The Meaning of Ethical Neutrality in Sociology and Economics
By "Value-Judgements" are to be understood, where nothing else is implied or expressly stated, practical evaluations of the unsatisfactory or satisfactory character of phenomena subject to our influence. The problem involved in the "freedom" of a given science from value-judgments of this kind, i.e., the validity and the meaning of this logical principle, is by no means identical with the question which is to be discussed shortly, namely, whether in teaching one should or should not declare one's acceptance of practical value-judgments, deduced from ethical principles, cultural ideals or a philosophical outlook. This question cannot be discussed scientifically. It is itself entirely a question of practical valuation, and cannot therefore be definitively settled. With reference to this issue, a wide variety of views is held, of which we shall only mention the two extremes. At one pole we find (a) the standpoint that the distinction between purely logically deducible and empirical factual assertions on the one hand, and practical, ethical or philosophical value-judgments on the other, is correct, but that, nevertheless (or perhaps, precisely because of this), both classes of problems properly belong within the area of instruction. At the other pole we encounter (b) the proposition that even when the distinction cannot be made in a logically complete manner, it is nevertheless desirable that the assertion of value-judgments should be held to a minimum.
The latter point of view seems to me to be untenable. Especially untenable is the distinction which is rather often made in our field between value-judgments of a partisan character and those which are non-partisan. This distinction only obscures the practical implications
of the preferences which are suggested to the audience. Once the asse tion of value-judgments from the academic platform is admitted, the contention that the university teacher should be entirely devoid of "passion" and that he should avoid all subjects which threater to arouse over-heated controversies constitutes a narrowminded bureaucratic opinion which every independent teacher must reject. Of the scholars who believed that they should not renounce the assertion of practical value-judgements in empirical discussions, it was the most passionate of them—such as Treitschke—and in his own way, Mommsen, who were the most tolerable. As a result of their intensely emotional tone, their audiences were enabled to discourt the influence of their evaluations in whatever distortion was introduced into their factual assertions. Thereby the audiences did for themselves what the lecturers were temperamentally prevented from doing. The effect on the minds of the students was thus guaranteed the same depth of moral feeling which, in my opinion, the proponents of the assertion of practical value-judgments in teaching want to protect, without the audience's being confused as to the logical disjunction between the different spheres. This confusion must of necessity occur whenever the exposition of empirical facts and the exhortation to take an evaluative position on important issues are both done with the same cool dispassionateness.
The first point of view (a) is acceptable and, can indeed be acceptable from the standpoint of its own proponents, only when the teacher sets as his unconditional duty, in every single case, even to the point where it involves the danger of making his lecture less lively or attractive, to make relentlessly clear to his audience, and especially to himself, which of his statements are statements of logically deduced or empirically observed facts and which are statements of practical evaluations. Once one has acknowledged the logical disjunction between the two spheres, it seems to me that the assumption of this attitude is an imperative requirement of intellectual honesty; in this case it is the absolutely minimal requirement.
On the other hand, the question whether one should in general assert practical value-judgments in teaching (even with this reservation is one of practical university policy. On that account, it must in the last analysis, be decided only with reference to those tasks which the individual, according to his own value-system, assigns to the universities. Those who on the basis of their qualifications as teachers assign to the universities and thereby to themselves the universal role of moulding human beings, of inculcating political, ethical, asthetic, cultural or other attitudes, will take a different position than those who believe it necessary to affirm the fact (and its consequences) that the academic lecture-hall achieves a really valuable influence only through specialized training by specially qualified persons. For the latter, therefore, "intellectual integrity" is the only specific virtue which it should seek to inculcate. The first point of view can be defended from as many different ultimate value-positions as the second. The second (which I personally accept) can be derived from a most enthusiastic as well as from a thoroughly modest estimate of the significance of specialized training (Fachbildung). In order to defend this view, one need not be of the opinion that everyone should become as specialized as possible. One may, on the contrary, hold the view in question because one does not wish to see the ultimate and highest personal decisions which a person must make regarding his life, confounded with specialized training—however highly one may estimate the significance of specialized training not only for general intellectual training but indirectly also for the self-discipline and ethical attitude of the young person. One may hold the latter view because one does not wish to see the student so influenced by the teacher's suggestions that he is prevented from solving his problems on the basis of his own conscience.
Professor Schmoller's favorable disposition towards the teacher's assertion of his own value-judgments in the classroom is thoroughly intelligible to me personally as the echo of a great epoch which he and his friends helped to create. But even he cannot deny the fact that for the younger generation the objective situation has changed Considerably in one important respect. Forty years ago there existed among the scholars working in our discipline, the widespread belief that of the various possible points of view in the domain of practical-political preferences, ultimately only one was the correct one. (Schmoller himself to be sure took this position only to a limited extent). Today this is no longer the case among the proponents of the assertion of professorial evaluations—as may easily be demonstrated. The legitimacy of the assertion of professorial evaluations is no longer defended in the name of an ethical imperative whose comparatively simple postulate of justice, both in its ultimate foundations as well as in its consequences, partly was, and partly seemed to be, relatively unambiguous and above all relatively impersonal (due to its specifically suprapersonal character). Rather, as the result of an inevitable development, it is now done in the name of a patchwork of cultural values, i.e., actually subjective demands on culture, or quite openly, in the name of the alleged "rights of the teacher's personality." One may well wax indignant over this, but one cannot-because it is a value-judgment—refute this point of view. Of all the types of prophecy, this "personally" tinted professorial type of propaecy is the only one which is altogether repugnant. An unprecedeated situation exists when a large number of officially accredited prophets do not do their preaching on the streets, or in churches or other public places or in sectarian conventicles, but rather feel themselves competent to enunciate their evaluations on ultimate questions "in the name of science" in govemmentally privileged lecture halls in which they are neither controlled, checked by discussion, nor subject to contradiction. It is an axiom of long standing, which Schmoller on one occasion vigorously espoused that what took place in the ecture hall should be held separate from the arena of public discussion. Although it is possible to contend that even scientifically | this may have its disadvantages, I take the view that a "lecture" should be different from a "speech." The calm rigor, matter-of-factness and sobriety of the lecture declines with definite pedagogture losses, when the substance and manner of public discussion are introduced, in the style of the press. This privilege of freedom from outside control seems in any case to be appropriate only to the sphere of the specialized qualifications of the professor. There is, however, no specialized qualification for personal prophecy, and for this reason it is not entitled to that privilege of freedom from external control. Furthermore, there should be no exploitation of the fact that the ie student, in order to make his way, must attend certain educational institutions and take courses with certain teachers, with the result that in addition to what is required, i.e., the stimulation and cultivaition of his capacity for observation and reasoning, and a certain body of factual information, the teacher slips in his own uncontradictable evaluations, which though sometimes of considerable interest, are often quite trivial.
Like everyone else, the professor has other facilities for the diffusion of his ideals. When these facilities are lacking, he can easily create them in an appropriate form, as experience has shown in the case of every honest attempt. But the professor should not demand the right as a professor to carry the marshal's baton of the statesman or reformer in his knapsack. This is just what he does when he uses the unassailability of the academic chair for the expression of political (or cultural-political) evaluations. In the press, in public meetings, in associations, in essays, in every avenue which is open to every other citizen, he can and should do what his God or daemon demands. Today the student should obtain, from his teacher in the lecture hall, the capacity: (1) to fulfill a given task in a workmanlike fashion; (2) definitely to recognize facts, even those which may be personally uncomfortable, and to distinguish them from his own evaluations; (3) to subordinate himself to his task and to repress the impulse to exhibit his personal tastes or other sentiments unnecessarily. This is vastly more important today than it was forty years ago when the problem did not even exist in this form. It is not true—as many people have insisted—that the "personality" is and should be a "whole" in the sense that it is injured when it is not exhibited on every possible occasion.
Every professional task has its own "inherent norms" and should be fulfilled accordingly. In the execution of his professional responsibility, a man should confine himself to it alone and should exclude whatever is not strictly proper to it—particularly his own loves and hates. The powerful personality does not manifest itself by trying to give everything a "personal touch" at every possible opportunity. The generation which is now growing up should, above all, again become used to the thought that "being a personality" is something that cannot be deliberately striven for and that there is only one way by which it can (perhaps!) be achieved: namely, the whole-hearted devotion to a "task" whatever it (and its derivative "demands of the hour") may be. It is poor taste to mix personal questions with specialized factual analyses. We deprive the word "vocation" of the only meaning which still retains ethical significance if we fail to carry out that specific kind of self-restraint which it requires. But whether the fashionable "cult of the personality" seeks to dominate the throne, public office or the professorial chair—its impressiveness is superficial. , it is very petty and it always has prejudicial consequences. Now I hope that it is not necessary for me to emphasize that the proponents of the views against which the present essay is directed can accomplish very little by this sort of cult of the "personality" for the very reason that it is "personal." In part they see the responsibilities of the professorial chair in another light, in part they have other educational ideals which I respect but do not share. For this reason we must seriously consider not only what they strive to achieve but also how the views which they legitimate by their authority influence a generation with an already extremely pronounced predisposition to overestimate its own importance.
Finally, it scarcely needs to be pointed out that many ostensible opponents of the assertion of political value-judgments from the academic chair are by no means justified when, in seeking to discredit cultural and social-political discussions which take place in public, they invoke the postulate of "ethical neutrality" which they often misunderstand so gravely. The indubitable existence of this spuriously "ethically neutral" tendentiousness, which (in our discipline) is manifested in the obstinate and deliberate partisanship of powerful interest groups, explains why a significant number of intellectually honest scholars still continue to assert their personal evaluations from their chair. They are too proud to identify themselves with this pseudo-ethical neutrality. Personally I believe that, in spite of this, what is right (in my opinion) should be done and that the influence of the value-judgments of a scholar who confines himself to championing them at appropriate occasions outside the classroom, will increase when it becomes known that he does only his "task" inside the classroom. But these statements are in their turn, all matters of evaluation, and hence scientifically undemonstrable.
In any case the fundamental principle which justifies the practice of asserting value-judgments in teaching can be consistently held only when its proponents demand that the spokesman for all party-preferences be granted the opportunity of demonstrating their validity on the academic platform.1 But in Germany, insistence on the right of professors to state their evaluations has been associated with the opposite of the demand for the equal representation of all (even the most "extreme") tendencies. Schmoller thought that he was being entirely consistent from his own premises when he declared that "Marxists and Manchesterites" were disqualified from holding academic positions although he was never so unjust as to ignore their scientific accomplishments. It is exactly on these points that I could never agree with our honored master. One obviously ought not justify the expression of evaluations in teaching—and then when the conclusions are drawn therefrom, point out that the university is a state institution for the training of "loyal" administrators. Such a procedure makes the university, not into a specialized technical school (which appears to be so degrading to many teachers) but rather into a theological seminary—except that it does not have the latter's religious dignity.
Attempts have been made to set up certain purely "logical" limits to the range of value-judgments which should be allowed from the academic chair. One of our foremost jurists once explained, in discussing his opposition to the exclusion of socialists from university posts, that he too would not be willing to accept an "anarchist" as a teacher of law since anarchists deny the validity of law in general —and he regarded his argument as conclusive. My own opinion is exactly the opposite. An anarchist can surely be a good legal scholar. And if he is such, then indeed the Archimedean point of his convictions, which is outside the conventions and presuppositions which are so self-evident to us, can equip him to perceive problems in the fundamental postulates of legal theory which escape those who take them for granted. Fundamental doubt is the father of knowledge. The jurist is no more responsible for "proving" the value of those cultural objects which are relevant to "law" than the physician is responsible for demonstrating that the prolongation of life is desirable under all conditions. Neither of them is in a position to do this with the means at their disposal. If, however, one wishes to turn the university into a forum for the discussion of values, then it obviously becomes a duty to permit the most unrestrained freedom of discussion of fundamental questions from all value-positions. Is this possible? Today the most decisive and important questions of practical and political values are excluded from German universities by the very nature of the present political situation. For all those to whom the interests of the nation are more important than any of its particular concrete institutions, a question of central importance is whether the conception which prevails today regarding the position of the monarch in Germany is reconcilable with the world-interests of the nation, and with the instruments (war and diplomacy) through which these are expressed. It is not always the worst patriots nor even anti-monarchists who give a negative answer to this question and who doubt the possibility of lasting success in both these spheres as long as very basic changes are not made. Everyone knows, however, that these vital questions of our national life cannot be discussed with full freedom in German universities.2 In view of the fact that certain value-questions which are of decisive political significance are permanently banned from university discussion, it seems to me to be only in accord with the dignity of a representative of science to be silent as well about such value-problems as he is allowed to treat.
But in no case, however, should the unresolvable question—unresolvable because it is ultimately a question of evaluation—as to whether one may, must, or should champion certain practical values in teaching, be confused with the purely logical discussion of the relationship of value-judgments to empirical disciplines such as sociology and economics. Any confusion on this point will impede the thoroughness of the discussion of the actual logical problem. Its solution will, however, not give any directives for answering the other question beyond two purely logical requirements, namely: clarity and an explicit separation of the different types of problems.
Nor need I discuss further whether the distinction between empirical statements of fact and value-judgments is "difficult" to make. It is. All of us, those of us who take this position as well as others, encounter the subject time and again. But the exponents of the so-called "ethical economics" particularly should be aware that even though the moral law is perfectly unfulfillable, it is nonetheless "imposed" as a duty. The examination of one's conscience would perhaps show that the fulfillment of our postulate is especially difficult, just because we reluctantly refuse to enter the very alluring area of values without a titillating "personal touch." Every teacher has observed that the faces of his students light up and they become more attentive when he begins to set forth his personal evaluations, and that the attendance at his lectures is greatly increased by the expectation that he will do so. Everyone knows furthermore that in the competition for students, universities in making recommendations for advancement, will often give a prophet, however minor,who can fill the lecture halls, the upper hand over a much superior scholar who does not present his own preferences. Of course, it is understood in those cases that the prophecy should leave sufficiently untouched the political or conventional preferences which are generally accepted at the time. The pseudo-"ethically-neutral" prophet who speaks for the dominant interests has, of course, better opportunities for ascent due to the influence which these have on the political powers-that-be. I regard all this as very undesirable, and I will also therefore not go into the proposition that the demand for the exclusion of value-judgments is "petty" and that it makes the lectures "boring." I will not touch upon the question as to whether lecturers on specialized empirical problems must seek above all to be "interesting." For my own part, in any case, I fear that a lecturer who makes his lectures stimulating by the insertion of personal evaluations will, in the long run, weaken the students' taste for sober empirical analysis.
I will acknowledge without further discussion that it is possible, under the semblance of eradicating all practical value-judgments, to Suggest such preferences with especial force by simply "letting the facts speak for themselves." The better kind of our parliamentary and electoral speeches operate in this way—and quite legitimately, given their purposes. No words should be wasted in declaring that all such procedures on the university lecture platform, particularly from the standpoint of the demand for the separation of judgments of face from judgments of value, are, of all abuses, the most abhorrent. The fact, however, that a dishonestly created illusion of the fulfillment of an ethical imperative can be passed off as the reality, constitutes no criticism of the imperative itself. At any rate, even if the teacher does not believe that he should deny himself the right of asserting value-judgments, he should make them absolutely explicit to the students and to himself.
Finally, we must oppose to the utmost the widespread view that scientific "objectivity" is achieved by weighing the various evaluations against one another and making a "statesman-like" compromise among them. Not only is the "middle way" just as undemonstrable scientifically (with the means of the empirical sciences) as the "most extreme" evaluations; rather, in the sphere of evaluations, it is the least unequivocal. It does not belong in the university—but rather in political programs and in parliament. The sciences, both normative and empirical, are capable of rendering an inestimable service to persons engaged in political activity by telling them that (1) these and these "ultimate" positions are conceivable with reference to this practical problem; (2) such and such are the facts which you must take into account in making your choice between these positions. And with this we come to the real problem.
Endless misunderstanding and a great deal of terminological-and hence sterile—conflict have taken place about the term "value-judgment." Obviously neither of these has contributed anything to the solution of the problem. It is, as we said in the beginning, quite clear that in these discussions, we are concerned with practical evaluations regarding the desirability or undesirability of social facts from ethical, cultural or other points of view. In spite of all that I have said, 3 the following "objections" have been raised in all seriousness: science strives to attain "valuable" results, meaning thereby logically and factually correct results which are scientifically significant; and that further, the selection of the subject-matter already involves an "evaluation." Another almost inconceivable misunderstanding which constantly recurs is that the propositions which I propose imply that empirical science cannot treat "subjective" evaluations as the subject-matter of its analysis—(although sociology and the whole theory of marginal utility in economics depend on the contrary assumption).
What is really at issue is the intrinsically simple demand that the investigator and teacher should keep unconditionally separate the establishment of empirical facts (including the "value-oriented" conduct of the empirical individual whom he is investigating) and hir own practical evaluations, i.e., his evaluation of these facts as satisfactory or unsatisfactory (including among these facts evaluations made by the empirical persons who are the objects of investigation.) These two things are logically different and to deal with them as though they were the same represents a confusion of entirely heterogeneous problems. In an otherwise valuable treatise, an author states "an investigator can however take his own evaluation as a 'fact' and then draw conclusions from it." What is meant here is as indisputedly correct as the expression chosen is misleading. Naturally it can be agreed before a discussion that a certain practical measure: for instance, the covering of the costs of an increase in the size of the army from the pockets of the propertied class should be presupposed in the discussion and that what are to be discussed are means for its execution. This is often quite convenient. But such a commonly postulated practical goal should not be called a "fact" in the ordinary sense but an "a priori end." That this is also of two-fold significance will be shown very shortly in the discussion of "means" even if the end which is postulated as "indiscussible" were as concrete as the act of lighting a cigar. In such cases, of course, discussion of the means is seldom necessary. In almost every case of a generally formulated purpose, as in the illustration chosen above, it is found that in the discussion of means, each individual understood something quite different by the ostensibly unambiguous end. Furthermore, exactly the same end may be striven after for very divergent ultimate reasons, and these influence the discussion of means. Let us however disregard this. No one will dispute the idea that a certain end may be commonly agreed on, while only the means of attaining it are discussed. Nor will anyone deny that this procedure can result in a discussion which is resolved in a strictly empirical fashion. But actually the whole discussion centers about the choice of ends (and not of "means" for a given end) ; in other words, in what sense can the evaluation, which the individual asserts, be treated, not as a fact but as the object of scientific criticism. If this question is not clearly perceived then all further discussion is futile.
We are not concerned with the question of the extent to which different types of evaluations may claim different degrees of normative dignity—in other words, we are not interested in the extent to which ethical evaluations, for example, differ in character from the question whether blondes are to be preferred to brunettes or some similar judgment of taste. These are problems in axiology, not in the methodology of the empirical disciplines. The latter are concerned only with the fact that the validity of a practical imperative as a norm and the truth-value of an empirical proposition are absolutely heterogeneous in character. Any attempt to treat these logically different types of propositions as identical only reduces the particular value of each of them. This error has been committed on many occasions, especially by Professor von Schmoller. 4 Respect for our master forbids me to pass over these points where I find myself unable to agree with him.
At first, I might make a few remarks against the view that the men existence of historical and individual variations in evaluations prcrves the necessarily "subjective" character of ethics. Even propositions about empirical facts are often very much disputed and there migit well be a much greater degree of agreement as to whether someone is to be considered a scoundrel than there would be (even among specialists) concerning., for instance, the interpretation of a mutilated inscription. I have not at all perceived the growing unanimity of all religious groups and individuals with respect to value-judgments which Schmoller claims to perceive. But in any case it is irrelevant to our problem. What we must vigorously oppose is the view that one may be "scientifically" contented with the conventional self-evidentness of very widely accepted value-judgments. The specific function of science, it seems to me, is just the opposite: namely, to ask questions about these things which convention makes self-evident. As a matter of fact, Schmoller and his associates did exactly this in their time. The fact that one investigates the influence of certain ethical or religious convictions on economic life and estimates it to be large under certain circumstances does not, for instance, imply the necessity of sharing or even esteeming those casually very significant convictions. Likewise, the imputation of a highly positive value to an ethical or religious phenomenon tells us nothing at all about whether its consequences are also to be positively valued to the same extent. Factual assertions tell us nothing about these matters, and the individual will judge them very differently according to his own religious and other evaluations. All this has nothing to do with the question under dispute. On the contrary, I am most emphatically opposed to the view that a realistic "science of ethics," i.e., the analysis of the influence which the ethical evaluations of a group of people have on their other conditions of life and of the influences which the latter, in their turn, exert on the former, can produce an "ethics" which will be able to say anything about what should happen. A "realistic" analysis of the astronomical conceptions of the Chinese, for instance—which showed the practical motives of their astronomy and the way in which they carried it on, at which results ithey arrived and why—would be equally incapable of demonstrating the correctness of this Chinese astronomy. Similarly the fact that the roman surveyors or the Florentine bankers (the latter even in the division of quite large fortunes) often came to results which were irreconcilable with trigonometry or the multiplication table, raises no doubts about the latter.
The empirical-psychological and historical analysis of certain evaluations with respect to the individual social conditions of their ercergence and continued existence can never, under any circumstances, lead to anything other than an "understanding" explanation. This is by no means negligible. It is desirable not only because of the incidental personal (and non-scientific) effect: namely, being able "to do justice" more easily to the person who really or apparently think; differently. It also has high scientific importance: (1) for purposes of an empirical causal analysis which attempts to establish the really decisive motives of human actions, and (2) for the communication of really divergent evaluations when one is discussing with a person who really or apparently has different evaluations from one's self. The real significance of a discussion of evaluations lies in its contribution to the understanding of what one's opponent—or one's self—really means—i.e., in understanding the evaluations which really and not merely allegedly separate the discussants and consequently in enabling one to take up a position with reference to this value. We are far removed, then, from the view that the demind for the exclusion of value-judgments in empirical analysis implies that discussions of evaluations are sterile or meaningless. For the recognition of their evaluative character is indeed the presupposition of all useful discussions of this sort. Such discussions assume an insight into the possibility of, in principle, unbridgeably divergent ultimate evaluations. "Understanding all" does not mean "pardoning all" nor does mere understanding of another's viewpoint as such lead, in principle, to its approval. Rather, it leads, at least as easily, and often with greater probability to the awareness of the issues and reasons which prevent agreement. This is a true proposition and it is certainly advanced by "discussions of evaluations." On the other hand, this method because it is of a quite different character, cannot create either a normative ethic or in general the binding force of an ethical "imperative." Everyone knows, furthermore, that the attainmeat of such an ethic is externally, at least, impeded by the relativizing effects of such discussions. This does not imply that they should be avoided on that account. Quite the contrary. An "ethical" conviction which is dissolved by the psychological "understanding" of other values is about as valuable as religious beliefs which are destroyed by scientific knowledge, which is of course a quite frequent occurrence. Finally, when Schmoller asserts that the exponents of "ethical neutrality" in the empirical disciplines can acknowledge only "formal" ethical truths (in the sense of the Critique of Practical Reason) a few comments are called for even though the problem, as such, is not integral to the present issue.
First, we should reject Schmoller's implication that ethical imperatives are identical with "cultural values"—even the highest of them. For, from a certain standpoint, "cultural values" are "obligatory"—even where they are in inevitable and irreconcilable conflict with every sort of ethics. Likewise, an ethic which rejects all cultural values is possible without any internal contradictions. In any case, these two value-spheres are not identical. The assertion that "formal" propositions, for example, those in the Kantian ethics, contain no material directives, represents a grave but widespread misunderstanding. The possibility of a normative ethics is not brought into question by the fact that there are problems of a practical sort for which it cannot, by itself, offer unambiguous directives. (Among these practical problems, I believe, are included in a particular manner, certain institutional, i.e., "social-political" problems.) Nor is the possibility of normative ethics placed in doubt by the fact that ethics is not the only thing in the world that is "valid"; rather it exists alongside of other value-spheres, the values of which can, under certain conditions, be realized only by one who takes ethical "responsibility" upon himself. This applies particularly to political action. It would be pusillanimous, in my opinion, to attempt to deny this conflict. This conflict moreover is not peculiar to the relations between politics and ethics, as the customary juxtaposition of "private" and "political" morality would have it. Let us investigate some of the "limits" of ethics referred to above.
The implications of the postulate of "justice" cannot be decided unambiguously by any ethic. Whether one, for example—as would correspond most closely with the views expressed by Schmoller—owes much to those who achieve much or whether one should demand much from those who can accomplish much; whether one should, e.g., in the name of justice (other considerations—for instance, that of the necessary "incentives"—being disregarded for the moment) accord great opportunities to those with eminent talents or whether on the contrary (like Babeuf) one should attempt to equalize the injustice of the unequal distribution of mental capacities through the rigorous provision that talented persons, whose talent gives them prestige, must not utilize their better opportunities for their own benefit—these questions cannot be definitely answered. The ethical problem in most social-political issues is, however, of this type.
But even in the sphere of personal conduct there are quite specific ethical problems which ethics cannot settle on the basis of its own presuppositions. These include above all, the basic questions: (a) whether the intrinsic value of ethical conduct—the "pure will" or the "conscience" as it used to be called—is sufficient for its justification, following the maxim of the Christian moralists: "The Christian acts rightly and leaves the consequences of his action to God"; or (b) whether the responsibility for the predictable consequences of the action is to be taken into consideration. All radical revolutionary political attitudes, particularly revolutionary "syndicalism," have their point of departure in the first postulate; all Redpolitik in the latter. Both invoke ethical maxims. But these maxims are in eternal conflict—a conflict which cannot be resolved by means of ethics alone.
Both these ethical maxims are of a strictly "formal" character. In this they resemble the well-known axioms of the Critique of Practical Reason. It is widely believed that as a result of this formalism, the latter did not generally contain substantive indications for the evaluation of action. This however is by no means true. Let us purposely take an example as distant as possible from politics to clarify the meaning of the much-discussed "merely formal" character of this type of ethics. If a man says of his erotic relationships with a woman, "At first our relationship was only a passion, but now it represents a value,"—the cool matter-of-factness of the Kantian Critique would express the first half of this sentence as follows: "At first, each of us was a means for the other" and would therewith claim that the whole sentence is a special case of that well-known principle, which people have been singularly willing to view as a strictly historically conditioned expression of an "individualistic" attitude, whereas it was, in truth, a brilliant formulation which covered an immeasurably large number of ethical situations, which must however be correctly understood. In its negative form and excluding any statement as to what would be the opposite of treating another person "as a means," it obviously contains: (1) the recognition of autonomous, extra-ethical spheres, (2) the delimitation of the ethical sphere from these, and finally, (3) the determination of the sense in which different degrees of ethical status may be imputed to activity oriented towards extra-ethical values. Actually, those value-spheres which permit or prescribe the treatment of the other "only as a means" are quite heterogeneous vis-a-vis ethics. This cannot be carried any further here; it shows, in any case, that the "formal" character of that highly abstract ethical proposition is not indifferent to the substantive content of the action. But the problem becomes even more complicated. The negative predicate itself, which was expressed in the words "only a passion," can be regarded as a degradation of what is most genuine and most appropriate in life, of the only, or, at any rate, the royal road away from the impersonal or supra-personal "value"—mechanisms which are hostile to life, away from enslavement to the lifeless routine of everyday existence and from the pretentiousness of unrealities handed down from on high. At any rate, it is possible to imagine a conception of this standpoint which—although scorning the use of the term "value" for the concrete facts of experience to which it refers—would constitute a sphere claiming its own "immanent" dignity in the most extreme sense of the word. Its claim to this dignity would not be invalidated by its hostility or indifference to everything sacred or good, to every ethical or aesthetic law, and to every evaluation of cultural phenomena or personality. Rather its dignity might be claimed just because of this hostility or indifference. Whatever may be our attitude towards this claim, it is still not demonstrable or "refutable" with the means afforded by any "science."
Every empirical consideration of this situation would, as the elder Mill remarked, lead to the acknowledgment of absolute polytheism as the only appropriate metaphysic. A non-empirical approach oriented to the interpretation of meaning, or in other words, a genuine axiology could not, on proceeding further, overlook the fact that a system of "values," be it ever so well-ordered, is unable to handle the situation's crucial issue. It is really a question not only of alternatives between values but of an irreconcilable death-struggle, like that between "God" and the "Devil." Between these, neither relativization nor compromise is possible. At least, not in the true sense. There are, of course, as everyone realizes in the course of his life, compromises, both in fact and in appearance, and at every point. In almost every important attitude of real human beings, the value-spheres cross and interpenetrate. The shallowness of our routinized daily existence in the most significant sense of the word consists indeed in the fact that the persons who are caught up in it do not become aware, and above all do not wish to become aware, of this partly psychologically, part pragmatically conditioned motley of irreconcilably antagonistic values. They avoid the choice between "God" and the "Devil" and their own ultimate decision as to which of the conflicting values will be dominated by the one, and which by the other. The fruit of the tree of knowledge, which is distasteful to the complacent but which is, nonetheless, inescapable, consists in the insight that every single important activity and ultimately life as a whole, if it is not to be permitted to run on as an event in nature but is instead to be consciously guided, is a series of ultimate decisions through which the soul—as in Plato—chooses its own fate, i.e., the meaning of its activity and existence. Probably the crudest misunderstanding which the representatives of this point of view constantly encounter is to be found in the claim that this standpoint is "relativistic"—that it is a philosophy of life which is based on a view of the interrelations of the value-spheres which is diametrically opposite to the one it actually holds, and which can be held with consistency only if it is based on a very special type of ("organic") metaphysics.
Returning to our special case, it may be asserted without the possibility of a doubt that as soon as one seeks to derive concrete directives from practical political (particularly economic and social-political) evaluations, (1) the indispensable means, and (2) the inevitable repercussions, and (3) the thus conditioned competition of numerous possible evaluations in their practical consequences, are all that an empirical discipline can demonstrate with the means at its disposal. Philosophical disciplines can go further and lay bare the "meaning" of evaluations, i.e., their ultimate meaningful structure and their meaningful consequences, in other words, they can indicate their "place" within the totality of all the possible "ultimate" evaluations and delimit their spheres of meaningful validity. Even such simple questions as the extent to which an end should sanction unavoidable means, or the extent to which undesired repercussions should be taken into consideration, or how conflicts between several concretely conflicting ends are to be arbitrated, are entirely matters of choice or compromise. There is no (rational or empirical) scientific procedure of any kind whatsoever which can provide us with a decision here. The social sciences, which are strictly empirical sciences, are the least fitted to presume to save the individual the difficulty of making a choice, and they should therefore not create the impression that they can do so.
Finally it should be explicitly noted that the recognition of the existence of this situation is, as far as our disciplines are concerned, completely independent of the attitude one takes toward the very brief remarks made above regarding the theory of value. For there is, in general, no logically tenable standpoint from which it could be denied except a hierarchical ordering of values unequivocally prescribed by ecclesiastical dogmas. I need not consider whether there really are persons who assert that such problems as (a) does a concrete event occur thus and so or otherwise, or (b) why do the concrete events in question occur thus and so and not otherwise, or (c) does a given event ordinarily succeed another one according to a certain law and with what degree of probability—are not basically different from the problems: (a1) what should one do in a concrete situation, or (b2) from which standpoints may those situations be satisfactory or unsatisfactory, or (c3) whether they are—whatever their form—generally formulatable propositions (axioms) to which these standpoints can be reduced. There are many who insist further that there is no logical disjunction between such equiries as, (a) in which direction will a concrete situation (or generally, a situation of a certain type) develop and with what greater degree of probability in which particular direction than in any other and (b) a problem which investigates whether one should attempt to influence the development of a certain situation in a given direction—regardless of whether it be the one in which it would also move if left alone, or the opposite direction or one which is different from either. There are those who assert that (a) the problem as to which attitudes towards any given problem specified persons or an unspecified number of persons under specified conditions will probably or even certainly take and (b) the problem as to whether the attitude which emerged in the situation referred to above is right—are in no way different from one another. The proponents of such views will resist any statement to the effect that the problems in the above-cited jutxapositions do not have even the slightest connection with one another and that they really are "to be separated from one another." These persons will insist furthermore that their position is not in contradiction with the requirements of scientific thinking. Such an attitude is by no means the same as that of an author who conceding the absolute heterogeneity of both types of problems, nevertheless, in one and the same book, on one and the same page, indeed in a principal and subordinate clause of one and the same sentence, makes statements bearing on each of the two heterogeneous problems referred to above. Such a procedure is strictly a matter of choice. All that can be demanded of him is that he does not unwittingly (or just to be clever) deceive his readers concerning the absolute heterogeneity of the problems. Personally I am of the opinion that nothing is too "pedantic" if it is useful for the avoidance of confusions.
Thus, the discussion of value-judgments can have only the following functions:
- The elaboration and explication of the ultimate, internally "consistent" value-axioms, from which the divergent attitudes are derived. People are often in error, not only about their opponent's evaluations, but also about their own. This procedure is essentially an operation which begins with concrete particular evaluations and analyzes their meanings and then moves to the more general level of irreducible evaluations. It does not use the techniques of an empirical discipline and it produces no new knowledge of facts. Its "validity" is similar to that of logic.
- The deduction of "implications" (for those accepting certain value-judgments) which follow from certain irreducible value-axioms, when the practical evaluation of factual situations is based on these axioms alone. This deduction depends on one hand, on logic, and on the other, on empirical observations for the completest possible casuistic analyses of all such empirical situations as are in principle subject to practical evaluation.
- The determination of the factual consequences which the realization of a certain practical evaluation must have: (1) in consequence of being bound to certain indispensable means, (2) in consequence of the inevitability of certain, not directly desired repercussions. These purely empirical observations may lead us to the conclusion that (a) it is absolutely impossible to realize the object of the preference, even in a remotely approximate way, because no means of carrying it out can be discovered; (b) the more or less considerable improbability of its complete or even approximate realization, either for the same reason or because of the probable appearance of undesired repercussions which might directly or indirectly render the realization undesirable; (c) the necessity of taking into account such means or such repercussions as the proponent of the practical postulate in question did not consider, so that his evaluation of end, means, and repercussions becomes a new problem for him. Finally: d) the uncovering of new axioms (and the postulates to be drawn from them) which the proponent of a practical postulate did not take into consideration. Since he was unaware of those axioms, he did not formulate an attitude towards them although the execution of his own postulate conflicts with the others either (1) in principle or (2) as a result of the practical consequences, (i.e., logically or actually). In (1) it is a matter in further discussion of problems of type (a); in (2), of type (c).
Far from being meaningless, value-discussions of this type can be of the greatest utility as long as their potentialities are correctly understood.
- Hence we cannot be satisfied with the Dutch principle: i.e., emancipation of even theological faculties from confessional reuirements, together with the freedom to found universitics as long as the following conditions are observed: guarantee of finances, maintenance of standards as to qualifications of teachers and the private right to found chairs as a patron’s gift to the university. This gives the advantage to those with large sums of money and to groups which are already in power. Only clerical circles have, as far as we know, made use of this privilege. ↩
- This is by no means peculiar to Germany. In almost every country there exist, openly or hidden, actual restraints. The only differences are in the character of the particular value-questions which are thus excluded. ↩
- I must refer here to what I have said in other essays in this volume (the possible inadequacies of particular formulations on certain points do not affect any essential aspects of the issue), As to the “irreconcilability” of certain ultimate evaluations in a certain sphere of problems, cf. G. Radbruch’s Etnfuhrung in die Rechtwissenschaft (2d ed., 1913). I diverge from him on certain points but these are of no significance for the problem discussed here. ↩
- In his essay on ‘‘Volkswirtschaftslehre” in the Handworterbuch der Staatswissenschaften. ↩
- Since not only the distinction between evaluation and value-relations but also the distinction bctween evaluation and value-interpretation (i.e., the elaboration of the various possible meaningful attitudes towards a given phenomena) is very often not clearly made and since the consequent ambiguities impede the analysis of the logical nature of history, I will refer the reader to the remarksin “Critical Studies in the Logic of the Cultural Sciences.” These remarks are not, however, to be regarded as in any way conclusive. ↩
- This is an empirical statement and nothing but a simple inversion of the causal proposition: y is an effect of x. ↩
- The empirical analysis referred to above does not attempt to determine their normative correctness. ↩
The utility of a discussion of practical evaluations at the right place and in the correct sense is, however, by no means exhausted with such direct "results." When correctly conducted, it can be extremely valuable for empirical research in the sense that it provides it with problems-for investigation.
The problems of the empirical disciplines are, of course, to be solved "non-evaluatively." They are not problems of evaluation. But the problems of the social sciences are selected by the value-relevance of the phenomena treated. Concerning the significance of the expression "relevance to values" I refer to my earlier writings and above all to the works of Heinrich Rickert and will forbear to enter upon that question here. It should only be recalled that the expression "relevance to values" refers simply to the philosophical interpretation of that specifically scientific "interest" which determines the selection of a given subject-matter and the problems of an empirical analysis.
In empirical investigation, no "practical evaluations" are legitimated by this strictly logical fact. But together with historical experience, it shows that cultural (i.e., evaluative) interests give purely empirical scientific work its direction. It is now clear that these evaluative interests can be made more explicit and differentiated by the analysis of value-judgments. These considerably reduce, or at any rate lighten, the task of "value-interpretation"—an extremely important preparation for empirical work—for the scientific investigator and especially the historian.5
Instead of entering once more on this basic methodological problem of value-relation, I will deal in greater detail with certain issues which are of practical importance for our disciplines.
The belief is still widespread that one should, and must, or at any rate, can derive value-judgments from factual assertions about "trends." But even from the most unambiguous "trends," unambiguous norms can be derived only with regard to the prospectively most appropriate means—and then only when the irreducible evaluation is already given. The evaluations themselves cannot be derived from these "tendencies." Here, of course, the term "means" is being used in the broadest sense. One whose irreducible value is, for instance, the power of the state, may view an absolutistic or a radical democratic constitution as the relatively more appropriate means, depending on the circumstances. It would be highly ludicrous to interpret a change from a preference for one of these types of constitutions to another as a change in the "ultimate" evaluation itself. Obviously, however, the individual is constantly being faced with the problem as to whether he should give up his hopes in the realizability of his practical evaluations if he is aware of a clear-cut developmental tendency (a) which necessitates, if the goal is to be realized, the application of new means which are ethically or otherwise dubious; or (b) which requires the taking into account of repercussions which are abhorrent to him, or (c) which finally renders his efforts quixotic as far as their success is concerned. But the perception of such "developmental tendencies" which are modifiable only with more or less difficulty by no means represents a unique case. Each new fact may necessitate the re-adjustment of the relations between end and indispensable means, between desired goals and unavoidable subsidiary consequences. But whether this readjustment should take place and what should be the practical conclusions to be drawn there-from is not answerable by empirical science—in fact it can not be answered by any science whatsoever. One may, for example, demonstrate ever so concretely to the convinced syndicalist that his action is socially "useless" i.e., it is not likely to be successful in the modification of the external class position of the proletariat, and that he even weakens this greatly by generating "reactionary" attitudes, but still—for him—if he is really faithful to his convictions—this proves nothing. And this is so, not because he is mad but because from his point of view, he can be "right"—as we shall discuss shortly. On the whole, people are strongly inclined to adapt themselves to what promises success, not only—as is self-evident—with respect to the means or to the extent that they seek to realize their ideals, but even to the extent of giving up these very ideals. In Germany this mode of behavior is glorified by the name Realpolitik. In any case, it is not easily intelligible why the practitioners of an empirical science should feel the need of furthering this kind of behavior by providing their salute of approval for existing "trends." Nor do we see why empirical scientists should transform the adaptation to these "trends" from an ultimate value-problem, to be solved only by the individual as his conscience dictates with reference to each particular situation, into a principle ostensibly based on the authority of a "science."6
In a sense, successful political action is always the "art of the possible." Nonetheless, the possible is often reached only by striving to attain the impossible that lies beyond it. Those specific qualities of our culture, which, despite our differences in viewpoint, we all esteem more or less positively, are not the products of the only consistent ethic of "‘adaptation’ to the possible," namely, the bureaucratic morality of Confucianism. I, for my part, will not try to dissuade the nation from the view that actions are to be judged not merely by their instrumental value but by their intrinsic value as well. In any case, the failure to recognize this fact impedes our understanding of reality. To cite the syndicalist again: it is senseless even logically to criticize in terms of its "instrumental value" an action which—if consistent—must be guided by its "intrinsic value." The central concern of the really consistent syndicalist must be to preserve in himself certain attitudes which seem to him to be absolutely valuable and sacred, as well as to induce them in others, whenever possible. The ultimate aim of his actions which are, indeed, doomed in advance to absolute failure, is to give him the subjective certainty that his attitudes are "genuine," i.e., have the power of "proving" themselves in action and of showing that they are not mere swagger. For this purpose, such actions are perhaps the only means. Aside from that—if it is consistent—its kingdom, like that of every "absolute value" ethics, is not of this world. It can be shown strictly "scientifically" that this conception of his ideal is the only internally consistent one and cannot be refuted by external "facts." I think that a service is thereby rendered to the proponents as well as the opponents of syndicalism—one which they can rightly demand of science. Nothing is ever gained in any scientific sense whatever by "on the one hand," and "on the other," by seven reasons "for" and six "against" a certain event (for instance, the general strike) and by weighing them off against one another in cameralistic fashion or like modern Chinese administrative memoranda. The task of an ethically neutral science in the analysis of syndicalism is completed when it has reduced the syndicalistic standpoint to its most rational and internally consistent form and has empirically investigated the pre-conditions for its existence and its practical consequences. Whether one should or should not be a syndicalist can never be proved without reference to very definite metaphysical premises which are never demonstrable by science. If an officer blows himself up with his fortifications rather than surrender, his action may, in a given case, be absolutely futile in every respect, but the existence or non-existence of the attitude which impels such an action without inquiring into its utility is not a matter of indifference. In any case, it would be just as incorrect to designate it as "meaningless" as would be such a designation of the consistent syndicalist's action. It is not particularly appropriate for a professor to recommend such Cato-like acts of courage from the comfortable heights of a university chair. But he is also not required to laud the opposite extreme and to declare that it is a duty to accommodate one's ideals to the opportunities which are rendered available by existing "trends" and situations.
We have been making repeated use of the expression "adaptation" (Anpassung) in a meaning which has been sufficiently clear in each context. But actually it has two meanings: (1) the adaptation of the means for attaining a given ultimate goal in a particular situation (Realpolitik in the narrower sense), and (2) adaptation to the chances, real or imaginary, for immediate success in the selection of one's ultimate value-standpoint from among the many possible ultimate value-standpoints (this is the type of Realpolitik which our government has followed for the last 27 years with such notable success!). But its connotations are by no means exhausted with these two. For this reason, I think that it is advisable to drop this widely misused term entirely when we discuss our problem—evaluative problems as well as others. It is entirely ambiguous as a scientific term, although it perpetually recurs both as an "explanation" (of the occurrence of certain ethical views in certain social groups under certain conditions) and as an "evaluation" (e.g., of these factually existing ethical views which are said to be objectively "appropriate" and hence objectively "correct" and valuable).
It is not very helpful in any of these usages since it must always be interpreted in order for the propositions in which it is used to be understood. It was originally used in biology and if it is understood in its biological meaning, i.e., as the relatively determinable chance, given by the environment, for a social group to maintain its own psycho-physical heritage through reproduction, then the social strata which are economically the best provided for and whose lives are the most rationally regulated, are according to birth statistics, the worst adapted. The few Indians who lived in the Salt Lake area before the Mormon migration were in the biological sense—as well as in all the other of its many conceivable empirical meanings—just as well or poorly "adapted" as the later populous Mormon settlements. This term adds absolutely nothing to our empirical understanding, although we easily delude ourselves that it does. Only in the case of two otherwise absolutely identical organizations, can one assert that a particular concrete difference is more conducive to the continued existence of the organization which has that characteristic, and which is therefore "better adapted" to the given conditions. But as regards the evaluation of the above situation, one person may assert that the greater numbers and the material and other accomplishments and characteristics which the Mormons brought there and developed, are a proof of the superiority of the Mormons over the Indians, while another person who abominates the means and subsidiary effects involved in the Mormon ethics which are responsible at least in part for those achievements, may prefer the desert and the romantic existence of the Indians. No science of any kind can purport to be able to dissuade these persons from their respective views. Here we are already confronted with the problem of the unarbitratable reconciliation of end, means, and subsidiary consequences.
Strictly and exclusively empirical analysis can provide a solution only where it is a question of a means adequate to the realization of an absolutely unambiguously given end. The proposition: x is the only means by which y can be attained, is in fact merely the reverse of the proposition: y is the effect of x. The term "adaptedness" (and all other related terms) do not provide—and this is the main thing—even the slightest hint about the value-judgments which they contain and which they actually obscure—just as does for example, the recently favored term "human economy" (Men schenökonomie) which in my opinion is fundamentally confused. Depending on how one uses the term, either everything or nothing in society is "adapted." Conflict cannot be excluded from social life. One can change its means, its object, even its fundamental direction and its bearers, but it cannot be eliminated. There can be, instead of an external struggle of antagonistic persons for external objects, an inner struggle of mutually loving persons for subjective values and therewith, instead of external compulsion, an inner control (in the form of erotic or charitable devotion). Or it can take the form of a subjective conflict in the individual's own mind. It is always present and its influence is often greatest when it is least noticed, i.e., the more its course takes the form of indifferent or complacent passivity or self-deception, or when it operates as "selection." "Peace" is nothing more than a change in the form of the conflict or in the antagonists or in the objects of the conflict, or finally in the chances of selection. Obviously, absolutely nothing of a general character can be said as to whether such shifts can withstand examination according to an ethical or other value-judgment. Only one thing is indisputable: every type of social order, without exception, must, if one wishes to evaluate it, be examined with reference to the opportunities which it affords to certain types of persons to rise to positions of superiority through the operation of the various objective and subjective selective factors. For empirical investigation is not really exhaustive nor does there exist the necessary factual basis for an evaluation, regardless of whether it is consciously subjective or claims objective validity. This should at least be borne in mind by our many colleagues who believe that they can analyze social change by means of the concept of "progress." This leads to a closer consideration of this important concept.
One can naturally use the term "progress" in an absolutely non-evaluative way if one identifies it with the "continuation" of some concrete process of change viewed in isolation. But in most cases, the situation is more complicated. We will review here a few cases from different fields, in which the entanglement with value-judgments is most intricate.
In the sphere of the emotional, affective content of our own subjective behavior, the quantitative increase and—what is usually bound up with it—the qualitative diversification of the possible modes of response can be designated as the progress of psychic "differentiation" without reference to any evaluations. This usually implies the preference for an increase in the "scope" or "capacity" of a concrete "mind" or—what is already an ambiguous term—of an "epoch" (as in Simmel's Schopenhauer und Nietzche). Undoubtedly such a "progressive differentiation" does exist. Of course, it must be recognized that it is not always really present when it is believed to be. An increased responsiveness to nuances—due sometimes to the increased rationalization and intellectualization of life and sometimes to the increase in the amount of importance which the individual attributes to all his actions (even the least significant)—can very often lead to the illusion of progressive differentiation. This responsiveness can, of course, either indicate or promote this progressive differentiation. Appearances are deceitful, however, and I think that the range of this illusion is rather considerable. Be that as it may, it exists, and whether one designates progressive differentiation as "progress" is a matter of terminological convenience. But as to whether one should evaluate it as "progress" in the sense of an increase in "inner richness" cannot be decided by any empirical discipline. The empirical disciplines have nothing at all to say about whether the various possibilities in the sphere of feeling which have just emerged or which have been but recently raised to the level of consciousness and the new "tensions" and "problems" which are often associated with them are to be evaluated in one way or another. But whoever wishes to state a value-judgment regarding the fact of differentiation as such—which no empirical discipline can forbid—and seeks a point of view from which this can be done, will come upon the question as to the price which is "paid" for this process (insofar as it is more than an intellectualistic illusion). We should not overlook the fact that the pursuit of "experience"—which has been having a great vogue in Germany—might, to a large extent, be the product of a diminishing power to stand the stress of everyday life and that the publicity which the individual feels the increasing need of giving to his "experience," can perhaps be evaluated as a loss in the sense of privacy and therewith in the sense of propriety and dignity. At any rate, in the sphere of the evaluation of subjective experience, "progressive differentiation" is to be identified with an increase in "value" only in the intellectualistic sense of an increase in self-awareness or of an increasing capacity for expression and communication.
The situation is somewhat more complicated if we consider the applicability of the concept of "progress" (in the evaluative sense) in the sphere of art. It is from time to time energetically disputed, rightly or wrongly, depending on the sense in which it is meant. There has never been an evaluative approach to art for which the dichotomy between "art" and "non-art" has sufficed. Every approach distinguishes between "attempt" and "realization," between the values of various realizations and between the complete fulfillment and that which was abortive in one or more points but which was not nevertheless entirely worthless. This is true for the treatment not only of a concrete, individual creative action, but also for the artistic strivings of whole epochs. The concept of "progress" when applied to such situations is of trivial significance because of its usual utilization for purely technical problems. But in itself it is not meaningless.
The problem is quite different as far as the purely empirical history of art and the empirical sociology of art are concerned. For the first, there is naturally no "progress" in art with respect to the aesthetic evaluation of works of art as meaningful realizations. An aesthetic evaluation cannot be arrived at with the means afforded by an empirical approach and it is indeed quite outside its province. The empirical history of art can use only a technical, rational concept of "progress," the utility of which follows from the fact that it limits itself entirely to the establishment of the technical means which a certain type of artistic impulse applies when the end is definitely given. The significance of these unpretentious investigations is easily underestimated or else they are misinterpreted in the fashion of the modish but quite unconsequential and muddle-headed type of "connoisseur" who claims to have "understood" an artist as a result of having peered through the blinds of the artist's studio and examined what is obvious in his style, i.e., his "manner." "Technical" progress, correctly understood, does indeed belong to the domain of art history, because it (and its influence on the artistic impulse) is a type of phenomenon which is determinable in a strictly empirical way, i.e., without aesthetic evaluation. Let us cite certain illustrations which will clarify the meaning of "technical" as used in the history of art.
The origin of the Gothic style was primarily the result of the technically successful solution of an architectural problem, namely, the problem of the technical optimum in the construction of abutments for the support of the cross-arched vault, in connection with certain details which we shall not discuss here. Quite concrete architectural problems were solved. The knowledge that in this way a certain type of vaulting of non-quadratic areas was also made possible awakened the passionate enthusiasm of the early and perhaps forever unknown architects to whom we owe the development of the new architectural style. Their technical rationalism applied the new principle with a thoroughgoing consistency. Their artistic impulse used it as a means for fulfilling artistic tasks which had until then been scarcely suspected and swung sculpture in the direction of a "feeling for the body" which was stimulated primarily by the new methods of treating space and surface in architecture. The convergence of this primarily technically conditioned revolution with certain largely socially and religiously conditioned feelings supplied most of those problems on which the artists of the Gothic epoch worked. When the history and sociology of art have uncovered these purely factual technical, social, and psychological conditions of the new style, they have exhausted their purely empirical task. In doing so, they do not "evaluate" the Gothic style in relation, for instance, to the Romanesque or the Renaissance style, which, for its own part, was very strongly oriented towards the technical problems of the cupola and therewith toward the socially conditioned changes in the architectural problem-complex. Nor, as long as it remains empirical, does art-history "evaluate" the individual building esthetically. The interest in works of art and in their aesthetically relevant individual characteristics is heteronomously given. It is given by the aesthetic value of the work of art, which cannot be established by the empirical disciplines with the means which they have at their disposal.
The same is true in the history of music. From the standpoint of the interests of the modern European ("value-relevance"!) its central problem is: why did the development of harmonic music from the universally popularly developed folk polyphony take place only in Europe and in a particular epoch, whereas everywhere else the rationalization of music took another and most often quite opposite direction: interval development by division (largely the fourth) instead of through the harmonic phrase (the fifth). Thus at the center stands the problem of the origin of the third in its harmonic meaningful interpretation, i.e., as a unit in the triad; further: the harmonic chromatics; and beyond that, the modern musical rhythm (the heavy and light beats)—instead of purely metronomic measuring —a rhythm without which modern instrumental music is inconceivable. Here again we are concerned primarily with problems of purely technical "progress." The fact, for example, that chromatic music was known long before harmonic music as a means of expressing "passion" is shown by the ancient chromatic (apparently homophonous) music for the passionate dochmiacs in the recently discovered Euripides fragments. The difference between ancient music and the chromatic music which the great musical experimenters of the Renaissance created in a tremendous rational striving for new musical discoveries and indeed for the purpose of giving musical form to "passion," lay not in the impulse to artistic expression but rather in the technical means of expression. The technical innovation, however, was that this chromatic music developed into our harmonic interval and not into the Hellenic melodic half and quarter tone distance. This development, in its turn, had its causes in the preceding solutions of technical problems. This was the case in the creation of rational notation (without which modern composition would not even be conceivable) ; even before this, in the invention of certain instruments which were conducive to the harmonic interpretation of musical intervals; and above all, in the creation of rationally polyphonous vocal music. In the early Middle Ages, the monks of the northern Occidental missionary area had a major share in these accomplishments without even a suspicion of the later signifiCance of their action. They rationalized the popular folk polyphony foi their own purposes instead of following the Byzantine monks in allowing the music to be arranged for them by the Hellenically trained melopoios. Certain socially and religiously conditioned characteristics of the internal and external situation of the Occidental Christian church enabled this musical problem-complex which was essentially "technical" in nature, to emerge from the rationalism peculiar to Occidental monasticism. On the other hand, the adoption and rationalization of the dance measure, which is the source of the musical form expressed in the sonata, was conditioned by certain forms of social life in the Renaissance. Finally the development of the pianoforte —one of the most important technical instruments of modern musical development—and its dissemination in the bourgeois class, was rooted in the specific character of the rooms in the buildings in the North European culture area. All these are "progressive" steps in musical technique and they have greatly influenced the history of music. The empirical history of music can and must analyze these features of its development without undertaking, on its own part, an aestnetic evaluation of the worth of musical art. Technical "progress" has quite often led to achievements which, when evaluated æsthetically, were highly imperfect. The focus of interest, i.e., the object which is to be historically explained, is heteronomously given to the history of music by its æsthetic significance.
In the field of painting, the elegant unpretentiousness of the formulation of the problem in Wälfflin's Klassische Kunst is a quite outstanding example of the possibilities of empirical work.
The complete distinction between the evaluative sphere and the empirical sphere emerges characteristically in the fact that the application of a certain particularly "progressive" technique tells us nothing at all about the æsthetic value of a work of art. Works of art with an ever so "primitive" technique—for example, paintings made in ignorance of perspective—may æsthetically be absolutely equal to those created completely by means of a rational technique, assuming of course that the artist confined himself to tasks to which "primitive" technique was adequate. The creation of new techniques signifies primarily increasing differentiation and merely offers the possibility of increasing the "richness" of a work of art in the sense of intensifying its value. Actually it has often had the reverse effect of "impoverishing" the feeling for form. Empirically and causally speaking, however, changes in "technique" (in the highest sense of the word) are indeed the most important factors in the development of art.
Not only art-historians, but historians in general usually declare that they will not allow themselves to be deprived of the right of asserting political, cultural, ethical, and æsthetic value-judgments. They even claim that they cannot do their work without them. Methodology is neither able nor does it aim to prescribe to anyone what he should put into a literary work. It claims for itself only the right to state that certain problems are logically different from certain other problems and that their confusion in a discussion results in the mutual misunderstanding of the discussants. It claims furthermore that the treatment of one of these types of problems with the means afforded by empirical science or by logic is meaningful, but that the same procedure is impossible in the case of the other. A careful examination of historical works quickly shows that when the historian begins to "evaluate," causal analysis almost always ceases—to the prejudice of the scientific results. He runs the risk, for example, of "explaining" as the result of a "mistake" or of a "decline" what is perhaps the consequence of ideals different from his own, and so he fails in his most important task, that is, the task of "understanding." The misunderstanding may be explained by reference to two factors. The first, to remain in the sphere of art, derives from the fact the artistic works may be treated, aside from the purely æsthetically evaluative approach and the purely empirical-causal approach, by still a third, i.e., the value-interpretative approach. There cannot be the least doubt as to the intrinsic value of this approach and its indispensability for every historian. Nor is there any doubt that the ordinary reader of historical studies of art also expects this sort of treatment. It must, however, be emphasized that in its logical structure, it is not identical with the empirical approach.
Thus it may be said: whoever wishes to do empirical research in the history of art must be able to "understand" artistic productions. This is, obviously enough, inconceivable without the capacity for evaluating them. The same thing is true, obviously, for the political historian, the literary historian, the historian of religion, or of philosophy. Of course, this is completely irrelevant to the logical structure of historical study.
We will treat of this later. Here we should discuss only the sense in which, apart from æsthetic evaluation, one can speak of "progress" in the history of art. It has been seen that this concept has a technical and rational significance, referring to the means used for the attainment of an artistic end. In this sense it is relevant to the empirical analysis of art. It is now time to examine this concept of "rational" progress and to analyze its empirical or non-empirical character. For what has been said above is only a particular case of a universal phenomenon. Windelband's definition of the subject-matter of his History of Philosophy Tuft's translation, p. 9, 2nd edition) as "... the process in which European humanity has embodied in scientific conceptions its views of the world ..." conditions the practical use in his own brilliant work of a specific conception of "progress" which is derived from this cultural value-relevance. This concept of progress which, although by no means imperative for every "history" of philosophy, applies, given the same cultural value-relevance, not only to a history of philosophy and to the history of any other intellectual activity but (here I differ from Windelband [p. 7, No. 1, Section 2]) to every kind of history. Nonetheless, in what follows we will use the term, rational "progress" in the sense in which it is employed in sociology and economics. European and American social and economic life is "rationalized" in a specific way and in a specific sense. The explanation of his rationalization and the analysis of related phenomena is one of the chief tasks of our disciplines. Therewith there re-emerges the problem, touched on, but left open in our discussion of the history of art: namely, what is really meant when we designate a series of events as ''rational progress"?
There is a recurrence here of the widespread confusion of the three following meanings of the term "progress": (1) merely "progressive" differentiation, (2) progress of technical rationality in the utilizatior of means and, finally (3) increase in value. A subjectively "rational" action is not identical with a rationally "correct" action, i.e., one which uses the objectively correct means in accord with scientific knowledge. Rather, it means only that the subjective intention of the individual is planfully directed to the means which are regarded as correct for a given end. Thus a progressive, subjective rationalization of conduct is not necessarily the same as progress in the direction of rationally or technically "correct" behavior. Magic, for example, has been just as systematically "rationalized" as physics. The earliest intentionally rational therapy involved the almost complete rejection of the cure of empirical symptoms by empirically tested herbs and potions in favor of the exorcism of (what was thought to be) the "real" (magical, dæmonic) cause of the ailment. Formally, it had exactly the same highly rational structure as many of the most important developments in modern therapy. But we do not look on these priestly magical therapies as "progress" towards a "correct" mode of action as contrasted with rule-of-thumb empiricism. Furthermore, not every "progressive" step in the use of "correct" means is achieved by "progress" in subjective rationality. An increase in subjectively rational conduct can lead to objectively more "efficient" conduct but it is not inevitable. But if, in a single case, the proposition is correct that measure x is, let us say, the only means of attaining the result y6 This is an empirical statement and nothing but a simple inversion of the causal proposition: y is an effect of x. and if this proposition—which is empirically establishable—is consciously used by people for the orientation of their activity to attain the result y, then their conduct is oriented in a "technically correct" manner. If any aspect of human conduct (of any sort whatsoever) is oriented in a technically more correct manner than it was previously,technical progress exists. Only an empirical discipline, which accepts the standard as unambiguously given, can determine whether "technical progress" exists.
Given a specified end, then it is possible to use the terms "technical correctness" and "technical progress" in the application of means, without any insuperable dangers of ambiguity. ("Technique" is used here in its broadest sense, as rational action in general: in all spheres, including the political, social, educational, and propagandist manipulation and domination of human beings.) Only when a specified condition is taken as a standard can we speak of progress in a given sphere of technique, for example, commercial technique or legal technique. We should make explicit that the term "progress" even in this sense is usually only approximately precise because the various technically rational principles conflict with one another and a compromise can never be achieved from an "objective" standpoint but only from that of the concrete interests involved at the time. We may also speak of "economic" progress towards a relative optimum of want-satisfaction under conditions of given resources—if it is assumed that there are given wants, that all these wants and their rank order are accepted, and that finally a given type of economic order exists—and with the reservation that preferences regarding the duration, certainty and exhaustiveness, respectively, of the satisfaction of these wants may often conflict with each other.
Attempts have been made to derive the possibility of unambiguous and thereby purely economic evaluations from this. A characteristic example of this is the case cited by Professor Liefmann concerning the intentional destruction of goods in order to satisfy the profit-interests of the producers when the price has fallen below cost. This action is then "objectively" evaluated as "economically correct." But the flaw in this assertion is that it—and every smiliar statemen—treats a number of presuppositions as self-evident when they real y are not self-evident: first, that the interests of the individual not only often do continue beyond his death, but that they should always do so. Without this leap from the "is" category to the "ought" category; this allegedly "purely economic" evaluation could not be made in any clear-cut fashion. Otherwise one cannot speak of the interests of producers and consumers as if they were the interests of persons who live on indefinitely. The individual's taking into account of the interests of his heirs is, however, not a purely economic datum. For concrete human beings are substituted impersonal interests who use "capital" in "plants" and who exist for the sake of these plants. This is a fiction which is useful for theoretical purposes, but even as a fiction it does not apply to the position of the worker, especially the childless worker. Secondly, it ignores the fact of "class position" which, under competitive market conditions, can interfere with the provision of certain strata of consumers with goods, not only in spite of, but indeed in consequence of the "optimally" profitable distribution of capital and labor in the various branches of production. That "optimally" profitable distribution which conditions the constancy of capital investment, is for its part, dependent on the distribution of power between the different classes, the consequences of which in concrete cases, can (but need not necessarily) weaken the position of those strata on the market. Thirdly, it ignores the possibility of persistently irreconcilable conflicts of interest between members of various political groups and takes an a priori position in favor of the "free trade argument." The latter is thus transformed from a very useful heuristic instrument into a by no means self-evident evaluation as soon as one begins to derive value-judgments from it. When, however, the attempt to avoid this conflict is made by assuming the political unity of the world economic system—as is theoretically allowable—the destruction of those consumable goods in the interest of the producer's and consumer's optimum return requires that the forcus of the criticism be shifted. The criticism should then be directed against the whole principle as such of market provision by means of such indicators as are given by the optimal returns, expressive in money, to the economic units participating in exchange. An organization of the provision of goods which is not based on the competitive market will have no occasion to take account of the constellation of interests as found in the competitive market. It will not, therefore, be required to withdraw consumable goods from consumption once they have been produced.
Only when the following conditions exist—( 1 ) persistent interests in profit on the part of unchanging persons guided by fixed wants, (2) the unqualified prevalence of private capitalist methods of satisfying wants through exchange in an entirely free market, and (3) a disinterested state which serves only as a guarantor of the law—is Professor Liefmann's proposition correct and then it is, of course, self-evident. For the evaluation is then concerned with the rational means for the optimal solution of a technical problem of distribution. The constructs of pure economics which are useful for analytical purposes cannot, however, be made the sources of practical value-judgments. Economic theory can tell us absolutely nothing more than that for the attainment of the given technical end x, y is the sole appropriate means or is such together with y1 and y2; that in the last analysis these and these differences in consequences and in rationality are associated with y, y1 and y2 respectively; and that their application and thus the attainment of the end x requires that the "subsidiary consequences," z, z1 and z2 be taken into account. These are all merely reformulations of causal propositions, and to the extent that "evaluations" can be imputed to them, they are exclusively of the type which is concerned with the degree of rationality of a prospective action. The evaluations are unambiguous only when the economic end and the social context are definitely given and all that remains is to choose between several economic means, when these differ only with respect to their certainty, rapidity, and quantitative productiveness, and are completely identical in every other value-relevant aspect. It is only when these conditions have been met that we evaluate a given means as "technically most correct," and it is only then that the evaluation is unambiguous. In every other case, i.e., in every case which is not purely a matter of technique, the evaluation ceases to be unambiguous and evaluations enter which are not determinable exclusively by economic analysis.
But the unambiguousness of the final "evaluation" is naturally not attained by the establishment of the unambiguousness of a technical evaluation within the strictly economic sphere. Once we pass from the sphere of technical standards, we are face to face with the endless multiplicity of possible evaluations which can be reduced to manageability only by reducing them to their ultimate axioms. For-to mention only one—behind the particular "action" stands the human being. An increase in the subjective rationality and in the objective-technical "correctness" of an individual's conduct can, beyond a certain limit—or even quite generally from a certain standpoint-threaten goods of the greatest (ethical or religious) importance in his value-system. Scarcely any of us will share the Buddhist ethic in its maximum demands which rejects all purposeful conduct just because it is purposeful and distracts one from salvation. But to "refute" it in the way one refutes an incorrect solution in arithmetic or an erroneous medical diagnosis is absolutely impossible. Even without drawing on such an extreme example, it is easy to see that as far as an evaluation of them is concerned even indisputably "technically correct" economic actions are not validated through this quality alone. This is true without exception for all rationalized actions, including even such apparently technical fields as banking. Those who oppose such types of rationalization are by no means necessarily fools. Rather, whenever one desires to state a value-judgment, it is necessary to take into account the subjective and objective social influence of technical rationalization. The use of the term "progress" is legitimate in our disciplines when it refers to "technical" problems, i.e., to the "means" of attaining an unambiguously given end. It can never elevate itself into the sphere of "ultimate" evaluation.
After all has been said, I still regard the use of the term "progress," even in the limited sphere of its empirically unobjectionable application, as very unfortunate. But the use of words is not subject to censorship; one can, in the end, avoid the possible misunderstandings.
Another group of problems concerning the place of the rational in the empirical disciplines still remains to be discussed.
When the normatively valid is the object of empirical investigation, its normative validity is disregarded. Its "existence" and not its "validity" is what concerns the investigator. When, for example, a statistical analysis is made of the number of "arithmetical errors" in a certain group of calculations-which can indeed have a scientific meaning—the basic propositions of the multiplication table are valid for the investigator in two quite different senses. In the first sense, its normative validity is naturally presupposed in his own calculations. In the second, however, in which the degree of "correctness" of the application of the multiplication table enters as the object of the investigation, the situation is, logically, quite different. Here the application of the multiplication table, by the persons whose calculations are the subject-matter of the statistical analysis, is treated as a maxim of conduct which they have acquired through education. The investigator examines the frequency with which this maxim is applied, just as another statistical investigation might examine the frequency of certain types of perceptual error. The normative "validity," i.e., the "correctness" of the multiplication table is logically irrelevant when its application is being investigated. The statistician, in studying the calculations of the person investigated, must naturally accept the convention of calculating according to the multiplication table. But he would indeed also have to apply methods of calculation which are "incorrect" when viewed normatively, if such methods happened to be regarded as correct in some social group and he had to investigate statistically the frequency of its "correct" application (i.e., "correct" from the standpoint of the group). For the purposes of empirical, sociological or historical analysis, our multiplication table, as the object of such an analysis, is a maxim of practical conduct which is valid according to the conventions of a given culture and which is adhered to more or less closely. It is nothing more than this. Every exposition of the Pythagorean theory of music must accept the calculation which is, to our knowledge, "false," namely, that twelve fifths equal seven octaves. Every history of logic must likewise accept the historical existence of logical statements which, for us are contradictory. Although it is empathically understandable, it is outside the realm of science to respond to such "absurdities" with explosions of rage as a particularly eminent historian of medieval logic once did.
This transformation of normatively valid truths into conventionally valid opinions, to which all intellectual activities, including even logic or mathematics, are subject whenever they become the objects of empirical analysis7 The empirical analysis referred to above does not attempt to determine their no mative correctness. is completely independent of the fact that the normative validity of logical and mathematical propositions is at the same time that a priori basis of all empirical science. Their logical structure is less simple in the case of their function in the empirical investigation of cultural phenomena. This "function" must be carefully differentiated from (a) their function as the object of the investigation and (b) their function as the a priori basis of the investigation. Every science of psychological and social phenomena is a science of human conduct (which includes all thought and attitudes). These sciences seek to "understand" this conduct and by means of this understanding to "explain" it "interpretatively." We cannot deal here with the conmplex phenomenon of "understanding," All that we are interested in here is one particular type: namely "rational" interpretation. We obviously "understand" without further question a person's solution of a certain problem in a manner which we ourselves regard as normat vely correct. The same is true of calculation which is "correct" in the sense that means, which are "correct" from our viewpoint, are applied to attain a desired goal. Our understanding of these events is particularly evident (i.e., plausible) because it is concerned with the realization of the objectively "valid." And nevertheless one must guard one's self against the belief that in this case what is normatively correct has, from the point of view of logic, the same function as it has in its general position as the a priori of all scientific investigation. Rat her its function as a means of "understanding" is exactly the same as it is in the case of purely psychological "empathy" with logically irrational feeling and affect-complexes, where it is a matter of obtaining an "understanding" knowledge of them. The means employed by the method of "understanding explanation" are not normative correctness, but rather, on the one hand, the conventional habits of the investigator and teacher in thinking in a particular way, and on the other, as the situation requires, his capacity to "feel himself" empathically into a mode of thought which deviates from his own and which is normatively "false" according to his own habits of thought The fact that "error" is, in principle, just as accessible to the understanding as "correct" thinking proves that we are concerned here with the normatively "correct" type of validity, not as such but only as an especially easily understandable conventional type. This leads now to a final statement about the role of "normative correctness" in social science.
In order to be able to "understand" an "incorrect" calculation or an "incorrect" logical assertion and to analyze its consequences, one must not only test it in using methods of correct calculation or logical thought but must indeed indicate by reference to the "correct" calculation or "correct" logic, those points at which the calculation or the logical assertion in question deviates from the one which the analyst regards as normatively "correct." This is not merely necessary for pedagogical purposes, which Windelband, for example, emphasized in the Introduction to his History of Philosophy ("warning signs" against "wrong roads"), and which is in itself only a desirable by-product of historical study. Nor is it necessitated by the fact that every historical inquiry, among the objects of which are included all sorts of logical, mathematical, or other scientific knowledge, rests only on the foundation of "truth-value" which we accept and which is the only possible ultimate value criterion which determines its selection and progress. Even if this were actually the case, it would still be necessary to consider Windelband's often-made point: i.e., that progress in the sense of an increase in correct propositions, instead of taking the direct path, has—speaking in terms of economics—frequently followed the "most productive round-about path" in passing through "errors," i.e., problem-confusions. This procedure is called for because and only to the extent of the importance of those aspects in which the knowledge investigated deviate from those which the investigator himself regards as "correct." By importance we mean that the specifically "characteristic" aspects in question are from the investigator's point of view either directly value-relevant or are causally connected with other value-relevant phenomena. This will, ordinarily, be the case, to the degree that the truth-value of ideas is the guiding value in the writing of intellectual history, e.g., in a history of a particular branch of knowledge like philosophy or economic theory.
But it is by no means necessarily restricted to such cases. A some-what similar situation arises whenever one investigates a subjectively rational action, in which errors in thinking or calculation can constitute causal factors of the course of the action. In order, for example, to understand how a war is conducted, it is necessary to imagine an ideal commander-in-chief for each side—even though not explicitly or in detailed form. Each of these commanders must know the total fighting resources of each side and all the possibilities arising there-from of attaining the concretely unambiguous goal, namely, the destruction of the enemy's military power. On the basis of this knowledge, they must act entirely without error and in a logically "perfect" way. For only then can the consequences of the fact that the real commanders neither had the knowledge nor were they free from error and that they were not purely rational thinking machines, be unambiguously established. The rational construction is useful here, as a means of correct causal imputation. The "ideal" constructions of rigorous and errorless rational conduct which we find in pure economic theory have exactly the same significance.
For purposes of the causal imputation of empirical events, we need the rational, empirical-technical and logical constructions, which help us to answer the question as to what a behavior pattern or thought pattern (e.g., a philosophical system) would be like if it possessed completely rational, empirical and logical "correctness" and "consistency." From the logical viewpoint, the construction of such a rationally "correct" "utopia" or "ideal" is, however, only one of the various possible forms of the "ideal-type"—as I have called such logical constructs. For not only are there cases in which an incorrect inference or a self-defeating action would be more serviceable as ideal-types, but there are whole spheres of action (the sphere of the "irrational") where the simplicity offered by isolating abstraction is more convenient than an ideal-type of optimal logical rationality. It is true that, in practice, the investigator frequently uses normatively "correctly" constructed "ideal-types." From the logical point of view, however, the normative "correctness" of these types is not essential. For the purpose of characterizing a specific type of attitude, the investigator may construct either an ideal-type which is identical with his own personal ethical norms, and in this sense objectively "correct," or one which ethically is thoroughly in conflict with his own normative attitudes; and he may then compare the behavior of the people being investigated with it. Or else he may construct an ideal-typical attitude of which he has neither positive nor negative evaluations. Normative "correctness" has no monopoly for such purposes. Whatever the content of the ideal-type, be it an ethical, a legal, an æsthetic, or a religious norm, or a technical, an economic, or a cultural maxim or any other type of valuation in the most rational form possible, it has only one function in an empirical investigation. Its function is the comparison with empirical reality in order to establish its divergences or similarities, to describe them with the most unambiguously intelligible concepts, and to understand and explain them causally. Rational juridicial concepts supply this need for the empirical history of law, and the theory of the rational calculation of costs and revenue supplies the same service for the analysis 0f the actual behavior of individual economic units in a profit-economy. Both of these disciplines, in addition to this heuristic function, have as "practical arts" distinctly normative-practical aims. In this respect, these disciplines are no more empirical in the sense used here than are, for instance, mathematics, logic, normative ethics, and æsthetics, from which they differ in other respects as much as the latter differ among themselves.
Economic theory is an axiomatic discipline in a way which is logically very different from that of the systematic science of law. Its relationship to economic reality is very different from the relationship of jurisprudence to the phenomena treated by the history and sociology of law. The concepts of jurisprudence may and should be used as ideal-types in empirical legal studies. Pure economic theory, in its analysis of past and present society, utilizes ideal-tye concepts exclusively. Economic theory makes certain assumptions which scarcely ever correspond completely with reality but which approximate it in various degrees and asks: how would men act under these assumed conditions, if their actions were entirely rational? It assumes the dorr inance of pure economic interests and precludes the operation of political or other non-economic considerations.
Its fate, however, has been typical of "problem-confusions." Pure ecoiomics is a theory which is "apolitical," which asserts "no moral evaluations," and which is "individualistic" in its orientation in the senses specified above. It is and will always be indispensable for analytical purposes. The extreme free-traders, however, conceived of iT as an adequate picture of "natural" reality, i.e., reality not distorted by human stupidity, and they proceeded to set it up as a moral imperative—as a valid normative ideal—whereas it is only a convenent ideal type to be used in empirical analysis. When in consequence of changes in economic and social policy, the high estimation of he state was reflected in the evaluative sphere, pure economic theory was rejected not only as an ideal—in which role it could never claim validity—but as a methodological device for the investigation of empirical facts. "Philosophical" considerations of the most varied sor were to supplant rational procedure. The identification of the "psychologically" existent with the ethically valid obstructed the precise distinction of value-judgments from assertions of fact.
The extraordinary accomplishments of the representatives of this scientific tendency in the fields of history, sociology, and social policy are generally acknowledged. But the unbiased observer also perceives that theoretical and rigorously scientific analysis in economics has been in a state of decay for decades as a natural consequence of that confusion of problems. The first of the two main theses which the opponents of pure economics set forth is that its rational constructions are "pure fictions" which tell us nothing about reality. If rightly interpreted, this contention is correct. Theoretical constructions never do more than assist in the attainment of a knowledge of reality which they alone cannot provide, and which, as a result of the operation of other factors and complexes of motives which are not contained in their assumptions, even in the most extreme cases, only approximate to the hypothesized course of events. This, of course, does not diminish the utility and necessity of pure theory. The second thesis of the opponents of economic theory is that there cannot be a non-evaluative theory of economic policy as a science. This is fundamentally false; non-evaluativeness, in the sense presented above, is on the contrary presupposed by every purely scientific analysis of politics, particularly of social and economic policy. It would be superfluous to repeat that it is obviously possible and scientifically useful and necessary to establish propositions of the following type: in order to attain the end x (in economic policy), y is the only means, or under conditions b1, b2, and b3, y1, y2, and y3 are the only or the most effective means. It should be emphatically recalled that the possibility of the exact dfinition of the end sought for is a prerequisite to the formulation of the problem. Hence it is simply a question of inverting causal propositions; in other words, it is a purely "technical" problem. It is indeed on this account that science is not compelled to formulate these technical teleological propositions in any form other than that of simple causal propositions, e.g., x is produced by y, or x, under conditions b1, b2, and b2 is produced by y1, y2, and y3. For these say exactly the same thing, and the "man of action" can derive his "prescriptions" from them quite easily. In addition to the formulation of pure ideal-typical formulæ and the establishment of such causal economic propositions—for such are without exception involved when x is sufficiently unambiguous—, scientific economics has other problems. These problems include the causal influence of economic events on the whole range of social phenomena (by means of the hypotheses offered by the economic interpretation of history). Likewise included among the problems of economics is the analysis of the various ways in which non-economic social events influence economic events (economic sociology and economic history). Political actions and structures, especially the state and the state-guaranteed legal system are of primary importance among these non-economic social events. But obviously, political events are not the only ones—all those structures which influence economic actions to the extent that they become relevant to scientific interest must also be included. The phrase "theory of economic policy" is naturally not very suitable for the totality of these problems. The fact that it is nevertheless used for this purpose is due to the character of the universities as training schools for state officials and to the great power of the state to influence the economic system in very far-reaching ways. The inversion of "cause and effect" propositions into "means-ends" propositions is possible whenever the effect in question can be stated precisely. Naturally, this does not at all affect the logical relationship between value-judgments and judgments of fact. In conclusion, we should like to make one more comment on this point.
The developments of the past few decades, and especially the unprecedented events to which we are now witness, have heightened the prestige of the state tremendously. Of all the various associations, it alone is accorded "legitimate" power over life, death, and liberty. Its agencies use these powers against external enemies in wartime, and against internal resistance in both war and peace. In peacetime, it is the greatest entrepreneur in economic life and the most powerful collector of tributes from the citizenry; and in time of war, it disposes of unlimited power over all available economic goods. Its modern rationalized form of organization has made achievements possible in many spheres which could not have been approximated by any other sort of social organization. It is almost inevitable that people should conclude that it represents the "ultimate" value—especially in the political sphere—and that all social actions should be evaluated in terms of their relations to its interests. This is an inadmissible deduction of a value-judgment from a statement of fact, even if we disregard, for the time being, the ambiguity of the conclusions drawn from that value-judgment. The ambiguity would of course become immediately apparent once we begin to discuss the means (of maintaining or "advancing" the state). In the face of the great prestige of the state, it is worthwhile pointing out that there are certain things which the state cannot do. This is the case even in the sphere of military activity, which might be regarded as its most proper domain. The observation of many phenomena which the present war has brought about in the armies of nationally heterogeneous states leads us to conclude that the voluntary devotion of the individual to the tasks which his state calls for but which it cannot compel, is not irrelevant in the determination of military success. And in the economic sphere, it should be pointed out that the transformation of wartime forms and measures into permanent features of the peacetime economy can have rapid results which will spoil the ideal of an expansive state for those who hold it. Nonetheless, we will not concern ourselves further with this point. In the sphere of value-judgments, however, it is possible to defend quite meaningfully the view that the power of the state should be increased in order to strengthen its power to eliminate obstacles, while maintaining that the state itself has no intrinsic value, that it is a purely technical instrument for the realization of other values from which alone it derives its value, and that it can retain this value only as long as it does not seek to transcend this merely auxiliary status.
We will not expound or defend either this or any other possible evaluative standpoint here. We shall only state that if the professional thinker has an immediate obligation at all, it is to keep a cool head in the face of the ideals prevailing at the time, even those which are associated with the throne, and if necessary, "to swim against the stream." The "German ideas of 1914" were produced by dilettantes. The "socialism of the future" is a phrase for the rationalization of economic life by combining further bureaucratization and interest-group adminstration. Today fanatical office-holding patriots are invoking the spirit not only of German philosophy, but of religion as well, to justify these purely technical measures instead of soberly discussing their feasibility, which is quite prosaically conditioned by financial factors. This kind of activity is nothing but a highly objectionable form of poor taste manifested by dilettantish litterateurs who take themselves over-seriously. But what the real "German ideas of 1918," on the formation of which the returning soldiers will have to be heard, can or should be like, no one today can say in advance. This will depend on the future.