C. D. Broad, Mind and Its Place in Nature , 1925

     

CHAPTER XI

Ethical Arguments for Human Survival

     It has been held by many philosophers that all arguments from "value" to "fact" or from "ought" to "is" are necessarily invalid. I have certainly expressed this view myself from time to time. I believe now that this is not true without qualification; and that, if certain conditions be fulfilled, such arguments are not necessarily fallacious. Whether any of them in fact succeed in proving their conclusions is of course another matter. I will, therefore, begin by discussing in general terms the question whether such arguments can ever be valid, and, if so, what conditions an argument of this kind must fulfil in order not to be logically fallacious.

The Logical Status of Ethical Arguments with Factual Conclusions.

     An ethical argument is one that uses at least one ethical premise; we must, therefore, begin by explaining what is meant by an "ethical premise". I assume at the outset that there are certain purely ethical characteristics, i.e., characteristics which cannot be identified with or defined in terms of non-ethical or "natural" characteristics. I should consider that the characteristics of being "intrinsically good" or "right" or "a duty" are examples of purely ethical characteristics. Now presumably some ethical characteristics are simple and indefinable, whilst others can be analysed and defined in terms of other ethical characteristics. E.g., some people have held that a "right action" may be defined as "an action which has as good consequences as any action which is possible to the agent". Again, even when an ethical characteristic is not definable, there may be synthetic propositions about its properties or about its connexions with other ethical characteristics. E.g., we may say that the goodness of a whole is not necessarily the sum of the goodness which each of its parts would have in isolation. Again, we might hold that both "good" and "right" are indefinable, and yet accept the synthetic proposition that no action is right which does not have at least as good consequences as any action which is possible for the agent. I think that I can now define what I mean by a "purely ethical proposition". It will be a proposition which either

  1. states that a certain ethical characteristic (e.g., "good") is indefinable; or
  2. analyses it in terms of other ethical characteristics; or
  3. states some intrinsic property of an ethical characteristic (e.g., that it is quantitative, that it is not simply additive, etc.); or
  4. states some synthetic connexion between two or more ethical characteristics.

      Now I think that it is certain that no argument all of whose premises are purely ethical propositions can lead to a factual conclusion. But I am very doubtful whether anyone has ever used such an argument. Now there are other propositions which involve ethical characteristics, which I will call "mixed ethical propositions". These assert a synthetic connexion between an ethical characteristic and one or more non-ethical characteristics. I will give some examples.

All these are mixed ethical propositions; the first being true, the second highly probable, and the third certainly false. Mixed ethical propositions can always be put into one of the two forms: Any ethical argument with a factual conclusion must contain a mixed ethical premise of the first kind in order to be logically valid.

     We can now go a step further. The mixed ethical premise is essentially hypothetical? The conclusion is categorical. It follows that one premise must be categorical, if the argument is to be logically valid. And it is plain that the categorical premise must be of the form:

We can then conclude that something does have the non-ethical characteristic N. I have now stated what Mr Johnson would call the "constitutive conditions" for the validity of such arguments. We must now consider what he would call the "epistemic conditions". If the argument is not to be circular we must be able to know
  1. that if anything had E it would have N, and
  2. that something has E, without having to know beforehand that something has N.

     We may divide up ethical arguments on two different principles, thus getting four different kinds of ethical argument which might possibly be valid.

  1. The ethical characteristic under consideration might be "good", or it might be "right" or "duty".
  2. The factual premise might take the form "Something has E" or the more determinate form "This has E". E.g., it might take the form "Some actions are right" or "This action is right".
Of course the latter entails the former. But it is plain that the argument is stronger if it only has to use the milder premise. We might be pretty certain that some actions which have been performed have been right, but doubtful whether any particular action which was brought to our notice was right.

     This seems to me to be about as much as we can say about the general question of whether ethical arguments with factual conclusions can ever be logically valid. We have seen that they can be if they fulfil certain conditions, and we have stated exactly what those conditions are. I propose now to give an example of an ethical argument which seems to me to fulfil the conditions and to prove its conclusion. I think that Kant's Aargument from duty to freedom is a case in point. It may be put as follows.

"If it can ever be truly said that it is a duty to perform (or to avoid) an act, it must have been possible for the agent to perform it and possible for him not to perform it. Now there are some acts of which it is true to say that they ought to have been done (or avoided). Hence there are some acts which their agent could have performed and could have avoided."
It is plain that this argument fulfils the constitutive conditions. It seems to me clear that the ethical premise can be known to be true by merely reflecting on the conceptions of "duty" and of "possibility", and that it is not necessary to know beforehand that some acts which have been done could have been avoided or that some acts which have been avoided could have been done. So that the first epistemic condition is fulfilled. I am also inclined to believe that we can know that the characteristics "ought" and "ought not" have application without having to know before hand that some actions which are done could have been avoided, and that some actions which have been avoided could have been done. It is difficult to be sure of this because every one does in practice believe the conclusion of Kant's argument. Assuming that the above statement is true, Kant's argument fulfils the second epistemic condition, and proves its conclusion. Unfortunately the only conclusion which it certainly proves is not of much interest. It no doubt makes it almost certain that we are in some sense "free" in some of our voluntary actions. But it is not in the least certain that the "freedom" required is inconsistent with determinism. And we could have reached the conclusion that we are "free" in several very important senses without appealing to ethical arguments at all. It seems to me doubtful whether Kant's ethical argument proves that we are "free" in any sense of "freedom" which could not have been established by direct inspection; and all these senses seem to me to be probably consistent with complete determinism.

     I will now give an example of an ethical argument which seems to me obviously to fail to fulfil the conditions and to be invalid. We might argue as follows. "Unless God existed it would not be our duty to address private prayers to him. It is our duty to address private prayers to God. Therefore God must exist." (I put in the qualification "private", because it might be my duty to address public prayers to God, even if he does not exist and I do not believe that he exists, if the State of which I am a member orders its citizens to do so by an act which has been properly introduced, discussed, and passed into law.) Now the above argument seems to me to break the second epistemic condition. I do not think that it could possibly be maintained that I can know that it is my duty to address private prayers to God unless I already know that God exists. Hence this ethical argument for the existence of God would be circular.

Professor Taylor's Arguments for Immortality.

     Now that we understand the logic of ethical arguments for factual conclusions we can consider the special ethical arguments for human survival. These arguments have been stated in many forms. Fortunately the essence of them has been put with admirable persuasiveness, brevity, and clearness by Professor A. E. Taylor in an article called "The Moral Argument for Immortality" in the Holborn Review. As I have no expectation of seeing the case put better than Professor Taylor puts it there, I will take this article as the text for my discussion. I think that the article contains two distinct arguments, though Professor Taylor passes from the first to the second without definitely saying that he is making a transition.

The Argument from Duty.

     Crudely stated, the first argument comes to this. If we and all the human race will eventually die, certain acts which it would be our duty to do on the opposite alternative will not be duties. And certain other acts, which it would be wrong to do if we were immortal, would be harmless and reasonable enough if the lives of ourselves and our fellows are limited to the three-score years and ten which we spend in this mortal body. The duties of a Christian are the right and reasonable behaviour of a man who is going to survive the death of his body; they are not right or reasonable if we die with our bodies. The reasonable course of life on the latter alternative would be that which is sketched for us in Horace's Odes. Now we know that it is right for us to live in accordance with the Christian ethics, and that it is wrong to live in accordance with the Horatian ethnic. Since the latter mode of life would not be wrong if we were mortal, we can conclude that we are not mortal. I will deal with this argument first.

     It is not in tne least necessary for the argument to assume that the Christian ethics are wholly right or the Horatian ethics wholly wrong. I must confess that it seems to me that Professor Taylor allows much too much to the Horatian ethics, even on the assumption of human mortality. He seems to suggest that, if we all die with our bodies, the only reasonable course of action is to enjoy the passing hour. I should have supposed that, even if the belief that I and the race will perish makes it unreasonable for me to trouble about anything but my own pleasure, the reasonable course of life for me might be very different from that which Horace recommends. If champagne gives me a headache I shall be foolish to take too much of it merely because I am mortal. And my mortality will surely not make it my duty to "sport with Amaryllis in the shade" if I find the society of Amaryllis and all her kindred an intolerable bore. If I happen to prefer philosophy, or scientific research, or charity-organisation, to dinner parties, race-meetings, and night-clubs, there seems to be no reason why I should not indulge these tastes as much as any immortal spirit. Professor Taylor admits that Horace's Odes do not make very cheerful reading; surely this may be due, not simply to the fact that Horace believed himself to be mortal, but also to the fact that he acted unreasonably even for a mortal being whose sole aim is to maximise his own happiness. In a good many people the passion for scientific research, for artistic production, or for the construction of engineering works and the organisation of businesses, is extremely strong and largely disinterested. The Horatian scheme forgets these facts. If a man wishes to provide himself with sources of pleasure that will ensure a quiet but strong happiness over the greater part of his life, rather than a few spasms of enjoyment in the earlier part of it followed by years of boredom, he will be most unwise to adopt the "fleeting-hour" plan even if he believes himself to be mortal. His wisest course will be, not indeed to neglect bodily pleasures in the earlier years of his life, but at any rate to indulge in them only to such an extent as will not interfere with the acquirement of sources of quieter but more permanent happiness which can be enjoyed when gout has forbidden port and a failing digestion has vetoed oysters.

     Thus, even if we die with our bodies, and if this implies that it is only reasonable to do what will give us pleasure, this will not necessarily make the right and reasonable line of conduct for most of us very different (though it will be somewhat different from that of a convinced Christian. But of course the mere fact, if it be a fact, that we are mortal has no tendency to make it right to consider only our own pleasure. Suppose that I and all other men are mortal, this will not alter the fact that, so long as they and I are alive, some states of mind, such as the appreciative hearing of good music, are better than others, such as enjoyment of another's pain. Nor will it alter the fact that it largely depends on our present actions whether I, my contemporaries, and a long series of successors shall experience the one kind of state or the other. Whether we are mortal or not it will still be our duty, I suppose, not to produce a worse state when we can produce a better; not to treat our own pleasure, simply because it is ours, as more important than the pleasure of others; and not to show favouritism in the distribution of those materials for a good life which are at our disposal. Thus the duties of Justice, Rational Benevolence, and Prudence remain duties on either hypothesis.

     Professor Taylor says that he assumes that "the highest goods are roughly the discovery and knowledge of truth, the attainment and exercise of virtue, and the creation and fruition of beauty". To these he later on adds the relation of love between persons. "All other goods," he says, "are secondary and insignificant as compared with these." I have no quarrel with these statements. The question is whether it would cease to be rational to strive for these goods if we believed that all human beings are mortal and that the race will eventually die out. So far as I can see, the only argument which Professor Taylor uses to support this view is that, on this hypothesis, it will make no permanent difference whether we pursue these goods or not. Now I agree that this consequence follows from the assumption that the race will eventually die out. And I agree that it is practically certain that the race will die out unless some individual members of it are immortal. Finally, I agree (subject to certain qualifications which I will mention in a moment) that, if no goods that we can produce are permanent, the world is a poor thing The qualifications which I have to make are these.

  1. Although every species of intelligent beings may last only for a finite time, yet there might always be some species of intelligent beings existing. And the scientific discoveries and artistic treasures of the human race might be capable of being known and appreciated by the race of intelligent beings whose sun is rising while the sun of the human race is setting. On this hypothesis all values which consist in relations between human beings, or which are stored up in the characters of human beings, would indeed be lost; but a good deal would be saved out of the wreck. The hypothesis which I am suggesting is analogous to what has happened many times in the history of the earth, when one race (e.g., the Greeks) has flowered and decayed, and eventually another race has found inspiration in their artistic, literary, and scientific productions.
  2. Professor Taylor holds that, if all the values which the human race has created die with it and are not continued by some other race, the world is very evil. This seems to me to be too harsh a judgment; all that is justified is that the world is not very good. Suppose that there have not been and never will be any intelligent beings except men, and that the human race lasts for ten million years, reaching a maximum of virtue, happiness, and knowledge, at some intermediate date and then degenerating. On this hypothesis no part of the history of the world before the beginning of this period, and no part of its history after this period, has any intrinsic value. All intrinsic valueJ positive and negative, is crowded into this ten million years; and this period is no doubt but a moment in the total life of the universe. We must remember, however, that if there is no intrinsic goodness outside these limits of time, there is also no intrinsic evil. Ethically, all but the ten million years may be wiped out; and the moral character of the universe will stand or fall simply by the balance of good or evil within this ten million years. If there be a balance of good in that period, the universe may be called slightly good; if there be a balance of evil, it may be called slightly bad. But, however great the balance one way or the other within this period, we cannot call the universe as a whole very good or very bad, because the period during which any moral predicate can be applied is such a vanishingly small part of the total history of the universe.

     After this explanatory digression I return to the main question. Supposing that there will come a time when all our scientific knowledge will be lost, when all our artistic productions will have ceased to exist or will have ceased to be contemplated and admired by any conscious being, and when all the values which are stored up in personal character and in human relationships will have vanished with the human beings who owned them, does it follow that it is irrational for us here and now to pursue those goods and to sacrifice other kinds of pleasure in order to attain them? I cannot see that it does. Let us begin by taking an analogy within a single three-score years and ten. It is certain that no doctor can prevent me from eventually dying. Does this render it irrational for me to go to a doctor if I have an illness in the prime of life, in the hope that he will cure me and enable me to live for many more years in comfort to myself and in useful activities and valuable personal relations to others? Surely it does not. Now, if it is rational to seek to be cured of an illness, though eventually some illness is certain to be fatal to me, why is it irrational for me to seek to enlarge scientific knowledge and to produce beautiful objects, though eventually a time will come when this knowledge will be lost and these objects will no longer be contemplated? The human race has probably a very long course before it, and I can certainly affect for better or worse the lives of countless generations of future men. I cannot see the least reason to think that, because the course of human history is not endless, it ceases to be my duty to do what I can to assure to these future generations decent social conditions, clear scientific knowledge which they can build upon and extend, and beautiful objects which they can admire and use as an inspiration for the production of yet more beautiful objects. That it sill all come to an end eventually is a tragedy; but this tragedy seems to make no difference to my duty here and now. If you like, it lowers the worth of every kind of activity; but it does not, as far as I can see, alter the relative values of various alternative kinds of activity.

     No doubt, if one's duties are affected at all by matters of fact, one very important fact which will influence them is the particular place and time within the cosmic process in which one's lot happens to be cast. It would be irrational to start an elaborate scheme of social reform. Or a three-volume novel, or a treatise on the theory of functions, if there were reason to expect that the world was coming to an end next week. At least it would be foolish on any other motive than the enjoyment of the activity itself. But it is not obviously foolish, if there be a prospect of a long series of human generations between oneself and the twilight of the earth, so to act that they may have fine works of art, profound scientific speculations, and the opportunity to live in a reasonably ordered community. Even if men were immortal and the human race destined to last for ever, it is certain that my scientific speculations will become obsolete and my artistic productions unintelligible. If they will be appreciated by myself and my contemporaries and will form a basis from which my successors will be able to build something better, it is rational for me to occupy myself in these activities. I am quite prepared to admit that, if the race is going to die out, the duties of a man who is born some millions of years hence may be very different from my duties, and very different from the duties which would be incumbent on him if he believed in immortality. If it were certain that the race had passed its prime, and that nothing now awaited it but a hopeless struggle with an increasingly unfavourable environment, the main duty of a good man might be to preach and to practice contraception and infanticide. But I do deny that the question of mortality or immortality makes any appreciable difference to the duties of a man here and now; and the fact that it will make a great difference to the duties of a man born some millions of years hence seems to me to be irrelevant.

     It seems to me, then, that the difference between the duties of a Christian and the duties of a man of the present time who believes that he and his fellows are mortal are not nearly so great as has been represented. No doubt there are considerable differences; but these depend on the fact that certain details of the Christian ethics are accepted by Christians on the authority of a supposed divine revelation. Differences of this kind are irrelevant to the present argument, for the following reasons.

  1. It is needless to prove to Christians that they are immortal from the special features of their ethical system, for they already believe that they are immortal on the same authority on which they accept these special duties. On the other hand, in arguing with non-Christians it is useless to take as the basis for your argument special duties which, since they are believed to be duties only on the authority of the Christian revelation, will not be regarded by non-Christians as duties at all.
  2. In any case differences of this kind will not be relevant to the argument for immortality. We must find some difference in our duties which depends simply and solely on the question whether we are or are not mortal, if we are to base an argument for immortality on our supposed knowledge of what it is our duty to do. What I have tried to do so far is to show that it is by no means clear that there are any duties which fulfil the two conditions of being regarded as binding by virtuous disbelievers in immortality, and of not really being binding unless we are immortal.

     It would be enough, however, for Professor Taylor's purpose if a single act can be found which is admitted to be a duty by all competent judges, and would not be a duty if we were mortal. Now, although I do not know of any act which fulfils these conditions here and now, it would be rash to assert that there may not be at least one. Let us assume then, as a hypothesis, that a clear case of such a duty can be produced; and let us then ask whether we should be justified in concluding that we are immortal.

     It is plain that the argument fulfils the necessary constitutive conditions. It would run as follows.

"I know it is my duty to perform actions of a certain kind. I can show that it would not be my duty to perform such actions unless I were immortal. Therefore I can conclude that I am immortal."
The question is whether the argument could fulfil the necessary epistemic conditions. If the argument is to be epistemically valid I must be able to know that so-and-so is my duty without having to know beforehand whether I am mortal or immortal. Now I am extremely doubtful whether the epistemic condition can be fulfilled. Either my duty depends on circumstances or it does not. If it does, how can I know what it is until I know the circumstances in which I am placed? And a very important circumstance will be whether I am mortal or immortal. Thus, if my duty does depend on circumstances, it seems to me almost incredible that I can know what it is while I am ignorant of the relevant circumstances. Now, by hypothesis, the question whether I am or am not mortal, is highly relevant in connexion with the duty on which the argument is based. If, then, my duty does depend upon circumstances, and the question of my mortality or immortality is highly relevant to the question whether so-and-so is my duty or not, I find it hard to believe that I could be certain that so-and-so is my duty at times when I am uncertain whether I am mortal or immortal. I fully admit that there is no logical impossibility here; but I have the gravest doubts whether any actual instance could be produced. If, on the other hand, my duty be independent of circumstances, then there is of course no difficulty in supposing that I can know that so-and-so is my duty at times when I do not know whether I am or am not mortal. But then the other half of the argument will break down. If it be my duty to do so-and-so regardless of circumstances, it will be my duty to do it whether I be mortal or not; and, therefore, the fact that it is my duty to do it will not enable me to decide between these two alternatives.

     I will now try to state as shortly as possible what I do and what I do not think that I have proved.

  1. I have not proved that there is any logical incoherence in Professor Taylor's argument. It is theoretically possible, so far as I can see, that an instance might be produced fulfilling all the conditions which the argument requires.
  2. I have tried to make these conditions explicit, and I will now sum them up. In trying to prove to a man M by this argument that he is immortal it is necessary to find some action which fulfils the following conditions.
    1. M recognises it to be his duty.
    2. It would not be M's duty unless M were in fact immortal.
    3. M can know that it is his duty without having to know beforehand whether he is immortal or not, in spite of the fact that it can he his duty only if he is in fact immortal.
  3. I have tried to show that it is uncertain whether any action can be suggested at the present time which fulfils conditions (a) and (b). And I have tried further to show that, even if an action could be produced that fulfils (a) and (b), it is most unlikely that it would fulfil (c) also.

The Argument that the World would be very evil unless Men are immortal.

     This is plainly a different argument from that which we have just been considering. The first argument took as its premise that we have certain duties and that these would not be obligatory on us if we were mortal. The present argument is of the following form.

"If we and all men die with our bodies the world is very evil. The world is not so evil as this. Therefore some men, at any rate, are immortal."
Professor Taylor does not directly discuss this argument. But he has a good deal of importance to say about it. In the first place, he incidentally uses an argument, which seems to me to be invalid in the present connexion, to suggest that the world is not so evil as it seems. Secondly, he argues in considerable detail, not that it is false that the world is very evil, but that it is inconsistent for a scientist to hold that it is so. I will first consider the argument for myself, and will then consider Professor Taylor's remarks about it.

     I think that the argument under discussion could take two forms, one of which applies more directly to the individual than the other. The first form is this.

"Men often die quite suddenly at the height of their powers, and other men die when their full powers are not developed. If such men do not survive the death of their bodies they are treated with gross injustice. If there were such injustice the universe would be very evil. Now the universe is not so evil as this Hence such men do not really die with the death of their bodies."
If such an argument were valid at all, it would not directly prove that all men survive the death of their bodies or that any man is immortal. Some men seem to be provided in this life with ample opportunities to display the best that is in them, and to display nothing that is worth preserving. And it is not obvious that any man needs unending time to display all his powers to the utmost. If you answer that every man may have valuable characteristics which need only favourable conditions to develop, and that we cannot be sure that any man could develop his full powers in a finite time, the answer is true but irrelevant. We can argue only from what we know to be true, not from what we do not know to be false.

     I have already stated the other form of the argument. I will begin by making some comments on the first premise and the conclusion. For reasons already given the first premise needs to be stated in a more guarded form. We must not suppose merely that all human beings are mortal and that the race will eventually die out. We must also suppose that there will not be other races of intelligent beings who will be able to take over, appreciate, and develop the science and art of the human race, as one nation of human beings has often done with the science and art of another nation which has died out. If there always will be such intelligent beings, though none of them are immortal, the world need not be very evil; though I think it would be less good than it would be if some individuals, human or non-human, were immortal. Secondly, I am not prepared to say that the world would be very evil even on the more detailed hypothesis that there will be no other races of intelligent beings related to the human race in the way suggested. I am prepared to say only that the world would not be very good on this hypothesis. It is worth while to remark that the world might be very much worse on the hypothesis of immortality than on the hypothesis of mortality. If all human beings be immortal, and most human beings spend eternity in Hell, it seems to me that the world will be very evil; much more evil than it would be on the hypothesis of universal mortality. In fact immortality is a necessary condition (on the present restricted hypothesis) for very great good or very great evil. But it is quite neutral between the two. So much for the first premise of the present argument.

      About the conclusion I have to make the same remark as I made about the conclusion of the first form of the argument. So far as I can see, the argument would not prove that every one is immortal; it would prove only that some men must be so. It would be quite consistent with the view that no one who has existed up to the present date is immortal, or that only a small proportion of the men who are alive at any date are immortal.

     It now remains to consider the second premise, which is common to the two forms of this argument. Two conditions must be fulfilled if the argument is to be valid.

  1. It must be true that the world is better than it would be if all human beings were mortal. And
  2. we must be able to know this without having to know beforehand whether all men are mortal or not.
It is this second and epistemic condition which renders a perfectly true observation of Professor Taylor's completely irrelevant to the present purpose. He supposes an objector to say that, on the face of it, there is a great deal of evil in the world; and, since the world contains so much evil anyhow, we can feel no confidence that it may not be evil enough to be consistent with universal mortality. To this he answers that a great deal in the world which seems to be very evil would be trivial if we are immortal. This is no doubt true; but it is surely quite irrelevant. If we knew independently that we were immortal this would be a perfectly good argument against the pessimist. But, when we are trying to prove that we are immortal, we must surely take the world at its face-value and not import considerations which depend on the hypothesis that we are immortal. Whether we are immortal or not it is certain that pain and cruelty exist, and it is certain that they are intrinsically evil. If we are immortal, they may have a great instrumental value which they will not have if we are mortal. But we have no right to assume either that they do or that they do not have this instrumental value when we are trying to prove that we are immortal; the question of their possible instrumental value must here be dismissed as simply irrelevant. It is perhaps worth while to add that, if we are to play fast and loose with our data in this way at all, we may as well do it in one direction as in another. Whether we are immortal or not it is certain that love and pity exist, and it is certain that they are intrinsically good. But intrinsically good states sometimes have bad consequences; and, if we are immortal, they may have a great instrumental disvalue which they will not have if we are mortal.

     For my own part I believe the objection which Professor Taylor is here trying to answer is a perfectly valid one. There certainly is some evil, and I do not know of any general principle by which we could decide, e.g., that toothache is not too bad to be true whilst universal mortality is too bad to be true. Perhaps there may be some general principle which would enable us to draw a line somewhere, if only we knew it. But, so far as I can see, we are not acquainted with any such principle and have not the least idea where this line is to be drawn.

The alleged Inconsistency between holding that the World is "rational" and denying that it is "righteous".

     Professor Taylor imagines the case of a scientist who should argue as follows. "I see that it is my duty to act in such and such a way. I also know from my study of natural science that the efforts of the human race will all come to naught in the end, whether we do what is right or what is wrong. So much the worse for Nature. It is a fact that it has at a certain stage produced beings who can distinguish between right and wrong and be guided in their actions by this distinction. Such beings can judge the cosmic process and condemn it as indifferent to, and in the end destructive of, all that is valuable. It is a fact that, if men survived the death of their bodies, there would be at least a chance that their efforts and experiences might be of some permanent value. But we have no right to think that this provides any reason for holding that men will survive bodily death; what ought to be and what is fall into two utterly different spheres, and we cannot argue from the former to the latter. Their sole connexion is that the world of what is has, under temporary and exceptional circumstances, thrown up for a moment beings who can contemplate the world of what ought to be, and can criticise from its standards the material world which has made and will soon break its critics."

     Now I understand Professor Taylor's position to be that there is a positive inconsistency in a scientist who combines the view that the world is "rational", in the sense of being coherent enough to be a possible object of scientific knowledge, with the view that it is "irrational", in the sense of being indifferent or hostile to what we know to be ethically valuable. Now we must at the outset distinguish two very different cases.

  1. That the two propositions: " The world is logically coherent" and: "The world is ethically incoherent" are mutually inconsistent. And
  2. that I should be inconsistent if I believed both of them.
The distinction may be illustrated as follows. There is no inconsistency between the two propositions: "Smith is in the dining room" and: "Jones is not in the dining-room". But, if my sole ground for any determinate belief about the position of either is that the housemaid has told me that both are in the dining-room, I shall be inconsistent if I assert that Smith is there and deny that Jones is there. I think it is certain that Professor Taylor claims to prove only the second kind of inconsistency. I will, however, deal with the first before I consider Professor Taylor's arguments for the second.

     (a) It seems to me quite plain that there is no in consistency between the two statements that the world obeys the laws of logic and that it breaks the laws of ethics. There appears to be an inconsistency only because of a confusion between two senses of "law" and two senses of "breaking". Murders are committed from time to time; and this, in a sense, conflicts with the moral law: "Thou shalt do no murder". But it conflicts simply in the sense that something happens which the law asserts to be wrong. It does not conflict with the law in the sense that it is inconsistent with its truth. If every one always and everywhere committed murders, this would not have the least bearing on the fact that murder is wrong, if it be a fact. At most it might make it harder for us to recognise this law. To say then that the world breaks the laws of ethics means only that it contains a great deal of evil; and, since the laws of ethics make no assertion whatever about the amount of evil which may exist, there is not the slightest intellectual incoherence between this fact and the laws of ethics. There is therefore no difficulty whatever that I can see in believing both that these laws are true and that they are very often or even always broken.

     Let us now see what would be meant by saying that the world never breaks the laws of logic. This means that neither the world as a whole nor any part of it can be the subject of two true propositions of the kind which logic asserts to be inconsistent with each other. Is there any incoherence between this statement and the statement that the world or parts of it break the laws of ethics? There would be an incoherence if and only if a breach of the laws of ethics by anything implied that this thing was the subject of two logically inconsistent propositions both of which were true. But we have seen that a breach of the laws of ethics entails no such consequences. If I commit a murder I break a law of ethics, but I do not thereby become the subject of two true propositions which are logically inconsistent with each other. The two true propositions: "I commit a murder" and: "I do wrong to commit a murder" are perfectly consistent in logic with each other.

     (b) We may therefore pass to the second question. Granted that there is no inconsistency between the propositions: "The world is logically coherent" and "The world is ethically incoherent"; is it inconsistent of me to combine the two? I understand Professor Taylor's position to be that I have no positive ground for believing the world to be logically coherent which is not also a positive ground for believing it to be ethically coherent, and that it is therefore inconsistent in one to assert the former and doubt the latter. Let us now examine this contention a little more closely. When we say that a man has no ground for asserting p which is not equally a ground for asserting q we may mean one of two things.

  1. We may mean that he has no ground at all for either assertion. Or
  2. we may mean that he has a positive ground for asserting p, and that this is just as good a ground for asserting q.

     The former alternative would mean that the belief that the world is rational is an act of pure faith, and that the belief that the world is righteous is another act of pure faith. Supposing this to be true, all that follows is that A, who believes on no grounds that the world is intelligible, cannot cast stones at B. who believes on no grounds that the world is righteous. Equally, of course, B will not be able to cast stones at A. But, so far as I can see, though A and B could not refute each other, they also could not convince each other. Because I believe one proposition on faith, and another man believes another proposition on faith, it does not follow that I ought to add his belief to mine or that he ought to add my belief to his. Thus, on this alternative, the argument may produce mutual charity but it has no tendency to produce mutual conviction.

     The second alternative is that the two beliefs that the world is intelligible and that it is righteous have a common positive ground. If so, it will be inconsistent of me to assert one proposition on this ground and to deny the other. In order to deal with this case it will be necessary to state more clearly what is meant by the proposition that the world is "intelligible" or "intellectually coherent'. I think that this involves two points;

  1. that the world obeys the laws of logic, and
  2. something more.
The first is all that the pure mathematician requires; the second is required in addition to the first by the natural scientist. I will deal with these two points in turn.

     (i) It seems to me that my ground for believing that the world obeys the laws of logic can be stated, and that it is obviously quite different from my ground (if any) for believing that it obeys the laws of ethics. Why do I believe that the world obeys the laws of logic? Because I seem to be able to see quite clearly that no term of any kind could be the subject of two true and logically inconsistent propositions. It is true that this belief "has no grounds", in the sense that no reasons can be given for it which do not presuppose it. But it also needs no grounds in this sense; for it is self-evident. It is merely an abuse of language to call it an "act of faith" in the sense in which my belief that my friend loves me in spite of his being sometimes cold and sometimes peevish to me may be called an "act of faith". I have this self-evident knowledge of some of the more abstract principles of ethics as well as of the laws of logic. But I have no such knowledge of the proposition that the world conforms to the laws of ethics. So far from its being self-evident that the world conforms to the laws of ethics it is perfectly certain that some parts of it do not. At least it is as certain that the world does not wholly conform to the laws of ethics as it is that there is moral evil in it. It is no answer to this to say that we often meet with apparent contradictions, and that we always feel quite sure that they are only apparent and that fuller knowledge would show that the laws of logic have not been broken; so why should not the same thing be true of apparent breaches of the laws of ethics? The two cases are quite different. We know beforehand that nothing real can break the laws of logic, we do not know that nothing real can break the laws of ethics. Moreover, additional knowledge will not show that something which I took to be intrinsically evil is not intrinsically evil; at the most it will only show that something which is intrinsically evil is a causal condition of something else which is intrinsically good, or that it is a constituent of a whole which is intrinsically good in spite of the intrinsic badness of this part of it. There is thus no parallel at all between the two cases, so far as I can see.

     (ii) There is then not the slightest inconsistency in the position of a pure mathematician, e.g., who believes that all apparent contradictions in mathematics can be resolved and also believes that the world is very bad or not very good. But Professor Taylor was not really considering the case of a pure mathematician. He was considering the ordinary natural scientist; and here his argument has much more plausibility. The intelligibility of the existent world does imply that it and every part of it obeys the laws of logic; but it requires more than this. Nature might obey the laws of logic; but, unless at least two further conditions were fulfilled, it would still be an unintelligible chaos to the scientific investigator. The first condition is that changes shall be subject to general laws, such as the laws of motion, gravitation, etc. This is in no way implied by the fact that nature obeys the laws of logic. But this is not enough. Nature might obey the laws of logic, and every change in the existent might be subject to general laws, and yet nature might be utterly unintelligible. The laws might be too numerous or too complex for us to unravel; they might be such that it was practically impossible for us to isolate any one phenomenon from all the rest even to a first degree of approximation; or again, our situation in nature might be so unfortunate that our sensations came to us in such an order that they failed to reveal the laws which really are present in nature. The scientist who assumes that nature is and will always remain intelligible must therefore assume that nature obeys other laws in addition to those of logic; that these are of such a kind that we shall be able to disentangle them if we try patiently; and that we are not fixed in such an exceptional corner of nature or so badly provided with sense-organs that all our efforts will be vain. These assumptions are not self-evident, like the laws of logic; and they cannot be proved by any known process of reasoning from any known set of premises which are self-evident. Let us call them "postulates", as contrasted with the laws of logic, which are "axioms".

     Of these scientific postulates we may say

  1. that they cannot be disproved, any more than they can be proved; and
  2. that it is practically more advantageous to act as if we believed them than to act as if we disbelieved them.
There is no logical reason for believing them, but there is a practical motive for acting as if we believed them. The practical motive of course is that, if we act on these postulates, we shall go on investigating; and that if, and only if, we go on investigating, we may discover explanations of what is at present unintelligible. Now I suppose that the corresponding ethical postulate would be that our efforts to do what is right, to discover truth, and to create beautiful objects, have an effect which is permanently valuable. I think it is true to say that this
  1. cannot be disproved and
  2. that most men are more likely to exercise themselves in valuable activities if they act as if they believed it than if they act as if they disbelieved it.
There is (apart from the special empirical arguments which I reserve for the next chapter) no logical reason to believe this ethical postulate, but there is a practical motive for acting as if we believed it. It is thus in precisely the same logical position and in precisely the same practical position as the scientific postulate. So much I think we may grant to Professor Taylor.

     What is the bearing of this admission on the question of human immortality? It seems to me to have no direct bearing at all. It is desirable that men should act as if they believed that their efforts will have permanently valuable results. If Professor Taylor be right, the proposition: "Human efforts will have permanently valuable results" entails the proposition: "Some human beings are immortal". All that follows from this is that it is desirable that men should act as if they believed a certain proposition which entails the proposition that some men are immortal. It is plain that this does not give us any reason to assert that some men are immortal. It does not even justify us in saying that it is desirable to act as if we believed that some men are immortal. It may be desirable to act as if we believed p, and p may in fact entail q; but it might be highly desirable that men should ignore this implication. It is one thing to say that it is desirable to act as if we believed p; and it is another thing to say that it is desirable to act as if we believed both "p" and "p entails q". And the second does not follow from the first, even if p does in fact entail q.

     All that Professor Taylor's argument justifies us in asserting is a certain proposition about practical politics. If people do not believe that their efforts will produce permanently valuable results, or if they do believe some thing which is inconsistent with this, there is a danger that they will cease to act as if they believed that their efforts will produce permanently valuable results. And this will be very unfortunate. Now, if Professor Taylor be right, those who believe that all men are mortal are believing something which is inconsistent with the proposition that their efforts will have permanently valuable results. And of course there is a danger that they may come to see this; and may thus cease to believe that their efforts will have permanently valuable results, and finally cease to act as if they believed this. It follows from this that it would probably be wise for the State to adopt the immortality of the soul as a fundamental "myth", and not to allow it to be publicly questioned. I wholly agree with Plato in thinking that human society requires to be founded on certain "myths", which are not self-evident and cannot be proved; and that the State is within its rights in forbidding all public discussion of the truth of these "myths". And I think it is quite possible that the doctrine of human im mortality (whether it be in fact true or false) is one of these socially valuable "myths" which the State ought to remove from the arena of public discussion. This of course has no bearing whatever on the question whether the philosopher in his study ought to believe the doctrine of human immortality. He ought only to believe what is either self-evident, or capable of certain or probable proof, or verifiable by sensible or introspective perception.

     I have suggested that the view that nature is "intelligible", in the sense in which the natural scientist believes this, is in precisely the same logical and practical position as the view that our efforts can produce results of permanent value. And I have suggested that it is arguable that the State ought to propagate and defend such "myths" as are needed to support the latter belief. Ought I in consistency to suggest that the State should propagate and defend the scientist's "myth" also? I do not think so. In the first place, no one of any influence attacks the scientist's "myth". Secondly, the practical success of the scientific postulate up to the present is much more obvious to the general public than the practical success of the ethical postulate. This of course is not really any logical ground for believing the scientist's postulate. But it is commonly thought to be so. Hence most people believe that the scientist's postulate is continually strengthened by experience. So long as this logical fallacy is commonly accepted as a truth there is no danger that people will cease to believe the scientist's postulate, and therefore there is no danger that they will cease to act on it. Hence there is no need for the State to take any special precautions in favour of this particular "myth".

Conclusion.

     The upshot of the matter is that I feel no confidence that Professor Taylor has produced any ground whatever for believing in human immortality. It does not of course follow that there could not be a valid ethical argument to prove that some men at least are not mortal. But if, as I think, Professor Taylor has failed to produce one, I should be very much surprised if anyone else were more successful. And, until someone does it to my satisfaction, I shall venture to doubt whether it can be done.


Contents -- Go to Chapter XII