Chapter II: Naturalistic Ethics.
§ 28.
But there is
another slightly different sense in which the word natural
is used with
an implication that it denotes something good. This is when we speak of natural
affections, or unnatural crimes and vices. Here the meaning seems to be, not so
much that the action or feeling in question is normal or abnormal, as that it is
necessary. It is in this connection that we are advised to imitate savages and
beasts. Curious advice, certainly; but, of course, there may be something in it.
I am not here concerned to enquire under what circumstances some of us might
with advantage take a lesson from the cow. I have really no doubt that such
exist. What I am concerned with is a certain kind of reason, which I think is
sometimes used to support this doctrine—a naturalistic reason. The notion
sometimes lying at the bottom of the minds of preachers of this gospel is that
we cannot improve on nature. This notion is certainly true, in the sense that
anything we can do, will be a natural product. But that is not what is meant by
this phrase; nature is again used to mean a mere part of nature; only this time
the part meant is not so much the normal as an arbitrary minimum of what is
necessary for life. And when this minimum is recommended as
natural
—as the way of life to which Nature points her
finger—then the naturalistic fallacy is used. Against this position I wish
only to point out that though the performance of certain acts, not in themselves
desirable, may be excused as necessary means to the preservation of
life, that is no reason for praising them, or advising us to limit
ourselves to those simple actions which are necessary, if it is possible for us
to improve our condition even at the expense of of doing what is in this sense
unnecessary. Nature does indeed set limits to what is possible; she does control
the means we have at our disposal for obtaining what is good; and of this fact,
practical Ethics, as we shall see later, must certainly take account: but when
she is supposed to have a preference for what is necessary, what is necessary
means only what is necessary to obtain a certain end, presupposed as the highest
good; and what the highest good is Nature cannot determine. Why should we
suppose that what is merely necessary to life is ipso
facto better than what is necessary to the study of metaphysics, useless
as that study may appear? It may be that life is only worth living, because it
enables us to study metaphysics—is a necessary means thereto. The fallacy
of this argument from nature has been discovered as long ago as Lucian. I was
almost inclined to laugh,
says Callicratidas, in one
of the dialogues imputed to him, just now, when Charicles was praising
irrational brutes and the savagery of the Scythians: in the heat of his argument
he was almost repenting that he was born a Greek. What wonder if lions and bears
and pigs do not act as I was proposing? That which reasoning would fairly lead a
man to choose, cannot be had by creatures that do not reason, simply because
they are so stupid. If Prometheus or some other god had given each of them the
intelligence of a man, then they would not have lived in deserts and mountains
nor fed on one another. They would have built temples just as we do, each would
have lived in the centre of his family, and they would have formed a nation
bound by mutual laws. Is it anything surprising that brutes, who have had the
misfortune to be unable to obtain by forethought any of the goods with which
reasoning provides us, should have missed love too? Lions do not love; but
neither do they philosophise; bears do not love, but the reason is they do not
know the sweets of friendship. It is only men, who, by their wisdom and
knowledge, after many trials, have chosen what is best.
(§ 28 ¶ 1)
§ 28, n. 1: Ἔρωτες, 436-7. ↩