The General Principles of Morals

DISPUTES with men, pertinaciously obstinate in their principles, are, of all others, the most irksome; except, perhaps, those with persons, entirely disingenuous, who really do not believe the opinions they defend, but engage in the controversy, from affectation, from a spirit of opposition, or from a desire of showing wit and ingenuity, superior to the rest of mankind. The same blind adherence to their own arguments is to be expected in both; the same contempt of their antagonists; and the same passionate vehemence, in inforcing sophistry and falsehood. And as reasoning is not the source, whence either disputant derives his tenets; it is in vain to expect, that any logic, which speaks not to the affections, will ever engage him to embrace sounder principles.

Arguments with people who stubbornly cling to their principles are the most tiresome of all. The only possible exception is arguments with people who are entirely insincere. They do not really believe the opinions they defend. They argue to put on a show, to be contrary, or to display wit and ingenuity superior to everyone else’s. We can expect the same blind attachment to their own arguments from both kinds of disputant. We can also expect the same contempt for their opponents and the same passionate force in pressing deception and falsehood. Neither kind of disputant bases his beliefs on reason. So it is useless to expect that any logic that does not appeal to his feelings will persuade him to adopt sounder principles.

Those who have denied the reality of moral distinctions, may be ranked among the disingenuous disputants; nor is it conceivable, that any human creature could ever seriously believe, that all characters and actions were alike entitled to the affection and regard of everyone. The difference, which nature has placed between one man and another, is so wide, and this difference is still so much farther widened, by education, example, and habit, that, where the opposite extremes come at once under our apprehension, there is no scepticism so scrupulous, and scarce any assurance so determined, as absolutely to deny all distinction between them. Let a man's insensibility be ever so great, he must often be touched with the images of Right and Wrong; and let his prejudices be ever so obstinate, he must observe, that others are susceptible of like impressions. The only way, therefore, of converting an antagonist of this kind, is to leave him to himself. For, finding that nobody keeps up the controversy with him, it is probable he will, at last, of himself, from mere weariness, come over to the side of common sense and reason.

Those who deny that moral distinctions are real can be counted among those who argue in bad faith. No human being could seriously believe that all characters and actions equally deserve everyone’s affection and regard. Nature has made the differences between people vast. Education, example, and habit widen those differences still further. When we see opposite extremes together, no skepticism is so scrupulous, and hardly any confidence so unshakable, that it can deny any distinction between them. However insensitive a person may be, images of right and wrong must often touch him. However stubborn his prejudices, he must notice that others are affected in the same way. The only way to convert such an opponent, then, is to leave him alone. When he finds that no one will continue the argument, he will probably tire of it. At last, he will likely come around to common sense and reason on his own.

There has been a controversy started of late, much better worth examination, concerning the general foundation of Morals; whether they be derived from Reason, or from Sentiment; whether we attain the knowledge of them by a chain of argument and induction, or by an immediate feeling and finer internal sense; whether, like all sound judgement of truth and falsehood, they should be the same to every rational intelligent being; or whether, like the perception of beauty and deformity, they be founded entirely on the particular fabric and constitution of the human species.

A recent controversy about the general foundation of morals is much more worth examining. Do morals come from reason or from feeling? Do we come to know them through a chain of arguments and inferences? Or do we know them through an immediate feeling and a finer inner sense? Should morals be the same for every rational, intelligent being, like all sound judgments of truth and falsehood? Or are morals based entirely on the particular nature and makeup of the human species, like our perception of beauty and ugliness?

The ancient philosophers, though they often affirm, that virtue is nothing but conformity to reason, yet, in general, seem to consider morals as deriving their existence from taste and sentiment. On the other hand, our modern enquirers, though they also talk much of the beauty of virtue, and deformity of vice, yet have commonly endeavoured to account for these distinctions by metaphysical reasonings, and by deductions from the most abstract principles of the understanding. Such confusion reigned in these subjects, that an opposition of the greatest consequence could prevail between one system and another, and even in the parts of almost each individual system; and yet nobody, till very lately, was ever sensible of it. The elegant Lord Shaftesbury, who first gave occasion to remark this distinction, and who, in general, adhered to the principles of the ancients, is not, himself, entirely free from the same confusion.

Ancient philosophers often claim that virtue is nothing more than conformity to reason. Yet they generally seem to consider morals as arising from taste and feeling. Modern thinkers, on the other hand, also speak often of the beauty of virtue and the ugliness of vice. Yet they have usually tried to explain these distinctions through metaphysical reasoning and deductions from the most abstract principles of understanding. These subjects were so confused that systems could differ on a matter of the greatest importance. Even different parts of almost every individual system could conflict on this point. Yet until very recently, no one was aware of the conflict. The elegant Lord Shaftesbury first drew attention to this distinction and generally followed the principles of the ancients. Yet even he was not entirely free from the same confusion.

It must be acknowledged, that both sides of the question are susceptible of specious arguments. Moral distinctions, it may be said, are discernible by pure reason: else, whence the many disputes that reign in common life, as well as in philosophy, with regard to this subject: the long chain of proofs often produced on both sides; the examples cited, the authorities appealed to, the analogies employed, the fallacies detected, the inferences drawn, and the several conclusions adjusted to their proper principles. Truth is disputable; not taste: what exists in the nature of things is the standard of our judgement; what each man feels within himself is the standard of sentiment. Propositions in geometry may be proved, systems in physics may be controverted; but the harmony of verse, the tenderness of passion, the brilliancy of wit, must give immediate pleasure. No man reasons concerning another's beauty; but frequently concerning the justice or injustice of his actions. In every criminal trial the first object of the prisoner is to disprove the facts alleged, and deny the actions imputed to him: the second to prove, that, even if these actions were real, they might be justified, as innocent and lawful. It is confessedly by deductions of the understanding, that the first point is ascertained: how can we suppose that a different faculty of the mind is employed in fixing the other? On the other hand, those who would resolve all moral determinations into sentiment, may endeavour to show, that it is impossible for reason ever to draw conclusions of this nature. To virtue, say they, it belongs to be amiable, and vice odious. This forms their very nature or essence. But can reason or argumentation distribute these different epithets to any subjects, and pronounce beforehand, that this must produce love, and that hatred? Or what other reason can we ever assign for these affections, but the original fabric and formation of the human mind, which is naturally adapted to receive them?

We must acknowledge that both sides of the question can offer plausible arguments. One might argue that pure reason can distinguish right from wrong. Otherwise, why are there so many disputes about morality, both in everyday life and in philosophy? Both sides often present long chains of proof. They cite examples, appeal to authorities, use analogies, expose fallacies, draw inferences, and relate their conclusions to the appropriate principles. Truth can be disputed, but taste cannot. Our judgment is measured against the way things really are. Our feelings are measured against what each person feels within. Propositions in geometry can be proved, and theories in physics can be challenged. But the harmony of verse, the tenderness of passion, and the brilliance of wit must give immediate pleasure. No one reasons about another person's beauty. Yet people often reason about whether another person's actions are just or unjust. In every criminal trial, the defendant first tries to disprove the alleged facts and deny the actions attributed to him. His second aim is to prove that, even if he did act as alleged, his actions were innocent and lawful. Everyone agrees that the first point is established through reasoning. How, then, can we suppose that a different mental faculty settles the second? On the other hand, those who trace all moral judgments to feeling may try to show that reason cannot reach such conclusions. Virtue, they say, is lovable, and vice is hateful. This is their very nature or essence. But can reason or argument assign these qualities to anything? Can reason declare in advance that one thing must produce love and another hatred? Or what other explanation can we ever give for these feelings, except the original structure of the human mind? The mind is naturally suited to experience them.

The end of all moral speculations is to teach us our duty; and, by proper representations of the deformity of vice and beauty of virtue, beget correspondent habits, and engage us to avoid the one, and embrace the other. But is this ever to be expected from inferences and conclusions of the understanding, which of themselves have no hold of the affections or set in motion the active powers of men? They discover truths: but where the truths which they discover are indifferent, and beget no desire or aversion, they can have no influence on conduct and behaviour. What is honourable, what is fair, what is becoming, what is noble, what is generous, takes possession of the heart, and animates us to embrace and maintain it. What is intelligible, what is evident, what is probable, what is true, procures only the cool assent of the understanding; and gratifying a speculative curiosity, puts an end to our researches.

The aim of all moral inquiry is to teach us our duty. By showing us the ugliness of vice and the beauty of virtue, it aims to form matching habits. It seeks to lead us to avoid vice and embrace virtue. But can we ever expect this from reasoning and conclusions? By themselves, these have no hold on our feelings and do not move us to act. They discover truths. But when those truths leave us indifferent and arouse neither desire nor aversion, they cannot influence our conduct. What is honorable, fair, fitting, noble, or generous takes hold of our hearts. It inspires us to embrace and uphold it. What is understandable, evident, probable, or true wins only the cool agreement of our minds. It satisfies our intellectual curiosity and brings our inquiry to an end.

Extinguish all the warm feelings and prepossessions in favour of virtue, and all disgust or aversion to vice: render men totally indifferent towards these distinctions; and morality is no longer a practical study, nor has any tendency to regulate our lives and actions.

Take away all warm feelings and favorable attitudes toward virtue, and all disgust or aversion toward vice. Make people completely indifferent to these distinctions. Then morality is no longer a practical study and has no tendency to guide our lives and actions.

These arguments on each side (and many more might be produced) are so plausible, that I am apt to suspect, they may, the one as well as the other, be solid and satisfactory, and that reason and sentiment concur in almost all moral determinations and conclusions. The final sentence, it is probable, which pronounces characters and actions amiable or odious, praise-worthy or blameable; that which stamps on them the mark of honour or infamy, approbation or censure; that which renders morality an active principle and constitutes virtue our happiness, and vice our misery; it is probable, I say, that this final sentence depends on some internal sense or feeling, which nature has made universal in the whole species. For what else can have an influence of this nature? But in order to pave the way for such a sentiment, and give a proper discernment of its object, it is often necessary, we find, that much reasoning should precede, that nice distinctions be made, just conclusions drawn, distant comparisons formed, complicated relations examined, and general facts fixed and ascertained. Some species of beauty, especially the natural kinds, on their first appearance, command our affection and approbation; and where they fail of this effect, it is impossible for any reasoning to redress their influence, or adapt them better to our taste and sentiment. But in many orders of beauty, particularly those of the finer arts, it is requisite to employ much reasoning, in order to feel the proper sentiment; and a false relish may frequently be corrected by argument and reflection. There are just grounds to conclude, that moral beauty partakes much of this latter species, and demands the assistance of our intellectual faculties, in order to give it a suitable influence on the human mind.

The arguments on each side are very plausible, and many more could be offered. I am inclined to suspect that both sides may be sound and convincing. Reason and feeling may work together in almost all moral judgments and conclusions. We make a final judgment that declares characters and actions lovable or hateful, worthy of praise or blame. This judgment marks them as honorable or shameful, approved or condemned. It makes morality an active force and makes virtue our happiness and vice our misery. This final judgment probably depends on an inner sense or feeling that nature has made universal in our species. For what else could have such an influence? But much reasoning is often needed to prepare the way for such a feeling and help us recognize its object. We must make fine distinctions, draw sound conclusions, compare things far apart, examine complex relationships, and establish general facts. Some kinds of beauty, especially natural beauty, win our affection and approval as soon as we see them. When they fail to do so, no reasoning can make up for that failure or make them better suited to our taste and feeling. But many kinds of beauty, especially in the fine arts, require much reasoning before we feel the appropriate response. Argument and reflection can often correct mistaken taste. There are good grounds for concluding that moral beauty is much like this latter kind. It requires the help of our intellectual faculties to have its proper influence on the human mind.

But though this question, concerning the general principles of morals, be curious and important, it is needless for us, at present, to employ farther care in our researches concerning it. For if we can be so happy, in the course of this enquiry, as to discover the true origin of morals, it will then easily appear how far either sentiment or reason enters into all determinations of this nature². In order to attain this purpose, we shall endeavour to follow a very simple method: we shall analyse that complication of mental qualities, which form what, in common life, we call Personal Merit: we shall consider every attribute of the mind, which renders a man an object either of esteem and affection, or of hatred and contempt; every habit or sentiment or faculty, which, if ascribed to any person, implies either praise or blame, and may enter into any panegyric or satire of his character and manners. The quick sensibility, which, on this head, is so universal among mankind, gives a philosopher sufficient assurance, that he can never be considerably mistaken in framing the catalogue, or incur any danger of misplacing the objects of his contemplation: he needs only enter into his own breast for a moment, and consider whether or not he should desire to have this or that quality ascribed to him, and whether such or such an imputation would proceed from a friend or an enemy. The very nature of language guides us almost infallibly in forming a judgement of this nature; and as every tongue possesses one set of words which are taken in a good sense, and another in the opposite, the least acquaintance with the idiom suffices, without any reasoning, to direct us in collecting and arranging the estimable or blameable qualities of men. The only object of reasoning is to discover the circumstances on both sides, which are common to these qualities; to observe that particular in which the estimable qualities agree on the one hand, and the blameable on the other; and thence to reach the foundation of ethics, and find those universal principles, from which all censure or approbation is ultimately derived. As this is a question of fact, not of abstract science, we can only expect success, by following the experimental method, and deducing general maxims from a comparison of particular instances. The other scientific method, where a general abstract principle is first established, and is afterwards branched out into a variety of inferences and conclusions, may be more perfect in itself, but suits less the imperfection of human nature, and is a common source of illusion and mistake in this as well as in other subjects. Men are now cured of their passion for hypotheses and systems in natural philosophy, and will hearken to no arguments but those which are derived from experience. It is full time they should attempt a like reformation in all moral disquisitions; and reject every system of ethics, however subtle or ingenious, which is not founded on fact and observation.

Although this question about the general principles of morals is interesting and important, we need not investigate it further now. If we are fortunate enough to discover the true origin of morals during this inquiry, the answer will become clear. We will easily see how much feeling or reason contributes to all judgments of this kind². To reach this goal, we will follow a very simple method. We will analyze the complex of mental qualities that we commonly call Personal Merit. We will consider every quality of mind that makes a person an object of esteem and affection, or hatred and contempt. We will examine every habit, feeling, or ability that implies either praise or blame when attributed to someone. These are the qualities that might be mentioned in praise or satire of a person's character and conduct. People everywhere are quick to respond to these qualities. This gives a philosopher good reason to believe that he cannot go far wrong when listing them. Nor is he in much danger of classifying them incorrectly. He need only look into his own heart for a moment. He can ask whether he would want a particular quality attributed to him. He can also ask whether a friend or an enemy would attribute it to him. The very nature of language guides us almost unfailingly in making such judgments. Every language has one set of words understood positively and another understood negatively. So even a slight knowledge of a language is enough to guide us in collecting and arranging admirable and blameworthy qualities. No reasoning is needed for that task. Reasoning has only one purpose here. It is to discover what the qualities on each side have in common. We must observe what the admirable qualities share and what the blameworthy qualities share. From there, we can reach the foundation of ethics. We can find the universal principles from which all blame or approval ultimately comes. This is a question of fact, not of abstract science. So we can hope to succeed only by following the experimental method and drawing general principles from a comparison of particular examples. The other scientific method begins by establishing a general abstract principle. It then draws a variety of inferences and conclusions from that principle. This method may be more perfect in itself, but it is less suited to the imperfections of human nature. It is a common source of illusion and error in this subject as well as others. People have now been cured of their passion for hypotheses and systems in natural philosophy. They will listen only to arguments drawn from experience. It is high time they attempted a similar reform in all moral inquiries. They should reject every system of ethics, however subtle or ingenious, that is not founded on fact and observation.

We shall begin our enquiry on this head by the consideration of the social virtues, Benevolence and Justice. The explication of them will probably give us an opening by which the others may be accounted for.

We will begin our inquiry into this subject by considering the social virtues of benevolence and justice. Explaining them will probably give us a starting point for understanding the other virtues.