I The Ethical Problem in the Present Time

I

THE ETHICAL PROBLEM IN THE PRESENT TIME

In former times, nothing seemed more plausible and more certain than morality. It was a tower of strength, where men sought refuge in the midst of all the doubts and conflicts of life. This was especially the case during the Age of Enlightenment. Men were beginning to believe less absolutely in the religion handed down to them, but they clung all the more to morality. Metaphysical speculation and theoretical endeavours to reveal the innermost essence of things encountered growing opposition, yet morality was welcomed as something superior to all complications, and valuable to all. It was held to be the pivot of Archimedes, which gives stability to the whole of life.

In our days morality has ceased to be a matter of such unquestionable certainty, and has been drawn into the wave of disintegration which is passing over our minds. Formerly the scientific definition and accurate conception of morality were matters of contention; but it is now the fundamental idea of morality that is questioned. Many of our contemporaries are of opinion that the revelations of modern science and the claims of modern life have destroyed the foundations of morality and made it untenable in the old sense. Morality in the old sense demands dissociation of our aspirations from our own personal interest, and devotion to something that is esteemed higher; whenever an action that appears good is seen to proceed from selfish motives, it can no longer claim any moral value. There is a widespread tendency in modern life, to question the possibility of such detachment from the Ego, and to acknowledge the coercion exercised over man by his instinct of self-preservation. Emancipation from this restraint is not even considered desirable, for constant strife and competition seem necessary to life and progress, and a softening of this strife would inevitably reduce the energy of life.

Morality further demands independence and spontaneity of action. An action performed under the pressure of external coercion or mechanical habit, loses immediately its moral character. Now such independence and spontaneity are not possible apart from some kind of free choice, yet this would contradict the law of causality, which in the present age is generally considered to rule the whole of reality. In man's soul, the supremacy of this law of causality is strengthened by our growing insight into the power of heredity and of social environment. Yet morality in the old sense stands and falls with man's power of spontaneous and independent decision.

It is difficult also for morality to retain in modern life the position and estimation it formerly enjoyed. It used to be invested with unique significance, and placed high above all other manifestations of the inner life. This conviction found its strongest expression at times of great historical import. We all remember the words of Jesus: "What shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?" The same conviction is expressed in philosophical language by the greatest antique philosopher and the greatest modern philosopher: Plato and Kant. Plato says: "All the gold on the earth and under the earth is less precious than virtue." Kant says: "If righteousness should perish, it would not be worth while for men to inhabit the earth."

But this conviction of the absolute supremacy of the moral task requires an inner gradation of life, for which modern conditions offer no scope. For modern life subordinates all aspiration and endeavour to the aim of enhancing the process of life. Every action is valued as a means to this end; and morality could only hold its own as an instrument of human welfare. But such degradation of morality would mean annihilation of morality. The present time is not entirely dominated by such a movement against morality, only a few currents of thought are so absolute in their negation of ethical claims. But these currents could never have attained the strength and expansion they undoubtedly exhibit, if in our day morality were more securely established and more distinctly formulated. It is the want of union in moral ideals (never before so strongly marked) which gives added power to the enemies of morality.

There are to-day no less than four kinds of morality, often crossing and opposing each other, which claim men's allegiance. These are:

Religious Morality,

The Morality of Reason or of immanent idealism,

The Morality of Work,

Social Morality.

Religious Morality and the Morality of Reason have come down to us from past ages, and grow out of an inner world of thought. The Morality of Work and Social Morality are specific results of the present time, growing out of work in a visible world of realities. The two older forms of morality form an antithesis to the two newer forms, as will hereafter be seen.

The most effectual kind of morality is still the religious one—for us, the morality associated with Christianity, the religion of ethical redemption. Christianity, which is founded on a holy will superior to the world, exalts moral action far above arbitrary human choice and human aim. It completely severs moral action from all natural inclination, dissociates it from all external performance, and gives it a purely spiritual character. It supplies a most powerful impulse to action, by connecting man's destiny with his attitude to his moral obligations. The awakening and ennobling power inherent in Christianity was not confined to individuals, but was embodied in a large section of the human race, creating a spiritual atmosphere which still acts powerfully on individual souls, even if they themselves are not conscious of it. Religious morality still continues to influence us in this way. All other kinds of morality could not be as effectual as they are, were they not constantly supplemented and deepened by religious morality.

And yet we cannot ignore the fact that in our day the supremacy of religious morality is often contested. The world of religion no longer encompasses man as a matter of course, and this also weakens its moral influence. At the same time many objections are raised against the nature and demands of religious morality. Owing to the closer connection between man's endeavour and his environment and to the accentuation of the struggle for existence, this kind of morality appears too mild, too soft, too subjective, and there is often a desire for a sterner and more virile kind. Religious ethics do not seem to have sufficient latitude to transform the whole of life. We can therefore understand the widespread desire for something which can sufficiently supplement religious ethics.

At all periods of higher civilisation, religious morality has been supplemented and completed by the morality of reason, which was developed above all by the philosophers, from the Stoics down to Kant and Fichte. Here morality does not proceed from a superior and divine will, but from man's own reasonable nature. This nature seems to demand recognition of a universal law, and voluntary submission to it; only then does man bring his own being to perfection. The morality arising herefrom is strong and manly; it incites man to a proud independence of spirit, and exalts him far above everyday life. To this morality of reason we owe the scientific development of the moral world of thought, and the distinct formulation of conceptions like Duty and Conscience. By means of such conceptions, the morality of reason also influences our own time, without however taking the lead, as it did during the Age of Enlightenment. The idea of reason as the sure foundation of our spiritual life is no longer universally accepted, and has little influence on the man of to-day. He is too fully conscious of his subordination to the world of sense, of which he is a member, to be able to enfranchise himself completely from it, and to assert his own superior power. The rationalistic conception of life reckons with strong, self-centred personalities, who, as we know, do not abound in our time.

Morality could not be in close touch with the movements and problems of the present day, if—either as religious or as rational morality—it were inseparable from belief in an invisible world. But the latest development of life supplies morality with valuable motives derived from the visible world, and even creates new specific forms of morality. On the one hand, the impulse comes from modern work; on the other hand, from modern society. In both cases, we have forces that were always at work, but that gain considerable significance from the conditions of modern life.

All really earnest work is directed towards some object which it seeks to penetrate; it impels us to value the object for its own sake, and to treat it according to its own requirements. Man is thus exalted above his own personal opinion and inclination. Only in modern times has work reached its full development as a factor of education and of moral culture. For work has now become more and more independent of separate individuals; it is becoming a concern common to all mankind, and it forms its own great complexes. Such a complex is modern science. It is no longer dependent on individuals, but has formed a fabric of its own. In accordance with the development it has attained, science dictates to individuals the channels and methods of their work, presents problems to be solved, and indicates the means of their solution. The individual works in vain, if he detaches himself from the movement of the whole. His enrolment in the movement of the whole imparts to life a distinctly ethical character. For the individual must subordinate himself completely to the demands of the whole; he must repress everything bearing upon his own will and desire; he must feel that his own efforts are part of the great sum of human endeavour, the promotion of which must be his highest satisfaction. Single workers come and go, but through the work of generations the proud edifice of science is ever growing. As Bacon says: "Multi pertransibunt et augebitur scientia." (Many will pass by, and science will grow.)

What applies to science is equally true of the other provinces of life. In modern times, mighty complexes are everywhere springing up, which encompass individuals with their superior power. We see this above all in technical and industrial work, but also in state organisation, in education with its schools and so forth. All these finally unite in the comprehensive conception of civilisation and culture,—in the idea of man's supremacy over the world by means of his work.

It is evident that a strong moral force is here engendered. Without this ethical factor, without a constant enrolment and subordination, modern civilisation could never have reached its present development. Yet we cannot deny that this morality of work has inner limitations. The technical side of work does indeed repress and even destroy all individual will; but it is an open question in what temper the work is done, whether from love to the work or from petty and selfish motives. It is quite possible for a petty and narrow frame of mind to be accompanied by the greatest technical skill. Further work spurs on towards achievement, and the worker is judged by what he achieves. What becomes of his inner life, of his whole personality, is a matter of indifference. Here we are only parts of a structure, and are nothing at all in ourselves. This must become so more and more in proportion as work is specialised, and vitalises an ever smaller part of the individual's powers. Moreover the union of men which in this direction takes place, is only confined to their common work. However closely connected they may be through their work, their individual principles and convictions can be very different, if not absolutely hostile. It is, in our day, above all, the social problem, which divides men into hostile factions. In one special direction—that of work—there is an ethical development of life; but we cannot base on it an inner entity of right and humanity. The morality thus developed is cold and impersonal; it lacks inner warmth, and cannot appeal to the whole personality.

In this respect, social morality is infinitely superior to the morality of work. For social morality proceeds from the immediate relation of man to man. Here also, something old and familiar acquires a new form and stronger influence. It was an old conviction that man could only develop in connection with his fellow-men, towards whom his activity was mainly directed. But what has re-cast the idea of society in a new mould, is the modern doctrine that men are not united by their common relation to an invisible world—ruled either by a Divine Being or by an all-pervading Reason—but by their actual living together in the realm of experience. This modern doctrine points out that individuals not only meet during the course of their life, but that they are interdependent from the very beginning,—that union and life with others is a fundamental necessity for every human being. In developing this idea, modern sociology shows, by means of innumerable statistics, how the nature and welfare of the individual depends upon the condition of the whole. It tries to prove that all progress—even for the individual—is inseparable from the amelioration of the community at large; such amelioration therefore becomes the main object of endeavour. Modern sociology at the same time advocates the idea of a common responsibility, a solidarity of all human life and action. Strong motives are thus offered to the individual to direct his activity, beyond his own personal interest, towards the welfare of all, and to find in work for the welfare of others—in "altruistic" action—the highest value of life.

The "social" ethics thus developed are further enhanced by the growing conviction that the traditional form of life in the community is capable—nay needful—of fundamental changes. Formerly the structure of society was above all aristocratic in character. The conduct of life was in the hands of a small minority. They alone acquired full development of all their powers and full possession of earthly goods, which the rest could only enjoy in part and through the agency of the favoured few. This division of mankind appeared to be too firmly established by the divine will or by a mysterious destiny for human endeavour to try and alter it. The modern man, in the consciousness of his power, by no means considers these things incapable of change. For him, it is a sublime task to suppress such distinctions, and to let "all that bears human features" (Fichte) participate in the work and enjoyment of life.

We can here discuss neither the possibility of solving this problem in all its bearings, nor the complications resulting therefrom. But we cannot deny the strong ethical stimulus of such a movement. It has resulted in an eager desire to strengthen the weak, to raise aspiring spirits, to oppose injustice, to eradicate suffering as far as possible, and to increase the enjoyment of life. In all this, there is much warmth and vigour, a strong feeling of responsibility, and recognition of the rights of others. No other ethical force so strongly influences the men of to-day, as the social idea; we see this in legislation, in education, in every relation of man to man. This idea counteracts egoism, and produces such a wealth of humane action, as was hardly ever witnessed at any period of the world's history.

But even here, in spite of so much that is admirable, inner limitations are evident. Life and morality are concentrated on activity for others. But this activity is more for man's external welfare than for that of his soul,—more for the conditions of life than for life itself. Inner problems find too often only a secondary consideration and the personality as a whole is apt to be neglected. This morality of social activity believes in the existence of goodwill and its growth by means of external activity, and takes human virtue for granted. But it has nothing to offer that could allay the inner conflicts, or could overcome the dark, wild, and passionate element in man's soul. Nor does this kind of morality sufficiently realise what complications and passions are inseparable from life in the community: the strife for power and supremacy, the vanity and unreality which arise and rapidly spread among its members. Social morality shows a very optimistic conception of man, which is often contradicted by experience. However great therefore the merits of social morality may be in one special direction, it takes up the problem too superficially, and offers no firm foundation for morality, which it presupposes rather than creates.

Morality to-day thus appears to be accompanied by much confusion and many complications. There is no lack of separate developments, but these cross and oppose each other. What one kind of morality takes to be its chief source of strength, appears to another to be mere weakness. The inner and spiritual character of the older forms is condemned by the younger forms as a subjective illusion, while the unremitting activity of the latter seem to their opponents to be an exclusive concentration on external work. Life as a whole has become uncertain to us in its deepest aspects; and we are no longer satisfied with the moral impulses coming from the life around us. We hesitate between absolutely different kinds of morality, which can only fully develop their individual characteristics by injuring one another; this must inevitably weaken the influence of morality on the whole of life. At the same time, movements hostile to morality encounter less opposition, and gain ground in spite of their inherent superficiality. Morality, once an undoubted possession of mankind, has thus come to be a difficult problem; instead of ruling over man from the height of its superiority, it seems now to depend on his opinion and choice.

The condition of things resulting herefrom is becoming more and more unendurable. If morality is weakened, then life is robbed of a strong impulse, an ennobling power, and a dominant aim; it is in danger of inner insignificance and disintegration. The salt of life is then lacking, which alone can keep it fresh and healthy, and with all its outer brilliancy, it is threatened with inner decay. If we are to resist this danger with all our might, then science must help to overcome the uncertainty and want of concentration so characteristic of our time, and to gain full recognition of morality as a whole. To do this, it is above all necessary to find some point of view whence we can successfully combat this disintegration.

We shall therefore have to consider first of all how such a point of view may be attained.

II The Ethical Principle

II

THE ETHICAL PRINCIPLE

The intricate situation of to-day necessarily incites us to reflection. We must consider our life as a whole; we must ask ourselves whether human existence comprises various kinds and gradations of life, and whether a task thus arises which embraces all man's endeavour. There can be no doubt that human life is not confined to one single plane,—that all variety of endeavour does not easily unite to form a definite entity, but that heterogeneous elements meet and mingle in man.

Man at first appears to be part of nature, of the world of sense, subject to its laws and impulses. Dim and unreasonable instincts pervade man's soul with compelling force. Our conceptions grow out of sense impressions, and form at first the purely mechanical concatenation which we term "association," while all our efforts are directed towards individual self-preservation. In all this, man is entirely within the limitations of nature. Yet though this natural life at first predominates, it does not represent the whole of our life. We become aware of new features, which we characterise as "spiritual." We see how man grows independent of his environment, and strives to subdue it from without and within. By thought he frees himself from the shackles of his environment, and asserts himself against the whole world; at the same time he is driven back to the world, and feels impelled to fathom it and to make it his own by personal experience. His actions do not always remain a mere part of nature's concatenations. He can detach himself from all cohesion. In unbridled egoism he can subordinate every event and action to his own well-being; or he can absorb into himself all that at first existed beside him and apart from him, and that often appeared hostile, and can thus manifest boundless love and sympathy. His natural instinct of self-preservation will then appear too small and insignificant; he can even come to feel its narrow restrictions as intolerable.

If we pass from the individual to the whole of mankind, we see in civilisation and culture a new form of life opposed to mere nature. For man is no longer swayed and ruled by what assails him from without, but he confronts it with new aims and ideals. He judges and weighs; he approves and rejects; he forms new complexes, like those of state organisation and of science. In all this, man is the representative of a new and specific kind of life; he manifests an independence unknown to nature.

This new life differs from nature and from what may be attained on the basis of nature, not only in single characteristics, but in all its manifestations and even in its fundamental essence. Nature forms a tissue of separate elements, which come into reciprocal action but lack all inner cohesion. Great complexes are thus formed, but no combination amounts to real cohesion: there is no inner whole, and no life proceeding from such an inner entity.

All life grows out of contact with the environment; therefore intellectual participation is indissolubly bound to the world of sense. In this life of nature, the intellect can create no conceptions independent of sense impressions, and action cannot free itself from the power of natural impulse. All inner values can here be nothing more than an accessory and reminiscence of what reaches us from without.

We see something essentially different, wherever spiritual life develops. Here life is not decomposed into a multitude of separate particles, but inner cohesions are formed, which embrace and dominate all achievement of individual beings. This is especially the case when human thought aspires towards Truth. Every individual has his own sum of conceptions and his own special associations; but he does not possess a truth of his own. All search for truth is based on the conviction that something must be acquired which is common to all men, and which embraces and governs them all. Aspiration thus extends far beyond separate individuals. We have here not a disconnected mass of assertion and dogma; all is gathered into a well ordered cohesion, and all separate efforts result in progression to the whole. Every kind of intellectual endeavour presents a similar situation. Thus the Good and the Beautiful are not values confined to single individuals; every man striving after them, only contributes towards the sum of common endeavour, and what he wins for himself is at the same time a gain for all. Aspiration is not confined to a limited number of separate results, but the manifestation of a great whole is sought for: a comprehensive realm of the good and the beautiful.

Once the mind is thus concentrated on the whole, greater spiritual independence inevitably ensues. For it is necessary to rise above the sense impression and constantly to assert the autonomy of the soul, if aspiration from the whole and to the whole is to be successfully developed. From being a mere accessory, the soul now becomes in all respects a source of independent life. In science ideas gain a significance of their own, apart from the impressions of sense; they develop their own laws, and react with transforming power on what they have absorbed, as we see in the case of mathematics. Our own mind supplies the forms in which we shape our world. Feeling also frees itself from sense impressions. Sense enjoyment no longer suffices for man's happiness. His relation to other human beings does not remain confined to external contact; pity and love can embrace the whole of mankind, as is proved by the great religions. We can no longer doubt man's capacity of aspiring to values far beyond external possessions; and his inner life, the development of his own individual personality may become a matter of paramount importance to him.

But this inner life, with all its distinct manifestations, can cope successfully with the outer world and its forcible inroads, only by developing an inner realm which it extends to an independent world of its own. This does in reality take place. What was at first beside us and apart from us, can be transferred to the soul without merging into it. The antithesis between internal and external values, which at first seemed to disintegrate life, can be overcome, if spiritual endeavour absorbs the object and brings it into reciprocal action with spiritual forces. Where spiritual development is at its highest, life does not fluctuate between the subjective and objective, but unites both in itself, brings them into reciprocal action, and develops one by means of the other. Such a triumph over antitheses is to be seen most clearly in the province of art. Art is not merely capable of copying external objects as exactly as possible, or of rendering with the greatest possible truth the feeling of the individual: really great art must embrace both factors and blend them to a perfect unity. This is how a real work of art is created, which then gives to life an inner expansion and a new reality.

As in art, so also in the other provinces human life. In the mutual relation of man to man, the spiritual phase by no means does away with all distinctions, but it exalts us above them, and embraces them all from a higher point of view. Individuals are not to be merged in a hazy and colourless whole, but in rising towards a higher life an inner communion becomes possible, within which even what is alien becomes to a certain extent our own. This enables men to understand each other, to put themselves in the place of one another, to find themselves in others. Man acquires in such communion a vaster self, which is not dependent on one tiny atom, but has a whole world of its own.

If scientific research is not to degenerate into barren scepticism, it must also overcome the antithesis of the subjective and the objective. To do this, it assimilates external objects by means of thought, and strives to embrace at the same time both the inner man and the outer world, developing one by means of the other.

We observe everywhere this tendency to subject everything to the operation of spiritual forces—to create and develop an inner world. Here all problems are confined to life itself, which is no longer concerned with extraneous matters, but with itself alone. In this inner world, life develops in its own way; it finds its aims and ideals in itself, in its own perfection, in its complete triumph over the antitheses it embraces.

How are we to interpret this new life and its origin? It cannot have proceeded from that nature inferior to man, from which it differs even in its most elementary fundamental forms. It cannot be a creation of man alone, in whom—as experience proves—it is far too weak, too much alloyed with lower and sensual elements, for a new gradation of life to originate in him. Nothing therefore remains but to recognise in this inward tendency a movement of the universe—a movement in which man is privileged to participate, but which he could never engender from out of his own nature. The recognition of such a movement completely changes the aspect of reality. The universe now seems to embrace two planes, and to be rising—at least as far as humanity is concerned—from one plane to the other. A new light is cast on reality, which ceases to be a collection of separate and non-cohesive elements, and becomes capable of comprehensive operation and of self-concentration. We realise that what at first appeared to be the whole of reality was only its outer aspect, which is supplemented by the new depth revealed to us. It is only the development of these depths that gives life its real significance; values come into existence which lie beyond the natural instinct of self-preservation—such values as the good, the true, and the beautiful.

Let us now see how this order of things strikes and influences man. The new phase of life at first appears—in man—only in a few individual operations, while his life and aspiration are still mainly determined by nature and natural self-preservation. A certain spirituality does indeed appear wherever there is human life, yet only as something subordinate, as an accessory to another kind of life, but without the autonomy necessary to a comprehensive and self-centred whole, which could develop its own specific character. If man is to participate in the movement of the universe and bring the spiritual into full operation in himself, this autonomy of the spiritual life is of paramount importance. It can only develop where a movement reaches man from the universe, embraces him, and determines his further course. But, at the same time, man must recognise and seize this impulse, thus taking possession of this new life. We have seen that what used to be considered of secondary importance, is now of paramount value. This requires a reversion of the original order of things, a readjustment of the values of life. We have not to realise any new achievement within a given sphere of activity, or to further develop existing conditions; we have to acquire an essentially new life.

The requirements thus formulated lead to a system of ethics. Its fundamental doctrine is man's power to rise by free action to the higher plane of cosmic life, and to develop it with all the strength of his soul. We have shown that the new object of our endeavour is not something unfamiliar that suddenly invades our consciousness. For it is the working within us of some spiritual force, that exalts us above the animal world to the status of human beings. But the spiritual life undergoes an essential change, as soon as it acquires autonomy within us. As long as it was held to be of secondary importance, it was chiefly appreciated as a means towards human ends: spiritual forces were to give us more power over external realities, and fuller enjoyment of life, but we did not penetrate into the life of the spirit and there find a new world. If we do this in accordance with the transformation of life we have been considering, great results will soon appear. In science and art, as well as in law and morality, our efforts will be accompanied by such strength, devotion, and gladness as we never before experienced. We shall operate with the laws and powers inherent in the things themselves; we shall become indifferent to outer profit and success, and shall find full satisfaction in the manifestation of genuine spiritual life, in spite of the trials and difficulties it may offer. If the spiritual life can thus grow towards perfection, undisturbed by human aims, it will manifest all its values in rich and pure abundance; it will reveal a new world, and will open up a new depth of reality. We thus take possession of a world which exalts us far above all petty human considerations, yet which is not alien and unfamiliar to us, but is essentially our own life and being.

With autonomy, the spiritual life also gains more unity. As at first manifested in human life, it is divided into a variety of separate branches—such as art, science, law, technical knowledge—which lack all inner cohesion and mutual understanding. If the autonomy of the spiritual life reveals a new phase of reality, it must also form a comprehensive whole, of which all the separate provinces are but the various manifestations. They themselves now appear in a new light, and every province must determine its position and significance in the whole, and must submit to the operation of the forces proceeding from the whole. This will give more depth and more soul to the activity in each separate province, while all will seek to come into closer touch and to supplement one another.

All this implies a great task for man. He is an imperfect and unfinished being, full of contradictions. He has to seek and achieve genuine life; he must penetrate from the sphere of effects to that of their causes; he must recognise the great cosmic movement as a personal concern of his own, and must thus give meaning and value to his life and aspiration.

We have here a matter of vast import. Not only must the new world be recognised and taken possession of by the individual, but a new order of things, valid for all humanity, must be created and triumphantly asserted against an entirely different order of things. Instead of the mere juxtaposition which the world of sense at first presents to us, we must establish inner cohesion in society and history. The efforts of all humanity must supplement the visible world, to which we remain bound, by an invisible one, and must make of this invisible world the chief seat of human life. While time is forever flowing onward, permanent truths and values of life must be found, which can sustain from within all aspiration and endeavour. We human beings must realise a higher life within given natural conditions; and to do this, we have first to create and establish a new order of things within our own sphere of existence. This transforms our life into a never ending task, but also imparts to it an incomparable greatness. While thus striving forward, the individual must first of all submerge himself in the new world as a whole, until he finds there his true life, his real and higher self. A complete negation of the little Ego and emancipation from it are requisite. This does not mean that the individual is to disappear and be absorbed by the infinite. The infinite becomes a living present at this special point, and the individual must take possession of it and assert it. He must also promote the forward movement of life, and must enrich reality by the culture of a spiritual individuality, very different from the one nature has given him. This spiritual individuality can only develop on the basis of the spiritual life, from which it takes its aims and standards; and it must always be in harmony with the movement of the whole.

It is evident that all these factors have laid the foundations for a system of ethics. As we have seen, life as a whole challenges man to a great change, to a decision, an action, but also to unremitting work for the establishment of a new order of things. That which gives us human beings our pre-eminence and constitutes our innermost essence is not to be gained without our own efforts, and pervades our life as a continuous task. We may call the morality arising thence the Ethics of the Spiritual Life, for the centre of life and its ruling motive lie in man's relation to a superior spiritual life, which is at the root of his own being and yet has to be acquired by his own action and effort. Morality represents the principles underlying this great change. Morality grasps the question as a whole. Morality elucidates the fact that all the variety of work is dominated by strife for a spiritual self, a strife which can only be successful if the original situation is reversed.

We must now try to determine more closely what form these ethics are to take, and whether they are able to overcome the objections which confront every kind of morality.

III A Defence of the Ethical Principle

III

A DEFENCE OF THE ETHICAL PRINCIPLE

Before we proceed further in the direction indicated, we must see whether our own convictions are capable of overcoming the opposition and impediments to morality, presented by widespread currents of contemporary thought. Were we unable to overcome them, then all further advance would be stamped by inner uncertainty.

The first objection was, that all human action must tend to the preservation and advancement of the performer, so that action apart from self-interest, as required by morality, is impossible. We are told that man cannot be inspired and moved to action by any aim outside his own personality, and that even where this appears to be the case, closer examination reveals some hidden motive of self-interest. This was the doctrine of Spinoza and is now a widespread conviction. There is undoubtedly some truth in the fundamental idea, but it is by no means certain that this truth is rightly applied. It is true that all endeavour must start from the life and being of a man and reflect back on him. Something absolutely alien would necessarily leave us cold and indifferent; by his action man must in some way grow and gain and assert his own inner self.

But we must ask ourselves whether the natural Ego, to which the opponent of morality binds all human action, represents the whole of man's life, and whether all endeavour is obliged to serve the interests of natural self-preservation. If a man recognises any kind of spiritual activity in its specific working, he will reject such limitation; and the more he sees in the spiritual life a new and independent phase of reality, the more decisively will he declare that a real self is not contained in the natural Ego, but must first be acquired by means of the spiritual life. In spite of all the subjective force and passion displayed in the self-preservation of the natural Ego, this Ego and its life are without inner significance: it plans and acts, without being absorbed and illuminated by an inner force; it remains alien and dense.

On the spiritual plane, on the other hand, man acquires an individuality, and is able to embrace a whole of reality, into the life of which he submerges himself; and in developing this life, he is able to find full satisfaction and joy. The spiritual life does indeed demand repression, subjection, and even sacrifice of the little Ego; yet the experience of humanity clearly proves that life thereby suffers neither degradation nor disintegration, but rather, that it is thus strengthened and regenerated. Life is certainly not weakened or extinguished in the efforts to gain truth and beauty, in the activity of the scholar and the artist, in social and philanthropic work. By enfranchisement from the little Ego, life has gained in expansion and strength. Man is conscious of finding his real self and of developing his innermost being in such work, not of promoting ends outside himself. All deeper religions and systems of philosophy have in common this requirement that man should give up his little Ego, and they promise that from this renunciation a new life shall be born, which is of infinitely greater meaning and value than the old life. The movement towards spirituality is not a mere negation, but leads to an assertion founded on the basis of negation. Once man has found the right plane of life, and has acquired a new individuality, the gulf between man and the universe is bridged over. Man can then come into inner relation with reality, and can take possession of the infinite. This is the meaning of Goethe's lines: