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Henry Sidgwick- Eye of the Universe

Page 37

by Bart Schultz


  these in fashioning our minds to a facile and unquestioning admission of common

  but unwarranted assumptions. (ME )

  This too is a test especially needed in ethics, since “it cannot be denied that

  any strong sentiment, however purely subjective, is apt to transform itself

  into the semblance of an intuition; and it requires careful contemplation

  to detect the illusion” (ME ). Third, the “propositions accepted as

  self-evident must be mutually consistent,” since it “is obvious that any

  collision between two intuitions is a proof that there is error in one or the

  other, or in both.” This condition must not be treated lightly, as though

  the difficulty “may be ignored or put aside for future solution, without any

  slur being thrown on the scientific character of the conflicting formulae”

  (ME ). Fourth and finally, since “it is implied in the very notion of

  Truth that it is essentially the same for all minds, the denial by another of

  a proposition that I have affirmed has a tendency to impair my confidence

  in its validity.” Indeed, “the absence of such disagreement must remain

  an indispensable negative condition of the certainty of our beliefs,” for “if

  I find any of my judgments, intuitive or inferential, in direct conflict with

  a judgment of some other mind, there must be error somewhere: and if I

  have no more reason to suspect error in the other mind than in my own,

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  Henry Sidgwick: Eye of the Universe

  reflective comparison between the two judgments necessarily reduces me

  temporarily to a state of neutrality” (ME –).

  In other writings, Sidgwick tended to collapse the first two conditions

  into one, so that his philosophical intuitionism involved the three-pronged

  demand for clarity and ability to withstand critical reflection, consistency

  or coherence, and consensus of experts – all this conceived not as a guar-

  antee of indubitable truth, but as the best way to reduce the risk of error.

  All three methods are important; none can stand alone, though philosophy

  is especially concerned with the second, since its “ideal aim” is “systemati-

  sation – the exhibition of system and coherence in a mass of beliefs which,

  as presented by Common Sense, are wanting therein” (LPK ). How-

  ever, Sidgwick was always inclined to add that “the special characteristic

  of my philosophy is to keep the importance of the others in view.” This

  deceptively simple statement will turn out to be of the first importance.

  In it there is a crucial link between Sidgwick’s formal philosophical work

  and his general practice of inquiry: how, that is, science “sets before us an

  ideal of a consensus of experts and continuity of development which we

  may hope to attain in our larger and more difficult work” (PSR ). The

  fellowship of Apostolic inquiry and the discussion society thus found for-

  mal expression in Sidgwick’s epistemology, which is consequently far less

  vulnerable to the charge of celebrating the solipsistic individual knower.

  Of course, much would ride on just how one determined the “sources” of

  likely error and, correlatively, the trustworthiness of fellow inquirers, and

  on this count, Sidgwick, as later chapters will show, ended up betraying

  some serious Eurocentric failings. Perhaps surprisingly, given the way

  in which system and coherence seem to be exactly what the dualism of

  practical reason undermines, Sidgwick explains in the Methods that his

  “chief business” in his analysis of commonsense morality has been with

  the first, Cartesian condition, “to free the common terms of Ethics, as

  far as possible, from objection on this score” (ME ). As he frames

  it, his business has been to show how the purported “self-evidence” of

  commonsense or dogmatic intuitional morality scarcely even begins to

  meet the conditions of a genuine science. Thus, “what at first seemed

  like an intuition turns out to be either the mere expression of a vague

  impulse, needing regulation and limitation which it cannot itself supply,

  but which must be drawn from some other source: or a current opinion,

  the reasonableness of which has still to be shown by a reference to some

  other principle” (ME –). For as soon as we attempt to give these

  glittering generalities

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  the definiteness which science requires, we find that we cannot do this without

  abandoning the universality of acceptance. We find, in some cases, that alternatives

  present themselves, between which it is necessary that we should decide; but

  between which we cannot pretend that Common Sense does decide, and which

  often seem equally or nearly equally plausible. In other cases the moral notion

  seems to resist all efforts to obtain from it a definite rule: in others it is found

  to comprehend elements which we have no means of reducing to a common

  standard, except by the application of the Utilitarian – or some similar – method.

  Even where we seem able to educe from Common Sense a more or less clear

  reply to the questions raised in the process of definition, the principle that results is qualified in so complicated a way that its self-evidence becomes dubious or

  vanishes altogether. (ME –)

  Of course, as noted earlier, Sidgwick does not mean to frustrate alto-

  gether the “strong instinct of Common Sense that points to the existence

  of such principles,” though he is also very sensitive to the fact that “the

  more we extend our knowledge of man and his environment, the more we

  realise the vast variety of human natures and circumstances that have ex-

  isted in different ages and countries, the less disposed we are to believe

  that there is any definite code of absolute rules, applicable to all human

  beings without exception.” Rather, what we find is that there

  are certain absolute practical principles, the truth of which, when they are explic-

  itly stated, is manifest; but they are of too abstract a nature, and too universal in their scope, to enable us to ascertain by immediate application of them what we

  ought to do in any particular case; particular duties have still to be determined by

  some other method.” (ME )

  In this way, the process of reflection actually leads Sidgwick to accept

  a number of intuitively justifiable principles of this formal and abstract

  nature, though there has been a remarkable disagreement among com-

  mentators as to just how many he sets out. Even the derivation of

  utilitarianism is rather more complex than so far indicated, and involves

  considering “the relation of the integrant parts to the whole and to each

  other” i
n order to obtain

  the self-evident principle that the good of any one individual is of no more impor-

  tance, from the point of view (if I may say so) of the Universe, than the good of

  any other; unless, that is, there are special grounds for believing that more good is likely to be realised in the one case than in the other. And it is evident to me that as a rational being I am bound to aim at good generally, – so far as it is attainable by my efforts, – not merely at a particular part of it.

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  From these two rational intuitions we may deduce, as a necessary inference, the

  maxim of Benevolence in an abstract form: viz. that each one is morally bound

  to regard the good of any other individual as much as his own, except in so far

  as he judges it to be less, when impartially viewed, or less certainly knowable or

  attainable by him. I before observed that the duty of Benevolence as recognised

  by common sense seems to fall somewhat short of this. But I think it may be

  fairly urged in explanation of this that practically each man, even with a view to universal Good, ought chiefly to concern himself with promoting the good

  of a limited number of human beings, and that generally in proportion to the

  closeness of their connexion with him. I think that a ‘plain man,’ in a modern

  civilised society, if his conscience were fairly brought to consider the hypothetical question, whether it would be morally right for him to seek his own happiness

  on any occasion if it involved a certain sacrifice of the greater happiness of some

  other human being, – without any counterbalancing gain to any one else, – would

  answer unhesitatingly in the negative. (ME )

  But it could take some doing to bring the plain person – not to mention

  the “sensual herd” – to this conclusion. And even the moral theorist has

  some ways to go. As Sidgwick had noted in the first edition, the

  hedonistic interpretation which Mill and his school give to the principle of Uni-

  versal Benevolence, seems inadmissible when the principle is enunciated as a

  self-evident axiom. In thus enunciating it, we must use, as Clarke does, the wider

  terms ‘Welfare’ or ‘Good,’ and say that each individual man, as a rational being,

  is bound to aim at the Good of all other men.

  And this, Sidgwick continues, brings us back to the basic question of what

  is “Good,” to which a return is made in the final chapter of Book III:

  And here, perhaps, I may seem to have laboriously executed one of those circles

  in reasoning before noticed. For this question . . . is the fundamental problem of Ethics stated in its vaguest and widest form: in the form in which we find it

  raised at the very outset of the history of moral philosophy, when the speculative

  force of the Greek mind first concentrated itself on Practice. And here when, at

  the end of a long and careful examination of the apparent intuitions with which

  Common Sense furnishes us, we collect the residuum of clear and definite moral

  knowledge which the operation has left, we find the same problem facing us. We

  seem to have done nothing: and in fact we have only evolved the suppression of

  Egoism, the necessary universality of view, which is implied in the mere form of

  the objective judgement ‘that an end is good,’ just as it is in the judgement ‘that

  an action is right.’

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  Whatever I judge to be Good, I cannot reasonably think that it is abstractly and

  primarily right that I should have it more than another. (ME )

  Again, the tone in later editions is more confident, though Sidgwick

  forever insists that the “identification of Ultimate Good with Happiness

  is properly to be reached . . . by a more indirect mode of reasoning”

  (ME ). And the expression the “suppression of Egoism” would, as

  will presently be shown, cause no end of bafflement, given his claims

  about the dualism of practical reason. Moore’s denial of agent-relative

  goodness would seem to be a development of just this line.

  Still, Sidgwick seems to take some comfort in the fact that the principles

  that he finds in accordance with philosophical intuitionism have also been

  prominently featured in the works of such figures as Clarke, Butler, and

  Kant, as well as by the utilitarian theorists. And there is more to be had

  by way of axioms formulated by philosophical intuitionism. In fact, much

  in the fashion of such recent utilitarians as R. M. Hare, Sidgwick tries to

  appropriate nearly all of Kant’s ethics for his own purposes. Thus, he is

  only too happy to accept “his fundamental principle of duty,” namely, the

  “‘formal’ rule of ‘acting on a maxim that one can will to be law universal,’”

  which is an “immediate practical corollary” of the self-evident principle

  that “whatever action any of us judges to be right for himself, he implic-

  itly judges to be right for all similar persons in similar circumstances”

  (ME , ). This, Sidgwick urges, is the core notion of the idea of

  justice. What is more, we find that when Kant

  comes to consider the ends at which virtuous action is aimed, the only really

  ultimate end which he lays down is the object of Rational Benevolence as commonly

  conceived – the happiness of other men. He regards it as evident a priori that each man as a rational agent is bound to aim at the happiness of other men: indeed, in

  his view, it can only be stated as a duty for me to seek my own happiness so far as I consider it as a part of the happiness of mankind in general. (ME )

  On this last, however, Sidgwick demurs, since he holds “with Butler

  that ‘one’s own happiness is a manifest obligation’ independently of one’s

  relation to other men.” Even so, “regarded on its positive side, Kant’s

  conclusion appears to agree to a great extent with the view of the duty of

  Rational Benevolence,” though Sidgwick is “not altogether able to assent

  to the arguments by which Kant arrives at his conclusion.” (ME )

  Among other things, he thinks that egoism could be universalizable, and

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  Henry Sidgwick: Eye of the Universe

  that it is extremely unclear what a Kantian “self-subsistent” end could

  be (“ends” being things to be sought) and why respect for one’s rational

  nature would entail respect for one’s animal nature as well.

  As the remark on Butler perhaps suggests, Sidgwick’s list of self-evident

  principles also includes, in addition to those of Rational Benevolence

  and Justice or Impartiality, a princi
ple of Rational Prudence, enjoining

  “impartial concern for all parts of our conscious life” – or, in effect, “that

  Hereafter as such is to be regarded neither less nor more than Now” (ME

  ). One common application of this is, of course, the familiar notion

  that “present pleasure or happiness is reasonably to be foregone with the view of obtaining greater pleasure or happiness hereafter” (ME ), but,

  as in the case of the principle of Rational Benevolence, Sidgwick’s strict

  formulation of it leaves open the question of whether the good should in

  fact be interpreted in this way (that is, hedonistically). He argues, as we

  have seen, that it should, but that is a separate argument, and perhaps

  less final than the basic principles of Benevolence, Prudence, and Justice.

  Furthermore, there is a great deal of confusion over how Rational Pru-

  dence gets translated into Rational Egoism in Sidgwick’s view, a confusion

  aggravated by the fact that in the first edition, the discussion of the axioms

  in Book III, Chapter  is quite different, and, as Schneewind notes, “no

  axiom of prudence is presented as self-evident.” The closest he gets to

  asserting the apparent self-evidence of egoism is in some brief remarks

  elsewhere about impartial concern for all parts of one’s life and the need

  to accept Butler’s view that it is reasonable to seek one’s own happiness.

  This is singularly ironic because the first edition is the one with the

  strongest, most dramatic statement of the dualism of practical reason, in

  the concluding chapter. But before addressing this dualism, in the next

  section, a few summary cautions about the interpretation of Sidgwick’s

  epistemology are in order.

  Sidgwick’s intuitionism has been the focus of much heated debate in

  recent decades. Some have sought to assimilate his approach to that of

  Rawlsian wide reflective equilibrium, interpreted as the search for system

  and coherence for our considered convictions at all levels; others have

  appealed to it precisely in order to oppose the (supposed) Rawlsian re-

  liance on common sense, which is seen as relativistic and as failing to do

  justice to Sidgwick’s cognitivist intuitionism. Rawls himself increasingly

  came to stress the contrasts between his own Kantian constructivism and

  any form of rational intuitionism, though he held that the method of

 

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