Chapter XVII:
Social Friction.

Ethical principles are a growth of the social system. The members of society are literally bound by them, not by an ideal bond, but by positive constraint. The prevailing idea is, that any one might conduct himself immorally if he preferred, and that pure principle is all that prevents the majority of mankind from doing so. Such ideas legitimately follow from the free-will doctrine and other kindred errors that pervade the moral teaching which we all receive. The truth is, that men are compelled to conduct themselves according to the established standards of propriety. This is the condition upon which society has been enabled to develop. The few who attempt to break over these restrictions quickly come to grief. They drop into the criminal classes, and find their way into the penitentiaries; or they are stamped as monomaniacs, fanatics, "cranks," and rigidly guarded. They are driven from the centers of culture, and find for brief periods the means of continuing their licentious course on the expanding borders of civilization. Here they are known as "roughs" and "desperadoes," and flourish until compelled to succumb to the summary justice of "vigilance committees," which are merely the rude guardians of moral law in such communities. For there is really no hard-and-fast line which can be drawn between criminality and the less heinous forms of immorality. But even the least deviation from the path of rectitude is, in developed social centers, a signal for ostracism, the withdrawal of esteem, systematic avoidance, and all the other forms of punishment which render life intolerable, and demonstrate the completely compulsory character of the ethical code. It is a code which enforces itself, and therefore requires no priesthood and no manual. And strangely enough, here, where alone laissez faire is sound doctrine, we find the laissez faire school calling loudly for "regulation."—Dynamic Sociology, II, 372-373.

The great object of action is to do something. Conduct only aims to avoid doing—either to avoid interfering with the "pursuits of ends" by others, or to prevent others from pursuing such ends, or to do some benefit for another, whereby he is prevented from doing the necessary acts for rendering an equivalent, or to do him an injury whereby he is prevented, to that extent, from pursuing his natural ends. It is all through a negative proceeding, interfering at every point with the normal course of action. Conduct is a guidance of acts so as to prevent or to occasion conflicts in normal actions.—Dynamic Sociology, II, 376-377.

Moral conduct, instead of being, as usually represented, conduct in a right line, is in reality conduct in a very irregular line. The path of rectitude is a crooked path, and the distance lost in following it counts heavily against the progress of the world, yet less heavily than would the jars and collisions which a failure to follow it would inevitably produce.

The remarkable fact to be noted is, that it is this class of human action, aiming simply to avoid such conflicts of interest, insignificant as it is in comparison with the main current of human action, that has been the subject of all the ethical teaching and ethical writing which have flooded the world from the earliest historic periods. —Dynamic Sociology, II, 377–378.

From the sociological point of view, then, Ethics becomes nothing else than a definite account of the forms of conduct that are fitted to the associated state, in such wise that the lives of each and all may be the greatest possible, alike in length and breadth. —HERBERT SPENCER: Data of Ethics, p. 133.

Our vices thus are virtues in disguise,
Wicked but by degrees, or by surprise.

[RIGHT]POPE: Essay on Man, Epistle II.

Thus spite of all the Frenchman's witty lies
Most vices are but virtues in disguise.

[RIGHT]POPE: Ibid. (another version of the above).

If any one were to write a book professing by its title to set forth the value of machinery and its usefulness to civilization, and were to confine himself exclusively to the subject of friction, pointing out in great detail the importance of reducing it to the minimum, describing the most effective kinds of journals, gudgeons, and bearings for this purpose, and treating exhaustively the subject of lubricating oils, the case would be closely analogous to that which exists with respect to the treatment by all writers of human or social action. Unquestionably the most important subject that can engage the attention of the human mind, its laws, principles and methods, as well as its substantial results have been ignored and volumes by thousands have been written on the mere friction which it engenders, its interferences and conflicts and how they may be lessened. This insignificant field of investigation has been dignified by the high-sounding name of ethics, or sometimes even by the more grandiloquent one of "moral science." These voluminous reports of the Circumlocution Office upon "the art of perceiving how not to do it" are of a piece with the traditional schoolboy's composition on pins setting forth their usefulness in saving men's lives by their not swallowing them.

That unthinking persons, theological writers, and authors of sentimental homilies should extol morals and regard it as the chief end of life is not perhaps to be wondered at; but that philosophers of breadth and penetration should have so uniformly failed to assign it its proper and natural place in their systems, will always remain one of the curiosities of the human mind. It would at least be supposed that where one of these latter was also a professed teacher of social science, and as such to have been forced to make the most careful study and analysis of all the different kinds of social action, he could not help seeing the subordinate rank and incidental character of those negative phenomena which alone belong to ethics. It is all the more surprising, therefore, to find Mr. Herbert Spencer making this subject to form the cap-sheaf and crown of his great system of synthetic philosophy, and speaking of that part of his system as the one to which he regards "all the preceding parts as subsidiary."

While sociology deals with all human actions and, therefore, includes ethics, the latter deals only with the limited class of actions which are properly included under the word conduct, and which, as said above, constitute the conflicts that occur in normal action. They are not only unimportant from their limited scope, but from their essentially negative character. Their tendency, as in mechanical friction, is to impede, and to their full extent, to prevent the regular operations of society. They are therefore wholly non-progressive. Any one who from moral considerations acts in any respect differently from what the psychic forces within him normally impel him to act, to that extent lessens the effect of his action. Of course this is far from saying that it is not very frequently necessary and in all respects best to do this, it is merely to insist that there is nothing so wonderful and exalted about moral acts as is commonly supposed, when viewed from the broadest philosophical standpoint. If one sees the question only from the standpoint of social progress, which consists in producing the maximum permanent improvements in man's material surroundings, all hindrances to this consummation are bad, and those acts which are morally good are in most instances socially bad.

It may be admitted that the subject of interferences among human actions and of their avoidance is a complex and difficult one, nevertheless it has been so long and exhaustively studied that it seems impossible to add anything of value. All the great moral precepts are as old as human records. The "golden rule" of Christ was laid down independently by Hillel and Confucius and never practised by any one. Among the best maxims are those of the Brahmins, while Antoninus and the Stoics have furnished as pure and lofty conceptions of duty as any modern moral science writer could wish. Mr. Spencer laid claim to finding a "scientific basis" for ethics. One volume of his Principles of Ethics is now out and I am unable to see that he has sustained that claim if by "scientific basis" he means anything else than the old basis. What he says that is new is no part of ethics. The doctrine that pleasure is the good and pain the bad, and that happiness is the end of action, while "scientific" is not ethical. It is a corollary dimly seen by Spinoza and others, growing out of the principle set forth in Chap. VII, which is a principle of psychology, or, one may say, of biology. And as to his "Justice" the subject does not belong to ethics, but to jurisprudence. As treated by him it is a partisan defence of extreme individualism, amounting to practical anarchism.

However important moral conduct may be in itself, and there is no difference of opinion on this point, there are many reasons, in its overdone condition already referred to, why it should not be made to absorb so large a share of the attention of thinking persons. The moral precepts observed at any time and in any country are the effect and not the cause of the moral condition of those who observe them. If there is any mutual interaction between ethical teaching and moral conduct by which each influences the other and tends to cause the advance of both it is very slight. Certain it is that the former can be and frequently is pushed so far that the moral sense is more or less blunted and deadened by the iteration of moral injunctions. It would probably be better for personal morality if ethics were only taught historically and philosophically.

Another serious evil results from the erroneous belief that moral character can be improved by ethical teaching. Many persons, and especially teachers, habitually labor under such a load of responsibility for the moral character of those who come within the circle of their influence that they become paralyzed for usefulness in life. No one dares to say what he thinks. All originality is screened out of whatever is produced. Teaching, that noblest of all vocations, degenerates into pedantry. This has now reached such a stage that the utterances of professors in colleges have assumed a stereotyped form and the sagacious student knows in advance what is going to be said. Or, if any one of these should chance to say anything original, he feels obliged immediately to recant it, or to add a saving clause to the effect that he meant something else. And it is getting to be the practice in set papers, orations, and scholastic addresses in which the mind has been allowed some freedom to expand, to close with a "protest," as the Catholic writers call it, namely a disclaimer of everything that could be construed to be injurious to morals. Frequently, after stating an important scientific truth, it is deemed necessary to explain to the reader, as the judge does to the jury, how much of it it will do to believe and what conclusions it will not do to draw from it. University lectures become infected with this true moral cowardice, until the lecture-room style can be recognized and readily distinguished from the independent exposition of the original investigator. The same difference is seen in the books produced by the two classes, in the cringing fear that animates the one, contrasted with the manly courage characterizing the other.

Along with the dwarfing effect of this state of things, there goes the further demoralizing influence of egotism and conceit. For the idea of continually guarding the character of others begets an inordinate conception of personal importance, and this is always seen grotesquely mixing itself with pretended humility. A form of this sometimes takes possession even of truly great minds, and unless checked by wholesome influences from without they are apt to merge into a state in which they vastly overestimate the effect their labors are to produce. It was so with Auguste Comte, after long practising his "hygiène cérébrale" of reading nothing and conversing with no one, but evolving his system out of his inner consciousness, until he fancied himself the high priest of a new dispensation and even fixed the time for its universal acceptance. And do we not see some trace of this enlarged personality in Mr. Herbert Spencer when, in the preface to his Data of Ethics, he explains his haste to lay before the world his ethical system before any serious evils should result from its delay? For it is in this connection that he says: "Few things can happen more disastrous than the decay and death of a regulative system no longer fit, before another and fitter regulative system has grown up to replace it." Under such a weight of responsibility he ought at least to be consoled by the view expressed in this chapter and to congratulate himself that the morals of the world may still be safe even if he should not live to complete his Principles of Ethics.

To all this may now be added the further law that the moral state is a product of social evolution and a condition to the existence of society. The moral code only differs from the legal code in taking cognizance of cases that society will adjudicate without the aid of the courts. Society will not tolerate an incorrigibly immoral member. To be in society at all and out of jail he must practice the moral virtues of his age and country. Great latitude there no doubt is in these matters, but his treatment by his fellow men will depend upon the degree to which he conforms to popular conceptions of right, and though he may keep within legal rules, if he persists in violating moral rules he will be ostracized and deprived of the means of gaining a livelihood, and ultimately made to perish and make room for those who will conform. Therefore there is no need to preach morality. It is self-regulating. Society literally compels its members to observe its moral laws.

To the statement that ethics merely represents the social friction it may be objected that this is to take too narrow a view of the subject, that there are departments of ethics that are not covered by this definition. I have tried to discover such and thus far failed, although there are some cases in which this is apparently true. It may be said that ethics need not necessarily relate to others, but may relate wholly to self. One may do an immoral act to himself wholly irrespective of any other individual. For example he may be intemperate and thus abuse his own nature. To this it may be replied that if he were alone in some vast wilderness and his act were unknown to any other human being this would be a case in point. But it is merely a hypothetical case which could practically never occur, and if it should occur it would have no importance, because such a life would be socially useless. But the moment he is brought into society his immoral practises begin to react on others and in various ways to increase the friction of the social machinery.

It is also true that this view relates primarily to normal or egoistic conduct and only secondarily to supra-normal or altruistic, better named supererogatory conduct. At least beneficence, benevolence, philanthropy, charity, etc., do not directly result from conflicts in normal action. But we have only to analyze the motives to these to perceive that they are at least the indirect consequences of such conflicts. Taking charitable acts as the generic type of the whole supererogatory class, it is obvious that they presuppose the prior existence in society of serious obstructions to the normal course of action. They exist only because there is a class in society who are in some way more or less deprived of the means of subsistence. How came such a class to exist? Clearly through some form of interference with their normal actions. There is an abundance of food. The benevolent class possess a large enough surplus to sustain the indigent class, and they are but a handful compared with the non-benevolent class who possess a surplus. Those who have nothing, were they free to act, would proceed to supply themselves with the surplus. Something prevents them from doing so. It is not to the purpose to inquire here what the nature of these barriers is, it is only necessary to point out that they exist. But this is only to say that action has been interfered with, arrested, clogged, choked, and hence objects of charity exist in society. An act of charity is, therefore, from our present standpoint, simply a mode, usually only a temporary one, of relieving pressure upon this class, of clearing away the obstructions to life, in a word, of overcoming the social friction.

The above is independent of the ethical nature of this kind of social friction and also of that of charitable action in general. It is fashionable now-a-days to animadvert upon all charitable work from the supposed fundamental and scientific standpoint that it interferes with the law of the survival of the fittest in society. The argument proceeds from a superficial analogy between animal life and human life, and is neither scientific nor sound. But this much is true and is the basis of the popular error, namely that under the law of parsimony, i. e., that an individual will always seek the greatest gain for the least effort, it is easy to create a pauper class by injudicious charity. This class then becomes in society the strict homologue of the degenerate parasite so well known in almost every department of biology.

There is, however, a really fundamental and scientific objection to charity, but this I have never seen stated. It is that charity is really the giving by the benevolent class, not to the indigent class, but to the non-benevolent class. To illustrate this let us take the case of waiters' " tips " and porters' fees. All who have ever given the subject a moment's thought know that to tip a waiter or fee a porter is simply to give so much money to a hotel keeper or a railroad company. Its effect is to encourage these to continue to keep down the wages of these employés to the point of dependence upon the public, and the more generous the public the lower will be the wages. If all would resolve to cease tipping and feeing altogether, these employés would be paid regular wages like other employés. Charity and alms-giving do not differ in principle from this giving of tips and fees. It is true that in the latter case it is definitely known from whom the money should be taken as an act of justice, while in the former case the ones who should pay it are a large ill-defined class. But there is no doubt that the ones who have the wealth of the world have included in it the share of those who have none. The only escape from this conclusion is to say, as many are ready to do, that those who have nothing have no right to exist in society. If the indigent class were coextensive and identical with the criminal class there would be some ground for this position. But those who assume it generally argue that the poor are more moral than the rich, and it is probably true that the percentage of criminals from the wealthy classes is greater than that from the indigent classes. The only argument remaining is that poverty is due to idleness and profligacy. Yet if the percentage of idle and profligate rich could be compared with that of the idle and profligate poor, it would make a far worse showing for the former than that of the comparative criminality of these two classes. The conclusion therefore remains unassailable that the means of subsistence is justly due to the indigent class from the opulent class, and no amount of patchwork on the part of a few benevolent persons can ever balance this great account with society. Its effect is to increase the surplus of the non-benevolent in the sums contributed by the benevolent.

The several considerations above brought forward are merely samples of the short-sighted and superficial character of nearly everything that is said or done with relation to ethics. This is because in the nature of things there cannot be any logical and fundamental treatment of that subject. The moment logic and scientific principles are applied the problem ceases to be an ethical one and becomes a sociological one. The ethical and sociological standpoints are the opposites of each other. The former looks to the curbing, the latter to the freeing of social energy. Any philosophy that has for its object the hemming and cribbing of a great natural force can have no permanence. As well try to dam the waters of a river and hope for final success.

This thought introduces the fundamental truth with which this treatment of social friction must conclude. It is that the whole subject of ethics is essentially provisional and the stage to which it belongs is a merely transitional stage. There are those who by devoting their whole lives to doing good conceive of the life of future blessedness as one in which there shall be no other occupation but that of doing good. They forget that they have been taught that in that life there will be no one to need their ministrations. Could they realize such a state it would appear a wretched one. The only thing they enjoy they would be deprived of. I have known saintly beings of this class who seemed so to long for an opportunity to do good, that they could not conceal a secret joy at the occurrence of an unfortunate accident which promised to furnish such an opportunity. Were all suffering abolished the occupation of such persons would be gone. And yet Mr. Spencer and other ethical writers do but reflect a wide-spread popular sentiment in regarding ethical conduct as the climax of human achievement and ethics as the goal of philosophy.

The idea that there must always be a field for ethical action is only a part of the more general idea that all things must always be what they now are. And both of these ideas prevail in the face of the fact that the most radical changes have actually many times taken place within the narrow limits of human history. "The poor always ye have with you" is supposed to express a necessary social truth. It is doubtless as true now as it was two thousand years ago, but that is far from giving warrant for saying that it will continue to be true two thousand years hence. There are many who think that it will have ceased to be true two hundred years hence. But if it shall thus cease it will not be ethical teaching but improved social organization that will have produced the change. And so one might take up one by one all the social facts that make ethical conduct possible, and theoretically conceive of their elimination. It will, of course, be said that such an idea is visionary and utopian. Grant this and it still remains true that if any of the existing evils can be removed the domain of ethics is to that extent circumscribed. Deny that this is possible and the utility of all ethical work is given over. Admit that it is possible and there is no place to stop short of a reclamation of the whole field.

But is this claim wholly utopian? Has there been no moral progress? If not why continue to inculcate moral principles? As a matter of fact there has been great moral progress. Let any one read the history of England, even the meager account of its kings and their exploits which is called history, and compare the acts of the men of the 12th to the 16th centuries with those of the men occupying relatively the same national and social positions to-day, and see whether there has been any moral progress. Not even in Russia which we call despotic is there anything to compare with the immorality that openly stalked abroad three hundred years ago over all Europe. The subject need not be enlarged upon. The other point to be noted is that none of this real moral progress has been due to the enforcement and inculcation of moral precepts. It has been wholly due to the march of events, such as the growth of scientific ideas, the spread of letters, the influence of commerce, the establishment of universities, the invention of printing, and the introduction of machinery and manufactures ; in general to the progress of intelligence, laying bare the enormity of the abuses formerly practised and creating a new code of morals which society literally enforces. Men could not be as cruel and immoral as they once were if they would. The power of public sentiment crushes every display of it. In other words as already stated, the modern improved morality is a condition to the modern improved state of civilization and the latter is the cause of the former, not the reverse as ethical expounders teach.

The effect of social friction is always painful, therefore moral progress, which consists in reducing this friction, is restricted in its popular acceptation to the lessening of pain i.e., to the mitigation of suffering, the decrease of misery, and the removal of unhappiness in general. In short it is negative in its character, and such it really is in the main. But there may be a positive moral progress consisting in the increase of pleasure, the heightening of enjoyment, and the broadening and deepening of human happiness. Just as social friction is painful so social action is pleasurable. All desire is for the exercise of some function, and the objects of desire are such only by virtue of making such exercise possible. Happiness therefore can only be increased by increasing either the number or the intensity of satisfiable desires. It has in fact been greatly increased in both these ways. Without elaborating this principle I will simply point to the very modern date of two of the highest sources of man's present enjoyment in civilized countries, the enjoyment of music and the enjoyment of what may be called beauty in the amorphous—in the landscape, the cloud, the sea, the rocks, and the mountains. No faculty for appreciating either of these sources of delight seemed to exist in what we call ancient times, and it is practically wanting in all but modern civilized races. At least it cannot be sufficiently developed elsewhere to make up any considerable part of their enjoyment of life, which is the present point of view. Yet its germs doubtless exist in all races and have existed at all times, capable of development through civilization.

The highest ideal of happiness, therefore, is the freest exercise of the greatest number and most energetic faculties. This must also be the highest ethical ideal. But it is clear that its realization would abolish moral conduct altogether and remove the very field of ethics from a scheme of philosophy. To remove the obstacles to free social activity is to abolish the so-called science of ethics. The avowed purpose of ethics is to abolish itself. The highest ethics is no ethics. Ideally moral conduct is wholly un-moral conduct. Or more correctly stated, the highest ideal of a moral state is one in which there will exist nothing that can be called moral.

Whether we look at the subject from the standpoint of social progress or from that of individual welfare the liberation of social energy is the desideratum. The sociologist demands it because it increases the progressive power of society. The moralist should demand it because it increases happiness. For activity means both, and therefore the more activity the better. True morality not less than true progress consists in the emancipation of social energy and the free exercise of power. Evil is merely the friction which is to be overcome or at least minimized. This cannot be done by exhortation. It must be done by perfecting the social mechanism. The tendencies that produce evil are not in themselves evil. There is no absolute evil. None of the propensities which now cause evil are essentially bad. They are all in themselves good, must necessarily be so, since they have been developed for the sole purpose of enabling man to exist, survive, and progress. All evil is relative. Any power may do harm. The forces of nature are good or bad according to where they are permitted to expend themselves.

The wind is evil when it dashes the vessel on the rocks; it is good when it fills the sail and speeds it on its way. Fire is evil when it rages through a great city and destroys life and property; it is good when it warms human dwellings or creates the wondrous power of steam. Electricity is evil when in the thunderbolt it descends from the cloud and scatters death and destruction; it is good when it transmits messages of love to distant friends. And so it is with the passions of men as they surge through society. Left to themselves like the physical elements they find vent in all manner of ways and constantly dash against the interests of those who chance to be in their way. But like the elements they readily yield to the touch of true science, which directs them into harmless, nay, useful channels, and makes them instruments for good. In fact human desires, as defined in Chap. IX, seeking their satisfaction through appropriate activity, constitute the only good from the standpoint of sociology. They are the Social Forces.