science. And this would be true, were it not for two facts : ( i ) that all sciences, including scientific ethics, take their turn at denying responsibility for meeting this need, and so the inference is made, that it is beyond the pale of science and not amenable to scientific method. The problem of social progress is said to be a problem for art, for statesmanship, for political prudence, etc., and these arts are not supposed to be in any sense scientific arts. (2) Ethics has usually claimed to be a "norma- tive " science, a " guide to action," the supreme practical science, etc., but it has never been willing or patient enough to wrestle with this problem scientifically. And now the ethics that is genuinely scientific is historical and psychological and denies, along with the other theoret- ical sciences, any " normative " obligation. So the net result is that the interest of scientists is diverted from our practical moral and social problems, and our social practise is consequently left unenlightened. For these reasons, and also in view of the fact that the problem of social progress is being recognized more and more as a, if not the, moral problem, it is suggested here, that in the scientific inquiry into this problem lies the opportunity for moral science to come into its own. CHAPTER IV SOCIAL SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS We come now to a more detailed consideration of the method in which a scientific social progress proceeds. In this chapter we have to consider the relation between social progress and social science ; or in other words, we have to ask : what is the function of social science in the process of social control? Perhaps the discussion of this problem will gain by making the distinction between physical control and phys- ical science on the one hand, and social control and social science on the other. This is, however, a treacherous distinction, and it must be borne in mind that social science is just as much a natural science as any other, and that social control can not be separated from physical control absolutely. But since the progress of the " physical sciences " has so far outrun our social progress, and since we can exercise a con- trol over certain mechanical forces and natural processes to a far greater extent than we can over others, namely, the mechanisms and forces which operate in society, we can profitably make this practical distinction between these two phases or branches of the process of human control. And since we recognize that they constitute but phases of this general process, we can reasonably expect that the course which this more prosperous branch has pursued may throw some light on the course of the more backward social branch. Furthermore, it must be borne in mind that we are now dealing with social science as a struc- tural science. There is no essential difference between social science and physical science, except a difference of field of interest ; the object of both is to discover natural structures, or laws. And consequently the function of each in the process of control is the same. So, bearing in mind that we are making a relative distinction among structural sci- ences, we may proceed to trace in outline the relations between struc- tural science and human control, both physical and social, indicating the various types of progress which are to be found. First we might mention the negation of human progress, the idea that man is controlled by nature and not a controller of nature, a child of fate and not an artificer. It is a fatalism either pessimistic or optimistic, depending upon whether fate is conceived of as a beneficent providence or as a blind necessity. In the matter of social progress 34 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS fatalism represents an idea or theory rather than a practical attitude. As a practical attitude or approach to a problem it is evidently worth- less. 1 As an idea it represents " laissez faire," and is a theory by which certain social activities and practical programs have been justi- fied. It has been useful in freeing social practise from artificial hamp- ering bonds and tyranny. In a time when personal liberty was op- pressed and the " fundamental human rights " violated, the theory that social regulation merely retards progress by interfering with nature served to justify the practical attitude of reform and progress. Even the ideas of a golden age or " the good old times " or the " return to nature " represent on their practical side not an aloofness or quietism, but a desire to change existing social conditions so as to make them more conformable to an ideal, an ideal located in the past. The very denial of the efficacy of human control, thus turns out to be on its practical side a device intended for increasing human control. But now to turn to the more positive methods of human control. The most primitive and primary is that of trial and error. In the matter of physical control it is represented by the methods of the primitive medicine man. Having no insight into the nature of his prob- lem and no knowledge of the structure of the world, he tries anything and everything imaginable. This is perhaps not strictly true, for even the medicine man is guided by certain hypotheses and prejudices, which lead him to favor certain activities rather than others, to which he clings despite their actual efficacy or inefficacy. But on the whole this trial and error is largely uncontrolled, and has little intellectual signifi- cance. Experience, successes and rebuffs, gain little meaning. It is not experimentation, but fumbling. The medicine man tries to bring rain or dispel disease by the beating of sticks and the wearing of amulets, by sacrifices and incantations, by music and magic. The medi- cine man is still with us ; but the miracles of his magic are now far overshadowed by the wonders of science. Nevertheless it is surprising to what an extent we still follow the methods of the medicine man in matters of social control. Our social rules and regulations, our customs and standards are largely the prod- uct of chance and fumbling. Many of them are merely hit or miss solutions for social emergencies. And what is more, many of them are merely survivals whose original value has been lost. 2 Our social con- 1 That is to say, that when a man is face to face with a problem, he rarely says: " I have to do what I shall do; hence, why worry about what I shall do? " For, if he were consistent, he would have to continue and say: " If I worry about what to do, it is because I have to worry; hence, why worry about whether to worry or not?" etc. In fact, fatalism as a prac- tical attitude is self -contradictory; it is simply the negation of practise. 2 V. Gustav Ratzenhofer: Positiv Ethik, p. 24. SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 35 trol is still extremely "empirical," without reflective control. Our social policies are not controlled experiments, but usually represent the easiest way of getting out of a particular difficulty; and hanging on as they do after their short-lived usefulness is past, they cause more difficulties than they solved. So also our legislation, and to a still greater extent our moral judgments and standards are the products of unintelligent procedure. The deliberations of our law makers and our courts are still far from scientific. The decisions of our courts are based to a large extent on precedent ; and the discussions of legislators usually center around precedents, party doctrines, " rights," or around petty details, rather than around an inquiry into the various factors which demand regulation, the possibilities and means of satisfying these demands and the probable consequences of the action to be taken. There is little genuine experimentation ; most of it is hit or miss, trial and error procedure. The control exercised by public opinion is still less enlightened. It is usually based on impulsive judgments and pop- ular prejudices. Consequently our social control is still about as limited as the physical control of the medicine man. Our efforts some- times prove effective, by the law of chance, but more often they are in- effective, because blind. Progress by such methods is exceedingly slow. Just as animal learning by the trial and error method is very restricted, compared with the knowledge gained by scientific experi- mentation, so trial and error progress is very restricted compared with the progress based on science. The- cause for the ineffectiveness of the trial and error method is quite evident. It is due to its ignorance of its limitations, of impossibilities. The medicine man who beats sticks to bring rain might turn his activity into more fruitful channels, if he knew the actual relations or lack of relations between rain and the beating of sticks. Similarly the philanthropist who tries to stop the war by preaching might spare himself much trouble, if he knew the relations between preaching and war and human nature. As long as social problems are attacked in an uncontrolled, hit or miss fashion, social progress will be slow, sporadic and accidental. A second method is the method of idealism. An ideal is conceived imaginatively, and by it existences are approved or condemned. The historical setting of idealism as a method of progress has already been discussed. It represents an ideal satisfaction in the face of real ob- stacles ; an imaginative substitute for physical control. In one sense an ideal is a perfectly natural and necessary factor in rational progress. An ideal, if taken as an idea, an end-in-view, a -working hypothesis, or working standard, is essential to all purposive 36 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS activity, and to scientific method itself. But the moral ideal is usually conceived quite differently. It is supposed to be an absolute, rational deduction, a final standard of perfection and excellence. And the moral problem is the problem of transforming this irrational, evil world as it is, into this perfect world, which it ought to be; it is the problem of " bringing in the Kingdom," of producing a transformation. Such ideals are not fit instruments of progress ; and for several reasons. In the first place, ideals are neither absolute nor rational. The idea that man can frame a perfect social ideal based on the principles of pure reason, and necessarily acceptible to every rational being, arises chiefly out of a false conception of human reason. Moral ideals are largely rationalizations, that is, attempts to put into rational and con- sistent form a morality which has arisen non-rationally. A glance at the great moral ideals would show this to be the case. Plato's Republic, Aristotle's Ethics and Politics, Augustine's City of God, Spinoza's Ethics, Bacon's New Atlantis, etc., down to Bertrand Russell's "The World as It Could Be Made " — what are they, but the masterpieces of artists, the fruits of fertile imaginations? They are no more final or absolute than is a painter's masterpiece. He would be a presumptuous artist who could claim to have produced the final work of art, the last thing in the way of beauty. And yet that is what moral artists would have us believe they have accomplished. The mere fact that we keep on painting new ideals should furnish a sufficient empirical refutation of this claim. But an examination of the nature of these ideals or of any possible ideal would be no less conclusive in refuting their claim to finality. For they all have a social setting ; they begin with certain undisputed principles, axioms, which represent not rational forms or laws of thought, but general moral ideas (usually called intuitions), which are largely taken for granted at a given time and which are not thought worth while criticizing. These axioms are in no sense ra- tional; they are merely the social limits within which the particular discussion or rationalization takes place. And therefore, as these social limits or settings change in the course of history, the ideals built upon them must change. So, even granted that the superstructure reared on these axioms is logically constructed and rational in so far, a final ideal would be impossible, unless it were founded on absolute social limits. Such absolute social limits can be nothing short of natural structures, and in our present state of ignorance regarding the natural structures underlying social practise, it is folly to presume to know them. And our efforts should rather be spent in discovering these structures than in framing supposedly absolute rational ideals and ends. SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 37 In the second place, ideals are not fit instruments of progress, be- cause they invariably outlive their original setting and purpose, and are imposed extraneously upon other situations to which they are not germane. Being conceived of as absolute and final, they live after their practical justification has passed away. And then they are viewed as external standards by which a situation can be judged, and as final measures of value. Thus ideals tend toward a religious, "post- rational morality," as Santayana calls it, instead of being instruments of moral progress. Idealism as a method has been generally discarded in physical sci- ence. Alchemy might be regarded as an example of the idealistic method in physical science. By setting up the fixed goal of the trans- mutation of the baser metals as the goal of chemistry, the science soon became sterile. Similar illustrations might be found in the history of physics, medicine, and the other sciences. An idea, when it has ceased to be simply a working hypothesis, and becomes a mold into which facts are forced, serves to dogmatize science and to hinder its progress. But in social control we still cling to the ideal as a necessary factor in progress. It is often said that without some such ultimate ideal we have no measure or criterion of progress. Some such idea as the greatest happiness principle, or social adaptation, or the socialistic state, or democracy is taken as an ultimate standard in accordance with which progress must proceed. But these ideas then cease to be hypotheses for testing, and become principles for measuring the truth of other ideas. And this means social fossilization rather than social progress. A third reason why idealism is not a fit method of progress is that these ideal pictures are painted without taking into account the actual possibilities of the situation. Aristotle's perfect life or Bertrand Rus- sell's ideal society may please us, may stimulate our, imagination and our desires, but they have little practical significance otherwise. They all begin with a big IF. If men were purely rational beings, if men acted solely from rational self-love, if governments loved peace and justice, if social classes were abolished, then this or the other would be a description of the perfect life. It is all in the contrary-to-fact form. It is this indifference to the actual which robs these ideals of their significance for social practise. Social practise is immediately concerned with a multitude of hard, unpleasant facts and problems; and hence, any ideal which ignores these and takes refuge in other worlds, whence these disturbing factors are banished, can have little social directive force. The best it can do is to make men forget their 38 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS practical troubles by raising a new set of speculative problems. These speculations then assume an independent interest. Men criticise them, pick out flaws, inconsistencies and unideal elements. Having disproved to their satisfaction the ideality of existing ideals, men frame new ones, which are in turn overthrown by others. And so a whole new field of interest, a fascinating fine art, centers about the painting of ideals. In the meantime, social practise, which must needs confine itself to the real world, is left behind groping its way in the dark. If physical scientists were to use this method, what sort of progress could we expect? If scientists, vexed over the irrationalities of nature, were to construct ideal worlds in which matter behaved more to their tastes, our control over nature as it is would be little enhanced. Human art has its limits ; ours is not the task of creating new worlds to live in, it is the task of making the best of the world as we find it. Similarly in social nature, we are not at liberty to construct a human nature which would suit us better ; we can merely reconstruct society on the basis of the human nature which is. We can not build a new house according to plans which may please us ; we can only remodel the house in which we live. Nature imposes limits upon us, and to disregard them is not progress but folly. This leads us to the first principle of a scientific social progress: Progress can only proceed within the limits of natural law. So the first problem of social progress is to discover its structural limits ; and this is the function of structural social science. Let us return to our analogy with physical science and the growth of physical control. There was a time when physical science was essentially an attempt to make consistent and unify dialectically the empirical observations of naive experience. In this it resembles a good deal of modern " social science." A multitude of manifold experiences constitutes the stuff of common sense; and science is the attempt to discover some sort of order and unity in the confusion of purely em- pirical experience. The ancients achieved this unity and order dialect- ically ; and hence their control over nature was dialectical. In rigorous thinking and systematic reflection the ancients are still unsurpassed. But modern science has attempted to discover order in nature not dialectically but experimentally. It has sought relations in nature, rather than in discourse ; or better, it has sought natural relations and laws other than those of logic. The discovery of these laws has been accomplished largely by the method of controlled observation and ex- perimentation. To what a revolutionary extent the discovery of these physical laws has enhanced human control is a commonplace of experi- SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 39 ence to-day. Bacon's "knowledge is power" is to-day empirically verified. But how different is the case in social progress and social science. Social science is still in its infancy, and smacks more of social dia- lectics than of "social physics." Our lack of social control, conse- quently, is only too horribly evident. Various suggestions have been made to account for the great gap existing between our present physical, and our social control of nature. Comte suggested that it was due to the fact that sociology, being the most complex and "highest" of the sciences, could only be under- taken after the others (especially biology) had well established them- selves. He pointed out how attempts at social science had failed (especially those of Montesquieu and Condorcet) because they were made without the necessary knowledge of physical and biological laws, which science has since discovered. Levy-Bruhl has suggested that it is due to the fact that social and moral problems are too intimately bound up with practical interests, desires, feelings, beliefs and hopes to be de-subjectified. Science demands objective subject-matter; facts must be regarded from the outside, impartially, without prejudice, if they are to be studied scientifically. " So long as they are mani- fested subjectively in consciousness under the form of duties, remorse, feelings Of blame and praise, etc., they possess an entirely different character. They seem to relate exclusively to action and to depend solely on principles of practise.' 13 Hence the hesitancy with which they are subjected to scientific inquiry. Still other factors might be mentioned: the rigid feudal regime, which precluded any democratic political ideas by frowning upon them as treason; and the religious sanction which attached itself to most social customs and moral acts, and regarded any departure as impiety or heresy. All these factors, and still others, have entered in to delay the development of social science. But without discussing further the reasons for this delay, we may start with the fact that social science is in its infancy ; and instead of deprecating its impotence, we shall do better to emphasize its posi- tive beginnings. One of the most fundamental developments of social science has been the employment of scientific method in historical research. For historical science is very fundamental to all social science. Just as mathematics is at the basis of physical science, so history is at the basis of social science. So long as social science was dialectical it could dis- pense fairly well with historical science; but a social physics, which 8 Levy-Bruhl : Ethics and Moral Science, p. 6. 40 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS seeks to discover natural laws must have at its disposal a historical technique; for these laws are not mathematical but temporal or his- torical. During the nineteenth and twentieth centuries a historical technique has been developing which is not merely a telling of tales, but a genuine scientific inquiry. 4 A second positive beginning in social science has been made by psychology. That psychology has now developed a scientific technique, especially in experimental and animal psychology, can no longer be in- telligibly disputed. But the case is not so clear for what passes as " social psychology." Even folk psychology, for example, though quite " objective," is still too much under the influence of nationalism and of the speculative inheritances from " social philosophy." It also shares with social psychology in general the attempt to carry over the distinc- tions and concepts of individual psychology by analogy to social exist- ences and social organizations ; that is, the mechanisms of the human (or animal) organism are made analogous to the social mechanisms, by which our social life is controlled. Only in a few cases, as in the psychology of language, has there been a scientific inquiry into genu- inely social mechanisms. We are still largely ignorant of the precise mechanisms which control such social phenomena as " fashions," cus- toms, tradition, obligation,* religion, government, marriage, etc. One very important phase of social behavior, however, has become the subject-matter of a separate science, namely, economics, though it is really just as much social psychology as other aspects of social be- havior mentioned above. But as a separate science, it has gained a greater freedom from the antiquated methods and the " metaphysical " interests which hover around psychology. For the dominant motive in the science of economics seems to have been the practical motive of control, which can hardly be said of psychology. 5 However, even in economics, the original interest in control is frequently lost in the attempt to sanction existing social institutions, by pretending that they are based on " economic principles " or psychological structures. Then too, economics still suffers from an antiquated hedonistic psychology, which has clung to it, and in terms of which many of its discoveries are formulated. But empirical investigation and scientific method are rapidly transplanting the earlier rationalistic and hedonistic theories. 6 The science of sociology is in a similar transitional state. It was * V. Ch. V. Langlois & Ch. Seignobos: Introduction to the Study of History, English translation, Bk. II, Ch. V, and Bk. Ill, Ch. V, especially pp. 316-319. 5 It is interesting to note that one of the chief factors in revolutionizing psychological methods has been the introduction of the motive of control by educational and pathological psychology. 8 V. Schmoller: Grundfragen der Socialpolitik, p. 336. SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 41 furnished at the outset by its founders, Comte and Spencer, with a number of brilliant generalizations and speculative principles ; and ever since, it has been so absorbed in bolstering up these theories and trying to fit the facts into them, that it has not made much progress in actual scientific method. Comte, however, was unlike Spencer in that he was more concerned in developing a scientific study of social phenomena than in constructing a social philosophy or " organized system of thought." His emphasis on the need of discovering, by careful ob- servation and scientific methods, the laws of social phenomena, or " social physics " as he called it, has begun to bear fruit in the soci- ologie positive of France and Germany. And though this sociologie is more positivistic than scientific, it has succeeded in making genuine scientific discoveries. In this country and England, where the influ- ence of Spencer has predominated over that of Comte, sociology is still too much controlled by philosophical prejudices and hasty generaliza- tions. It is still true, though to a less extent, what a leading sociologist wrote in 1896, "that much sociology is as yet nothing more than care- ful and suggestive guess work ; that some of it is deductive ; and that a little of it, enough to encourage us to continue our researches, is verified knowledge." 7 But sociology in particular and social science in general suffer from an illusion which has made it a menace, rather than a tool for social progress. It has proceeded on the assumption that the distinction be- tween the physical and social sciences was based on the distinction between physical and social laws or structures. The distinction is, however, as was above pointed out, a practical and historical, not a scientific distinction. Strictly speaking all structures are physical ; and if we define sciences in terms of their subject-matter, all structural sciences are physical, just as they are all " natural." The term biolog- ical, anthropological, psychological and sociological can not be set over against the physical; they mark distinctions within the realm of the physical. And yet, current sociological terminology, especially that of the positivistic school, employs constantly a distinction between " phys- ical nature" and "social nature," physical laws and social laws, etc. The fait social or fait moral* of the positivists was supposed to be a peculiar kind of fact — a fact not of physical nature, but of "social nature," which wa's something quite different and independent. This distinction can be justified only historically, not metaphysically. It arose in a time when the conceptions of the reign of law, " natural 7 F. Giddings: Principles of Sociology, Preface to 3d edit., p. xvii. 8 V. above, p. 19. 42 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS harmony," etc., were dominant, and were regarded as characteristic of "physical nature;" and the contrast between natural harmony and social strife led men to apply the concepts of physical nature to human art. But as a matter of fact, the structures upon which social art de- pends are not therefore necessarily social structures, except in the sense that they are those physical structures most closely concerning social art. They are in and of themselves no more social than they are moral. That is why we called the distinction between physical and social science treacherous, and in employing it we must always bear in mind that it is merely an historical, not a scientific distinction. 9 The science of anthropology is making increasing contributions to social science. It owes its success largely to the adoption of the evolu- tionary method; in fact, it was this method which constituted it a sci- ence. However, the enthusiasm which the theory of evolution created led to extravagances of all sorts ; unwarranted generalizations, careless observation, a gullibility for traveller's tales, misinterpretations of data, etc. But gradually a scientific technique has been developed: careful statistical methods, sifting of evidence and sources, systematic observation, etc. So that a great deal of our knowledge of the facts of social life, especially of primitive social life, is the result of the inves- tigations of anthropologists. An outline of structural social science should at least mention the inquiries of philology, ethnology, social statistics, and kindred sci- ences. The foregoing has not been an attempt at a critique of social science and its methods ; it has been an attempt merely to point out, in a general way, that social science is passing through a transitional stage and is becoming genuinely scientific and experimental. It is ceasing to be primarily social dialectics and is becoming increasingly a social physics. 10 And from the success already achieved, as well as by anal- ogy from the physical sciences, it is reasonable to predict a rapid devel- opment of our knowledge of the natural structures underlying social processes, and an ever increasing discovery of the limits within which our social life moves. But to return to the relation of social science to social progress and control. The point which must again be emphasized is that social sci- ence, in so far as it discovers structures, has only a negative function with reference to social progress. It merely gives us the knowledge of the limits to which all social activity conforms ; it furnishes us with the boundaries within which progress must proceed. Another way to ' V. Dewey: "The New Social Science," The New Republic, April, 1918. 10 V . Ch. A. Beard: " Political Science in the Crucible," The New Republic, Nov, 17, 1917. SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 43 say this is that structural science is a foresight of consequences. Through it we know that, if I do A, then B will happen. But it neither asserts anything about A's being done, nor whether A should or should not be done. Social science, being structural, can never tell us what to do. It is complete and perfected, when it can tell us the consequences of anything we may do. It predicts, but does not prescribe. The analogy with the physical sciences may make it clear. Chemistry, for example, concerns itself only with knowing what will take place when certain chemicals react. If H 2 and O are combined under certain con- ditions, water will result. Similarly, all that social science can ever hope to accomplish is to be able to foretell accurately what will happen, if a given policy is entered upon, or if a certain course of action is fol- lowed, or if food is scarce. It is not an evaluative or normative sci- ence. In other words, structural science discloses the impossibilities of a social situation, rather than its possibilities. The laws of nature are therefore not forces. They do not make for certain ends, nor are they in any sense purposive. They are inert. To " apply " them is not like applying steam to a piston, but like applying the multiplication table to a problem. The multiplication table can never throw any light on how much potatoes should cost or do cost, nor how many square feet there are in a city block. But if we want to find out and make the necessary measurements, the multiplication table will be a very useful instrument. In other words, the foresight of consequences of social activities means an instrument by which human control is made more effective. A tool of itself accomplishes nothing, but when it is put to proper use, it makes action more effective. Of course, if foresight of consequences made no difference; if human control and behavior remained unchanged by a knowledge of its limits, this would not be true. But in this case it would be difficult to imagine what knowledge could mean. The fact that foresight is effective is the fact of knowledge, for that is precisely what knowledge means. And conversely, the fact of structure makes knowledge pos- sible, for if there were no structural order in nature, prediction would not be a tool, but a vanity. Therefore, the discovery of natural structures means the possibility of social control ; and an increasing knowledge of them means increas- ing freedom of social activity. Natural limits, once they become known, cease to be stone walls, against which social art shatters itself, and become gate-ways which give it freedom. Only in a world of law is liberty possible ; and only in a world of science can it be actual. CHAPTER V MORAL SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS We now return from social science to moral science, and its rela- tion to social progress. We have made the distinction between social science as structural or theoretical, and moral science as evaluative or practical. The function of social science with reference to social progress we saw to be that of discovering the limits of moral activity, the impossibilities of a social situation. Its function is therefore nega- tive and hypothetical, but not on that account insignificant ; for it fur- nishes social art with its necessary instruments of control. Now we come to the function of moral science, which is positive, namely, the invention of the possibilities of a moral situation. Moral science is the technique of social progress. It is social deliberation. The relation between social science and moral science is analogous to that between physics and engineering, or between physiology and medicine ; it is the relation between " pure " and " applied " science. But we saw in our first chapter, that this relation is not so simple as the term " applied " might indicate. We saw how the usual formula "the application in practise of the laws discovered by science" really serves to cover up the nature of " applied " science, rather than explain it. We saw the complexity of this " application " in the technique of engineering and medicine ; and we attempted to clarify the meaning of the term "application" in this sense. Now, in the sciences of engi- neering and medicine we recognize the need of an elaborate and effec- tive technique, but in the realm of moral science we still are inclined to imagine that this " application " of social science will take care of itself simply and naturally, even though slowly. And hence few efforts have been made to develop a scientific moral technique. Moral valuation is regarded as a matter of individual tact, prudence, foresight and char- acter, and not as a fit object of scientific research. The survival of this attitude in morals, despite the fact that it has been supplanted in matters of physical health, industry, agriculture, etc., by scientific control, is not by mere chance. It is due partly to the same factors which have retarded the development of social science, which we mentioned in the preceding chapter. But the chief factor is to be found in the absence of democratic social organization. The SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 45 spread of democracy and the development of science are contempora- neous not merely by accident. Science is a democratic, cooperative enterprise; it means cooperative control in a given sphere of inquiry. Imagine, for example, what stimulus there would be for agricultural science in a society whose agricultural methods were fixed either by custom or by an arbitrary power. Suppose one man or a small group of men had the power of saying how the soil was to be cultivated, what implements were permissible, what might and what might not be grown, etc., of what use would a science of agriculture be in that society ? The only possible chance for its existence would be that the dictator might be the agricultural scientist, which would be a psycho- logical impossibility, as well as an historic anomaly. Historically the growth of agricultural science has meant not only fluid conditions and the demand for more efficient methods of cultivation, but also a co- operative attempt at rational control. It has meant also that society was willing to submit its methods of agriculture to experimental con- trol, and just in so far does it indicate a democratic organization of society. 1 The same holds true of medicine, engineering, and the other practical sciences; and the growth of these sciences measures the growth of democratic, as opposed to fixed and arbitrary social organi- zation. Now in matters moral and political this type of organization is com- paratively recent and still very incomplete. With reference to certain social problems there is an attempt at social evaluation by means of legislatures, courts, commissions, boards, etc. And though most of it is still far from scientific, it is at least a matter of cooperative enter- prize rather than of individual judgment. But in the wider sphere of moral problems we have not reached even this stage. In the first place, our moral life is still controlled to a large extent by fixed standards. These standards can hardly be called valuations, since they are for the most part the product of chance, of habit and of instinct. Such are, for example, obedience to authority, loyalty to the group, the right of property, the right of liberty, and a large number of others. They are things which we take for granted, accept unreflec- tively; they are our moral axioms. One of the first tasks of moral science is to inquire into the actual status of these " axioms." Some of them are probably valid principles of control. Some of them are prob- ably survivals from a more primitive morality. Others are philosoph- ical fictions. Still others are accidents of the social environment. The task of moral science is to evaluate them, to test their claim. 1 Taking " democratic " in the wider sense of cooperative vs. arbitrary control. 46 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS In the second place our moral deliberation is still a matter of indi- vidual judgment. Evaluation is a matter which each individual is supposed to make for himself. As a matter of fact, moral judgment is controlled more than we admit by the fixed rules just mentioned. Our consciences are made for us, and our morality is not as reflective as we imagine it to be. But, disregarding this, we find that what we mean by reflective morality is freedom of moral judgment. That is to say, our theory of reflective morality is essentially the theory of the autonomous will. The highest morality is for us the morality of the individual who is not constrained by social pressure, by external neces- sity, by conflicting passions, but who is free to deliberately judge for himself. Such a state of affairs is indeed an improvement upon the morality of custom and external social restraint, for it serves to break its fixity and tyranny. It makes for social fluidity and the possibility of change. But it is essentially negative. It means absence of fixity, freedom from the bonds which prevent progress. In our analogy with the agricultural art, it would mean a state in which each farmer used his own judgment about how to farm. If he were intelligent, he would probably be able to improve on the traditional methods; if he were conservative, he would probably continue to do as he always had; if he were shiftless, he might not even be as efficient as he would have been under the old restraints. Such a state would produce individual variations, gradual changes in methods, and would hence be more favorable to progress than the fixed regime. Indeed such a state is a necessary prerequisite for progress; and in morals as in agriculture, individual variations and individual judgments are what make prog- ress possible. They are the sine qua non of progress. But the sine qua non is negative. Now just as agricultural science has utilized this negative condition or potential progress, and, by the organization of agricultural experiment into a controlled social enterprise, has achieved a progress which an indefinite amount of random individual effort could not have achieved ; so moral science, by an organization and ex- perimental control of moral deliberation and judgment can achieve a moral progress which individual judgment left to itself might never have achieved. Moral science, then, far from being a return to fixed conditions and social coercion, is an attempt to give positive meaning and direc- tion to individual freedom. As such it is not only an extension of man's control over nature by science, but also a further step in the democratic organization of society. We can now return with added SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 47 meaning to our statement above, that moral science is social delibera- tion or evaluation, and discuss its technique more in detail. Our first problem is: what is the subject-matter, the raw material, the data of moral science? From what has been said it follows that it must at least be a problematic situation. But the usual objection to this is, that this reduces moral science to casuistry and hence robs it of its scientific character. It is a common observation that science can not possibly determine what specifically is to be done in any specific moral situation. Moral situations are too particularized to be amenable to scientific method. They are situations calling for individual intelli- gence and judgment. The most that moral science can do is to formu- late some general, formal rules, which can be applied in any situation. 2 Hence, moralists, believing the problem of the inquiry into what is good too particularistic for science, have turned to the more general problem of what good is ; they have turned from the problem of what ought to be, to the problem of what the ought is. This relieved them from dealing with the annoying particulars, and at the same time took moral science out of the realm of the relative and problematic and into that of the absolute and the certain. Thus moral science became demoralized into a theoretical or structural science, as we saw in Chapter II. Our foregoing analysis of the moral situation suggests a way out of this apparent dilemma for moral science — either casuistry or theory. Moral science as social deliberation has for its subject-matter concrete social problems. These are sufficiently general to escape being cas- uistic, and at the same time they remain practical problems. By "problem" here is meant not a definitely, intellectually formulated problem, for the formulation of the problem is part of the function of moral science, and not a quality of the raw material for moral science. What is denoted is more accurately described as a problematic social situation. This problematic character of the social situation may vary in intensity. On the one end of the scale it may be merely a socially potential situation ; a situation involving practical possibilities claiming actualization. Of course, every temporal situation is potential, but what is meant here is not the mere fact of potentiality, but a social situation which is practically potential, which makes a claim or demand on social action ; a situation of which we say " something had better be done about it." Examples of such situations might be : the social dis- position of large inheritances, the food distribution, the racial groups s V. Bradley: Ethical Studies, pp. 174 ff. 48 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS of our cosmopolitan cities, etc. These are situations which at present merely suggest possibilities for scientific social control. On the other end of the scale are situations which have actively conflicting factors, "blocked situations," social impasses. Examples at present of such situations are to be found in the arbitration of industrial disputes, the control of prices, the urgent problems raised by the war, etc. These situations are more than merely potential; they are situations partly actualized into opposing directions and actively demanding control. Between these two types of situations as limits may be found an indefi- nite number of variations; and the problems vary accordingly from the most specific and detailed to the most vaguely defined. But they all have this common quality of being incomplete, uncertain, prob- lematic situations, demanding (more or less urgently) social control, and as such they constitute the subject-matter or material for moral science. Leaving this as a general analysis of the subject-matter of moral science, we turn to our second problem in the analysis of moral science, namely : what is its object? We have already labeled this object Social Progress, but to give this label meaning we have to discuss it in terms of the foregoing analysis of the subject-matter of moral science. The object consists in the successful termination of the social situation taken as subject-matter. We have seen that this situation is taken by moral science as incomplete, as requiring determination or control, and the function of moral science is to effect this determination or control. Or, stating this in more traditional terms, we may say that moral sci- ence has for its object the invention of social goods. For an object is a good by virtue of its functioning in this process of control, and it is only as objects are related to a specific process of control that they are constituted goods or possess the value-quality. A good is therefore not merely discovered, but invented by moral science. The relation between discovery and invention is very close, and the two terms may often be used indiscriminately. But there is this important distinction, that the thing discovered is something external to the process of its discovery, whereas the thing invented is the direct outcome of the process of its invention. We say a steam engine is invented, and the expansive force of steam discovered, meaning that the former is something produced, and the latter something found. In the same sense goods are produced, not found. The coal and iron and water of the steam engine are, to be sure, not produced by the inventor ; but their organization into an engine or mechanism is the product of the inventor; and just so, the raw-material, the natural objects and SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 49 social situations upon which moral science operates are not its produc- tions, but their organization into goods is its invention. In this sense goods are artificial, not natural ; they are products of human art, and not given as data for it. Now, just as the inventions of mechanics, engineering, etc., were supposed to be " one man affairs," the spontaneous creation of an indi- vidual's imagination, so moral inventions or goods are still supposed to be "subjective," individual satisfactions of private desires and imagi- nations. But invention in the physical sciences is to-day a highly devel- oped technical social enterprise, and it is just as objective, and just as scientific a procedure as any "pure" science. And so there is no a priori reason why moral invention should not be made scientific. The probabilities are, on the contrary, that the invention of social goods will make little progress until it becomes a socially organized process and develops a scientific technique. Having determined the subject-matter and the object of moral sci- ence, we still have the problem of its method or technique. The dis- cussion so far has taken for granted that this technique is a scientific technique ; that moral inventions can be just as scientific as inventions in any other field. If this is so, its analysis would be nothing more or less than the analysis of scientific method, which is too serious a task for the limitations of this essay. Our present task is hence of a more negative character. Taking the nature of scientific method for granted, we have simply to consider whether the problems of the subject-matter of moral science as it has been described, admit of scientific method. Or, in other words, we have to consider the chief implications of a scientific technique for moral science. In the first place it implies the Experimental Method. It means that moral concepts must be hypotheses for experimental verification, rather than final standards or intuited truths. We must not claim knowledge of moral truths short of verification in practise. And this verification must be of the same sort as it is in the physical sciences, a concrete, continuous process, and not a wholesale affair. To verify means to put to work a specific hypothesis in a specific situation to see whether it does or does not fulfil its intention. Just as the truth of irrigation consists in its ability to control and fulfil the problem which it was intended to solve, so the truth of democracy, of trade-unions, or of honesty consists in their ability to control the situations which gave rise to them. Apart from such an experimental verification, there can be no claim to moral truth or knowledge. In the second place, it follows that it is impossible to impose a fixed 50 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS technique or borrowed rules of procedure from the outside. Every science must develop its own technique as it proceeds (within the gen- eral laws of scientific inquiry) . The science of medicine, for example, did not derive its elaborate technique (surgery, the use of serums, hospitals, rules for sanitation, medical formulae, etc.) from other sci- ences, but developed it in response to its practical needs. Similarly no one can prescribe beforehand for moral science the organization of its technique. That can come only within the development of the science. At first it must grope its way as best it can, and gradually, through scientific genius, through repeated failures and partial successes, an effective technique develops. Wasteful methods are eliminated, general concepts are formed to organize the manifold particulars, and in vari- ous other ways the procedure becomes systematized and ordered, and hence more efficient. A third and most important point which must be made regarding the method of moral science concerns its relation to structural social science. This relation, in general, the relation between the discovery of structures and the process of control, has already been discussed, and it need be discussed here merely in its special bearing on the relation between social science and moral science. These two have been sharply distinguished in this essay. The reason for this distinction lies not merely in the nature of their subject-matters, but chiefly in the fact that it has proved to be valuable in the organization of scientific in- quiry. By cutting loose from immediate practical demands inquiry has been enabled to multiply its discoveries far beyond what it could have done, had it restricted itself to the more narrow and immediate prac- tical demands ; and by so doing it has had a reflex controlling influence on the more practical activities. The whole laboratory method is simply a device for making possible discoveries, by creating artificial test conditions, which could have been made, if at all, only very imper- fectly and laboriously under the conditions of ordinary practical life. It has therefore been profitable for both pure and applied science to be carried on independently of each other. And this increasing separa- tion is only now being accomplished in the social and political sciences, with promising results. Social scientists are now becoming more and more interested in theoretical problems on their own account, without reference to immediate practical consequences. But for this very reason we need to emphasize the fact that social science and moral science are not as mutually independent as they may seem to be. For while it is true that social science can develop an inde- pendent interest, it does not follow that it can be independent from SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 51 moral science in its actual operation and working relations. Two points need to be emphasized. First, the discovery of natural structures is possible only within moral activity, that is, it is impossible to predict a priori the limitations set by nature to social activity. Natural struc- tures are discovered as the things we can't change, and the only way to find out whether we can or can not do certain things is to try and see. It is only within the attempt at social control and reconstruction that its natural limits can be discovered. It is only after we have tried every known way of doing something and have invariably failed, that we can legitimately say : " It can't be done." Of course, there would be no progress and no science, if we could not foretell on the basis of past experience what to expect from a certain situation. If we had to try each drop of water before we were warranted in saying that it is H 2 0, there would be no chemistry. But since we live in a world in which generalization is possible, or in other words, in a world which is struc- tural, we have developed a scientific technique for making valid gen- eralizations, the technique of experimental verification. In the degree in which social experimentation can be carried on apart from moral activity, in that degree social and moral science can become distinct enterprises. But it still remains true, that if social life were completely static (and hence non-moral), natural social structures could not be discovered, for there would be no possible way of distinguishing be- tween natural structures and mere social habits and artificial accretions. The second point is, that the discovery of structures is essential to the process of control. The knowledge of the natural limits of social art means the ability to foresee consequences, and this is essential to control. The hope of social control and progress would be quite irra- tional, if social art revealed no structures ; but their actual discovery by social science justifies this hope, and at the same time furnishes it with the tools for making social control actual. It follows that moral science is not merely the "application" to specific instances of general prin- ciples or rules laid down by social science, nor is it the " practical im- plications" of a "theoretical ethical system." If this were all, one would not be justified in calling it science, for it would have no intel- lectual significance. It would be a practical art like that of laying bricks according to a given plan. If social science discovered " rules for conduct," "guides for action" in the sense of prescriptions which had merely to be followed or applied, we would have no need of moral science. But we have seen that the discoveries of social science are not " judgments of practise " but " judgments of fact ; " that they are formulations of natural structures, not principles of practise, and that 52 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS hence they bear the same relation to moral science as the discoveries of physics do to the science of engineering. They are not so much the foundation on which moral science " rests," as the tools with which it builds. Now just as tools have meaning only with reference to the process of building, so the discoveries of social science have meaning only with reference to social art, and neither is possible without the other. Social science and moral science, then, must be regarded as dis- tinct, but complementary, activities in the process of control, and, what is more significant, as complementary intellectual or scientific activities. Since moral art involves deliberation or evaluation, and is not merely a matter of practical skill in " applying " the laws of social science, it is essential that it develop a scientific technique, for not until this takes place can social progress be intelligent. It remains to point out what the present status of moral science is. As long as society was so organized as to preclude all social delibera- tion, there was little use in speaking of moral science, in the sense in which it has been used here. But now that social organization has be- come sufficiently flexible and democratic to make social deliberation possible, moral science is no longer a dream. In fact, the troubles in which democratic societies are to-day steeped create a positive demand for moral science, or rather for its further development. For we must not discount the positive beginnings which have been made. It was pointed out in a previous chapter that, if language would permit, it would be profitable to call all practical science, all science in its function of evaluation and control, moral science. We could then consider the scientific progress accomplished in the fields of engineer- ing, agriculture, medicine, industrial invention, in short, all the control over nature which physical science has effected as elements of moral science. But since the word " moral " has a more restricted connota- tion, we have confined ourselves to scientific social progress. Hence our survey of moral science will include only this narrower and com- paratively undeveloped branch of man's control over nature. Probably the branch of moral science which is most highly devel- oped and scientifically organized, is the science of education. That the problems of education are moral problems is a proposition too evi- dent to require defense, for the kind of education which exists in a society is evidently a very important factor in social progress. The art of education is as old as civilization itself, and its problems have always been among the most fundamental social problems. But for this rea- son it is all the more astonishing that they have but recently become scientific problems. There have been theories and philosophies of edu- SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 53 cation since ancient times, but they have for the most part been pro- pounded as truths, rather than as hypotheses for experimental testing. Consequently they have been either unfit as working hypotheses, and for this reason impossible of verification, or they have been " applied " with the advance guarantee of their truth, rather than experimentally for the sake of verification. Genuine controlled experimentation in education is still a novelty ; and the conscious development of a scien- tific educational technique is still in its beginnings. These beginnings are marked by the establishment of careful surveys, the founding of special experimental schools, educational laboratories, as well as by the introduction of experimental methods here and there in the public and private schools. By the educational inventions thus produced we are being enabled to extend our control in educational practise. A second branch of moral science, and one which is in the same stage of organization as the science of education, is the science of law. The practise of law, as of education, is as old as human society, and it has been the object of study for at least two thousand years. But the phrase " science of law " has a strange sound even to-day. As a matter of fact, the study of law is for the most part not scientific. The domi- nating principle of the Common Law, or in its modified form in this country, Constitutional Law, is still the basis both of legal practise and theory, and this leads to a precedent and case method of studying law. The classic doctrine that the "common law itself is nothing else but reason," is still very prevalent, 3 and it is only gradually that the belief is spreading that the common law is after all quite " common " and far from rational. A science of law implies, instead of an appeal to a ready-made, supposedly rational authority, an attempt to legislate scientifically, i. e., experimentally, with a view to finding the best solu- tion to a specific problem of legislation. In such a science the study of common law and of precedent would find its place as furnishing hypotheses for testing. By a study of similar cases in the past, and how they were solved, suggestions and ideas to apply to the case in hand are multiplied. The inventive capacity of the legislator is in- creased. But to use this appeal to past experience not as an appeal to experiment, but as an appeal to authority, is comparable to the medieval anatomist, who decided that there was something wrong with a horse, because he didn't have as many teeth as Galen said he should have. Of course, it would be expecting too much of our law schools to take up the science of law, since they are meant to train lawyers, not legislators, 8 V . Roscoe Pound: "Do we need a Philosophy of Law?" Columbia Law Review, V, 1905, PP- 339-353- 54 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS men who are supposed simply to know the law, rather than how to make law. But as a matter of fact, most of our legislators come from the lawyer class, so that indirectly the law schools do furnish the train- ing (or lack of training) for our legislators. Schools for legislators, rather than for lawyers are now being founded in connection with several of the universities, and they promise to mark the beginnings of a scientific legislative technique. But as it is, legislation is an art learned by practical experience, rather than a science controlled by experiment. But despite the hit or miss, purely empirical methods of most of our legislation, it must be noted that our legislative procedure and organization is significant for moral science ; for it is fundamentally an attempt at deliberative social control. It is an attempt to supplant the more primitive, arbitrary and unreflective control of common law or of despotism, and the still more primitive absence of control or laissez faire, by a deliberative mechanism. And although its present organi- zation is still very inefficient and its technique unscientific, it furnishes a large fund of crude experimentation, the results of which are very valuable in controlling future experiments, and in refining its methods. Especially significant for moral science is modern " social legislation," which is becoming of ever increasing importance ; for it not only deals with problems which are moral in the fullest sense of the word, but it has been enacted with sufficient foresight and intelligent control to give it experimental value. Especially the experiments on social legislation of Germany, France, England and Australia have a sufficient amount of general homogeneity, combined with particular variations to suit local conditions, to present the character of controlled scientific experi- ments, and afford an admirable basis for further experimentation with similar problems, in which the United States is beginning to engage. The establishment of numerous commissions and boards of experts to make scientific inquiries into these problems, and the increasing co- operation of scientific organizations with the legislative bodies and administrative officials, the founding of the Academy of Political Sci- ence, are still other evidences of the growth of scientific social control, and promise to make important contributions to our knowledge of the technique of progress. Our discussion of the science of law and legislation has already taken us into the broader sphere of politics and political science. The close relation between ethics and politics has been theoretically recog- nized since the time of Aristotle, but one has only to look into ethical literature to see that this relation has been practically ignored. And SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 55 the reason for this becomes quite evident when we recall that the feudal regime was a fixed political organization, imposed from the outside upon the individual as something to be accepted without ques- tion. The organization of society was hence not a matter of delibera- tion, unless one happened to be a ruler or a feudal lord ; it was rather a limiting factor for deliberation, something taken for granted. Moral right was thus separated from political right, and ethics either confined itself within the feudal regime as a limit, or transcended the real world altogether. Ethical theory to this day contrasts public right with indi- vidual right on the one hand, and with absolute right on the other. But our present social organization calls for a close alliance between ethics and politics ; in fact the distinction between them must be relative, for political problems have become moral, and moral problems have be- come political. The problems of social reconstruction or social prog- ress are the outstanding moral problems. Politics and morals are now both objects of public deliberation, and can only be distinguished by the degree in which they call for political regulation. Among the moral problems there are some which call for legislative regulation, and these we usually call political. Hence the boundary line between the moral and the political must be constantly shifting in accordance with prac- tical exigencies and social conditions. So we have, besides the problems of education, of legislation and politics, another large group of problems for moral science, namely, the " moral " problems in the narrower sense of the term. These are problems for public deliberation and social control which are not as yet considered subject to the rigorous and definite control of law, but which are left to the more variable agencies of public opinion, public approval and disapproval, custom, etc. Such problems are those of marriage and the family, eugenics, birth-control, the distribution of wealth and labor, arbitration of industrial disputes, poverty and char- ity, censorship of press and speech, international relations, war and peace — to mention only a few of the groups of problems which con- front our social life. The mere enumeration of these problems shows the difficulty of separating the moral and the legal or political, and the economic; they are inextricably interwoven, and problems are con- stantly shifting their status, being now predominantly "moral," and now economic and now legal. But what concerns us here is that we have a host of social prob- lems — under what heading we may class them makes little difference — which call for scientific control, or, in other words, which are poten- tially subject-matter for moral science. At the same time the fact is 56 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS all too evident that they are for the most part not taken as data for science. Many of them are regarded as matters of individual judg- ment ; others as matters beyond scientific control. What little progress has been made in dealing with them scientifically has come inci- dentally as "applications" which social science has casually thrown out here and there. That is to say, they have been approached not so much on their own account, but as incidental to theoretical problems. So we find them discussed under "Applied Sociology," "Practical Economics," etc., which usually means little more than that the author "draws some practical conclusions" from his theory. The present social need is the development of a scientific technique in solving these problems, a method of inventing social goods. The beginnings of this technique may be traced, though they are far behind those of the older branches of moral science, education and law. In the first place, there is at present a ferment of ideas and hypotheses regarding them. Many of them are mere guesses and un- enlightened suggestions, but Others are good working hypotheses. These ideas need to be coordinated, clarified and tested. In a few cases experimental work has been done, where ideas have been put to work. 4 There are two great handicaps in this development of moral science : ( i ) The great difficulty of experimenting. Social experimen- tation on a large scale is too expensive and too treacherous, and the interests at stake are too vital to stand much " tampering." All experi- mentation in its early stages is bound to be wasteful; too many false ideas have to be tried before one is found which will actually work. Where the object is a comparatively simple invention like that of a telephone, this does not make such a great difference; but when the object is, say, the industrial reorganization of a community, progress and knowledge must necessarily be slow in coming. And for the same reason, the separation between social science and moral science will not be as great as in the physical sciences, for it is impracticable to experiment on a wide scale from a purely theoretical interest. To some extent this can be done and is done, especially in social psychology and anthropology, and that it will be increasingly done seems certain; but due to practical exigencies, the theoretical and practical inquiries will, at least for some time, be closely related. Otherwise theory will be cut off from the possibilities of verification, and will remain " mere theory " rather than knowledge. (2) The second great handicap for moral science is our ignorance 4 Hull House is a good example of such experimentation. SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 57 of those structures upon which social art depends ; for until the mech- anisms by which social control can be effected are better known, prog- ress must be slow. The tools which social science furnishes are still crude. But in this connection it must be recalled that the making of tools, the discovery of natural structures, can take place only within the process of control, and that hence moral science can not wait until it finds a more secure theoretical foundation. Social science is just as dependent upon moral science as moral science is on social science. They are correlative functions of a scientific social art ; the one is the controlled discovery of its natural limitations, the other is the con- trolled invention of its possible goods. Upon this scientific control rests the hope of our social progress. The need is only too evident. The blindness and frightful waste of our social life to-day stand shamefully revealed. Our ignorance is patent. But our willingness to face the fact and to assume our moral responsi- bility is the first step towards progress. The next step is moral science. CHAPTER VI FROM MORALITY TO FREEDOM But these two handicaps to moral science, the difficulties of social experimentation and ignorance of our natural limitations, are after all " merely practical " obstacles ; what seems to be far more troublesome is a theoretical obstacle. " Social progress," we hear it said, " that is a pious sentiment, to be sure, but it is not enlightening. You bid us proceed, but you tell us not whither. We ask: 'What is the goal towards which we should make progress ?' And you answer : ' Never mind, just proceed.' What is important to know is not so much : how shall we go ? as, where are we going ? If you fail to disclose the end of our journey, how can you bid us to walk intelligently? Of what avail is all this enthusiasm for social progress, if it be not linked with a fore- sight of the goal? v In other words, to use the terms of the moralist again, the function of moral science is not to discuss and discover social machinery, but to " lay down the ends " which this machinery is to serve. For clearly, social experimentation is blind (and criminal), if it is aimless. The wise course of action is therefore not to make things worse by our blind enthusiasm, but to first make sure of our ends. Having done this, we can then discuss the means of their realization. Mill sums up the situation very well : 1 " The relation in which rules of art stand to doctrines of science may be thus characterized. The art proposes to itself an end to be attained, defines the end, and hands it over to the science. The science receives it, consid- ers it as a phenomenon or effect to be studied, and having investigated its causes and conditions, sends it back to art with a theorem of the combina- tion of circumstances by which it could be produced. Art then examines these combinations of circumstances, and according as any of them are or are not in human power, pronounces the end attainable or not. The only one of the premises, therefore, which Art supplies, is the original major premise, which asserts that the attainment of the end is desirable." If this is a correct analysis, moral science would, of course, be a contradiction in terms. We would have science on the one hand, which is theoretical, structural, and therefore non-moral; and art on the 1 J. S. Mill: System of Logic, Bk. VI: XII, 2. SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 59 other, which is moral, but not a matter of knowledge or science. This is the theoretical difficulty which hovers about such a term as " a sci- ence of social progress." If it were merely a matter of terminology, if it were merely a ques- tion of the appropriateness of using the term science or art to designate a social enterprise such as that outlined in the foregoing pages, the problem would indeed be sterile and of purely academic interest. But it is quite evident that it has genuine, practical significance, for we get a different kind of analysis, with different " facts," and consequently different methods of procedure. If we accept Mill's analysis, the impli- cations are, so far as social art is concerned, that social ends can be "laid down," posited, in an axiomatic manner; that they are definite or at least determinate ; that men have fairly clear, definable, aims and ends ; and that, if difficulties arise in defining them, they are dialectical difficulties which can be clarified by sufficient " reflection " upon them. Either ends are self-evident and can simply be posited, or they cart be clarified and defined dialectically. Dialectically, because ends are axiomatic and must be defined at the outset, since all subsequent de- ductions are based on them and justified by them. A definition of social ends must therefore precede " a science of means." Or, to quote Mill again {v. note to Ch. I, p. 7) : "Though in science the particular truths precede the general theory, the contrary might be expected to be the case with a practical art, such as morals or legislation. All action is for the sake of some end, and rules of action . . . must take their whole character and colour from the end to which they are subservient." There are several points of this analysis with which the argument of this essay is in complete harmony. The two chief points are : first, that actions must be judged by their consequences; that nothing but the end can be a justification of the means. If social conduct and insti- tutions are to be evaluated scientifically, it must be with reference to their ends or consequences. And secondly, the ends can not them- selves be justified. There is no intelligible solution to the question: what ought human ends be? We can only ask what are they? For how can that by which all else is justified, itself need justification? But when we ask this question: What are human ends? the real difficulty is raised. For the answers to that question reveal a seem- ingly hopeless variety of opinions. If Mill's statement is true, that " all action is for the sake of some end," it should follow that human ' ends are obvious, if not to the " common man," at least to a social philosopher who, like Aristotle, " reflects upon the obvious." But the actual state of doubt and confusion which prevails should make us 60 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS suspicious of this assumption. The very fact that Mill argues in the very same paragraph that ends not only need to be defined, but justi- fied, that a doctrine of ends or first principles of conduct is needed in order to "determine the proper objects of approbation" — that very fact, it would seem, indicates that human ends are not as axiomatic as Mill presumes. Whether or not men have definite ends which can be discovered by processes of definition and dialectical clarification, is essentially a prob- lem for social psychology. And it is too large a problem to be ade- quately discussed here. All that can be done here is to make clear that the assumption on which the thesis of this essay rests, is that men do not start out with definite social ends. " We don't know where we're going, but we are on our way " is not expressive of a pragmatic motto, but of the facts of social life. It is not a fact in which we can rejoice, but one which we must accept as our starting point. And it is the recognition of this fact which constitutes the merit of an experimental philosophy. As Kant assumed that " what one's duty is, is plain of itself to everyone," so modern moral philosophy assumes, and with much less justification, that what one's ends are is plain of itself to everybody. It is astounding that in the face of our evident social ignorance, philos- ophers should make definite social ends a starting point for social philosophy. The discovery of social ends is the aim of moral science, and constitutes its social utility. But moral science can be dialectical only on the assumption that the confusion is a confusion of ideas and not of social life itself. For Aristotle this assumption was quite nat- ural. Just as duty in a feudal society was actually " plain of itself to everybody," so social life was comparatively obvious and simple in Greek society. And when Aristotle discussed "social well-being," eudaimonia, as the end of social life, the term meant something con- crete and well-defined to Aristotle's fellow Greeks, and in the Nicho- machean Ethics we have a concrete description of it. But just as Duty, when taken out of its feudal setting, lost its concrete content and be- came a formal concept, so Aristotle's eudaimonia, when carried over into modern society became " happiness," a formal concept. And con- sequently ethics, which for Aristotle was a concrete inquiry, became a formal dialectical discipline. To say that "happiness," democracy, liberty, etc., are social ends means, therefore, either that the end of social life is 1 social excellence, which is true but unenlightening, or it means that they have a concrete content, which is obvious, or at least easily defined, and which consti- SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 6l tutes the axioms of moral science ; or it means that they are working hypotheses whose content becomes clarified in the course of social experimentation. In the first case we have merely a formal analysis. Social ends are not defined except in a formal sense. That is to say, when we define the end of social life as "social excellence," "perfection," "happiness," " self-realization," etc., we are defining what it means to be an end ; we are given the connotation of the term, but its denotation, its concrete application is made no clearer. Duty, perfection, happiness may have this purely formal meaning. Such terms as democracy, liberty, etc., still have some concrete, though usually vague, content ; but they may be- come purely formal, just as the German " freedom " became a formal concept. It is clearly not this kind of definition which is meant when we speak of the need of defining, clarifying, our social ends and aims. In the second case we have an attempt at a genuine definition. Ends are fairly concrete. They are defined in terms of pain and pleas- ure, work and wealth, safety and sacrifice, peace and honor, etc. But the significant fact is that the more concrete these definitions become, the more disputed and doubtful are they. A nation may rally under the banner of democracy, but when a definition is called for it divides into a hundred camps. All nations agreed that they were fighting each other in self-defense, but no two agreed upon its meaning. So that we have the curious situation, that the more social ends become defined, the less social do both men and their ends become. And we are forced to conclude that either men are fundamentally un-social and incapable of agreeing upon their ends, or else men are ignorant of what they really want. The latter seems the more probable. In the third case, social life becomes an experimental art. Men are ignorant of their real ends, and they are attempting to discover them. From this stand-point the so-called ends of social philosophy become hypotheses for social experiment. The definition and clarifi- cation of ends becomes a social instead of a dialectical process. Ends can not be posited categorically ; they must be employed hypothetically. Such terms as democracy, justice, self-determination of nationalities, etc., which we are in the habit of calling " fundamental principles " or absolute ends, are really instrumental in nature. They are hypothetical definitions, themselves needing verification and justification. They serve to designate vaguely concrete changes, particular institutions and social organizations, which are not known definitely, but which gradually emerge as these concepts are experimentally employed. They are names of tendencies. Tendencies are initially vague, and it is only 62 SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS in their social interaction that they become defined or determinate. Mill's analysis, above quoted, therefore represents an ex post facto analysis, an analysis of the situation after the real process of definition has taken place. After ends have been clarified it is possible to posit them as desirable per se, for then the concrete conditions of their existence are embodied in them, but in the actual process of definition the formulation of ends is hypothetical, not categorical. Ends thus formulated are aims, as opposed to consequences. The former are logical, the latter might be called " psychological." As long as we proceed logically we get definition in terms of con- cepts, ideas, universals ; and as long as social ends are posited as intel- lectual, cognitive entities, so long will it be impossible to rid them of the need of justification. For ideas are essentially hypothetical, true or false, in need of verification or justification. And because Mill, for example, conceives of ends in these terms, he is forced on the one hand to admit that ends can not be justified, since all else is justified by them, and on the other hand he is forced to seek a "doctrine of ends " or principles for the justification of ends. The ends which ultimately justify social practise are not logical, but psychological, i. e., they are the consequences, not the aims, of action. And social experimentation will cease when a social life has been achieved which is psychologically satisfactory. Under what con- crete social conditions this will be realized — that is the problem of moral science. When that knowledge has been achieved social ends will be completely discovered and moral science will have achieved its goal. Then social art will be free. Then ethics will give place to esthetics, and morality to freedom. For then conduct will be luminous and society free. When social art is no longer blindfolded by ignor- ance of its natural limitations and of its own ends, when man knows himself as well as nature, then freedom ceases to be potential and be- comes actual; then man will have his heart's desires, for his desires will be tempered to the conditions of their attainment. Then human life, which now still bristles with wild shrubbery, or mocks us with its clods and furrows, will be a garden in which grow ideal flowers. BIBLIOGRAPHY. 1 Alexander, Samuel: Moral Order and Progress: an analysis of ethical conceptions. London, 1899. Aristotle : Nichomachean Ethics. Book VI. 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Everett, Walter G. : Moral values. New York, 1918. Folkmar, Daniel: Legons d'anthropologie philosophique ; ses applications a la morale positive. Paris, 1900. Fouillee, Alfred : Le socialisme et la sociologie reformiste. Paris, 1909. " Sociologie pratique." Revue de Metaphysique et de Morale, Vol. 19, 1911. Giddings, Franklin H. : The principles of sociology. New York, 1896. Gide, Charles : Principes d'economie politique. Paris, 1896. von Gizycke: Moralphilosophie. Guyau, Marie J.: A Sketch of morality independent of obligation or sanc- tion. Transl. by Gertrude Kapteyn. London, 1898. La morale anglaise contemporaine: morale de I'utilite et de V evolution. Especially Ch. 2. Paris, 1885. Harris, George: Moral evolution. London, 1896. Hobhouse, L. T. : Social evolution and political theory. Chs. 1, 2, 7. New York, 191 1. Hobson, J. A. : Work and wealth. Especially Ch. on " Social science and social art." London, 1914. Hodgson, H. Shadworth : Theory of practise. London, 1870. Hume, David: Inquiry into the principles of morals. Oxford, 1902. International Journal of Ethics: July, 1917. von Jhering, Rudolph: Law as a means to an end. Transl. by Isaac Husik. Boston, 1913. Kant, Immanuel: Anthropologic. Pt. II. Critique of practical reason and other works on the theory of ethics. Transl. by T. K. Abbott. London, 1909. Idee zu einer allgemeinen Geschichte in weltbuergerlicher Absicht. Martineau, James: Types of ethical theory. Oxford, 1891. Marvin, F. S. : Progress and history. London, 1916. Marx-Engels: Manifesto of the communist party. Chicago, 1913. Menger, Karl: Untersuchungen ueber die Methode der Socialwissen- schaften und der politischen Oekonomie ins besondere. Leipzig, 1883. Mill, John Stuart: Examination of Sir William Hamilton's philosophy, Vol. II, Ch. 20, Boston, 1866. System of logic. Vol. II, Bk. XII. London, 1906. Utilitarianism. London, 1907. Moore, G. E. : Principia ethica. Cambridge, 1903. Naville, Adrien: "La morale conditionelle." Revue Philosophique, Vol. 62, 1906. von Oettingen, Alexander: Die Moralstatistik. Erlangen, 1868-1873. Ogg, F. A. : Social progress in contemporary Europe. New York, 1915. SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 65 Patten, Simon N. : The theory of social forces. Philadelphia, 1896. Paulsen, Friedrich : System of ethics. Especially Introduction. Transl. by Frank Thilly. New York, 1899. Pollock, Sir F. B. : " The history of the law of nature." Columbia Law Review. Vols. I and II. Pound, Roscoe : " Do we need a philosophy of law ? " Columbia Law Re- view. 1905. Proceedings of the Academie des sciences morales et politiques. Ratzenhofer, Gustav: Positive Ethik, die Verwirklichung des Sittlich- seinsollenden. Leipzig, 1901. de Roberty, Eugene : " Le Concept sociologique de progres." Revue Philosophique, Vol. 75, 1913. Nouveau programme de sociologie. Schaeffle, Albert : Die ethische Seite. Gesammelte Aufsaetze; Mensch und Gut in der Volkswirtschaft. Tubingen, 1885-1886. Schmoller, Gustav: Ueber einige Grundfragen der Socialpolitik und der V olkswirtschaftslehre. Leipzig, 1898. Simmel, Geor<3: Einleitung in die Moralwissenschaft; eine Kritik der ethischen Grundbe griff e. Berlin, 1892-1893. Sidgwick, Henry: Methods of Ethics. London, 1913. Simkhovitch, V. G. : Maxism vs. Socialism. Boston, 1912. Spargo, John : Socialism. New York, 1910. Spencer, Herbert: Essays scientific, political and speculative. Vol. I, Essay on " Progress ; its law and cause." Principles of ethics. New York, 1902. Principles of biology. New York, 1900. Social Statics. New York, 1883. von Stein, Lorenz: Gegenwart und Zukunft der Rechts und Stattswissen- schaft. Stephen, Leslie : Science of Ethics. London, 1882. Todd, A. J. : Theories of social progress. New York, 1918. Urwick, E. J. : A philosophy of social progress. London, 1912. Ward, Lester F. : Pure sociology. New York, 1907. Woodbridge, F. J. E. : The purpose of history. New York, 1916. " Structure." Journal of Philosophy, Psychology and Scientific Meth- ods, Dec. 6, 1917. Wundt, Wilhelm : Ethik. Stuttgart, 1886. Supplementary Bibliographies are to be found in: Ellwood, Ch. A.: Sociology and Modern Social Problems. New York, 1913- Fairchild, Henry P. : Outline of Applied Sociology. New York, 1916. AKCHIVES OF PHILOSOPHY Editorial communications should be addressed to Professor F. J. E Wood- bridge, Columbia University, New York City. The numbers are as follows : 1. The Concept of Control: Savilla Alice Elkus, Ph.D. 40 cents. 2. The Will to Believe as a Basis for Defense of Religions Faith : Ettie Stettheimer, Ph.D. $1.00. 3. The Individual: A Metaphysical Inquiry: William Forbes Cooley, B.D., Ph.D. $1.00. 4. The Ethical Implications of Bergson's Philosophy : Una Bernard Bait, Ph.D. $1.25. 5. Beligious Values and Intellectual Consistency : Edward H. Beisner, Ph.D. 75 cents. 6. Bosmini's Contribution to Ethical Philosophy : John F. Bruno, Ph.D. 75 cents. 7. 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