value and needs no supernatural prop. Religion is not the root of morality, but its flower and consummation. The finest ideals, the loftiest heights of morality, merge into religion; but even these spiritual ideals have their ultimate root in the common soil of human welfare, and are rational ideals because they minister to human need.

For the "categorical" theory of morality, see Kant's Theory of Ethics, tr. Abbott; F. H. Bradley, Ethical Studies; F. Paulsen, System of Ethics, bk. II, chap. v, secs. 3 and 4; Dewey and Tufts, Ethics, chap. XVI, Sec. 2; H. Spencer, Data of Ethics, chap. ш, secs. 12, 13. W. Fite, Introductory Study of Ethics, chap. x. H. Rashdall, Theory of Good and Evil, bk. 1, chap. v.

For the "according to nature" theory, see Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius, passim; Rousseau, Discourse on Science and Art, etc.; J. S. Mill, "Nature," in Three Essays on Religion; T.H. Huxley, Evolution and Ethics. T. N. Carver, The Religion Worth Having.

For the "self-realization" theory, see T. H. Green, Prolegomena to Ethics; F. Paulsen, op. cit., esp. bk. п, chap. II, secs. 5-8; H. W. Wright, Self-Realization; J. S. Mackenzie, Manual of Ethics, 2d ed., chaps. VI and VII. W. Fite, op. cit., chap. XI.

For theological ethics, see any of the older theological books. A brief comment may be found in H. Spencer's Data of Ethics, chap. IV, sec. 18. Bruce, Ethics of the Old Testament, chap. I. H. Höffding, Philosophy of Religion, p. 328 ff.

CHAPTER XIV

THE WORTH OF MORALITY

BEFORE proceeding to a more concrete unfolding of the difficulties and problems of morality, it will be well to formulate our theory in terms of modern biology, and then, finally, to answer those modern critics who reject not merely the rational explanation of morality but morality itself.

Morality as the organization of human interests.

The worth of morality is most commonly defended to-day, in biological terms, by describing it as a synthesis of human interests; it is valuable because it is what we really want and need. It does, indeed, forbid the carrying-out of any impulse which renders impossible greater goods; it flatly opposes that unrestrained satisfying of a part of our natures which we call self-indulgence, or of one nature at the expense of others which we call selfishness. But it stifles desire only for a greater ultimate good; it rejects that needless repression of a part of the self which we call asceticism, and an undue subordination of self to others. It is, then, the organizing or harmonizing principle, subordinating the interests of each aspect of the self, and of the many conflicting selves, to the total welfare of the individual and of the community. As Plato pointed out,1 morality is not a new interest, but the

1 Republic, bks. I-IV; e.g. (444): “Is not the creation of righteousness the creation of a natural order and government of one another in the parts of the soul, and the creation of unrighteousness the opposite?" and (352): “Is not unrighteousness equally suicidal when existing in an individual [as it is when it exists in the State], rendering him incapable of action because he

representative of all other interests, the consensus of interest. Such a definition, we must admit, happily describes morality, showing us that if we would find its leading we must know ourselves; we must examine our actual existing needs and consider how best to attain them. The direction of morality is that of a carefully pruned and weeded human nature. But there are certain dangers inherent in this form of definition which we must note:

(1) We must not be satisfied with the synthesis of consciously felt desires. Many of our deepest needs fail to come to the surface and embody themselves in impulses; we do not know or seek what is really best for ourselves. There are possibilities of harmony and peace upon low levels. We must be pricked into desire for new forms of life and not allowed to stagnate in a condition which, however well organized and contented, is lacking in the richness and joy we might attain. We must include in the "interests" to be organized all our dumb and unrealized needs, all potential and latent impulses, as well as our articulate desires.

(2) On the other hand, there are perverse and pathological impulses which are deserving of no regard and must be simply cast aside in the organizing process, because they lead only to unhappiness. There is a difference between the desirable and the desired; morality is not merely an organizing but a corrective force, bringing sometimes not peace but a sword. A truer figure would be to represent it as a

is not at unity with himself, making him an enemy to himself?" and (443): "The righteous man does not permit the several elements within him to meddle with one another, or any of them to do the work of others; but he sets in order his own inner life, and is his own master, and at peace with himself; and when . . . he is no longer many, but has become one entirely temperate and perfectly adjusted nature, then he will . . . think and call right and good action that which preserves and coöperates with this condition." (In quoting Plato I have used Jowett's translation, with an occasional substitution; as, above, in the use of "righteousness" and “right”. instead of "justice" and "just.")

gardener, tenderly nurturing some flowers and ruthlessly pruning or weeding out others, that the garden may be the most beautiful place.

1

(3) Moreover, this definition, while an excellent description of what morality in general is, is not a justification of morality, does not point to its ultimate raison d'être. To all this organizing activity we might say, Cui bono, for what good? Why should we organize our interests; why not deny them like the ascetics? The mere existence of pushes, in this direction and that, affords no material for moral judgment; a harmonizing of them would make a mathematical resultant, but it would be of no superior worth. If there were no pleasure and pain in life, it would not matter in the least whether the various life-forces were organized or not. In such a colorless world a unison of human impulses would be as morally indifferent as the convergence of tributary rivers or the formation of an organized solar system. It is only, as we long ago pointed out, when consciousness differentiates into its plus and minus values, pleasure and pain, that a reason arises why any forces in the cosmos should be thwarted or allowed free play. With the emergence of those values, however, everything that affects them becomes significant. If the complete transformation of our interests would make human life brighter, fuller of plus values, such a radical alteration, rather than a harmonization, would be our ideal. As it is, desire points normally toward the really desirable; the direction of human welfare lies, in general, along the line of our organic needs, of the avoidance of clashes, of the mutual subordination and coöperation of natural impulses. The principle of reason, of intelligence, is necessary in morality to find this way of coöperation, this ultimate drift of need; but without the potentiality of happiness chaos would be as good as 1 Cf. ante, p. 74 f.

order, both within the individual soul and within the social group.1

Do moral acts always bring happiness somewhere?

anon recurs

The ultimate justification of morality, the value of synthesizing our interests, lies in the happiness men thereby attain. But there is one fundamental doubt that ever and the doubt whether, after all, actions that we agree in calling virtuous always bring happiness. If not, either our definition of morality, or our universal judgment as to what is moral, would seem to be in error. Perhaps morality is, after all, off the track, and to be discarded.

(1) We must first lay aside cases of perverted conscience, acts which are "subjectively moral," or conscientious, but not objectively best. These cases we have already glanced at; they need be no stumbling-block.

(2) We must remember that the types of conduct which we have glorified by the concepts "virtue," "duty," etc., are those which tend to produce happiness. We have to frame our judgments and pigeonhole acts according to their normal results. But it happens not infrequently that accidents upset these natural tendencies. For these unforeseeable eventualities the actor is not responsible; if his act was the best that could have been planned, in consideration of all known factors, it remains the ideal for future cases, it still retains the halo of "virtue" which must attract others to it. Good acts may lead, by unexpected chance, to evil consequences; bad acts may result, by some accident, in good. But to the interfering factor belongs the credit or blame; the act that would normally have led to good or to

1 Plato realized this, and in the Philebus points out that we cannot completely describe morality either in terms of pleasure-pain or in terms of reason (or wisdom), the organizing principle. Both aspects of morality are important. Cf., along this line, H. G. Lord, The Abuse of Abstraction in Ethics, in the James memorial volume.