CHAPTER XIV

15James Mill,Fragment on Mackintosh, p. 370.

16Ziegler,Social Ethics, p. 56sq.

17Clifford,Lectures and Essays, p. 296.

18See also James Mill,op. cit.pp. 261, 262, 375.

19Stuart Mill, in a note to James Mill’sAnalysis of the Phenomena of the Human Mind, ii. 323.

The nature of the moral emotions also gives us the key to another important problem—a problem which has called forth endless controversies—namely, the co-existence of moral responsibility with the general law of cause and effect. It has been argued that responsibility, and moral judgments generally, are inconsistent with the notion that the human will is determined by causes; that “either free-will is a fact, or moral judgment a delusion.” The argument has been well summed up by Sir Leslie Stephen as follows:—“Moral responsibility, it is said, implies freedom. A man is only responsible for that which he causes. Now thecausa causæis also thecausa causati. If I am caused as well as cause, the cause of me is the cause of my conduct; I am only a passive link in the chain which transmits the force. Thus, as each individual is the product of something external to himself, his responsibility is really shifted to that something. The universe or the first cause is alone responsible, and since it is responsible to itself alone, responsibility becomes a mere illusion.”20We are told that, if determinism were true, human beings would be no more proper subjects of moral valuation than are inanimate things; that the application of moral praise and blame would be “in itself as absurd as to applaud the sunrise or be angry at the rain”;21that the only admiration which the virtuous man might deserve would be the kind of admiration “which we justly accord to a well-made machine.”22Nor are these inferences from the doctrine of determinism only weapons forged by its opponents; they are shared by many of its own adherents. Richard Owen and his followers maintained that, since a man’s character is madeforhim, notbyhim, there is no justice in punishinghim for what he cannot help.23To Stuart Mill responsibility simply means liability to punishment, inflicted for a utilitarian purpose.24So also Prof. Sidgwick—whose attitude towards the free-will theory is that of a sceptic—argues that the common retributive view of punishment, and the ordinary notions of “merit,” “demerit,” and “responsibility,” involve the assumption that the will is free, and that these terms, if used at all, have to be used in new significations. “If the wrong act,” he says, “and the bad qualities of character manifested in it, are conceived as the necessary effects of causes antecedent or external to the existence of the agent, the moral responsibility—in the ordinary sense—for the mischief caused by them can no longer rest on him. At the same time, the Determinist can give to the terms ‘ill-desert’ and ‘responsibility’ a signification which is not only clear and definite, but, from an utilitarian point of view, the only suitable meaning. In this view, if I affirm that A is responsible for a harmful act, I mean that it is right to punish him for it; primarily, in order that the fear of punishment may prevent him and others from committing similar acts in future.”25

20Leslie Stephen,Science of Ethics, p. 285.

21Martineau,Types of Ethical Theory, ii. 41sq.

22Balfour,Foundations of Belief, p. 25.

23Stuart Mill,Examination of Sir William Hamilton’s Philosophy, p. 506.

24Ibid.p. 506sqq.

25Sidgwick,Methods of Ethics, p. 71sq.

If these conclusions are correct it is obvious that, whether the infliction of punishment be justifiable or not, thefeelingof moral indignation or moral approval is, from the deterministic point of view, absurd. And yet, as a matter of fact, these emotions are felt by determinists and libertarians alike. Apparently, they are not in the least affected by the notion that the human will is subject to the general law of cause and effect. Emotions are always determined by specific cognitions, and last only as long as the influence of those cognitions lasts. It makes me sorry to hear that some evil has befallen a friend; but my sorrow disappears at once when I find that the rumour was false. I get angry with a person who hurts me; but my anger subsides as soon as I recognise that the hurt was purely accidental. My indignation is aroused by anatrocious crime; but it ceases entirely when I hear that the agent was mad. On the other hand, however convinced I am that a person’s conduct and character are in every detail a product of causes, that does not prevent me from feeling towards him retributive emotions—either anger or gratitude, or moral resentment or approval. Hence I conclude that a retributive emotion is not essentially determined by the cognition of free-will. I hold that Spinoza is mistaken in his assumption that men feel more love or hatred towards one another than towards anything else, because they think themselves to be free.26And I attribute the conception that moral valuation is inconsistent with determinism either to a failure to recognise the emotional origin of moral judgments or to insufficient insight into the true nature of the moral emotions. At the same time it seems easy to explain the fallacy which lies at the bottom of that conception.

26Spinoza,Ethica, iii. 49, Note.

We have seen that the object of moral approval and disapproval is the will, and that a person’s responsibility is lessened in proportion as his will is exposed to the pressure of non-volitional conations. Full responsibility thus presupposes freedom from such pressure, and, particularly, freedom from external compulsion. Hence the inference that it also presupposes freedom from causation, and that complete determination involves complete irresponsibility. Compulsion is confounded with causation; and this confusion is due to the fact that the cause which determines the will is actually looked upon in the light of a constraining power outside the will.

The popular mind has a strong belief in the law of cause and effect. When reflecting on the matter, it admits that everything which happens in this world has a cause; and if the natural cause is hidden, it readily calls in a supernatural cause to account for the event. Now, in the case of human volitions the chain of causation is often particularly obscure; as Spinoza said, whilst men are conscious of their volitions and desires, they “never evendream, in their ignorance, of the causes which have disposed them so to wish and desire.”27Hence, when in a philosophic mood, they are liable to attribute their acts to the influence of an external power ruling over human affairs, a god or an all-powerful fate. No doubt, Providence and Fate28may effect their purposes without the will of man as their tool; what happens “by chance,” being frequently no less wonderful than any decree of a human will, may likewise be traced to a supernatural cause. But, on the other hand, the fact that the deeds of men are generally preceded by volitions, is so obvious that it could not escape even the simplest mind—indeed, so strongly are primitive men impressed by this fact that they are apt to attribute every event to a will. Acknowledging, then, the connection between volition and deed, the fatalist regards the former only as an instrument in the hands of a force outside the agent, which compels his will to execute its plans. Sometimes it reaches its goal in a way quite unforeseen by the agent himself. Muhammed said, “When God hath ordered a creature to die in any particular place, He causeth his wants to direct him to that place”;29and it is a popular saying throughout Islam that “whenas Destiny descends she blindeth human sight.”30Sometimes the external power causes its victim to will its decree, by exciting in him some irresistible passion, as when Zeus urged Clytemnestra to the slaughter of Agamemnon; or the volitions of a person are themselves regarded as decreed by that power. In Wärend, in Sweden, when somebody has killed another, as also when the manslayer himself suffers the penalty of death, the women say, full of compassion, “Well, this was his destiny, to be sure,” or “Poor fellow, it was a pitiful fate.”31In one of the Pahlavi texts the following words are put into the mouth of the Spirit ofWisdom:—“Even with the might and powerfulness of wisdom and knowledge, even then it is not possible to contend with destiny. Because, when predestination as to virtue, or as to the reverse, comes forth, the wise becomes wanting in duty, and the astute in evil becomes intelligent; the faint-hearted becomes braver, and the braver becomes faint-hearted; the diligent becomes lazy, and the lazy acts diligently. Just as is predestined as to the matter, the cause enters into it, and thrusts out everything else.”32

27Ibid.pt. i. Appendix.

28In a Pahlavi text fate is defined as “that which is ordained from the beginning,” and divine providence as that which the sacred beings “also grant otherwise” (Dînâ-î Maînôg-î Khirad, xxiv. 6sq.).

29Lane,Arabian Society in the Middle Ages, p. 6.

30Burton, in his translation of theArabian Nights, i. 62, n. 2.

31Hyltén-Cavallius,Wärend och Wirdarne, i. 206.

32Dînâ-î Maînôg-î Khirad, xxiii. 3sqq.

Nor is it only the popular mind that, when human volitions are concerned, interprets causation as compulsion. Even such philosophers as Hamilton33and Mansel34seemed quite unable to distinguish between determinism and fatalism. Professor Laurie likewise observes:—“Determinism is the term adopted of late years to veil fatalism and confound issues…. Freedom or fate, these are the sole alternatives.”35Surely, it is those who identify determinism with fatalism that “confound issues.” And a similar confusion lurks behind the main argument which has been adduced in support of free-will. It is said that “I ought” implies “I can,” and that men are not accountable for what they cannot avoid. This is perfectly true if by “cannot” is meant compulsion, and by “can” freedom from compulsion. But it is certainly not true if “I can” is intended to mean that “I” am a first cause, not determined by anything else.

33Hamilton,Lectures on Metaphysics, ii. 410sqq.

34Mansel,Prolegomena Logica, p. 329sqq.

35Laurie,Ethica, pp. 307, 319.

When a person’s will is believed to be constrained by a power outside him, he can obviously not be held responsible for what he does under the influence of such constraint. We are responsible only for that which is due to our will. A licentious man who has grown up in a corrupt society is less blamable than an equally licentious man who has always lived under conditions favourable to virtue; and if we hear of a criminal that he was kidnapped as a child by a band of pickpockets and trained to their profession, weno doubt look upon him with some indulgence. In these cases, however, it may be said that, though the person’s conduct is largely due to the influence of external circumstances upon his will, this influence was not irresistible, that he might have saved himself with an effort of will, and that consequently he is not wholly irresponsible. But in the case of a restraining destiny no escape is possible; the compulsion is complete. Hence the logical outcome of radical fatalism is a denial of all moral imputability, and a repudiation of all moral judgment.36

36Of the inhabitants of North-Eastern Africa, Munzinger observes (Ostafrikanische Studien, p. 66):—“Seien sie Christen, Heiden, odor Mohammedaner, schreiben sie Leben und Tod, Glück und Unglück, Tugend und Verbrechen der unmittelbaren Hand Gottes zu. Mit dieser blinder Nothwendigkeit entschuldigt sich der Missethäter, tröstet sich der Unglückliche.”Cf.also Doughty,Arabia Deserta, i. 155, on the Bedouins. However, men are not philosophers in the ordinary practice of life, hence the fatalist is generally as ready as anybody else to judge on his neighbour’s conduct. According to various ancient writers, the power of destiny is limited so as not to exclude personal responsibility (see Schmidt,Ethik der alten Griechen, i. 59sq.).

Not so with determinism. Whilst fatalism presupposes the existence of a person who is constrained by an outward power, determinism regards the person himself as in every respect a product of causes. It does not assume any part of his will to have existed previous to his formation by these causes; his will is not constrained by them, it is made by them. When we say of a person that he is influenced by external circumstances or subdued by fate, we regardhimas existing independently of that which influences or subdues him, we attribute to him an innate character which is acted upon from the outside. He would have been different if he had grown up under different conditions of life, or if fate had left him alone. But it would be absolutely meaningless to say that he would be different if the causes to which he owes his existence had been different; for instance, if he were the offspring of different parents. This shows that we distinguish between the original self of a person and the self which is partly innate and partly the product of external circumstances. His innate character belongs to his originalself; and, strictly speaking, it is on the innate character only that the scrutinising moral judge, so far as possible, passes his judgment, carefully considering the degree of pressure to which it has been exposed both from the non-voluntary part of the individual himself and from the outside world.37According to the fatalist, the innate character iscompelled; hence personal responsibility is out of the question. According to the determinist the innate character iscaused; but this has nothing whatever to do with the question of responsibility. The moral emotions are no more concerned with the origin of the innate character than the aesthetic emotions are concerned with the origin of the beautiful object. In their capacity of retributive emotions, the moral emotions are essentially directed towards sensitive and volitional entities conceived, not as uncaused themselves, but only as causes of pleasure or pain.

37That the proper subject of moral judgment is the innate character was emphasised by Schopenhauer in his prize-essays onDie Freiheit des Willens(Sämmtliche Werke, vii. 83sqq.) andDie Grundlage der Moral(ibid.vii. 273sqq.). The innate character, he says, that real core of the whole man, contains the germ of all his virtues and vices. And though Schopenhauer be mistaken in his statement that a person’s character always remains the same, it seems to me indisputable that the succeeding changes to which it may be subject are imputable tohimonly in so far as they are caused by his innate character.

WEhave discussed the general nature of those phenomena which have a tendency to evoke moral blame or moral praise. We have seen that moral judgments are passed on conduct and character, and we have seen why this is the case. It now remains for us to examine the particular modes of conduct which are subject to moral valuation, and to consider how these modes of conduct are judged of by different peoples and in different ages.

If carried out in every detail such an investigation could never come to an end. Among other things, it would have to take into account all customs existing among the various races of men, since every custom constitutes a moral rule. And the impossibility of any such undertaking becomes apparent when we consider the extent to which the conduct of man, and especially of savage man, is hampered by custom. Among the Wanika, for instance, “if a man dares to improve the style of his hut, to make a larger doorway than is customary; if he should wear a finer or different style of dress to that of his fellows, he is instantly fined.”1If, during the performance of a ceremony, the ancestors of an Australian native were in the habit of painting a white line across the forehead, their descendant must do the same.2Dr. Nansen’s statement with reference to the Greenlanders,that their communities had originally customs and fixed rules for every possible circumstance,3is essentially true of many, if not all, of the lower races.

1New,Life, Wanderings, and Labours in Eastern Africa, p. 110.

2Spencer and Gillen,Native Tribes of Central Australia, p. 11.

3Nansen,Eskimo Life, p. 104.

It is necessary, then, that we should restrict ourselves to the more important modes of conduct with which the moral consciousness of mankind is concerned. These modes of conduct may be conveniently divided into six groups. The first group includes such acts, forbearances, and omissions as directly concern the interests of other men, their life or bodily integrity, their freedom, honour, property, and so forth. The second includes such acts, forbearances, and omissions as chiefly concern a man’s own welfare, such as suicide, temperance, asceticism. The third group, which partly coincides with, but partly differs from, both the first and the second, refers to the sexual relations of men. The fourth includes their conduct towards the lower animals; the fifth, their conduct towards dead persons; the sixth, their conduct towards beings, real or imaginary, that they regard as supernatural. We shall examine each of these groups separately, in the above order. And, not being content with a mere description of facts, we shall try to discover the principle which lies at the bottom of the moral judgment in each particular case.

It is commonly maintained that the most sacred duty which we owe our fellow-creatures is to respect their lives. I venture to believe that this holds good not only among civilised nations, but among the lower races as well; and that, if a savage recognises that he has any moral obligations at all to his neighbours, he considers the taking of their lives to be a greater wrong than any other kind of injury inflicted upon them.

Among various uncivilised peoples, however, human life is said to be held very cheap.

The Australian Dieyerie, we are told, would for a mere trifle kill their dearest friend.4In Fiji there is an “utter disregard ofthe value of human life.”5A Masai will murder his friend or neighbour in a fight over a herd of captured cattle, and “live not a whit the less merrily afterwards.”6Among the Bachapins, a Bechuana tribe, murder “excites little sensation, excepting in the family of the person who has been murdered; and brings, it is said, no disgrace upon him who has committed it; nor uneasiness, excepting the fear of their revenge.”7The Oráons of Bengal “are ready to take life on very slight provocation,” and Colonel Dalton doubts whether they see any moral guilt in it.8Some of the Himalayan mountaineers are reported to put men to death merely for the satisfaction of seeing the blood flow and of marking the last struggles of the victim.9Among the Pathans, on the north-western frontier of the Punjab, “there is hardly a man whose hands are unstained,” and each person “counts up his murders.”10

4Gason, ‘Manners and Customs of the Dieyerie Tribe,’ in Woods,Native Tribes of South Australia, p. 258.

5Williams and Calvert,Fiji and the Fijians, p. 115.

6Johnston,Kilima-njaro Expedition, p. 419.

7Burchell,Travels in the Interior of Southern Africa, ii. 554.

8Dalton,Descriptive Ethnology of Bengal, p. 256.

9Fraser,Journal of a Tour through the Himālā Mountains, p. 267.

10Temple, quoted by Spencer,Principles of Ethics, i. 343. For other instances of the indifference of savages to human life, see Egede,Description of Greenland, p. 123; Cranz,History of Greenland, i. 177; Holm, ‘Ethnologisk Skizze af Angmagsalikerne,’ inMeddeleser om Grönland, x. 87, 179sq.; Coxe,Russian Discoveries between Asia and America, p. 257 (Aleuts of Unalaska); Krasheninnikoff,History of Kamtschatka, p. 204; Steller,Beschreibung von dem Lande Kamtschatka, p. 294; Boyle,Adventures among the Dyaks of Borneo, p. 116 (Malays); Powell,Wanderings in a Wild Country, p. 262 (aborigines of New Britain); Scaramucci and Giglioli, ‘Notizie sui Danakil,’ inArchivio per antropologia e la etnologia, xiv. 26; Wilson and Felkin,Uganda, ii. 310 (Gowane); Schweinfurth,Heart of Africa, i. 286 (Bongo); Arnot,Garenganze, p. 71 (Barotse); Tuckey,Expedition to Explore the River Zaire, p. 383 (Congo natives); Waul,Five Years with the Congo Cannibals, p. 105 (Bolobo).

On the other hand, there are uncivilised peoples among whom homicide or murder is said to be hardly known.

Among the Omahas, “before liquor was introduced there were no murders, even when men quarrelled.”11Captain Lyon could learn of no instances of manslaughter having ever occurred among the Eskimo of Igloolik.12In Tutuila, of the Samoa group, according to Brenchley, there had been but one case of assassination in the course of twenty years.13The Veddahs of Ceylon know of manslaughter only as a punishment.14The Bedouin of the Euphrates, says Mr. Blunt, “is essentially humane, and never takes life needlessly. If he has killed a man in war he rather conceals the fact than proclaims it aloud, while murder or even homicide is almost unknown among the tribes.”15Among the Bakwiri, in Cameroon, Zoller never heard of any person having killed a member of his own community.16Murders, says Caillié, “are rare among the Bambaras, and never committed by the Mandingoes.”17Among the Wanika “wilful cold-blooded murders are almost unknown.”18Among the Basutos perfect safety is enjoyed “on roads where the traveller might have been robbed a hundred times over without the least hope of aid, and in houses where the doors and windows have neither bolts nor bars,” and cases of murder are very rare.19

11Dorsey, ‘Omaha Sociology,’ inAnn. Rep. Bur. Ethn.iii. 369.

12Lyon,Private Journal, p. 350.

13Brenchley,Jottings during the Cruise of H.M.S. “Curaçoa” among the South Sea Islands, p. 58.

14Sarasin,Ergebnisse naturwissenschaftlicher Forschungen auf Ceylon, iii. 539.Cf.Tennent,Ceylon, ii. 444. Hartshorne, inIndian Antiquary, viii. p. 320.

15Blunt,Bedouin Tribes of the Euphrates, ii. 203.Cf.ibid.ii. 207.

16Zöller,Kamerun, i. 188.

17Caillié,Travels through Central Africa, i. 353.

18New,op. cit.p. 98.

19Casalis,Basutos, p. 301. For other instances, see Hall,Arctic Researches, p. 571 (Eskimo); Dobrizhoffer,Account of the Abipones, ii. 148; Turner,Samoa, p. 178; Ellis,Tour through Hawaii, p. 429; Brooke,Ten Years in Saráwak, i. 61 (Sea Dyaks); Low,Sarawak, p. 133; Marsden,History of Sumatra, p. 471 (Poggi Islanders); Steller,De Sangi-Archipel, p. 26; Riedel,De sluik- en kroesharige rassen tusschen Selebes en Papua, p. 41 (Ambon and Uliase Islanders); von Siebold,Aino auf der Insel Yesso, pp. 11, 35; Munzinger,Ostafrikanische Studien, p. 532 (Barea and Kunáma); Holub,Seven Years in South Africa, ii. 319 (Marutse); Maclean,Compendium of Kafir Laws and Customs, pp. 61, 143sq.; Shooter,Kafirs of Natal, p. 137.

In other instances homicide is expressly said to be regarded as wrong.

The Greenlanders described by Dr. Nansen hold it atrocious to kill a fellow-creature, except in some particular cases.20The Dacotahs say that it is a great crime to take their fellow’s life, unless in revenge, “because all have a right to live.”21In Tierra del Fuego homicide rarely occurs, as Mr. Bridges remarks, because of an inveterate custom according to which human life is held sacred: “le meurtrier est mis au ban de ses compatriotes; isolé de tous, il est fatalement condamné à périr de faim ou à tomber un jour sous les coups d’un groupe de justiciers improvisés.”22The Andaman Islanders condemn murder asyūbda, or sin.23The natives of Botany Bay, NewSouth Wales, though a trivial offence in their ideas justifies the murder of a man, “highly reprobate the crime when committed without what they esteem a just cause.”24According to Mr. Curr’s experience, the Australian Black undoubtedly feels that murder is wrong, and its committal brings remorse; even after the perpetration of infanticide or massacres, though both are practised without disguise, those engaged in them are subject to remorse and low spirits for some time.25

20Nansen,Eskimo Life, p. 162.

21Prescott, in Schoolcraft,Indian Tribes of the United States, ii. 195.

22Hyades and Deniker,Mission scientifique du Cap Horn, vii. 374, 243.

23Man, inJour. Anthr. Inst.xii. 112.

24Barrington,History of New South Wales, p. 19.Cf.Lumholtz,Among Cannibals, p. 126 (natives of Northern Queensland).

25Curr,The Australian Race, i. 100, 43sq.For other instances, see Keating,Expedition to the Source of St. Peter’s River, i. 127 (Potawatomis); Harmon,Journal of Voyages in the Interior of North America, p. 348 (Indians on the east side of the Rocky Mountains); Hall,Arctic Researches, p. 572 (Eskimo); Mariner,Natives of the Tonga Islands, ii. 162; Macdonald,Oceania, p. 208 (Efatese); Yate,Account of New Zealand, p. 145; Arbousset and Daumas,Exploratory Tour to the North-East of the Colony of the Cape of Good Hope, p. 322 (Bechuanas); Fritsch,Die Eingeborenen Süd-Afrikra’s, p. 322 (Hottentots).

It is of particular importance in this connection to note that, in early civilisation, blood-revenge is regarded not as a private matter only, but as a duty, and that, where this custom does not prevail, the community punishes the murderer, frequently with death. We may without hesitation accept Professor Tylor’s statement that “no known tribe, however low and ferocious, has ever admitted that men may kill one another indiscriminately.”26In every society—even where human life is, generally speaking, held in low estimation—custom prohibits homicide within a certain circle of men. But the radius of the circle varies greatly.

26Tylor, ‘Primitive Society,’ inContemporary Review, xxi. 714.

Savages carefully distinguish between an act of homicide committed within their own community and one where the victim is a stranger. Whilst the former is under ordinary circumstances disapproved of, the latter is in most cases allowed, and often regarded as praiseworthy. It is a very common notion in savage ethics that the chief virtue of a man is to be successful in war and to slay many enemies.

Among the Káfirs of the Hindu-Kush “killing strangers might or might not be considered inexpedient, but it wouldhardly be considered a crime”; killing fellow-tribesmen, on the other hand, is looked upon in a very different light.27The Koriaks do not regard murder as a great crime, unless it occur within their own tribe.28The early Aleuts considered the killing of a companion a crime worthy of death, “but to kill an enemy was quite another thing.”29To an Aht Indian the murder of a man is no more than the killing of a dog, provided that the victim is not a member of his own tribe.30According to Humboldt, the natives of Guiana “detest all who are not of their family, or their tribe; and hunt the Indians of a neighbouring tribe, who live at war with their own, as we hunt game.”31In the opinion of the Fuegians, “a stranger and an enemy are almost synonymous terms,” hence they dare not go where they have no friends, and where they are unknown, as they would most likely be destroyed.32The Australian Black nurtures an intense hatred of every male at least of his own race who is a stranger to him, and would never neglect to assassinate such a person at the earliest moment that he could do so without risk to himself.33In Melanesia, also, a stranger as such was generally throughout the islands an enemy to be killed.34

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