The economy of happiness

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THE ECONOMY OF HAPPINESS

THE ECONOMY

OF
HAPPINESS

BY

JAMES MACKAYE

BOSTON

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
1906

Copyright, 1906,
BY JAMES MACK AYE.

All Rights Reserved

Published /September, 1906

Go Q. S.

PREFACE

The philosophy of common sense had its origin in ancient
Greece, its most conspicuous expositor during antiquity being
Aristotle. In modern times its development has been due almost
entirely to the English philosophers of the 17th and 18th cen
turies, of whom Hobbes, Locke, Berkeley, Hume and Bentham
are the chief representatives, the so-called "common sense"
metaphysic of Eeid and Hamilton embodying a doctrine less
worthy of such a designation than that of their profounder prede
cessors, Berkeley and Hume. The present work aims to be a
contribution to the English school of philosophy.

The industrial renaissance which began with the 19th century
initiated a critical period in the political philosophy of the
western world. Two divergent avenues of development had
been proposed in the latter part of the 18th century — one by
Adam Smith in " The Wealth of Nations," which appeared in
1776 — the other by Jeremy Bentham in "The Principles of
Morals and Legislation," which appeared in 1789. The first
led to commercialism — the second to utilitarianism. At this
critical period arose the dominant political thinker of the 19th
century — John Stuart Mill. It was for him to determine the
trend of political thought of the century. He determined it.
Failing to appreciate Bentham's discovery of the nature of
intuitionism, Mill evolved an inconsistent theory of utility en
tirely incapable of application. Thus deflected from the path
of common sense, and influenced, no doubt, by the ideals of his
age, Mill followed Adam Smith into commercialism and per
petuated the separation of politics and morality.

In this manner it has come about that the prevailing school
of political philosophy has but one God — Production, and Mill
is its prophet. He who seeks the overthrow of our present
political paganism therefore must deal with the arch-offender
himself, and hence in the following work Mill appears as the
spokesman of his school. It is easy to destroy the dogmas of
commercialism, but not easy to construct a practical substitute

yii

PREFACE

therefor; yet nothing less is required of him who would guide
the practices of society by the theory of utility. In submitting
to criticism the system herein expounded, therefore, I deem
myself entitled to a judgment which will weigh the difficulties
of the attempt in the same scale with its defects.

JAMES MACKAYE.
Cambridge, Mass., March 10, 1906.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

PAGE

Problem of Happiness. Solvable by common sense. Scope of com
mon sense. Suggested order of reading book 1

BOOK I

THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE

CHAPTEE I
INTELLIGIBILITY

Utility of undertaking. Right and wrong — unintelligibility of.
Meaning of meaning. Requirements of intelligibility. Origin of
language. Meaning — how ascertained. Terms — concrete and ab
stract. Table of elementary experiences. Definable and indefinable
terms. Co-ordinates of experience. Nature of definition. Real and
verbal definition. First requirement of intelligibility. Second
requirement of intelligibility. Sufficient intelligibility. Third re
quirement of intelligibility. Summary 7

CHAPTEK II
TRUTH

Nature of relation. Expectation. Extension of its meaning.
Conjunctions — only expectables. Expression of expectation. Kinds
of propositions. Valid and invalid expectations. The scientific
method. Sources of knowledge. Nature of inference. Deduction.
The principle of contradiction. Nature of certainty. Inference by
conversion. Inference by opposition. Inference by syllogism.
Rules of the syllogism. Induction. Observation. Assumption of
existence. Similarity of relation. Principle of the uniformity of
nature. The law of causation. Canons of induction. Degree of
expectation. Probability. Expression of probability. Direct prob
ability. Inverse probability. Assumption of a fair sample. Form
ula of Laplace. Extension of Laplace's formula. Empirical and
derivative laws. The inductive syllogism. Probable deduction.
Combination of evidence. The peithosyllogism or belief -judgment.
Nature of a reason for a belief, etc. Difficulties in application of
the theory of probabilities. First cause. Nature of hypothesis.
Verification. Utility of understanding logic. Nature of reality or
existence. Misunderstanding thereof due to unintelligibility of
terms. Similar misunderstanding of nature of right and wrong . . 33

ix

CONTENTS

CHAPTEK III
UTILITY

PAGE

Voluntary acts — classification of. Diversity of meanmg of right
and wrong. Intuitional and utilitarian meanings. Nature of pleas
ure and pain. Modes of variation of pleasure and pain. Determi
nants of preference. Pain as a determinant. Unit of intensity of
pain Quantity of pain. Pleasure as a determinant. Unit of in
tensity of pleasure. Quantity of pleasure. Relation of pleasure
and pain as determinants. Correct and incorrect preference. Prin
ciple of preference. Curve of happiness. Composition of happiness
curves Absolute right and wrong. The chresyllogism or use-judg
ment. Nature of a reason for an act, etc. Definition of right and
wrong. Utility of understanding the theory of utility. Nature of
utility. Distribution of happiness. Dilemma of distribution. Re
lation of means to ends. Confusion of means and ends. Free will.
Fatalism. Nature of common sense 1

CHAPTER IV
ERROR

Nature of error. Abnormal and normal error. Logomania. Ver
bal emasculation. Proteromania. Pathomania. Variation of
moral standards — inconsistency of. Disguises for custom. Stand
ard of inalienable rights of individuals — disguise for custom. In
consistency with common sense. Standard of natural law. Incon
sistency with common sense. Disguise for custom. Economic
standard. Inconsistency with common sense. Practomania or pro
duction-madness. Disguise for custom. Standard of conservatism.
Nature of caution. Inconsistency of standard with common sense.
Accelerative policies. No substitute for common sense. End or
object of utility 16°

BOOK II

THE TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS
PART ONE — THEORETICAL

CHAPTER V
THE FACTORS OF HAPPINESS

Application of common sense. End of utility to be sought by
employment of means available. Justice. Analogy of politics with
steam engineering technology. Three factors of economy in steam
generation. Three factors of economy in happiness generation.
End of utility attained by successive approximations. Technology
of happiness expressible only in general rules 187

CONTENTS xi

CHAPTER VI
THE FIRST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS

PAGE

Man as a happiness producing mechanism. In primary and sec
ondary capacity. Health. Adjustability. Intelligence. Will. Al
truism. Determinants of foregoing characteristics. Inheritance.
Racial improvement by selection — effectiveness of. Transmissi-
bility of mental and moral characteristics. Racial improvement
by education. Acquired characters. Question of their inheritabil-
ity. Injuries and functional variations. Effects of germinal ex
perience. Acquired characters not inheritable. Confusion of effects
of education with those of inheritance. Racial deterioration — not
through education, but through selection. Deteriorating effect of
civilization. Education. Means of individual improvement. Ob
jects of. Academic education. Dogmatic influences affecting it.
Technical education. Freedom from dogmatism. Education of will.
Education in altruism. Function of the church. Theological
foundation of morality. Dogmatism — theological and political.
Comparison of common sense and other judgments. Origin of dog
matism. Universal distinction between common sense and dogma
tism. Origin of conscience. Fnnction of conscience. Dilemma of
Intuitionism. Influence of intuitionism on morals. Cause of sur
vival of medievalism. Educational importance of comprehension
of significance of dilemma of intuitionism. Danger of dogmatism.
Antidote therefor. Advantages of dogmatism — not to be overesti
mated 196

CHAPTER VII
THE SECOND FACTOR OF HAPPINESS

Possibility of the adjustment of external conditions. Nomencla
ture of subject. Productive and consumptive acts. Their varieties.
Desiderata. Their varieties. Producing and consuming ratio. Law
of self-support. Modes of increasing the margin of self-support.
Production. Unpleasantness of average labor. Labor cost. Meas
urement of production. Efficiency of production. Law of fatigue
of production. Law of diminishing returns of labor. Law of in
creasing returns of labor. Machinery. Origin of. Definition of
a machine. Preparatory and final development. Individiialistic
and socialistic production. Efficiency of socialistic production. Ef
fect on skill and interest of laborers. Labor-saving machinery.
Sentient and non-sentient factors of production. Possible modes of
utilizing machinery. Consumption. Effect of production-madness.
Law of fatigue of consumption. Fallacies connected therewith.
Capacity of man for pain greater than for pleasure. Effects of
retrospection and anticipation. Efficiency of consumption. Average
individual. Self-supporting life. Law of diminishing returns of
happiness. Ideal and actual in technology. Curve A — utility of.
Curve B. Distribution of production and consumption. Nature of
self-sufficiency. Curve C. Mode of calculating daily or yearly

xii CONTENTS

PAGE

happiness output of an average individual. The indicative ratio.
Bearing of law of diminishing returns of happiness on question of
its distribution 266

CHAPTEE VIII
THE THIRD FACTOR OF HAPPINESS

Defective economy of consumption of industrial states. Remedy
therefor. Essential increase in efficiency of production. Effect of
increase and decrease of population on labor cost. Effect on hap
piness output of a community. Beneficent equilibrium. Determi
nation of just number of population. Effect of change in efficiencies
of production and consumption on point of beneficent equilibrium.
Efficiency of conversion. Luxurious tastes — low economy of. Sim
ple tastes — high economy of. Variety of taste. Effect of increase
in efficiency of conversion on population. Analysis of the factors of
happiness. Primary and secondary adjustments. The elements of
happiness. Tests of the social system 318

CHAPTER IX
LIBERTY

Confusion of terms. Nominal liberty. Opportunity. Real lib
erty. The co-essentials of liberty. Objections. Universal human
motives. Law — mode of operation of. The adaptive principle.
Legal liberty. Paternalism. Relation of legal to real liberty.
Theory of laissez faire — fallacy of. Rule of utility. Relation of
liberty to production and consumption. No necessary relation be
tween utility and inaction. Custom. Property — useful and not
useful. Common sense in law. Legal and moral right. Function
of government. Nature of society 333

BOOK III

THE TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS
PART TWO — APPLIED

CHAPTER X
THE SOCIAL MECHANISM

Object of utility attainable only through appropriate social mech-
nmsm. Anarchy. Oligarchy. Democracy. Difficulties of democ
racy. Direct and indirect democracy. Rights of posterity. Char
acteristics of modern nations. Four forms of democratic mechan-
1Sra .355

CONTENTS xiii

CHAPTEE XI

COMPETITION

PAGE

Nature of competition'. Individualism and anti-individualism.
The capitalistic system — characteristics of. Four classes of op
posed interests under the capitalistic system. The labor problem.
Proposed remedies. Effect of competition on the first element of
happiness. Natural selection in nature. In society. Confusion
of the goal of man with that of nature. Law of the survival of
the incompetent. Competition and education. Effect of competi
tion on the second element of happiness. Resignation not desirable.
Dissatisfaction of laborers. Dissatisfaction of capitalists. Com
petition and health. The third element of happiness. Effect of
competition on the fourth element of happiness. Stimulus to devel
opment of machinery. To development of inferior products and
impositions. The morals of trade. Effect of competition on the
fifth element of happiness. Difference between effect upon directive
and executive laborers. Labor organizations. Limitation of out
put. Labor disturbances. Effect of competition on the sixth element
of happiness. Distribution of wealth in the United States. Un
equal distribution a universal symptom of competition. Cause of.
Effect of competition on the seventh element of happiness. Nominal
and real wages. Tendency of wages to a minimum and labor time
to a maximum. Loss of leisure. Objections — not valid. Army of
unemployed. Tendency of indicative ratio to a minimum. Crises.
Need of foreign markets. Effect of competition on the eighth ele
ment of happiness. The Law of Malthus. Offset to the Law of
Malthus. Laws of migration. Popular fallacy concerning popula
tion. Happiness of average man. New York as an example.
Methods of testing its happiness output. Negative output generally
conceded. Conclusion therefrom. Attractions of city. Ideal of a
large population. Natural equilibrium. Proposed method of avert
ing. Effects of unrestricted competition. Operation of law of in
creasing returns alone cannot avert natural equilibrium. India as
an example. Possibilities of increase of population in the United
States. Increase of population in the United States and the prin
cipal countries of Europe 1800-1900. Population and natural re
sources. Consistent practomania vs. consistent common sense.
Comparison of competition with a just social system. Complete
failure of competition to meet the tests furnished by the elements
of happiness

CHAPTER XII
PRIVATE AND PUBLIC MONOPOLY

Evolution of competition into monopoly. Pools. ^ Trusts. Hold
ing companies. Artificial competition. Pseudo-socialism — difficul
ties of. Socialism. Nature and object of. Socialism and corrup
tion. Socialism and political power. Socialism and efficiency of
production. Efficiency of government management. Public utili-

CONTENTS

xiv

PACK

ties Popular misunderstanding of socialism. Confusion with an
archism Confusion with communism. Confusion of socialism in
production with socialism in consumption. Misunderstanding of
morals of socialism. Insufficiency of remedies for competition . .

409

CHAPTER XIII
PANTOCRACY

First essential of an economic social system. Profit — functions
of. Substitute for profit. Constructibility of happiness engine —
guarantee of. Divisions of pantocracy. Public ownership. Regu
lation of output. Regulation of distribution. Labor exchange.
Adaptation of supply of and demand for labor. Means of. Bureau
of inspection. Organization of commodity producing industries.
Disposition of funds. Disposition of personnel. Function of wage
earners and wage system. Conditional compensation. Function
of directors. Sample industry. Six possible conditions of an in
dustry. Supplied and overstimulated industries. Change in pro
ducing time. Industrial coefficient. Calculation of standard num
ber of commodities and standard time. Calculation of required
increase in personnel. Calculation of prices. Rise in prices —
causes of. Simultaneous benefit to producer and consumer in
operation of overstimulated industries. Magnitude of effects.
Supplied and unstimulated industries. Supplied and understimu-
lated industries. Calculation of prices in. Fall of wages in.
Automatic adjustment of. Fluctuating industries. Unsupplied
and overstimulated industries. Existence of, implies abolition of
poverty. Automatic adjustment of. Improvement of conditions in
backward industries. Unsupplied and unstimulated and under-
stimulated industries. Division of working time. Means of in
suring invariable adjustment of supply to demand. Provision for
expansion of industry. Mode of selecting directors of industry.
Mode of determining industrial coefficient. Application to insur
ance. Foundation of improvement in the arts. Stupidity of
present system. Department of industrial improvement. Organi
zation of research. Medical and psychical research. Organization
of invention. Board of improvement. Functions of. Universal
insurance. National education — importance of. Amount of educa
tion determined by efficiency of production. Stimulus to study.
Academic education. Instruction in common sense. Objections to.
Technical education. Reaction upon the advance of science. Ef
fect of pantocracy on the first element of happiness. Suspension
of the law of the survival of the incompetent. Influence on educa
tion. Effect of pantocracy on the second element of happiness.
Hopefulness in labor. Discouragement to pursuit of wealth. In
fluence on health. The third element of happiness. Effect of
pantocracy on the fourth element of happiness. Stimulus to
improvement in the arts. Comparison with competition. Ade
quacy of conditional compensation. Superiority of pantocracy.
Effect of pantocracy on the fifth element of happiness. Identity of

CONTENTS

xv

PAGE

interests of those engaged in industry. Disappearance of the labor
problem. Stimulus to zeal in work. Comparison with capitalism.
Effect of pantocracy on the sixth element of happiness. Large
fortunes impossible under pantocracy. Perfect equality in distri
bution of wealth not sought. Effect of pantocracy on the seventh
element of happiness. Emancipation of society from toil. Growth
of the humanities and the refinements of life universal. Compari
son with effect of competition. Effect of pantocracy on the eighth
element of happiness. Suspension of the Law of Malthus. Cure
of poverty. Husbandry and economic development of natural re
sources. Contrast of pantocracy and competition. Possible modes
of escaping pain produced by society. Necessity of changing the
social system. Delusions of practomania. Commercialism vs.
utilitarianism 429

CHAPTEE XIV
THE NEXT STEP

Danger of conservatism. Contrast with common sense. Pro
visional test of pantocracy. Conditions requisite for its success in
the United States. Immigration problem. Delusion respecting
effects of blending races. Application of common sense to the im
migration problem. Effect on posterity. Opportunity of America.
Immigration and the Law of Malthus. Protection. Influence on
standard of living in America. Improvement in arts no protection.
Effect of restriction on dissipation of natural resources. Initiation
of pantocracy. Qualifications required in initial stages. Care in
extension of the system. Means of transforming private into public
monopoly. Confiscation. Destructive competition. Purchase. Ac
quisition by issue of non-inheritable bonds. Necessity of restriction
on the right of bequest. Acquisition by payment of diminishing
interest. Centralization safe with direct legislation. Extension of
the Golden Rule. Inconsistency of asceticism. Patriotism vs. hu-
manitarianism. Laissez faire theory of free trade. Utilitarian
theory of free trade. Comparison of their effects upon output of
happiness. Foreign trade unnecessary for the United States. Effect
of utilitarian theory of free trade on immigration. Injustice of
fatalism and sentimentalism. Abolition of war. Humanitarianism.
Primitiveness of present treatise. Principles of criticism. Test of
practicability. Shallowness of current criticism. Science to solve
the problem of happiness 492

THE
ECONOMY OF HAPPINESS

INTRODUCTION

Human intelligence from the time of its origin has been en
gaged in the attempt to solve one great problem — the prob
lem of happiness — and it has failed to solve it. Throughout
history the activities of nature and of man have combined to
develop the world's potentiality for pain and to leave undevel
oped the world's potentiality for pleasure. However hopeful
for a happier end, men's acts have not been adapted to its at
tainment. Hence the great problems of every age, though
manifold in form, are one in substance. To-day as always,
the omnipresent problem is how to avoid unhappiness and
achieve happiness. The being for whom this problem has no
interest is not sentient.

If men have failed to solve the problem of happiness it is
because they do not know how to solve it. It is not because
they lack the will, but because they lack the knowledge. The
numerous abortive attempts to cure the ills common to mortal
ity have disposed many persons to the belief that they are in
curable — that what has so long been sought in vain must be
in its nature so elusive as to be unattainable, and he who pre
sumes to make a frontal attack on the great problem and offer
a general solution of it is viewed with suspicion. He is re
garded as a dreamer, crank, or nostrum-monger, whose cure-all
may safely be spurned as the product of shallowness and pre
sumption. I have no disposition to question the justice of this
common judgment, nor to ignore the experience on which it is
founded — yet whatever odium attaches to him who attempts
a general solution of the problem of happiness I cannot con
sistently avoid, for in the work to follow I attempt to formu
late precisely such a cure-all, precisely such a universal pana
cea, as critics delight to deride, and in submitting it to the

1

INTRODUCTION

public, do so with complete consciousness of the risk such a
course involves. The panacea I propose is common sense, and I
claim that it will cure all the ills which can be cured by any
means whatever, and that it offers a complete solution of the
problem of happiness. Moreover I claim that there is no other
solution, and that the many substitutes which have been pro
posed and practised will prove in the future, as they have in the
past, to be delusions.

But perhaps it may be suspected that in offering common
sense as a universal panacea, I am seeking to avoid the re
sponsibility of an ambitious claim by perpetrating a platitude.
Anything may be labeled common sense — the name is free
to whomsoever cares to employ it, and it is as easy for a sophist
to prate of common sense as for a corruptionist to prate of
patriotism. Before the solution proposed can be taken .se
riously then, it must be ascertained what we are really tatlnng
about — whether about a word or something more" than a
word. It is only reasonable to challenge such a claim as I
have made by the direct question : Just what do you mean by
common sense? To judge from the mode in which the term
is most often applied, it appears to mean that kind of sense
the absence of which men frequently notice in others, but never
notice in themselves. Is this the variety of sense to which 1
have reference? No — it is not; for though this variety of
sense is common, it is not common sense.

By the term common sense I refer to a kind of sense sus
ceptible of tests which are independent of the convictions of
any man or assemblage of men. Its rigorous application re
moves any problem from the realm of opinion, though not from
that of probability. It is my purpose in Book I to offer an
analysis of common sense which will, in the measure required

J™T gn °f this work' disclose the tests specified.

When we ask a question beginning with the word why that
lor which we inquire is a reason, and reasons are of two classes,
and only two. (1) Reasons for beliefs or expectations (2)
Reasons for acts or policies. To ask a question beginning with
the word why, is to ask either « Why do you believe or expect "?
Why do you do?" Common sense postulates that reasons
are the tests of beliefs or acts, and that beliefs or acts are not

h* ** the primary concern °f common

is with the nature of a reason. The common quality

nr %brffS £ ^ The c™n q^lity of reason^
acts is utility. Hence it is with the nature of truth and

INTRODUCTION 3

utility that common sense is primarily concerned. Could the
nature of utility be independently comprehended, a compre
hension of the nature of truth would be superfluous, for the
ultimate object of common sense is identical with that of util
ity. But utility, as will subsequently be shown, is indetermi
nate in the absence of truth. Truth, however, may be com
municated or expressed only by means of symbols, verbal or
otherwise; and these symbols may or may not be adapted to
their purpose. The common quality of symbols adapted to the
expression of truth is intelligibility, and it is a quality as often
replaced by unintelligibility in speech, as truth and utility are
replaced by untruth and inutility in beliefs and acts respec
tively. A comprehension of its nature is essential to a com
prehension of the nature of a reason. Common sense then is
concerned first with the nature of intelligibility, second with
the nature of truth, and third with the nature of utility, and to
the discussion of each of these subjects I shall devote a sep
arate chapter. Having ascertained what common sense is in
Book I, I shall in Books II and III seek to apply it; not
indeed to the problem of happiness in its totality — that would
be to discuss every subject of human interest — but to that
phase of the problem which concerns the fundamental policies
of society.

Before making this attempt, however, it is only fair to warn
the reader that I shall not discuss the subjects of greatest popu
lar interest — the concrete applications of common sense —
until Book III is reached. It has been my effort to make the
earlier parts of the work as interesting and intelligible as the
nature of the subject would permit, but despite the best inten
tions, I fear Book I will prove dry — some portions of it very
dry — to the general reader. Book II is better, though the ex
position of the Law of Diminishing Returns of Happiness is
perhaps rather irksome. As this work seeks to reach, and if
possible interest, the class of general readers, or rather such
portions thereof as may concern themselves with the great social
problems of the present age, I deem it no impropriety to offer
some advice to those who are more interested in the applica
tions than the abstractions of philosophy. If apprehensive of
being bored by a discussion of logical or ethical theory, I sug
gest that they first read, or at least peruse, Book III. If what
is there expressed appears to lack common sense, I recommend
that they read Book II in which are developed the principles
applied in Book III. If common sense seems still to be con-

4 INTRODUCTION

spicuously absent, Book I, which seeks to develop the phi
losophy of common sense from the constitution of the mind
itself should be read. If it appears that the principles there
in expounded, or any of them, are departed from in Books I
and III, I recommend that the reader specifically locate the
point of departure, for if common sense has been departed from
at all, it must be at some particular point. If such a point is
discoverable, then our solution of the problem of happiness is
to that extent invalidated. If not, then either common sense
has not been departed from, or its nature has been misappre
hended. Should the reader come to the latter conclusion, it
might be well for him to satisfy himself just where the misap
prehension has occurred. This can be done by comparing the
principles of common sense as I have expounded them with the
principles as they are, and noticing the point or points of di
vergence. This in turn requires a knowledge of the principles
as they are — a, knowledge not to be acquired "by intuition/'

Should criticism show that the following analysis does not
embody the true principles of common sense, I shall be com
pelled to acknowledge the defeat of my primary purpose in
offering it; but even should it do no more than stimulate the
search for those principles, it will, in that degreee, have con
tributed to the solution of the problem of happiness.

BOOK I

THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE

CHAPTER I

INTELLIGIBILITY

It is customary for those whose purpose it is to expound, to
commence their task with a demonstration that the exposition
they have in mind is one which it is useful to undertake. Such
a demonstration on the part of the present expounder would
be one of peculiar difficulty, since as his purpose is an examina
tion into the nature of usefulness and the formulation of pre
cepts sanctioned by that examination, an attempt by him to con
form to custom would necessitate the demonstration that a
knowledge of the nature of usefulness is useful. But fortu
nately that which makes the task difficult makes it superfluous,
since those who admit the proposition will require no demon
stration, and those who deny it, admit by their denial that they
speak without meaning.

For a thing to be useful it must be a means to some end and
the end must be a good or desirable one. Hence the quality
of usefulness in a means implies a quality of goodness or de
sirability in the end. But means are employed for the attain
ment of ends only by intelligent beings and the employment
of a means to an end by an intelligent being is called a volun-
try act. Usefulness then is a quality present or absent in vol
untary acts, and as usefulness in a means requires goodness
in an end we are led to inquire what kinds of acts will lead to
good ends. This is clearly the old question as to what con
stitutes the difference between right and wrong — a question as
old as philosophy.

Kant tells us that the object of philosophy is to supply the
answer to three questions : What can I know ? What ought I to
do ? and For what may I hope ? Three questions which every phi
losopher attempts to answer, but so far without success in secur
ing the acquiescence of the world. Were we able to supply an
answer to the second query there would be no further question
as to the difference between right and wrong, for it is univer
sally conceded that we ought to do right and ought not to do
wrong. To many persons it may seem strange that at this late

7

8 THE- PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

date in the world's history we are still inquiring as to the
difference between right and wrong. .Surely that must
been settled long ago. At any rate, we hear men of intelligence,
clero-vmen, statesmen, publicists, predicating Tightness, useful
ness or desirability of this act or policy, and wrongness, useless-
ness' or undesirability of that one, with an assurance which, it
would seem, must be bom of an intimate knowledge of just
what the qualities are which are so confidently predicated. And
vet a little examination forces upon us the suspicion that, alter
all, their knowledge cannot be so complete as the confidence
the'y express in their convictions might lead us to believe; for
we 'find that from a consideration of the same data different
men come to different conclusions as to what is right and what
is wrong. Can any given act or policy be both right and wrong ?
From what we see and hear around us it would seem so. If we
ask the next educated man we meet to explain this apparent
anomaly, he will probably inform us that these differences in
opinion depend upon different "points of view"; and by the
delivery of this judgment will doubtless feel assured that the
mystery is at once cleared up. Judging by my own experience,
men believe that any paradox may be explained by saying that
it all depends upon the point of view. But with all deference
to the potence of the phrase, we are constrained to inquire:
Does ten times one make ten, or does it depend upon the point
of view? If it does, then we see at once what is meant by the
phrase. It merely refers to the fact that whether ten times one
is ten or not, depends upon the meaning of the words — some
thing that a child might have told us. If it does not, then
clearly a knowledge of right and wrong does not rest on a
foundation so universally conceded to be sound as does a knowl
edge of the multiplication table. If it did, there would be no
more controversy about the one than there is about the other.
The fact is that just what men predicate of acts or policies
when they predicate Tightness or wrongness of them, is practi
cally always unknown even to those making the predication.
This may appear an astonishing assertion, yet the fact must be,
and generally has been, admitted by everyone who examines the
subject.

In the introduction to his essay on " Utilitarianism," pub
lished in 1861, John Stuart Mill uses the following language :

" There are few circumstances among those which make up the
present condition of human knowledge, more unlike what might

CHAP. I] INTELLIGIBILITY 9

have been expected, or more significant of the backward state in
which speculation on the most important subjects still lingers, than
the little progress which has been made in the decision of the con
troversy respecting the criterion of right and wrong. From the
dawn of philosophy, the question concerning the summum bonum,
or what is the same thing, concerning the foundation of morality,
has been accounted the main problem in speculative thought, has
occupied the most gifted intellects, and divided them into sects
and schools, carrying on a vigorous warfare against one another.
And after more than two thousand years the same discussions
continue, philosophers are still ranged under the same contending
banners, and neither thinkers nor mankind at large seem nearer
to being unanimous on the subject, than when the youth Socrates
listened to the old Protagoras, and asserted (if Plato's dialogue
be grounded on a real conversation) the theory of utilitarianism
against the popular morality of the so-called sophist."

The condition thus described is the same to-day as it was
when the words were uttered. The subject, though the most
important to which the attention of the human mind may be
directed, is in such a degree obscure that, save for the accident
of common traditions, men have no common ground upon which
judgments concerning right and wrong may be founded — no
criterion by which a good act may be distinguished from a bad
one. Now is there anything in the nature of the question which
makes it inaccessible to human investigation — is it essentially
unknowable — or has there been some constant source of error
or confusion operating in the past, which has thwarted the ef
forts of those who have sought to penetrate the obscurity sur
rounding it? In this essay I shall attempt to establish a pre
sumption that the first hypothesis is incorrect, and the second
one correct.

To settle the question of right and wrong requires that we
separate human acts into two, or into three classes : either, into
(1) Eight, (2) Wrong; or into (1) Right, (2) Wrong, (3)
Neither Eight nor Wrong; and further requires that we estab
lish some specific criterion by which we may be able to deter
mine to which of these classes any particular act belongs. Now
in general how do we go to work to ascertain whether or not
any particular thing belongs to any particular class? Ob
viously by first ascertaining the characteristics of the thing and
of the class. How, for example, should we ascertain whether
a stone picked up on the roadside belonged to the class rock or
not? We must first know what we mean by a rock, must we
not? We certainly could not ascertain if we did not know.

10 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [B

it does not belong to that class. This is simple enough *ow
,upp^e we desire to ascertain whether any particu ar act
befongs to the class right act, how shall we proceed?
dentil by first ascertaining what is meant by the word
S In examining the acts which men call right how-
e" er it appears that there must be considerable confusion
in the minds of those who use the term, for whi e by their
language implying the existence of a common test
and wrong, they never mention what it is or quote anyone
who does Of course, unless we know the meaning of right
it is absurd to attempt to ascertain whether any particula:
act is right or not, nor is it of any service to suggest that the
meanino- Of the word cannot be specified because men disagree
as to just what is signified by it. This is only to assert that
Tightness is something or other about which men disagree.
an assertion does not distinguish the quality of Tightness from
the taste of tripe, and leaves us just as wise as we were belor<
anything was said. There can then be no doubt that the first
thing to be done in attempting to settle the question of right
and wrong is to ascertain the meanings of the terms. This
appears reasonable, but how shall we know when we have ascer
tained them? How shall we distinguish between a real and a
spurious meaning? Of course many attempts have been made
to give the words right and wrong a meaning. Every diction
ary claims to do it, but examination shows that the definitions
or' synonyms they supply are not necessarily, or even generally,
meanings. Hence, following the process outlined above, it looks
as if we should first have to proceed to discover what we mean
by a meaning; and this is in fact what we must do.

Now it is obvious that we know something about what we
mean by a meaning, but it is not so obvious that we might not
with profit know more; and there is reason, to believe that the
failure to sufficiently examine the nature of meaning, and to
apply the knowledge so gained, has in the past been a constantly
operating source of confusion, obscuring not only the question
of right and wrong, but the whole domain of philosophy, and
has been the cause of the justly merited discredit in which such
subjects are held by many thinkers. Metaphysics is notoriously
barren. Its cultivation has been compared to the occupation of

CHAP. I] INTELLIGIBILITY 11

milking a he goat into a sieve. Well might Newton say,
" Physics, beware of metaphysics," for should the methods of
metaphysics be introduced into physics there would be an end
to its usefulness. In metaphysics we too commonly find the
chaos which we should expect to find in geometry if we began
the study of that science without defining any of the terms
used ; endeavoring, for example, to prove that an equilateral tri
angle is equiangular without knowing what is meant by the
words angle or triangle. The terms used in philosophy are, to
be sure, much more difficult to adequately define, but their defini
tion, when possible, is for that reason not the less imperative.

Words are either equally intelligible or they are not. He
who denies that words, or their equivalent symbols, vary in in
telligibility denies the possibility of a communicable philosophy
— he denies the possibility of any communication between sen
tient beings, and by his very denial convicts himself of incon
sistency. He who admits it, admits that there is something
which makes, or may make, one word more intelligible than
another — he admits that intelligibility is a specific, testable
quality of words. Philosophers have a definite test for the con
sistency of propositions, but none for the intelligibility of terms.
The principle of contradiction supplies a criterion of the forms
of propositions; a principle of intelligibility is required as a
criterion of their substance, and to a communicable philosophy
the second principle is as essential as the first.

There are three requirements which every useful symbol of
communication, whether verbal or otherwise, must possess. (1)
It must have meaning. (2) When used as a means of inter
communication, i. e., of communication between individuals, it
must not mislead. (3) When used as a means of intra-com-
rnunication, i. e., of communication within the mind of a single
individual, it must not mislead. It is obvious that these re
quirements call for more or less conformity to usage, but strict
conformity they do not call for. If they did, equivocality and
avocality (p. 31) would be requirements of intelligibility. In at
tributing particular meanings to terms, as much conformity to
usage as the infirmities of usage will permit should be sought,
but where the issue is between usage and intelligibility it should
always be decided in favor of the latter.

Intelligibility is evidently a useful quality of words, but it is
not the only useful quality. Usefulness in words may be either
of sound, or of sense. Of the first quality we shall have no
occasion to treat — it is of importance to poets and rhetoricians,

12 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BooK I

but not to logicians. Usefulness of sense, on the other hand, is
of such importance that communicable knowledge would be im
possible in its absence. Language has arisen among men be
cause it could serve them, just as any other tool or device has
arisen. Words are the signs of ideas or other experiences and
are used primarily to communicate the ideas or other experi
ences in one mind to another. The idea or other experience
of which a word (or clause) is the sign is called the meaning
of that word (or clause). Had it been of no service to men
to communicate their experiences language would not have
arisen. Therefore it is those experiences which it is of use to
communicate which will find expression in words. The experi
ences which men have occasion to communicate most frequently
they will attempt to communicate easily. We should therefore
expect to find the most common and conspicuous objects of, or
distinctions in, experience expressed by single words rather than
by clauses, and this is what we do find. The words, I, you,
earth, sun, hand, north, south, up, down, illustrate such' com
mon words. Common or conspicuous classes of objects, such as
men, animals, trees, houses, clouds, etc., among general terms
and common qualities of objects, such as wetness, dryness, Urn-
ness, hardness, coldness, etc., among abstract terms are also
represented by single words. For most of the less common
objects, classes of objects, qualities, or combinations of qualities
no distinctive term is used. Were it so, the number of words
in a language would become immeasurably great. Appropriate
combinations of the words expressive of the more common ob
jects of experience or their qualities — i. e., clauses, are used
to designate these subordinate experiences. There is a word for
building .applicable to any building, but there is no single word
for bmldingwith green blinds, or four-story building, or build
ing with thirty windows, though had these objects been suffi
ciently common among the experiences of men, there is no

Tvor Tl Jf a^epara^name Sh°uld not have been de™ed for
to ' ^ L TV ^herever ^ has been sufficiently serviceable
to have them distinct names have been devised. A building

±UaS a dWe11^? 1S Called a howe' one used ** worship a
church, one used for purposes of trade a store, shop or warl
house, one used for incarceration a prison, etc. The reason whv

CHAP. I] INTELLIGIBILITY 13

is not. There is sufficient occasion to call attention to the dis
tinctions expressed by the first method of classification, while
the occasions for calling attention to the second are so infre
quent that a descriptive phrase suffices to express them. No
people will ever have a name for any object or class of objects
of which they have no experience. The Esquimaux have no
name for banana, elephant, jungle, coral or pineapple. The
aborigines of Central Africa probably have no name for acean,
locomotive or newspaper,, and before the advent of Europeans
they probably had no name for clothes. But all peoples have
names for sun and moon, for day and night, for food, water
and fire, for these are familiar to all. In fact we may be quite
certain that all conspicuous objects of, or distinctions in, ex
perience which are from their nature universally familiar, will
generally be represented in language by single words, and
vice versa words common to all languages may be expected
to represent experiences which are everywhere considered worthy
of emphasis. But whatever a word may signify, it is essential
that it shall not signify one thing to him who utters it and a
totally different thing to him who hears it uttered. There must
be some understanding between men as to what particular sym
bols, verbal or written, shall represent particular experiences,
and any confusion in this understanding will be likely to defeat
the very purpose which symbols are devised to serve.

There are two methods by which a mutual understanding as
to the meaning of words may be attained — definition and
exemplification. The first method makes the meaning plain by
associating in an appropriate manner the word to be defined
with other words whose meaning is already known; the second,
by associating the word directly with the experience of which
it is the sign, or with some sensible representation of it; as
when children are taught the meanings of the words cat, dog,
man, tree, house, by associating the words with pictures of the
appropriate objects, or with the objects themselves. We may
also exemplify by means of words — as when we convey the
meaning of the word horse to a foreigner by telling him that
it is the animal to be observed drawing vehicles in the street.
The meaning of words is best conveyed where both methods
are employed, one supplementing the other, for each has its
advantages. A definition is not an enumeration of all the qual
ities of a thing or class of things, but only of so many of them
and no more, as are necessary to distinguish the thing or class
of things from other things or classes of things, and the num-

14 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BooK I

ber and degree of the qualities which it is essential to specify
will depend upon the degree of resemblance between the object
defined, and other objects of experience from which, for the
purpose in hand, it is convenient to distinguish it. The care
required in exemplification is dependent upon similar consid
erations.

In discussing the subject of intelligibility there is one class
of words which we shall have no occasion to consider; such
words, for example, as the, quite, and, of, slowly, and conjunc
tions, prepositions, and adverbs in general. They are what the
schoolmen called syncategor&matic words, or words which have
no meaning by themselves, but only when combined with other
words. They represent nothing of which anything niav be
predicated.

The principal class of words which we shall have occasion to
discuss are what is known as lenutt or names. They may con
sist of one or more words, llobbes has defined a name as fol-
UA name is a. word taken at pleasure to serve for a
mark, which may raise in our mind a thought like to some
other thought which we had before, and which, being pro
nounced to others, may be to them a sign of what thought the
speaker had before in his mind." This definition evidently
conforms to our notion of the nature of meaning, and is suf
ficiently explicit for our purposes.

Terms are generally divided for purposes of definition into
two classes, concrete and al^nict terms. Concrete terms are
the names of things; abstract terms the names of qualities of
things. Apple is a concrete term; the form, the flavor, the
color and all the other qualities of the apple are represented
by abstract terms. The form has no single term to represent
it, as in any actual apple the form is very complex; to the
flavor is given the name tartness or street-ness according as it is
L tart or a sweet apple; to the color is assigned the term red-
ess, greenness, etc., according to circumstances, and so with the
>ther qualities, and when all the qualities of the apple have
been enumerated, the apple is completely described for the
apple and the sum of the qualities of the apple are the same
thing, and even two apples, or two other material objects whose
qualities are identical, except for a difference in their location
m space, or time, or both, will be distinguishable bv the dif-
eivnce m quality implied by such a difference in location.
\\eie they identiea in their location in space and time they
would not be two objects, but one. This is all we mean when

CHAP. I] INTELLIGIBILITY 15

we say two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same
time, for under such conditions they would, by definition, be one.

As any object or thing is merely a combination of qualities,
so any concrete term is merely a short symbol for expressing
the combination of several — perhaps a great many — abstract
terms; it is a sort of compound abstract term. In fact all, or
almost all, our experiences consist of compound impressions or
ideas, often of great complexity, and this is particularly true of
visual experiences. Objects seen are generally recognized as
consisting of a very complex association of sensations of form
and color. To enter into any detailed discussion, of the psychol
ogy of sensation would take us too far away from our present
subject. Suffice it to say that compound qualities, of which ob
jects are limiting cases, are recognized as consisting of simple
qualities related to one another by what is termed the relation
of co-existence. In the idea of an apple, for example, we recog
nize the qualities of redness, hardness, sourness, and others
associated together as elements constituting the experience of an
apple, but in such a term as redness we can recognize no con
stituents. The first is an example of a compound, the second
of an elementary experience. In the degree in which compound
experiences contain the same elements they are similar; in the
degree in which they contain different elements they are dissim
ilar. Two experiences consisting of the same elements, includ
ing location in space and time, would, as already explained, be
indistinguishable, that is, they would be one experience.

Although elementary experiences, also called simple, percep
tions, are indefinitely numerous, they all belong to a few classes.
According to Huxley the following table of the mind's con
tents includes them all. (T have slightly modified his classi
fication.)

TABLE OF TTTE CONTENTS OF THE MIND.

(1) Impressions.

A. Sensations.
a Smell
b Taste
c Hearing
d Sight
e Touch

f Resistance (the muscular sense)
g Pleasure
h Pain

16 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BooK I

B. Eelations.

a Co-existence
b Succession
c Similarity
d Dissimilarity
(2) Ideas.

Copies,, or reproductions in memory of the fore
going.1

Impressions characterized by the sensations designated a, b,
c,, d,, e and f are called phenomena. All other experiences are
non^phenomena.

If the above list represents the complete contents of the mind,
it is evident that all men can think of, or speak of, must be
included in it; and he who seeks a foundation for philosophy,
whether speculative or practical, must find it here. But with
out debating the question as to whether or not the list is
complete, it is clear that it includes the principal classes of ele
mentary experiences, and I shall base no conclusion upon as
sumptions which depend for their validity upon its complete
ness. If then a term is, as Hobbes has told us, a word " to
serve for a mark, which may raise in our mind a thought
. . . which, being pronounced to others, may be to them a
sign of what thought the speaker had before in his mind," or
if, as the authors of the Port Eoyal Logic assert, " Words are
sounds, distinct and articulate which men have taken as signs
to express what passes in their mind," then terms must rep
resent some elementary experience or combination of such, since
they are all that can be in the mind, and hence, if our list is
complete, it must include, not only all of which men can think,
but all to which names can be applied, and if it is not com
plete, it does not mean that terms do not represent experiences,
but merely that one or more elements of experience are absent
from the list.

' Mill gives the following list of " Nameable Things," with
such remarks as he deems appropriate :

" 1st. Feelings, or States of Consciousness.

" 2nd. The Minds which experience those feelings.

"3rd. The Bodies, or external objects which excite certain of
those feelings, together with the powers or properties whereby
they excite them; these latter (at least) being included rather in

1 Essay on Hume, p. 85.

CHAP. I] INTELLIGIBILITY if

compliance with common opinion, and because their existence is
taken for granted in the common language from which I cannot
prudently deviate, than because the recognition of such powers
or properties as real existences appears to be warranted by a
sound philosophy.

"4th and last. The Successions and Co-existences, the Like
nesses and Unlikenesses, between feelings or states of conscious
ness. Those relations, when considered as subsisting between
other things, exist in reality only between the states of conscious
ness which those things, if bodies, excite, if minds, either excite
or experience." x

A short inspection of this " Classification of Existences "
must convince anyone that it is as hopelessly confused as the
Categories of Aristotle which it is designed to replace. If
indeed, contrary to our claim, names do refer to something not
to be found among the contents of the mind, it is obvious
that such as do so cannot be defined or exemplified, since these
are processes for directing the attention of one mind to a
portion of its contents similar to that which is engaging, or
has engaged, the attention of another. It would, I appre
hend, be difficult to say what can be meant by the meaning
of a name, if Mill's category of nameable things be accepted,
unless indeed, it is intended to represent his manner of classi
fying the contents of the mind, and such a supposition would
seem to be precluded by his inclusion of " States of Conscious
ness " in the first category. Words are, or should be, the signs
of ideas or impressions, a,nd a term which does not represent
something in experience has no meaning at all; its only use
is in its sound. A term useless in sense is merely a meaning
less term. A term useful in sense is one which has a meaning
— i. e., one that symbolizes something in experience. Now the
definition of a term is an enumeration of the qualities essential
to distinguish the class of experiences represented by the term
from other classes of experiences; hence it is obvious that
terms which represent the elements of experience cannot be
defined, since, as they do not consist of a combination, no
enumeration is possible. They cannot be expressed in terms
of simpler experiences. Elementary experiences then, are ex
pressed in indefinable terms — all others are expressed in de
finable terms — and, as all compound experiences are but com
binations of elementary ones, it follows that all definable terms,
in their last analysis, must be expressible in indefinable terms;

1 System of Logic, Longmans, Green and Co., 1889, p. 49.
2

18 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

and if we find the definition of a term not expressed in terms
thus indefinable, we ma}7 know that the definition has not been
reduced to what we may denominate its lowest terms.

It is well to call attention here to the fact that although
elementary experiences may not be expressible in simpler terms,
they are not necessarily simple, if we mean by simple having
no quality common to other experiences, lied and green, for
example, are called different kinds of colors — that is, they are
both colors or possess the common quality of color; but we are
quite unable to think of a color which is not some particular
color. The sound of a flute is not a compound of the quality
sound with some other quality x. Red is not a combination of
some simple quality which we may term y with the quality
color — as an apple is a combination of the color red with the
quality of oblate-sphericalness and numerous others. In the
case of the apple we are able to separate these qualities from
one another, and to recognize the object called an apple as
their sum ; but when we speak of kinds of sounds or kinds
of smells or kinds of tastes, the word kind does not imply a
relation of combination. Yet it must be admitted that red,
yellow, green, etc., have some quality in common, otherwise we
should not apply to them the common term — color. Red, for
instance, resembles green more than it resembles the shape of a
sphere or of a cube. By what do we recognize this difference
in resemblance? It is convenient to answer this question by
saying that it is by means of the presence or absence of the
quality color that we do so. On the other hand, the experience
of red and the shape of a, sphere resemble one another more
than either of them resembles the taste of a pickle or the sound
of a horn. They therefore have a common quality, absent in
the taste or sound — a quality to which we give the name
visuality. That is, red is a kind of color, color is a kind of
visuality, or visual experience, visuality is a kind of sense (one
of the senses), and classed with the others by reason of the com
mon quality of sensuality, and sensuality is a kind of experience
— the common quality of experiences is known as consciousness,
and it is the only absolutely simple quality of experience.

In order to have words adapted to express the relation be
tween such qualities as red and color, or taste and different
kinds of tastes, and to enable us to distinguish between the
undissociable relation by them exemplified, and the dissociable
relation exemplified by the various qualities, redness, tartness,
hardness, etc., whose combination we call an apple, we shall

CHAP. I] INTELLIGIBILITY 19

denominate qualities related in the latter manner abstmctable
qualities, whereas those related in the former manner we shall
call unabstractable. Hence an elementary quality of experience
is not an absolutely simple one, but a compound of unabstractable
qualities, none of which are definable.

Now while terms which stand for elementary experiences
cannot be defined, they may easily be exemplified. The term
red, for instance, may be exemplified by pointing out that it
stands for the quality present in a brick and a brilliant sun
set, but absent in an evergreen tree and a sheet of white paper.
Although the qualities of visuality and of color would be pres
ent in the first two examples, they would not be absent in
the second two. The quality red is the only one which would
fulfil the conditions. Similarly the odor of ammonia cannot
be defined, but it may easily be exemplified. Of course, the
table on page 15 is that for a person of normal faculties. It
would not hold good for a. blind or a deaf person, for example.
To a person blind from birth, it would be impossible to convey
the meaning of any term representing a visual experience, since
the elementary experiences could not be exemplified, and the
same is true of a person deaf from birth with regard to terms
expressive of sensations of sound. In fact the communication
of meaning, in its last analysis, is dependent upon the power
to exemplify, and a definition not founded upon exemplifiable
elements of experience can never get beyond the verbal stage.
From these considerations it appears that a term incapable of
definition can have a meaning, but that one incapable both
of definition and of exemplification cannot.

Experiences are characterized, and may be designated, by the
absence of qualities as well as by their presence. Thus such
terms as colorless or odorless are employed to express the ab
sence of color and of odor respectively. The word nothing is
employed to express the absence of all quality; that is, noth
ing is that which is inexpressible in terms of experience.

It would be a useless, if not a hopeless, task to express all
terms in indefinahle terms; it is seldom if ever necessary to
do so, because although all elementary terms are capable of
being made familiar to a person of normal faculties, they
are not the only terms that are, for there are many familiar
terms that are not elementary. It is well, however, to keep
in mind the fact that a term not defined in terms of ele
mentary experience, is only proximately defined, and if, in its
use, we find ourselves or others led to perplexing or unexpected

20 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [Boon I

conclusions, we should at once suspect our definition,, for in
the inadequate definition of terms is to be found the most
elusive of all sources of confusion.

It seems to some persons inexpedient to examine into the
meanings of the words used in an argument. If such a one
in the course of a discussion is asked to explain the mean
ing of some term he has used, and gives it perhaps in words
no less unfamiliar than those already emplo}red, and is re
quested to define his definition, he is likely to claim that such
a mode of criticising an argument is illegitimate, and that
we should not attempt to define all words. A smilar impres
sion is shared by some logicians. The author of the Port Royal
Logic remarks :

" I say, further, that it would be impossible to define all words ;
for, in order to define a word, we must of necessity have others
which may designate the idea to which we may attach that word ;
and if we still wish to define the words which we have employed
for the explication of it, we should still have need of others and
so on to infinity. It, therefore, is necessary that we stop at some
primitive terms which cannot be defined; and it would be as great
a fault to wish to define too much as not to define enough, because
by one or the other we should fall into that confusion which we
pretend to avoid." *

Now if we have made no mistake in our apprehension of the
nature of definition, the " primitive terms which cannot be de
fined " are those representing elementary experiences ; hence if
A is defined in terms of B, B in terms of C, C in terms of D,
etc., the process cannot be carried on to infinity, but must stop
when it has arrived at the indefinable but exemplifiable terms
representing elementary experiences; and if necessary we are
entitled to inquire into the meaning of terms used in discus
sion to any degree requisite to convert a verbal into a real
definition (p.. 24) . It is obvious that such a succession of
inquiries, if carried on in bad faith, can make discussion im
possible — it is always easy for bad faith to find means of es
caping an argument which it cannot meet — but this is no reason
why discussion in good faith should not be permitted any de
gree of latitude in inquiring into the meaning of terms : indeed
it would be preposterous to deny the propriety of such inquiry,
since, should we do so, the sophist could, without fear of in-

1(The Port Royal Logic, 5th edition; Edinburg, p. 85.

CHAP. I] INTELLIGIBILITY 21

terruption, make inferences of any degree of absurdity by a
succession of fallacies of equivocation. But while it may be
perfectly proper, it is not often expedient to attempt to reduce
definitions to their lowest terms; our effort should be to re
duce them to terms sufficiently (p. 28) low. Pascal in the
Port Eoyal Logic has well expressed the proper course as fol
lows :

" The most perfect method available to men consists not in de
fining- everything and demonstrating everything, nor in defining
nothing and demonstrating nothing, but in pursuing the middle
course of not defining things which are clear and understood by
all persons, but of defining all others; and of not proving truths
known to all persons, but of proving all others."

Whatever else may be meant by the word personality, it cer
tainly refers to a succession of states of consciousness, not, to
be sure, isolated and distinct from one another, but melting the
one into the other in what Professor James has called a
" stream of consciousness " normally discontinuous only during
periods of sleep. It is convenient to be able to refer to par
ticular portions of this stream, and to any particular portion
is given the name of a state of consciousness, or we may call it,
an experience. It is better, however, in general, to apply the
name experience to some specified portion of a state of conscious
ness, co-existent with other portions, though we may include the
whole as a special case. Thus the same state of consciousness
generally contains many experiences. For example, we may be
eating, while at the same time listening to conversation, looking
about us, and walking up and down. Under these circum
stances, we have simultaneous experiences of taste, hearing,
sight, touch (of our feet on the ground) and of the muscular
sense, and each of these by centering our condition thereupon
may be found to consist of several, perhaps a great number, of
experiences which we may — unless unabstractablc — consider
as distinct, and in subsequent contemplation separate from the
experiences with which they were co-existent.

When a state of consciousness is thus divisible into two or
more co-existent portions, each may be called the associate of
the others, so that if we have occasion to fix our attention on
any particular experience — call it A — which is recognized
as bearing, or having borne, the relation of co-existence to other
experiences — B, C, I), etc., then B, C, D, etc., may be called
the associates of A. The relation of the state of consciousness

22 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

of which A is a component to those which precede and succeed
it, we shall call its location in time, or simply its location —
the location of A being the same as the location of its asso
ciates. Thus if d is the state of consciousness of which A
is a component and it is one of a series of consecutive states,
b, c, d, e, f, etc., then b, c, will be its immediate antecedents,
e, f, its immediate consequents and the position which d occu
pies in the total sequence of which b, c, d, e, f, etc., are a
portion is its location. The associates and the location of A
will collectively be called its primary co-ordinates, as they com
pletely fix its place as a component of personality. By its sec
ondary co-ordinates we shall refer to the relations of simul
taneity and succession which it bears to the experiences of other
beings.

In actual experience elementary sensations do not occur in
haphazard association, one combination on the whole being as
frequently experienced as another, but certain combinations are
much more common and frequently occurring than others, and
indeed of the immeasurable number of possible combinations
elatively few are encountered in experience. Certain constant
ombmatipns continually recur, and the great variety of experi
ence consists of these constant combinations with which from
moment to moment, variable qualities associate themselves In
the world of experience, expressible in terms of sight and touch
for example^ we find continually present the combination of
qualities which is expressed by the term space. However our
sensations of sight may vary, these qualities persist and on
analysis may be recognized as elements of all our varying visua*
experiences of the world of external things. Certain other con
stant qualities added to those of space give us the association
of experiences which we call matter, for matte pos es s aU
he quahties of space -in fact is a peculiar kind of space -

by tte adS of a Prrliar ki?d °f matter' Matter Hun

CHAP. I] INTELLIGIBILITY 23

until in developed languages such names as object or thing are
to be found, which in ordinary usage are comprehensive enough
to include any concrete combination of visible and tangible
experiences whatever. The recognition of an object as be
longing to, or included in, a class of similarly constituted ob
jects resembling one another in certain specific attributes, and
of this class in turn as belonging to a greater class, and so on,
is of considerable service in the consideration of the nature of
definition. Let us consider the following series of definitions:

(1) An oak is a tree which bears acorns.

(2) A tree is a plant with a trunk, and perennial in dura
tion.

(3) A plant is an organism, devoid of consciousness under
all circumstances.

(4) An organism is a material body possessed of life.

(5) A material body is an existence which occupies, but is
not space.

(6) An existence is anything real.

Without inquiring into the intrinsic merit of these defini
tions, let us call attention to several points illustrated by
them. .

First, they are (with the exception of No. 6) expressed m
a form which definitions in general may be made to assume,
viz. : A is a kind of B — An oak is a kind of tree, A tree is a
kind of plant, A plant is a kind of organism, etc. In the
language of logic a definition has three parts: (1) The species
which is the thing or class of things defined. (2) The genus,
a class of things having greater extension (see below) than the
species, and serving to exclude the species from all classes of
things not included in the genus. (3) The difference, consist
ing of one or more qualities distinguishing the species from
other members of the genus. Thus in definition No. 2, tree
is the species, plant the genus, and the quality of perennwlness
and those implied in the possession of a trunk, the difference.
The genus distinguishes a tree from all things not plants ; the
difference from all plants not trees. No. 6 would probably
never serve the purpose of a real definition. It is not in logical
form and is no more than a statement of the equivalency of
synonyms.

Second, they illustrate what is called the extension and the
intension of terms. Concrete terms have two kinds of mean
ing: (1) The meaning in extension or the sum of the things of
which the term is the name, e. g., the word tree is the name

24 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BooK I

of any and all trees wherever found, and (2) The meaning in
intension or the sum of the qualities which distinguish the thing
or class of things of which the term is the name from all
other things or classes of things, e. g., the qualities implied in
the term tree added to, or combined with, the quality of bearing
acorns, distinguish oaks from all other things whatever. The
fact that whatever bears acorns is always an oak does not make
the attributes of a tree any the less an essential part of the
definition of an oak, since in the absence of these attributes,
or any of them, any acorn-bearing object would not be called
an oak. The definitions also illustrate what is universally true,
viz., that, as the extension increases, the intension decreases,
and vice versa. The term plant, for example, is the name of
many more objects than the term tree; but the term tree pos
sesses or implies a greater number of qualities than the term
plant. The first has the greater extension, the second the
greater intension. Terms are said to denote their extension
and connote their intension.

Third, they may be made to illustrate the difference between
real and verbal definitions, than which no distinction in the
theory of definition is more crucial. As we have pointed out on
page 17, to know the meaning of a term is to know its intension,
i. e., the qualities which distinguish the object for which it is a
name from other objects, but these qualities are either one or
more of the elementary perceptions recorded on page 15, or some
combination or class of combinations of them. Therefore, to
know the meaning of a term is to know the sum of the ele
mentary experiences by which the objects of experience for
which it is a name are distinguished from other objects of ex
perience. This does not necessarily, though it does frequently,
mean that these are the experiences which we will have if we
encounter the object; neither does it mean that these experi
ences are reproduced in consciousness when we hear the term
and apprehend its meaning. What it does mean is, that should
we encounter the combination of elementary experiences im
plied by the term, we should recognize them as the object of
which the term is the name. We might encounter an oak, for
example, and yet^from the definition alone might not recognize

it, strictly speaking, .from one encounter, we could not yet

we certainly would, if of normal faculties, perceive a combina
tion of sensations in its presence, and sensibly the same com
bination as that received by a person whose observation of
the tree had been sufficient for him to have determined it to

CHAP. I] INTELLIGIBILITY 25

be an oak. On the other hand., on hearing an oak spoken of,
the recognition of the meaning of the term would not neces
sarily involve any definite image of an oak arising in our mind.
We might think only of some symbol., such as the word oak, and
if the term recognized had been one of slight intension like
the term matter, we almost certainly would have thought of
some symbol. It is scarcely possible that the image of matter
should have arisen in our minds, since it can hardly be said
to have an image. If, however, by sufficiently long continued
observation of an object we satisfied ourselves that it was a
tree, namely, possessed a trunk and lived for a series of years,
and furthermore observed that it bore acorns, we should recog
nize it as the object to which the name oak was applied. More
over, we should not have been able to make these necessary
observations had we been devoid of the faculties (of sight)
through which the elementary sensations of which the observa
tions were the sum, were felt, nor should we have been able to
recognize the sensations so felt as those implied in the term
oak, had we been ignorant of what sensations were
implied by that term. Such terms as peculiarity, demon-
strativeness, awkwardness, etc., are subject to the same
rule. On encountering a combination of elementary experi
ences implied by one or another of these terms we should
either recognize it as one to which the term was applicable, or
we should not. If we did, the term would have a meaning for
us; otherwise it would not. The uncertainty which we feel
about such terms is but the evidence that they are vague, that
is, have no very definite and delimitable meaning.

A definable term is simply a short symbol or abbreviation
for its definition, and its definition may be substituted for it in
any proposition without altering the import of the proposition,
just as in algebra the values of x and y may be substituted for
them in any equation without altering the truth of the equa
tion. Thus the word plant is a short method of saying
" an organism devoid of consciousness under all circumstances,"
just as 4x4 is a short method of saying 4 + 4 + 4 + 4 and 4* is
a short method of saying 4x4x4x4. We thus express in a
single term 44 what in the notation 4 x 4 x . . . it takes four
terms to express, and had we substituted the first mode of
notation 4 + 4+ . . . we should require sixty-four terms to
express what is expressed by 44 in one. Now a similar con
venience attaches to the terms used in language. Few de
finable terms, except those of very slight intension, would bear

26 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK 1,

expression in elementary terms without becoming unuseable and
unintelligible from their very length. We may illustrate this
in a partial manner, sufficient to suggest the inconvenience
involved, by expressing the term oak in terms obtained by sub
stituting for the several genera in the series of definitions we
are considering, the definitions as given. Thus — An oak is
an existence, which occupies but is not space, possessed of life,
devoid of consciousness under all circumstances, with a trunk,
and perennial in duration, which bears acorns. This merely
suggests what the definition would become were we first to
define every term in it, including those employed, in stating
the several differences,- in indefinable terms. Should we have
the patience and ingenuity to do so, the definition would ex
tend over several pages, and be completely unintelligible, nor
could we construct a useful definition in terms of elementary
experience of any term with such -Teat intension as the term
oak. These considerations afford us insight into the mechan
ism of thought itself. They show us that not only is our
capacity for expressing thought to others limited by the sym
bols available, but our capacity for thinking as well. If any
one will observe himself while thinking out a subject of any
complexity, he will find he is in reality talking to himself and
those familiar with several languages will in this process by
preference, employ the language most familiar. Although we
cannot express with any precision in terms of elementary ex
perience what we mean by the term oak, yet we are confident
that when we encounter the appropriate experiences in com
bination we shall recognize that they are those implied in that
term and this, of course, we could not do, were we ignorant
of what they were. When a person is thus able to recognize
the experiences implied in a term and connect Ihem with the
term as constituting its meaning, we shall say that the term
is one familiar to him, and it is this which we shall imply by
the adjective familiar when qualifying the sense of a term It
too often happens that a word familiar in sound is ass

A and B' to whom we
oak is a tree which bears acorns"
ami B top T with the to™ *™ and acorns,

iu t b*th Y and *lm lh?r fwi Vhem aml with the word <**>

definition Thl A ^ famffiar with the other words of the
Ihen A may be .aid to ha/e a real knowledge B to

CHAP. I] INTELLIGIBILITY 27

have a verbal knowledge of the meaning of the term oak. B,
if he understood the language, would know that the word oak
was a short method of expressing the succession of articulate
sounds " A tree which bears acorns " but this knowledge would
not help him in communicating his experiences to others, or
of apprehending the experiences which they might seek to com
municate to him. To him, the definition would be of precisely
the same value as the expression : " An x is a y which bears
zs." A, on the other hand, would have not only the verbal
knowledge possessed by B, but his familiarity with the terms
in which the definition was expressed would enable him to
use the term oak to achieve the ends which words are intended
to achieve — those namely, of thinking and of communicating
thought. To convert B's verbal knowledge into a real one, we
should have to continue defining the words tree^ acorn, etc.,
until we reached words with which he was familiar, or we
should have to teach him their meaning by exemplification, and
thus by directly associating the term with the combination of
elementary experiences which it represented, make him familiar
with it.

The foregoing discussion having revealed the real nature of
meaning, we are prepared to reduce the information now in
our possession to definite criteria.

To satisfy the first requirement of intelligibility it is neces
sary and sufficient that a term symbolize something in experi
ence. Thus if the term x symbolize one or more combinations
of elementary experiences to one person A and symbolize the
same or different combinations to a second person B the first
requirement of intelligibility is satisfied. The term has mean
ing.

To satisfy the second requirement it is necessary that what
ever combination of elementary experiences the term x signifies
to A, it shall signify to B a combination such that when used
in communication between A and B neither shall be misled.
The processes which insure the fulfilment of the second require
ment are definition and exemplification. Hence the necessity
we have been under of discussing them. The extent to which
these processes must be employed to achieve sufficient similarity
between A's meaning of the term x and B's meaning thereof
will depend upon the use to which the term is to be put. A
term is useful in sense only when it is employed in the ex
pression of probability. Therefore, in this part of our discus-

28 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

sion, we shall be forced to anticipate the chapter following in a
slight degree. It is there shown that probability is the name
of a quality common to expectations having a specific origin,
and that the expression of these expectations is embodied in
propositions which include two or more terms. What concerns
us here is that the necessary degree of similarity between A's
meaning of the term x and B's meaning of that term will de
pend upon what expectation it is to be used to express in com
munication between A and B. Now all that is necessary in
order to meet the second requirement of intelligibility is that
the similarity in meanings signified by a term shall be such
that the expectations which it is employed to express shall be
the same in the mind of the person to whom said expectations are
communicated, as in that of the person who communicates them
I his does not mean that the expectations in both minds must
3 identical, but simply that the expectations designed to be
expressed must be identical. When this condition is fulfilled
the term will not be misleading — when it is not, the term will
be misleading -and thus the implication of the adjective mis
leading is made plain It is apparent then, that for some pur
poses very little similarity in the meanings of a term is re-

a'nTtltY'T* the eXpreSSi°n °f misleadinS expectations,
and that for other purposes great similarity is required For
example, if A understood by the term potato t^t which is gen!

stoof h 1 1 ' 7'Z" a CGrtain edible tuber; and B under

stood by the same term a very different thing, viz that which
is generally called a pumpkin, the meaning of the" term would
be sufficiently similar in the minds of A aSd B if the^xTcte-
ion to be communicated was expressed by the propos tion " Po

apparent that

CHAP. I] INTELLIGIBILITY 20

ing of a term so long as the propositions in which it is em
ployed are such as to be valid whichever of the various mean
ings are attributed to it. Intelligibility does not require that
terms always be understood in exactly the same meaning. If
it did, few" terms outside of mathematics would be intelligible
and the bulk of the words in all languages would be useless.
I have not, for example, attempted to define or exemplify every
term used, or to be used, in this work. It would obviously be
impossible. The common knowledge of a language among men
implies greater or less similarity among the meanings which
they attach to the terms occurring in that language. If any
term used in communication is insufficiently defined or exem
plified for the purpose to which it is put, it will inevitably
lead to misapprehension, but everyone who seeks to communicate
thought by language is compelled to trust the definition or
exemplification of the great majority of the terms he uses to
the common processes which constitute the acquisition of a
common language. These processes do not insure the fulfil
ment of the second requirement of intelligibility, and hence
arises confusion which can only be remedied by carefully fixing
the meaning of those terms which cause the trouble. .Such
terms I shall attempt to sufficiently define or exemplify, but
others I shall leave alone, thus following the counsel of Pascal
of "not defining things which are clear and understood by all
persons, but of defining all others/' Care in the definition
of terms, however, involves one difficulty. By restricting the
use of words to certain definite meanings they are no longer
available as means of expressing the distinct, though related,
meanings to which usage extends them. Hence these meanings
are left with no means of verbal expression. In mathematics
this dilemma would cause no difficulty, since additional symbols
would be brought into requisition wherewith to express them;
but such a policy is scarcely practical outside of mathematics
since it would introduce into language too many strange and
unfamiliar terms. Therefore I have, in a number of instances
in this work, used terms in meanings not identical with those
I have attributed to them, but in all cases have been careful
to employ them in such a context as not to mislead. In a bare
outline of the principles of intelligibility, such as this chapter
pretends to be, it would be impractical to formulate a nomen
clature sufficiently extensive to eliminate all equivocal terms.
To discover equivocality in the terms used in this exposition
then does not constitute a criticism thereof, since the vital

30 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

question is not, are the terms used in any degree equivocal?
but, are they sufficiently equivocal to mislead ?

Another mode of criticism which cannot be deemed valid as
. applied to an exposition of the character of this one is that
which makes usage the test of terminology. As the object of
language is to communicate thought, the all too common method
of criticizing definitions according as they do or do not con
form to usage, results in deflecting the most important of issues
into the barren realm of purely verbal controversy. The mean
ings of terms should be judged according as they are or are
not adapted to bring clearly before the mind the important
objects of, and distinctions in, experience; not as to whether
they are or are not in conformity with this or that usage.
Failure to apprehend this matter leads to verbal emasculation,
a subject discussed in Chapter 4.

The second requirement of intelligibility, so far as T am
aware, admits of no more specific expression than that which
I have employed. In general this requirement can only be
met when we have knowledge of the substance of propositions.
Relationships to the form of propositions are indeed discover
able, but I deem them scarcely worth discussion in this essay.

Having thus prescribed the conditions required to meet the
second requirement of intelligibility, we may proceed to inquire
what conditions are required to meet the third. We have ob
served that the operation of thinking is essentially an operation
of talking to one's self. The formulation of propositions is the
function of a different mental faculty from that which tests
their validity. In the operation of thinking we have a condi
tion equivalent to that of communicating thought — the
situation is practically the same as when one person submits
propositions to another. Fence the conditions necessary to
meet the third requirement of intelligibility are the same as
those required to meet the second, and the absence of these con-
htions will cause a person to mislead himself in the same way
that they will cause one person to mislead another If the
reader doubts that this be so, I recommend that he attempt to
express to himself what he means by such words as cause ex-
is ence, matter-^] if ]ie can at the first attempt specify the
qualities, and the only qualities, which he implies by those
heTaVSirCT J ^ t0,.Stand ever>y subs^ent test which
ticaTZ~y' T^ PJ°-Te hlm " Pers°n °f ext™°rdinarv analy
se! MrnT h I ^ t0 reC°gni'Ze what ^alities ^ hii-
implies by those terms, can he avoid admitting that his

CHAP. I] INTELLIGIBILITY 31

knowledge of his own meaning may be insufficient for com
municating -certain thoughts, even to himself? No one can
long have observed the operations of the human mind, his own
or others, without noticing with what facility men mislead
themselves with words, and this would not occur if the require
ments of intelligibility were fulfilled. But a yet more sig
nificant phenomenon is to be observed than the confusion of
one meaning with another. Men frequently perform mental
operations resulting in the formulation of purely verbal propo
sitions which are neither true nor untrue but simply unmean
ing. By inducing similar barren manipulations of terms in
other minds they may construct a whole series of verbal propo
sitions which have the form of doctrines, but being devoid of
any element of expectation are incapable of symbolizing truths.
Approval of a formula is thus mistaken for belief in a propo
sition.

The word sufficient as applied to terms which meet the sec
ond requirement of intelligibility I shall apply in the same
sense to terms which meet the third requirement. That is, a
term used in thought is sufficiently denned or exemplified, suf
ficiently intelligible or familiar, if it conveys the expectations
in the expression of which it occurs without misleading the
thinker. The word insufficient will be employed with a cor
relative meaning.

It may be said of any term in common use that it either has
one and only one meaning, or it has not. If it has, it is called
a univocal term. If it has not, it is either equivocal or avocal
(Lat. a or a& = not: vox = & voice, a word) that is, it has more
than one meaning or less than one. If it is avocal, its only
usefulness consists in its sound. If it is equivocal, it will be
useful for some purposes but not for others, and whether it^is
safe to use it or not will depend upon whether it fulfils, or fails
to fulfil, the appropriate requirement of intelligibility.

To summarize: terms are used either for inter-communica
tion or intra-communication. To satisfy the necessary and
sufficient conditions of intelligibility, they must, if of the first
class, fulfil the first, and second : if of the second class, the first
and third requirements of intelligibility. Terms may on this
basis be classified into (a) Inter-intelligible (b) Inter-unm-
telligible; and into (c) Intra-intelligible (d) Intra-unintelli-

jrible.

3 Inter-univocal terms all belong to class (a). Inter-equivocal

terms may belong to class (a) or to class (b). Intcr-avocal

32 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BooK I

terms belong to class (b). Similarly intra-univocal terms all
belong to class (c). Intra-equivocal terms may belong to class
(c) or class (d). Intra-avocal terms belong to class (d).

While it would be very convenient if all men employed the
same terms with one meaning and only one, this is not abso
lutely necessary for inter- or intra-communication. If the con
ditions of sufficient intelligibility are met confusion will be
avoided — but let no one cherish the delusion that because
terms are sufficiently intelligible for some purposes that they
will be sufficiently intelligible for all purposes. The examples
which we shall hereafter encounter will, I believe, leave no
excuse for such an error.

Of all insufficiently intelligible words, right and wrong are
the most important. In attempting to discuss their meaning,
we found ^it necessary first to discover the meaning of the word
meaning itself. This we have done, but before our goal is at
tained a still more difficult subject must be discussed which
will constitute the theme of the next chapter.

CHAPTER II

TRUTH

As all with which the philosophy of common sense concerns
itself is mind, and as the object of the present chapter is to
disclose the nature of truth, the attainment of that object will
require a further examination of the Table of the Contents of the
Mind (p. 15). It will there be observed that the several classes
of experience are divided into (A) Sensations and (B) Rela
tions. The basis for the classification is sufficiently obvious.
Any particular sensation of sight, taste, touch, pleasure, pain,
etc., may be experienced independently of any other, but percep
tions of relation are derivative, and arise from the comparison or
association of at least two impressions or ideas. The percep
tion of similarity cannot be experienced until at least two im
pressions or ideas which, on comparison, exhibit that quality,
have arisen in the mind, and the same is true of the percep
tions ^of dissimilarity, and of co-existence and succession. To
experiences which thus arise from the comparison of experiences
we give the name of relations and those enumerated in the
table are the four classes of elementary, or indefinable, rela
tions. By the name impression we shall designate only those
vivid experiences characteristic of perceptions of the external
world, and following Hume we shall give to other kinds of per
ceptions, Consisting largely of the less vivid copies or derivative
combinations of impressions supplied by the imagination, the
name ideas. If we examine ideas, we shall find that they con
sist of a great many classes. To two of these I desire to call
attention. (1) Those consisting of copies of simple percep
tions recognized as being combined in a manner similar to some
combination which has in the past been experienced — these
we call memories. (2) Those consisting of copies of simple
perceptions cognized as being combined in a manner similar to
some combination which is in the future to be experienced —
these we call expectations. Both of these classes of ideas may
vary much in definiteness, from vivid copies to obscure adum
brations, from distinct images to mere suggestive symbols.
3 33

34 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [Boon t

As illustrating the symbolic character of expectations it may
be noted that the anticipation of such severe physical pain as
that of having a tooth pulled, in itself involves no pain _
or at any rate none resembling that expected.

Expectations may be copies of memories., or they may not
be. The perception of succession is common to both expecta
tions and memories, but it is clearly not the only perception
implied by the terms, for if it were we should be unable to
distinguish between them. It is, however, an unabstractable
quality of both classes of experiences, and they may be con
sidered as two kinds of perceptions of succession, just as we
may consider green and red as two kinds of sensations of color.
To express the particular class of experiences which will form
the principal subject of this chapter no single word in our
language has as yet been devised. The term expectation, how
ever, is the nearest approach to it : hence for the purpose of this
exposition I propose to give to that term an extension of
meaning, independent of usage, by means of which the theory
of the nature of truth herein maintained may be expounded
In thus extending the meaning of a term already well known
and slightly, if at all, ambiguous, I am but adopting the method
commonly employed in expounding mathematics, of enlaro-i™
the implication of such terms as product, power, root etc as
higher and higher branches of the subject are reached/ and 'the
gam in usefulness which justifies the extension in the latter
case, justifies it in the former.

The term expectation as already defined then, I shall regard
as referring to but one subdivision of the class of experiences
to the expression of which I shall extend it. In its implication
as already given, it is subject to the three following restrictions.
It Defers only to personal experiences — the anticipated
XiZl Thd the exPec,tatr ^ereof must be felt by theLne
individual they are part of the same sequence. (2) It refers
only to actual experiences -to those actually expected. (3)
lTf7 t0 ^ exPeriences- The extension I propose
the term may be said to consist of the removal of these

£ extension^

:ffi,,,™us

CHAP. II] TEUTH 35

impersonal expectation is definite if the person or being whose
experience is expected is specifiable; indefinite if unspecifiable.
When we say we expect our brother John will have dyspepsia to
morrow, we express a definite impersonal expectation. When
we say we expect an eclipse of the sun will be observed in
Africa on the fifteenth of the month, we express an indefinite
impersonal expectation.

(2). Under the term expectation I shall include, not only
anticipations of actual experiences or such as are anticipated
under the actual conditions expected, but also of such as would
be experienced were those conditions different. The distinction
is between " what is expected " and " what might be expected."
Such expectations I shall call conditional as distinguished from
unconditional. When we say we expect to see the sun rise to
morrow, we express an unconditional expectation. When we
say we might expect to see it rise if we were awake early enough,
we express a conditional expectation. One peculiarity, and
that an important one, of conditional expectations is that they
may be entertained of experiences possible in the imagination
only — a point discussed on page 93.

(3). Under the term expectation I shall include not only
anticipations of experiences which may or might be felt in the
future, but also of such as were or might have been felt in the
past — and in the case of impersonal expectations of such as
may or might be felt at present. The first distinction is be
tween " what is expected " and " what it is expected was or
would have been." Such we may call past as distinguished
from future expectations. The second distinction is between
" what is expected " and " what it is expected is or would be."
Such we may call present as distinguished from future ex
pectations. When we say we expect Socrates drank poison, we
express a past expectation. When we say we expect our brother
John is eating lobster salad in the next room,, we express a
present expectation.

Two kinds of restrictions upon expectables are from what
has preceded readily discoverable. (1) That due to the ab
sence of some faculty, such as sight, hearing, or touch. (2)
That due to the relation of contradiction, the presence of one
quality implying the absence of its contradictory. The one
restricts the "hinds of perceptions which may enter into an ex
pectation: the other restricts the combinations in which they
may enter. In other words, we are unable to expect a con
junction between elementary experiences or combinations thereof

36 THE PEINCIPLES OF COMMON" SENSE [Boon I

which we have not experienced,, as a man blind from birth is
unable to expect a conjunction including the color yellow; and
we are equally unable to expect a conjunction between contra
dictory qualities, as between hard and not hard, white and not
white, when these terms refer to the same object or portion
thereof.

_ In order to avoid troublesome explanations, iterations, and
circumlocutions, I shall generally in the exposition to follow
speak of expectations as if they were always personal, actual,
and future, but the theorems which I shall establish concern
ing them will not be restricted to that class of expectations, but
will be true of expectations in general, and may be applied
thereto by noting the manner in which I have extended the
meaning of the term. As future expectations are by far the
most important class, particularly for the purpose which this
work has m view, little will be lost in failing to adapt our mode
o± expression to expectations of the past and present

The words horse, wall, star, hardness, dryness, etc' obviously
express no expectation. It cannot be said that alone thev
express anything capable of being expected or not expected and
t is indeed clear that a single term cannot express an expecta
tion. If however, we say « The wall is hard » we have evidently
expressed something capable of being expected. That which
is expected is a conjunction between the qualities implied by
the terra .wall with the quality of hardness; and it is true in
general that the only expectable things are conjunctions or the
absence of conjunctions between elementary experiences or
commons thereof Even in the expectation expressed bv
uch a proposition as « I am to see my friend" the impressions
implied by the phrase "my friend - are expected to be con
joined with definite, though perhaps unspecifiable, primarv co
ordinates Indeed if they were not, the expectation wZd not
be recognized as a personal one. The elementary experiences
or combinations thereof between which conjunction '^expected
(or observed are called the members of the conjunction^

- 'l™^ °f an e*Pec^ion is called

CHAP. II] TKUTH 37

tions are adapted to expression in this particular form results
from the manner in which experiences are distributed. We
have already suggested that although all combinations of ele
mentary experiences are imaginable except contradictory ones,
yet in fact all combinations do not occur with equal frequency
in experience; but that certain combinations are much more
frequent than others. To the most common or conspicuous
combinations distinct names are awarded, and thereby the world
of experience is divided into a great number of classes. The
names of these classes are called general terms. The words,
planet, house, man, material thing, volition, emotion, are ex
amples of general terms. A general term, however, may be
expressed by a phrase, and often is. Thus such a phrase as
" Persons employed for the purpose of keeping the peace "
would be a general term. Now the classes of objects of ex
perience of which general terms are the names may or may not
be mutually exclusive. When we say a class of objects is dis
tinguished by the qualities A, B, C, D, we do not mean that
no member of the class has any other qualities, but merely that
all members have these. .Similarily a class characterized by the
qualities a, b, c, d, may have many other qualities besides.
If we designate the first class by X and the second by Y, it
is evident that X and Y may have members in common or
they may not. That is, X and Y may overlap each other in
extension in any degree limited by mutual exclusion on the
one hand, and by complete inclusion or identity on the other.
The amount of this overlap determines the degree of complete
ness of conjunction in intension, and by the use of quantitative
propositions may be expressed to various degrees of precision;
but in order to make matters simple, it is usual in formal
logic to treat only four forms of proposition.

To express complete inclusion logicians employ the form
— All Xs are Ys, affirming inclusion and denying exclusion.
To express mutual exclusion they employ the form — No Xs
are Ys, affirming exclusion and denying inclusion. It might
be expected that the most convenient way of expressing a partial
overlap would be by the proposition — Some Xs are Ys and
some are not, and this in some cases might be a convenient
form. For the purposes of logic, however, it is found best
to express a partial inclusion or exclusion by two different
forms of proposition, viz.: (1) Some Xs are Ys, and (2) Some
Xs are not Ys. A very little consideration will make evident
the reason why these forms are generally more convenient than

38 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BooK I

the preceding. When we have discovered that there is an over
lap between classes X and Y and desire to express that dis
covery it is most convenient to say — Some Xs are Ys. While
it might be true that some Xs are Ys and some are not, it is
obvious that it would require more observation to justify such
an assertion than it would the first form, since the simple
discovery that some Xs are Ys does not necessarily imply that
some are not. Hence the proposition — Some Xs are Ys,
affirms inclusion without denying exclusion. The same consid
erations of convenience have dictated the form — Some Xs are
not Ys, which affirms exclusion without denying inclusion.
These four forms of propositions have been named as follows:

(1) All Xs are Ys is called a Universal Affirmative Pro
position.

(2) No Xs are Ys is called a Universal Negative Proposition.

(3) Some Xs are Ys is called a Particular Affirmative Pro
position.

(4) Some Xs are not Ys is called a Particular Negative
Proposition.

And in one or more of these forms it is possible to express
any or all expectations, personal or impersonal. Particular
propositions frequently occur with such words as most, many,
a few, a very few in place of the word some, thus designat
ing more or less closely how large a proportion of the class
denominated by the subject is referred to, and De Morgan has
considered propositions of this character in his discussion of
the numerically definite syllogism.

To exemplify the four different classes of propositions per
haps we cannot do better than to employ the diagrams first
used by Euler in illustrating the method by which the different
forms of propositions express inclusion and exclusion. (See
Fig. 1.) The diagrams will explain themselves. The letters
in brackets are those which it is customary to use in place of
the names of the various propositions. Thus A is merely a
short way of saying Universal Affirmative proposition, E a short
way of saying Universal Negative proposition, etc. The ex
amples are as follows:

(1) Universal Affirmative. (A) All men are mammals.

(2) Particular Affirmative. (I) Some trees are evergreens.

(3) Universal Negative. (E) No men are immortal beings.

(4) Particular Negative. (0) Some coins are not silver objects.

CHAP. II]

TEUTH

39

/MAMMAL$

Fig. I.

In order to remove all doubt, I have in the case of proposi
tions I and 0 shaded those portions of the diagram which
represent the conjunctions predicated by the corresponding
propositions. Thus I affirms that a portion at least of the
class trees is identical with a portion at least of the class ever
greens • and 0 affirms that a portion at least of the class coins
is identical with a portion at least of the class not silver objects.

A term is said to be distributed when it refers to all
members of a class; undistributed when it refers to some of the
members only. In the diagrams I have enclosed the undis
tributed terms in dotted lines and by reference to them the
following table, showing in which forms of proposition the

40 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [Booii I

subject or predicate is distributed and in which undistributed,
may be verified.

Subject Predicate

, 5 Affirmative A Distributed Undistributed

Universal |^egative E Distributed Distributed

(Affirmative I Undistributed Undistributed
Particular |Negative 0 Undistributed Distributed

It may appear obscure why 0 distributes its predicate, but
if we remember that the proposition — Some As are not Bs,
may equally well be expressed by the proposition — Some As
are not any or all Bs, we see that the predicate refers to
the whole class of Bs.

Perhaps a few words ought to be said about three kinds of
categorical propositions which might, when encountered, be
considered different from any I have mentioned.

(1) Identical propositions, such as — A is A, or — A is B,
when B is a synonym of A, would be represented by a diagram
consisting of one circle, since as the subject and predicate are
identical the circles representing them would coincide. Such
propositions express complete conjunction.

(2) Singular propositions, such as — Agamemnon was a
Greek, in which a singular term is the subject are special cases
of universal affirmative propositions. A singular term is only
the limiting case of a general term, and in a singular proposi
tion the subject may be said to be distributed, since it refers
to the whole class, consisting to be sure of but one object.

(3) Definitions are expressed in the form of categorical pro
positions. They are in fact identical propositions, but give us
information about words only. They are not therefore the
less important, for without the knowledge expressed by them,
we could neither think clearly on any but the simplest sub
jects, nor could we communicate thought.

Precisely the same expectations as are expressed in proposi
tions of strict categoric form may be expressed in other forms.
For instance, the proposition — Some metals are not combusti
ble substances, would usually be expressed in the form — Some
metals are not combustible — the word substances being un
derstood, but although expectations may be expressed in various
forms, all of them may be reduced to some one of the four
mentioned.

Euler's diagrams enable us to see how well adapted the form
of expression embodied in a proposition is to stand as a symbol

CHAP. II] TRUTH 41

for an expectation. If X represents the assemblage of quali
ties implied in the definition of the subject, Y the assemblage
of qualities implied in the definition of the predicate, then a
proposition of form A conveys the knowledge that whenever X
is encountered, Y is to be expected; form I, that sometimes
when X is encountered Y is to be expected ; form E that when
ever X is encountered Y is not to be expected; form 0 that
sometimes when X is encountered, Y is not to be expected.
Hence to have the knowledge implied in any of these proposi
tions means that we are able to prophesy one quality or set
of qualities from another, to tell from qualities observed what
other qualities may be observed ; in other words to foresee, and
foresight is the immediate object of knowledge. Thus by the
proposition — All ice is cold, we should be led to expect the
experience of cold should we touch an object having qualities
of colorlessness, transparency, polish, etc., characteristic of ice,
and similarly with the qualities implied by the terms men
and mammals, or trees and evergreens, occurring in the exam
ples recently given.

Now it is an observation familiar to all that expectations are
sometimes fulfilled or realized, and sometimes are not. How
should we designate a being whose expectations were always
fulfilled : whose every expectation as to what is to be, or what
might have been, experienced at any time or place, is, or would
be, verified? Should we not call such a being omniscient, or
all-knowing? If so, then a being whose expectations are such
as always to be verified is one possessed of all knowledge —
at least, concerning the things of which he entertains expecta
tions. But suppose we expect a series of events A, B, C, D,
and also expect a series of events E, F, G, H, and suppose the
events A, B, C, D, occur, but E, F, G, H, do not. Would it
not be said, in general, that of the events A, B, C, D, we had
knowledge, but of the events E, F, G, H, we thought we had
knowledge, but did not have it? If so, then knowledge would
seem to consist of a certain kind of expectation, viz. of any
expectation which will be, or would have been, fulfilled.

It is obviously of the utmost importance to our inquiry —
as indeed it is to all inquiries — that we should understand the
nature of knowledge and be able, if possible, to distinguish
knowledge from that which is not knowledge but appears to be ;
for it is unnecessary to suggest that our conduct is at least
largely, and as we hope to show, ought to be wholly, guided by
our knowledge of its consequences. Is there then any means

42 THE PEINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [Booii I

of testing expectations whereby those which will be fulfilled
may be distinguished from those which will not? Are there
any means of avoiding the latter class of expectations? If so
what are they? In other words, how are we to distinguish'
knowledge, from that which is not knowledge but appears to
be? If such a test is to be discovered it obviously must be
found by an examination of past experience, since this is all
that is open to our examination. That is, expectations may be
tested only by memories; we can have knowledge of the future
only from an examination of the past, and we shall in the
course of this chapter show how such an examination may
reveal the test which we seek.

Let us call expectations which will be fulfilled valid expecta
tions: Those which will not,- let us call invalid expectations —
the words valid and invalid applying also to the propositions
expressive of each kind respectively. The question asked in
the last paragraph may now be expressed thus: Is there any
way m which a valid expectation or proposition may be dis
tinguished from an invalid one?

m This query may be answered by saying that no infallible, or
invariably successful, method has thus far been found: but a
method which in the past has given excellent results, and is
likely to give them in the future has been discovered, and is
capable of formulation. This is known as the inductive or sci
entific method, and before we can sufficiently comprehend the
nature of truth, of which we are in search, it will be necessary to
understand its principles.

In order to do this, we must begin at the beginning and again

consider certain classes into which expectations may be divided

They may first be classified as (1) Those established by the in

ductive method. (2) Those not so established. Consideration

the first class will be postponed until the nature of the

ithod designated is revealed. Members of the second class are

known as intmtwns and may, for the purpose we have in view,

,vL, , « m tW° WayS' Flrst as f1) Universal intu^

itions or those common to all minds, and not functions of the
location m space or time of the individuals who experience them

~axtt

CHAP. II] TRUTH 43

tuitions, or those the contradictory of which are expectable or
capable of being conceived.

Now the scientific method postulates that all knowledge is
derived from two sources (1) Observation and (2) Universal
Intuition. The mental processes by which expectations are de
rived from these sources are known as inferences. Inferences
which conform to the rules of the inductive method are called
correct inferences and claim to lead to valid expectations or
knowledge. Correct inferences are distinguished from incor
rect by a class of experiences called reasons, citable in support of
the former, but not citable in support of the latter kind of in
ference. To reveal the nature of a reason for an inference, or
the expectation resulting therefrom, is the object of logic.

Correct inferences may be divided into two kinds: (1) Proc
esses for deriving valid expectations from observations. (2)
Processes for deriving one valid expectation from one or more
others. The first kind of inference is called induction, the
second deduction, and on the basis of this classification logic
is divided into inductive and deductive logic.

All knowledge is founded upon experience — observation
precedes expectation. Hence should we treat the subject of
logic in what might be called its natural order, we should con
sider first how expectations may be correctly derived from ob
servations. This, however, would not be the most readily com
prehensible method of treatment, so I shall first treat of the
modes whereby one expectation may correctly be derived from
others, that is, of deduction.

Deduction: Deduction is a mental process depending upon
the so-called LAWS OF THOUGHT, expressible as follows :

(1) The Law of Identity: Whatever is., is.

(2) The Law of Contradiction: Nothing can both be
and not be.

(3) The Law of Excluded Middle: Everything must
either be or not be.

Should the words in which are expressed the axioms, or self-
evident truths, of mathematics be sufficiently defined, it would
appear that they are special cases of the laws of thought, and
these laws have one common characteristic, viz., whoever denies
any of them contradicts himself. Hence we shall refer to these
laws as if they constituted one law, to which we shall give the
name — the LAW OR PRINCIPLE OF CONTRADICTION. It is a uni
versal ineradicable intuition. It is said to be certain. When
I experience the sensation of a red color, a sweet taste, or any

44 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

other sensation or perception, there can be no doubt that I
experience it. It is certain that any combination of qualities
3 always conjoined with itself; in other words, that what
is, is. Hence to say that a universal ineradicable intuition
is a certainty gives us no information about a universal
ineradicable intuition, but it does about the meaning of the
word certainty. As a contradiction is, so far as I know thn
only relation between perceptions which is universally unthink
able, I shall confine the meaning of the word certainty to the
laws of thought: in short, by a certainty I shall mean the

cS^^f^^^r^MSsi
^^y^^^^^SS^l

expression of an impossibility.

A certainty may be considered as a special case of an p*
pectatJon distinguished from all others by the fact that i
contradictory ,s not only unexpected, but Lexpectfble Cer
tainty is also called absolute truth. It is a specia case of truth
and as purely deductive inference deals with absolute truth
alone I shall prov.sionally identify truth with absolute truth

Although certainties are tenacious convictions of all men

•nc.nr.ll 4? J.T i • J J Van On S nnr>friri/->o

usually of a theological

*

At

Hnd ofan intuit the^thTt

CHAP. II] TBUTH 45

you have." The origin of local intuitions will be disclosed in
Chapter 6.

Deductive inference may be divided into (1) Immediate in
ference, (2) Mediate inference. Immediate inference may be
divided into (a) Inference by conversion, (b) Inference by
opposition. Mediate inference is accomplished by an operation
whose expression is called a syllogism, and hence may be called
syllogistic inference.

Inference by conversion: If we glance at the diagrams on
page 39 we shall see that besides expressing the proposition with
which each is associated they express equally well the following
propositions: No. 1 is equivalent to the proposition — Some
mammals are men. No. 2 is equivalent to the proposition —
Some evergreens are trees. No. 3 is equivalent to the proposi
tion — No immortal beings are men. No. 4 is equivalent to the
proposition — Some not silver objects are coins.

These are called the converse of the corresponding proposi
tions, the subjects and predicates being interchanged. _The
process is called conversion, and by its use we are able to infer
from the proposition — All men are mammals to the proposition
— Some mammals are men; from the proposition — Some trees
are evergreens to the proposition — Some evergreens are trees,
etc. ; or stating the matter in general terms, we may from a pro
position of the form A infer a converse proposition of the form
I ; from I we may infer the converse in the form I ; from E the
converse in the form E ; and from 0 the converse in the form
I. Now it may appear to the reader that the change ^from
Some trees are evergreens to Some evergreens are trees, is too
simple and obvious to be called an inference. The two proposi
tions appear to say the same thing. Even the change from
All men are mammals to Some mammals are men, though
not quite so simple, is hardly much of an inference, and
there has arisen some controversy as to whether these are really
inferences Indeed there has been considerable discussion
among logicians as to whether any of the processes of deductive
inference really pass from one truth to another; for, say the
critics the conclusion merely expresses what was already in
volved or implicitly contained in the premises. The discussion
apparently arises from the failure of logicians to sufficiently
define the words inference ml. truth. When it is once under
stood that a truth is merely a kind of expectation, and that
deductive inference is merely a process whereby one expecta
tion arouses or excites another, the controversy is seen to be an

46 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BooK I

idle one. Each person must decide for himself, and it would
be impossible for another to decide for him, whether the propo
sition — Some mammals are men does, or does not, arouse
expectations different from those aroused by the proposition -
All men are mammals. Now some men might say it did, and
some might say it did not. Hence to be on the safe side, all
correct changes of propositions which are, or might be, adapted
to arouse the appropriate expectations are called inferences.
Were it to be admitted that no new truth could be arrived at
by deductive inference because the conclusion is always in
volved in the premises, then it would have to be admitted that
the ponsasinorum, for example, is not a different truth from that
expressed by the axioms and definitions of plane geometry,
for this proposition is implied or involved in those axioms and
definitions; nevertheless it undoubtedly arouses expectations
not aroused by them, and hence is a new and different truth.
This matter will become clearer as we proceed.

Eeferring to the converted propositions on page 45, let us
attempt to deny them while affirming the propositions from
which they were derived by conversion.

To deny No. 1 we should have to affirm : No mammals are
men.

To deny No. 2 we should have to affirm: No evergreens are
trees.

To deny No. 3 we should have to affirm : Some immortal be
ings are men.

To deny No. 4 we should have to affirm : No not silver objects
are coins.

Let us now compare the diagrams of these denials with the
diagrams of the originals on page 39. (See Fig. 2.)

A glance at these contrasted diagrams shows that the proposi
tions which they respectively express are inconsistent with one
another: that in affirming them both we contradict ourselves.
To affirm that no mammals are men is to affirm that no men are
mammals, and to affirm this, and at the same time affirm that
all men are mammals, is to affirm that men are mammals and
not mammals, that what is, is not. This is a contradiction in
terms, and of course expresses nothing which it is possible to
expect. Of two contradictory propositions we cannot expect
both, though if they are not contradictions in terms we may
think we can, because of the confusion in meaning of the propo
sitions, and it is a common thing for persons to assert belief in
contradictions. Those, for instance, who assert the omniscience

CHAP. II]

TRUTH

and omnipotence of God while denying the doctrine of pre
destination do this. Every inconsistency is, in fact, an implicit
or explicit contradiction.

These considerations show that we are able from a given

Diagrams of the original prop- Diagrams of the denials of the cor-
ositions. responding converted propositions.

/'

f MAMMALS^

!/%s

1 TREES^EVERGREENS)
\ X /

( IMMORTAL]
I BEINGS I

I MAMMALS j

(EVERGREENS] f TREES )

Fig. 2.

proposition to derive other propositions, the denial of which in
volves the denial of the given proposition. This leads us to
the principle in accordance with which one expectation may be
derived or deduced from another, viz. : Any proposition A which
bears a relation to a proposition B, such that the denial of A

THE PBES-CIPLES OF COMMON SENSE Ros I
' ' -auction or proposition aeducfble

ion J rHich bears a relation to

7% -',P- **- *** '*»' '**

!"**«•«, IW* ^f a tpnifMt

,. />. d-c.. t* a dfdur*ionr or r>rrir**H
**''*' vr yijpof \i

*?:non: BT tee oosition of ro

te propositions — X-
are not mammals _ are
-~J i* I know the prono-itiV.n -

1"; --nd — N

r°P0?J'tJ|'-'I1« of the forms
an/^ t'fje JD

»•• « ' "

ft^T^ ^J*11 lD the,fo]Ioiri^ table, taken'
MS, o coarse, on,r to propositions havin

Jn

^ E J 0

If A be true fal /" L" J"5

If E be tmc fl^=l true fe!-%
'

bipeds. Can w^ n
than we can in

Bm s

,

*T W •:7»rwa

All mammals arc

// ^

All men arc mammals,

V(MEN )

Therefore

All men are vertebrates, V ( MEN ) /

X

The relation between the three. and the reason why the infer
ence is possible explains itself. If vertebratos include all mam
mals, and mammals all men, obviously vertebrates include all
men. In all cases in which the appropriate relation of in
clusion or exclusion between two classes by mean* of a thirv!
class can be established, inferences of this kind may bo drawn.
FiiT. 4 furnishes an example in which one of the premises is
particular.

4

50

THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [Boo* I

All metals are elements.

/ ELEMENTS \

METALS

{
\

/INCOM-

Some metals are incom
bustible substances.

Therefore

.Some incombustible sub
stances are elements.

Fig.4.

An inference of the character here illustrated, wherein two
propositions containing but three terms between them enable us
to draw an inference which could not be drawn from the prop
ositions separately is called a syllogism. The two propositions
from which the inference is made are known as the premises;
the proposition inferred from them is the conclusion. The
term common to the premises is called the middle term, and
through its mediation the inference is made possible. The pred
icate of the conclusion is called the major term, and its subject
the minor term. The middle or mediating term, of course,
never occurs in the conclusion. The premise containing the
ma.jor term is called the major premise — that containing the
minor term the minor premise.

A syllogism is evidently a deduction. To deny the conclusion
is equivalent to denying one of the premises. Hence to affirm
the premises and deny the conclusion involves a contradiction.
By combining the four forms of categorical propositions, A, I,
E, 0, two by two, in all possible variations, logicians have dis
covered that there are just nineteen different ways in which a
conclusion may be correctly inferred from two premises. To

CHAP. II] TRUTH 51

each of these ways a Latin name has been given and these names
may be found in any logic. They do not concern us here. It
has been discovered, however, that in all nineteen forms of
syllogism the premises and conclusion are so related to one an
other as to conform, to the following rules, as formulated by
Jevons :

1. Every syllogism has three and only three terms.

These terms are called the major term, the minor term, and
the middle term.

2. Every syllogism contains three, and only three propositions.
These propositions are called the major premise, the minor

premise, and the conclusion.

3. The middle term must be distributed once at least, and
must not be ambiguous.

4. No term must be distributed in the conclusion which was
not distributed in one of the premises.

5. From negative premises nothing can be inferred.

6. If one premise be negative, the conclusion must be nega
tive; and vice versa, to prove a negative conclusion, one of the
premises must be negative.

From the above rules may be deduced two subordinate rules,
which it will nevertheless be convenient to state at once.

7. From two particular premises no conclusion can be drawn.
S. If one premise be particular, the conclusion must be par
ticular.

These are called the Rules of the Syllogism. All correct syl
logisms obey them. Hence, if we find a conclusion related to its
premises in a manner which does not conform to these rules we
may know it is not a correct syllogism ; that it is not a correct
deduction, although it may appear to be one. In saying that a
syllogism which does not conform to the rules of the syllogism
is incorrect, no more information is conveyed about the charac
teristics of a syllogism than was conveyed about the laws of
thought by the assertion that they were certain. In other words,
we mean by a correct syllogism one which conforms to the rules
just given, and by a correct deduction one which conforms to
these rules OT those given for making immediate deductions.
Incorrect deductions are called fallacies, and as their many vari
eties are discussed in every book on logic I need not discuss
them here.

Letting this brief discussion of deduction suffice, let us con
sider the more complicated kind of inference known as induc
tion.

52 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [Boox I

Induction: In examining the nature of deduction we have
had occasion to point out how from one or more valid expecta
tions others might be derived, but the methods there discussed
did not suggest how an expectation was to be derived from some
thing not an expectation. The premises of any given deduction
may be the conclusions of former deductions, but if we trace
back such a series of deductions we must finally arrive at prop
ositions not established by deduction. How then can such
propositions be established ? Experience alone can establish
them, and it is of the mode by which experience establishes the
fundamental propositions which are the ultimate premises of all
deduction that inductive logic treats.

In the consideration of inductive logic, two methods of classi
fying experience will be useful :

First, experiences may be divided into (1) Personally observ
able experiences, which of necessity are confined to one person,
such as pleasure, pain, volition, etc. (2) Impersonally observ
able experiences or those which more than one person may ob
serve, such as result from the observation of the animate and
inanimate objects which surround us, and their movements.

Second, experiences may be divided into (a) Those involving
a perception of relation, (b) Those not involving a perception
of relation.

^ Of these two latter classes, the first only is capable of expres
sion in a proposition and experiences of this class are the
foundations of all knowledge. Logicians in treating of induc
tions generally confine their inquiries to experiences of phe
nomena, and in the discussion which follows I shall do likewise.
The application to non-phenomenal experiences will, however, be
sufficiently clear. The principles are the same for both.

Now all knowledge of phenomena is derived from experience
of phenomenal impressions. An impersonally observable rela
tion among phenomenal impressions I shall call a phenomenal
conjunction or, for brevity, simply a conjunction. In an assem
blage of _ conjunctions having one member in common, said
member is called the common member. The others are called
conjoined members. A conjunction having a beginning is called
an event. A conjunction not necessarily observed but expected
e observable, is called an observability. To predicate the
occurrence of a conjunction is to predicate its observability A
conjunction actually observed is called an observation and ob
servations are the foundation of all knowledge of phenom
ena. It is from this particular kind of experience that such

CHAP. II] TKUTH 53

knowledge arises. But here we meet a difficulty. It has been
asserted that observations of phenomena possess the quality of
impersonal observability. Can we be certain that such a quality
is always possessed by them ? To this question we must answer
No. It is impossible to assure ourselves beyond all doubt that
the things we observe about us are observable by others, or even
that experiences other than our own exist. No method has ever
been suggested, for example, whereby we may, with certainty,
distinguish between the impressions of a dream and those of
waking life. Purely imaginary impressions of phenomena such
as those observed in delirium are of no value in induction, be
cause they do not possess the quality of impersonal observability.
This quality is, in fact, assumed. It will appear later that such
an assumption is equivalent to assuming that th& phenomena
whose observation constitutes the basis of knowledge, exist; and
this ASSUMPTION or EXISTENCE may be called the First In
ductive Postulate. It is a universal intuition. Phenomenal
experiences which do not involve this assumption are called
pure observations.

Now a conjunction being an observable relation, must involve
one or more of the perceptions of relation enumerated on page 16,
viz., similarity, dissimilarity, co^existence or succession. In the
theory of knowledge the most important of these relations is the
first, for it is from the detection and classification of the simi
larities among the chaos of dissimilarities which constitute ex
perience that knowledge emerges. To perceive the relation of
similarity is to perceive one or more identical qualities in two
objects of experience, and Jevons, identifying science with
knowledge, remarks : " Science arises from the discovery of iden
tity amidst diversity/' Similarities of relation are observable
as well as similarities of other impressions. Thus we may ob
serve : (a) Similar similarities, (b) Similar dissimilarities, (c)
Similar co-existences, (d) Similar successions.

From the first two of these (a) and (b) our concepts of mag
nitude (including number) are derived. No detailed discussion
of this matter will be undertaken here, because it is already
sufficiently clear in the minds of most persons. From the sec
ond two (c) and (d) all other knowledge is derived. Of course
similarities of similarity and dissimilarity must co-exist with,
or succeed one another in the mind, and thus all conjunctions
may be classed either as of co-existence, or as of succession.
Let us see how similarities of co-existence or succession give

54 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BooK I

rise to valid expectations, that is to knowledge, and as an exam
ple let us examine a simple similarity of co-existence.

Suppose we observe a block of transparent material having a
vitreous lustre, and on touching it observe a sensation of cold
such as is imparted by ice. Were it our first experience with a
piece of ice the sensation of cold would be entirely unexpected.
Never before having observed a similar co-existence of qualities
we should have no expectation of observing it. Had we, on
the other hand, had experience with ice, the co-existence of
coldness, with the vitreous lustre and other sensible properties
of ice, would be expected, and upon observing the latter set of
qualities, we should expect the sensation of coldness which in
previous observations had co-existed with them. When we see
the sun shining we expect all objects to cast shadows ; when we
hear the wind roar in the trees we expect to see their branches
moving; when we perceive the odor of a rose we expect that
that flower is, or might be, observable in the vicinity; when we
drop a coin on a hard object we expect to hear it ring; and we
might enumerate any number of similar relations between ob
servation and expectation, all alike having arisen from previous
experience of the appropriate similarities of co-existence or suc
cession, some of narrow and some of wide application.

The reader may notice that should we observe the conjunction
between the other sensible properties of ice and its coldness even
once, we should thereafter expect (in some degree) a similar con
junction; and he may deem that such a fact contravenes our
assertion; for one observation of a co-existence can give rise to
no perception of similarity of co-existence. Instead of contra
vening our assertion this objection confirms it since, on exam
ination, the expectation generated by one observed conjunction
is seen to depend upon a principle of very wide applicability
which is itself founded upon observations of similarity. It has
been observed in a vast number of cases that where a particular
conjunction between certain qualities is observed once, that a
similar conjunction will be observed many times or perhaps
always : hence where a new conjunction of a more or less similar
kind is observed once, we expect it to be observed again, since
this is a generic character of such conjunctions. Had this
principle not itself been established by observation, a single con
junction of the character specified would establish no- expecta
tion.

Now what assumption, if any, is involved in the expectations
we have cited? Why is it that when a conjunction has been

CHAP. II] TKUTH 55

one or more times observed, the observation of one member of
the conjunction will generate an expectation that the other mem
ber is observable? The fact is, no reason can be given why
expectations thus generated should be fulfilled. We simply dis
cover that they are, or are likely to be. The assumption com
mon to all expectations of this character is a universal one, and
I shall call it the Second Inductive Postulate. It is denom
inated the PRINCIPLE OF THE UNIFORMITY OF NATURE — an
assumption that the unobserved will resemble the observed; that
unobserved observabilities will be similar to observed observa
bilities. By the aid of this universal intuition observations
made at one place and time may give rise to valid expectations
about other places and times, and it is, in fact, postulated, con
sciously or unconsciously, in practically every deliberate act of
men and animals. We do not reach out our hand to take up
our hat, we do not turn our head in order to look at something,
we do not draw a chair to the table, we do not perform a single
act of dressing, eating, walking, or indeed any act which is not
automatic, without assuming the uniformity of nature. The
act is controlled by our expectation of its consequences, and a
consequence implies a previously observed similarity or uniform
ity of succession; though to be sure in some very familiar acts
like those of walking, or reading, the appropriate movements of
the legs or the eyes have been performed so often as to have
become in part automatic. Now why is the uniformity of na
ture so universally postulated? Apparently because it^ is so
uniformly observed. In the case of the observation of ice al
ready cited, the uniform association of transparency, etc., with
the feeling of cold led to an expectation of uniformity of co
existence, and uniformities of succession similarly generate ex
pectations of succession. Botli are acquired from experience
and from experience only. Beings who have had no experience
perform few. if any, deliberate acts, and the acts performed are
so similar as to lead many persons to class them as automatic or in
stinctive, rather than deliberate. Thus young mammals perform
complicated movements in the act of suckling, and newly hatched
chickens will eat meal without any previous experience, but these
inexperienced beings never can perform any other acts than those
which any of their fellows can perform, and moreover the acts
performable are always related to their necessities in such a
manner as to lead to the belief that nature has built into their
nervous structure substitutes for expectation which cause them
to perform these acts as automatically in response to the appro-

56 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

priate stimulus, as the acts of the heart are performed in re
sponse to an increase of muscular exertion.

With the possible exception of the act of suckling then., newly
born infants perform no deliberate acts. Their crying even is
automatic, and the spasmodic movements of their arms and legs
are utterly aimless. Indeed, even after they have had enough
experience to know the use of their hands their judgment is so
defective that they will attempt to grasp the moon with the same
apparent expectation of success as that with which they attempt
to grasp a rattle within reach. It is only by continued experi
ence that they gradually learn to distinguish valid from invalid
expectations, and to the end of their lives they never learn to
perfectly distinguish between them. Similarly were a person
who from birth had been without the sense of smell suddenly
endowed with it he would not from the odor of a rose be led
to any expectation of its visible presence. .Should a person
deaf from birth have his hearing restored he would not on hear
ing laughter infer mirth. Should a person blind from birth gain
his sight, he would as deliberately walk against a tree or a wall
as a blind man. He would observe the tree, but the visible im
pression would generate no expectation and hence would not
influence his acts; in the absence of experience the visible im
pression would not be associated with the tangible impressions
which he would receive on colliding with the tree. After a few
such encounters, however, the expectation would be generated,
and when his experience had enabled him to distinguish solid
objects he would avoid such encounters as experience indicated
were harmful.

It is sometimes assumed that the principle of the uniformity
of nature is deducible from another one called the law of cau
sation.. Let us examine this important law and incidentally test
the validity of the assumption.

At any particular time or place the external universe is in
some particular condition ; the objects of nature have a partic
ular distribution; the material world a definite configuration; the
possible sensible observabilities are determinate; all phenomena
are particular phenomena. A phenomenal condition is simply
an observable phenomenon. The internal world is similarly
definite: non-phenomenal experience may be of one kind or
another, but it is of some definite, particular, kind at every
moment in the life of every being. A mental condition is sim
ply an observed non-phenomenon. The term condition refers
to either a phenomenal or non-phenomenal condition.

CHAP. II] TKUTH 57

By the total cause of an event I mean a combination of con
ditions in the concurrence of which the event will occur, but in
the absence of any of which the event will not occur. Mill's
definition of a cause is very similar to that here given of a total
cause. It is as follows :

" The cause, then, philosophically speaking, is the sum total
of the conditions positive and negative taken together ; the whole
of the contingencies of every description, which being realized,
the consequent invariably follows." x

By a cause of an event I shall mean any condition among
those constituting a total cause. By the cause I shall mean
some conspicuous cause, or one which it is useful to locate or
consider. The effect is simply the event which invariably fol
lows the concurrence of the conditions constituting a total cause.

The law of causation asserts (1) That the same total cause
is always followed by the same effect or event. (2) That every
event is preceded by* a total cause. Hence the relation between
the two, and consequently between a cause and its effect is
independent of time.

Metaphysicians divide causes into two classes, efficient and
sensible causes. That to which we here refer is the sensible
cause — what Minto calls " The perceptible antecedent of a
perceptible consequent." Efficient causes will be discussed
later.

The first half of the law of causation may be expressed thus :
Let T represent the location in time of an event X, and let A,
B, C, D, E, &c., be the conditions under which X has occurred,
but in the absence of any of which, and of any other total cause,
it would not have occurred ; then the concurrence of A, B, C, D,
E, &c., is a total cause of X, and the law of causation asserts
that if at some other time T, the conditions A, B, C, D, E, &c.,
again concur, that X will occur also, that is, that the relation
between a total cause A, B, C, D, E, &c., and its effect is inde
pendent of their location in time ; provided, of course, that which
is referred to as the event does not include some particular
location in time in its meaning.

Although the law of causation asserts that the concurrence of
conditions constituting a total cause is invariably followed by
the same effect or effects, it does not assert that the same effect
may not be preceded by more than one total cause. Most, if not

i System of Logic, p. 217,

58 THE PEINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

all, events may be caused in more than one way. Thus we may
cause a billiard ball to move either by striking it with some
solid object, by directing a blast of air against it, by tipping the
table upon which it rests, and other ways might be suggested.
Of course, many of the conditions constituting these various
causes are the same, and in assuming that an event may be
caused, there is always a certain class of conditions or combina
tion of conditions which are assumed absent, those namely,
which are causes of the absence of the event; that is, we assume
the absence of counter-acting causes. Thus in our assumption
that a billiard ball could be moved in the modes suggested we
assumed, among other things, that the ball was not attached
to the table by some means or other.

The sum of the conditions with which an event is actually
associated, and in the absence of any of which, and of all other
total causes, it would not have occurred, I shall call the actual
total cause. The sum of those with which it might have been
associated, and in the absence of any of which, and of all other
total causes, it would not have occurred, I shall call a possible
total cause. An actual total cause is thus, of course, always a
possible total cause. Corresponding to actual and possible total
causes there are actual and possible causes. This distinction is
so familiar as to require no exemplification.

The second part of the law of causation may then be stated
thus: Let X be any event, and let A, B, C, D, E, &c., F,
G, H, I, J, &c., K, L, M, N, 0, &c., . . . represent all of
its possible total causes. Then, whenever X occurs, some one
of said possible total causes has preceded it. This is merely to
assert that any, and therefore every, event has some total cause
We shall generally speak. of the relation between a possible
cause and its effect as the relation between cause and effect
Thus not only is it true that the same effect may have many
causes but it is equally true that the same cause may have many
effects. In fact, any and every event to be observed or experi
enced is an effect. Hence every cause which has a beginning is
itself an effect, and every effect may be a cause. Every event
'occurring in the present is an effect of a long series of causes —
the occurrences of to-day are but effects of causes set in opera-
:ion centuries ago, and those in turn of previous causes — the
aidless chain of causation emerging from an impenetrable past,
is lost in an impenetrable future.

From this explanation of the law of causation it is evident
that those who contend that the principle of the uniformity of

CHAP. II] TKUTH 59

nature is deducible from it, claim in effect that all conjunctions
are events, for an event must be something which has a begin
ning. Without stopping to examine the argument of Mill that
there are many uniformities of co-existence independent of
causation, one example of such a uniformity may be mentioned
which would seem to nullify this claim. According to the law
of the conservation of matter, matter can neither be created
nor destroyed. Now in material bodies the properties of inertia
and gravity are invariably conjoined. Hence if we accept the
law mentioned we have here a uniformity which, having had no
beginning, could have had no cause. But without dwelling
upon this example it would appear from an examination of our
own minds that the idea of nature's uniformity does not spring
from, that of causation, but that, on the contrary, the idea of
causation arises from the observed uniformity of nature. In
fact, the notion has doubtless been suggested by the observation
of similarities of succession, the antecedent member being called
a cause, the consequent member an effect. .Such is the view of
Hume, who says:

"'Tis therefore by EXPERIENCE only, that we can infer the
existence of one object from that of another. The nature of
experience is this. We remember to have had frequent instances
of the existence of one species of objects; and also remember,
that the individuals of another species of objects have always
attended them, and have existed in a regular order of contiguity
and succession with regard to them. Thus we remember to have
seen that species of object we call flame, and to have felt that
species of sensation we call heat. We likewise call to mind their
constant conjunction in all past instances. Without any farther
ceremony, we call the one cause and the other effect, and infer
the existence of the one from the other. In all those instances,
from which we learn the conjunction of particular causes and
effects, both the causes arid effects have been perceived by the
senses, and are remembered: But in all cases, wherein we reason
concerning them, there is only one perceived or remembered, and
the other is supplied in conformity to our past experience.

" Thus in advancing we have insensibly discovered a new rela
tion betwixt cause and effect. . . . This relation is their
CONSTANT CONJUNCTION. Contiguity and succession are not suf
ficient to make us pronounce any two objects to be cause and
effect, unless we perceive, that these two relations are preserved
in several instances." *

i A Treatise of Human Nature ; David Hume, Book I, p. 87. Claren
don Press, Oxford, 1896,

60 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BooK I

We shall presently seek to demonstrate that the contention of
Hume here quoted has not, as some persons apparently believe,
been invalidated through the invention of efficient causes by
confused metaphysicians.

The law that unsupported bodies fall toward the earth does
not receive universal acceptance by authority of the law of
causation. Ignorant savages and even animals accept it. It is
a uniformity observed and therefore expected, and should a
cause for such occurrences be discovered to-morrow it would
not materially increase our conviction that unsupported bodies
will fall toward the earth. Many other instances might be
cited which prove that laws involving causation stand on pre
cisely the same ground as other empirical laws.

Uniformities of causation ure special cases of the uniformity
of nature. The law of universal causation is, in fact, the most
comprehensive and important of empirical laws, and like other
products of induction it does not attain to certainty: it is by
no means universally accepted; indeed those who hold to the
doctrine of free will reject it, and they include some of the best
minds of the age. Nevertheless, examination of our own minds
and of the acts of others makes it obvious that though some
times rejected in theory, it is universally postulated in practice
and that in all the familiar affairs of life it constitutes a ffiiide
to expectation and conduct.

Accepting the law of causation, we may expect to find expe
riences varying together in such a manner that we may distin
guish such as are causally related from such as are not. Hence
in general, it may be said that when things are observed to vary
together and persist in so doing that the relation is either that
between cause and effect, or that between effects of the same
cause, for many uniformities of co-existence are inferrible from
uniformities of succession, though all are not. The methods
commonly used in distinguishing between events which are re-

Ir 11 .TSilly an,d th°Se whicl1 aro not havc hwn condensed bv
Mill into five rules or guides to observation, known as Canons
of Induction, On page 57 I have given Mill's definition of a
'of Til ™ therefore be best to give the canons in the words
o± Mill. They are as follows :
(1) The Method of Agreement.

"If two or more instances of the phenomenon under investiga
tion have only one circumstance in common, the circumstance

CHAP. II] TRUTH 61

in which alone all the instances agree is the cause (or effect) of
the given phenomenon."

(2) The Method of Difference.

"If an instance in which the phenomenon under investigation
occurs, and an instance in which it does not occur, have every
circumstance in common save one, that one occurring only in
the former; the circumstance in which ^ alone the two instances
differ is the effect, or the cause, or an indispensable part of the
cause, of the phenomenon."

(3) The Joint Method of Agreement and Difference.

"If two or more instances in which the phenomenon occurs
have only one circumstance in common, while two or more
instances in which it does not occur, have nothing in^common
save the absence of the circumstance, the circumstance in which
alone the two sets of instances differ is the effect, or the^ cause,
or an indispensable part of the cause, of the phenomenon."

(4) The Method of Eesidues.

" Subduct from any phenomenon such part as is known by
previous inductions to be the effect of certain antecedents, and
the residue of the phenomenon is the effect of the remaining
antecedents."

(5) The Method of Concomitant Variations.

" Whatever phenomenon varies in any manner wh?never another
phenomenon varies in some particular manner, is either a cause
or an effect of that phenomenon, or is connected with it through
some fact of causation."

Such phenomena as appear to vary quite independently of one
another are, on the other hand, probably not causally related, or
at any rate only remotely so. Mill gives numerous illustrations
of the use of his canons, but it would occupy too much space to
enumerate them here, and many examples will occur to the
reader. The first two canons are those in most use. They are
the ones by which the thousand and one uniformities whereby
our daily acts are guided have, in the main, been discovered.
Mill only mentions causal relations between phenomena, but
they may as easily be traced among non-phenomena. In trains
of thought wherein one idea suggests another, uniformities may

62 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BooK I

be observed which, tested by the rules embodied in Mill's can
ons, will be found to be those of cause and effect. Indeed the
most conspicuous and important of causes, viz. volition, and
the most conspicuous and important of effects, viz. pleasure and
pain, are non-phenomenal.

So far our expression of the postulate of the uniformity of
nature has been indefinite. It assumes that the unobserved
will resemble the observed, but does not make clear how close
the resemblance will be. Let us examine this question.

It has been remarked that should we on some given occasion
observe a transparent object that looked like ice and remem
ber that on former occasions such an object had always felt
cold to the touch, we should expect it to be cold to the touch
on the given occasion. That is, by the reiterated experience of
the conjunction of two qualities A and B such that when A is
experienced, B always is, an expectation of B arises whenever
A is observed. Suppose, however, that on some occasion, we
should touch a transparent object inferred to be ice, and fail to
find it cold, but on touching a piece of it to our tongue should
perceive a saline taste, such as rock salt imparts. What effect
would such an experience have on our expectation next time we
perceived a transparent object that looked like ice? Should we
expect the absence of cold and the presence of a saline taste, or
the absence of a saline taste and the presence of cold? If
asked whether our expectation of cold was the same as before,
we doubtless would reply that it was not, but was less than be
fore. If asked whether our expectation of a saline taste was
the same as before, we would reply that it was greater, since
before experiencing the taste conjoined with the transparent
object resembling ice, we had no expectation of it at all. Such
replies clearly imply that expectation may vary in degree —
may be greater or less. In other words, if we call the degree of
expectation of cold a and the degree of expectation of a saline
taste It, then a and b are two magnitudes capable of varying,
and as we have seen they will vary with a variation in remem
bered experience.

Sometimes when we say we expect a certain experience we
mean that we expect it in a greater degree than we expect its
absence. This is obviously not the meaning in which we have
just employed the term, since, on observing a transparent object
we expect both a sensation of cold and a saline taste. Now we do
not expect both in conjunction, and clearly we cannot expect
the former more than the latter, and at the same time the latter

CHAP. II] TRUTH 63

more than the former. Hence our degrees of expectation either
must be equal or one must be greater than the other. The ex
perience of such co-existent expectations — sometimes of a great
number of them — is familiar to everyone. They are often
called probabilities, and admit of an indefinite number of de
grees, but as we shall presently point out, degree of expecta
tion and degree of probability may or may not refer to the same
quantity. On page 41 it has been noted that knowledge is but a
name for valid expectation. De Morgan says : " It may seem
strange to treat knowledge as a magnitude in the same manner
as length, or weight, or surface. This is what all writers do
who treat of probability, and what all their readers have done long
before they ever saw a book on the subject." Had De Morgan
but asked' himself what he meant by knowledge he would not
have found it strange that it was a variable magnitude like
length, or weight, or surface, for expectation is thus obviously
variable. Again he says "By degree of probability we really
mean, or ought to mean, degree of belief." And Huxley says
" To have an expectation of a given event and to believe that it
will happen are only two modes of stating the same fact."

Now unless De Morgan and Huxley are far astray in these
assertions there is some important relation between probabilities,
beliefs and expectations; hence unless we desire confusion in
thought, we must distinguish clearly the meanings of these and
other common terms, and if usage supplies none, we are at
liberty to supply them ourselves, on the principle that verbal
derelicts on the ocean of obscurity are at the service of him who
first brings them into the port of intelligibility.

The term expectation has already been exemplified. By
probability, or presumption, is meant the measure of an ex
pectation's validity, its chance or frequency of fulfilment in the
long run, and as this varies in degree, it is capable of numerical
expression. Usage, however, has with such persistence ex
tended the meaning of the term probability to designate propo
sitions of higher degrees of validity that it would be impracti
cal to attempt the suppression of the term's equivocality. It
need not, however, mislead us if we are careful that the context
shall reveal which meaning is intended. Probability being the
measure of an expectation's validity is clearly something of
importance, and the formulation of a convenient method of
expressing it is next required.

A certainty, as we have already explained, is something we
cannot do otherwise than expect; an impossibility we cannot

64 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BooK I

do otherwise than not expect. Hence the probability of the
former may be deemed a maximum ; of the latter a minimum.
To represent degree of probability therefore, suppose we call
the maximum probability 1 and the minimum 0. Then all
other probabilities must lie between these two ; i. e., they must
be represented by common fractions. It is obvious that expec
tations themselves may be represented in a similar manner by
means of fractions, and the deviation of the degree of an ex
pectation from the degree of its probability, is a measure of its
invalidity.

By a belief I shall mean an expectation greater than one-
half; by a rational or valid belief I shall mean an expecta
tion having a probability greater than one-half. To probabili
ties greater than one-half and to the propositions expressive
thereof, I shall apply the term truth.

Now we are all interested in ascertaining what propositions
are true and what are not — we desire a guide to expecta
tion, such that we may acquire expectations which will, at
least generally, be fulfilled, and may avoid acquiring those
which will not, for obviously we should then have a convenient
guide to conduct. In order to see how such a guide is obtain
able and in what degree it is a safe one, let us consider some
simple cases, which will incidentally bring out more clearly
the nature of a probability.

Direct, or Deductive Probability: Any given conjunction
must either occur or it must not ; i. e., the probability of its oc
curring added to that of its not occurring is a certainty. Hence
if the probability of a given conjunction occurring is two-thirds,
the probability of its not occurring must be one-third, so that
f + ^=l, or in general, if the probability of a conjunction
occurring is a, the probability of its not occurring is 1 - a.
This theorem which is deducible directly from the law of con
tradiction may receive more general expression thus : The
probability of the occurrence of at least one among several mu~
tually exclusive conjunctions is the sum of the probabilities of
the conjunctions.

yTwo or more conjunctions are said to be independent when
the occurrence or non-occurrence of any one does not affect
the probability of the occurrence of any of the others. Other
wise they are dependent. Dependent conjunctions aro always
causally related, though the relation may be a remote one. Thus
the fact that a coin, known to be of normal construction, has

CHAP. II] TEUTH 65

fallen heads, once, twice, thrice, or any number of times in suc
cession, does not affect the probability that it will fall heads
the next time, since the first events cannot causally affect the
last one; the events are indeed independent; but if we are told
by one who has means of knowledge that the coin is a loaded
one the event of being thus told will increase the probability
that the next fall will be heads, because we infer that a causal
relation between the structure of the coin and the information
o± our informant exists. Such events are dependent.

f nfi,WeJtOSS Up an Ordinar7 coin, our expectation that it will
fall heads is no greater and no less than that it will fall tails
and this equality of expectation has been generated by a process
hereafter to be discussed from previous observation of the be
havior of symmetrical objects under the influence of gravity
The probability of throwing heads and of throwing tails is in
tact one-half, since the coin must fall either one or the other
i.e., the sum of the probabilities must be 1, and no reason why it
should tall heads rather than tails or vice versa can be adduced
Let us next inquire what the probability is that a coin will fall
heads (or tails) twice in succession. To discover this we first
ascertain m how many different ways it would be possible for it

L i^T!rSf7aylar: (1) first toss> heads> second ^s,
heads (2) first toss, tails, second toss, tails, (3) first toss heads

second toss, tails, (4) first toss, tails, second toss, heads; and
no reason is known why any one of these combinations is not
as likely as any other. Of these four different ways only one
would give heads twice in succession, while three would not
Ihe probability of any one being equal to the probability of any
other, and the sum of the probabilities being equal to 1 we
are required to find that fraction which multiplied by four 'will
give one. This fraction is ± : hence 1 is the probability that
any one of the four possible combinations will occur; hence it is
the probability that heads will fall twice in succession It is
obvious that this reasoning can be applied to any number of
equally probable independent conjunctions; that is, if it is ad
mitted that out of a given number q of equally probable inde
pendent conjunctions, there are p ways in which a specified
Conjunction x may occur, the probability of the occurrence of

x is - ; or the theorem may be stated thus : // a conjunction
may occur in m ways and fail in n ways, and all these ways are
equally probable, the probability of the conjunction is

m
m + n

66 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

In order to obtain a useful corollary from this theorem let
us assume two independent conjunctions, A and B to have the

a. c

probabilities -r- and -|- respectively. What is the probability

that both will occur? Now if b is the possible number of inde
pendent conjunctions (all equally probable) among which A can
occur, and d the possible number among which B can occur,
then it is clear that in combination with any single conjunction
among those represented by b, every single conjunction among
those represented by d can occur; and hence with each of
the b conjunctions, all of the d conjunctions can occur, so
that the possible number of the combinations of conjunctions is
bxd. The same reasoning shows that the possible number of
the conjunctions of A and B is axe. Hence the probability

o v p

of the compound conjunction A B is , - =• . For example,

if we consider three independent and equally probable events,
m, n, o, and also three other independent and equally probable
events, p, q, r, it is clear that the possible conjunctions of events
(by twos) is nine, as follows: mp, mq, mr, iip, nq, nr, op, oq,
or, or 3x3 = 9. Now if but one event among the first group
m, n, o, can occur, the probability that it be in is £ (simi
larly for n or o) and under the same conditions the proba
bility of p (or q or r) is .>. Examining the nine possible
conjunctions we see that there is only one between m and p.
Hence the probability that the conjunction mp will occur is -J
or ^x^. The same reasoning would permit us to establish
the same results concerning the probability of any number of
given events or conjunctions. Hence the corollary mav be
expressed thus: The probability of the conjunction of any
number of independent conjunctions is the product of their
separate probabilities. Thus the probability that in tossino- up
a coin, heads will fall three times in succession is, by this
rule,-!, or ten times in succession is

The above theorem may readily be extended to include de
pendent conjunctions, for if a, b,' c, d, e, CYC., are a series of
injunctions, b depending upon the occurrence of a, c upon the
occurrence of b, etc., then the probability that b will occur is
the probability that a having occurred b will occur; the prob
ability that c will occur is the probability that a and b having
both occurred c will occur, &c. ; hence: If p, be the probability
that a conjunction a trill occur, and when it has occurred pa

CHAP. II] TRUTH tf

is the probability that b will occur, and when a and b have
occurred, p3 is the probability that c will occur, &c., the
probability that all will occur is pt xp2x p3, &c. An example
of the application of this theorem is given on page 71.

One of the methods commonly used to exemplify the theory
of probabilities is that of a mixture of different colored balls in
a ballot box. If such a box contains A white balls, B black
balls, C red balls, &c., it is obvious from what has been said,
that the probability of drawing a white ball is, in general,

A + Bfc + &c.; of drawing a blaek bal1 is ATBTcT&I ' and so

on. Of this convenient analogy we shall presently make use.

The preceding discussion of direct probabilities, showing
modes whereby we may proceed from one probability to another,
has purposely been made brief, because it is to be found more
fully expanded in any elementary work on probabilities and a
multiplication of derivative propositions here would be super
fluous. The theorems established will be sufficient for the
purpose we have in view — the discovery of how degree of prob
ability depends upon observation, a subject we are now pre
pared to discuss.

Inverse, or Inductive Probability: It has already been re
marked that when a conjunction between phenomena is observed,
an expectation is generated that the conjunction will be observ
able again. When a transparent block is observed to be cold,
even once, it generates an expectation that the properties so
conjoined will be conjoined again. When the conjunction is
observed twice, three times, ten times, one thousand times, etc.,
without ever failing, the expectation is correspondingly strength
ened. When the conjunction is observed to fail once, twice,
three times, ten times, or a thousand times, it diminishes the
expectation correspondingly. If out of one hundred times in
which a transparent block had been observed, we had found that
in eighty cases it had turned out to be ice, and in twenty rock
salt, what would be the probability that the next time we saw a
transparent block it would be ice or rock salt ? How would the
relative frequency of observation affect expectation ?

Let us first state the problem generally and then supply a
general answer. The problem is: From a knowledge of the
relative frequency with which a series of conjunctions of phe
nomena having a common member have been observed, to deter
mine the probability that the next conjunction will or will not
be a particular one. If the conjunctions have been as follows:

68 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [Boon I

A B — nij times ; A C — m2 times ; A D — m3 times ; A E —
m4 times; &c., what is the chance that A will be conjoined
(simultaneously or successively) with B, C, D,, E, &c., respec
tively, next time it is observed? If we compare the conjoined
members B, C, D, E, &c., to different colored balls (say B a
white ball, C a black one, D a red one, and E a green one) and
the common member A, to the operation of drawing a ball from
a ballot box, we are then in the position of a person who, stand
ing before a ballot box of infinite capacity and unknown con
tents draws mx white balls, m2 black ones, m3 red ones, and m4
green ones from it, and is required from these drawings to judge
of the character of the next one. Nature offers to man just
such a ballot box of infinite capacity and (antecedent to expe
rience) unknown contents, and his knowledge of its contents
and of the character of future drawings is based on the char
acter and relative frequency of past drawings. By the analysis
of how our common sense proceeds, we may see how the postu
late of the uniformity of nature permits us to form judgments.
When the contents of the ballot box is known, it is easy from
theorems already established to calculate the probability of
drawing any particular ball or combination of balls. We have
now the inverse problem. From the character of the balls
drawn, we have to infer the probable character of the contents
of the ballot box, and from this to deduce the probable character
of the next draw. Let us make a provisional assumption, viz.
that the sample drawn is a fair sample of the contents of the
box, that is, that the ratio of the white, black, red or green
balls in the box to the total number of balls therein is the same
as that among the balls drawn. If this assumption is a correct
one, the character of the contents of the box is at once revealed
by the drawings, since it is this ratio, together with the color
of the various balls, which we mean by "the character of the
contents." If m,, m2, m,, and m4 are the number of white
black, red and green balls respectively drawn, then from
page 65, the probability of drawing a white ball next time is

TY1

ml JJ
; of a

i ., <

with the rest. With the assumption we have made it is easy
the character of the contents of the box and the
probability of the next draw; but what authority, if any, hare
we tor the assumption? Suppose for a moment that we are
drawing ^ from a finite ballot box, containing, let us say, fifty
white, ninety black, one hundred and thirty red, and two him-

CHAP. II] TRUTH 69

dred and twenty green balls. Then the smallest number of
drawings which can yield a fair sample will be forty-nine; five
white., nine black, thirteen red, and twenty-two green. It is
obvious then., that in a box in which the balls are varied and
numerous, a small number of drawings cannot give us a fail-
sample. If the balls are well mixed, however, it is equally
obvious that a large number of drawings will give a sample
which differs only in a slight degree from a fair sample, and
indeed, when we assert the probability under given conditions
of a given conjunction to be P, we simply assert that if the
conditions recur some large number of times R, that the given
conjunction will, on the average, occur about P x R times.

From the illustration last cited we see that the assumption
that a given finite sample drawn from a ballot box is a fair
sample is not necessarily the most probable assumption. Laplace
by mathematical methods which I shall make no attempt to
explain here, has shown what the most probable assumption
is.1 The results of his investigations may be given as follows:

If the common member (A) of a conjunction has been observed
conjoined with the member B nij times, the member C m2 times,
&c., the total number of different members with which it has
been observed thus conjoined being r, and the total number of
observations m1? m2, &c., being n; then the probabilities, p1? p2,
&c., that when next observed A will be conjoined with B, C,
&c., respectively, are:

If compared with the formula arising from the assumption
that the sample drawn is a fair one, viz. PJ = - -1 it will be

found to depart from it in any considerable degree only when
the number of observed conjunctions is small absolutely, or
when it is small compared with the number of different con
joined members. Again comparing the empirical observation
of the conjunction of events to drawing balls from a huge
ballot box, we may return to the old problem on page 67. The
qualities of transparency, vitreous lustre, etc., have been observed
conjoined with the sensation of cold eighty times, and with a

i Those who are interested in this matter may find it discussed in
Laplace's Theorie des Probabilities. Also a condensation in Todhunter,
History of Probability, p. 554 — and considerably simplified in De Mor
gan's Essay on Probability, Chap. 3. Jevons gives a non-mathematical
treatment of the subject in The Principles of Science.

70 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

saline taste twenty times. From these observations to deter
mine the probability that the next observation will reveal a
conjunction with a cold feeling or a saline taste respectively.
Calling the probability of the first conjunction p^ and of the
second p2, we have by Laplace's Formula p±=^F = .7864;
p2=T20-13-=.2039. By the assumption that the samples are fair
ones, we have p1 =3%-= .80 ; p2 =-f^= .20. The percentage error
of P! by the latter formula is only about 1.7% too large, and
that of p2 is only about 1.9% too small. Had the number of
observations been increased to 800 and 200 respectively, we
should have had the same result by the second formula, and by
Laplace's formula should have had: pi=T8orV=-?986; P2=Tlnri
= .2004. And obviously, it is universally the case that, as the
number of observations increases, the results of the two formula?
continually approach coincidence. An infinite number of ob
servations would result in complete coincidence. This reveals
the most conspicuous source of error in the second formula. It
is evident that no finite number of observations could ever make
it certain that some conjunction different from any previously ob
served might not be observed in the future. Now it is certain
that all conjunctions to be observed will be either some one of
those already observed or they will not — the assertion that
the conjunction will be some particular conjunction is a cer
tainty. Hence the sum of the several probabilities must be 1 rep
resenting certainty. If we add Pl and p2, as obtained from the
second formula, viz. .80 and .20, we find that they already equal
1, which is equivalent to asserting that no other conjunction than
those observed can be observed. This is obviously asserting more
than the observations can justify, since (to return to the ballot
box analogy) had the box contained white, black, and red balls
m the ratio of eighty to twenty to one, one hundred drawings
would have been insufficient to afford a fair sample, and we
should, m assuming that it could, have assumed, perhaps, that
because we had drawn no red ball, that it was impossible to
Laplace's Formula, on the other hand, is subject
to no such error. If we add together Pl and p0 as obtained
from his formula, viz. .7864 and .2039, we obtain".9903. Sub-
s from 1, we find that the probability that the next
enation will be of some conjunction different from either
observed before is 0097 when the total observations have been

6 tlmu ^Rt the observations have been in-
this probability has diminished to 001 which

CHAP. II] TRUTH 71

is the mathematical method of asserting, what the simplest com
mon sense confirms, that there is a better chance of observing
all the conjunctions that are to be observed when the observa
tions have been many than when they have been few.

Applying the theorem given on page 66 to the Formula of
Laplace we obtain as an extension of that formula an expres
sion for the probability of any number of repetitions of the
occurrence of a given conjunction. Thus in the formula pt =

mi + 1 . if the probability that the conjunction whose occurrence
n + r + 1

has been observed m± times will in the future occur y times in
succession, is represented by P, we have :

mt + l m1 + 2 ^ m1 + y

n + r+1 n + r + 2 ' " n + r + 1

and it is obvious that, by application of the same theorem, it
would be equally easy to establish a formula for the probability
of the occurrence of 'any of the r- 1 other conjunctions in suc
cession, or for any successive combination of them. Remember
ing that probabilities are always common fractions, and that the
formula for a succession of conjunctions is in the form of a
product, it is evidently a rule universally valid that the prob
ability of a succession of conjunctions decreases as the number
of members of the succession increases.

As an example of the application of the formulae we have
been discussing, we may cite the illustrations given by Jevons,
as follows:

" When an event has happened a very great number of times,
its happening once again approaches nearly to certainty. Ihus
if we suppose the sun to have arisen demonstratively one
thousand million times, the probability that it ^will^ rise again,
on the ground of this knowledge merely, is t7oVo,o o 0,0 o o + l+i
But then the probability that it will continue to rise for as long

- * . -I ±,000, 000*0 00~T-

a period as we know it to have risen is only 2,ooo,ooo,ooo+T
or almost exactly |. The probability that it will continue so
rising a thousand times as long is only about ii0101. The lesson
which we may draw from these figures is quite that which we
should adopt on other grounds, namely that experience never
affords certain knowledge, and that it is exceedingly improbable
that events will always happen as we observe them. Inferences
pushed far beyond their data soon lose any considerable prob
ability. De Morgan has said 'No finite experience whatsoever
ean justify us in saying that the future shall coincide with the

V2 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BooK I

past in all time to come, or that there is any probability for
such a conclusion.' "

It will be noticed that the only conjunctions the probabilities
of which we have attempted to evaluate are such as have a com
mon member. The reason why we have not discussed those
having no common member is because comparison of such con
junctions neither increases nor decreases the probability of their
future occurrence. Thus should we observe the conjunction
between the coldness and the other sensible qualities of ice, and
also that between the hardness and the other sensible properties
of diamond, the comparison of these two conjunctions would
add nothing to, and subtract nothing from, our knowledge of
the probability of their future conjunction. It is true of two
conjunctions having no common member, as of two propositions
having no common term, that no more can be inferred from
them conjointly than can be inferred from them separately.

The ordinary uniformities of conjunction familiar to every
one, expressed in such propositions as : Grass is green : Water is
not dry : Clouds often indicate rain : etc., are generally referred
to as facts, a term having several other meanings besides.
When such facts are of considerable importance, or are used
much in scientific discussion, they are called laws or principles.
I shall make no attempt to distinguish laws into classes on
such a basis, but shall consider them all as expectations whose
probability it is of interest to ascertain.

A uniformity of conjunction or law which is not deducible
from any other law or laws can only be established by observa
tion, and its probability is measurable only by the Formula of
Laplace, or some extension thereof. Such a uniformity is called
an empirical law. A uniformity which is deducible from one
or more others is called a derivative law. That from which
either kind of law is inferred is called evidence. The evidence
which establishes empirical laws is called aposteriori evidence
and consists of observations of the conjunctions whose uniform
ity is predicated by the law. Any portion of this evidence is
called a reason aposteriori, and is adjudged a good or a bad
reason, according as it tends or does not tend to establish a
high degree of probability for the law or the expectation ex
pressed by it. ^The evidence which establishes derivative laws
is_ called apriori evidence, and consists of the propositions con
stituting the premises, immediate or remote, from which the law
1 Principles of Science; p. 299.

CHAP. II] TEUTH T3

is deducible, and any assemblage of such propositions, so related
as to conform to the rules of deduction and having the law as a
conclusion, is called a reason apriori, and is adjudged a good
or a bad reason by the same rule as that applicable to a reason
aposteriori. How it comes about that propositions conforming
to the rules of deduction are capable of establishing anything
but a certainty will be explained on page 76.

All the fundamental laws of nature, such as those of gravita
tion, thermodynamics, the conservation of matter, and even the
law of causation itself, are empirical laws. They are simply
statements of the results of observation. They cannot be in
ferred from other uniformities and no cause can be assigned
for them. N~o one has ever been able to give a reason why every
particle of matter should attract every other particle with a
force varying directly as the mass, and inversely as the square
of the distance. No one has ever been able to give a reason
why the quantity of energy in an isolated system is constant a?
asserted by the first law of thermodynamics, nor why an isolated
system is not reversible, as asserted by the second; nor has any
reason ever been proposed why matter can neither be created
nor destroyed. Many other uniformities are to be observed in
nature which are purely empirical. No reason apriori, for ex
ample, can be cited why water is colorless, why graphite is black,
why diamond is hard, why gold has a high specific gravity —
these are simply observed uniformities. In these and similar
empirical laws (referring to Laplace's Formula) mx would be
a very high number — millions, or billions, or even more, in some
of the^laws cited, n would be the same number, and r would be 1.
That is, they are laws with no observed exceptions, or universal
laws. Besides these there are general laws, which have excep
tions, sometimes very few, sometimes a good many. An exam
ple of the first kind would be: Most crows are black. A few
white crows have been observed, say one in a hundred thousand.
Suppose, for the sake of illustration, that the number of different
crows which have been observed were 10,000,000,000; then
according to Laplace's Formula, the probability that the next
crow observed by any person would be black, would be :

From these examples it is apparent that the numerical data
required for the application of Laplace's formula are seldom
available. It is misleading to express the uniformities estab
lished by observation in terms more accurate than the data
which establishes them can justify. Hence the expression of

74 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

observed uniformities assumes, in general, such forms as: All
As are Bs: Most As are Bs: Some As are Bs: A few As
are not Bs: etc. Thus it is clear that unless we are to extend
inferences far beyond their data the assumption that the con
junctions observed are fair samples of the unobserved will, in
general, be as accurate as the assumption involved in the For
mula of Laplace. But this is only a more exact way of saying
that the conjunctions observed will be similar to the conjunc
tions unobserved. In other words, the assumption which under
lies all empirical laws is that of the uniformity of nature.
Thus this universal assumption permits us to infer from the
observed to the unobserved, or as logicians usually express it,
from the known to the unknown; but it must never be forgot
ten that the probability of the inference is determinable only
by means^ of the Formula of Laplace. In truth Laplace's
Formula is the quantitative expression of the postulate of the
Uniformity of Nature. The qualitative expression simply tells
us that the unobserved will be similar to the observed. Laplace's
Formula tells us, within the limits of human foresight how
similar it will be.

We are now m a position to completely comprehend the nature
of the inductive syllogism, the formal expression of inductive
inference. Let us take the historic example furnished by
Whately. J

This, that, and the other magnet attract iron.
This, that, and the other magnet are all ma<mets
Therefore all magnets attract iron.

Thus expressed, it is clear that the minor premise is absurd
Let ns throw it into the form justified by human experience.
Inis, that, and the other magnet attract iron.
This, that, and the other magnet are fair samples of all

magnets.

Therefore all magnets attract iron.

The conclusion of this, as of all inductive syllogisms is an
mpincal law, whose major premise is an expression of observed
conjunctions and whose minor premise is an expression of the
um orimty of nature. If the major premise records phenom!
enal observations it involves the assumption of existence. As
we know the reservation with which we assert the observed con-
junctions to be fair samples of the unobserved, the nature of the
inductive syllogism is completely comprehended

There is another possible kind of inductive inference, known

CHAP. II] TEUTH 75

as perfect induction. It is of the form — A is an X, B is an X,
C is an X; therefore A, B, and C are Xs. An example would
be: Peter was an apostle, John was an apostle, James was an
apostle; therefore, Peter, John, and James were apostles. Mill
denominates these inferences, if inferences they are, as " Induc
tions improperly so-called/' They are merely a mode of re
cording observations and their validity does not require the
postulate of the uniformity of nature.

Now it is apparent that having established a series of em
pirical laws, we may, by the method of deduction derive other
laws or uniformities from them. Suppose, for example, that by
the inductive method we establish the following uniformities :

(1) Iron is the most magnetic metal.

(2) Iron has an atomic weight of fifty-six.

From these propositions, empirically established, we may de
duce the conclusion that the most magnetic metal has an atomic
weight of fifty-six. Similarly we may establish by experiment
that:

(1) Lithium is the lightest metal known.

(2) Lithium has an atomic weight of seven.

and from these premises may deduce the conclusion that the
lightest metal known has an atomic weight of seven. Combin
ing the first conclusion with the second and with the known
relation between seven and fifty-six, we infer by deduction that
the most magnetic metal has an atomic weight eight times that
of the lightest metal. Thus from four uniformities established
by observation, we have deduced three others, the truth of which
was involved in that of their premises.

As empirical laws are never anything more than probable, the
conclusions derived by deduction from them, i. e., derivative laws,
can never be anything but probable; in fact, except in imme
diate inferences/ they are, in general, less probable than the
premises from which they are derived. Thus in the last syllo
gism, suppose the probability of the minor premise: Lithium
is the lightest metal known, to be .9995 — and that of the
major premise: Lithium has an atomic weight of seven, to be
.9200. Then it is clear from the theorem on page 66 that the
conclusion: The lightest metal known has an atomic weight of
seven, will have a probability equal to the product of the proba
bilities of its premises: namely, .9200 x .9995 = .91954, and
similar reasoning applies to syllogisms in general, or to com
binations thereof. Hence the probability of any conclusion is
the product of the probabilities of its premises (assuming them

76 THE PEINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [Boon I

independent), which involves the assertion that the probability
of a derivative law is the product of the probabilities of the
(independent) empirical laws from which it is thus deduced.

Propositions., though sometimes useful in expressing invalid
expectations — as in works of fiction — are, so far as they con
cern the logician, useful only in the expression of truth. In
dealing with departments of thought whose premises are confined
to definitions and axioms, propositions express absolute truth
or certainty — • their probability always equals unity. .Such
departments of thought include pure mathematics and de
ductive logic, which are known as exact sciences. The objects
of experience with whicli these sciences deal are called Ideal
and are not to be discovered in the world of real phenomena.
A perfect circle, for example, is the only kind of a circle with
which geometry is concerned, and of which the propositions of
geometry hold true; but a perfect circle lias never been ob
served in nature. When propositions established by observation
enter into inference, certainty vanishes, since such propositions
never have a probability equal to unity. Nevertheless they are
still useful in the expression of truth, though not of absolute
truth. In all departments of thought except the exact sciences
then, a proposition is called true if it expresses a probabilitv
greater than one-half. If this be so however, it is clear that
from two true premises an untrue conclusion may be deduced
since it is easily possible that two probabilities, each greater
than one-half may have a product less than one-half. Hence
when we are dealing with any department of thought except
that consisting of the exact sciences, a ninth rule of the syllo-
gism must be added to the eight given on page 51 viz

Of course when one premise of a syllogism is a definition or
axiom, the Conclusion has a probability equal to that of the
other premise. In such cases, although we do not deal with

Now all that can affect probability, i. e., all evidence is either
dfrttlT or° ' T'T Gf " iX™ °r ^ductive Tt is derved
^^M^T^'fKm exPerience' B»t it is clear that
the probability of a given proposition is not alwavs — or even

o ^ de^ct on"' Thr°m °-T ** °f observati°ns, or from one line
The evidence is usually derived from several

CHAP. II] TEUTH T7

separate sources, and the total probability of the proposition
will be that which results from combining the evidence thus
separately accumulated. To learn how this may be done we
need but apply principles already established. Let us see first
how to combine aposteriori evidence.

It is apparent that the series of observations of an assemblage
of conjunctions having a common member will establish the
same probability for the empirical law which predicates the
uniformity of those conjunctions, whether made at one place and
time, or at several places and times, unless there is reason
apriori for expecting that the uniformity is a function of space
and time. Thus, ignoring the apriori probabilities concerned,
the proposition — All iron is magnetic — would be as probable,
had the observations which established it been made at one
place and time, as it is now when established by observations
made at many places and times. Hence, using our symbols
with the meaning already given them in the discussion of the
Formula of Laplace, if the aposteriori probability of a given law-
is from source A equal to — - from source B equal to

1 1

— , &c., the maximum number of different conjoined

rnemb2ers of the conjunctions observed being r, then the total
aposteriori probability from the several sources will be equal to

m1 + m.2 + mn+ . . . &c. + 1

n1 + n2 + n3+ . '. . &c. + r + l

In seeking to ascertain the correct mode of combining the
evidence from several sources of apriori evidence, we must dip
tin^uish between dependent and independent sources,
sources are independent if the occurrence or non-occurrence of
the conjunctions predicated in the case of any one does _not
affect the probability of the occurrence of the conjunctions
predicated in the case of any other. Thus suppose a given
person X to be the heir of three, and only three persons, B, U
and D, and that we desire to ascertain the probability that X
will receive a bequest. Suppose the several persons concerned
to be of such ages that the probability that B will die before
X is f that (Twill die before him is f, and that D will die
before him is £. The only way in which X can fail to receive
the bequest is 'for B, C, and D all to die after he does. By
the theorem on page 04 the probability that B will die after
him is |, that C will die after him is £, and that D will die

78 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

after him is f . The probability that all three events will occur
is, according to the theorem on page 66 i x ^ x § =^g- But if -fa
is the probability that X will fail to receive a bequest, then by
the theorem first cited, the probability that he will receive one
is 1 - J-g- = -i-J, which is the probability sought.

Similarly to ascertain the total probability of the occurrence
of a conjunction as determined by several independent, apriori
sources of evidence, first ascertain the probability of its non-
occurrence as determined by each source; the product of these
will be the total probability of its non-occurrence, and if this
be subtracted from unity the remainder will be the probability
of its occurrence. That is, if the probability of the occurrence

of a certain conjunction is from source (1) equal to r , from

source (2) equal to ^., from source (3) equal to i, &c. then the

d i

total probability of its occurrence is equal to

or more briefly

(b-a)(d~c)(f-e)
bdf

If the different sources of evidence are not independent, then
the probability resulting from combining them will be a func
tion of the particular mode of dependence and will involve the
application of the theorem on page 66. As this will vary in
each particular case, no general expression for it can be for
mulated.

To combine (^posteriori and apriori evidence precisely the
same operations are employed as in combining the evidence from
different apriori sources. That is, if the total probability of a

A

conjunction from all apostcriori sources is -- and the total

C

probability from all apriori sources is — , and the probabilities

are^ independently established, then the total probability avos-
teriori and apriori is:

1-

As in the former case, if the probabilities are dependent no
general expression can be formulated, but each case must be

CHAP. II] TEUTH 79

treated by itself according to the principles of probability herein
set forth.

The method described in this chapter of applying universal
intuitions to observations as a means to the establishment of
probabilities, and the method of combining or assembling these
probabilities, is the so-called scientific or inductive method. No
other method has ever been suggested for distinguishing ex
pectations which will from those which will not be fulfilled,
and to the mental operations involved in applying it to experi
ence, I shall give the name Belief -judgment, or Peithosyllogism
(Gr. 7ret^o> = believe :o-vA.Aoyio-//,os = judgment) because by such an
operation, and by no other, the validity of beliefs may be tested.

The nature of truth, probability, reasonableness, correctness,
knowledge, etc., and their relation to untruth, improbability,
unreasonableness, incorrectness, ignorance, etc., is now, I believe,
plainer than heretofore, and a brief reiteration, rendering clearer
these relationships may be tolerated.

If the numerical value of a belief -judgment is one-half, it is
indicative of doubt: if it is more than one-half, it is indicative
of truth: if it is less than one-half it is indicative of improba>-
bility. As a belief is an expectation greater than one-half, a
correct belief is a valid expectation greater than one-half, and
as a disbelief is an expectation less than one-half, a correct dis
belief is a valid expectation less than one-half, An untruth is
an improbability expressed as a truth. The knowledge of an
individual is great or small as the number and extension of the
valid expectations held by him are great or small, and ignorance
is the absence of knowledge. A reason is simply a piece of
evidence apriori or aposteriori; and when we say a proposition is
true or expresses a truth, we mean there is reason to believe it
rather than its contradictory — there is more evidence for it than
against it. Similarly when we say it expresses either an improb
ability or an untruth, we mean we have reason to disbelieve it
rather than its contradictory, for the reasonableness of a belief is
measured by its probability as determined by a belief-judgment.
Furthermore, when sufficient reason for a proposition can be
adduced, and not otherwise, the proposition may properly be
said to be one which should or ought to be believed, and thus
the signification of these words in their application to belief and
expectation is established.

Truth does not mean certainty nor untruth impossibility.
Were these terms mere synonyms for certainty and impossibility
respectively, they would be of little service in symbolizing the

80 THE PRINCIPLES OE COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

expectations of beings not omniscient. Assuming they were
such synonyms, the only truth would be the law of contradiction
and the only untruth would be its denial. Truth is merely the
name of the higher degrees of probability, and to distinguish
between greater or less degrees of truth, it is convenient to speak
of propositions that are certainly true, almost certainly true,
probably true, etc., and the same words are employed to dis
tinguish degrees of untruth.

By a proposition, as by a word, men can express only what
is in their mind; the meaning of a proposition is limited by the
meaning of the words which compose it. It is customary to
draw a distinction between thinking and knowing a thing. The
distinction is merely one of degree. In the ordinary accepta
tion of the terms to know, or to be certain of a thing, is merely
to have a strong expectation of it: to think or believe without
being certain is to have a less strong expectation. It is obvious
that no more than this can be meant, for this is all it is possible
for a person to have in his mind. He cannot mean more by
his words than it is possible for words to mean. For anyone
to claim he is certain (as I define that term) of anything except
the laws of thought, which are by definition certain, is to claim
that he is omniscient, though he may say that if A is B and if
C is B, then he is certain that A is C, but this is conditional
certainty. It is certainty with an if. It is certainty of in
ference only. The distinction between certainty and probability
is not alone one of degree, but of origin.

It must not be overlooked that the presumptions established
by a belief-judgment are those established by the inductive and
deductive evidence at the time and place available. No one
can form judgments more probable than his means of infor
mation permit. It is absurd to assert that presumptions can
be established upon data which are not available. Thus truths
established by common sense at one period of history may by
data subsequently discovered, be converted into untruths, but if
all men employ the method of common sense in inferring from
such evidence as is available to them, they will have done the
that a fallible being can do, and no man can do better than
the best he can. If the expectations aroused by adhering to com
mon sense are found to be mistaken and fail to be fulfilled it
is not the fault of the method employed, but is an unavoidable
consequence of man's fallibility ; and hence cannot be avoided
by the employment of any method short of one which will render
him infallible. Similarly if in computing the area of a piece

CHAP. II] TETJTH 81

of land, an engineer employs the data given him by his transit
and other means of information, and applies to these data the
rules of multiplication, division, and the other required rules of
mathematics, he has used the method of common sense, and if
he makes a mistake because of defective data, or through an
error of computation, it is not the fault of the rules he has
used, ^ but a consequence of human fallibility. No one proposes
to reject the multiplication table because school boys sometimes
make mistakes in multiplication.

The mathematical theory of probabilities is not, except in
particular cases, at all easy of application. Such mathematical
geniuses as Pascal, Leibnitz, and Bernouilli, fell into the most
elementary errors in their attempts to apply it; and even some
of the methods of Laplace have been questioned. Though
without doubt a powerful instrument of investigation strict pre
cautions are required in its use, because of the ease with which
it leads the unwary astray. The difficulties of the theory arise
chiefly from two sources.

First: in determining whether the members of a conjunction
are really the same or not. The conditions actually observed
in the case of any observation are always but a small proportion
of those observable, and in specifying what constitutes any mem
ber of a conjunction there is always danger of including too
little. For example, should we make a series of observations
on the eastern coast of America by which we established the uni
form conjunction of rainy weather with easterly winds, our ex
pectations would fail to be fulfilled should we therefrom be led
to expect a like uniformity of conjunction on the western coast.
The common member of the assemblage of observations con
cerned would include too little if expressed by the term easterly
winds. The expression should be easterly winds on the eastern
coast of the continent. With this member of the conjunction,
the conjoined member rainy weather is very uniformly associ
ated, but not with the too restricted member first named. Un
warrantable restriction of the conditions specified as constitut
ing one or both members of a conjunction leads to inferences
not justified by the data actually observed, and such unwarrant
able restriction often causes mistakes in applying the theory of
probabilities. In fact, two conjunctions can never be absolutely
and identically the same, since to be so they would have to be the
same in space and time, which would constitute them one con
junction instead of two.

Second : in determining whether conjunctions are really in-

82 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

dependent or not. It is this difficulty which has most often led
mathematicians astray, and which renders imperative the great
care so generally required in applying the formulas of the theory
of probabilities. D'Alembert, for instance, failed to perceive
that the probability of any given combination was the same when
coins are thrown successively as when thrown simultaneously.
He perceived an independence in the one case which he failed
to perceive in the other. Difficulties of this nature are often
met in problems involving probabilities, and for examples thereof
I refer the reader to any advanced algebra.

Although there can be no doubt that conjunctions occur which
appear to be completely independent of one another, and the
probabilities of which can be calculated on the assumption of
independence, yet there is reason to believe that such results
are due to the complication, and not to the absence, of causal
relations. As with the progress of science the sphere of human
knowledge is enlarged and the universe of human ignorance
invaded, the probability continually increases that truly inde
pendent conjunctions do not exist. Not only is the law of
universal causation everywhere verified, but as the investigation
of phenomena proceeds, a marvelously significant and interest
ing unity is discovered throughout nature. Uniformities for
merly isolated and apparently independent, turn out to be but
special cases of more comprehensive uniformities. Laws tend
to pass from the empirical to the derivative class. The dis
covery of the law of universal gravitation by Newton and his
successors, combined with the experiments of Cavendish and
others on the attraction of terrestrial bodies, has shown that the
fall of a stone and the movements of the heavenly bodies are but
two examples of the same uniformity. The labors of Clausius,
Maxwell, and others indicate that the atmosphere in which we
live, and move, and breathe, is a microcosm of bodies obeying
essentially the same laws of gravitation and inertia as those
which control the galaxy of stars which constitutes the visible
universe. The researches of scores of investigators have estab
lished a strong presumption that every phenomenal change,
whether in this world or in others, occurs in strict conformity
with the two laws of thermodynamics, or rather of energetics,
which have already been mentioned, and the spectroscope shows
that the same kinds of matter familiar to us on earth, hydrogen
jsodium, calcium, iron, &c., exist in the sun and stars and possess
properties there similar to those that they possess here.

The progressive discovery of these, and many other evidences

CHAP. II] TRUTH 83

of the unity of nature, inevitably suggests that could knowledge
be sufficiently extended, it might lead to the discovery of some
all comprehensive law or necessity of nature,, of which all ob
served or observable conjunctions are special cases. The nature
of this obscurely conceived necessity is, of course, unknown —
perhaps to beings of our restricted faculties it is unknowable —
but the probability of its existence is forced upon the attention
of him who contemplates the steady replacement of empirical by
derivative laws. However vaguely we may cognize this all in
clusive uniformity, in the comprehension of whose nature the
secrets of creation would be revealed, its existence must have
been coeval with the existence of the universe and its operation
or authority coextensive therewith. Thus thought of it appears
as a sort of primeval necessity, a First Cause, from which all
things have proceeded, of which all occurrences are the effects,
and from a knowledge of which all conjunctions would be de-
ducible.

To symbolize the First Cause thus inferred, the name God
is perhaps as appropriate as any other, since it is with some
such concept that thinkers, whether scientific or otherwise, are
more and more tending to associate that extremely equivocal,
yet awe-connoting term. Thus employed, however, it must not
be confused with the meaning attached to it by dogmatic theo
logians, inheriting their concepts from the crude anthropo
morphism prevalent in the childhood of the world, which repre
sents God as a manlike personality, subject to jealousy, anger,
and other infirmities of human nature. It is perhaps natural
that in the ignorance and intellectual isolation of a primitive
world, man should thus create God in his own image, and con
ceive of the universe as anthropocentric, just as a dog would
conceive of it as canocentric, or a cat as felocentric. Science
in its investigation of that "mighty sum of things forever
speaking " constituting the observable universe is led to no such
concept. It can discover no evidence that the First Cause of
all things is a magnified man. The language which nature,
the product of God, speaks, is not a human language, nor in its
interpretation is there any suggestion of an anthropomorphic
origin of creation. It is supremely shallow to test the limita
tions of nature by the limitations of man. In the present in
complete state of our knowledge we must content ourselves with
patiently and persistently groping for a clearer comprehension of
the presumed First Cause, which is perhaps after all beyond
our capacity ever to know : which may, in the words of Herbert

84 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [Boon I

Spencer, be "no more representable in terms of human con
sciousness than human consciousness is representable in terms
of a plant's functions."

It is apparent to anyone that the expectations constituting an
individual's knowledge are not present to his consciousness at
all times. They are stored up, as it were, in his mind, and it
is only because experiences in general tend to suggest former
experiences in some degree similar, that they can be made avail
able when required. As particular problems are suggested by
the events of life, the mind is constrained to seek their solution
by the application of knowledge already acquired, and this ap
plication is accomplished by means of what are known as hy
potheses. The degree of probability of a conjunction is deter
mined by a belief-judgment, but the operation of the mind
involved therein is not the only mental operation included in
inductive processes. The assembling of observations to estab
lish an empirical law we may denominate simple induction.
The equally common inductive process involved in the applica
tion of knowledge to particular problems, we may call com
pound induction. It requires simple induction as an essential
antecedent, and its nature may readily be revealed.

An hypo-thesis is a guess or assumption suggested or generated
by an observation, and so related thereto that the presence of
said hypothesis in the mind leads, or should lead, to the expecta
tion of the observation. An hypothesis is either a previously
established, or an assumed, uniformity or law of nature, or some
deduction therefrom, and, if reasonable, is said to explain the
observation which generates it ; for when an observation is such
that we might reasonably have expected it, it is said to be
explained or to have received an explanation. We are perpet
ually making hypotheses at almost every moment of our waking
life. This may easily be shown. Ordinarily as we go about
our daily affairs, we feel no surprise at what we perceive about
us. If we feel none it is because ordinary occurrences are
not unexpected, and if they are not it must be because we have
reason, or at least believe we have reason, to expect them. I
do not mean that we anticipate all our observations, but that
ordinary commonplace observations instinctively generate hy
potheses which anticipate astonishment. Were this not the case,
we should find ourselves deliberately seeking explanations of
sights and sounds as much among familiar, as among unfa
miliar, surroundings.

A simple example will make plain the universality of hypoth-

CHAP. II] TRUTH 85

eses : Suppose we go to see an exhibition of strength. Among
other things, we observe lying upon the floor of the stage a
large dumb-bell. We are asked what it is made of, and reply
without hesitation, " of iron." This is obviously only an hy
pothesis, and is founded upon the previous uniformity attested
by memory, with which objects whose appearance is that of a
dumb-bell have possessed the properties of iron. The per
former now appears, and with great evidence of effort raises
the dumb-bell above his head and receives the applause of the
audience. On the hypothesis that the dumb-bell is of iron the
feat is an extraordinary one. Presently a small woman comes
upon the stage, and taking up the dumb-bell tosses it about
with no effort whatever. For a moment we are astonished.
Why? Because on the hypothesis that the dumb-bell is of iron,
the ease with which a woman handles it is inexplicable; but
the next moment we have formulated another hypothesis — we
have guessed again — and our astonishment disappears. This
time we guess that the dumb-bell is a mere imitation, made
of papier-mache, intended as a joke to deceive the audience,
and we select this new hypothesis because it will explain the
new observation. Such a deception as described is successful,
only because the generation of hypotheses by observation is uni
versal. Now an hypothesis is an expectation, and as it is gen
erated by observation, it is an induction. Whether it is a cor
rect one or not depends upon its probability as determined by a
belief -judgment.

To illustrate how such a probability is determined, we may
quote Jevons' example. Be it observed, however, that he does
not employ the Formula of Laplace, but the closely related
formula which we adopted as a provisional assumption on page

68. By converting — into — , &c., the re-

p! + p2 + p3 p! + p2 + p3 + 4 '

quired correction may be made. Jevons7 statement is correct
for his assumption, viz., that it is "certain that one or other of
the supposed causes exists," but this can never be certain.

" If an event can be produced by any one of a certain number
of different causes, the probabilities of the existence of these causes
as inferred from the event, are proportional to the probabilities
of the event as derived from these causes. In other words, the
most probable cause of an event which has happened is that which
would most probably lead to the event, supposing the cause to
exist ; but all other possible causes are also to be taken into
account with probabilities proportional to the probability that

86 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

the event would have happened if the cause existed. Suppose, to
fix our ideas clearly, that E is the event, and C± C2 C3 are the
three only conceivable causes. If C± exist, the probability is pt
that E will follow; if C2 and C3 exist, the like probabilities are
respectively p2 and p3. Then as px is to p2, so is the probability of
G1 being the actual cause to the probability of C0 being it; and,
similarly, as p2 is to p3, so is the probability of C2 being the actual
cause to the probability of C3 being it. By a very simple mathe
matical process we arrive at the conclusion that the actual prob
ability of C± being the cause is

Pi

Pi + P2 + P3
and the similar probabilities of the existence of C2 and C are

— and - -B* _ ,
Pi+P2+P8 P^-Pj + P,

Lne sum ot these three tractions amounts to unity, which correctly
expresses the certainty that one cause or other must be in operation.
" We may thus state the result in general language. If it is cer
tain that one or other of the supposed causes exists, the probability
that any one does exist is the probability that if it exists the event
happens, divided by the sum of all the similar probabilities." *

The method thus described is that by which we determine
the antecedent probability of an hypothesis as tested by one or
one class, of its presumed effects. It may as readily be applied
to the process of verification. This process depends on the prin
ciple that a given cause has many effects. Hence if the cause
issumed is the true one, w.e may expect other effects than the
one first observed. The effects thus made probable apriori may
be searched for, and if found, the hypothesis is said to be veri
fied, i e., verification consists of the observation of effects de
duced from a hypothesis, and may be of many degrees. In fact,
all possible hypotheses as to the causes of an event are in some
degree verified if the event occurs, since they would not be possi-
e causes if the event was not cleducible from them with some

that -

fTl I i hypotheses as to its cause are proposed

Call the hypothetical causes C1? C2, C3, &c. The hypothesis
which assumes C to be the cause ofE may then be Son-

en e

That is if 0 anVtber GffeCtS E» E» E« *c" deduced .

Ql.mil A K lf ?,e CaUse actuallJ in operation Ex, E0, E3, &c
should be observable since they are effects of C,. If they are

i Principles of Science ; p. 279.

CHAP. II] TKUTH 87

observed, the provisional hypothesis is verified. If not, it is
unverified, and a provisional hypothesis assuming C2 to be the
cause is adopted and the same means is employed to verify it
as in the case of the first hypothesis. After testing all pro
posed hypotheses in this manner, that one is adopted as the
correct one which is best verified by experience. The mental
process involved in making an hypothesis and seeking its verifi
cation is that referred to as compound induction. Its expres
sion is called a hypothetical syllogism, examples of which will
be found in Chapter 6. Of course the more completely the
results predicted and those observed agree, the more perfectly
is an hypothesis verified. On the other hand, the more com
pletely they disagree, the more perfectly is it refuted; but no
finite amount of experience can completely verify or refute an
hypothesis — all hypotheses are provisional, and must be, so long
as man is not omniscient. Many, however, are put so far beyond
a reasonable doubt as to be for all practical purposes, certain.

We here terminate our necessarily brief exposition of the
inductive method of arriving at truth. It is the method which
science persistently pursues and is identical with that which
men pursue in the familiar affairs of life. Under such condi
tions it is known as common sense. In fact, science is but con~
sistent common sense. It is common sense applied as rigorously
to unfamiliar as to familiar things, and the fact that men so
generally fail to recognize it as such, indicates with what un
fortunate uniformity the application of common sense is re
stricted to the commonest concerns of life. Nothing is more
frequently asserted than the uselessness of logic, largely per
haps because its forms are unfamiliar. We do not see men in
their daily affairs constructing syllogisms and applying canons
of induction. Logic, therefore, may be well enough to divert
impractical philosophers, but it is of no real service in an
active world. Nine men out of ten reason thus, and the less
they know of logic, the more positive they are that it is useless.
No less brilliant a mind than that of Lord Macaulay shared
this view, and incidentally proved the value of logic by attempt
ing to disprove it. His method was the common one of demon
strating that a knowledge of the logical method is superfluous
by citing a number of cases in which it is superfluous; just as
it is easy to show that a knowledge of reading and writing is
superfluous, because people can cook, and eat, and plant pota
toes, and draw water, without such knowledge.

88 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

It is probable that should a farmer be offered a compass to
guide him about his farm he would laugh at the offer,, and
say that such an instrument was useless to him, as he could
find his way over such familiar ground without it, and it need
not be denied that for such a purpose a compass would be
superfluous. But suppose the farmer should claim that it was
equally superfluous to serve as a guide in a neighboring track
less forest. It is obvious that should he act on this expectation
he would, in endeavoring to penetrate the forest, be in danger
of losing his way, and perhaps dying of starvation. Now men
apply common sense well enough to common things, but to
. uncommon things they appear to think that some sort of un
common sense is better adapted. Thus they are led into innu
merable errors and absurdities, some conspicuous examples of
which will be examined in the succeeding pages.

Before leaving the theme of this chapter it will be well to
examine with some care a subject of extraordinary philosophic
interest which our analysis of the nature of inference, if sound,
should enable us to comprehend. It has been suggested to the
minds of men by the assumption involved in the first inductive
postulate. We have shown that a reason or assemblage of rea
sons is that by which truth is to be distinguished from untruth
and we have already considered how reasons are related to ex
planation. Experience, if explained at all, must be explained
by other experience. When we use the term why in relation
to the validity or invalidity of an expectation — to the truth
or falsity of a proposition — that for which we inquire is a
reason or explanation, and when we ask: "Why is this or
that experience to be expected," our only answer can be • " Be
cause this or that experience has been observed."

Now the question to which the metaphysical mind constantly

Why do we have experience? and particularly:

Why do we have experience of phenomena? What is the rea

son tor, or explanation of, the occurrence of experience itself?

the answer which the metaphysician desires to this question

eally desire when

«» v ™r

why then that which he desires is an explanation. But this
could scarcely satisfy him, since it would" merely amount to
saying that we have experience because we have it

Some metaphysicians appear to claim, however, that an ex-
•lanation may be given of phenomenal experience - that is of
phenomena. At any rate, they seem to think that they can tell
us about something which has some sort of relation ^not pre

CHAP. II] TEUTH 89

cisely specified, to an explanation. They claim that phe
nomena are related in a manner expressible by the term causal
to something or other to which they give the name of a nou-
menon or tliing-in-itself , sometimes called a substance or an
efficient cause. Of this thing-in-itself they postulate existence,
and thus explain phenomena by reference to it; for say they,
as the noumenon exists and is an efficient cause of phenomena,
it is clear that phenomena are explained, for when we can
show that a cause exists, it is obvious that we have shown a
reason for the effect. If asked why they postulate a cause at
all, they reply that everything must have a cause and therefore
phenomena must have one. Moreover they point out that dif
ferent beings perceive the same phenomena under the same con
ditions, and this can only be explained on the assumption that
their perceptions are due to the same cause. De Morgan ex
presses this view in the following words :

" Our most convincing communicable proof of the existence of
other things (things-in-themselves) is, not the appearance of
objects, but the necessity of admitting that there are other minds
besides our own. The external inanimate objects might be crea
tions of our own thought, of thinking and perceptive function;
they are so sometimes, as in the case of insanity, in which the
mind has frequently the appearance of making the whole or
part of its own external world. But when we see other beings
performing similar functions to those which we ourselves perform,
we come so irresistibly to the conclusion that there must be
other sentients like ourselves, that we should rather compare
a person who doubted it to one who denied his own existence
than to one who simply denied the real external existence of the
material world.

" When once we have admitted different and independent minds,
the reality of external objects (external to all those minds) fol
lows as of course. For different minds receive impressions at
the same time which their power of communication enables them
to know are similar, so far as any impressions, one in each of two
different minds, can be known to be similar. There must be a
somewhat independent of those minds, which thus acts upon them
all at once and without any choice of their own. This somewhat
is what we call an external object." 1

That we have reason to believe that other minds than our
own exist is obvious, nor is it worth while to discuss what the
reasons are. No one considers that a stone gives evidence of
sentience, and everyone considers that a horse or a man does.

i Formal Logic, p. 28,

90 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [Boon I

To admit the existence of other minds is not difficult. It is
merely to admit the existence of states of consciousness made
up of elements similar to (or even different from) our own,
differently distributed in co-existence and succession from any
to which our memories testify. We believe,, that is, we have
a strong expectation, that such minds exist, but like our other
expectations, this one does not attain to certainty — to deny
it does not involve a contradiction — as the denial of the ex
istence of our own minds does. De Morgan, however, says that
" when once we have admitted different and independent minds
the reality of external objects (external to all those minds) fol
lows as of course/' We can neither concede nor deny this con
clusion until we know what it means. What is it that " follows
as of course " ? Nothing less than the " reality of external ob
jects/' Now we know fairly well what " external objects " are
— they are those objects of experience expressible in terms of
visible and tangible sensation — at least it would be to such an
object that any person would point, were he asked for an exam
ple of an external object.

An examination of De Morgan's words would lead us to the
belief that he disagreed with this commonly accepted view of
the meaning of the term external object. Apparently he be
lieves that an external object is some kind of a "somewhat"
whatever that may be, and is itself imperceptible. On this
supposition it is a mystery how external objects ever came to
be named at all. Let us ignore for the; moment De Morgan's
mode of expression — for it is but a mode of expression — and
assume that he admits the ordinary meaning of the term Thus
assuming, we are told that "it follows as of course" that ex
ternal objects possess a certain quality the name of which is
• reality." The only interest which the term reality has to a
logician is confined to its sense. Its sound has no interest to
him. He therefore feels himself entitled to ask — « What does
it mean?- It would be generally conceded that the terms
existence and reality imply the same quality — the quality
common to existences and realities, as distinguished from non-
existences and unrealities. An unreal existence is simply a
non-existence The question then is, what is meant by the term
existence^ We might have selected the term reality but
existence is the commoner of the two.) It is a term continually
used and its equivalent is to be found in practically all well
developed languages. The distinction between existence and
non-existence is evidently a conspicuous one in the minds of

CHAP. II] TKUTH 91

men, and in the ordinary affairs of life it is not misunderstood.
And yet how many persons can give a definition of the term
existence? Not many, I apprehend. Yet the first person we
meet on the street will prove by his acts that he knows what the
term implies, just as he knows, in general, what the term truth
implies, though he cannot define it. How then is it that men
may be misled by terms so well understood? It is for the old
reason : that a meaning sufficient for one purpose is insufficient
for another. For ordinary purposes no definition at all of the
term truth is sufficient — the examples of truths which men
carry in their memories are sufficient for such purposes; but
just as soon as we depart from familiar things, and attempt to
reason about things remote and unfamiliar, truth must have
some sort of definition or we shall soon be confusing it with
untruth. Similarly with the term existence. Its definition is
even less essential than that of truth. Its exemplification in
the experience of men has been complete. It would seem that
anything specifically observable is an example of an existence —
yet such assertions as that just quoted from De Morgan (and
it is but one example of many such) make it evident that there
may be purposes for which a definition of the term is required.
Let us examine the matter.

There is one meaning of the word existence which is obvious
at once. It is universally conceded that anything actually ex
perienced is an example of an existence — an existing experience
is merely an experience — that is, in the broadest meaning of
the term, an existence is merely an experience or set of experi
ences. But it is a second meaning of the term which gives rise
to most of the confusion. Does the external world exist? Does
matter exist? It is this question which has perplexed phi
losophers since the time of Plato. The answer to it, as has been
said, depends upon what we mean by existence. If it does not
so depend then it would be as sensible to ask : Does the external
world x? Does matter x? Now I apprehend little difficulty
in discovering what is generally meant by existence. It may
be discovered by observing under what conditions men employ
the term, and under what conditions they withhold it, and then
observing what distinction in experience corresponds to the dis
tinction between the terms existence and non-existence, as thus
actually applied. If there are many such distinctions, the terms
are equivocal — if there are not, they are not. This is, in fact,
the method by which we should ascertain the accepted meaning

92 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

of any term such as coat, house., egg, tree, etc. Let us apply
the test.

Suppose we should inform a friend that a large mahogany
dining table existed in the adjoining room. Suppose he should
thereupon go thither and observe a table answering that descrip
tion. He would then agree with us that the table existed there,
would he not ? Suppose, on the other hand, that after carefully
examining the room, he could observe nothing of the kind there.
He would then disagree with our assertion that a table existed
there, would he not ? Suppose that upon failing to observe the
table, he returned to us and said that we must have been mis
taken about the existence of the table since he had failed to
observe it; and suppose we replied to him thus: "I did not
say you would observe the table in the next room — I merely
said that it existed there/' Would not such a speech cause our

friend surprise ? Would he not be constrained to inquire " If

in saying that the table existed there you did not imply that it
was observable there, what did you imply ? " And if he should
so inquire, what answer could we make ? The reader may think
of an intelligible and sufficient answer, but I can think of none.
On the other hand, suppose we informed our friend that the
table did not exist in the next room; would he not have deemed
our assertion mistaken if he had observed it there? In this
case then, existence evidently implied observability, and if we
examine the matter, I think we shall agree that it implied noth
ing more, since the observance of the table would have been
sufficient to have justified the predication of its existence —
its non-observance sufficient to have justified the predication of
;s non-existence. It will be noticed that the observability thus
implied by the term existence is an impersonal observability
— it is no part of the meaning of the term that any specified
individual shall observe the tiling of which existence is pred
icated. Of course, the example cited is but one; hence I
recommend the reader to test it as thoroughly as he feels in
clined. Let him note anything which he experiences through
e senses, sight hearing, touch, etc., by which we are made
cognizant of that portion of our experiences known as external
and satisfy himself whether or not he ever observes a non-
8 wha* does * look like, or sound like, or feel

. J.J.IYV3. \JL J.ct/1

elusion «»* I-- - ? ^,exP™?s he ™W ™me to the con-

- w j "«*J <^wj.

™ he can, and often lias, observed non-existences; and
will therefore perhaps conclude that existence and observability
cannot mean the same thing; and this perhaps will perplex him

CHAP. II] ' TKUTH 03

The confusion thus produced is an instructive example of what
a simple equivocality in terms may do to throw the mind off
the track. The term existence is, indeed, much more equivocal
than at first sight appears, and it is this defect in the term
which causes the trouble — not any inconsistency in the nature
of things. The reader might notice, for example, that a shadow
may be observed; and yet it is not an existence as a stone or
block of wood is. In this latter use of the term, existence cer
tainly does not mean observability but means tangible as well as
visible observability — the identity of sound leading to a con
fusion in sense. The original meaning, however, remains, for
an observed shadow certainly would not be called a non-existent
one; thus, in one meaning of the term, shadows exist, and in
another they do not. It simply depends on how we find it con
venient to apply the term. In dreams also, observability does
not seem to imply existence, a source of difficulty which we
shall presently consider. I shall confine the meaning of the
term existence to its broader, though not its broadest, sense,
that is, an (external) existence is merely that which is to be
observed, and the common quality of existences is (impersonal)
observability. An existence is merely a phenomenon, and we
have simply to notice under what conditions people apply the
term to become satisfied that this is what is generally meant by
it, though it sometimes is restricted in its application to visible
and tangible phenomena only. Nor is the term confined to
phenomena actually observed, but is extended to include things
which it would be physically impossible for men to observe.
Thus an astronomer would agree that mountains exist on the
other side of the moon, but hotels do not; though he is aware
that no one known to him is in a position to make observations
of the other side of the moon. Nevertheless he believes that
should anyone be in a position to observe, he would observe
the presence of mountains and the absence of hotels; hence he
predicates the existence of the first and the non-existence of the
second. An (external) existence then is merely a phenomenon.
Now if we revert to De Morgan's assumed assertion that ex
ternal objects have the quality of reality or existence, we see
that it amounts to nothing more than the assertion that objects
observable have the quality of observability, which is no more
than saying that what is, is. Can this be all he meant? Ap
parently not, and I apprehend that the reader will, at this point,
be inclined to object that I have all along been confusing two
things — 'the phenomenon with the cause of the phenomenon;

94 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

that the qualities of existence and of observability are not the
same quality, but that the first is a cause of the second ; that an
external object as De Morgan says is not a phenomenon but the
cause of a phenomenon. This objection might serve the purpose
which a similar line of thought has served so often — of con
fusing the whole matter — were it not for two things : first the
perfectly palpable fact that what everyone, except a metaphysician,
agrees in calling an external object is a phenomenon, as the sim
plest test with the next man we meet will show; and second, that
we have taken the precaution to learn the nature of a cause. Now
a cause is either a non-phenomenal experience like volition, or it
is a phenomenon. To which of these classes does the cause of
phenomena — the so-called efficient cause belong? Obviously
not to the second, that would be asserting that phenomena are
caused by other phenomena (which is, in general, true enough),
whereas the metaphysician appears to be seeking that which is
the cause of all phenomena as distinguished from that which
causes particular phenomena. Neither does it belong to the
first class — at any rate there is nothing in the term "some
what " to suggest such a thing, or to lead us to the belief that
efficient causes are of this class, and still more difficult would
it be to discover evidence of such a cause. But if it belongs to
neither of these classes, it is not a cause at all. In fact, if we
inquire whether the meaning of such a term as efficient cause or
thing-in-itself may be expressed in terms of experience, the
metaphysicians tell us that it cannot ; but if it cannot, then the
term cannot satisfy the first requirement of intelligibility; in
other words, it must either be a meaningless term, or a synonym
of the word nothing. (See p. 19.) The latter is the more plausi
ble supposition, for if we ask a metaphysician by what per
ceptible quality or qualities a thing-in-itself is to be distin
guished from nothing, he is quite unable to say. Indeed, we
are forced to the conclusion that what metaphysicians try to
refer to by the words substance, efficient cause, noumenon, thing-
in-itself, is some peculiar kind of nothing. If it can neither be
defined nor exemplified, what else can it be ? It does not clear
up the obscurity to say an efficient cause is one kind of cause.
By so doing we may attain a similarity of sound, but not of
sense. It would be quite as illuminating to say that circles are
of two kinds, round circles and square circles, as to say that
causes are of two kinds, sensible causes and efficient causes.
When we have discovered the cause of a thing, we are said to
have explained it, but to discover that phenomena are due to an

CHAP. II] TRUTH 95

efficient cause is to discover that the cause of something is noth
ing; for as metaphysicians postulate existence of an efficient
cause, and this latter term being the equivalent of the term
nothing in meaning, they are led to the conclusion that noth
ing exists, and as the cause exists, the effect must follow, or from
the existence of nothing the existence of something " follows
as of course/' And by thus expressing the unknown, not only
by the still more unknown, but by the utterly unknowable and
unintelligible, they appear to think some sort of explanation is
afforded. To such implied inanity have the greatest intellects
been led, simply from their failure to sufficiently define such
words as existence, cause, explanation,, and indeed the moment
a sufficient definition of the one word existence is established, the
whole metaphysical structure falls like a house of cards, for it
is a verbal structure only.

When we once have clearly in mind the meaning of the words
existence or reality, the reality of external objects " follows as
of course" as De Morgan says, but reality is not a quality of
the so-called efficient causes of phenomena, but of phenomena
themselves. This was, in fact, the contention of Bishop Berkeley.
His main contribution to philosophy was, in substance, to pro
vide a definition of the word matter. The popular notion that
he denied its existence is based upon his objection to the meta
physical use of the term exist. Thus he says :

" I do not argue against the existence of any one thing that we
can apprehend either by sense or reflection. That the things I
see with my eyes and touch with my hands do exist, really exist,
I make not the least question. The only thing whose existence
we deny is that which Philosophers call Matter or corporeal sub
stance. And in doing of this there is no damage done to the
rest of mankind, who, I dare say, will never miss it. The Atheist
indeed will want the colour of an empty name to support his
impiety; and the Philosophers may possibly find they have lost a
great handle for trifling and disputation.

" If any man thinks this detracts from the existence or reality
of things, he is very far from understanding what hath been
premised in the plainest terms I could think of." 1

In discussing the application of such a term as exist we are
dealing with two distinct questions — one of philosophy and

i A Treatise Concerning the Principles of Human Knowledge, Vol. I.,
p. 276. The Works of Geo. Berkeley, Clarendon Press, Oxford,
1901.

96 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

one of etymology. The " coxcombs " who " vanquish Berkeley
with a grin/' by their acts prove that they agree with his
philosophy, though they express disagreement with his etymol
ogy. This is of small consequences, however, except as again
illustrating how easily men make inferences from the sound
instead of the sense of words.

A brief consideration of the phenomena 01 dreams will clinch
our claims and convince any clear minded man of the invulner-
i I ° BerkeleJ's position. In dreams we observe persons
and things and yet deny that they are existing persons and
Now just what do we admit and what do we denv?
inat the experiences, the pure observations exist (usino- the
word exist m its broadest meaning) we do not deny The s&ensa
tions experienced are experienced: thus much is certain and is
admitted But while dreaming, we draw from these experiences
certain inferences -the same in fact which we houM draw
from the same experiences if we had them when awake The
pure observations generate expectations that the objects DP/

* J er

are> or might ^ obsevable b Qther
selves — concerning them we have impersonal expectations -

and

,

but deny the truth of the inferences from it. We deny the first
that after all life mav ti^ n«t f \ ! common admission

more than what he i^K Proposition can a man express

w

CHAP. II] TEUTH 97

other proposition. Certainties are confined to the laws of
thought.

We have digressed into the discussion of this subject princi
pally to show the vital necessity of intelligibility. Words which
should be the servants of the mind, when applied to abstract
subjects, frequently reverse their position, and the intellect be
comes the slave of its symbols — language becomes an instru
ment for concealing truth, not only from him who hears it, but
from him who employs it in thought. In such subjects indeed,
words are too often not the signs of ideas or impressions, but
the substitutes for them. There is a well known aphorism to
the effect that metaphysics is a disease of language. Our diag
nosis confirms this view, and indicates that the disease consists
of atrophy of intelligibility.

Having proceeded thus far in the discussion, perhaps it will
be as well to briefly clear up my own position. It may be
asked — " If you abandon the notion of an efficient cause as the
explanation of phenomena, what do you substitute for it ? " In
other words, how are we to answer the question which persists
in spite of repeated failures to answer it: Why do we have ex
periences of phenomena at all ? Now clearly to answer this
question we must first understand just what it is that we are
inquiring for. Is it an explanation? If so, the answer must
be in terms of experience, but this will not do, since that by
which we explain experience would be the very thing for which
we seek an explanation, and if not in terms of experience, the
answer would certainly be incomprehensible, since it would be
meaningless. It is clearly not an explanation that we desire;
yet metaphysicians appear to assume that it is, and increase the
confusion by attempting to answer the question as they would
other questions beginning with the word why. Of course, they
fall into the absurdities we have mentioned, and their readers
are tempted to express a wish similar to that of the puzzled
Byron when he spoke of Coleridge

. . . " explaining metaphysics to the nation —
I wish he would explain his explanation."

Once conceded, however, that this question does not call for
an explanation and things become clearer. Its resemblance to
a question which does call for an explanation becomes apparent.
When we ask a question like — Why does paraffine float? or
Why did the Campanile at Venice fall ? we are conscious of what

£8 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

may be called a sensation of interrogation — a species of un
certainty or doubt. When we receive the replies: Because its
specific gravity is less than water; or Because its foundations
were decayed; this sensation disappears, and it is characteristic
of an explanation that,, among other things, it is capable of
dispelling a sensation of interrogation. Now when we ask the
question: Why do we have experience of phenomena — of the
external world? we are conscious of a sensation "of interroga
tion — a feeling of doubt or wonder. Hence we conclude
that an explanation is what we desire as an answer, and
to those who have not closely inquired into the nature of
explanation, a reply having the form of an explanation may
suffice to dispel that sensation. Therefore when men are told
that phenomena are to be observed or experienced because things-
in-themselves exist which are efficient causes of phenomena, the
sensation of interrogation may thereby be dispelled, but it has not
been dispelled by an explanation, any more than in the familiar
story of the lady who inquired of the doctor why morphine put
people to sleep, and received the reply that it was because it
had a soporific effect — yet both replies may suffice to dispel
the sensation of interrogation. The sensation is dispelled by
the sound of the reply, and not by its sense. Indeed the whole
discussion has arisen over a mere mode of expression. To say
that phenomena are observable because they are efficiently caused
is only another way of saying that they are observable; just
as to say that morphine induces sleep because it has a soporific
effect is only another way of saying that it induces sleep. The
alleged explanation is thus but a synonym disguised as an ex
planation.

It not only appears impossible for us to give an answer
to the question — Why do we have experience of phenomena?
but we cannot even imagine what the nature of a reasonable
answer to such a question would be. It is probable that no com
bination of words could, by their sense alone, dispel the sensa
tion of interrogation which we undoubtedly feel on making this
inquiry. Like the question — Why are we unable to imagine
a contradiction ? it is unanswerable. In attempting to answer
such questions the mind encounters limits beyond which it
cannot penetrate. An explanation is an expression of the un
familiar in terms of the familiar — hence things, than which
none are more familiar, admit of no explanation.

It is_the effort of science to perfect our knowledge of all that
the universe contains; but deeply as knowledge may penetrate,

CHAP. II] TEUTH 99

it cannot take us beyond experience. The efforts of metaphysi
cians, as of theologians, to transcend experience has but resulted
in absurdity. The restrictions imposed by our faculties cannot
be removed. Although we cannot explain the unexplainable,
our examination has sufficed to show the untenable position both
of the materialistic and the theistic metaphysic.

The materialist who claims that the sum of phenomena is
efficiently caused by a substance called matter simply speaks
without meaning. Matter, the phenomenon, exists, but matter,
the noumenon, does not. The theist who claims that the sum of
phenomena is caused by mind also speaks without meaning, if
he means, or attempts to mean, that mind is an efficient cause ;
whereas if he means that it is a sensible cause, he speaks with
out evidence No; creation is not the product of mind — it
is mind. The external universe is but the common mind of
sentient beings.

The significance of the first inductive postulate is now more
apparent. To make the assumption involved therein is to as
sume that the objects of experience which we observe are a
portion of that section of our minds which we share, or can
share, directly with other beings, and if we are mistaken in this
assumption, it is obvious that any expectations generated by said
objects of experience are devoid of validity and of no value to
ourselves or our fellow sentients.

The confusion in the meaning of the word existence which
apparently has misled metaphysicians, even some of the acutest
among them, such as Kant, to predicate existence of so-called
noumena or thin gs-in^th em selves, has in reality led to little, if
any, practical difficulty. To be sure, it has put philosophers
to much trouble, and led to the writing of thousands of pages
of meaningless propositions, but in practical affairs, the mean
ing of the word is so well known that the confusion of meta
physicians has had little effect upon the conduct of men. As
much cannot be said of the confusion which has always been
prevalent about the meaning of the word truth. But among
all words by the misunderstanding of which abominations have
been nurtured and disasters multiplied, the words right and
wrong must be assigned the first place. These words are so
immediately related to the mental processes which control the
conduct of man that their definition is more vital to his in
terests than any others to be found in language. Says Sidney
Smith :

100 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BooK I

" Definition of words has been commonly called a mere exercise
of grammarians: but when we come to consider the innumerable
murders, proscriptions, massacres, and tortures, which men have
inflicted on each other from mistaking the meaning of words
the exercise of definition certainly begins to assume rather a
more dignified aspect."

Let it be admitted that the words right and wrong must be
defined berore they can be useful and at once it becomes possible
to formulate a guide to conduct based on common sense alone
adequate to serve as the foundation of a moral system, as ap
plicable to public as to private acts, and at the same time com
pletely consistent with itself. Let men continue in the future,
as they have in the past, to be guided by the sound instead of
by the sense of their words, and two thousand years hence they
will be floundering as helplessly as they were two thousand years
ago when " the youth Socrates listened to the old Protagoras "
with so little profit. We have come a long way to reach our
original inquiry once more, but it will be worth the journey if it
has convinced us of the necessity of critically examining the
symbols by which thought, and through thought, conduct is
directed.

If there is a difference between right and wrong it must be
some particular difference. Tt will not do to define the words in
terms as vague as themselves. To adequately examine the sub
ject requires that we divest our minds of dogmatism and deter
mine the meanings of the words right and wrong by judgment
and not by feeling, just as we would determine the meanino- of
such words as tree, or rock, or apple pie. This attitude of mind
Js essential to the inquiry at hand, but unfortunately it seems
almost unattainable by the untrained, or even by the trained
faculties of men, so powerful are the obsessions which possess'
the mind in the domain of morals. However, we can do no
more than utter the warning — the inquiry must be undertaken
without prejudice or it might as well be abandoned at the out
set. We invite the reader to carefully watch for, and unre
servedly discount, any and all effects of moral prepossession as
hey may make themselves apparent in the anaLs which fol!
lows and we recommend that he analyze with 'equal care the
origin of the sentiments of approval or disapproval which he
views here expounded may arouse in himself

CHAPTEE III

UTILITY

Human acts may be divided for the convenience of our inquiry
into two classes: (1) Voluntary. (2) Involuntary. When a
person in acting can select one from two or more possible al
ternative acts, his act is voluntary; otherwise involuntary.

The term volition expresses the well recognized combination
of desire and expectation invariably present as an antecedent
to such acts as stepping over an obstruction in our path, bowing
to an acquaintance, or driving a nail — but invariably absent
as an antecedent to such acts as fainting, winking at a sudden
sound, or such as are performed by a victim of St. Vitus's dance.
Tested by Mill's second canon then, volition is recognized as
causally related to the first class of acts, but not to the second
class. Hence the first are called voluntary — the second in
voluntary acts. The latter class of acts have no part in this in
quiry.

Voluntary acts are either of the body or of the mind. In de
liberately entering upon a train of thought, we perform a vol
untary mental act. The attention is directed to a certain subject,
and the association of ideas carries the mind onward. The
voluntary acts most commonly discussed by psychologists are
those of the body. That which it is most important to note
about voluntary acts is that -Iliey are controlled by expectations.
In the absence of expectation it is clear that no act with a
purpose is possible.

When a sentient being voluntarily moves his arms or legs or
lips or any other part of his body, it is because he desires to
produce some other change, either in the external world about
him or in his own or other minds ; hence he must already have
had in mind an expectation of how his act would effect the
change desired, and if the expectation is a valid one it must
have been derived from a previous knowledge of cause and
effect — a knowledge only to be obtained by experience. Thus
we see why knowledge affects conduct. It is because voluntary
acts are controlled by expectations; and we see also how vital

101

102 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

it is that the expectations which thus control conduct shall he
valid ones, and as valid expectations are to be obtained by the
scientific method only, we are able to perceive how helpless an
individual or nation must be which attempts to distinguish
between valid and invalid expectations — between truth and
untruth — by an appeal to anything except common sense. Their
means will have no prospect whatever of being adapted to their
ends. It is because, and only because, of this intimate relation
between knowledge and conduct that we have been compelled to
make an analysis of the nature of knowledge. Eight and wron°-
are qualities present or absent in voluntary acts; truth and
untruth are qualities present or absent in expectations; expecta
tion^ control voluntary acts, and no one can understand the dis
tinction between right and wrong until lie understands the dis
tinction between truth and untruth. This will become clearer
when we have considered just how conduct is dependent upon
probability or presumption.

To avoid any misunderstanding at the start as to what we
are seeking, the distinction between character and conduct
should be noticed. Conduct consists of ;he voluntary acts of an
individual. Character is a cause of conduct, We shall first
direct our attention to the meanings of the words right and
wrong as they apply to conduct. We shall not neglect their
application to character, but shall postpone consideration of the
question in order to avoid a confusion of issues. The two in
quiries are closely related but separable.

Voluntary acts may be divided into two classes: (1) Rio-hf
(2) Not right. It is a common practice among- men to divide
the second class — the class of not right acts1 itself into two
classes, viz. : (a) Wrong, (b) Neither right nor wrong. This
provides three classes, in one of which every possible voluntary
act must fall, viz.: (1) Right. (2) Wrong. (3) Neither right
nor wrong. The existence of class 8 may be debated - that of
classes 1 and 2 is removed from the realm of debate bv the
admission that there is a difference in the meaning of the words
right and wrong Our inquiry now narrows itself to the

Should we ask a casual acquaintance whether it is wrong

a ,imiL T V ^^ r°plY that H i8> and he W™W matt
similar reply should we ask him whether it is wron- to lie

which h°mmi /Td -I' There are many other 'lasses Vacts
which he would classify as wrong. Should we then ask him why

CHAP. Ill] UTILITY 103

they are wrong, his reply would depend upon his intelligence
and training,, but we should probably receive one of four re
plies :

(1) That they are wrong because they are wrong.

(2) That they are wrong because they offend God.

(3) That they are wrong because they offend the conscience
of him who commits them.

(4) That they are wrong because they cause pain or pre
vent pleasure, or both.

If our acquaintance be mystically inclined he might say they
are wrong because they tend toward imperfection, or defeat the
ends of evolution, or violate natural or spiritual law, or are out
of harmony with the universe, or are inconsistent with the
higher life. Indeed it would be impossible to enumerate the
responses which might be received to such an inquiry, and were
we, in order to arrive at a solution of our problem, compelled
to consider them all, our task would be a hopeless one. No such
necessity, however, exists. Of such replies as those last sug
gested no notice need be taken. They belong to a class of ex
pressions which for all purposes of accurate inquiry are prac
tically meaningless, or if they have any ascertainable meaning,
it would, on examination, doubtless be found to be the same
as that involved in some one of the four replies first named.
We may say with Aristotle — "To sift all opinions would be
perhaps rather a fruitless task; so it shall suffice to sift those
which are most generally current, or thought to have some reason
in them."

Now of the four replies I have enumerated it is obvious that
the first is a mere reiteration of the original assertion and does
not answer the question. Yet it is probable that many, and
perhaps most, persons would be unable to give any better reply.
.Children and persons of untrained mind would be almost sure
to return such an answer. When we ask the question — Why
are these acts wrong? we are asking for some characteristic,
common to the several acts which leads men to apply to them a
common term, viz., wrong or wrong ness. To fail to mention
such a common characteristic then, is to fail to answer the ques
tion ; and indeed we may say that when we find the meaning of
the term wrongness, if it turns out to be the name of more
than one characteristic or combination of characteristics of an
act, it will prove it to be an equivocal term which should,
before it is used in discussion, or as a guide to conduct, be
separated into two or more terms. At any rate, it is obvious

104: THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I
that we shall not find the meaning of the word wrong in an-

When 'we turn to No. 2 we shall find that it affords as little
information useful for our purpose as No. 1, for if we inquire
how men are to know what acts offend God, and what do not,
we shall be informed that this knowledge is gained through
revelation. A revelation is, however, a local intuition, and as
local intuitions are not derived from a peithosyllogism, they
cannot be accepted as grounds of expectation or belief. In the
case of revelation it is particularly obvious that local intuitions
cannot lead to truth, since, if the various revelations upon which
the many theological systems of the present and past ages are,
or have been, founded are examined it will be found that the
acceptance of some necessitates the rejection of others. As
revelations claim to be above, and exempt from, deductive or
inductive test, it may -be admitted for the sake of argument that
no means are available whereby the validity of any may be
tested. Hence, if our judgment is unprejudiced, we shall esti
mate all revelations as equally valid; but as some are incon
sistent with others, some at least must be invalid ; therefore, an
impartial judgment must pronounce them all invalid. This
narrows the discussion to Nos. 3 and 4.

In ethics there are two main schools, each with its own view
of the nature of right and wrong — what may be called the in
tuitional school, and the utilitarian school. Those who adhere
to the first contend that men are able to tell the differ
ence between right and wrong by a so-called moral sense, just
as they would tell the difference between red and blue by the
sense of sight. The distinction is recognized by something like
an intuition, in that it is a law unto itself, recognizing no ex
trinsic authority. I shall therefore call them intuitionists.
They maintain that the distinction between right and wrong
is identical with that between conscientious and unconscientious ;
the approval of conscience being a test of right — its disap
proval a test of wrong. No. 3 therefore would represent the
answer of an intuitionist. As intuitionism will be fully con
sidered in Chapter 6, and its inadequacy as a standard of conduct
made evident, we need not discuss it here.

Those who adhere to the second school are called utilitarians.
No. 4 would represent the answer of a utilitarian, and by in
vestigation of the grounds upon which it is founded the real
difference between right and wrong may be discovered. I pro
pose therefore to make a critical examination of the sensations

CHAP. Ill] UTILITY 105

of pleasure and pain in order, if possible, to express the utili
tarian definitions of right and wrong with a precision heretofore
wanting.

The words happiness, pleasure, gratification, etc., have refer
ence to a characteristic of experience which, though perfectly
familiar, is indefinable. To one who had never experienced
pleasure the word could not be defined, because it is incapable of
expression in terms of other kinds of experience, just as we
could never explain what is implied by the words red or green
to a man unfamiliar with the sense of sight, or express the taste
of sugar in terms of sound. In short, it is an elementary ex
perience. The words unhappiness, pain, disagreeableness, etc.,
are likewise expressive of an elementary experience, familiar to
all, but indefinable. Both of these classes of sensation will be
found among elementary impressions in the table on page 15.
In spite of their familiarity, however, the words pleasure and
pain are somewhat indefinite. Many persons would make a dis
tinction between pleasure and comfort, for example ; they would
distinguish a condition which was painful from one which was
merely uncomfortable. But it would be conceded that an ex
perience sufficiently uncomfortable is painful; that is, a resem
blance is recognizable between an uncomfortable and a painful
experience, and as no resemblance will be perceived between
experiences which have nothing in common, it follows that pain
ful and uncomfortable experiences have some common quality.

What is implied by the word pain will be sufficiently exem
plified if we say that it is the sensation common to a toothache,
the taste of soap, the feeling of nausea, and the sensation ex
perienced on hearing of the death of a friend. In other words,
that in which all painful or disagreeable experiences of what
ever degree or kind from acute agony to mild discomfort, from
a bad taste to a sad thought, resemble one another, I shall in this
work denominate pain; it is the quality common to all so-called
painful or disagreeable experiences, and is the means by which
we recognize them as a distinct class of experiences, to be dis
tinguished from all others by this common quality.

Similarly the word pleasure will be sufficiently exemplified if
we say that it is the sensation common to melodious sounds, the
odor of roses, the taste of a good dinner, and the feeling experi
enced when one hears of a large legacy being left him — the last
not indeed universally familiar, but easily imaginable. That
is, I shall denominate by the word pleasure, the quality com
mon to all pleasurable experiences from the highest degree of

106 THE PEINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

happiness to the faintest element of satisfaction, from the
pleasure derived from the odor of a flower to that derived from
performing a virtuous act — the quality by which we recognize
pleasurable experiences as constituting a class distinguished
from all experiences in which the quality is absent. I shall
employ the words pleasure and happiness and pain and unliappi-
ness respectively, as synonyms in the implications thus illus
trated. As is obvious, mental and physical experiences of pain
and pleasure respectively are classed together, for mental un-
happiness and physical unhappiness, however divergent, must
have a common quality or we should perceive no resemblance
whatever between them, and the same is true of mental and
physical happiness

Keeping these meanings in mind, it may be said that most
of the experiences of men are either painful or pleasurable, but
there are also many which belong to a third category which we
may call neutral. With such experiences neither pain nor
pleasure is associated. As we descend in the animal scale neu
tral conditions of consciousness doubtless more and more pre
ponderate, until in such animals as oysters and worms they con
stitute almost the whole life of the animal.

Painful and pleasurable experiences, like other experiences,
have, in the first place, definite associates and a definite location
(p. 21). A point of particular interest to determine is in
what degree pleasure or pain may be abstracted from their
associates, for connected with this is the question of whether
these qualities vary in kind or not. There is a good deal of
confusion on this subject in ethics, and, as I apprehend, it arises
from uncertainty in the meaning of the word kind. Let us, for
brevity of expression, consider painful experiences only, in at
tempting to clear up this question.

That pain may be separated from some of its associates is so
plain as to require no particular consideration. If we are suf
fering say from rheumatism, and at the same time are reading a
book, we are in no danger of assuming that the experiences
involved in reading arc inseparably associated with rheumatism
When we compare what are commonly called Hnds of pain,
however, things are not so plain. In bad tastes and smells in
liscordant sounds and disagreeable sights, for example can we
abstract the pain from the sensations of taste, smell, sound and
ight respectively? Are we experiencing kinds of pain, as well
as kinds of taste, sound, etc., or are we experiencing pain ab-
stractably associated with taste, smell, touch and sight respec-

CHAP. Ill] UTILITY 107

tively? I think it may be said that, in some cases at least, we
may certainly abstract the pain from the associated sensations.
To anyone with eyes made sensitive by disease, even a moderate
light causes sharp pain; yet in time of health exactly the same
light causes no pain, and on comparison of the two experiences,
it is quite impossible to detect any difference in them (beside
the difference in co-ordinates) except that one is painful, the
other is not. In such a case, pain is clearly abstractable from
elements of experience with which it is closely associated, and
many other cases might be cited. When we come to pains of
touch, however, it is doubtful if pain much exceeding what we
should call discomfort can be abstracted, and pains of a high
degree of intensity, whatever their associates, appear to be un-
abstractable, at least generally. Pleasures are probably more
frequently abstractable than pains, but of both pain and pleasure
it is safe to say that they are sometimes abstractable and some
times not, and therefore, that they may vary in kind. The type
of unabstractability discussed in this connection is not identical
with that discussed in Chapter 1. Nevertheless the two qualities
are sufficiently similar to be classed together.

For convenience of expression I shall mean by a pain or a
pleasure a painful or pleasurable experience, and the words
pains and pleasures will be used as the plurals of a pain and a
pleasure and not of pain or pleasure. Pain is a quality, and a
single quality of experiences, and hence properly has no plural,
and the same is true of pleasure.

Besides their variation in association and location, pleasures
and pains may vary in two other ways — in intensity and in
duration. The expressions intensity of pain and intensity of
pleasure are evidently indefinable though easily exemplifiable.
So familiar are they, however, that no examples are required.
By the duration of a pain or pleasure I shall mean simply the
number of seconds, minutes, or other time units, which it en
dures. Pleasures and pains then, may vary (1) In association,
(2) In location, (3) In intensity, (4) In duration, and more
over they may vary in any one, any two, any three, or all four
ways at once.

It is a doctrine which has often been suggested that expecta
tions of pleasure and pain determine all the voluntary acts of
an individual, and by some this doctrine has been supposed to
be an essential part of utilitarian systems. Jeremy Bentham
held this view. He opens his essay on the Principles of Morals
and Legislation as follows:

108 THE PBINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

"Nature has placed mankind under the governance of two
sovereign masters, pain and pleasure. It ,1s for them alone to point
out what we ought to do, as well as to determine what we shall
do. On the one hand the standard of right and wrong, on the
other the chain of causes and effects are fastened to their throne.
They govern us in all we do, in all we say, in all we think; every
effort we can make to throw off our subjection will serve but
to demonstrate and confirm it. In words a man may pretend
to adjure their empire: but in reality he will remain subject to
it all the while. The principle of utility recognizes this sub
jection, and assumes it for the foundation of that system, the
object of which is to rear the fabric of felicity by the hands of
reason and of law."

I believe such a supposition to be erroneous. Certainty quan
tities of pain or pleasure (p. 114) are not invariable deter
minants of acts, though immediate intensities may be. It would,
however, take an extended induction to establish such a princi
ple. Acts are often determined by habit, or by impulses, the
quantity of pleasure or pain involved in which have no par
ticular value in determining the act. Later philosophers ob
serving that Bentham had fallen into error in his primary as
sumption as to the universality of pleasure and pain as motives
have concluded that his whole system in consequence must fall!
This conclusion is too hasty. The nature of right and wrono-
and the nature of what motives do, as a matter of fact, actuate
men, are two distinct subjects of inquiry. Separating 'them is
all the difference between what is and what ought to be. But
although many acts are not determined by considerations of
pleasure or pain, it is an obvious fact that many are, and it is
of interest to inquire in those cases in which pleasure and pain
do decide voluntary acts, just what relation the kind, intensity
duration, and location of the pains and pleasures involved bear
to the decision.

In order to determine this let us imagine a bein^ invariably
guided by motives of pleasure and pain to whose attention are
presented two and only two experiences, both painful, to one
ol which he H by physical necessity constrained to submit, and
between which he is called upon to choose. Call the experiences
Let us assume (1) that A and B are precisely alike
> kind, duration, and location, but differ in intensity A
having greater intensity than B. Which will our imaginary
being prefer; that is, which will he voluntarily select? Obvi
ously B. Assume (2) A and B to be exactly alike as 'to kind

CHAP. Ill] UTILITY 109

intensity and location, but different in duration, A having greater
duration than B. Again he will select B. To these conclusions
I deem everyone will agree. Assume (3) A and B to be alike as
to intensity, duration and location, but different in kind. Which
then will he select? To this question we should at first be in
clined to reply "That depends upon his taste; some kinds of
pain would be selected by some people, other kinds by others."
This is doubtless so, but suppose we should ask a person who,
under these conditions, said he preferred A to B, why he pre
ferred it. Would he not reply that it * -as because the kind of
pain involved in A was less painful or disagreeable to him than
that involved in B? He certainly would not prefer it because
it was more painful. Now to say that B is more painful than
A is to say that B differs from A in intensity, or duration
of pain, or in both; but on our assumption A and B do not
differ in intensity or duration, but only in kind. Hence A and
B must be equally painful. Under these circumstances it is
safe to assert that between A and B there would be no prefer
ence — our supposed being would have no choice between them.
A selection between such alternatives could be made only on
grounds which have nothing to do with the pleasure or pain
involved therein and this sort of choice is precluded by our
hypothesis. The idea that kinds of pain or pleasure commonly
determine acts is a wide-spread but erroneous one. The error
involved will, I believe, be more clearly apprehended by reading
what is said on page 296, Chapter 7. Assume (4) that A and B
are alike in intensity, duration, and kind, but differ in loca
tion, and let us suppose that B is further in the future than A,
i. e., more remote, in time, from the moment of decision. Would
these data be sufficient to enable us to predict the decision of
our supposed being? Let us examine the three possible cases:
(A) He might have no choice, a fact so obvious that we need
not discuss it: (B) He might prefer A to B : or (C) He might
prefer B to A. Suppose he preferred A to B. Should he be
asked the reason for his preference, his reply probably would
be that he would in this way get the pain over the sooner. Sup
pose he preferred B to A. Should he again be asked the reason
for his preference, he would doubtless reply that he dreaded the
experience, and hence desired to postpone it as long as possible.
It is a matter of familiar experience that decisions on both
these grounds are of frequent occurrence in daily life. No oth
ers occur to me which appear to depend upon the location of
painful experiences, and upon their location alone. It is plain,

110 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

however, that it is not location isolated from its effects which
induces them. Examination of our own minds convinces us
that when intensity or duration of pain influences our decisions,
it is not because they are causes of something we would avoid;
it is because they are something we would avoid ; but this is not
the case with decisions determined by location. Hence while
location itself may never determine acts, yet considerations in
separable from it sometimes do. Such decisions I shall regard
as determined by location, since for the purposes of this analy
sis the distinction is of no consequence. Nevertheless, the fact
that decisions, and deliberate decisions, on both the grounds
mentioned are a matter of common occurrence, confirms what
we have already asserted — that degrees of pleasure and pain
do not always decide acts, for although the first at foundation
is a- decision based upon considerations of the magnitude of pain,
the second certainly is not.

Prom this examination then, it appears that when pains alone
determine acts it is always either the intensity, the duration, or
the location in time of the pain, and never the kind which con
trols the decision.

Let us next assume two painful experiences A and B, which
do not vary in location, and which therefore determine prefer
ence according to their intensity or duration or both, to vary
both in intensity and duration. Two cases are possible: (1)
One is greater in both duration and intensity than the other,
say A than B, (2) One is greater in intensity than the other,
but less in duration. In the first case it is obvious that B
would be preferred. In the second case it is equally obvious
that we shall have no grounds for decision until we know the
relative degrees of intensity and duration. Both elements of
experience have very various degrees. How shall we express
them ? It is a simple matter to express degrees of duration.
They may be expressed in seconds, minutes, hours, days, or any
other convenient unit, and greater or less duration may be in
dicated very exactly by the greater or less number of units em
ployed in its expression. But has anyone ever heard of a unit
of intensity of pain? I think not. To suggest such a thing
would to many persons appear grotesque. Yet in daily life we
frequently compare one degree of intensity with another; we
speak of slight, moderate, considerable, great, and agonizing
pain, and by various qualifying adjectives may express interme
diate degrees of intensity. Such modes of expression suggest
that a scale of intensity might be constructed which would ex -

CHAP. Ill] UTILITY 111

press degrees of intensity, as seconds, minutes, etc., express de
grees of duration, and as inches, feet, etc., express those of
length. A unit is simply a convenience for comparing different
magnitudes of the same kind. To be sure, some units cannot
be very accurately determined and among them one of pain
intensity would have to be included ; but the question of the ac
curacy of a unit and of its utility need not be confounded,
though doubtless the more accurately determined a unit, the bet
ter. Nevertheless, as I think I can make some matters plainer
by the use of such a unit, I shall adopt one. A unit and a
mode of using it may, I believe, be suggested which will permit
us to compare and express pain intensities with more accuracy
at least, than such terms as slight, great, acute, etc., express
them. Suppose our unit to be the intensity of pain, (in its
generic sense of course) produced by placing upon the tip' of
the tongue one centigram of sulphate of quinine. The taste is
one of intense bitterness. Should we take, say a whole gram
and communicate the taste to the whole of the tongue and roof
of the mouth, the intensity of pain caused thereby would be
very considerable. Should the reader care to test the unit of
intensity given, he may readily do so. To render it more
definite we may call the unit of intensity the average intensity
felt between the fifth and fifteenth second after placing the
drug on the tongue; and the unit thus defined let us call a
patlion, (Gr.7ra0os=pain).

I am aware that the intensity of pain produced by the means
suggested would be different in different people, but except in
rare cases, I do not think it would be very different, and with
the same person, it would be different at different times. As
psychological investigations have shown, the sensibility of per
sons to agencies producing either pain or pleasure varies with
various vital conditions — the state of health, the rapidity of
circulation, the activity of the senses, and the stimulus at the
moment applied to them, etc., and even depends upon what the
person had for dinner and how many hours he slept Jhe night
before. We may, however, by keeping these causes of variation
sensibly constant very nearly eliminate the error and render
the unit sufficiently accurate for practical purposes. As I shall
draw no conclusions the validity of which will depend upon the
accurate determination of pain or pleasure intensities any at
tempt to fix an accurate unit would be superfluous. At any
rate, the unit suggested is only one of many which might be
suggested.

112 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BooK I

Let us suppose now we desire to estimate the intensity of a
certain pain at a certain moment in terms of this unit. As most
pains vary in intensity from moment to moment we must of
course, confine our attention to their intensity at some particular
moment, or if we desire the average intensity over a certain
definite interval, we may, if we please, direct our attention to
the estimation of such an average intensity. Assume that we de
sire to estimate the intensity of a headache at its height. As
sume further that the headache is over and that we estimate its
intensity from memory. To determine it we should ask our
selves this question : " What is the greatest number of minutes

for which you would endure the pain of unit intensity one

pathon — rather than endure that of the headache for one min
ute ? ; After weighing the question, suppose we should answer
— one. What would this tell us about the intensity of the pain ?
Clearly, it would show that it was of intensity one pathon, or
unit intensity, i. e., of the same intensity as the unit, since
we estimate that between suffering the headache for one minute
and suffering the unit intensity of pain for the same time there
is no choice. Suppose our answer to have been five. This would
indicate a headache of greater intensity than the first answer in
dicated, since it would mean that between suffering the head
ache for one minute, and suffering the unit . intensity of pain
for a period five times as long there would be no choice
Could we correctly say that the pain of the headache was five
times as intense? This would depend upon what the phrase
five times or n times as intense means. I am not aware that,
in this connection, such a phrase has ever been given a definite
meaning. Therefore, I consider myself entitled to give it one
and I shall mean by the intensity of a given pain the greatest
number of time units (minutes for instance) for which we
would endure the unit intensity of pain in preference to en
during the given pain for one time unit. The unit of time
we use is obviously a matter of indifference, provided it be not
so short that our experience would give us no means of makino-
use of it in comparison. For example, were we asked to repre^
sent in memory the difference between an experience of anv
kind painful or otherwise, lasting one one-hundredth of a
second and one lasting two one-hundredths, we probably could
not do it without special training. By this definition then a
painful experience, physical or mental, mav be said to have
intensity n at the moment M if n is the greatest number of
minutes (or other units of time) for which we would endure

CHAP. Ill] UTILITY 113

unit intensity of pain (one pathon) in preference to enduring
that of the given painful experience (assuming its intensity to
remain the same as at the moment M) for one minute, (or other
time unit). If n = 5 then the pain is of intensity 5 or five
times as intense as unit intensity. If n = £, then the intensity
is £, etc. Of course, intensities represented by fractions are
those of pains whose intensity is less than, and therefore pre
ferable to, unit intensity. From this example the mode of
measuring the average intensity of pain over a given interval
will be obvious.

Using the above method of estimating intensities, we might
under different circumstances arrive at very different estimates.
Suppose, for example, that in the first case cited we had given
our estimate as to the intensity of our headache at the very time
we were experiencing it, instead of estimating from memory,
and suppose then and there we applied to our tongue the centi
gram of quinine in the manner specified, and thus compared
the experiences direct; we should obviously be in a better posi
tion to estimate their relative intensities than if we made our
estimate from memory. We might, under these conditions, by
careful attention, estimate the intensity of the headache to be
only four instead of five. Similarly if we were asked to esti
mate how much higher one building was than another we
should be able to come nearer the truth if we saw them side by
side than if we had to compare their heights from the memory
of how each had appeared to us separately. What then do we
mean by the numerical value of a pain intensity? What con
ditions shall we specify as those under which our estimate of
intensity shall be considered the correct one? We can only
answer this by saying — under those in which the opportunity
of comparing the given intensity with the unit intensity is most
perfect. Just what these conditions are we do not know, and
never shall know completely, but we do know some of them,
and psychological investigation will doubtless, in the future,
permit us to approximate them more and more nearly. This
may to some persons appear like an admission that the evalua
tion of pain intensities is impossible. It is, if we mean their
perfect evaluation, but this is not what we mean. Pain in
tensities can never be more than estimated or approximated;
but then, this is true of the evaluation of all quantities what
ever, though some may be approximated more closely than
others. The period of rotation of the earth, equal to one sidereal
day, may, with the help of a chronograph, be measured to within
8

114 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [Boon I

a hundredth of a second, or with an error of little less than
00.00001 per cent. On the other hand, the distance of the star
Sirius can, with the best instruments, be measured only to
within some hundreds of billions of miles, involving an error
which may be as much as thirty or forty per cent, and our
estimate of the distance of stars with a less parallax may not
be nearer the truth than several hundred per cent. The in-
definiteness of the unit then need not concern us, since we
have discussed it more with the intention of attaining clear ap
prehension than for any other object. The fact that it is
theoretically measurable is sufficient for our purposes, and hav
ing established the concept of intensity as a measurable mag
nitude, we are now in a position to define quantity of pain.

Quantity of pain and quantity of pleasure are the most impor
tant magnitudes known to sentient beings. By them the im
portance of all other magnitudes, and of all other experiences,
actual or possible, always should be judged. Quantity of pain
varies directly as the intensity and the duration, and is measured
~by the product of the intensity into the duration. Hence if, in
any painful experience, P represents the average intensity ex
pressed in pathons and M the duration expressed in minutes, the
quantity will be represented by P x M pathon-minutes. In just
the same way, if we desire to measure the quantity of energy
yielded in a given time by a steam engine we must know the
power, or intensity of work, and the duration, or the time during
which the power is exerted. Thus if the power is P horse-power,
and the duration T minutes, the quantity of energy will be rep
resented by P x T horse-power-minutes. What in the theory of
units are known as the dimensions of energy are thus strictly
comparable to what with propriety may be called the dimensions
of pain (and pleasure). The intensity of painful experiences
may be called the intensity dimension, the duration may be
called the capacity dimension, and a similar distinction obtains
in the case of pleasurable experiences.

As we have noted, preference varies inversely as duration in
painful experiences whose intensity is the same. Therefore, it is
obvious that preference as between two or more painful ex
periences of the same location is determined by quantity alone.
Reverting now to the question on page 110 we see that the answer
depends upon whether A or B yields the greater quantity of
pain. If A gives the greater quantity, then B is preferred and
vice versa; or in general, if A and B are two painful experiences,
and Pj Po arc their respective intensities, and Mj M2 their re

CHAP. Ill] UTILITY 115

spective durations, A will be preferred to B when P± Mt < P2 M2
and B preferred to A when P± Mj > P2 M2. This is merely assert
ing in mathematical language that a person when choosing
between two painful experiences of the same location, and
considering the pain involved in them alone, will always choose
that which is less painful. It may seem as if we had come
rather a long road merely to reach this simple and readily
admitted result, but the utility of taking the long road will
appear later. In order to comprehend the utilitarian doctrine,
the relation of intensity to quantity of pain or pleasure must
be recognized as well as the fact that, in common with proba
bilities, they are definite measurable magnitudes like time,
length, area, or weight.

We have now, I believe, examined every possible case in which
preference is determined by the consideration of painful ex
periences only, and find, in general, that it is independent of
the kind of experience, and — with the exceptions noted — of
its location in time, but is dependent upon, and generally de
termined by, the quantity of pain involved, the smaller quan
tity always being preferred to the greater.

If now we examine pleasurable experiences or pleasures, we
shall find that they also may vary in four different ways —
in intensity, in duration, in kind, in location — in this respect
being similar to painful ones; and again preference is de
termined, in general, by quantity of pleasure; but while we
prefer the less quantity of pain, we prefer the greater quantity
of pleasure. Corresponding to this antithesis, a correlated ex
ception is found depending upon location, for it is a frequent
experience that quantity of pleasure is sometimes sacrificed,
in order to obtain immediate rather than remote realization,
and such sacrifice, whatever we may think about its wisdom,
is evidently deliberate.

We might, if we pleased, devise a unit of pleasure, as we
have one of pain, and thus measure intensities and quantities of
pleasure as we did similar magnitudes in the case of pain.
We shall, however, adopt a more convenient method of meas
urement. Admitting that, in general, of two pains we prefer
that least in quantity, and of two pleasures that greatest in
quantity, let us next inquire how preference is determined when
we choose between experiences of pain and pleasure.

Two cases are recognizable: (1) When the alternatives are
such that location in time may enter into the decision, (2)
When they are not. The first class of cases are indeterminate,

116 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

because no universal rule is discoverable which will inform us
when, in the decisions of a fallible being, location will prevail
and when it will not. Therefore Class (1) need not be dis
cussed. Class (2) is divisible into four cases: (a) When one
alternative involves pain and no pleasure: the other pleasure
and no pain, (b) When both alternatives involve both pleasure
and pain, (c) When one alternative involves pleasure only:
the other both pleasure and pain, (d) When one alternative
involves pain only: the other both pleasure and pain.

In case (a) it will be readily admitted that the second alter
native involving pleasure but no pain will be preferable.

Case (b) requires more careful discussion. Suppose two
alternatives A and B to be alike in the kind, location, and dura
tion of their pleasure arid pain, but different in the relative
intensity of each. For example, alternative A might be that
of listening to a concert one hour long while suffering from a
headache whose average intensity, let us say, is J pathon.
Alternative B, an experience exactly similar except that the
headache has an intensity 1 pathon. It is obvious that in this
case, alternative A in which the pleasure is the same while the
pain is only one-half that of B will be preferred. Let us now
suppose the headache of the same average intensity, but one con
cert to be one hour and one-half in length — the other, one
hour; that is, the kinds, 'locations and relative intensities1 are
the same, but the durations are different. We have seen that
when pleasure alone is concerned the greater duration is pre
ferred to the less, whereas when pain alone is concerned the
contrary is the case. How is it when pleasure and pain both
are involved ? The answer can be obtained only by consulting
our own minds. Any one so doing will, I believe, answer the
question by saying that if the average intensity of pleasure
during the interval is more than equivalent to the average in
tensity of pain, the longer interval will be preferred : if it is
less than equivalent, the shorter interval. But what do we
mean by equivalent? The expression appears to imply that
pain intensities and pleasure intensities may be compared with
respect to their magnitude, and it is probable that if we ex
amine into the process of comparison as it actually occurs in

1 The relative intensities could, in practice, hardly remain the same
under the conditions named, owing to the operation of a cause discussed
in Chapter 7, but we will suppose in the longer concert the music to be
somewhat better, so that the average intensity of pleasure afforded by
it remains the same as in the shorter concert.

CHAP. Ill] UTILITY 117

our experience we shall agree that the nature of equivalence
may be expressed thus: When a given pleasurable experience
bears a relation to a given painful experience of equal dura
tion., such that, in order to attain the first, we would be willing
to undergo an amount of pain equal to, but not exceeding, the
second, then the intensity of pleasure involved in the first ex
perience is equivalent to the intensity of pain involved in the
second. If this be so, we may dispense with the necessity of
formulating a separate unit of pleasure intensity and use for our
unit that intensity which is equivalent to a pathon. This we
may call an anti-pathon or hedon (Gr. fj&ovrj = pleasure) and if
we refer to page 112 and there recall how pain intensities are
compared with each other, we shall see that two pathons are
equivalent to two hedons, and in general, that n pathons are
equivalent to n hedons, where n represents any positive number,
integral or fractional; and just as a pathon is equivalent to
a hedon in intensity, so a pathon-minute or hour is equivalent
to a hedon-minute or hour in quantity. In fact, pain stands in
the same relation to pleasure that a negative quantity stands to
a positive. Both may be measured by units of the same kind,
but opposite in sign. Thus we may condense the separate units
of pleasure and pain into one and call it a pathedon; if positive
it expresses pleasure, if negative, pain. 'Pain intensities and
quantities may be compared with pleasure intensities and quan
tities by means of preference, just as we compare the relative
intensities of pleasure or of pain with one another, and any
uncertainty found in the one unit will be found in the other.

Suppose now in the question under discussion, the average
intensity of pain to be x pathons and of pleasure y hedons,
then we may answer the question by saying that if x is greater
than y in numerical magnitude, we shall prefer the shorter
concert, if y is greater than x, the longer. It is obvious that
in the first case, we should experience a less surplus of pain
by selecting the shorter duration, and in the second a greater
surplus of pleasure by selecting the longer, and the surplus is
one of quantity in each case. In fact, it follows generally that
of two or more alternatives, involving both pleasure and pain,
similar in location, that one is preferred which involves the
greatest surplus of pleasure, or if none involve a surplus of
pleasure, that one is preferred which involves the least sur
plus of pain. These considerations enable us to perceive that
case (a) is merely a particular example of case (b) ; for
a purely pleasurable experience is one in which the pleasure

118 THE PBINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

is expressed by some positive number of hedon-minutes, while
the pain is expressed by 0 pathon-minutes, while an experience
purely painful would be one the pain of which would be ex
pressible by some positive number of pathon-minutes, and the
pleasure of which would be expressible by 0 hedon-minutes.
With these considerations clearly in mind., we may under case
(b) (p. 116) class the possible subordinate cases as follows:

(1) Quantities of pain and pleasure equivalent: no surplus
of pain or pleasure — no preference.

(2) Equal surplus of pain — no preference.

(3) Equal surplus of pleasure — no preference.

(4) Unequal surplus of pain :

(a) A greater surplus than B — B preferred.

(b) B greater surplus than A — A preferred.

(5) Unequal surplus of pleasure :

(a) A greater surplus than B — A preferred.

(b) B greater surplus than A — B preferred.

(6) A surplus of pleasure: B surplus of pain — A preferred.

(7) B surplus of pleasure: A surplus of pain — B preferred.

Like case (a), cases (c) and (d) may be considered special
examples of case (b) in which the pleasure or pain of one
alternative is reduced to zero, and are governed by the same
principles. That is, under the conditions specified, preference
is always determined by quantity — pleasure prevailing over
pain, the greater pleasure over the less, and the less pain over
the greater.

It seems from our examination beginning on page 108 that in
the very numerous cases in which preference is determined by
considerations of pleasure and pain alone, (cases so numerous
that some writers have suggested that they include all cases of
the determination of preference), that preference is never de
termined by the kind of pleasure and pain, but always by quan
tity or location in time, and when determined by location, imme
diate pleasures and remote pains are, at least among the less
deliberative beings, generally preferred to remote pleasures and
immediate pains. The most frequently occurring and con
spicuous cases of this sacrifice of quantity to location are those
in which a small but immediate benefit is preferred to a great
but remote one, and those in which an alternative involving an
immediate temporary pain, and a remote but permanent pleas
ure, is rejected for one involving less or no pain, but also less
or no pleasure. Many examples of such decisions will occur

CHAP. Ill] UTILITY 110

to everyone. They are generally regarded as due to lack of
foresight on the part of those making them, and indeed are far
more common among animals, children, and ignorant persons
than among beings more mature and farseeing. Among adults,
sometimes considerations of quantity, sometimes those of loca
tion prevail, depending much upon the degree of remoteness
of the benefits or injuries involved, as well as upon the magni
tude of the surplus of the pleasure or pain. As the experience
of men increases and their decisions become more deliberate,
preference tends more and more to be decided by the sign or
quantity of the surplus alone, pleasure always prevailing over
pain, the less pain over the greater, and the greater pleasure
over the less, independent of location. On the other hand, to
beino-s governed more by impulse than by judgment, location is
mor? often the controlling factor. Such a relation between ma
turity of judgment and the character of the motives controlling
acts suggests a significant distinction.

In the foregoing analysis it has been our endeavor to learn
by what characteristics of painful or pleasurable experiences
preference is determined. Would it be proper to inquire if
these characteristics are those by which it should or ought to
be determined? In this class of decisions does what is coincide
with what ought to be? In order that the question may be
answered without prejudice, at this point, I suggest that the
reader if so inclined, reinspect the various cases we have cited,
and himself decide which he thinks, on grounds of pure self-
interest, are correct, and which incorrect decisions — which
should, and which should not be made — remembering that these
are the decisions of a being acting in his own interest alone,
since by our hypothesis acts affecting the interests of other
bein-s are not among those physically possible. There can
be little doubt of the result of such an inspection. Ihose m
which quantity determines preference will be pronounced nght
or correct decisions; those in which location determines it,
wrong or incorrect. In other words, a man should, when
acting in his own interest, select that alternative which yields
the |reatest quantity of pleasure, if any can yield pleasure,
and if none can, then he should select that yielding the
least quantity of pain. Those whose decisions are otherwise
determined are said to act against their own interest -
decisions are said to be different from what they shou d, 01 : ought
to be This is the simplest common sense, and will, 1 believe,
be universally admitted. In short, the use of the terms

120 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

right, wrong, should and ought, correct and incorrect, in the
above connection will be conceded to be in general conformity
with usage. If so, we have a generally conceded meaning of
these words as applied to a very numerous and important class
of voluntary acts, viz. a right act, or the one among the possible
alternatives which should be selected, is that act resulting in the
greatest surplus of pleasure, if pleasure be attainable, or if it
be unattainable, then it is that resulting in the least surplus of
pain. A wrong act is a not-right act, or one selected from con
siderations different from those which determine the selection
of a right act. As numerous illustrations of right and wrong
decisions of this character will occur to the reader, none need
be cited here. If, however, he will consider a number of such
llustrations an important characteristic of them all will be
obvious. None of them appear to involve the fulfilment or viola
tion of any moral obligation, or to be a matter with which con
science has any concern. In other words, although they involve
a distinction between what should be and what should not be
— between right and wrong acts or decisions — they involve no
istmction between conscientious acts and unconscientious
Hence we should feel inclined to express this distinction
is one between correct and incorrect acts rather than between
right and wrong ones. The significance of this peculiarity of
terms expressive of acts affecting the interests of one person
only, will become apparent in Chapter 6.

In the foregoing discussion we have considered experiences
involving pain, pleasure, or both, as the determinants of prefer-
wh£h 1 •£ . f Cmativf Were between tw° spline experiences
fm

f ?ther in kind alone> intensity alone,
°n al°ne °r uan alone> ^d such a

ode of r , > one> ^ suc

mode of investigation was necessary in order to discover i

et ,±r;ecteriftics-f p]rrable OT painful ^S^

ern preference for if we had considered particular experiences

ame time * h'^' ^fr durati"d ^cation" at tie
time, we obviously could not have learned by which of
these characteristi cs preference was determined. ll ±*Ve°r

and

perience oo •

)iscontmuity of consciousness occurs, o course

ftff?S
- *

perience contemplated by itself, and in the fore^oin °W -^
we have not placed any restriction upon the duraTi^of

CHAP. Ill] UTILITY 121

this portion ; for anything we have said, any of the experiences
cited may have lasted as well a year as a second. It is true
that we have not specifically discussed the effect of a series of
discontinuous painful or pleasurable experiences, but I an
ticipate no traverse of the assertion that whether the experi
ences are continuous or discontinuous, dependent or independent,
the testimony of consciousness informs us that preference under
the conditions postulated, is determined by the principles which
have been pointed out, and moreover, these are as applicable
when three, four, ten, or an indefinite number of alternatives
are open to us, as they are when the alternatives are confined
to two. That is, in deciding between two or more experiences
involving pleasure or pain, or both, to ourselves alone, that one
should be selected which involves the greatest algebraic surplus
of pleasure. This may be considered in the nature of a uni
versal moral intuition, because it is independent of all local,
fortuitious, or transient determinants of preference. I shall
call it the LAW OR PRINCIPLE OP PREFERENCE.

In addition to the principles established, but one postulate is
required to enable us to represent diagrammatically the variation
of happiness throughout the life of an individual, viz. that at
every moment of his life the intensity of the pleasure or pain
felt is of some particular value (which may be zero), and I ap
prehend no dissent from such a proposition ; for the only alter
native would be to assert that it was of no particular value;
in other words, was of two or more values at the same time —
an assertion of doubtful intelligibility.

Keeping in mind then the definition of our unit of intensity
given on page 111, let us attempt to construct in Fig. 5 a dia
gram representing the course of the life of an individual, so far
as it involves pleasure or pain, for one day of twenty-four
hours. Distances measured horizontally, or along the X axis,
(X — X) represent periods of time, and the twenty-four di
visions into which the diagram is divided by vertical lines, each
represent an hour in that day; the line marked Y — Y (the
Y axis) representing noon, the morning hours being represented
to the left, the afternoon hours to the right of the noon line.
Intensities are measured vertically, pleasure being represented
by distances above the X axis, pain by distances below it. The
heavy horizontal lines divide the diagram into pathedons, those
measured above the line being positive, those below negative.
Points on the X axis represent zero intensity, or a condition
where neither pain nor pleasure is experienced. At times when

122 TllK PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SKNSH [BOOK I

w

>
~
hJ
o

/
,/
K
._

PM
--
<j

pq
W

Pathedons

CHAP. Ill] UTILITY 123

pain and pleasure are felt simultaneously the value recorded
represents the difference of intensity, or resultant. It is clear
then, from the postulate formulated on the preceding page,
that for every moment of time in the life of the given individ
ual during the day represented there is a pain or pleasure
intensity of some particular value which may he represented
on the diagram by a perpendicular erected at the point on
the X axis representing that moment. If the intensity is one
of pleasure, the perpendicular will he in a positive direction
or upward from the X axis; if it is one of pain, it will he
downward or negative: the length of the perpendicular will
represent the degree of intensity of pleasure or pain.

Suppose now such a perpendicular to be erected at points
representing, say every second during the twenty-four hours,
and that a line be drawn connecting the ends of these perpen
diculars. A curve more or less like that in the diagram would
thus be traced, and would represent completely the variation
of pleasure and pain of that individual during that day. The
interpretation of the curve is very simple. If we suppose it to
represent the life of a clerk, say on some normal business day,
we see that for the first seven hours the curve is coincident with
the X axis, representing a condition painless and plcasureless
— in fact, we may easily infer that during those hours he was
asleep, and that his sleep was dreamless. He awakes at seven,
and the anticipation of a good breakfast, together with the
bodily well being that is felt in health, causes the curve to rise
slightly while he is dressing. The considerable rise from eight
to eight-thirty indicates the breakfast hour, which is evidently
a satisfactory one. Going to his daily work, which if it is that
of the average clerk is uninteresting enough, pleasure gives
place to indifference, and then to a condition to which uncon
sciousness is preferable — the curve crosses the X axis and for
about three hours he drudges at his task with slight fluctua
tions of ennui until the approach of the noon hour, when an
ticipation of freedom and lunch causes the curve to recross
the X axis and assume positive values again. These increase
during the meal, for in healthy persons eating is an enjoyable
occupation. The afternoon is a repetition of the morning, and
the curve gradually rising, rccrosses the X axis about five
o'clock. At five-thirty he leaves his place of business and has
dinner between six and six-forty-five. We will suppose that
he reads and talks to his family in the evening, which accounts
for the distinctly positive values of the curve from dinner time

124 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [Boon I

to eleven o'clock. Supposing him to get to sleep at eleven-
forty-five, the clay closes as it began with the curve coincident
with the X axis.

It is obvious that curves of this character, sufficiently mag
nified could be made to show every fluctuation in the intensitv
of happiness of every sentient being during every day of its
life. The curve given is purposely made very simple, and
is intended merely as an example. Owing to our assumption of
good health and freedom from all care the curve expresses
(algebraically) greater happiness than on normal days would be
experienced. It incidentally expresses also, what I believe to be
probably true, that in the life of the average working indi
vidual more pleasure is obtained from eating than from any
other one source, and perhaps than from all other sources com
bined.

_The happiness curve thus exemplified expresses not only
diurnal variations of pleasure and pain intensity, but also the
quantities of pleasure and pain experienced during the day
recorded, and expresses them as accurately as it does their in
tensities. To discover how this is, let us examine the curve
shown in Fig. 5 between ten and eleven A. M. and suppose for
the sake of clearness, that between these hours the degree of
pain (or boredom) remains constant This would, of course
be represented by the curve remaining parallel with the X axis
and below it. Now as quantity of pain (or pleasure) is pro
portional to intensity and duration, it is proportional to their
product, and using the units defined on page 117 it is equal to
their product. It is therefore equal to the area represented on
the curve by x, x2 a b, since this, on our assumption, must
be a rectangle whose area is equal to the intensity measured by
xx a, multiplied by the duration, measured by Xl x Not only
does this represent the quantity of pain experienced between ten
and eleven A. M., but by an inspection of the diagram we see
that the intensity is - £ pathedon and is constant. An in
tensity of -£ pathedon experienced for one hour will give a
quantity of - i pathcdon-hours or -12 patbcdon-minutes and
hence the diagram not only represents to the eve the quantity of
pain thus experienced, but gives us the means of expressing it in
definite units. If now we suppose the rectangle x, x! a b
divided by vertical lines into sixty equal rectangles, the area of
each of these will represent.- £ pathedon-minute, and in each
these, as m the larger rectangle, the quantity of pain ex-

CHAP. Ill] UTILITY 125

perienced during a particular time interval is seen to be repre
sented by an area on the diagram bounded by the curve, the
X axis, and the two vertical lines (ordinates) representing the
pain intensities at the beginning and end of the interval re
spectively. We have shown that this must be true of an in
terval during which the intensity remains constant. By using
the methods of the integral calculus it may be shown that the
rule is equally valid when the intensity is continuously varying;
that is, the area between the curve, the X axis and the ordi
nates which mark off the given interval, will always be the
measure of the quantity of pain (or pleasure) whether constant
or continuously varying. This is proved in every work on
calculus — its demonstration would be out of place here — nor
need the reader fear that the demonstration would not apply
to such intangible things as pleasure and pain. The proof, as
given, applies to any unvarying or continuously varying suc
cession of magnitudes whatever their nature. All that we have
done in the above examination is to theoretically ascertain, in
a concrete case, the definite integral of happiness — in this
case negative, namely, the sum of all the successive quantities
of pain experienced by a sentient being between two definite
moments in time, and we have found it to be —12 pathedon-
minutes. The accuracy with which we may thus determine the
quantity of pain (or pleasure) by integration depends upon
how accurately the curve represents the actual variation of pain
or pleasure during the interval considered — and it depends
upon nothing else. It is obvious that the method explained
of obtaining the quantity of pain experienced between any two
moments in time is equally available in obtaining quantities of
pleasure, so that by measuring on Fig. 5 the several areas be
tween the curve and the X axis above that axis — the positive
areas — we may obtain the quantity of pleasure experienced
during the day by the individual whose life it represents. By
measuring the similar areas below the X axis — the negative
areas — we may obtain the quantity of pain experienced during
the same time. By subtracting the sum of the negative areas
from the sum of the positive areas, or vice versa, we shall get
the surplus of pleasure or pain, whichever it may be. In the
curve shown, the quantity of pleasure is 83 hedon-minutes, the
quantity of pain 108 pathon-minutes, giving a surplus of pain
of 25 pathon-minutes for the day.

At this point, I apprehend the reader may be inclined to
ask — What is the use of all this? Of what service can the

126 THE PRINCIPLES OE COMMON SENSE [Boon I

plotting of such imaginary data be ? It can but seek to repre
sent the unknown, if not the unreal. In reply to such criticism,
it may be said that the object for which the explanation is in
troduced does not depend for its fulfilment upon an accurate
knowledge of any particular curve, and is therefore unaffected
by the uncertainty incident to any attempt to plot one. It is
introduced primarily to give our 'ideas precision and to enable
us to comprehend the exact meaning which we intend givino- the
words right and wrong. The fact then that no one has in his
or her possession the data for accurately constructing such a
curve is of small consequence. All we require to know is that
throughout the life of every sentient being the succession of
values which the pain or pleasure intensities assume are definite
values, and would, therefore, if plotted, result in a curve havino-
the characteristics pointed out. We do not need to know what
the values are, but only that they are definite or particular
values, and this it would be very difficult to deny. It certainly
does not follow from the fact that the values of these intensities
are unknown that they therefore have no values If so we
should be justified in asserting that because we do not know
the number of horses, or cows, or sheep, in the United States
that therefore there is no particular number; or that because
the distance of the polar star from the earth is unknown that
; is therefore at no particular distance. What Professor
Donkm says about the practical difficulty of accurately express
ing degrees of belief or expectation applies equallv well to the
difficulty of expressing degrees of intensity of pain and pleas
ure. He says:

definite0 s£°tl *% Tr"?^ ^°ll?d U Can be doilbted th*t every

no one doubts that it is capable of numerical expression."" '

It is apparent then that such a curve as we have reoresented
would be constructible, had we the requisite knoSe for
every sent.ent bc,ns in creation during every hour of its' life

Suppose a sentient and intelligent being to be able to forecast
the course of the curve for the day nelt ensuing in his own

" Philosophical Magazine." 4th Series, Vol. 1, p. 354.

CHAP. Ill] UTILITY 127

life. Suppose him to discover that the sum of the negative
areas representing quantity of pain exceeds in magnitude the
sum of the positive areas representing quantity of pleasure.
Would he or would he not wish to live through such, a day?
that is, would he or would he not prefer such a day to oblivion
for an equal period ? Or suppose he had already lived through
the day, would he or would he not desire to live the day over
again, or rather, live over again a day in which the quantities
of pain and pleasure were exactly the same? To answer this
question four points must first be settled. (1) Is his choice
decided by considerations of pleasure and pain alone? (2) Is
he an egotist, one, namely, who considers the effect of acts on
himself alone? (3) Is what he would decide coincident with
what he should decide — that is, will he recognize and act upon
what he would, if the question were entirely impersonal, decide
to be the right or correct course of action? (4) Will any event
presumed to occur during the day affect the surplus of pleasure
or pain on any or all subsequent days ? If we suppose the first
three questions to be answered in the affirmative, and the last
in the negative, it follows from our definition of equivalent
quantities of pleasure and pain that he would prefer to omit
the day from his life — he would consider it to be not worth
living. Suppose now that instead of forecasting a single day,
our hypothetical being was able to forecast his whole subse
quent 'life and discovered that when completely summed up,
it showed an excess of negative area — a surplus of pain. This
would eliminate the necessity of having the knowledge men
tioned in the fourth condition, since there would then be no
subsequent days. Again, let us assume the remaining questions
are answered 'in the affirmative, and again we are forced to the
conclusion that he would prefer oblivion — in this case prefer
death to life. Now it is evident that few persons, even when
they are practically certain that their subsequent life will result
in a surplus of pain, prefer death to life. This is equivalent
to saying that with a majority of persons the third condition
above mentioned is not fulfilled, that men do not, in such
cases, act in their own interest. Indeed, their decisions are
not based on reason, but on instinct — an instinct common to
both men and animals. Hence their acts are not controlled by
considerations of pleasure and pain, but by the fear of death.
In assuming therefore that in the case of our supposed being
condition 3 is fulfilled, we are assuming that he is without the
fear of death.

128 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

Pathedons

CHAP. Ill] UTILITY 129

Let us now turn our attention to Fig. 6. It represents the
curve of happiness of two individuals for a particular day.
The dotted lines A — A and B — B are the two individual curves'.
The solid line C — C is a derivative curve whose characteristic
is that the position of every point upon it is determined by the
algebraic sum of the happiness values of the two individual
curves at points corresponding to it in time. For example, let
us take the point on the curve C — C corresponding to the time
4 P. M. It is fixed as follows: The happiness value of the
curve A — A for that moment in time is .18 pathedon ; that of
the curve B— B is - .205 pathedon. Their algebraic sum will
therefore be .18 --.205= -.025 pathedon, which determines the
position of the point of the curve C — C for 4 P. M. All other
points on the curve are determined in a similar manner. At
times when only one individual is conscious the resultant curve
is coincident with the curve of the other individual. When
neither is conscious it is coincident with the X axis. It thus
happens in the example given, that the termini of the curves
A — A and C — C are coincident. The curve C — C then repre
sents the happiness curve of an individual who experiences,
in his own person, the pain and pleasure experienced by the
individuals whose curves are A — A and B — B separately, that
is, his sensations of- pleasure and pain are the resultants of
theirs, and the happiness value of his day, measured in units of
quantity, is the algebraic sum of the happiness value of theirs.
If now, the happiness curve D — D of a third individual (not
shown) were represented on the diagram, it obviously could
be combined with C — C as A — A and B — B were combined
with one another to give C — C, and the resulting curve would
represent the algebraic sum of the diurnal happiness values of
all three individuals. Similarly four, five, or any number of
curves could be combined until curves representing the happi
ness of a community, a nation, of all mankind, or of all sentient
creation, could conceivably be constructed; and by extending
such a curve throughout all days instead of one, the total happi
ness of all beings for all time would be representable.

Let us next assume an omniscient being, capable therefore
of correctly forecasting the happiness curve of all beings in
cluding his own, and so constituted as to fulfil conditions 1, 2,
and 3, (p. 127.), whose happiness curve coincides throughout
with that which represents the happiness of sentient creation
for all time to come. Suppose that his forecast should show a
surplus of pain. Would he prefer to live or not to live ? Ob-

130 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

viously he would prefer not to live. On the other hand, if
his forecast should show a surplus of pleasure he would prefer to
live. Suppose, however, he were compelled to accept life by
physical necessity, but able by his own voluntary acts to deter
mine the course of the happiness curve of sentient creation,
and therefore his own, which by hypothesis remains coincident
with it. If alternatives A, B, C, D, E, etc., are open to him,
and he can, through his omniscience, foresee the total effect
of each, and discovers that alternative C results in a curve
whose integral shows a greater excess of pleasure or less excess
of pain than A, B, D, E, etc., it follows from what we have
discovered concerning the relation of preference to pleasure and
pain, that the alternative that he will voluntarily select will
be C.

We are now prepared to offer a definition, not of right and
wrong, but of terms whose meaning is very similar to them.
We shall call these terms absolute right and absolute wrong.
By an act absolutely right, I shall mean that act among those
at any moment possible which results in the greatest surplus of
happiness. By an absolutely wrong act I shall mean any
of the alternatives of an absolutely right act. Another way of
expressing these meanings is to say that an absolutely right
act is one which such an omniscient being as we have described
would approve — an absolutely wrong one, one that he would
not approve.

But as we are not seeking a guide for the acts of an omnis
cient being, ^it is evident that these definitions are not those
we are seeking. Men are not omniscient, and can therefore
never be certain which of the alternatives open to them will
result in the maximum rurplus of happiness. Nevertheless,
though they may be unable to arrive at a certainty, they may
establish a presumption. Though it is beyond our power to
be certain of the effects of acts we may have reason for expecta
tions concerning them. Probability then must serve as a guide,
since certainty fails us. Tn truth, there are but two alternatives
to the acceptance of probability as a guide. These are either
to accept no guide whatever and act without any consideration
of the^ effects of our acts, or to accept error as a guide.

It is a familiar fact, not only that men will accept pain
m order to obtain pleasure of more than equivalent quantity,
but that they will risk pain in order to obtain pleasure of less
than equivalent quantity and the greater the presumption of
pleasure, the greater the risk of pain which they will hazard.

CHAP. Ill] UTILITY 131

Similarly they will forego considerable quantities of pleasure, if
accepting them involves risk of too much pain. Indeed, the se
lection of any alternative with the object of attaining pleasure
or of avoiding pain implies the estimation of probability, and
while man's assurance of the results of some acts may be im
mensely greater than his assurance of the results of others, the
difference can never be more than one of degree while he remains
fallible. It is obvious that there are many ways of balancing
presumptions of pleasure and pain, and some of these ways would
be universally recognized as better than others. Suppose a person
were offered two alternatives, A and B : A affording a presump
tion of much pleasure and little pain ; B of much pain and little
pleasure. Would common sense give us any clue as to which
alternative was the better? Would it tell us that B was prefer
able to A, or that A and B were equally preferable? No, it
would be universally conceded that A was preferable to B. If
this be so, there must be some reason for such unanimity of
opinion; it must be that all men have in mind, clearly or
obscurely, some criterion of conduct, which, when applied to the
example cited, yields an identical judgment in all minds. Is
that criterion discoverable and expressible in intelligible sym
bols? If so, it is the duty of the analyst of common sense
to discover and express it if possible. Let us make the attempt.

That operation of the mind which is involved in correctly
comparing the relative promise of happiness offered by two or
more alternatives I shall denominate a Use-judgment or
ChresyHogism, ( Gr. XPWL*= "use : oruXXoyio-^os = judgment) . The
easiest way to reveal the nature of a use-judgment will be
to treat a simple case first and then develop from it the uni
versal law. For this purpose reference should be made to Table
I, which represents one of the simplest of use-judgments. It
may be explained thus:

Assume an individual — call him X — to whom units of
money correspond to units of pleasure and pain; to whom, let
us say, the gain of one dollar would mean a gain of one hedon-
minute, a gain of two dollars a gain of two hedon-minutes,
etc.; similarly the loss of one dollar would mean the loss of
one hedon-minute or the gain of one pathon-minute, etc. In
other words, assume that pleasure and pain can be thus ex
pressed exactly in terms of money gained and money lost. This
is not generally true, but it will make the explanation simpler
to assume it in the present example

Assume now, X to be confined to the selection of seven and

132 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BooK I

USE-JUDGMENT OF SEVEN ALTERNATIVES or Two CONTINGENCIES OF
EQUAL PHOIJAKII-ITY EACH.

Probability
of

Probable
surplus of

Mean
surplus of

1

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$

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A

/2

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B

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!

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Table I.

CHAP. Ill] UTILITY 133

only seven alternatives, signified by A, B, 0, etc. (Column 1)
each alternative consisting of the toss of a separate coin. That
is, X may select any coin of the seven he pleases, but he must
select one. Now a coin must fall either heads or tails —
it matters not which alternative he selects, one of two contin
gencies is sure to occur — the coin will fall either heads or tails,
and the probability of each will be one-half. Call the fall of
heads, contingency 1, and the fall of tails contingency 2. Then
the probability of contingency 1 will be one-half, and of con
tingency 2 v/ill be one-half. (Columns 2 and 3.) Next let
us make the following assumptions : In the case of alternative
A, the occurrence of contingency 1 will involve a gain or loss
of nothing; the occurrence of contingency 2 will involve a loss
of $3.00. In the case of alternative B, the occurrence of con
tingency 1 will involve a gain of $1.00 and of contingency 2 a
loss of $3.00, etc. Columns 4 and 5 contain these values for
each alternative; they are called the probable surpluses of con
tingencies 1 and 2, respectively. A gain is expressed by a positive
sign ; a loss by a negative sign. If now we multiply the figures
in Column 2, by the corresponding figures in Column 4, we ob
tain Column 6, and by the same operation on Columns 3 and 5,
we obtain Column 7. These are called the mean surpluses of con
tingencies 1 and 2, respectively: their algebraic sum is con
tained in Column 8, and is called the presumption of gain (or
loss) of alternatives A, B, C, etc. In order to understand ex
actly what the last three columns represent, let us consider
some one alternative, say B. To say the chance of tossing heads
is one-half, is to say that if the coin is thrown a great number
of times, heads will turn up, on an average, once in two times.
Say the coin is thrown six million times; then heads will turn
np three million of those times, and tails also three million.
Of course, there will be a slight percentage error, but were the
number of times indefinitely increased, the error would in
definitely decrease. This being the case, it is obvious, that in
six million throws X will gain three million dollars and lose
nine million dollars if he accepts alternative B. To obtain
the amount won and lost at each throw, on the average, we
must divide by the number of throws, viz. six million. This
shows that the mean amount gained per throw will be one-
half a dollar; the mean amount lost will be one dollar and
a half. These are the figures in Columns 6 and 7 respectively.
Column 8 is the algebraic sum of these two. It shows that, on
the average, X will lose one dollar on every throw. A similar

134 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BooK I

USE- JUDGMENT OF SlX ALTERNATIVES OF TWO CONTINGENCIES OF
UNEQUAL PROBABILITY EACH.

Probability

Probable

Mean

of

surplus of

surplus of

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

cr

00

OsJ

PsJ

0.

^i ••

o

CO

o^

>">

o^

p^N

p?N

>>»

CD

C

c:

J—

C

^

cr

0

CD

CD

CD

CD

CD

So

bn

txo

bo

on

Q_

m

d

c

c

tC

C

E

CD

"c

c

c

c

c

-»—

c

to

•*—'

o

0

o

o

o

o

££

<c

0

0

O

o

0

0

d.

)athedon-

jathedon-

pathedon

pathedon-

pathedon-

minutes

minutes

minutes

minutes

minutes

A

l/i2

"/I2

-2

20

-*•

18/3

18/6

B

^4

3/4

4

-3

i

-2/4

-1/4

C

!/5

4/5

8

8

|3/5

6%

8

D

%

13/I5

6

-5

4/S

-4/3

-3%

E

'/8

%

9

2

1/8

13/4

27/8

F

%,

'%*

20

-1

4/6

--%4

23/a

Table II

CHAP. Ill] UTILITY 135

meaning is to be given to the other figures in Columns 6, 7
and 8. From these considerations it is clear that the best
alternative of llic seven, the one promising the greatest gain,
is G, the next best is F, the next E, &c., A being the worst.

Table I is the expression of a use- judgment on the assump
tion that units of happiness are equivalent to units of money.
Dropping this erroneous assumption, let us consider Table 11
which shows a slightly more complicated use- judgment, in which
the probabilities of the two contingencies are unequal. In this
table the surpluses are expressed in pathedon-minutes, as they
should be, instead of in dollars. We may suppose the alterna
tives to be those offered by the fall of a die whose faces are
unequal in area, so that the chance of face 1 turning up is -j^
and of not turning up therefore H; of face 2 turning up £
and of not turning up f, etc. The assumed surpluses of these
contingencies arc recorded in Columns 4 and 5. The same
principles are embodied in this as in the previous use-judg
ment, and by the same operations we discover that alternative
A is the best, C the next best, E next, and D the worst. When
there are only two contingencies to an alternative, or only two
are considered, we shall call the probability of that contingency
whose probable surplus is algebraically the greatest, the proba
bility of success, and its probable surplus, the surplus of success;
the probability of the other contingency will then be called the
probability of failure and its probable surplus the surplus of
failure, etc. The grounds for this terminology are obvious ; since
the only reason an alternative is, in general, selected is because
of the presumption which it affords of happiness, and the occur
rence of that contingency which affords the most happiness
would be deemed a successful result of selecting the alternative.
The occurrence of the other contingency would constitute fail
ure, of which there is always risk.

Table III shows a yet more complex use-judgment, contain
ing three alternatives of four equally probable ^ contingencies
each. These alternatives may be considered as arising from the
optional casts of three separate dies having the shape ^ of
an isohedral tetrahedron, each corresponding to an alternative.
The operations are the same as in the previous example -
mean surpluses of pain and pleasure being first found
by multiplying the corresponding columns together, and the
algebraic sum constituting in each case the presumption of
happiness of the corresponding alternative.

To more perfectly reveal the nature of a use-judgment lable

136 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

IV is inserted. It is the complete analysis of a single alterna
tive containing five contingencies (Column 1). The proba
bilities,, probable surpluses., and mean surpluses of these
contingencies are given in columns 2, 3, and 4 respectively.
The algebraic sum of the figures in column 4 is,, of course., the
presumption of happiness of the alternative (equal in this ex
ample to — -fft) . Now it may be said of any contingency that
it will either occur,, or it will not. Call the non-occurrence of

USE-JUDGMENT OF THREE ALTERNATIVES OF FOUR CONTINGENCIES OF
EQUAL PROBABILITY EACH.

Probability

Probable surplus

Mean surplus

of

of

of

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

II

12

13

14

f\j

CO

^

rvj

m

<NJ

ro

„

*Q_
Q_

Alternatives

o

C.
<D

bo

cr

cr
<i>
txo

cr

bo

cr

bo

cr

bn

cr

1

cr

cr

I

cr

cr

cr

bo

cr

a

O

C.
O

E

ra

£

or

cr
o
0

cr
o
0

cr
o
O

cr

0

O

cr
O

O

cr
o
0

cr
o
0

cr

0

O

c
0
O

cr
o
O

cr
o
O

a

0

O

path.-

mins.

path.-
mins.

pa.th-
rnins.

path.-
mins.

path.-

mins.

path.-
mins.

patte
rn ins.

path.-
mins.

path.-
mins.

A

14

YA

VA

14

1

0

-1

-2

YA

0

-YA

-/2

-/2

B

YA

YA

YA

14

2

I

0

-1

Yi

VA

0

-VA

/2

C

YA

YA

VA

14

3

2

1

0

3/4

/2

YA

0

1/2

Table III.

a given contingency its anti-contingency. This anti-contin
gency, of course, will have a probability, a probable surplus,
and a mean surplus, (Columns 5, 6, "and 7,) just as the
corresponding contingency has, and as one or the other must
occur, it is clear that we may calculate the presumption of
happiness of any alternative by adding the mean surplus of
any contingency involved, to the mean surplus of the correspond-

CHAP. Ill] UTILITY 137

ing anti-contingency; and if a use-judgment is consistent with
itself, we should always obtain thereby the same result. Let
us make the trial.

Obviously the probability of an anti-contingency is found by
subtracting the probability of its contingency from unity. This
figure is given in column 5. The mode of ascertaining its
probable surplus may be explained thus : If any contingency
involved in an alternative fails to occur, it must be because
some one of its associated contingencies occurs. Let us assume,
for example, that contingency IV fails to occur. Now con
tingencies are either independent, or they are not; that is to
say, the assumption of the non-occurrence of any one, either in
creases the probability of each of the others in equal ratio, or
it does not. Let us assume the contingencies in the present
example to be independent. Then by the assumption of the
non-occurrence of contingency IV, the probability of each of
its associates is increased in equal ratio. Moreover, as some
one of them must occur, the sum of their probabilities must be
unity. To fulfil both these conditions the probability of each
of the associates of contingency IV must be multiplied by the
reciprocal of the probability of the anti-contingency of contin
gency IV, viz., by J. This will give the probability of each,
assuming the non-occurrence of said contingency. Multiplying
in each case this revised probability into the corresponding prob
able surplus, and adding together the four mean surpluses thus
obtained, we obtain the probable surplus of the anti-contingency
of contingency IV, viz. — 1|. Multiplying this into its proba
bility we obtain its mean surplus, viz. - 1^, and if this be
added to the mean surplus of contingency IV we obtain — -fy
as the presumption of happiness of the alternative. This is
the same result as is obtained by adding together the fig
ures in column 4. By performing these same operations in the
case of the other contingencies the result is the same, and
thus the consistency of the use-judgment is verified. In fact,
if we substitute letters for numbers in the process we have
described, and equate the several expressions obtained for the
presumption of happiness, we shall get a series of identical
equations, (of the form 1 = 1) showing that the result is a
general one. To follow the explanation we have given may
prove rather tedious, but he who does so understandingly will
have no difficulty thereafter in comprehending the nature of a
use-judgment.

In the case of dependent contingencies no general rule for

138

THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK 1

COMPLETE ANALYSIS OF AN ALTERNATIVE ASSUMING INDEPENDENT
CONTINGENCIES.

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

&

cr

CD
CXO

j —

cz

CD
00

CD

txo

CT*

cr

CD

CD

O

4^

cr
o

^"v

*,—;

0^

*— 5

o

CO

C7

cr

C^

1

1

CD

CD

o

•4— *

*f^3

4 •

cr

CiO

0

o

cr

cr

c

Q.

cr

f j _,

0

r^

'O

a.

•4— "

cr

0

i

*o

J2

s

co

— 3

o

cr

CO

o

<•! •

CO

CD

<4_

0

e-

CO

(4—

f

CO
ID

0

( —

0

^

o_

m

co

Q_

o

CD

•"* —

CD

—)

_•*— ;

CD

'—}

ex

D/>

lo

_Q

•—

E

*"O

^O

d

TJ

T3

d

m

-4— '

Q

f^

^o

~d)

*"O

CO

O

p

CD

O

0

CD

CD

O

S —

Q-

et

pathedon-

pathedon-

pathedon-

pathedon-

pathedon-

minutes

minutes

minutes

minutes

minutes

1

</4

8

2

3/4

-3l3/s

-23/0

-9/o

II

H2

-10

-5/6

'./,2

-4/55

-'/is

-9/0

III

16

0

0

2/3

-P/20

-9/10

-9/0

IV

&

3

3/5

4/5

-1%

-P/2

-9/0

V

%

-20

-2%

•3/5

2/26

.%

-9/0

Presumption _g/
of happiness

Table IV.

CHAP. HI] UTILITY 139

calculating the probable surplus can be given, because the opera
tion will vary according to the mode of dependence. Hence
alternatives involving such contingencies can only be analyzed
by applying to them the theory of probabilities in the manner
required by the conditions peculiar to each.

Now it is obvious that a use-judgment or chresyllogism may
contain any number of alternatives, that each alternative may
involve any number of contingencies, that the probability of
said contingencies may be equal or unequal, that their probable
surpluses may be positive or negative, yet exactly the same
principle exemplified in the samples shown will be applicable
in determining the relative presumption of happiness of the
various alternatives exhibited thereby. Indeed, this is the
method by which common sense always judges, and by the same
method every man, when he acts wisely, guides his conduct;
for in choosing the alternatives, or series of alternatives, which
constitute his conduct, he strives at each moment of his life to
select the best offered by circumstances, and he is enabled to
select the best from among those offered, by a process in all
respects similar to that explained. One important difference,
however, must be noticed. In the hypothetical cases we have
considered, the probabilities and probable surpluses are assumed
to be exactlv known, but in most of the alternatives offered us
in life these quantities must be estimated. Not merely is the
surplus of each contingency only a probable surplus, but
probability is only a probable probability. It is m the esti
mation of these quantities that knowledge is most useful. With
out knowledge we are unable to estimate them at all and
hence have no guide to conduct. The greater our knowledge
the more closelv can they be estimated — were we omniscient,
we could estimate them exactly. As knowledge rests upon be
lief-judgments derived from observation, the ability to judge (
usefulness rests, in its final analysis, upon observation. _ In all
the familiar deliberate acts which concern our personal interest,
particularly those whose consequences promise to be ol s
portance, we are conscious of making estimates of the k
illustrated- attempting to approximate the pleasure and pan
value, not of some one of the possible effects or contingency
of the alternatives offered, but of all the possible effects or
contingencies — not of the immediate and direct contingencies
alone, but of the remote and indirect conungencies as we!
seeking to measure not only what we shall gam IE the con
tingency we desire eventuates, but what we shall lose if it

140 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

to eventuate. In fact, the more we consider partial effects to
the neglect of total, the more what we do, departs from what
we should or ought to do.

^ A moral being may be defined as one possessed of voli
tion and capable of employing a use-judgment. At any and
every moment in such a being's life, an indefinite number of
alternatives is offered him, to each of which correspond an in
definite number of contingencies, whose probability and probable
surplus must be estimated, if at all, by the inductive method.
Hence the general expression for a use-judgment or chresyllo-
gism is as follows:

Let A, B, . . &c., be the alternatives offered, each
involving an assemblage of contingencies. Let p1 p0 p3
Pm , &c. ; p'j p'2 p'8 . . . p'n, &c. be the several probabilities
of said assemblages of contingencies respectively. Let hx h2 h3
: • • hm> &c. ; h\ h'2 h'3 . . . h'n, &c. be the correspond
ing probable surpluses: then if PA, PB, . . . &c. rep
resent the presumptions of happiness of the several alternatives
the following equations will be valid:

I>A = p1h1 + p2h2 + p3h3+ . . . pmhm.
*Vp'1h'1 + p'2h'2 + p'3h'3+ . . . p'nh'n.
and so with the other alternatives. The greater the algebraic
value of the presumption of happiness, the greater the utility.
lhat is to say, the degree of utility or usefulness of an alternative
is measured by its presumption of happiness.

Of course, in any actual situation in life the number of alter
natives considered and the number of contingencies correspond
ing to each is limited. We ignore the vast bulk of possible alter
natives and consider those alone which offer, or which appear to
otter, the greatest presumptions of happiness.

What we have on page 80 remarked concerning a belief-iudo--
ment holds good for a use-judgment — the presumptions which
determine acts must be based upon data at the time and
place available. So long as a person adheres strictly to the
method of common sense and employs all the data available,
• has done the best he can. If then he makes mistakes it
must be charged to the fallibility of human faculty and not
to any error m the principles employed.

The fact that common sense has only the theory of proba-
nhty to offer as a guide to human acts is frequently cited
by persons who have not considered the matter as proof of the
incapacity of science to provide a practical code of conduct

CHAP. Ill] UTILITY 141

" It is all very well," say they, " to talk about selecting those
acts which will lead to the greatest happiness; but how are we
going to know what acts will so lead?" The shallowness of
this style of criticism has been already exposed and may be
further exhibited by inquiring what alternative they have to
offer us for the theory of probability as a guide to conduct.
Not being omniscient they cannot offer us certainty; and if
they offer us local intuition they must be prepared to encounter
the objection that one local intuition is as good as another.

Indeed, it is clear that he who would derive the most happi
ness from the alternatives offered by his surroundings must
employ the principle we have revealed, for what suggestible
departure therefrom would afford a greater amount? It may
perhaps be suggested that occasionally, when some alternative
is offered involving a contingency whose probable surplus is
very great, though the probability of the contingency itself is
small, that such an alternative should perhaps be risked, even
if some other affords a greater presumption of happiness.
But those who deem such risks justifiable should not forget
that the particular grounds upon which probabilities have been
established are a matter of indifference in judgments of utility

it is only the decrees of probability which are considered.

Hence, if such a risk is justified on any one occasion, it will
be justified on all occasions when the relative probabilities are
the same; that is, if a man is justified in departing in a specific
manner from the principle of the use-judgment once, why is
he not justified in departing twice under the same circumstances,
and if twice why not three times ; if three times, why not four
times, etc. ? Indeed, any departure from the principle we have
laid down involves inconsistency unless the departure is gov
erned by some principle which would require a like departure
in all similar cases — and if such a principle is proposable,

what is it?

I will not say that individuals do not depart from this
principle — I will not say that in departing therefrom they
have not sometimes been the gainers — I will say that in the
total departure therefrom more has been lost than has been
gained. In gambling at a regular gaming establishment, where
the chances are always in favor of the establishment, many
men have won— but more have lost. It would be absurd for
any o-amblcr to assert that because he had won once on a great
risk "that he, or anv one else, could therefore safely ^ take the
risk thereafter. The principle of utility embodied in a use-

142 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BooK I

judgment involves risks, but the risks are exactly appor
tioned to the probability of the contingencies, and of the
surpluses thereof, instead of being selected fortuitously. Men
may, and often do, in guiding their conduct, depart from
the principle we have discussed, but they cannot do so without
at the same time departing from common sense. Kant has
said that whatever rule is taken as the foundation of morality
it must be of universal application; and this requirement the
rule imposed by a use-judgment fulfils, for it is obvious from
the nature of probability that the more universally conduct is
controlled by use-judgments the greater the probability that
happiness will approach a maximum ; and every departure there
from diminishes said probability. Indeed, that which Laplace
remarked of the mathematical theory of probability may
*lth *flual J.ustice> be remarked of the mathematical theory
31 utility — it is common sense reduced to calculation

Now one who employs a use-judgment to forecast the effect

t his acts on his own happiness curve alone, and whose conduct

is controlled by judgments so derived, may be called an egotist

the lower unsocial animals are representatives of this class

One who considers his own family but ignores the rest of

creation may be called an oeciot (Gr. oiK(a = family ) — manv

animals and primitive men have attained such a stage One

whose consideration extends to his tribe or "gam? " mav be cillprl

a pffiot (Gr. ^= tribe). One whose gactf arTLnt±d

by their presumable effect on those composing his nation is

d a patriot — modern civilized communities have attained

ie patriotic stage One who in acting considers mankind as

is called a humanitarian; and one who controls his con-

utilitanan prGSUmable effect uPon sentient creation is called a

The meaning of the word reason as applicable to acts is at

is an v ft °Uf eXP°siti°n discoverable. A reason for an act
s any portion of evidence, aposteriori or apriori, adapted to aid

~] If 7 llG dCgPCe °f U,tmty °f Said act> and " adjudged
a good or a bad reason according as it tends, or does not tend,

s ±rf ? gh ^ree °f UtiHt? therefor- The WOTd reason,

tarinfr *°r^otistic' oeci^ic, phyliotic, patriotic, humani-

mn and utilitarian acts respectively, will, from this definition,

* obvious; and it is equally obvious that the terms utility
probable surplus, mean surplus, etc., are capable of a like
variation m meaning; but as employed in this work unless
otherwise specified, they will retain their utilitarian ""

CHAP. Ill] UTILITY 143

I

since it is a clear comprehension of these alone which can lead
us to the goal we seek — the definitions of the words right and
wrong. These definitions., toward which we have heen travelling
so long, may now be formulated, thus :

A RIGHT ACT is AN ACT OF MAXIMUM UTILITY — it is
that act among those at any moment possible whose presumption
of happiness is a maximum. A WRONG ACT IS ANY ALTER
NATIVE OF A RIGHT ACT Or, assuming a, b, c, d, e, &c. express
the presumptions of happiness of sentient creation correspond
ing to alternatives A, B, C, D, E, &c., and of these a is greater
than l>, or c, or d, &c., then A is right and B, C, D, E, &c. are
all of them wrong.

Thus voluntary acts are divided into two classes (1) Eight,
(2) Not right, or Wrong, i. e., wrong is equivalent to not right,
and there is no class of acts which are neither right nor wrong,
which neither should nor should not be done.

Of course it may be contended that occasionally two or more
alternatives may arise the utility of which is exactly the same.
Perhaps it must be admitted that such a case might occasion
ally occur; but it will rarely, if ever, happen in situations where
the effects are of sufficient importance to justify careful deliber
ation, that such deliberation will fail to develop some presump
tion, however small, in favor of one or another alternative,
and if it does so fail, it is a matter of indifference which
alternative is selected.

Any act which is adapted to attain the end for the attain
ment of which it is selected may be called an adaptive act —
if the end be hedonistic it is a correct act, but it is convenient
to restrict the word right to that class of correct acts whose end
is the utilitarian end. An adaptive act may be correct or right,
but it may be neither. A correct act is adaptive, and may or
may not be right. A right act is both adaptive and correct.
Thus the relative meaning of these terms is made clear.

It may be objected that in practical affairs we seldom or
never hear men refer to such a thing as a presumption of happi
ness or the probable surplus of such and such a contingency,
much less do we ever perceive them casting their judgments
into such forms as those we have shown as representing use-
judgments. Men seem to get along very well without knowl
edge of this character. Neither do we hear men, when about
their ordinary affairs, refer to major premises, or the rules of the
syllogism, or the inverse method of induction. Nevertheless,
as already noted, they use the inductive or common sense method

144 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

as a guide to belief every hour of their lives in their familiar
affairs, and they would use it in all affairs did they understand
the nature of common sense. Similarly., in commonplace mat
ters men employ use-judgments as guides to conduct., and they
would employ them in all matters did they consistently adhere
to common sense. Not understanding the nature of common
sense any more in the one case than in the other, as soon as
they leave the realm where error is subject to the constant check
of immediate experience they become subject to the rule of in-
tuitionism, the result being that their means are no longer
adapted to their ends. Should a farmer be told that in carefully
fertilizing his field, sowing, cultivating, and harvesting his crops,
he is pursuing a correct policy, but that after the crops are
harvested it makes no difference what is done with them,
whether they are left in the field to rot, fed to the swine, or
sent to market, he would suspect that he was not listening to
common sense. But should he be told that the correct policy
for a nation to pursue is to produce wealth as economically as
possible, but that its mode of consumption, its disposal after
being produced, is of no consequence, he would not perceive
anything to criticise in the statement; in fact, had he been an
early and close student of dogmatic economics he probably
would be tempted to say that this truth was almost self-evident
— a political axiom. He would, in other words, apply common
sense to the conduct of an individual, but not to the conduct of
a nation. Had he, however, understood its nature and confined
his methods of distinguishing between the correct and the in
correct to those we have specified, he would have seen that com
mon sense is as applicable to the one as to the other. Should
the reader deem that in stating the case thus strongly I am
indulging in exaggeration I commend to his impartial judg
ment the considerations with which this work hereafter deals.
But it may occur to some readers that so long as right and
wrong must in minds not omniscient always include the doubt

attaching to probability, that after all the safest method is

at any rate in important matters — not to select any alternative
at _ all, but to let things take their course. The difficulty with
this view is that to fail to act constitutes as deliberate a selec
tion of an alternative as to act; it may be the right or it may
be a wrong alternative, but it must be one or the other, so long
as the probabilities of the effects on pleasure and pain are not
in perfect equality.

This consideration leads us to some further distinctions of

CHAP. Ill] UTILITY 145

importance in the theory of utility. In the last chapter it was
pointed out that the word probability, besides signifying the
measure of an expectation's validity, could be, and often was,
applied to expectations of the higher degrees of validity. A
similar innocuous equivocality attaches to the words utility or
usefulness. Besides signifying the degree of an alternative's
presumption of happiness, they may be applied to alternatives
of the higher degrees of utility.

To fail to act can only mean to select that alternative which
involves the minimum of activity, whether of mind or body,
the presumable surplus of happiness of this alternative being,
in general, as definite as that of any other. Now a useful
act or alternative is one whose presumption of happiness is
greater than the alternative of minimum activity, except when
said alternative of minimum activity involves a greater pre
sumption than any other. In this case the alternative of mini
mum activity is the only useful one. Any useful act to which
there is an alternative more useful will be wrong; otherwise
it will be right; that is of course, a right act is simply the most
useful act. Any act whose presumable surplus is not greater
than that of the alternative of minimum activity is called a use
less act, except when the utility of said alternative is a maximum,
in which case all other alternatives are useless. A harmful act
or alternative is one having a negative presumption of happi
ness when alternatives involving a positive presumption are
selectable. The meanings of the words useful, useless, and
harmful as applied to objects or events will, from what is here
said, be sufficiently obvious.

The foregoing definitions incidentally partake of the nature
of inductions. I have sought to discover and express by them,
with as high a degree of precision as possible, the meaning which
the great teachers of morality in all ages and climes, consciously
or unconsciously, vaguely or clearly, must have intended to con
vey when they formulated their rules for the guidance of man
kind — at least in so far as they intended to convey any meaning
capable of being made consistent with itself — for they are
founded upon the only distinction in experience whose interest
to mankind persists and will continue to persist throughout
all countries and all history, independent alike of space and
of time — the distinction between pleasure and pain. They
constitute the test by which we may judge of the goodness or
badness, the usefulness or uselessness, the desirability or un-
desirability, not only of voluntary acts, but of anything and

146 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [Boon I

everything which affects sentient beings. Many objections to
them will doubtless occur to the reader, but I apprehend that
there will be two of particular prominence. The first of these
has reference to the relation of conscientious to right acts and
will be fully treated in Chapter 6. The second refers to the
fact that our definitions specify nothing concerning that very
essential factor — the distribution of happiness. Justice would
seem to demand that such happiness as the world may afford
should be equally distributed. It is palpably unfair that one set
of men should have all the pleasure and another all the pain.
Bentham expressed the utilitarian doctrine by asserting that
the object of voluntary acts .should be the greatest happiness
of the greatest number, thereby making the number of persons
affected a factor in distinguishing right from wrong. We have
asserted that right and wrong are determined only by the pre
sumption of happiness, independent of distribution, and it re
mains for us to justify our definitions in the face of this objec
tion, which will, I apprehend, be a very general one.

Let us examine, in the first place, the assumption which
must be made if we accept the number affected as a critical
factor in distinguishing right from wrong; and first let us
inquire if there is any universally accepted rule which will tell
us what the distribution of happiness should be. Should we
ask a Mohammedan how happiness ought to be distributed, he
would reply that the faithful followers of the prophet ought to
get the bulk of it. A Chinaman would deny the right of the
hated foreigner to any share in happiness. A Turk would assert
that in the distribution of happiness men should be considered
before women. And a Hindu would claim that it is entirely a
matter of caste. Many Christians would maintain that the
idolatrous heathen have no just title to share in the blessings
of the elect — and with various reservations, practically all races
and creeds would agree that in the distribution of happiness
little or none should fall to the share of the wicked, while the
righteous should get whatever the world may afford. Evi
dently then, there is little general agreement on the subject of
distribution. All but the last mentioned view, however, may
be attributed to local dogma, prohibiting any impartial judg
ment, as dogma always does. Perhaps an impartial judge would
claim that all persons, independent of race, creed, age, sex, or
character, ought to have an equal share in the pleasure and
pain which the world affords ; but this suggests the question —
Why confine equality of distribution to persons ? Have animals

CHAP. Ill] UTILITY 14Y

no claims? If not,, why not? If so, should their share be the
same as that of men, or less, and if less, how much less ? These
questions must be answered, or at least answerable, if the defini
tions we are discussing are to serve as a guide to conduct. Ad
mitting that right and wrong are to be expressed in terms of
pleasure and pain, a definition consistent with itself must apply
to any community — or to put the matter more generally —
must apply to any system capable of pleasure or pain. How
then would a definition, involving equal distribution as an essen
tial factor, be applied to a system consisting of various animals,
men, horses, dogs, cows, hawks, crocodiles, moths and mosqui
toes? Should the distribution be equal? If not, how should
it be determined? Again suppose the community included no
men, but animals only — how then would the definition apply?
I am aware that many persons would dispose of this matter
by saying that, as animals have no souls, they are entitled to
no consideration, and that the pleasure or pain of animals should
always be ignored if the failure to ignore it diminishes the
pleasure or increases the pain of men. Such persons would
probably claim that the words right and wrong have no meaning
when applied to animals alone. Without arguing _the question
as to whether the word soul has any definite meaning, or with
out inquiring how we are to know which animals have, and
which have not, souls, the question may be asked : Why should
the possession or lack of possession of a soul make any differ
ence? Pain is pain by whomsoever felt, and pleasure is pleas
ure. To say that a soul has anything to do with the question
of right and wrong is, in effect, to say that right and wrong
cannot be expressed in terms of pleasure and pain. Indeed, it
is so obvious that dogma alone dictates this view of the nature
of right and wrong that any effort to oppose it by reason would
be superfluous.

It matters not whether the beings which feel are men, horses,
toads or flies; it is the quantity of pain or pleasure produced,
not the particular configuration of the body of the being who
feels it, that is of consequence. If a man will, for a moment,
cease to take counsel of his prejudices, he will concede that
this must be so. For, if we are to declare that the shape of
the body, the nature of the tissues, or the degree of intelligence,
of a being, must be taken into consideration in deciding whether
the pleasure or pain felt by it are worthy of estimate in the
surplus of pleasure which it is our duty to increase, then we
must be able to give some reason why a particular shape of

148 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BooK I

body or particular degree of intelligence justifies us in ignoring
the pain or pleasure associated with it. The mere statement
of this condition must convince us of the futility of attempting
to formulate a consistent definition of right which will meet
it. Surely the desirability of pleasure or the undesirability
of pain cannot depend upon whether they are felt by a being
who has a long nose rather than a short one, black hair rather
than brown, a dark skin rather than a light one, two legs rather
than four, a, vertebrate skeleton rather than an articulate one;
nor can it depend upon whether said being is more or less
proficient in mathematics, is better or worse in disputation, is
capable of reasoning or incapable of it. If it does so depend,
then it is in order to inquire what may be meant by the words
desirable or undesirable in this connection. Certainly the ^ defi
nition must be very different from that which we have given;
for the definition of right and wrong determines that of desir
able and undesirable when those words are used without quali
fication. We may feel assured that should a definition of these
words be formulated which would justify their use in violation
of the condition noted, it would have no interest for us; it
would be rather a useless definition, and refer to some incon
spicuous distinction in experience. It is upon the presumable
capacity of beings for pleasure and pain and upon nothing else
that consideration for them should be based. If we had reason
to believe that a pine plank was capable of pleasure, and if we
had presented to us two alternatives and only two: (1) An act
which produced in said plank one hedon-minute and (2) An
act which produced in the most worthy being on earth T9¥
hedon-minute, then the first alternative would be right, the
second wrong; always provided that the effects specified were,
in fact, the total effects.

By putting the case generally the matter will become clear.
Assume a system, consisting of a series of sentient beings, A, B,
C, D, E, F, &c., and suppose we have open to us two alternatives,
the first involving a total surplus of happiness in the system
of n hedon-hours, confined let us suppose to the beings A, B,
and C, the others not being affected : the second involving a
total surplus of happiness of ra hedon-hours, equally distributed
among all the beings. Suppose n greater than m: Which al
ternative is right? According to our definition there can be
no doubt; the first alternative involving the greater surplus of
happiness is right. By any definition including the criterion
of number, which would be right? Would we insist that equal-

CHAP. Ill] UTILITY 149

ity be obtained at any cost ? That no matter how small m and
how large n, that the alternative involving equality was right
and that involving inequality was wrong? Should the totality
of happiness always be sacrificed to its distribution? If not,
what must the quantitative relation between n and m be
which would justify us in selecting the one or the other?
There is obviously no answer to this question. Hence a defini
tion involving the criterion of number can afford no consistent
guide to conduct. Indeed, even to an omniscient being it could
afford no guide ; because, though he might foresee perfectly the
effect of all alternatives on total happiness and distribution,
the definition would afford him no means of telling what rela
tion between the two constituted the right relation. It is idle
to maintain that if he were omniscient he would then, of _ neces
sity, know what the right relation was : that would be equivalent
to saying that he would know what we, according to this view,
do not know, viz., the meaning of the word right, and would
be admitting, what must be admitted, that we use the word
right and its correlative wrong without any meaning when we
attempt to incorporate in their definition the factor of distri
bution.

But after all, when we examine our own minds critically, we
see that the really conspicuous distinction is between quantity
of pleasure and quantity of pain. To say that distribution is of
importance, is merely to say that it is important what the co
ordinates of pleasurable and painful states of consciousness are ;
it is to say that a given pleasurable state B is desirable because
it happens to be preceded by state A and succeeded by state C ;
while a state involving an exactly equivalent quantity of pleasure
E is less desirahle because preceded by state D and succeeded by
state F. This is all that we assert when we assert one distri
bution to be more desirable than another, and, as we have seen,
it would probably be impossible to give a consistent meaning
to the word desirable, when used in tins connection. If the
reader thinks otherwise, let him attempt to give a real, and
useful, definition of the word which will include the criterion
of distribution.

From what has been said it appears that examination ot the
mind fails to disclose any principle, independent of individual
approval or disapproval, by which one distribution of pleasure
and pain can be predicated as preferable to another,
patriot or humanitarian is not a wholly emancipated egotist.
The principle thus disclosed I shall call the DILEMMA OF Dig-

150 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BooK I

TRIBUTION. Should the reader be disposed to reject the conse
quences of this dilemma on the ground that he is unable to
approve them, I commend to him a consideration of the dilemma
of intuitionism, discussed in Chapter 6.

Must we then conclude that our almost ineradicable convic
tion that happiness should be distributed equally among men,
and that the righteous should be rewarded and the unrighteous
punished is all a delusion? Must we admit that there is no
consistent meaning of the word should which can justify such
an assertion? By no means. One of the strong claims to our
confidence that the definitions we have given are those we are
looking for is that, animal and human nature being constituted
as thev are these practically universally admitted propositions
are deducible from them. 'The first of these subjects is dis
cussed in Chapter 7 and the second will be cleared up in the
present chapter.

On page 127 we have implied that a day whose curve of happi
ness shows a surplus of pain might still be considered worth
living, and that on egotistic grounds, provided it included^ acts
or eve'nts presumed to affect the surplus of pleasure or pain of
subsequent days. That is, the immediate object, purpose, or end
of an act may not be its ultimate object, purpose, or end.
When a farmer plants seed, he does not do it because the act
is worth doing for itself. He foresees, or expects, that the effect
of his act will be the growth of the wheat, its ripening in the
autumn, the harvesting of the ripened grain, its threshing,
grinding, etc., and finally its consumption by some being,
through whose life, thus sustained, happiness may be increased,
either that of him who consumes it, or that of some other being
or beings influenced by him. We shall call an act thus selected
because it is a presumable cause, immediate or remote, of some
end desirable in itself — a means; that effect in the expectation
of inducing which it is selected, we shall call an ultimate end,
or simply an end. A proximate end is any effect produced by
a means' as one link in the chain of causation which connects
said means with its end. In the above example, planting the
seed is the means; the happiness to be produced is the end;
the growth and ripening of the wheat are proximate ends. In
the threshing, grinding, etc., other means are employed to pro
duce other proximate ends, all with the ultimate object of pro
ducing happiness: in other words, the clean grain, the flour,
the bread made from it, the life or possibility of sensation sus
tained by the bread, are all proximate and not ultimate ends.

CHAP. Ill] UTILITY 151

These proximate ends are often themselves called means. Bread,
for example, would be called a means whose proximate end is
the sustaining of life, and as it will be convenient to dp so, I
shall extend the definition of the word means so as to include
proximate ends, and by a means shall signify any cause of an
ultimate end, producible or modifiable by voluntary acts. Hence,
when I say that a right act is that one among two or more
alternatives which is the presumable means of attaining the
greatest total surplus of happiness, irrespective of other ends,
I but recast the definition given on page 143 in terms of means
and ends. In other words, by the very definition of the^word
should, and the only one which is at once useful, intelligible,
and consistent with Itself, total happiness should or ought to be
the only ultimate end of voluntary acts. No other end can
justify any means, and this end justifies all means. In truth,
this statement again follows directly from definition. For by
the phrase to justify in this connection, I mean to make con
sistent with justice ;' by justice I mean the quality common to
just acts : and a just act is always a right act.

Means and ends then are connected with one another by the
relation of cause and effect. In many cases of very general
means, the means and ends are so closely related as to be mis
taken for one another. Means, in fact, are continually mistaken
for ends, as we shall have ample occasion to make _ evident.
Thus many persons would claim that life was an end in itself,
instead of one of the means — one of the essential conditions of
happiness. Yet would a life containing no happiness in itself,
or yielding none to other lives, directly or indirectly be of any
use? Would it be worth striving for as an end:
meaning can be given the words use and worth when employed in
such a connection?

Character is another proximate end frequently mistaken tor
an ultimate one. Those who fall into this error are denomi
nated perfectionists. They say it is the ultimate aim of human
effort to perfect human 'character — to develop the faculties
and powers with which nature has endowed man to a point as
near perfection as possible; but when they come to ^specific
statement it is discovered that only certain parts of man s char
acter should be developed and perfected. Generosity, honesty,,
benevolence, tolerance, and unselfishness in general, it appeal
are the characteristics to cultivate. Nature, however, has en
dowed us, in a greater or less degree, with certain other traits —
envy greed dishonesty, vindictiveness, and similar varieties

152 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

selfishness. Why should we not cultivate these traits? Why
not perfect ourselves in the faculty of hating or coveting or
deceiving? No moralist will admit that such characteristics
are worth cultivating; but why not? They are a part of our
character — should they be left unperfected ?

The utilitarian has no difficulty in explaining why unselfish
ness should be cultivated, and selfishness repressed and opposed.
It is because unselfishness leads to the happiness of society and
selfishness leads away from it. On this view the prevailing
ideal of character is easily explainable, but on any other it is
not explainable at all. The perfectionist cannot give any rea
son why honesty is better than dishonesty, or altruism better
than egotism, except his personal preference. He has no better
test of right and wrong than his private taste, backed, it may
be, by the taste of the community in which he happens to live.

We might, if we pleased, enumerate every end other than hap
piness which mankind have proposed as ultimate, and should dis
cover them all to be proximate, if indeed they were useful ends
at all. It is a strange but only too apparent fact that moralists
are dismally ignorant of what they are really seeking. Long
fellow's attitude is typical :

" Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Finds us farther than to-day."

Each to-morrow should find us farther than to-day, should
it? Farther in what direction? This is the important ques
tion, and intuitionism cannot answer it. The fact is, that en
joyment is our destined end or way, and moralists, poets, poli
ticians, and platitudinarians may sound the immeasurable
depths of vagueness through all eternity without discovering
any other.

Be/ore leaving the present subject there are two doctrines re
lating to human conduct, opposed to one another and to the utili
tarian theory, which should be discussed as an incident of our
exposition. These are the doctrines known as free will and
fatalism. By contrasting them with the doctrine herein ex
pounded their relation to, and violation of, common sense will
become clear. Let us begin with free will.

Those who advocate the theory of free will claim that rmmnn

CHAP. Ill] UTILITY 153

conduct is not subject to the law of causation — that voluntary
acts are uncaused or free. Now they must mean either (1)
That volition is not causally related to acts, or (2) That volition
itself is uncaused. The first contention would mean that all
acts are involuntary — that it is futile to tell men to act in
this way or that, because even should they attempt to do so,
the acts resulting would have no relation to those which they
willed to do. If this theory indeed be true, our definition of
right and wrong becomes meaningless, since alternatives are non
existent and hence do not admit of selection. Should we, for
example, will to walk down the street some morning, we might
find ourselves climbing a tree, and it would be futile to attempt
voluntarily to prevent this act, however we desired to prevent
it, since our volition would have no causal relation to our act
or to its prohibition. On such an assumption men cannot do
what they like. It is unnecessary to say that this contention
not only violates the common sense theory of conduct as herein
expounded, but contradicts the universal testimony of observa
tion, that volition is causally related to action.

But perhaps those who contend that the will is free do not
support the first possible interpretation of their assertion, but
support the second one — that volition itself is uncaused. This
contention would mean that the distinctions between voluntary
and involuntary, and between right and wrong acts are real, but
of no service as guides to conduct. In this case, as in the first,
it would be futile to tell men to act in this way or in that,
since such advice could only affect their conduct by affecting
their volition; but as their "volition is uncaused it cannot be
affected by anything at all ; hence it is quite useless for any one
to advocate a guide to conduct, since no one could avail them
selves of it, even if they wanted to. On this assumption men
can, in general, do what they like, but they cannot, in any
degree, determine that which they, or anyone else, likes, since
this is indeterminable. Common sense, on the contrary, asserts
that not only can men do what they like, (within the limits of
the physically possible) but that that which they like is determi-
nable, or subject to causation. Hence it is useful to tell
men to act in* this way or in that; since, if they will to guide
their own conduct by the advice thus given, their volition will
causally affect their motives, which, being the determinants ot
other volitions, will determine their acts. Under these condi
tions the distinction between right and wrong is capable oi
serving as a guide to conduct, but not otherwise.

154 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

To bring out yet more distinctly the opposition between com
mon sense and the theory of free will let us examine the subject
of punishment. The utilitarian is, in general, opposed to the
infliction of pain; but punishment is painful. Does he there
fore deem all punishment wrong? Certainly not. Any means
which presumably results in the utilitarian end is right: hence
when punishment so results it is right, but not otherwise.
Therefore, pain, though never an ultimate end, may be a proxi
mate one. It may be used as a means to the utilitarian end,
and so may pleasure. In other words, the utilitarian regards
punishment and reward precisely as he does any and all other
means. If they tend to the end of utility they are useful;
otherwise they are not. Punishment has no relation to ven
geance, but is a means to the end of utility, and it seeks said
end by two routes: (1) By causing pain to him who commits
wrong acts it tends to prevent their repetition by the person
punished, through fear of repetition of the pain. (2) By caus
ing other persons to fear similar punishment it tends to prevent
the commission of similar acts by them. The only useful pur
pose of punishment therefore is as a preventative. The man
ner in which punishment (and reward) affect conduct is ex
plained in more detail in Chapter 9. It is perhaps unnecessary
to say that the pain inflicted in punishment should be the least
which will attain the end sought. From this brief explanation
of the utility of punishment the utility of reward will be ap
parent.

Obviously the utilitarian theory of punishment presupposes
that volition is subject to causation. In fact, common sense
holds that character is a cause of conduct, and hence that we
may infer character from conduct, just as we may infer any
other familiar cause from its effect. The free will theorist
claims that character is not a cause of conduct, because conduct
has no cause; and hence that nothing can be inferred of a
man's character from his conduct. The best acts might be
those of the worst character, and the worst acts those of the
best character. To punish a man for murder or any other crime,
for example, would, on this assumption, accomplish no useful
end, since as his conduct has no relation to his character, it
would not permit us to infer that any presumption had, by hi^
act been established that he would commit similar acts in the
future; and the punishment could not be instrumental in af
fecting the acts of others, since such acts would be unaffectable

CHAP. Ill] UTILITY 155

by any cause. Under such conditions punishment might grat
ify vengeance, but vengeance is not a useful end.

'The doctrine of free will is obviously utterly repugnant to
common sense, and even those who claim that they support it,
by their acts prove that they do not. Any man who attempts to
affect the conduct of others through their volition by persuasion,
advice, threats, or in any other manner, proves that he does not
believe in the theory of free will, and as every sane man has done
these things, and intends to do them again, more or less often,
it follows that no sane man believes in that doctrine, though
many think they do.

But, it may be objected, if the theory of free will be rejected,
if all acts are determined by the law of causation, what is the
use of trying to affect things — of trying to do anything? If
everything is controlled by causation, human effort can better
nothing, and hence all human effort is useless. This attitude
of mind is what is known as fatalism, and there is a very gen
eral belief that between free will and fatalism there is no alter
native. The generality of such a belief is one of the best evi
dences that the nature of common sense has never been really
apprehended; for common sense not only supplies an alterna
tive, but is itself the alternative.

The whole difficulty arises from misapprehension of the mean
ing of the word useful, just as the difficulty about the existence
of the external world arises from misapprehension of the mean
ing of the word existence. Hence, the chief question of ethics,
as of metaphysics, is a verbal question, and can be answered by
sufficiently defining a word. The ordinarily understood mean
ing of the word useful is sufficient for some purposes, but not for
this one. Let us see just how the fatalist deceives himself by
not understanding his own meaning.

The utilitarian expresses by the word usefulness a definite
quality of alternatives — a quality specified on page 145.
asserts that when men select alternatives having this quality
they have performed a useful act. What then can the fatalist
mean when he says the selection of such alternatives is use
less? Employing the words useful and useless in the utili
tarian sense such an assertion would be a contradiction in terms,

Evidentlv the fatalist is attempting to express something more
than a contradiction. Therefore he must imply by the term

usefulness a different quality from that implied by the uti

tarian,

Now the fatalist in saying that there is no use m doing any-

156 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [Boon I

thing, in making any effort, in performing any act, must mean
either (1) That all acts are equally useless, or (2) That to do
nothing at all is the only useful thing to do. If it is the first
meaning that the fatalist is trying to express, it is apparent
that he elects to employ the word uselessness to express the
common quality of voluntary acts, since no other meaning of
the word would justify his assertion. This quality is volition,
and so far as known no other, except consciousness, is universally
conjoined with it. Hence involuntary acts would be the only
useful ones. Of course with such a meaning of the word use
less, the assertion of the fatalist that all voluntary acts are useless
is true — but it is not interesting. It is merely saying that what
is, is. On the other hand, if the fatalist means that to do noth
ing at all is the only useful thing to do, he must mean by a
useful act the act involving minimum activity, or he must have
discovered some class of experiences universally conjoined with
the act of minimum activity, to the common quality of which he
gives the name usefulness. On the first supposition, his asser
tion is again only a way of saying that what is, is; this would
be uninteresting if true. On the second, his assertion would be
interesting if true, but it would not be true. The fatalist has
discovered no such class of experiences and would not pretend
that he had. The fatalist, or indeed anyone who deems fatalism
the only alternative of free will, is simply a confused person
who thinks that by doing nothing he can escape performing a
voluntary act. He forgets that the act of minimum activity, if
voluntarily selected, is as much a voluntary act as any other
and if not voluntarily selected, it is not a part of conduct. In
fact, so long as a being is capable of voluntary acts he must
select some alternative. Ft is impossible for him to do other
wise. The utilitarian in classifying voluntary acts into right
wrong, useful, useless, etc., thereby calls attention to the fact
that the selection of some will lead to greater happiness than
the selection of others. If the fatalist, or anyone else, says that
this distinction is a matter of indifference to him, very well —
his remark calls for no response; for either he does not tell the
truth, or he is incapable of pleasure and pain, and hence can
no more comprehend the difference between ri-ht and wrono-
than a man congenially blind can comprehend the difference
between red and green.

Fatalism indeed is not a belief; it is a mere form of words
used to confound the unreflecting mind. Consistent fatalists
like consistent advocates of free will, do not exist Indeed they

II

CHAP. Ill] UTILITY 157

could not exist long, since they would very soon die of starva
tion. Eating is not an act of minimum activity. To expose
these sophistries which have plagued philosophers for ages,
nothing is required but common sense, for common sense is as
applicable to philosophy as it is to farming. It tests the mean
ings of the words use, right, exist, etc., by the same methods
it would employ in the case of the words hat, or house, or
pea soup, and however opposed to immemorial usage the re
quirement may be, it insists that the first class of words must
have a definite meaning, just as the second class must have one,
in order to be of service to mankind.

The analysis of common sense here brought to a close, I be
lieve is sufficient for the purposes to which I design applying it.
I do not pretend that it is complete. To make it so would
require a work many "times longer than this one. In its formu
lation I have followed the scientific — not the historic method.
I have not endeavored to discover any universally applied cri
terion of meaning, of truth, or of right — indeed, I have shown
that such criteria do not exist, although they ought to. Criteria
common to all minds, however, do- exist, though they are not
consistently and universally applied by all minds. Such com
mon criteria I believe I have in the foregoing examination dis
closed, and upon the distinction betv/een them and all others,
have founded the distinction between common sense and all
other varieties of sense. I do not claim that all men at all
times test or have tested the intelligibility of terms by the cri
teria laid down in Chapter 1 ; that they test or have tested the
truth of propositions by a belief -judgment; that they test or
have tested the utility of acts by a use- judgment. I do claim
that they ought to do so.

The main difficulty with theories of morals thus far has been
that philosophers have sought a universal moral criterion when
none existed. To overthrow the utilitarian doctrine it has been
deemed sufficient to show that men sometimes do not act from
considerations of pleasure and pain; but such a criticism no
more invalidates the utilitarian criterion of morality than the
demonstration that men sometimes do not reason according to
the rules of the syllogism invalidates deductive logic. It is
merely a reminder that there is a difference between cor
rect and incorrect reasoning and conduct — between what ought
to be, and what is. This has been long recognized in logic,
but criticisms of the theory of utility like that cited,

158 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [Boon I

show that it has not been recognized in ethics. I make no
claim that the production of happiness or the prevention of
pain are the only ultimate ends which determine the acts, even
of egotists. Acts may have many ultimate ends. The end may
be determined solely by habit, and often is; more often it is
individual happiness only which is sought, and this, as in the
acts of revengeful or malicious characters, may be found in the
unhappiness of others. What I do claim is that though manv
ends may be possible, only one may be right.

The criteria of intelligibility, of 'truth, and of utility are not
inventions; they are discoveries. Philosophers can no more
invent them than Newton could invent the law of gravitation
The uniformities of nature and of human nature are alike dis
closed by an examination of the mind. They are uniformities
of mind — indeed they could not be uniformities of anvthing
else, since nothing else exists.

m In this and the preceding chapters I have sought to estab
lish, and elucidate by discussion, the fundamental definitions
and postulates upon which the science of public and private
morals must be founded, for like other sciences that of morals
must rest on definitions and postulates (or axioms). It mav
be that with the meanings I have given the words correct and
incorrect, truth and untruth, certain and probable, right and
wrong and the rest, the reader may take issue - it may be
that he will challenge the meaning which I have given the word
meaning itself. To this I take no exception; bi/I subm it that
a communicable philosophy is possible at all, to these terms of
fundamental import a meaning must be assignable, and, if
assignable, one or more criteria must be recognized by which
a meaning may be distinguished from that which is not a mean
ing It is not sufficient to commence by defining our funda
mental terms -we must first define definition We muT in
vestigate the nature of a meaning in order that our symbol
may not consist of mere sounds. Hence if the reader deem
that the science of morals should rest on definitions different
"nTb? ^ ^P11" him fost satisfy himself wla
means by a meaning. Having established his tests of •
^ untrul, n* °Ld

or

If hv T ' 8ub1mit them to the tests thus es-

Ji by this means, definitions more suitable th-ii

CHAP. HI] UTILITY 159

discuss the subject, without assigning definite meanings to the
fundamental terms involved. If an issue between the meanings
herein set forth and others, testable and tested, may be raised,
it would be time well spent to debate their respective claims
to recognition ; but such an issue to have any interest must be
between one distinct meaning and another. It must not be
between a meaning and no meaning. Such an issue may no
doubt bo raised, but so far as I can discover, it has not yet been
raised. In the absence therefore of alternative meanings, 1 shall
adhere to my own, trusting to future criticism to correct them
if they tend to mislead.

Having now in our possession the criteria of common sense,
we may proceed to examine some of the principal modes of
deviation therefrom, without danger of making mere fortuitous
differences of opinion the foundation of criticism. We shall not
make received opinions the test of truth and right, but shall
make truth and right the test of received opinions. Common
sense shall be the criterion of custom, instead of custom the
criterion of common sense. This procedure, though unusual,
is wiser than generally believed.

CHAPTER IV.

ERROR

Judgments, whether of belief or of use, which derive their
authority from any source other than common sense, are called
errors, and error is their common quality. Error, or deviation
from common sense, is of two classes : (1) Abnormal. (2) Nor
mal. To varieties of the first class the names insanity or ec
centricity are attached, according to their degree of deviation,
and to varieties of the second class are attached various names
such as orthodoxy, piety, conservatism, etc.

In the study of mental pathology alienists have been able to
recognize insanity, or abnormal deviation from common sense,
as of several distinct kinds or classes. Our analysis of com
mon sense will enable us to classify normal deviations in a
similar manner. Not that the varieties to be discussed are con
fined to normal error — they are common to abnormal error as
well — and may all be regarded as kinds or classes of mania,
of such universal extension that we may say no one in the world
is entirely free from them. They are of three classes: logo-
mania, ' proteromania, and pathomania. Let us discuss them
briefly in order.

Logomania (Gr. Ao'yos - word : fwvia = madness) is a conse
quence of the necessity which men are under of thinking in
symbols, and arises from confusion in the use of those symbols.
Because reasoning requires the mental manipulation of symbols,
men fall into the error of supposing that the mental manipula
tion of symbols is reasoning. Thus they substitute the empty
forms of thought for thought itself, deeming that a sound has
meaning because it is articulate — they think of, instead of
with, symbols. Logomania is the most universal of all forms
of mania, arising as it does from a universal necessity of thought.
As already shown, the questions of the existence of the exter
nal world and of free will and fatalism — the two most per
plexing questions in philosophy — are purely verbal, and would
never have arisen except for logomania. A few of the strongest
intellects have succeeded in freeing themselves from protero-

160

CHAP. IV] ERROR 161

mania, but none from logomania, and I may predict with con
fidence that whatever errors may be discovered in the present
work will be due to this pervasive weakness of the human
intellect, for I cannot hope to escape the infirmities which have
so universally beset acuter minds.

Every variety of sophistry is fostered by logomania, and it is
doubtful if other forms of mania could maintain their domin
ion in the normal mind were logomania dislodged, for words
are as well adapted to the concealment as to the expression of
truth. In all departments of human thought delusions are
concealed by phrases, such as "the point of view," "the dis
crepancy between theory and practice," and others, by which
evidence is nullified and inconsistencies reconciled. So insep
arable are expressions of this character from sophistry that they
may well be called sophist's companions.

From logomania spring the various forms of mysticism,
metaphysical, theological, and political, and the low standard
of comprehension pertaining thereto. A mystic deems that he
understands a proposition if he is familiar with the sound of its
terms. This substitution of sound for sense results in paralysis
of the understanding and a love of vagueness for its own sake
which may develop into a kind of pathomania. So influenced
are some persons by the poetical or rhetorical dressing to their
truth, that were we to express the proposition that two and two
are four in sufficiently obscure and rhythmical language they
would hail the effort as the inspiration of a seer. Indeed I
confidently expect that a common criticism of the utilitarian
ideal as herein set forth will be that it is too distinct — too
definite — that quantity of happiness, considered as a magni
tude — as something capable of definition and measurement,
like pig iron or coal, is altogether too unworthy and vulgar an
object for high-minded human beings to seek. It is the custom
of the time to refer to ideals in obscure and figurative language,
and if the sound value of their expression can be enhanced by
giving it poetical form, they are deemed particularly worthy
of respect. Should I proclaim the elevation of humanity, the
regeneration of mankind, or the ennobling of the race, as the
object of human endeavor, I should doubtless have no difficulty
in getting people to agree with me, and general agreement would
be easier to secure from the fact that no one would have any
clear idea of just what it was to which he was agreeing. No
doubt this system has its advantages, but if we are content with
the vague lucubration thus substituted for the discussion of a
11

162 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE

common sense ideal, we must be content to leave the question of
right and wrong in the chaos in which we find it, and we shall
have need of all the question-begging epithets which the lan
guage can afford in order to "reconcile" contradictions and
" interpret " absurdities. He who deems the value of an ideal
is to be measured by its indistinctness will certainly have no
sympathy for that of utilitarianism.

Logomania leads to at least one other important class of errors
besides those which arise from the equivocality and avocality of
terms. This class originates from a process which may be
termed verbal emasculation. Terms which from custom or other
habitual association have, in the popular mind, come to be re
garded as important — as expressing some vital object of, or
distinction in, experience — are used to express something of
little or no importance. Thus the mind is misled by its sym
bols,, and distinctions of no real consequence to sentient beings
come to serve as guides to conduct. Sometimes terms are pur
posely emasculated by dishonest persons with intent to deceive,
but more frequently the process is spontaneous, resulting as
often as not in self-deception. Inferences in which emasculated
terms are employed lead to propositions which, though true,
are of no interest. Examples of emasculation will be pointed
out in the next book. Hence we need not stop to illustrate the
process here.

Proteromania (Gr. Tr/oorepov = prior: futvut = madness) is the
name of that form of deviation from common sense which
substitutes priority for reasonableness as the test of truth and
right. Next to logomania it is the most universal of all forms
of mania. The victim of proteromania believes that doctrine,
or approves that precept which first finds lodgment in his mind.
Thenceforth, it holds its place through priority of possession
and reason cannot dislodge it. Thus arise both logical and
ethical dogmas corresponding to deviations from a belief- and a
use-judgment respectively.

So universal is this tendency that when, through the acci
dents of history or the conflict of opposing views, the logical
or moral codes of a people are altered, it merely results in dis
placing one dogma by another, and this process has operated
in all departments of thought, no real progress resulting, until
the inductive method, by degrees gaining a foothold, has dis
placed dogma and substituted knowledge for ignorance. It was
by such displacements of dogma that modern civilization arose.

Intuitionists, or those who distinguish the correct from the

CHAP. IV] ERROR 163

incorrect by discovering what convictions are, and what are not,
in their minds are usually victims of proteromania. What they
believe they call true — what they disbelieve they call untrue —
what they approve they call right- — what they disapprove they
call wrong — and they measure probability by the strength, in
stead of by the origin, of their convictions. A dogmatist is an
intuitionist whose convictions are those of his own community
or some particular class thereof. Dogmatism is merely the
commonest form of intuitionisra. So frequently shall we have
occasion to refer to this ubiquitous opponent of common sense
in the following pages that further discussion of its nature at
this point is superfluous.

Scarcely less general than, and closely allied to, proteromania
is pathomania (Gr. waflos = sensibility : /uavta = madness), which
results from the employment of emotion or sentiment as a
substitute for judgment in distinguishing truth from untruth,
and right from wrong. The pathomaniac will reject any prin
ciple or precept which he dislikes to believe or approve, and
recognizes truth and Tightness by a kind of feeling, which is only
to be distinguished from the intuition of the proteromaniac by
its emotional nature. The violation of this feeling he looks
upon with horror, thus regarding morality as a kind of hys
teria, instead of a branch — and the main branch — of common
sense. The sophist's companions most in use by pathomaniacs
usually include the words holy, sacred, divine, and they are fond
of referring to the higher thought or the spiritual life. They
are generally persons of excellent character, but their conduct
fails to get the benefit thereof because they make emotion a
guide, as well as a motive, to conduct. Gunpowder is an ex
cellent means of impelling a projectile, but a poor means of
guiding it. In conduct, as in shooting, the means of direction
and the means of impulsion should be distinct. Emotion is not
a useful guide, though it may be a useful motive, to action.
Common sense is the only useful guide and to substitute for it
any emotional impulse is to imitate the conduct of animals.
Emotions can no more aid in distinguishing right from wrong
than in distinguishing truth from untruth.

The three forms of mania discussed, combined or uncom-
bined, are responsible for practically all, if not all, of the normal
deviations from sense to which mankind are subject. Although
conspicuous in every phase of human activity, the most baneful
influence of these errors is that involved in the corruption which

164 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

they introduce into the various codes of morals, and of public
morals in particular.

It needs but the most superficial observation of the usages
of society to discover that standards of public conduct are varia
ble in a high degree. Public acts are accepted or rejected
approved or disapproved, on many distinct grounds. The deter
mining distinction may be that between right and wrono- expedi
ent and inexpedient, economic and uneconomic, just and unjust
Christian and unchristian, conservative and radical or any other
which circumstances may suggest. I deem it unnecessary to cite
examples oi the application of such standards. The editorial
page of the first newspaper which the reader may take up will
probably afford several. This being the case, it becomes pert -
nent to inquire what relation these standards bear to one
another. Are the various antithetical terms we have cited merely
a series of synonyms? Are the distinctions expressed by them
m reality the same distinction, which, by the decree of custom
has come to be expressed by terms different in sound and with
every ^ outward and visible sign of being different in sense? If
not, how is it that we may employ any one of them we please
as a standard of public conduct. Suppose, for example that a
given act is admitted to be economic. Is it theref oreP r%ht ex
pedient, just, Christian, and conservative? Or may anW
nomic act be wrong, or unjust, or radical? Similarly mav a
just act or a right one be sometimes uneconomic, unchristian and

standard and unacceptable to other* Of court if

the first hypothesis, and agree that all these ^ other TtanS

economic, just, and conservative" anH the TrT t™ ^ ^
inexpedient, and unchristian. By what criterion £ *"
gmded in such a dilemma' Obvimflv T«^ i°W We
standard by which to judge of fflff Without'ft

CHAP. IV] EKROR 165

be without any guide whatever ; but with it we should possess
a guide which would render all other guides subordinate, since
a criterion which is a standard of standards, i. e., an ultimate
standard, must be one to whose decree the decree of all prox
imate standards must be subordinated. Hence if it be once ad
mitted that right and wrong furnish a standard by which to judge
the policies of nations or of society, it is at the same time admit
ted that there is no other. If it be denied, then right and wrong
are completely valueless as standards, and until some other is
proposed, all suggestible public acts are equally worthy of ap
proval, any one being as good or as bad as any other.
ever standard men may prevail upon themselves to accept^ this
much is certain: it must be either one or none, for there is no
middle ground.

It would seem as if this matter ought to be plain to anyone
capable of thinking clearly, but unfortunately clear thinking
since the time of Bentham has been banished from ethics. Thus
Professor Hyslop after discussing the several theories of conduct
with characteristic confusion concludes thus :

" No one theory therefore is complete, but taken alone is one
sided, and requires the others to supply its deficiencies. This is in
accord with common sense, which judges of particular cases about
as described and only gets into difficulty when some theoris
unjustly asks it to explain its consistency, presuming that ther<
should be but a single simple criterion of morality, when in lact
it is synthetic or complex." x

It may be remarked that it is a curious variety of common
sense which " gets into difficulty when some theorist unjustly ( ?)
asks it to explain its consistency." Seldom have we seen such
an explicit attempt to establish, once for all, the proposition
so dear to the affections of every sophist — that what is, is not.
He who maintains a compound (or synthetic) standard of
morality necessarily asserts that proposition. To claim that the
moral value of conduct can be measured by several ultimate
standards not mutually convertible is as absurd as to claim
that distance can be measured not only in such mutually con
vertible units as feet, meters, rods or miles, but equally well in
bushels, acres, tons or amperes. A properly qualified logo-
maniac would probably tell us that the applicability of one or

i Elements of Ethics, p. 395.

166 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

the other of these standards to the measurement of distance
would depend upon "the point of view/' since distance being
something " synthetic " is to be measured by several standards,
and common sense should not "unjustly" require consistency
among them.

In the endeavor to reconcile the conflicting standards of pub
lic conduct a good many sophist's companions are in common
use, such as ethically considered, morally considered, econom
ically considered. We are told that a standard must not be
carried " too far/' that theories " have their limitations " and
that much depends upon the "standpoint." Such phrases are
lutile as a means of reconciling the irreconcilable. They are
but verbal disguises for a real standard of public conduct, which
under varying circumstances assumes various names, and that
standard is custom.

The examination of the human mind undertaken in Chapters
1, 2 and 3 has supplied us with a standard — the simple
standard of right and wrong — and in the light of common
sense so supplied, we shall examine the prevailing political do°--
mas which at the present time supply such standards of public
conduct as are available. I shall not attempt a complete dis
cussion of this subject, but shall confine attention to four of the
mam political delusions of the day. These are: First, that in
dividuals have inalienable rights: Second, that natural laws
are or tend to be beneficent : Third, that political economy™
the science of wealth and supplies a useful guide to public con
duct. Fourth, that conservatism is caution.

(1) The Declaration of Independence asserts that "all men
are endowed by their Creator with certain untenable BHts

™ I*™11? ,tl6S,e af.Lifej Libert^ and the pursuit of Happ 1
and the doctrine of inalienable rights sometimes caller!
natural rights, as laid down in the Declaration TSted in
theory, with practical unanimity by the people of this count A
and indeed the same principle is, and has been accepted fiv
other enlightened nations. It is commonly supposed to embody
e~t Von"6 W!° GXCrCiSG the le^%e function of govl

th,B alleged gn.de to national conduct is and what rektion if
any, it bears to the guide afforded by the doctrine of utility

CHAP. IV] ERROR 167

Bentham tells us that a law is either a command or the revoca
tion of a command. The command or revocation can be ad
dressed only to intelligent beings, and it must either prescribe
or proscribe some specific act or class of acts. If the doctrine
of inalienable rights affords a guide to those charged with mak
ing the law, it must indicate some human act, or class of acts,
to the prescription or proscription of which their authority does
not extend. Now it is obvious that there is a class of acts
which it would be entirely useless to prescribe or proscribe;
those namely which are physically impossible. Can it be these
to which the doctrine refers? If so, death would be a typical
inalienable right of men ; that is, a law forbidding it should not
be passed, since it would be a physical impossibility for men
to conform to such a law. It is physically impossible to pre
vent men from dying by law : similarly, it would be impossible
to make them subsist upon a diet of sand, or sleep while sup
porting themselves in an upright position. There are many
such inalienable rights, if by that term is meant acts which it
is physically impossible to prevent or bring to pass by law. That
this is not what is meant, it requires no discussion to show.
What then is an inalienable right? Are the words of the Dec
laration inserted therein simply for the purpose of pointing
out that there are certain classes of acts which are prescribed
or proscribed by law, and certain others which are not ; that the
law, as a matter of fact, does forbid some acts and does not
forbid others, and that the inalienable rights with which all
men are endowed are simply those which the law in the place
and at the time of the Declaration did not prohibit? If so,
inalienable rights are merely legal rights ; the right to commit
acts not already proscribed by law. If this is all that is meant,
it certainly was a waste of words to insert so palpable a propo
sition in the Declaration. No, this is clearly not what is re
ferred to. An inalienable right is not a legal, but a moral
right. It does not refer to what the law is, but what it ought
to be. It means that there are certain acts, physically possible
to human beings, which it is wrong to proscribe by law, and
hence that any measure which proposes to alienate such inalien
able rights is wrong. All rights not inalienable are, of course,
alienable — their legal alienation would not necessarily be
wrong. To determine then what rights ars inalienable and
what are not, we must know what we mean by wrong. It is this
fundamental question which men have failed to sufficiently ex
amine. The consequence of their logomania is that they have

168 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

fallen into the error of inferring that individuals have inalien
able rights. Let us assume for a moment that this doctrine
is sound — let us trace it to its legitimate conclusion., and ob
serve its astonishing consequences.

If inalienable rights exist they must be some particular
rights. Let us assume an individual X, who possesses a legal
right to commit a given act — call it A. If A is an alienable
right it means that if in the public interest a good reason can
be given for alienating such right — forbidding X by law
to commit it — that it may rightfully be so alienated. If A
is an inalienable right it means that whether in the public in
terest or not,, whether a good reason can be given for alienating
it or not, that it should not be alienated — that to alienate it by
law would be wrong. That is,, X has a right to commit the
act A, irrespective of the consequences to the rest of the world,
even if among those consequences is involved the destruction,
or the permanent misery, of society. Now it may be wrong to
alienate such an inalienable right, but if so, what can possibly
be meant by wrong? Certainly the meaning cannot be that of
the utilitarian.

_ I apprehend that to this it will be objected that inalienable
rights are all of them of such a character that by no possible
contingency could their preservation be antagonistic to the pub
lic interest; that it would be physically impossible for society
to suffer by the failure of the law to infringe them; that, in
fact, it must always be to the interest of society that they be
preserved. To this objection we may reply : How do you know
that by no possible contingency the securing to an individual
of an inalienable right will not work harm to the community?
Are you omniscient? If not, by what authority do you pre
judge the matter? To admit once for all that an individual
has a given inalienable right is to waive the privilege of exam
ining each case of the exercise of that right on its own merits.

According to the utilitarian definition of right, no one can
determine whether an act is right or not without considering
its presumable effect upon all sentient beings to whom its effects
are known to extend. Hence any doctrine which asserts, once for
all, that an individual, or any aggregate of individuals not in
cluding the whole of sentient society, has " certain inalienable
rights" and has them irrespective of what effect their exercise
may have on the rest of society, must be irrevocably opposed
to the principles of common sense as we have expounded them.
But to show the complete untenability of the doctrine, let any

CHAP. IV] ERROR 169

one select a right of an individual and attempt to consistently
maintain its inalienability. Take, for example, the rights men
tioned in the Declaration of Independence — life, liberty, and
the pursuit of happiness. Is life the inalienable right of men?
Is it wrong by law to command that under given conditions men
shall forfeit their lives, and to enforce that command? If so,
from what definition of wrong is such a doctrine deducible?
Wherever capital punishment is customary this inalienable right
is alienated, showing that in practice the doctrine of inalienable
rights is, sometimes at least, ignored. Is liberty an inalienable
right? It is alienated every time a criminal or a witness is
detained in jail. Is the pursuit of happiness an inalienable
right? Every act prohibited by law, in the commission of
which any individual might obtain happiness, alienates it. No
nation could exist as a nation without alienating such rights.
If the reader is inclined to object that such rights are limited
by law only under certain conditions, and in the public interest,
but that otherwise they remain inalienable, my reply is that this
is a surrender of the whole question at issue — it is an admis
sion that alienable and inalienable rights are precisely the same
thing; for, as we have already noticed, an alienable right is
one which may be alienated under certain conditions, i. e., in
the public interest. If a right is inalienable, it means, if it
means anything, that there are no conditions under which it
may be alienated. Otherwise it is merely an alienable right
and the whole doctrine obviously becomes completely valueless
as a guide to law-makers. The fact is that no single specific
inalienable right can be mentioned which any nation has agreed,
or would agree, to consistently recognize, and if there are no
specific inalienable rights, then there are none at all.

But, it may be asked, if the law-making bodies so persistently
ignore the alleged inalienable rights of individuals, if it is a
standard of legislative action only in name, how can it be
harmful to a, state which thus makes but an empty profession
of abiding by it? Why should we find fault with a shadow?
The difficulty is that the doctrine does supply a guide to na
tional conduct, but it is not the guide it pretends to be. It is
neither more nor less than a cloak, one of several to be discussed,
beneath which lies concealed the real guide, viz., custom, to the
decrees of which the theory of inalienable rights supplies the
semblance of authority. To illustrate: Suppose some enter
prising individual should secure title to a pass in the Eocky
Mountains through which a great railroad company desired

170 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BooK I

to construct a railway. Suppose he should attempt to block
the railway by refusing to sell a right of way through the pass,
and should claim that,, as he had an inalienable right to do
what he pleased with his own private property, any attempt to
take it from him by right of eminent domain would be in
violation of the fundamental law and the Declaration of Inde
pendence. Every one knows that no attention would be paid
to his claim and that he would be forced to part with his prop
erty in the public interest. Suppose that on the same ground,
viz., that of the public interest, it should be proposed to take by
purchase from the railroad company or from some other com
pany, such as a steel works or coal mining company, a title
to their property and vest it in the government. How would
such a proposition be received ? Some men indeed would justify
the act, for there is much disagreement as to the limitations
of the right of property — inalienable rights are shadowy things
and few there are who have the temerity to specify them; but
many, and perhaps most, persons would contend that the pro
posal contemplated the infringement of the inalienable right of
property, and that no legislature could pass a measure authoriz
ing such an act without doing wrong. The same men who would
justify taking private property in the mountain pass, deeming
it but the exercise of a well recognized right of the community,
would condemn taking the property of the railroad itself as an
act of unjustifiable confiscation. 'Now why is the inalienable
right of property ignored in the first instance and appealed to in
the second? Merely because it is customary to alienate the
property of individuals to permit the building of a railroad, but
it is not customary to alienate property in railroads, mines or
factories in the interest of the people. Custom is the real guide,
the doctrine of inalienable rights being but a means of conceal
ing it. Had the custom been exactly the reverse, the theory
of inalienable rights would have applied equally well.

m Let us put the question generally. Assume that some indi
vidual, or set of individuals, has, by some means or other a"-
quired the power to plunge mankind into permanent misery
Have they the right to do so? An advocate of the doctrine
• ^ahe^able rights would be compelled to answer this question
the affirmative, asserting that they- had such a right, provided
the means by which they acquired the power to exercise it were
of a specific kind; of some kind, namely, which individuals have
an inalienable right to adopt. The utilitarian would answer the
question in the negative, denying that they had any such right,

CHAP. IV] ERROR 171

whatever means they might have adopted to secure their power.

It is clear that common sense as embodied in a use-judgment
lends no authority to the doctrine of inalienable rights. This
doctrine has, in fact, arisen from the process of the substitution
of dogma. The dogma for which it is a substitute is that of the
divine right of kings. The political philosophers of the
eighteenth century rejected this dogma, and being unable be
cause of their sympathies and antipathies to frame a definition
of right and wrong upon which to found the science and art of
government, pursued the normal course of substituting ono
dogma for another, in so doing taking a step in the direction
of common sense ; for defective as is the doctrine of inalienable
rights, it is better than the dogma which preceded it. Not
apprehending that rights draw their authority from the struc
ture of the mind, they sought some other authority and while
denying that the Creator had endowed kings with the divine
right to rule, they made the mistake of asserting that He had
" endowed men with certain inalienable rights," failing to per
ceive that, under favorable conditions, individuals could avail
themselves of these rights to reacquire the despotic povver of
kings over the welfare and destiny of the people — a condition
of things which is at present to be observed in process of real
ization. Bentham more than a century ago perceived and ex
posed the untenability of the doctrine we are considering, and
commenting on the assertion of that doctrine in the Declaration
of Independence exclaimed " Who can help lamenting that so
rational a cause should be rested upon reasons so much fitter
to beget objections than to remove them ? "

But although the doctrine of inalienable rights is untenable,
the Declaration of Independence, which asserts that doctrine,
contains by implication the refutation of it; for, after proclaim
ing the rights of "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness/'
it proceeds to affirm : " That to secure these rights, Govern
ments are instituted among Men." That is, government is a
proximate end — a means. Following this it affirms : " That,
whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these
ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and
to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such
principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them
shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness."
Here we have an expression of the theory of utility or common
sense, and by means of the principle implied in it, we may
rectify the error which preceded. It will be noticed that life,

172 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BooK I

liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, are referred to as ends. It
is here that the difficulty enters. They, like government, are
proximate, and not ultimate, ends, and the error arises from
confounding the two. Life which contains no happiness and
leads to none is not an end useful or desirable, or one which it
is worth while instituting any means to attain. Similarly, lib
erty unless it leads to happiness is useless, and equally useless
is it to pursue happiness without securing it. Hence that which
the Declaration affirms of the proximate end government may
with equal propriety be affirmed of all proximate ends, that
whenever they become destructive of the ultimate end — hap
piness — " it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish "
them; and to institute new means, laying their foundations on
such principles as to them shall seem most likely to effect or
achieve their happiness. The Declaration indeed contains by
implication a refutation of the very doctrine it asserts. By the
interpretation of its own words the correct doctrine is revealed,
and it turns out to be the doctrine of utility. Thus in the
assertion that "all men ... are endowed . . . with
certain inalienable Eights," are we to understand the expression
"all men" distributively or collectively? Does it mean any
man? or the totality of men? It is customary to interpret it in
the first sense, and the Declaration itself, it must be admitted,
lends plausibility to the view. This interpretation leads to the
doctrine of individual inalienable rights which we have shown
cannot be reconciled with common sense. The other interpre
tation, however, inevitably suggests, if it does not actually
express, the doctrine of utility, for that doctrine asserts that the
totality of men — i. e., society — is endowed with a right
which, by definition, it is wrong' to alienate — the right namely
to have any and all means adopted which shall lead to the
maximum output of happiness, and such means involve rights
which are truly inalienable. Thus inalienable rights are not
rights of individuals, but of society; not rights of men, but of
mankind.

(2) Another distinction by means of which the conduct of
nations — and even of individuals — is judged is that between
the natural and the unnatural, and particularly between that
which conforms to natural law and that which does not. We hear
much said by public men and read much in newspapers about
the natural laws of exchange, of supply and demand, &c. Plati-
dmanans discourse at length upon the natural sphere of
woman, and physicians sagely tell us that our bodily ills are

CHAP. IV] ERROR 173

due to violation of nature's laws The implication seems to
be that there is something intrinsically beneficent in nature's
methods, and we are frequently told that free trade, for ex
ample, is a beneficent policy because it is the natural law of
trade, while artificial restrictions on trade are baneful because
they violate said natural law. Indeed, natural laws are ap
pealed to almost as much as natural rights as guides to con
duct Before we can pronounce on the value of this standard
of action we must, as in the case of inalienable rights, discover
lust what it refers to. According to one meaning of the word,
nature is simply that which is, and hence all acts are natural
because they are part of what is. This is clearly not the mean
ing implied. Again the term natural law, or law of nature, is
applied by men of science to certain unvarying uniformities to
be observed in the universe about us, such as the laws of gravi
tation, of the reflection of light, the conduction of heat, &c.
It cannot be these laws which are referred to, since men have
never discovered a method of violating them, and hence would
require no warning not to do so. There is, I believe, but one
other distinction to which the standard can refer,
that between the acts of nature alone, the effects which occur
or would occur if man were without volition altogether, and
those which are affected by the volition of man.
tainly the distinction between the natural and the artificial; but
if this is the distinction referred to, then any and every vol
untary act is a violation of natural law. Those who hold to
the value of the standard would probably be loth to admit that
it involved any such corollary, and yet reduced to its legitimate
conclusion, this is just what it involves. By an inspection of
the mode in which the attempt is made to apply it, its absurdity
becomes apparent.

We have only to look about us to see that it would be very
poor policy to interfere with many of the practices of nature.
Trees naturally grow with their roots downward and their
branches upward and we should get unsatisfactory results should
we attempt to make them reverse their position. Nature has
decreed that men and animals shall breathe air, shall eat al
buminoids, fats and carbohydrates, and shall drink water, and
we should certainly come to grief should we attempt to violate
her decree in these regards. It is natural for husband and wife
parent and offspring, to feel affection for one another, and
very poor results would be obtained were nations to discourage
this feeling or any other altruistic impulse. But there is a

174 THE PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BooK I

great difference between admitting that some of nature's prac
tices are beneficent, and admitting that all are. Nature never
kindles fires for the purpose of giving warmth to sentient be
ings. Should we therefore fail to heat our houses in winter?
Men in a state of nature do not live in houses,, and wear no
clothes. Should civilized men, discarding artificiality, go and
do likewise ? In their wild natural state, men have no govern
ment, for government is a result of some artificial agreement
and concession between men. Should government therefore be
abolished? It may be called to our attention that a man who
has wrecked his body and mind by the use of liquor owes his
unhappiness to the violation of nature's laws, for certainly man
in his natural state drinks no liquor. Yet curiously enough
when an attempt is made to cure him the very physician who
has been prating about "nature's laws" subjects him to arti
ficial medicinal diet or restraint. He would not think of act
ing upon his precepts, and attempting to make his patient return
to a true state of nature. We may see in the newspapers an
account of some depraved fellow who has been caught beating
his mother. It is probable that the act will' be branded as un
natural, inviting us to infer that it is therefore abominably
wrong. But it is not its unnaturalness which makes it wrong.
Would the act be any better if it were natural? Or suppose
the act remaining unnatural, the woman were so constituted
that a beating was to her a source of joy — caused her pleasure
instead of pain — would it still be a wrong act to beat her?
Obviously not. In fact, it is clear that the distinction between
natural^ and unnatural is of no value as a guide to conduct, and
no one is, or can be, consistent in advocating it. As examination
shows, it is merely another disguise for custom. In cases in
which it is customary and usual to substitute the artificial for
the natural, no one ever thinks of appealing to such a standard
as natural law ; but in cases where the custom is not sufficiently
settled, those who disapprove, casting about for some ground's
for disapproval, will take up with this one if none better is at
hand, and proceed to prose about the violation of nature's laws.
So far as this standard has anything to do with reason at all
it is the result of a « doctored " induction. It has been ob
served that some of nature's practices are beneficent, and by
carefully disregarding those which are not, the conclusion has
been reached that to conform to natural laws is better for men
and nations than not to conform to them. It is the old story.
The hits are counted and the misses are ignored.

CHAP. IV] ERROR 175

(3) Closely connected by bonds of the dogmatic sanction with
the error of natural beneficence are the doctrines of the pre
vailing or dogmatic school of political economy. Political
economy is, by definition, the science of wealth, and a definition
may not be disputed ; hence when I affirm that political economy
is not the science of wealth as it pretends to be, I have no in
tention of affirming that the term is not defined in the manner
specified. What I do intend to affirm is that the science of
which that term is the name cannot properly be termed the
science of wealth — that to so term it is misleading. It might
with more propriety be called the science of the production and
exchange of wealth, and the prevailing school of economy has
an even more restricted scope. It deals only with the subject
of the production and exchange of wealth under the capitalistic
system. A useful system of political economy should treat of
the production and exchange of wealth as they affect human
happiness. Hence it should include the science of the con
sumption of wealth.

From its connotation and from the claims of those who
expound the science, we should be led to the belief that the
term political economy refers to an assemblage of precepts
adapted to guide the polity of nations or of society — to the
economy of that which it should be the object of society to
attain. Now by the accepted definition, political economy means
the economy of wealth. Hence, unless the term be entirely mis
leading and inappropriate, wealth is that which it should be
the object of society to attain, and the assemblage of precepts
adapted to the economical attainment of wealth are those which
should guide the polity of nations. But is wealth a primary
or a secondary object of endeavor? Is it an ultimate or only
a proximate end? Clearly it is but a proximate end. It has
been the object of a previous chapter to show that happiness,
or the total surplus of happiness, should be the only end — the
only object of any voluntary act — hence in saying it is the ob
ject which society should seek to attain, we but make an imme
diate inference from the definition of right. The term political
economy then, as defined, is a misleading one. It should refer,
not to the economy of wealth, but to the economy of happiness;
and the assemblage of precepts employed to guide the polity of
nations or of society should not lie those adapted to the eco
nomical production of wealth, lint those adapted to the econom
ical production of happiness. In this confusion of wealth with
happiness we have another example of confounding a means

176 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

with an end, and one which has led, and is leading, to dire
results for mankind.

To the particular deviation from common sense involved in
the employment of the economic standard we may give the
name production-madness or practomania (Gr. TrpaKTov = product :
fjuivuL = madness) since it regards production as an ultimate,
instead of a proximate, end. It is a form of mania particularly
prevalent at the present time and the prevailing commercialism
is its natural consequence. Practically all the leaders of po
litical thought in our day are more or less affected by it, and
hence arises their prattle about trade, exports, imports, com
modity output, etc.

But again we may expect some critic to object that after all
the distinction between wealth and happiness is of little prac
tical consequence, when the means and end are so closely re
lated; for is not the richest nation the happiest nation? Our
reply is that it is not necessarily the happiest — that it is not
even probably the happiest. Other things being equal, that
nation will be the richest — will accumulate wealth most rap
idly — whose production is a maximum and whose consumption
is a minimum — but will it be the happiest? Obviously not.
We must first formulate the laws which reveal the general quan
titative relation between happiness and wealth before we can
appreciate the relation of the economy of wealth to a true po
litical economy.

Political economy is as incapable as archseology of being
usefully applied. As at present taught, it is a purely descriptive
science. It may inform us what society has done, is doing, or
is likely to do — but it cannot tell us what it ought to do —
it cannot be applied — and this for a very obvious reason. An
applied science is one that supplies a guide to the acts of men,
and such a guide cannot be supplied unless the object of the
acts is known. Before any science can be applied as a guide
to the polity of nations, it must recognize and specify what it is
thaj: nations are, or should be, trying to do. This first require
ment of an applied science political economy fails to meet.
Hence it is incapable of being usefully applied, though it may
be, and is, misapplied.

Upon the science of political economy the economic standard
of public conduct is founded, and as political economy is a
true _ science, being founded on definitions and using the in
ductive method, economic reasons for acts or policies have more
plausibility than those derived from the standards previously

CHAP. IV] ERROR iff

discussed. Yet the economic standard becomes in practice little
more than another pretext for the dominion of dogma. It adds
one more apparent sanction to the control of custom. Its ap
plication is as inconsistent as that of the standards afforded
by the doctrines of inalienable rights and natural beneficence.
Is it right in the management of industry to throw a great
number of men out of employment by the use of machinery,
thas reducing the production per capita of some of the laborers
to a minimum in order to make the production per capita of
the remainder a maximum? Is it right to make men, women
and children engage in as much productive labor per day as is
consistent with preserving their power of future production?
Yes, we are told these things are right because they are economic.
Would it be right to- put to death all old and otherwise incom
petent persons incapable of producing as much wealth as they
consume? No, it would be acknowledged that this would not
be right. But why not? It would certainly be economic, and
according to the dictum in the first case, what is economic is
right. Now why is the economic standard deemed applicable in
the first case and inapplicable in the second? Because it is
customary to apply it to cases of the first class and not customary
to apply it to cases of the second class, and that is all we can
say. Hence the real standard is custom again, and the dis
tinction between economic and uneconomic is merely a means
of concealing the fact,

(4) The three standards we have examined have arisen from
the confusion of means with ends. Like all standards which
meet with any favor at all, they are blundering attempts to
attain the utilitarian standard. It is doubtful if custom would
long sanction a standard completely subversive of utility. The
sanction it has accorded, and still accords, to asceticism would
seem to imply that no doctrine can be too absurd for custom
to endorse, but even asceticism is practised with a view to future
happiness, the expectation of bliss after death being the real
motive to action. The confusion of means with ends is not
the only result of ignorance of the nature of common sense.
One of' the standards much in favor at the present time is
founded on an interesting but clumsy attempt to apply a use-
judgment to the affairs of nations. I refer to that standard
which attempts to determine whether an act is right or wrong
by discovering whether it is conservative or radical. It may
distinguish the means from the end, but does not recognize tht
correct relation between the two.
12

178 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

Let us first consider conservatism; and contrary to the usual
practice, let us first try to discover its meaning. When we are
told that a given policy is conservative, what useful information
is conveyed to us? What characteristics are implied by the
term conservative, a knowledge of which can aid us in an esti
mate of the value of a course of conduct which possesses them ?
Two distinct meanings in which this term is used are detectable.
According to the first, a conservative policy is one which will
not materially deviate from that at the place and period pur
sued. According to the second, a conservative policy is a safe
or cautious one. In its first meaning, therefore, conservative
simply means customary, and no discussion of this meaning is
required, since custom as a standard is a too familiar friend.
An examination of the second meaning will reveal an interest
ing point in the natural history of error, for the misjudgment
to be noticed is not a rare or occasional one, but is almost as
common as that of mistaking a means for an end.

Now what is caution? It is evidently a quality of a use-
judgment. Moreover it is a varying quality. There are various
degrees of caution, and it will be generally conceded that there
is such a thing as too much, as well as too" little, caution. Just
the proper amount will lie between these two. This matter is
rather indefinite in most minds, but a simple illustration, show
ing to just what quality of a use-judgment it is convenient to
refer by the term caution, will make it clear.

Let us suppose three alternatives of two contingencies of
equal probability each, presented to a reasoning being. In alter
native A, assume the probable surplus of success to be 100 pa-
thedon-minutes, the probable surplus of failure 0, and hence the
presumption of happiness 50. In alternative B, assume the
surplus of success to be 1000, the surplus of failure — 500 and
the presumption of happiness therefore 250. In alternative C,
assume the surplus of success to be 5000, the surplus of
failure - 5100, the presumption of happiness being — 50. Now
according to our definition, of these alternatives B is the cor
rect one to select; but an over-cautious person would be likely
to select A; an under-cautious one to select C. The first would
attempt to justify his selection by pointing out that though A
does not offer as great an opportunity of happiness as offered
by B, still it offers a less opportunity of unhappiness — in fact
none at all. Hence in selecting it, less risk is run. The second
would attempt justification of his act by pointing out that
though C offers more opportunity of pain than B, it also offers

CHAP. IV] EKROR 179

more opportunity of pleasure. The risk is greater but the stake
to be won is also greater. Any one who has mastered the
exposition of a use-judgment given in Chapter 3 will see the
obvious incorrectness of this reasoning. Comparing A and B
it may be briefly stated thus: If A is the correct alternative
at any one time, it will be the correct alternative at any other
time, and hence will be correct every time. Suppose these same
alternatives, or alternatives whose presumptions of happiness
are respectively equal, are offered a great number- — say 1000
times: A will then be correct every time. But we have seen
that the presumption of happiness of an alternative is that
quantity which will be experienced, on the average, by the selec
tion of that alternative a great number of times. Hence by the
selection of A an average of 50 hedon-minutes per selection
or 50,000 hedon-minutes for 1,000 selections would be yielded;
whereas by the selection of alternative B, an average of 250
hedon-minutes per selection or 250,000 hedon-minutes for 1000
selections would be yielded. To admit then that the first selec
tion is better than the second is to admit that a smaller quan
tity of happiness is better than a. larger quantity — a moral
fallacy. The same reasoning would apply with even greater
force, should we compare alternatives B and C. Hence for
either an over- or under-cautious person to consistently main
tain their position would simply result in the assertion of a
moral fallacy; it would mean that they employ the word better
in the very sense in which common sense employs the word
worse, and the word correct in the sense in which common
sense employs incorrect. The utilitarian is neither under- nor
over-cautious, but just cautious enough; for whether a risk is
too great or not, he determines by a use-judgment alone, and
his selection is one which may consistently be maintained how
ever often the same alternatives, or their equivalents, are offered.
By a cautious act or policy then, it is convenient to mean one
having the correct degree of caution, which is none other than
a correct act or policy.

Now customary and cautious policies are often confounded
together; so much so indeed that the same name, viz. con
servatism, is applied to both. A man or a nation often consider
themselves cautious when they are only conforming to custom.
Custom is a product of tradition — caution of reason. When
conservatism is a product of reason, or a mental process super
ficially similar to reason, it proceeds something like this: The
policy pursued in the past has not given rise to any immoderate

180 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [BOOK I

evils. Therefore, in the future it probably will not. Though
we may gain little by it, we shall probably lose little by it ; the
probable surplus of success may be small, but that of
failure is small also. This reasoning is obviously incorrect.
Were it correct it 'would mean that every policy which at any
time had become customary was thenceforward cautious. Now
no one will acknowledge this: yet such reasoning seems quite
acceptable to the political theorists of our day and, of course,
inevitably leads to the confusion of that which is customary with
that which is cautious. There is really no relation between
them. A customary policy may be cautious or it may be in
cautious, but is generally the latter. Were a man to assume
that because he had added to the horizontal extension of a
block of brick houses that he could continue to add to the hori
zontal extension without achieving any evil results, his as
sumption would be a safe one, and compatible with caution, for
we have no reason to believe that the building of a fortieth or
fiftieth addition to the block would involve results any more
evil than building the third or fourth; but were he to assume
that because no evil results were evident from adding a fourth
story to a three-story house, a fifth to a fourth, a sixth to a
fifth, etc., that he could continue indefinitely to pursue the
policy of adding to the vertical height of his building until he
reached fifty, one hundred, or five hundred stories — his assump
tion would be an obviously unsafe one. His policy might be
conservative, but would it be cautious? The first policy carried
nothing within itself which made its continued practice unsafe.
The second by its own operation brought about such changes in
the system operated upon as to make its continued practice
unsafe. Tn order to clearly distinguish between policies or
operations having these two divergent characteristics, we shall
call those which by their own operation produce changes which
modify the effects of their continued operation, a eerier alive poli
cies. Those which do not we shall call non-accelerative. Ac
celerative policies may be of two kinds: (1) Those the pursuit
of which yields a progressively better result — these we may call
beneficently accelerative. (2) Those the pursuit of which
yields a progressively worse result, these we may call malef-
icently accelerative. It is clear that one kind of accelerative
policy may pass into the other. Now, conservative policies may
belong to either or neither of these classes, but their tendency
> to become maleficent! y accelerative, and hence conservatism
may be only another name for incaution or danger. The dis-

CHAP. IV] ERROR 181

regard of this distinction is obviously dangerous, but that it is
disregarded we shall have occasion to uncontrovertibly demon
strate and the common confusion of the two meanings of con
servatism — a confusion sufficient to cause the two qualities to
be expressed by the same term — is particularly common among
men of high intelligence and training.

A radical policy is one opposed to a conservative policy.
Hence it may refer to that which is uncustomary or to that
which is incautious. The first implication is the same which
we have found cropping out wherever we have examined the
dogmatic standards. It underlies them all. The second dis
tinction is of little value as a criterion of public conduct, be
cause in order to decide whether a policy which is too cautious
or one which is not cautious enough is to be preferred, we must
know the relative degrees of under-caution and over-caution.
Radical policies are, in fact, condemned by the same shallow
reaconing whereby conservative policies are approved, viz. by
the confusion of customary with cautious, and hence of uncus
tomary with incautious policies. This removes the last vestige
of value from the distinction as one worthy to serve as a guide
to conduct. Knowledge of whether a proposed course of action
is conservative or radical then is not worth acquiring, since such
distinctions between them as are to be discovered have no par
ticular relation to that between right and wrong.

We might, if it were necessary, examine other standards of
political conduct for there are many such, some obsolete and
some becoming so. At different times and places different
standards prevail and they fluctuate like the fashions. One
characteristic, however, is common to them all — they never are
and never have been consistently practised. If we inquire why,
if natural processes are beneficent, we do not leave everything to
nature, or why, if the economic standard is a valid one, we do
not judge all public policies thereby, or why, if conservatism
furnishes a guide to conduct, any departure from it is approved,
we shall be told that none of these criteria must be applied
too rigorously — they must not be carried " too far." But how
far is "too far," and how far is "just far enough?" We
shall doubtless be told that common sense furnishes the answer
to such questions; but if common sense is competent to mark
the limit of authority of these standards, is it not competent to
displace them? If they do not derive their authority from
common sense, from what do they derive it ? And if they do, why
are they substituted for it? Why do we need to know whether

182 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [Boos 1

an act or policy is just, or economic, or expedient? Why is it
not sufficient if we know that it is right, for whatever is right
must conform to the dicta of common sense. If to this it is
replied that the dicta of common sense are not sufficiently
definite to constitute a guide to public policies, then we may
inquire how it comes about that they are sufficiently definite
to mark the limits beyond which the more definite standards
are invalid? The fact is that common sense holds a painfully
subordinate place as a determinant of these standards. A very
little observation serves to make plain that in the minds of
men, carrying a principle of conduct "too far" means carry
ing it farther than they approve of carrying it, or farther than
it is customary to carry it, and carrying it " just far enough "
means carrying it just as far as they approve of carrying it, or
as it is customarily carried. Custom is the real guide back of
these varying rules, though it is custom tempered by common
sense.

But, it may be objected, after all, is not custom an acceptable
substitute for common sense? Do not customs originate in the
experiences of a people ? Are they not the result of the teach
ings of experience? Are they not indeed the embodiments of
common sense? To judge by the uniformity with which tra
ditions are substituted for reasons, it would appear that such
views as these are widely accepted ; and yet who is there who will
admit that any customs except those of his own people and time
are the embodiments of common sense? Few persons are in a
position to judge impartially of the customs of their own coun
try, but the slightest inspection of the customs of other times
and peoples will convince anyone that if customs are derived
from experience^ they certainly are not derived by the scientific
method. Induction has been rather a check than a guide. Cus
tom, jndeed, can never take the place of reason: there is no
substitute for common sense, and we have already demonstrated
that the common standards of political action are' not only irrec
oncilable with common sense, but with one another since to

apply any of them consistently means to exclude the application
of any other, and to attempt any reconcilation by talking about
carrying a principle "too far" or "the disagreement of theory
and practice," is merely begging the question. It is the plainest
logomama.

Crude as are the political standards we have examined, the
dogmatic sanction has made them acceptable to men of trained
intelligence who would not think of applying such rules in their

CHAP. IV] ERROR 183

business, or in the common affairs of life. Even men of science
who deem themselves weaned from dogma, and who smile at
the solemn " reaffirmations " of belief in Adam and Eve, Noah's
Ark, etc., which theological conclaves occasionally indulge in,
accept these political traditions as unreservedly as a person of
confirmed orthodoxy accepts the teachings of Genesis. Let such
as these examine their own minds and reflect on the political
faith they find there. If they will but apply to it the test
of reason, they will discover that they are cherishing delusions
as crude, and in practice more baneful, than those they deride,
only their superstitions happen to be political instead of theo-
loojcal. Let them pluck out the dogmatic beam from their own
eye, and they will then be better able to perceive the dogmatic
mote which is in their neighbor's eye.

Criticism, however, is easier than creation, and destructi
simpler than construction. We have in this chapter employed
the standard of common sense in its destructive capacity. In
the next Book it will be employed in its constructive capacity.

We have at this stage cleared away some of the ranker dog
matic growths which, through the progress of the centuries, have
flourished in the rich mould of the world's ignorance, and on
the less obstructed ground thus prepared may proceed to rear
upon the foundation of common sense, already laid, the structure
of the economy of happiness; attempting no elaboration of
detail, but confining our efforts to riveting the skeleton work so
that it may, if possible, remain unshaken by the wholesome gales
of criticism. More fortunate than some preceding architects
of the social structure, we have before us a definite plan ot
procedure. At the very beginning, we know just what we pr(

pose to do.

That which society should seek to attain, the maximum sur
plus of happiness, may be referred to by different names ac
cording to the relation in which we think of it, e. g. the utili
tarian end, the end or object of utility, of society or of justice,
and so forth. It is in the nature of a perfectly definite mag
nitude. Quantities of pain or pleasure may be regarded as
magnitudes having the same definiteness as tons of pig iron
barrels of sugar, bushels of wheat, yards of cotton or pounds of
wool; and as political economy seeks to ascertain the conditions
tinder which these commodities may be produced with the great
est efficiency — so the economy of happiness seeks to ascertain
the conditions under which happiness, regarded as a commodity,
may be produced with the greatest efficiency — how the maxj-

184 THE PKINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE [Boon I

mum output of happiness may be achieved with the means avail
able. In order to ascertain what these conditions are, we need
to proceed as any manufacturer trained to his business would
proceed, were he endeavoring to ascertain how he could most
economically produce beer, or molasses, or oil, or tacks. He
would satisfy himself by the inductive or common sense method
what laws and resources of nature and of human nature were
available under conditions as he found them, and the means
thus available he would, to the best of his ability, adapt to his
ends. Our problem is a similar one, and we shall adopt sim
ilar means to solve it.

BOOK II

THE TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS
PART ONE — THEORETICAL

185

CHAPTEE V

THE FACTORS OF HAPPINESS

A criterion of conduct, the goal of all systems of intuitional
ethics, is but the starting point of the ethics of common sense.
The popular judgment that philosophy has no relation to the
practical affairs of life is only too well justified by much that
passes under that name, but it will be our aim hereinafter to
prove that such a judgment is entirely fallacious when applied
to the philosophy of common sense. An ethical system which
cannot be applied is a poor substitute for none at all. A
science is concerned with knowing — an art with doing; but
in order to do to any purpose we must first know what to dp.
Hence, arts are, or ought to be, founded upon sciences. Logic
is the science of sciences — ethics is the art of arts — and com
mon sense founds the art of arts upon the science of sciences
It founds ethics upon logic. The common sense criterion of
conduct has been formulated in the first book. The next step is
to discover how it may be employed as a guide to conduct, and
that step will be undertaken in this and the following book.

The end we aim at is the maximum output of happiness.
How shall we attain it? Now the mode of achieving the out
put we seek must depend upon the means available _f or achieving
it and these means consist of those portions of animate and in
animate creation affectable directly or indirectly by our acts.
Therefore, our next task must be to examine the possibilities
thus provided in order that we may learn how to adapt them
to our ends. The particular mode of operation required will
depend upon the structure and properties of the system through
which we must work; namely, upon the laws of nature and of
human nature as they are revealed to us by experience. Were
these laws different from what they are, the technology of hap
piness would be different from that herein to be expounded ;
and no doubt, means far better adapted to the end of utility
than those provided us by nature, may be imagined. But we
must take things as they are. The problem before us is, not
how the output of happiness might be made a maximum were

187

188 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT I [BOOK II

a perfect apparatus at hand, but how it may be made a maxi
mum with the means actually available. In order to make an
effective examination of the working substance of our system,,
attention will henceforth be confined to humanitarianism or
patriotism as those terms are defined on page 142, since by this
means the mode which we shall propose of increasing the totality
of happiness may be made clearer; and in the end the surest
means of advancing the utilitarian cause, will be to advance
that of humanity, since it is by the intelligent acts of man
alone, if by any means, that right may be made to reign throu^h-
out the sentient world. I shall then assume, for the sake of
simplicity, that man is the only sentient being whose happiness
may be affected by voluntary acts, and by a right act shall
generally mean that act among those physically possible, pre
sumably resulting in the greatest surplus of happiness among
men, and by a wrong act shall mean any alternative of a right
act. Occasionally, however, I may use the terms in their pa
triotic sense, making the assumption that the only sentient
beings in existence, or to be considered, are those of a given
nation.

We propose then, to attempt the foundation of the economic
policy of society upon a distinction no less simple and funda
mental than that between right and wrong, nor should any
insuperable difficulty be encountered in such an attempt The
distinction between them being understood with sufficient pre
cision, we may proceed with the same confidence that we should
in solving a. problem in physics or chemistry, knowing before
hand what goal we seek and adapting the available knowledge of

e age, so far as we may command it, to the attainment of
that goal : but we could not have made the first step had we
failed to take the not inconsiderable trouble to ascertain in just
what direction we desired to proceed. The science of trig
onometry and its applications in surveying, navigation me
chanics etc., could not have proceeded far, had our knowledge
of w,hat was meant by a triangle been confined to realizing that

had some relation or other to a plane figure, and that three
straight lines played some sort of conspicuous part in its make
up Similarly, knowledge that the distinction between ri-ht

1 wrong bears some relation or other to pleasure and pain
and that the pleasure and pain to be considered is not alone that

disPti^T f ' °P t0 \exPfienced> V ourselves is not sufficiently
distinct to serve as the basis upon which definite principles or
policies may be founded. Before clear thinking about 01? ex-

CHAP. V] THE FACTORS OF HAPPINESS 189

periences can be attained, words possessing clear meanings with
which to think and to communicate thought must be devised.
Having attempted to give the words right and wrong the re
quired clearness, we shall seek to found upon the distinction in
experience which they express, the principles of the economy of
happiness.

If there existed a being whose happiness curve at the present
time coincided with, and was in the future certain to coincide
with, that representing the happiness of humanity ( See p. 129)
it might with propriety be said that the interests of that being
were the interests of humanity or of society. -Let us assume
the existence of such a being and let us call her Justice. When
referring to this personification of justice we shall use a capital
letter to distinguish the word from that used in the ordinary
signification. Let us further assume (1) That no way of
altering her presumable future curve of happiness is possible,
save that of altering the curve of happiness of humanity with
which her own, by hypothesis, is and remains coincident. (2)
That the society she has to deal with is the society of to-day,
i. e. that she is offered the same materials to work with, the
same resources of nature and of human nature that are avail
able to the statesman. (3) That she is a perfect egotist and so
well aware of her own interest as never to be influenced by the
location, but solely by the quantities of pain or pleasure to be
experienced. The question for the lover of justice to decide
is: What are the acts or policies which Justice would pre
sumably approve? What would she do, or desire done, under
the circumstances in which we find ourselves placed ? Her acts,
of course, would be just acts, and a just act is a right one.

In order more clearly to apprehend the manner in which
Justice should go about attaining the maximum of happiness
which terrestrial conditions may afford, let us first consider a
more familiar case. Suppose an engineer who had at his dis
posal a limited domain affording coal and water, were required
to generate the maximum quantity of steam which the available
resources of the domain would permit. How would ^ he pro
ceed? He would, to begin with, ascertain the conditions or
factors, upon which the production of steam depends. He
would find first, that a boiler is required as a steam-generating
agency or mechanism; second, that said boiler must be fur
nished with a sufficient amount of coal to generate the steam,
and third, that a sufficient number of boilers must be provided
to consume the available output of coal. To obtain the maxi-

190 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAET I [BOOK II

mum generation of steam with a given output of coal, i. e. to
generate steam with the maximum economy then, three factors
must be considered: (1) The efficiency of conversion of the
boiler. (2) The efficiency of adaptation of the coal supply to
the capacity of the boiler. (3) The number of boilers required
to consume the output with maximum efficiency per boiler.

Let us assume for the sake of clearness that there are only
three types of boiler from which to choose. Suppose when
working at their best they have efficiencies of conversion as fol
lows: type (a) generates 8 pounds of steam per pound of
coal: type (b) 12 pounds of steam per pound of coal: type (c)
10 pounds of steam per pound of coal. Type (b) then is evi
dently the boiler of highest efficiency — that is, its conversion
of the potentiality of steam generation possessed by the coal
into an actuality is the highest, and it is therefore the one
to select. It is next necessary to ascertain under what
conditions this type of boiler attains its maximum efficiency
of adaptation. ^ Let us suppose by experiment our engineer
ascertains that it is most efficient when consuming 10 tons of
coal per day. That if, on the one hand, it is given any less,
the greater relative loss of heat by radiation diminishes its
efficiency, and if, on the other hand, it is given any more, some
ot the available heat is not absorbed in the boiler but passes
with the flue gases up the chimney, and thus again diminishes

;s efficiency. It is clear then that a, wise engineer one who

understands how to adapt his means to his end — will supplv
; type of boiler just 10 tons of coal per day. If now we
suppose the available output of coal from the given domain to
be 10,000 tons per day, it is clear that the number of boilers
required will be 1,000.

In a manner very similar to that whereby the engineer in
the foregoing example determines the factors upon which de
pends the maximum production of steam, Justice must seek to
etermme the factors upon which depends the maximum pro
duction of happiness. To simplify matters, suppose she has at
her disposal, a limited portion of the earth's surface, having
average natural resources, and suppose it to be uninhabited
r problem is to so utilize the available resources of the do
main as to produce the greatest surplus of happiness of which
s capable — the maximum surplus of hedon-hours per day
or ; ear. In attacking it she must, to begin with, distinguish the
factors of happiness production as the engineer distinguished
s factors of steam production. She will find, as he did that

CHAP. V] THE FACTORS OF HAPPINESS 191

there are three: First: just as a boiler is required to utilize
the potential energy of coal in the production of steam, so
sentient beings are required to convert the potentiality of hap
piness resident in a given land area into actual happiness, and
just as the engineers first care is to select a boiler having
maximum efficiency of conversion, so the first care of Justice
should be to populate the domain over which she has jurisdiction
with beings capable of utilizing the available resources in the
production of happiness, in a manner which will insure the
maximum efficiency of conversion. Second : following the anal
ogy of steam engineering practice, the policy of Justice must
be to insure such a relation of each sentient being to its en
vironment that in the consumption of the resources available the
greatest efficiency of adaptation of which the beings are capable,
will be attained. In this way she will secure the maximum
efficiency per capita. Third: she must so adapt the number of
beings to the resources available that the efficiency per capita
will be maintained a maximum. By the practice of such a
policy she will so utilize the available resources as to produce
by their consumption the maximum quantity of happiness which
they are capable of producing, and having done this she will
have accomplished all that under the given conditions it is
possible to accomplish. She will have done right.

If the arts did not advance, if the efficiency of boilers and
of the methods of coal mining remained always the same, an
engineer in solving the problem we have discussed, would need
to consider none but the factors of available resources, efficiency
of plant, and coal supply of same, and number of plants best
adapted to maintain said efficiency, but in the world as we
know it this is not true. The arts continually advance. Hence
the available resources may be made to increase by the use of
improved machinery, the efficiency of plant may be augmented
by similar improvements in the design of the boiler, or in burn
ing or handling the coal, and in this way the numbers adapted
to maintain maximum efficiency must be readjusted. Hence
the engineer requires a knowledge not only of the present con
dition of the arts, but of the methods whereby they may be ad
vanced, for were he ignorant of such methods and did he fail
to apply them to the improvement of his coal mining and steam
plants, he clearly could not obtain the maximum quantity of
steam which the available coal is capable of yielding. In
other words, it is a part of his duty to know how the condi
tions of steam production can be changed for the better.

192 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT I [BooK 11

Similarly, Justice in addition to a knowledge of the present
condition of the art of producing happiness, must, in order to
attain her end, know how said art may be advanced — how the
conditions of producing happiness may be changed for the
better.

In Chapters 6, 7 and 8, we shall consider in order the three
factors of happiness. (1) The sentient being or happiness-pro
ducing agent. (2) The adaptation of said agent to his environ
ment. (3) The number of said agents. In the first, we shall
consider the factors upon which efficiency in the production of
happiness depend, so far as they relate to the agent himself, and
the conditions best adapted to increase the efficiency or capacity
of sentient beings as happiness-producing mechanisms. In the
second, we shall consider how the environment of sentient beings
may be so adapted to them as to result in the maximum effi
ciency of production of happiness per capita. In the third, we
shall consider how the number of beings must be related to their
capacity for happiness, and the adjustment of the environ
ment to that capacity, in order that the efficiency per capita
shall be maintained a maximum. If we are successful in re
vealing in this discussion what the factors of happiness are, how
they are related to one another, and by what means the present
methods of happiness-production may be altered for the better,
then we shall have established the grounds of a code of political
morality related to the object which it is designed to achieve,
viz., justice, in a manner precisely similar to that by which the
Ten Commandments or the Golden Rule are related to the same
object, the only difference being in the mode of expression.
The precepts of most moral systems have always been so worded
as to be most obviously applicable to private morality. The pre
cepts of utility which I shall hereafter formulate will be so
expressed as to apply to public morality, but the object of both
is, or should be, the same, namely, to increase the totality of
happiness. And just as adherence to the former are but prox
imate ends, generally but not universally to be sought, so ad
herence to the latter are proximate ends of general but not
universal desirability. They constitute the first and funda
mental approximations to an ideal system, to be attained only by
a formulation of their exceptions into subsidiary policies, and
the formulation of the exceptions to these exceptions again into
policies of yet lower orders, until by successive approximations,
a system adapted to achieve the desired end, in a degree limited
only by the knowledge of mankind, may be realized.

CHAP. V] THE FACTORS OF HAPPINESS

193

This process of successive approximation to secure an ideal
of justice is best exemplified in the law. There is first laid
down a very general rule of law to guide the decisions of courts-
the exceptions to this rule are then themselves formulated into
subsidiary rules; the exceptions to these exceptions are again
systematized into rules, and so on, until the law becomes a vast
network of rules, and their successive exceptions, each in itself
subject to rule the attempt being to make the law sufficiently
definite to apply to any particular case which may arise. Were
the law based on the principle of utility it would constitute the
utilitarian code of morals of which we are in search, but strangely
enough the law seeks to attain justice without asking what
justice is. It nowhere defines, or seeks to define, justice and
yet if justice is its object, this should be its first task, and
if justice is not its object, what excuse has it for beino-? This
failure to found its precepts on definition distinguishes the law
±rom a true science. The law uses the scientific method very
largely to test the consistency of conclusions with one another
and with their premises, but with the premises upon which the
whole fabric rests it has no concern. It never examines its
premises which, as is well known, are but the crystallized cus
toms of former generations, customs depending upon the whims
of sovereigns, the superstitions of the vulgar, and the accidents
of history. That it so notoriously fails to attain justice then
is only what, with perfect confidence, might have been predicted
±rom a knowledge of its premises. It is, in fact, a science super
imposed upon a mass of dogmas and hopelessly infected by
them. No amount of consistency between premises and con
clusions can ever compensate for an invalid premise. If we
start an arithmetical problem by assuming that four times five
is twenty-eight, no degree of rigor in adherence to the multipli
cation table thereafter can compensate for the error. Had as
tronomy accepted as a permanent premise the dictum of Kepler
that the planets are guided in their orbits by spirits, it would
have remained but a branch of astrology to this day. Had
mathematics been founded upon the mysticism of Pythagoras
concerning the occult properties of number, algebra and geom
etry would be where theology and politics are now.

The schoolmen or pseudo-philosophers of the Middle Ages
followed the legal methods of to-day — that is, they insisted
that their premises and conclusions should be logically related
but the premises themselves were left to chance — to whatever
the prevailing traditions sanctioned. The jurisprudence of our

lo

194 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAET I [Boon II

day is similarly pseudo-philosophical. Law, in short., is applied
scholasticism mitigated by inconsistency.

The science which treats of the economy of happiness is, or
should be, an applied science — indeed its whole value is in its
application, and in the effort which we have made to found it
upon definitions rather than dogmas, those which constitute its
principal grounds, those, namely, of right and wrong, express a
distinction in experience than which none is more universally
conspicuous or more generally conceded to be that upon which
the policy of nations should be founded ; for even the dogmatic
economist would have to concede, if the question were plainly
put to him, that the only use of wealth is to augment pleasure
or to diminish pain. But a discussion of the economics of happi
ness would be of little service if it did not advance beyond
definitions. To say that a nation or society should do that
which presumably will result in the maximum surplus of happi
ness would be of little use. What society wants to know is

what can we do, how can we proceed, to' attain that maximum
surplus? What rules or precepts are deducible from the funda
mental definitions, which are adapted to guide the policy of
nations or of society? Such rules, or at least the more funda
mental of them, we shall attempt to formulate; but it must be
understood that they arc general and not universal rules, and
therefore any single or scattering exceptions to them which may
be cited cannot invalidate them. When I assert that the totality
of happiness would be increased by an equal distribution of
wealth, for example, I do not intend to assert that no par
ticular case of equalization could be discovered or imagined
which would not increase that totality. On the contrary, there
are exceptions to the rule, and this fact we shall not ig
nore. If the objection is made to this that nations cannot
afford to found their policies upon mere general rules, we
may reply that he who thinks that any nation does otherwise is
profoundly ignorant of the customs of nations. Indeed, that
nation has yet to be numbered among existent states whose pol
icy is not based more upon dogma than utility — upon tradition
than reason. There is, in fact, but one universal precept pe
culiar to our subject, and that is the one upon which all others
are founded, viz., do that which will most increase the total
surplus of happiness; namely, do right. But even unth this
paucity of ^ universal precepts it possesses an advantage over
current political economy, for that science has not a single uni
versal precept peculiar to it. When political economists tell us

CHAP. V] THE FACTORS OF HAPPINESS 195

that free trade, for example, increases the wealth of nations,
they do not mean to assert that we could not discover or imagine
a single exception — a single combination of circumstances
under which a restriction upon the exchange of commodities
between men or nations would result in no loss of wealth —
that would be a mere absurdity, contradicted by their own the
ories of taxation. They merely mean that, as a general thing,
it will increase the wealth of nations, because it will tend to
confine the production of each commodity to the place and cir
cumstances under which it will be most economically produced,
and hence (so they tell us) free trade should be a policy adopted
by nations and by society.

Indeed, it may be said that in the formulation of rules and
precepts for the guidance of individuals or of society what
we gain in definiteness, we lose in generality. To say that a
man should be permitted to do as he pleases with his own prop
erty is not so general a rule as to say that justice should be done
to all men, but it is much more definite. It serves better as a
direct guide to conduct, because it seeks to specify how justice
may be done in a particular and recognizable class of cases, and
we may tell by observation in any particular case whether it is
or is not done; but if the law said nothing more specific than
that justice should be done, judges would be at a loss how to
act, for they would not have the means of knowing, in partic
ular cases, what the law considered justice and what it did not,
and it is always in particular cases that they are called upon to
decide.

Having taken the precaution thus to avow our intention ot
establishing only general precepts, scattering exceptions to which
do not constitute an invalidation, we may proceed to a discus
sion of the first factor of happiness.

CHAPTER VI

THE FIRST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS

If happiness is to be produced in the world as at present con
stituted, it must be through the agency of sentient beings. In
order to convert whatever latent possibilities of happiness the
world may afford into actual happiness the first requirement
is a happiness-producing mechanism, and the only known
mechanisms which meet the requirement are those afforded by
such terrestrial organisms as possess sentiency.

In this work we have deemed it best to ignore all beings ex
cept human beings. The first question which suggests itself
then, is, what kind of human beings are best adapted to convert
the potentialities of happiness afforded by the world into happi
ness; what characteristics or combinations of characteristics
make man an efficient agent for converting potential into actual
happiness? Upon what traits does efficiency of conversion de
pend ? The terms usually employed to distinguish between the
various mental or moral characteristics of human beings are, in
general, rather loose and inaccurate. Fortunately we shall have
no occasion to give them any such increase in precision as was
necessary in the case of the terms right and wrong, because
their implications are sufficiently familiar for the purposes to
which we shall have occasion to apply them.

Were men always isolated from their fellow men the charac
teristics required in them as agents of happiness would be differ
ent from what they are; but man as he is, and is likely to re
main, is a member of society, so that it is necessary to consider
him as a factor of happiness in a double — in a primary and
secondary — capacity. Each human being is, in the first 'place,
in his own person, the immediate sentient agent, the hap
piness-producing mechanism, in whose sensorium the finished
product of all successful human effort — happiness — is finally
turned out. In the second place, he is a part, and an important
part, of the environment of other happiness-producing mechan
isms. The characteristics which make man an efficient agent
in his primary capacity are not necessarily identical with those

196

CHAP. VI] FIKST FACTOK OF HAPPINESS 197

upon which efficiency in his secondary capacity depends, yet so
intimately is the welfare of each being bound up with that of
his fellow beings that no hard and fast classification can be
constructed. A rough division, however, is possible, and we
may, in the first place, consider briefly the elements required
to insure efficiency in man's primary capacity, noting the more
important of them, of which only two require mention.

The first of them is health, and so well is its importance rec
ognized that no discussion of it will be necessary. The second is
what may be termed adjustability, itself a function of three
separate characteristics, (a) Simplicity of taste — the ability
to obtain pleasure from simple things, requiring little or no
labor to attain, (b) Variety of taste — the ability to obtain
pleasure from many different things. (c) Adaptability of
taste — the^ ability to modify tastes or needs to meet the exi
gencies of life, including proficience in the art of excluding pain
ful thoughts or feelings from the attention and substituting for
them thoughts or feelings which are pleasurable, or at least less
painful. A sufficient development of the third element would
dispense with the need of the first two.

In the second place, we may touch upon two elements which
affect man's efficiency in both his primary and secondary ca
pacities. The first is intelligence. Intelligence or intellectu
ality are names commonly given to two faculties closely related
to one another — the power to reason — to use common sense
— and the power to express. Power of expression is essen
tial to reason — or at least to any high development thereof
— but reason is not essential to power of expression. Poets
generally owe their reputation to their power of expression, but
they are commonly poor reasoners, though often good observers.
Their faculty is an intellectual one, but their immediate ob
ject is very different from that of reason. The immediate
aim of reason is to attain truth and its ideal mode of expression
is the mathematical. The immediate aim of poetry or poetic
literature is to arouse emotion and its ideal mode of expression
is the musical. Eeason utilizes the sense of words, poetry
primarily their sound, though the ultimate aim of both is, or
ought to be, the same — viz., utility. Sometimes the attempt
is made to combine the functions of reason and poetry, and it is
generally a failure, though some conspicuous exceptions are
known. It is exceedingly dangerous to attempt the expression
of such truths as may determine acts in poetic language, for so
adorned, untruth is too often mistaken for truth, and wrong

198 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [Booiv II

» for right. Feeling is thus made a guide to action, when its
{ only proper function is to stimulate it, and the inevitable result
is the encouragement of pathomania.

Reason or rationality is so obviously one of the co-essentials
of efficiency in man as an agent of happiness that it would be
a waste of time to urge the point. Without it he would have no
guide to conduct. Jt has always been held, and with justice,
that in the high development of his reason, man is to be dis
tinguished from the brute more than ly any other character
istic.

The second element to be noticed in this division is will. By
will is to be understood that power by which a thinking being
rules his impulses — by which man overcomes himself. Selfish
ness is the dominant trait of character in all organisms. Ego
tistic impulses in most men prevail and very largely determine
conduct. In the interest of the totality of happiness these
impulses should be, as far as possible, superseded by altruistic
ones. There are but two modes whereby the power of self-
interest to control individual conduct may be weakened: (1)
By weakening the impulses themselves. (2) By strengthening
that which may nullify them. Hence the value of altruism on
the one hand, and will power on the other. Stubbornness or
obstinacy is often mistaken for will power — it generally sio--
nifles the lack of it. Obstinacy is merely a strong egotistic
impulse. Will is the power which, if possessed, may serve to
overcome it. Determination or persistence in seeking an end
may signify will power or it may not. Determination in the
it of principle is will; in obedience to impulse it is not
Impulse is not always egotistic — it is sometimes altrustic as
in impulses arising from sympathy or gratitude, but will is the
power by which all impulses, egotistic or altruistic, are governed
and it should be exerted in accordance with the dictum of prin
ciple alone.

In the third place, may be mentioned an element which affects
man s efficiency, for the most part, in his secondary capacity
alone, viz., altruism. It is notorious that selfish people not only
make others unhappy, but are frequently unhappy themselves
Unselfishness or altruism implies the absence or slight develop
ment of traits like dishonesty, hatred, vindictiveness, treachery
^P/^antl peevishness, and the presence or high development
: traits like honesty, generosity, benevolence, magnanimity and
good nature. It would be superfluous to make any detailed enu-
ion, or to demonstrate that a community in which altni-

CHAP. VI] FIRST FACTOE OF HAPPINESS 199

ism prevails is happier than one whose members are egotists.
Without mutual concession society could not exist. Courtesy
is but an expression of altruism and in the conventionalized
courtesy known as manners we find a code of conduct which, in
a narrow sphere, recognizes the claim of quantity of happiness
over distribution. Even among barbarous nations this claim
io recognized in the practice of hospitality. Virtues have almost
universally the quality of altruism. Vices as universally the
quality of egotism. The former are elements of efficiency -
the latter of inefficiency of conversion. The elements of will
and altruism constitute good character; which for brevity we
may denominate character.

Health, adjustability, reason, will, and altruism, then, being
the traits most desirable in human beings, we may next ask by
what means the development of health, adjustability, reason,
will, and altruism may be promoted. If efficiency of conversion
depends upon these traits, upon what do these traits depend?
Is it possible by voluntary acts to modify the physical, mental,
and moral characteristics of man? If so, by what means may
we promote the development of traits which increase effi
ciency and impede the development of those which increase in
efficiency? How may we increase intelligence and virtue and
decrease, or eradicate, unintalligence and vice? Obviously the
traits of human beings are effects of some cause or causes,
so, we must modify them, if at all, by modifying their causes.
What then are their causes?

The characteristics of man, physical, mental, and moral, are
the effects of two causes or two classes of causes : they are the
product of two factors: inheritance and experience. By the co
operation of these causes the characteristics of every individual
are completely determined. A Newton or a Socrates was what
he was because his inheritance and experience were what they
were The vilest criminal in the penitentiary is what he
because his inheritance and experience were what they were.
To deny it is to deny the law of causation

By the inheritance of an individual I refer to the sum of the
characteristics inherited by him from his ancestors, immediate
and remote, and indefinitely transmissible — though not neces
sarily transmitted— to his descendants. By the education of
an individual I refer to any and all means voluntarily em
ployed to determine his individual characteristics by determin
ing his experiences. To voluntarily cause an individual to have
a given experience, or to avoid a given experience, for the pur-

200 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAST I [BOOK II

pose of affecting his efficiency of conversion — or for any other
purpose — is to employ a means of education. Hence to secure
any change in the characteristics of a human being, either for
better or worse, we must affect either his inheritance, or his
education, or both. We may now ask what kind of inheritance
and what kind of education will most increase man's efficiency ?
To answer this question requires some consideration of those
subjects, and I shall discuss inheritance first.

The inheritance of any organism depends upon the characters,
or rather a certain class of the characters, of the organisms from
which it sprung — its ancestors — and as we have good reason for
disbelieving in spontaneous generation, we may say that all or
ganisms have ancestors. It is a fact too familiar to require
citation that the offspring resembles its parent. The offspring
of cattle are cattle ; of horses, horses ; of dogs, dogs ; and of men,
men. Moreover, the offspring of a particular variety of cattle
are, in general, of the same variety, of a particular style of horse,
of the same style, and of a particular breed of dog, of the same
breed. Indeed, it is by availing themselves of this fact that
breeders are able to obtain new varieties of these animals and to
keep the breeds so obtained pure. With such particularity does
inheritance act that it sometimes happens that particular mark
ings or other characters consisting of a very complex aggregate
are transmitted from parent to offspring intact, and the subtle
resemblances of people to their relatives — sometimes remote
relatives — are evidences of the remarkable power of inheritance
to preserve and reproduce very complexly related morphological
aggregates.

It should be noticed, however, that although the offspring
resembles the parent he never exactly resembles him, nor does
one individual ever exactly resemble another, even in the case
of twins. Darwin says "Some authors have gone so far as to
maintain that the production of slight differences is as much a
necessary function of the powers of generation as the production
of offspring like their parents," and Weismann contends that
the differentiation of the sexes is but a means employed by
nature to multiply variations and thus increase the probabil
ity of producing favorable ones. In other words, organisms
vary, some having one set of characters more conspicuously
developed, others having others, nor is man any exception to this
organic law. There are many varieties of men, Caucasians,
Ethiopians, Mongolians, etc., and of these varieties there are

CHAP. VI] FIKST FACTOK OF HAPPINESS 201

many sub-varieties, such as, among the Caucasians, the Teutons,
the Celts, the Gallic race, etc., and among these sub-varieties there
are an indefinite number of minor sub-divisions and- each of
these divisions and sub-divisions tends to perpetuate its own
characteristics. Moreover the laws of inheritance apply as uni
formly to mental and moral characteristics as they do to phys
ical ones. The mind of an oyster is never by any accident as
highly developed as that of a normal dog, nor is that of a dog so
highly developed as that of a normal man, and this is obviously
because the mind of an animal resembles the mind of its parents.
Furthermore the resemblances extend to characters as particu-
larate, as specific, as complexly related, in mental as in physical
inheritances. The offspring of a man of congenitally weak
character or intelligence will tend to be weak in the same par
ticulars, while the offspring of a man of congenitally strong
character or intelligence will tend to be strong in character or
intelligence likewise; just as the offspring of a small man tend
to be small and of a tall man tend to be tall. There is always
considerable variation even in the same family, however, and
hence weak parents will occasionally produce fairly strong off
spring and small parents fairly tall ones. It would seem then
that the way to obtain an individual or a community having in
heritances adapted to make them efficient is to select for them
ancestors who are efficient — in order to breed an efficient race,
we must breed from an efficient stock. But are efficient stocks
like poets, born not made, or may a more efficient stock be
created from a less efficient one ; and if so, how ?

Two methods for producing improved stocks have been pro
posed. (1) By selection. (2) By education. The first method
has been much practised, though not upon men, and is in fact
that whereby breeders have produced the manifold varieties of
domesticated animals and plants so familiar to everyone. The
method is simplicity itself. The farmer or breeder makes up
his mind what characters it is desirable to perpetuate in a par
ticular kind of animal or plant, and then systematically breeds
from individuals which are found to possess the desirable char
acters in the most marked degree. By thus selecting the parents
he determines the characteristics of the offspring. Every
farmer selects his seed from the best specimens of corn, or
pumpkins, or wheat, or cabbage, which his crops yield, and in
grafting his fruit trees he selects scions from good stock. Sim
ilarly in breeding his horses, cows, pigs, chickens, or pigeons, he
selects the best individuals from among his flocks. In this way

202 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAET I [BooK II

domestic animals and plants are continually improved and are
to-day, in general, considerably in advance of those of a century
or even of a generation ago. It is extraordinary what results
have been attained by breeders. The progressive lowering of
the running and trotting records has been due to the continual
improvement of race-horses by breeding. The vast variety of
dogs ranging from the little black and tan terrier to the great
Dane illustrate what may be accomplished by selection. The
Japanese, according to Weismann, have increased the length of
the tail of a certain kind of cock from normal proportions to six
feet or more, and when we are told that the cabbage, cauliflower,
brussels sprouts, and kale are all varieties of the same plant, we
may realize the possibilities of modification possessed by organ
isms. Of the great economic importance of selective breeding,
we may get some idea from the following extract taken from the
report of Willet M. Hays in the Year Book of the U. S. Depart
ment of Agriculture for 1901 :

" Those who have earnestly and intelligently undertaken the
improvement of any plant for a period of ten or twenty years,
and have observed the past improvement in animal breeding, are
unanimous in their belief that 10 per cent additional can be
secured in twenty years by a further improvement through plant
and animal breeding alone. This would result in ten years in a
total increase equal to the value of all the crops grown in one
year, representing at least $3,000,000,000 additional wealth to
the world. All this could be secured at a cost of less than 1 per
cent of its value, or $30,000,000, and the chances are that most
of the increased values secured would not cost one-tenth of 1 per
cent of their worth. . . .

" Examples of past achievement, whether by private plant breed
ers, by seed firms, or by agencies acting for the State and Nation,
make the foregoing statements seem conservative as a basis for
action. The sugar in sugar beets was increased more than 100
per cent in thejast century by means of rigid selection systematic
ally and scientifically carried out on a large and practical scale by
European seed growers. . . . The farmers of America having
been compelled to take in the hand each ear of corn while husking,
have annually chosen the largest and best-formed ears from among
the many thousands. This has resulted in the most extensive
breeding experiment ever carried out, and the yield of corn is
probably 20 per cent greater than it would have been without
this selection. . . .

"The Minnesta experiment station by six years of selection
produced varieties of flax 32 inches tall from varieties only 26

CHAP. VI] FIRST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 203

inches tall, increasing the length of the fiber more than 20 per
cent.

" The achievements in animal breeding also include profound
structural changes, the full significance of which is not generally
recognized. . . .

" The production of the Poland China, the Tamworth, and other
breeds of hogs with very distinctive features shows that this species
is mobile in the hands of men trained in the science and art of
breed formation. . . .

" Some experiment stations have demonstrated the _ vast differ
ence in the ability of individual cows to produce milk products
cheaply from a given amount of food. Some cows do not pay
their board; others produce values equal to two or three times
the cost of their food; while such animals as the famous Jersey
sire, Stoke Pogis, illustrate how an occasional dairy animal has
the wonderfully important ability of impressing strong dairy
quality upon all his or. her progeny. . . .

". . . Chicken raisers have added to or substracted from
the'size, and changed the form, of the wattles of their pets almost
at will. Pigeon fanciers have developed from wild species most
fantastic forms, producing changes far more profound than that
of changing some of the families of beef cattle so as to double
their milk-giving capacity without seriously reducing their value
for beef production. To add 25 per cent to the lean meat _on hogs
of a particular breed will not require greater changes in these
animals than have been wrought in some varieties of pigeons."

"While many kinds of domesticated plants and animals have
been so materially improved by breeding that the wealth of the
world and the pleasure of living are greatly increased, only a
start has been made in accomplishing that which is possible. The
greatest achievements in the few lines illustrate what may be
accomplished in the many lines. The extensive application of
the scientific business principles of plant and animal improvement
in the breeding of sugar beets, wheat, trotting horses, and dairy
cattle illustrate how the same principles, with modifications ^ to
suit the species and the purpose, may be applied to improving
other species that they may better suit our needs. And the best
plans yet may be greatly improved."

Man, of course, has never been improved by deliberate breed
ing, but he is as susceptible of improvement as any other organ
ism'. Indeed, so far as concerns his mental powers, he is, or
should be, more susceptible than any other animal. It is an old f
observation among biologists that, in general, the characters of*
greatest antiquity are the least variable, while those of latest ^
acquisition are the most variable. The tendency to possess a
vertebral column has been transmitted to man through a line of

204 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [BOOK II

progenitors extending back to the lower fishes, and the tendency
to the possession of four limbs dates from about the same phylo-
genetic period : hence it would be practically impossible to breed
from men a race of beings devoid of these structures On the
other hand, the possession of reason — of a highly developed
nteilect • - is an acquisition of the geological yesterday Fish
are found as far back as the Upper Silurian Period, while man
as homo sapiens — as a being possessed of reason — probably
does not antedate the Glacial Period. The former period is
at least a hundred times as remote as the latter. Hence as
might have been expected, we find man's mental capacity 'the
most variable of all his characteristics. Between the intellect
>f a Newton or an Aristotle and that of a Hottentot there is
probably a greater discrepancy than between that of a Hottentot
and that of a horse; and the ability to learn and to reason among
the rank and file of men is far more variable, for example, than
the length of their arms, or legs, or noses. Their mental stature
» more variable than their physical. Now the ease with vl ich
a character may, by selection, be made to depart from the nor
mal, will obviously depend upon its tendency to deviate from
the normal in individual cases, i.e., upon its variability T

, .e., upon s variablit

breeding from idiotic or feeble-minded human beinJs i woi
be easy to obtain a race whose grade of intelligence was onTpar

tD0i atTa-V°> c™ - t'

monly asserted that the children of ^ I"hentan«- I* is corn-
where great power of inte kot seems to'h ™l "re -St,Upid; that

-

CHAP. VI] FIRST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 205

find that talent is transmitted by inheritance in a very remark
able degree; and that whole families of persons of talent are more
common than those in which one member only is possessed of it.
I justify my conclusions by the statistics I now proceed to adduce,
which I believe are sufficient to command conviction." x

I cannot conveniently quote the statistics here, but must refer
the reader to the original article. Concerning another common
fallacy, Galton remarks:

" There has been a popular belief that men of great intellectual
eminence are usually of feeble constitution, and of a dry and cold
disposition. There may be such instances, but I believe the general
rule to be exactly the opposite. Such men, so far as my obser
vation and reading extend, are usually more manly and genial
than the average, and by the aid of these very qualities they
obtain a recognized ascendancy. It is a great and common mistake
to suppose that high intellectual powers are commonly associated
with puny frames and small physical strength. . . . Most
great men are vigorous animals with exuberant powers and
extreme devotion to a cause. There is no reason to suppose that,
in breeding for the highest order of intellect, we should produce a
sterile or a feeble race." 2

If the reader finds that his own mind is occupied by the idea
that men of talent lack the power of transmitting their charac
teristics I commend to him an examination of Galton's work
on Hereditary Genius, where he may find ample evidence to
dispel the error.

Obviously the other factors of efficiency, particularly health,
altruism, and will, are transmitted with the same freedom as
intellect and hence these qualities may be cumulatively intensi
fied in the same manner.

In a later paper on " The Possible Improvement of the Hu
man Breed under the Existing Conditions of Law and Senti
ment" Galton points out of what vast advantage to a nation
the deliberate improvement of its stock would be, considered
merely as an investment, and he proposes means, which he deems
practicable, of attaining such an end. The means which he
proposes are set forth at length in the paper referred to. Their
character may be inferred from the following quotation :

<e The possibility of improving the race of a nation depends on
the power of increasing the productivity of the best stock. This

1 Macmillan's Magazine; June, 1865, p. 157.

2 Ibid: p. 164.

206

TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAET I [BooK II

is far more important than that of repressing the productivity of
the worst. They both raise the average, the latter by reducing the
undesirables, the former by increasing those who will become the
lights of the nation. It is therefore all important to prove that
favor to selected individuals might so increase their productivity
as to warrant the expenditure in money and care that would be
necessitated An enthusiasm to improve the race would probably
express itself by granting diplomas to a select class of young
men and women, by encouraging their intermarriages, by hasten
ing the time of marriage of women ^ of that high class, and by
provision for rearing children healthily. The means that might
bo employed to compass these ends are dowries, especially for
those to whom moderate sums are important, assured help in
emergencies during the early years of married life, healthy homes,
the pressure of public opinion, honors, and above all the introduc
tion of motives of religious or quasi-religious character. Indeed,
an enthusiasm to improve the race is so noble in its aim that it
might well give rise to the sense of a religious obligation. ^ In
other lands there are abundant instances in which religious motives
make early marriages a matter of custom and continued celibacy
to be regarded as a disgrace, if not a crime. ^ The customs of the
Hindoos, also of the Jews, especially in ancient times, bear this
out. In all costly civilizations there is a tendency to shrink from
marriage on prudential grounds. It would, however, be possible
so to alter the conditions of life that the most prudent course
for an X-class person * should lie exactly opposite to its present
direction, for he or she might find that there were advantages and
not disadvantages in early marriage, and that the most prudent
course was to follow their natural instincts."

Much ignorance and prejudice must be cleared away before
methods of the character suggested can be introduced into even
the most civilized of modern states. Other means of promoting
the cause of humanity, of increasing the total happiness,
such as those represented in the advancement of science and art,
of invention and government, fade into insignificance when
compared with what might be accomplished were men bred for
efficiency as happiness-producing agents, as domestic animals
and" plants are bred for efficiency as agents in the production
of wealth. Nothing could so augment the power of the sentient
world to produce happiness as thus to increase the efficiency
of the sentient agent itself. Were Justice ever to find herself in
a position to breed men in some such manner as that suggested
by Galton, her prospects might be compared to that of an en
gineer who having been, by the backward condition of the arts,

1 X represents the highest class in Galton's system of classification.

CHAP. VI] FIKST FACTOK OF HAPPINESS 207

compelled to generate steam in an earthenware retort, finds
himself in a position to utilize a modern tubular-boiler. Under
present conditions I fear that any attempt to improve, in civil
ized communities, upon the traditional method of breeding the
human race — a method identical with that which woodchucks,
rabbits, crows, turtles, and all wild animals follow — would be
as unsuccessful as an attempt to establish a society for the pre
vention of cruelty to animals among Fiji Islanders. Neverthe
less, should a nation finally arrive at a stage of civilization
sufficiently advanced to permit the adoption of improved meth
ods, it would, in a few generations, dominate the earth and sub
jugate the rest of the human race with an ease as great as — but
with a humanity, let us hope, greater than — that with which
men have subjugated the domesticated species of animals. For
the present the restriction which the state puts upon the propaga
tion of idiots and the more obtrusively feeble-minded, by con
fining them in institutions, is as much as we may expect to be
done in the way of improving the human breed by selection.

This brings us to the second proposed method, the method of
improvement by education. In its employment we might per
haps proceed thus: Taking the individuals of an inefficient or
poor stock while young, we might educate them, cultivate their
minds, train their morals, etc., and so convert them into efficient
individuals; their offspring, springing from the individuals thus
improved, would tend to inherit the characters thus superim
posed upon their parents. By repeating the operation with
succeeding generations a poor stock might, by this means, be con
verted into a good one, an inefficient race into an efficient one.
Let us examine the theory of this suggested method.

The traits, qualities, or characters of an individual man (or
other organism) may be divided into two classes: (1) Those
with which he was born, or which would have been developed in
him by the simple process of growth, independent of the par
ticular circumstances of his environment or experience; such
characters as the color of his hair, and eyes, the shape of his
nose, or ears or fingers, his stature, or such mental characters
as were inherited. These are called spontaneous characters, or
variations. (2) Those which have been imposed or engrafted
upon the individual during his lifetime; those which he has
acquired from contact with the environment, or which have be
come a part of him because of his particular experience. In
other words, those which he did not inherit. Such characters
include the enlargement of muscular tissues due to exercise, the

208 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [BOOK II

modifications in various organs due to disease or immoderate
stimulation, callouses, scars, or other mutilations, and all those
physical or mental characters acquired by education. These are
called acquired characters. Weismann characterizes them thus:

" By acquired characters I mean those which are not performed
in the germ, but which arise only through special influences affect
ing the body or individual parts of it. They are due to the reaction
of these parts to any external influences apart from the necessary
conditions for development. I have called them ' somatogenic '
characters, because they are produced by the reaction of the body
or soma, and I contrast them with the ' blastogenic ' characters of
an individual, or those which originate solely in the primary con
stituents of the germ ( ' Keimesanlagen ' )." 1

The question we are considering may now be stated in the
form : Are acquired characters inheritable, or are they not ?

Let us first clear up a possible source of confusion as to the
meaning of our terms. Just above I have said that the acquired
characters of an individual are those which he did not inherit.
It might seem from this statement that I have begged the ques
tion under examination in my definition. This is a mistake
By the acquired characters of a given individual I certainly do
mean those which he did not inherit from his ancestors, but this
definition does not imply that therefore his descendants cannot
inherit them from him. That is a question which, of course
cannot be settled by a definition, but only by evidence. To
state the case more clearly :

A B, and C are three individuals, A is the father of B, and
B the father of C. B has certain characters — x, y, z, &c
which he did not inherit from A or from any other ancestor
immediate or remote. Are the characters x, y, z, &c., inheritable
by 0 or any of his descendants? This question is a perfectly
unambiguous one. Is it susceptible of an unambiguous answer ?

Obviously a question thus proposed is one which can be an
swered only by an appeal to experience — by an examination

organic nature. It is a subject which, for about a score of
years, has been much discussed by naturalists. It must be set
tled, if at all, by the inductive method ; and three hypotheses are
possible :

i _ August Weismann: "The Germ-Plasm"; translated by W. Newton
Parker and Harriet Ronnfeldt, 1893 — p. 392.

CHAP. VI] FIRST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 209

(1) All acquired characters are inheritable.

(2) Some acquired characters are inheritable and some

are not.

(3) No acquired characters are inheritable.

Of the classification of acquired characters Weismann re
marks :

" Somatogenic variations may be classified according to their
origin into three categories, — viz., injuries, functional variations,
and variations depending on the so-called 'influences of environ
ment,' — which include main/ly climatic variations." x

Of course, if acquired characters are inheritable we should
expect to find that they are inherited ; and if all acquired char
acters are inheritable we should expect to be unable to mention
any class of such characters, instances of the inheritance of
which could not be cited. Can such a class be mentioned ? To
this the reply is unreservedly — yes. Thousands, if not millions,
of certain kinds of acquired characters are known, no instance
of the inheritance of which has ever been observed. These are
injuries or mutilations. Millions of men and animals have
been mutilated in one way and another; legs, arms, ears, teeth,
fingers, and many other parts of the body have been removed
by accident or design, but though the organisms thus mutilated
have frequently bred after the mutilation, the offspring are never
mutilated, but are as sound as those born of unmutilated parents.
Similarly, all kinds of scars, including those made by smallpox
or ulcers, callouses or malformations of parts of the body due to
accident or illnesses like rheumatism or paralysis, are never
inherited. The Chinese women of the higher classes have de
liberately deformed their feet from time immemorial, yet the
feet of Chinese infants of both sexes are as perfect as those of any
other race, and the deforming process has to be repeated in the
case of each individual. The so-called Flat-head Indians have
a custom of binding a piece of wood against the forehead of
their infants so as to deform the head in a particular manner,
and this custom has been religiously observed for many genera
tions, but the malformed head thus acquired is^ never inherited.
Weismann, who more than anv other man, living or dead, has
thrown light on this important question, tried the experiment
of cutting off the tails of a succession of generations of rats, but

ilbid: p. 393.
14

210 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [BooK II

the tails of the later generations were just as long as those of
the earlier ones. Innumerable instances of mutilation and mal
formation acquired during the lifetime of individuals, not only
of men, but of dogs, cattle, and even of all kinds of plants, have
been observed, but in no organism whatever, so far as the records
of science are able to reveal, has a single instance of the inherit
ance of such an acquired character been observed. This evidence
— and it might be indefinitely extended — obviously disposes
of the first hypothesis. It is overwhelmingly improbable that
all acquired characters are inheritable, and the most we can say
is that some are and some are not. But are we able to say even
this — have we any evidence that any kind of acquired charac
ters are inherited? All we can do is to appeal to experience
again.

When Charles Darwin began studying the subject of evolu
tion in the first half of the last century there was already extant
a theory of inheritance which sought to explain the transmuta
tion of organisms by postulating the inheritance of acquired
characters. This was the theory of Jean Baptiste Lamark, a
French naturalist, who promulgated his theory in the latter part
of the 18th century. His view was, in brief, that the various
habits of animals caused them to use certain portions of their
bodies more than other portions. By such disparity of employ
ment certain parts were strengthened and other parts were left
weak, and the effects thus induced by habit were inherited by
the offspring. They, in turn, adopting ;"ie habits of their an
cestors, strengthened the same parts and left unstrengthened
the same parts as did their parents, so that their offspring in
turn, inheriting this re-enforced disparity between the parts
used and the parts disused, departed still more from the original
type than their parents did, and in this manner were accumu
lated characters due to the habits of organisms which, in time,
became sufficiently emphasized to have changed one species into
another. Thus he accounted for the web-feet of water-fowl by
the stimulus afforded by the continual effort to spread the toes
in swimming on the part of the non-web-footed ancestors of
water-fowl, and the long neck of the giraffe he explained by the
habit which its ancestors had of continually stretching their
necks upward to feed on the foliage of trees, as giraffes are
known to do. This constant effort gradually stretched the tis
sues of the neck, and the effect being inherited and accumulated
during many generations, the long neck of the giraffe finally
resulted.

CHAP. VI] FIKST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 211

The elements of plausibility in this theory appealed to Darwin
and he adopted it, incorporating it with his own theories of
natural and sexual selection as one of the factors of evolution;
and Herbert Spencer, before the appearance of Darwin's work
on the Origin of Species, adopted the doctrine of Lamark and
made it the foundation of his whole theory of organic evolution.
It is probably to the influence of Spencer more than to any other
cause that the opinion that acquired characters are inheritable
still prevails. As we hope to show, the opinion is entirely
fallacious. Its antecedent probability, however, appears to be
strong until the evidence is critically examined. Darwin and
his immediate disciples believed that by the inherited effects of
use or disuse of organs — what Weismann terms " functional
variations" — parts of the body could be made to increase or
diminish in size, or even to entirely disappear. In particular
the so-called rudimentary organs were explained on this ground.
More than one hundred such organs occur in the body of man,
for instance, of which the vermiform appendix, the tonsils, and
the eustachian tubes are examples. They are useless or worse
than useless in man, but in him they are but the rudiments of or
gans once useful and functioning in some of his animal ancestors.
The rudiments of the muscles which in animals serve to move
the ears, and which in such animals as the horse are utilized to
shake the muscles of the shoulder in order to drive off flies, have
been found in man. In some men these muscles are not com
pletely rudimentary. Xow, that such organs have become rudi
mentary there can be little doubt. But did they become so
because" of disuse, as the Lamarkians claim? If so — if disuse
causes an organ or tissue to progressively dwindle from genera
tion to generation — then we ought to observe that all parts of an
organism thus disused tend to dwindle. Do we observe this?
By no means — nothing of the kind is observed, though there
would be ample opportunity to observe it, did it occur. The
Lamarkian theory, in fact, explains too much. The bones of the
human body, or at any rate some of them, may be said to be
perpetually in disuse, if the mere failure to perform some active
function is disuse, and this is what the Lamarkians must mean
by that term in explaining how organs become rudimentary.
The bones of the head for example ; do they fulfil any function
more active fian a disused muscle? Yet they do not seem to
tend to become rudimentary in either animals or man. A great
many muscles in the human body are seldom if ever used, yet
there is no evidence that they are progressively dwindling.

212

use

TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS -PART I [BooK II

^T^^?^^^^^

sS^£rS^^^sa^

large part of 'the life of every individual would become larger

Tif] larger in each succeeding generation, while the tear glands

ana idigti » « ™v,o«ioa r,-f +ITP IT part

and larger in eacii suui .1^5 &^" - • 11 i j.

would tend to dwindle and disappear. The muscles of tte heart
and diaphrao-m which are in perpetual activity during every
momento an animal's life would tend to increase m size until
The body could no longer contain them, for, according to the
Lamarkians, the effects of use and disuse are cumulative,
relative sizes of the leg and jaw muscles which are used a great
deal and of the abdominal muscles which are used very little,
ouo-ht to exhibit greater and greater disparity, while such organs
as "the outer ear or the finger nails ought to disappear because
they are incapable of any more active use than a rudimentary
organ None of these effects are observed and yet if the theory
is sound they all ought to be. But it may be contended that
nature automatically regulates inheritance in such a manner
that after reaching a certain size further effects of the use of
an organ are no longer inherited, and, on the other hand, that
after an organ has dwindled to a certain irreducible minimum
the effects of disuse are no longer inherited. This would be
perfectly consistent with the proposition that some acquired
characters are inheritable. But if nature does thus limit the
inheritability of acquired characters it is obvious that disuse
can never cause an organ to completely disappear as is claimed.
On the other hand, if use can cause a giraffe's neck to be length
ened in the extraordinary degree observed, why should not the
muscles of the heart in practically all animals enlarge
in a similar abnormal manner in a degree greater than
is required for them to perform their functions? Surely
it is not because their use is less constant and long con
tinued. Tt may be said that such a tendency would be per
petually checked by the intervention of natural selection, which
would kill off such individuals as inherited hearts so large as
to be disadvantageous, but unless the inheritance of acquired
characters is merely a rare and occasional event, not a few but
all animals would thus inherit abnormal hearts or other organs
which in the life of their ancestors had been in constant use.
Thus from a consideration of injuries and functional variations
among physical characters it is obvious that a considerable pre-

CHAP. VI] FIRST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 213

sumption against the theory of the inheritance of acquired
characters may be established.

But it is only when we examine the evidence afforded by men
tal characters that the presumption against such a theory be
comes so strong as to put the matter beyond any considerable
doubt. Here the opportunity for observation is vast, and the
complete absence of a single unmistakable case of the inher
itance of an acquired character is most significant. If acquired
mental characters are inheritable, surely we ought to find at
least one unmistakable case of this inheritance among the mil
lions which have been examined. But not one appears. Ro
manes, a prominent supporter of the Lamarkian theory, in dis
cussing the development of the fear of man among animals on
uninhabited islands soon after man's appearance among them,
attributes it to what he calls " inherited memory." It js clear
that the development of such fear can easily be explained on
other grounds. The communication of ideas among animals
has frequently been observed by naturalists and the explanation
of the phenomenon on the ground that the various animals com
municated the fears generated in them by man to their offspring
would be sufficient to account for it, without postulating such
an extraordinary hypothesis as an inherited memory which, in
one generation, nullifies the effects of the inherited memories of
thousands or millions of generations which preceded it. But
let us examine this hypothesis of inherited memories and ob
serve the result of attempting to verify it.

In the first place, can the reader remember a single event
which occurred in the life of his father or mother or any of his
other ancestors before he was born, or does he know, or has he
ever heard of anyone who can ? If memories can be inherited, as
Romanes claims, there should be many persons now living who
could remember the Revolutionary War, or the events attending
the settling of Plymouth Colony, or some which occurred in the
reign of Henry VIII. In fact, people should occasionally be
found who could remember the battle of Hastings, or even the
invasion of Britain by Caesar, and in Egypt we ought to find
here and there a native who could remember the building ot the
Pyramids. It is needless to say that such persons are not to be

found. . 1 .,, , .,

Were memories, or educative effects m general, inheritabL
would not be necessary for us to support schools to instruct
youths in reading, writing, and arithmetic. Such knowledge
would generally have been inherited from their ancestors, and

214 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS -PAKT I [Boon II

thus by instructing a few generations in these or other useful
branches, we could thereafter dispense with the necessity of
further instruction in them. Experience, ^™>*™3™™
that if there is any inherited knowledge of this kind much
searching does not suffice to discover it. But consider the evi
dence furnished by language. Not one, but all the ancestors
of many children born in the present generation back lor at
least several centuries have habitually spoken the English lan
guage yet every child has to be taught the language and not
one has ever been known who came to a knowledge of it with
out being taught. Surely if an acquired character can be in
herited language ought to be, for its use is not occasional and
confined to one or a few persons, but habitual and universal.
As we find that it has not been inherited in the past, we are
forced to the conclusion that it will not be inherited in the
future, that in truth it is not inheritable ; and the same can be
said of any and every mental character which has been brought

to the test.

It may be contended, perhaps, that no expectation is to be cher
ished of the inheritance of a knowledge of the actual words of
a language or of any specific knowledge, but that education or
habit merely strengthens the particular mental powers brought
into activity by them, so that the offspring of a man trained,
let us say, in reasoning would be able to acquire the habit
of reasoning more readily than he would have done had his
parent not exercised that power in the years preceding his birth.
In other words, though he might not inherit an actual acquire
ment, he might inherit a tendency to its acquisition. This
is a possible hypothesis — indeed it is a plausible one. The
question is, has it been verified — or is it verifiable? Can we
test it? Can one or more expectations be adduced from it
which may be compared with observation? I am aware that
practically everyone believes that the hypothesis is amply veri
fied by experience and the mental and moral traits of Individ--
uak and races alike are continually explained as the inherited
effects of the habits of their ancestors. Indeed this explanation
is so habitually resorted to that many persons appear to believe
that no other can be suggested, an assumption which I shall
presently show is quite unwarranted. Fortunately, there is one
class of cases by which the assumption may be brought to a
critical test, which furnishes, in fact, an experimentum cruets.

If habit can be transmitted from parent to offspring in such
a way that the offspring's power to acquire a given habit de-

CHAP. VI] FIKST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 215

pends upon the degree in which the parent practised it, then
we should he able to predict that a child whose ancestors had
habitually spoken the English language would acquire that lan
guage more readily than one whose ancestors had habitually
spoken the French language, and similarly a French child would
learn the French language much more readily than an English
child would. Here is a deduction from the hypothesis which
may be readily tested. Does it verify the hypothesis? No, it
refutes it. A French child brought up from infancy in Eng
land acquires the English language as readily and rapidly as
an English child does. Moreover it speaks the language with
out the slightest accent, provided of course, it is taught by those
who have no accent; thus showing that it has not even a faint
tendency to inherit the French language, and furthermore if
it is subsequently taken to France it acquires the French lan
guage with as great difficulty as though it were an English
child, and speaks it with an English accent quite as strong. Ob
viously, thousands of cases similar to this have been observed of
children brought up in foreign countries, and no evidence to
show that they inherit even a tendency to their own language
has, so far as I am aware, ever been adduced. Had such a case
occurred, it would almost certainly have been proclaimed, for the
ITeo-Lamarkians have moved heaven and earth to find one
solitary case of the unmistakable inheritance of an acquired
character, and they have failed. They have, however, discov
ered many doubtful cases, that is, cases of inheritance which at
first sight appear to be due to the Lamarkian factor, but on
examination are found to be susceptible of another explanation.
They point out that men who have spent their lives in the study
of music, or mathematics, or literature, or even politics or war,
and become eminent therein, have, more frequently than would
have occurred by chance, had children who inherited their tal
ents and who became eminent likewise. The observation in
these cases is correct, but the inference is incorrect. Such tal
ents do run in families, but it is spontaneous, not acquired
characters, which are inherited, a predisposition, not a habit.
If a man devotes his life to music, it is obviously because he
has a natural inclination to do so, an inclination as little due
to inherited habit as the shape of his nose or the color of his
hair, and hence as inheritable as these. It is this natural in
clination or predisposition which is inherited and we have good
reason to believe that the offspring of a musician would have
been just as musical had the parent never touched a piano or

216 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [BooK II

never seen a bar of music. Indeed, most of the men who have
attained eminence in any art or calling have sprung from
parents who did not habitually practise the art or calling before
them, although when a person does thus develop peculiar pow
ers it is exceedingly probable that among his immediate an
cestors one at least could have been found who, had occasion
arisen, would have developed them likewise; just as when we
see a very tall man we have reason to expect that, should we
search his immediate ancestry, at least one tall man or woman
would be found among them. Those who so confidently adopt
the Lamarkian explanation of inherited habit appear to ig
nore the obvious inference that if the ancestors of an indi
vidual or race deliberately adopted some habit of mind, which
can only mean a habit of centering the attention upon some
particular idea or group of ideas, that they adopted it because
of a previous predilection or predisposition on their part to
centre their attention on that particular idea or group of ideas
rather than on others; thus, instead of the habit being the
cause of the mental trait, the mental trait was the cause of the
habit; and that which was inherited was not the habit, but
rather the predisposition that caused it. At any rate, this
hypothesis would as completely explain the facts as the other.

Having thus discussed briefly the subject of injuries, and of
functional variations, let us as briefly consider those influences
which Weismann classes as " climatic." They include all di
rect effects of the environment, such as temperature, nutrition,
presence or absence of specific reagents in the system, diseases,
etc. They cannot be classed as injuries, or as effects of use or
disuse of parts.

It has been observed in the case of some butterflies, notably
Polyommatus phlceas belonging to the family lyccenidce, that the
color of certain parts of the body depends upon the temperature
at which the change from the larval to the mature stage takes
place, and that furthermore the effects thus induced directly
by the environment are transmissible. Bees by varying the kind
and degree of nutriment furnished to the pupae can cause them
to develop into queens, drones, or workers, at will, and an Aus
trian physician, Dr. Schenk, has claimed that by a somewhat
similar variation of nutrition in the case of breeding women
he can determine the sex of their offspring.

The hereditary transmission of diseases has always been cited
by the Neo-Lamarkians as furnishing evidence to prove their
contention; for a disease is certainly an acquired character and

CHAP. VI] FIRST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 217

some diseases may as certainly be transmitted. The experi
ments of Dr. Brown-Sequard in particular are referred to, who
produced epilepsy in guinea pigs by a lesion of the spinal cord,
which artificially induced disease was transmitted. The phe
nomena are, however, susceptible of another and more plausible
explanation, as the following extract from Weismann will suf
fice to make clear:

" There is no doubt that some diseases are passed on from one
generation to another. All such cases are not, however, connected
with heredity, and many of them are in all probability to be
explained as the result of infection of the parental germ-cell with
microscopic parasites, and ought consequently to be described as
infections of the germ.

" In man such a transference of disease has only definitely been
proved to occur in the case of syphilis. The father, as well as
the mother, is capable of transmitting this disease to the embryo,
and the only possible explanation of this fact is, therefore, that
the specific bacteria of syphilis can be transmitted by the sper
matozoon. Amongst the lower animals the ' pebrine ' of the silk
worm is an example, which has been well known for several decades,
of the transference of a fatal disease from one generation to
another through the egg: . . .

" As we now know that many diseases of man and other mam
mals are due to such low forms of parasites, it is natural to sup
pose that the transmission of such diseases results from infection
of the germ-cell with microbes, and not from inheritance in the
true sense of the word — that is, from the transmission of an
anomalous state of the germ-plasm itself.

" I have elsewhere attempted to trace the ' heredity ' of
'epilepsy,' produced artificially in guinea-pigs, by supposing that
in this case a similar process occurs. The slow development of
this form of ' epilepsy ' resulting from an injury to the spinal cord
or one of the larger nerves, seems to me, indeed, to support the
conclusion that its symptoms, which resemble those of true epilepsy,
are due to the migration of microbes, which advance from the
injured part along the nerves in a centripetal direction until they
reach the brain, where they set up the state of irritation charac
teristic of the disease. The great inconstancy of the symptoms,
and the variety of forms of nervous diseases which the offspring
exhibit, also indicate that a true heredity is not concerned in the
process, and that the transmission is in this case due to infection
of the germ with the microbes by which the case is induced.

" The ' transmisson ' of carcinoma might be accounted for in a
similar way, — if, as has recently been supposed, this disease is
really due to microbes.

"It is, however, also conceivable that both causes — the trans-

218 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [BOOK II

mission of abnormal predispositions and infection of the germ —
might combine to bring about the transference of a disease from
one generation to another. Without desiring to encroach upon the
domain of pathology, I am inclined to suppose that this is the
case as regards ' hereditary ' tuberculosis : there is no doubt about
the occurrence of a ' tuberculous habit ' — that is, a certain com
plication of structural peculiarities which is commonly connected
with the disease, such as a narrowness of the chest, for instance.
These peculiarities must result from the structure of the germ-
plasm, in which a definite variation of certain determinants and
groups of determinants must have taken place, and they are there
fore certainly transmissible. The disease itself, however, is not
due to this ' habit,' but is caused by the presence of specific para
sites, the tubercle-bacilli, which have a harmful effect upon the
various living tissues. They may be introduced artificially into
the blood, and then produce the disease even in perfectly normal
individuals. They may, moreover, enter the body ' spontaneously/
e. g., by some natural means, and will then also give rise to the
disease. But in the latter case the probability of infection seems
largely to_ depend upon the susceptibility or power of resistance
of the individual, and at the present day pathologists are of opinion
that persons exhibiting the 'tuberculous habit' already referred
to have a much slighter power of resistance to the parasites which
have passed into the body than strongly-built people. The inher
itance of the disease would accordingly depend on the transmission
of a constitution very liable to infection.

" Without wishing to deny the existence of such a predisposi
tion to infection, I do not believe that the transmission of tuber
culosis ^ is due merely to the inheritance of a greater degree of
susceptibility. A large number of facts seem to me, on the con
trary, to support the view that infection of the germ plays the chief
part in the process." 1

Concerning the alleged inheritance of drunkenness. Weismann
says:

"It has often been supposed that drunkenness of the parents
at the time of conception may have harmful effect on the nature
of the offspring. The child is said to be born in a weak bodily
and mental condition, and inclined to idiocy, or even to madness,
etc., although the parents may be quite normal both physically
and mentally.

" Cases certainly exist in which drunken parents have given rise
to a completely normal child, although this is not a convincing
proof against the above-named view ; and in spite of the fact that
most, or perhaps even all, the statements with regard to the inju-

ijbid: p. 387.

CHAP. VI] FIRST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 219

rious effects on the offspring will not bear a very close criticism,
I am unwilling to entirely deny the possibility that a harmful
influence may be exerted in such cases. These,_ however, have
nothing to do with heredity, but are concerned with an affection
of the germ l>y means of an external influence.

" The experiments of the brothers Hertwig show that the devel
opment of the fertilized egg in lower animals may be considerably
retarded by the action of various chemical substances, such as
chloral, quinine, and morphia; and we also know that the ova
of sea-urchins, if kept too long in the sea-water before being fer
tilized, tend to lose their vital energy, and consequently many
spermatozoa, instead of a single one, are likely to enter each of
them. A similar result may follow from the effects of the above-
mentioned chemical reagents, and in both cases an abnormal devel
opment of the egg, such as a duplication of parts may be the
consequence.

" It does not appear to me impossible that an intermixture of
alcohol with the blood of the parents may produce similiar effects
on the ovum and sperm-cell. According to the relative quantity
of alcohol, either an exciting or a depressing influence might be
exerted, either of which would lead to abnormal development." J

It appears from these extracts that the effects produced di
rectly on the germ by its environment can scarcely be classed
as inheritances. Infection is not inheritance, and the direct
effects of environment, not clue to infection, may be distin
guished from inheritance by a fundamental difference in char
acter which may be brought out as follows: Inheritance is al
ways detectable by the resemblance existing between one or
more- characters of an individual and corresponding charac
ters occurring in one or more of its ancestors. If a father
has red hair and his son black hair, it would not be said that the
son inherited the color of his hair from his father, would it?
Certainly not. There is no resemblance between the color of
the father's hair and that of the son, and resemblance is neces
sary for the detection of inheritance. Between two characters,
one of which is said to be inherited from the other there is a
causal connection. Weismann has made it appear probable that
the relation is not that between cause and effect, but rather
between effects of a common cause. Into his theory we need
not enter. The universal relation which holds in all true in
heritances, however, is, that between the characters thus causally
related there is a resemblance. The case is very different with
characters caused by peculiarities of environment. There is

ilbid: p. 386.

220 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT I [BOOK II

no detectable resemblance between a high temperature and a
dark color which appear to stand in the relation of cause and
effect in the case of the experiments cited on Polyommatus
phlceas, and as to the determination of sex by the variation of
the food supply in bees, and perhaps in human beings, in what
sense can masculinity or femininity be said to resemble any
particular kind or degree of nutriment? There is no resem
blance to be detected between the characters thus causally re
lated. Indeed, the characters due to the direct action of the
environment should be classed as effects due to prenatal experi
ence, rather than inheritance. It may be asked how an indi
vidual can have an experience before he has even begun to exist?
He does not, but that from which he arises does. An individ
ual may be said to begin to exist at the moment of fertilization
of the ovum by the spermatozoon, but before fertilization these
sexual elements, from the conjunction of which the individual
originates, may, and do, undergo experiences — that is, are
acted upon by their environment, and the effect of such experi
ences may persist in the organism and may even become in
heritable; but so far as is known, it is only experiences of the
germ itself which can thus give rise to inheritable characters
bomatogemc experiences have no inheritable effects That all
the so-called climatic effects should be classed as results of ex
perience rather than of inheritance is clearly seen when we con
sider that they, in common with all the experiences of an in
dividual, exhibit no resemblance to that with which they are
causally connected, whereas inheritances do. A man who in
herits a Roman nose inherits it from some one whose nose re
sembled his, but when a man's nose is broken by the impact
^ ^ the n°SG thereaf'ter resembles

But whether we care to call the transmitted effects of "cli

matic influences inheritances or results of prenatal experience,

t is equally obvious that they can have no influence in chang

ing, an inefficient stock into an efficient one by education, be-

the effect m this class of cases has no resemblance to the

cause^ Hence the influence of the education of a parent on

his offspring would be as likely to make that offspring less in*

telligent as it would to make him more intelligent, and it might

°re ^ °n the faCUltj °f digeSti°n than on that of

Thus from an examination of the three classes of acquired
characters injuries or mutilations, functional variations, and

CHAP. VI] FIRST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 221

climatic or environmental effects, we are led to the conclusion
that characters acquired by the individual, that is, the somatic
individual, are not transmissible, though such as are directly
imposed upon the germ may be; and this latter fact often
gives rise to the belief that the experiences of a somatic indi
vidual are inheritable. Obviously it is the possible transmissi-
bility of the experiences of the somatic individual which is
of interest to us, and the reasoning whereby we conclude that
they are not transmissible may be summarized thus :

If acquired characters are inheritable, the inheritance of
some unmistakable acquired character would be observed.

The inheritance of an unmistakable acquired character has
not been observed.

Therefore acquired characters are not inheritable.

This is a hypothetical syllogism, such as that whereby all
hypotheses are tested. By an examination of the correspond
ing syllogism whereby the hypothesis of universal gravitation
is tested we shall find that the grounds upon which the two
hypotheses are established are similar. Of course, neither syl
logism establishes more than a probable conclusion.

If gravitation were not universal, one or more unmistakable
instances of a material body devoid of gravitation would have
been observed.

No instances of a material body devoid of gravitation have
been observed.

Therefore gravitation is universal.

The minor premise in each of the above syllogisms is merely
a record of experience. The justification for the assertion of
the major premise rests upon the grounds we have for be
lieving that the instances observed are fair samples of the in
stances observable. In the case of gravitation this is generally
conceded. Many billions of billions of bodies have been tested
as to their property of gravitation and none have been found
devoid of that property ; a vastly greater number exist which
have not been tested — which, indeed, are not testable — such as
the bulk of the rocks below the surface of the earth, any frag
ment of which might turn out to be without weight; never
theless, the instances observed are considered fair samples of
the instances observable, and if bodies devoid of gravitation
exist, they must at any rate be very rare, or they would almost
certainly have been observed, considering- the jsreat extension of
the range of observation. Euler's remark that " although he
had never made trial of the stones which compose the church

222

TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAET I [Boon II

of Magdeburg, yet he had not the least doubt that all of them
were heavy and would fall if unsupported " illustrates our point,
that we judge of the untestable cases by the testable ones — of
the unobserved by the observed.

On precisely similar grounds the non-mhentability of ac
quired characters is established. Acquired characters may be
divided into (1) Those whose inheritability is testable. (2)
Those whose inheritability is not testable. The confidence with
which our major premise may be asserted depends upon how
fair a sample the instances belonging to the first class are of
those belonging to the second. Nor does the fairness of the
sample depend on the numerical proportion between the two.
This we have pointed out in Chapter 2, but for the sake of
clearness will illustrate its application to the induction we are
considering. If we are drawing balls from a huge ballot box,
containing say 10,000,000 balls, half of which are white and
half of which are black, we need not draw the whole
10,000,000 balls in order to get a good idea of the relative pro
portion between white and black balls, provided the balls are
mixed and not segregated. After we have drawn fifty or one
hundred we shall be able to draw a fairly good conclusion. If,
however, we have independent reasons for believing that the balls
are segregated, that is, that the balls drawn are not a fair
sample of those not drawn, then our conclusion will be vi
tiated. Suppose instances of inheritable acquired characters to
be represented by black balls and instances of non-inheritable
acquired characters to be represented by white balls. Then
from the great ballot box of nature it is found that we draw
nothing but white balls, and we draw millions of them. There
fore we conclude that the ballot box contains white balls only,
though we have no means of making our conclusion other than
probable. It may be that the balls are so unequally distributed
that about the particular parts of the ballot box from which we
are able to draw, white balls only are congregated, but until
some reason is given for thinking this we are entitled to believe
that the sample drawn is a fair one. The instances of acquired
characters which are testable and have been tested include
mental as well as physical characters, injuries, functional varia
tions, and environmental effects, yet among them not a single
unmistakable case of inheritance is to be observed. This, of
course, is too significant to be ignored, and forces us to the con
clusion that if nature can and does produce inheritable ac
quired characters she at any rate carefully confines them to

CHAP. VI] FIBST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 223

the class of non-testable characters; so carefully indeed that by
no oversight is one included among the millions of testable
cases. Such an assumption is extremely improbable and until
some reason is given for making it we are not entitled to do so.
The burden of proof is upon those who make the assumption.

Thus the second hypothesis (p. 209) is disposed of, and as the
third is our only alternative we are forced to admit it and to
conclude that no* acquired characters are inheritable.

Before leaving this subject I desire to emphasize one point.
In order to prove the inheritance of an acquired character it is
necessary to establish by observation the truth of two propo
sitions. (1) That a given individual A has a given character
istic b which was unmistakably acquired, and not inherited by
him. (2) That the characteristic b appeared in one or more of
the offspring of A. A very few observations of this character —
sufficient to convince us that they were not mere coincidences —
would establish the Lamarkian contention. Many persons think
they know of such observations; but if they will carefully test
them they will, I feel assured, find that they fail to fulfil con
dition (1). The character inherited must be unmistakably
an acquired one — if there is doubt about the matter it is clear
that the conditions required for proof are not fulfilled.

I have thus examined the subject of the inheritability of ac
quired characters at considerable length for two reasons : first
because the conclusion arrived at has immediate application to
the most vital problems now before the American people, and
particularly vital to their posterity: and second because the
practically universal belief is directly contrary to that which
the evidence establishes. It is a very general conviction, and
one almost ineradicable, that an inferior race may be converted
into a superior one by changing its surroundings, and particu
larly by the influence of education. A fair sample of the pre
vailing opinion is that expressed by Jacob Eiis in the " Battle
with the Slum/' in which he says "You have got your boy
and the heredity of the next one when you can order his set
ting." The fact is "his setting" can, and obviously does, in
fluence the boy, but it has not one iota of influence on the hered
ity of the next one, and as we shall presently show, it is fortunate
for the human race that it has not. The individual may he ele
vated by education but not the race. If. for example, we assume
that the negro race is an inferior one — is congenitally deficient
in intelligence and character as compared with the white race (I
do not assert that it is, but simply nssume it tor the sake of

224 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAET I [BOOK II

illustration) — then the conclusion we have established entitles
us to predict that unless some other means than mere changed
environment., including education, is adopted, that it will per
manently remain congenitally deficient in intelligence and char
acter; that the negro child born after ten or one hundred or
one thousand generations of education will start from exactly
the same point as the child whose ancestors received no educa
tion at all. I am aware that this assertion will be emphatically
denied and that the advance in civilization of various races will
be adduced as evidence that it is unfounded. The assertion,
however, rests upon the evidence we have cited in the fore
going discussion, and is entirely unshaken by the advance of
any community in civilization, whether such advance is material
merely or moral and mental likewise. For in such an advance,
the individuals of each succeeding generation are educated bet
ter than those of the preceding generation; knowledge contin
ually accumulates and as a result the arts continually advance,
but the race remains stationary; that is, the congenital charac
teristics, the intellectual and moral capacity or efficiency of
the race is not altered. The average individual of one gen
eration may, after he has been educated, be an improvement
upon the average individual of the generation preceding, but
this is simply because he has been better educated, mentally
and morally, not because his capacity for education or improve
ment, his potentiality for cultivation, is any greater. The level
of intelligence and character from which he starts is exactly
the same as that of his ancestors of a thousand years before.
The effects of education and inheritance are continually con
fused, and hence the effects due to an improved education are
continually attributed to an improved inheritance. As well
might an engineer infer that he had improved the quality of
his engine and boiler from the observation that when he used
better coal he obtained a better efficiency. As well might a
farmer infer that he had produced an improved variety of corn
from the observation that on sowing the same seed in soil bet
ter and better fertilized he obtained a better and better crop.

But, it may be objected, what difference does it make if we
can continually improve individuals by bringing them up in
continually improved surround ino-s, why should we care at what
level they start? What we desire to obtain is individuals of
intelligence and character — efficient individuals — we do not
care how we get them. The reply to the criticism implied in
this observation is that although by ignoring congenital ca-

CHAP. VI] FIKST FACTOK OF HAPPINESS 225

pacity, and continually improving education we can get a con
tinually improving assemblage of individuals, yet the assem
blage of individuals so obtained will not be nearly so efficient,
will not be nearly equal in intelligence and character to those
who might be obtained if we considered loth factors of the prob
lem — inheritance and education — race and training. The
greater the congenital capacity, the higher the level from which
an individual starts, the more will any given amount of educa
tion accomplish. We might spend six hours a day for twenty
years in educating a born dullard and never do more perhaps
than make him fit for the duties say of a shipping clerk, whereas
one-tenth the same amount of educational effort expended on
the mind of a Newton, a Faraday, or a Lincoln, would convert
it into a mighty engine for the advancement of mankind. He
would be a shallow engineer who inferred that because he had
prospects of a continually improving quality of coal that there
fore nothing was to be gained by improving the efficiency of
his boiler, upon which its capacity for converting the energy
of the coal into steam depends. He would be a shallow farmer
who concluded that because he had prospects of a progressively
improving quality of fertilizer that therefore it made no differ
ence what kind of corn he planted . — • whether a variety yielding
forty bushels to the acre or one yielding only twenty bushels
under the same conditions. It is not by improvements in fer
tilizers and methods of cultivation alone that agriculture ad
vances, but by improvement in breeds and to improve a breed
fertilization and cultivation of the soil is of no value.

Having thus discussed the possible means of advancing a
stock — of increasing its efficiency of conversion by inheritance
— we must consider what means are adapted to deteriorate it —
to diminish its efficiency — for both in wild and domesticated or
ganisms retrogression is to be observed as well as improvement,
and it is as important to prevent the first as to promote the
second. We have seen that races may be improved by the
method of selection, but not by that of education. By the same
evidence we may infer that deterioration may result from
selection, but that from education (with one class of excep
tions) we have nothing to fear. Let us take up the latter topic
first and see just what education can and cannot do to de
teriorate a race.

And first, as to injuries. We cannot produce a mutilated
or deformed breed by mutilating or deforming their parents :
second, as to functional variations, we cannot make a race weak

15

226 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT I [BOOK II

physically by preventing their progenitors from exercising their
bodies, or weak mentally by withholding from said progenitors
the means of education: neither can the results of immoral
practices (unless they have certain secondary effects to be dis
cussed presently) or of acquired infirmities of will be visited
by the parent upon its offspring through inheritance. Many
persons perceive that by means of the alleged power of modify
ing breeds by the inheritance of acquired characters mankind
might be indefinitely and rapidly elevated mentally, morally,
and physically, but they appear not to perceive that had such a
power been in operation throughout history the human race
would, by this time, have been in such a condition of mental
and moral degeneration as to offer but a poor subject for im
provement. If the use of the intellectual faculties can elevate
a race mentally, their disuse can deteriorate it mentally: if the
habitual exercise of will power, self-control, and virtue can
raise a race morally, the habitual practice of self-indulgence and
vice can lower it morally. If civilization can advance a race by
inheritance, savagery can retrograde it by the same means.
Most races have never known any civilization; hence if bar
barous practices have a deteriorating effect on breeds most
races have been deteriorating ever since the human breed orig
inated, and the men of to-day must be fearfully degenerate
compared with those of twenty thousand years ago, for the bale
ful effects of their " setting " have been accumulating for srx
hundred generations. Hence to bring the members of these
races back to the condition in which they were twenty
thousand years ago we must, according to the Lamarkians, by
the inherited effects of an improved " setting " nullify the ac
cumulated degeneracy of six hundred generations. The prospect
is not encouraging. Even the most civilized races are but par
tially and recently emerged from barbarism, and hence they
are, as far as the alleged inherited effects of their improved
condition goes, in practically the same position as their savage
contemporaries. What are a few centuries of civilization to ten
thousand or one hundred thousand years of savagery? Fortu
nately for the human race, however, acquired characters are not
inherited, and barbarism through lack of education has in
volved no race degeneracy, as civilization through education can
involve no race improvement.

When the third class of acquired characters, climatic effects,
or those induced directly by the environment, are examined, a
means of deterioration is discovered. Any diseased or morbid

CHAP. VI] FIKST FACTOK OF HAPPINESS 227

physical condition, whether the result of accident or of vicious
or unhealthy practices, which disseminates through the system of
the parent that which may infect or poison the germ-plasm itself
will probably result in a diseased or enfeebled issue, and a race
whose habits are such as to foster infectious diseases or alcohol
ism will inevitably deteriorate; but that these effects are not
inheritances, but due to prenatal experience is made clear by
one test, viz., that they are not indefinitely transmissible. If,
for example, a parent A acquires an infectious disease which he
transmits to his offspring B, and B by wholesome living or other
means rids himself of that disease before himself breeding, then
his offspring C will not inherit the disease, nor will there be any
tendency to it in any of the offspring of C, immediate or re
mote. This, of course, is not true of predispositions to disease,
or of any spontaneous characteristic. Supernumerary digits, for
instance, whether amputated or not, are indefinitely trans
missible, and their complete absence in one generation does not
insure their absence in subsequent generations. Thus the trans
mission of " climatic " effects is further to be distinguished from
inheritance.

When we turn from the method of education to that of selec
tion we find a potent agent of race degeneration. It is, in fact,
much easier to breed an inferior race by selection than a
superior one; and in modern society there are a number of
causes in constant operation which are steadily deteriorating the
breed of all civilized communities. Uncivilized communities
are also subject to some degenerating influences, but these are
counteracted by influences of an opposite tendency. So far as I
have knowledge no cause of race elevation is put in operation by
civilization, while those contrary in tendency are fostered by
it. At the same time it eradicates those causes which in savage
society tend to prevent degeneracy. No peril which threatens
the human race is so grave as that of degeneracy; yet those in
power, who alone are in a position to do anything to check its
progress, are ignorant of the whole matter. I know of no more
lucid exposition of this subject than that contained in President
Jordan's brief essay entitled " The Blood of the Nation." The
object of the essay is to show that while it is true that the
"blood of a nation determines its history," it is equally true
that the " history of a nation determines its blood." Any nation
whose history sets agencies in operation which result in the
selection of the inefficient must shortly become degenerate. The
philosophers of history are fond of telling us that nations, like

228 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT I [BOOK II

individuals,, must inevitably decline and die, and vaguely
imagining that it is so much a part of the eternal order of
things as to be uncaused and inscrutable, they usually make no
effort to discover the cause of the phenomenon. But like other
effects it has a cause, and a slight examination of the history of
great nations reveals it. Civilization sows the seeds of its own
destruction by inducing racial decay. It suspends the natural
selection which among savages neutralizes the tendency to
decay, and in its place substitutes agencies which hasten the
nation to its doom. These agencies are not always the same,
but they all operate in the same manner — they result in the
selection of the inefficient and incapable of each generation to be
the breeders of the next. As President Jordan says:

"A race of men or a herd of cattle are governed by the same
laws of selection. Those who survive inherit the traits of their
own actual ancestry. In the herd of cattle, to destroy the strongest
bulls, the fairest cows, the most promising calves, is to allow those
not strong nor fair nor promising to become the parents of tho
coming herd. Under this influence the herd will deteriorate
although the individuals of the inferior herd are no worse than
their own actual parents. Such a process is called race degenera
tion and it is the only race degeneration known in the history of
cattle^ or men. The scrawny, lean, infertile herd is the natural
offspring of the same type of parents."

Spain, the greatest nation of mediaeval Europe, bred a de
generate race because the best of her breed either entered the
celibate clergy and left no posterity, or were killed or driven
Irom the country by the Inquisition because they had the ability
to think for themselves. Honce the mediocrities and clowns
were left to become the parents of the succeeding generations
and Spain, after the Reformation, was rapidly shorn of her
power because she could not furnish the men capable of retain
ing it. A similar cause has had a similar effect in other Latin
nations.

War is a potent cause of degeneracy in all nations which en
courage the best of their breed to enlist. Warlike nations rapidly
decay, for if I the best .are killed in large numbers the inferior
residue will furnish the characteristics of the succeeding genera-
This cannot be continued long without producing a
nation of mcapables. Jordan brings out this point with power-

CHAP. VI] FIRST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 229

" Greece died because the men who made her glory had all
passed away and left none of their kin and therefore none of their
kind. ' 'Tis Greece, but living- Greece no more ' ; for the Greek
of to-day, for the most part, never came from the loins of Leonidas
or Miltiades. He is the son of the stable-boys and scullions and
slaves of the day of her glory, those of whom imperial Greece
could make no use in her conquest of Asia."

" Why did Rome fall ? It was not because untrained hordes
were stronger than disciplined legions. It was not that she grew
proud, luxurious, corrupt, and thereby gained a legacy of physical
weakness. We read of her wealth, her extravagance, her indolence
and vice; but all this caused only the downfall of the enervated,
the vicious, and the indolent. The Roman legions did not riot
in wealth. The Roman generals were not all entangled in the
wiles of Cleopatra."

" ' The Roman Empire,' says Seeley, ' perished for want of men/
You will find this fact on the pages of every history, though few
have pointed out war as the final and necessary cause of the Roman
downfall. In his recent noble history of the ' Downfall of the
Ancient Would' ('Der Untergang der Antiken Welt,' 1897), Pro
fessor Otto Seeck of Greifeswald, makes this fact very apparent.
The cause of the fall of Rome is found in the ' extinction of the
best' ('Die Ausrottung der Besten'), and all that remains to
the historian is to give the details of tlTis extermination. He says,
1 In Greece a wealth of spiritual power went down in the suicidal
wars.' In Rome l Marius and Cinna slew the aristocrats by hun
dreds and thousands. Sulla destroyed no less thoroughly the demo
crats, and whatever of noble blood, survived fell as an offering to
the proscription of the triumvirate.' * The Romans had less of
spontaneous power to lose than 'the Greeks, and so desolation came
to them all the sooner. He who was bold enough to rise politically
was almost without exception thrown to the ground. Only, cow
ards remained, and from their brood came forward the new gen
erations. Cowardice showed iself in lack of originality and
slavish following of masters and traditions.' Had the Romans
been still alive, the Romans of the old republic, neither inside
nor outside forces could have worked the fall of Rome."

The fearful mortality of the American Civil War left the
Americans a poorer race; for the best of both sections were
sacrificed and for such a loss no amount of advancement in the
arts and education can compensate. It means a permanent loss
of efficiency in the race which peoples North America and in
their posterity forever.

Civilization supplies other means of race deterioration and
some of them are discussed by President Jordan, but the most
potent of all, so far as the modern ideal of civilization is con-

230 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [BOOK II

cerned, he completely ignores. As it will be more appropriately
discussed in connection with its causes (p. 373) 1 shall

C° SSd much for 'inheritance as a means of altering for better or
worse the individual efficiency of a nation or of society. It is at
once the most potent for good or for ill of all the determinants of
happiness. Whether society will ever sufficiently advance to
appreciate and act upon the knowledge of the subject already
available, time alone will determine, but there is strong reason
to hope that it will. Already sufficient knowledge concerning
heredity has been accumulated to insure to the nation which
will but act upon it, not only immunity from decay and death,
but the moral, material, and political supremacy of the earth.

The second method of altering the efficiency of the individual
for the better (or worse) is by education. We have already seen
that as a means of altering a race education is powerless, but as
a means of altering the individual it is potent, I have no in
tention of entering into a detailed discussion of the subject at
this point, but shall confine myself to some of the fundamental
principles of education, as they are deducible from the theory of
utility. Useful education is simply a means of increasing the
efficiency of individuals as agents for the conversion of potential
into actual happiness — of converting terrestrial resources to
useful purposes. It may modify individuals physically, men
tally, and morally.

The discussion of physical education need not detain us long.
As good health is the most vital of purely physical character
istics, the means best adapted to maintain it, as fast as these are
discovered by the study of hygiene and medicine, should become
a matter of common knowledge. I do not mean that all mankind
should study medicine, but that an understanding of the laws of
health should be generally diffused. If everyone, for example,
were forewarned concerning the ease with which evil habits —
such as the drinking habit — are acquirable by human beings,
it would be a factor" in preventing such evils. A public knowl
edge of the utility of quarantining contagious diseases and of
taking other measures for maintaining the health of a com
munity is also desirable.

The degree in which physical training should enter into the
education of youth is a matter of detail not suitable for dis
cussion here. That some training, and deliberate training,
should be had is now generally acknowledged, but to permit it

CHAP. ViJ FIRST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 231

to monopolize attention to the exclusion of other training, as
among the Greeks, is short-sighted policy. Modern communities,
nevertheless, might profit by the Greek example. Were means
adopted to stimulate interest in athletics among the youth of
great cities by organizing contests in which all could compete, it
would divert much attention and energy now devoted to the
acquisition of vices and the commission of crimes. It would
serve as a stepping stone to better things and would be well
adapted to enlist the interest of those whose opportunities have
been so restricted as to afford scant resources for intellectual
enjoyment.

As a means of cultivating the mind education has two im
mediate aims. (1) To supply information. (2) To train the
faculties. These functions are co-essential. Educators deem
the second one paramount, because a trained faculty has a
wider application than all but the most fundamental and uni
versal of information. A musician trained in his art can apply
his skill to any particular piece of, or occasion for, music which
the exigencies of his vocation may demand, whereas a routine
knowledge of even a vast number of musical compositions
would not confer such a power. A trained observer can apply
his powers wherever the faculty of observation may be exercised.
A man whose powers of reasoning have been cultivated can
make inferences as well in one department of knowledge as in
another, provided his intuitionism is equally distributed. Mere
information, however extended, cannot provide the means of
dealing with the new and involved exigencies which life presents
and by which men's acts, for better or worse, must be deter
mined. Hence the effort of deliberate education is, or should
be, directed more to the training of man's faculties than to the
acquisition of varied information. Certain vital and funda
mental information, however, must be, and is, supplied. The
more men specialize, the more information they require in their
speciality, and as knowledge increases, specialization becomes
more and more a necessity.

Although it is desirable that a man's education should be in
progress throughout life, and in alert minds it generally is, it
must be and is recognized that the earlier portion of life is that
in which systematic education is desirable. There are two
principal reasons for this. The first is particularly obvious.
Since the efficiency induced by education is only that of an in
dividual lifetime, the earlier that efficiency is developed the
greater will be the proportional part of life during which it is

232

TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAET I [BOOK II

effective The second reason is but little less obvious than the
first The capacity to acquire information and to mould the
faculties is, in general, greater during youth than in maturity.
Hence educational effort is more effective at that period,
capacity to acquire beliefs and habits of thought is particularly
great in youth and in some minds is practically confined to that
period of life. Professor James remarks :

" Outside of their own business the ideas gained by men before
they are twenty-five are practically the only ideas they shall have
in their lives. They cannot get anything new. Disinterested
curiosity is passed, the mental grooves and channels set, the power
of assimilation gone." 1

The significance of the characteristic of human nature here
mentioned, in all its vast consequences to the race, we shall
discuss presently.

After the acquisition of certain fundamental branches — the
notation of knowledge — reading, writing, and some others, the
course of systematic education separates into two rather dis
tinct lines of effort — into academic and technical education.
The first seeks to supply men with the means of utilizing their
time in the production of happiness by cultivating their musical,
artistic, literary, or other tastes, by the indulgence of which
happiness is directly produced. The second seeks to supply the
means of utilizing time in the production of means to happi
ness by training men in law, medicine, engineering, etc. By
the application of knowledge so acquired the terrestrial con
ditions essential to the maintenance of happiness are secured.
Academic education is concerned primarily with the fine arts;
technical education with the so-called useful arts. The restric
tion of the designation useful to the arts concerned in the pro
duction of wealth well illustrates the prevailing confusion as to
the nature of usefulness. The fine arts are, in fact, more im
mediately useful than the useful arts, since they produce happi
ness, directly, while the useful arts produce it indirectly if at
all, and we shall hereafter give reasons for believing that, as
society is at present constituted, they fail to subserve any im
mediate useful end whatever.

Academic education, of course, should increase man's effici
ency, both in his primary and secondary capacity. It should,
in the first place, seek to promote the simplicity and variety of
his tastes by increasing his sensitiveness to the possibilities of

i Principles of Psychology, Vol. 2, p. 402.

CHAP. VI] FIKST FACTOK OF HAPPINESS 233

happiness in his surroundings, by opening his mind to the
beauties of nature and of art, by giving him access through
literature to companionship with the great minds of the past
and present, by revealing to him the intrinsically interesting
character of the animate and inanimate world of which he is a
portion. To a responsive mind more pleasure will be yielded by
the exploration of a rocky pasture than will be derived by an
insensate one from contemplation of all the wonders of the
earth. Academic education should seek to so increase man's
mental resources as to make him a pleasant companion to him
self. If companionable to himself he generally will not fail to
be companionable to others, and thus by adding to the possibil
ities of happiness in the surroundings of others he will augment
their happiness, and through sympathy his own.

One defect in modern academic training is particularly con
spicuous — a defect which, by sheer force of inertia, persists,
though recognized and condemned by numerous critics on both
sides of the Atlantic. I refer to the study of dead languages in
secondary schools and as a part of the regular curriculum in
colleges. Had educators a clear, instead of a vague, idea of the
function of education they would see that the time now occupied
in attempting to teach Latin and Greek could be utilized to far
greater advantage in the acquisition of other knowledge now
neglected. But the end they seek is not clear, hence they cannot
determine their course by a deliberate adaptation of means to
attain it, but are compelled to drift along in the direction deter
mined by tradition, seeking and failing to attain the ideal of a
past age. It is a clear case of control by dogma. Latin was in
the past the language of the learned world. All the scholars of
the Middle Ages and even of later times used it. Hence in the
past, book knowledge was inaccessible to him who was ignorant
of the language. But a couple of centuries ago things began to
change, translations were made and scholars begun writing in
modern tongues: the ideal of education, however, did not
change much. The tool of the scholar became the bauble of the
pedant. Men were deemed deep who uttered platitudes in
Latin, though no one ever found what they said in modern
tongues worth alluding to; and the shallowest conversation, if
embellished with classic quotations, was considered profound.
The ability to compose bad Latin hexameters was of more im
portance in the colleges than any amount of scientific knowledge.
Sydney Smith's comments on this curious symptom of dogma
tism are amusing:

234 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [BOOK II

"A learned man! — a scholar! — a man of erudition! Fpon
whom are these epithets of approbation bestowed ? Are they given
to men acquainted with the science of government? thoroughly
masters of the geographical and commercial relations of Europe?
to men who know the properties of bodies, and their action upon
each other? No: this is not learning; it is chemistry, or political
economy — not learning. The distinguishing abstract term, the
epithet of Scholar, is reserved for him who writes on the Aolic
reduplication, and is familiar with the Syllburgian method of
arranging defectives in w and p. The picture which a young-
Englishman, addicted to the pursuit of knowledge, draws his

beau ideal of human nature — his top and consummation of 'man's
powers — is a knowledge of the Greek language. His object is not
to reason, to imagine, or to invent; but to conjugate, decline and
derive Ihe situations of imaginary glory which he draws for
himself, are the detection of an anapaest in the wrong place or
the restoration of a dative case which Craiizius had passed over
and the never-dying Ernesti failed to observe."

Conditions have improved since this was written, but in the
higher institutions of learning the old ideal survives The re
quirement of Latin or Greek in the colleges forces the prepara
tory schools to teach them. Tims, during a course lastin-
several years, the student's attention is monopolized bv studies
which will never be of any use, and which as a means of mental
discipline have not nearly the value of others now neglected
The claim made is that these studies are a necessarv preparation
for the humanities -that the great classics of antiquity which
r/7w b^ tranf atlon are thus rendered accessible to the
student. Were this claim just, it would be some excuse for the
system, but experience proves it preposterous. Less than one
out of a hundred of those who go through the years of prepara-

valueT IT1™ SQ ^ P™fi.cien<* to ^Predate th/litL y
value of Homer, Sophocles, Virgil or Horace. Student, may
abor through book after book of the Iliad or Eneid w th he
help of grammar and dictionary, but their attention is so
centered upon syntax that poetrv is excluded. These works are
about as much appreciated by the school boy who reads them
a part of his daily task, as Shakespeare would be by a ciM h
the third reader, compelled to wade through Hamlet bv he ad
of pomes" m words of one syllable. Indeed the effect of
so-called "classical » training is more often than not to create I
genume distaste for the classics by associating ?hemn the
student's imnd with unprofitable drudgery, and at the end of
his course he is usually prepared to echo'with enthusiasm the

CHAP. VI] FIRST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 235

parting salutation of Byron : " Then, farewell, Horace, whom I
hated so ! "

When we turn from academic to technical education we find
no such dominance of dogma. This is because it is a thing of
recent development and has no traditions to retard it. As the
useful arts are founded upon science, technical education is
scientific, and though much of the information imparted has no
popular interest and does not pretend to have, its value as
mental training is much greater than the study of languages, or
even of history. Hence technical education attains its immedi
ate end with a much greater degree of success than academic.
The present work claims to be a contribution to technology.
Its aim is to show how the production of happiness, considered
as an art whose practice and promotion should be the sole object
of society, may be founded upon the inductive or common-sense
method, 'just as at the present time the art of producing cotton
fabrics or sulphuric acid or glass-ware is founded upon that
method. It seeks to supply a technology of happiness of which
all other branches of technology are, or rather should be, but
tributaries. Unless these tributaries flow to a common end,
and that end the totality of happiness, they, and the arts
founded upon them, become useless and valueless — indeed, as
we shall have occasion to show, they may become harmful. To
lose sight of this is to lose sight of the whole object of industry,
of art, and of the technology upon which they are founded.
Technical education is adapted more to the increase of a man's
efficiency in his secondary capacity than in his primary, because
the applications of technical knowledge are of a nature to affect
the welfare of society as a whole ; but in a measure it is useful in
both capacities.

In what degree the moral elements in man, will and altruism,
may be cultivated is a matter of speculation. No systematic
effort to accomplish either object has ever been undertaken.
Will has been completely neglected, though its deliberate cul
tivation, if as effective as with the faculty of reasoning, would
result in extraordinary benefits. In the first place, it would
increase man's capacity to deliberately choose the right, for it
takes will power to select alternatives opposed to self-interest;
and yet these are often right. In the second place, it would
afford him the assurance that his determination was sufficient
to go through with difficult tasks from which men, conscious
of feeble will power, would shrink; and this is often useful, for
undertakings hard and painful in their inception may result

236 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [BOOK II

in ultimate benefits which more than compensate for the evils
involved. In the third place, it would supply the best founda
tion for what we have referred to as adaptibiUty , the third factor
of adjustability — the capacity to adapt our desires to our ability
to satisfy them. Men may achieve happiness by either getting
what they want, or wanting what they get; desires may be
gratified by adapting the conditions to the desires, or the de
sires to the conditions To do the second requires will hence

man's first impulse is to do the first; but the second would as
frequently, or more frequently, be the better alternative were
man's faculties educated as they perhaps might be. Adaptability
is the essence of stoicism, and Marcus Aurelius clearly portrays
the attitude of mind which that school of philosophers cul
tivated :

" Is it not better to use what is in thy power like a free man
than to desire in a slavish and abject way what is not in thy
power? And who has told thee that the gods do not aid us even
in the things which are in our power ? Begin then to pray for such
things, and thou wilt see. One man prays thus: How shall I
be able to possess that woman? Do thou pray thus: How shall
I not desire to possess her? Another prays thus: How shall I
be released from this ? Pray thou : How shall I not desire to be
released? Another thus: How shall I not lose my little son?
Thou thus: How shall I not be afraid to lose him? In fine turn
thy prayers this way, and see what comes?"

When no benefit can accrue from keeping the attention upon
a subject, it is clearly best to deliberately exclude it from the
mind centering the attention upon some subject from which
benefit can accrue. The philosophy of adaptability has never
Goose • GXpreSSed than in the familiar dilemma of Mother

" For every evil under the sun
There is a remedy, or there is none.
f there be one, try and find it,
If there be none, never mind it."

Had sentient beings sufficient control over attention, were
desire entirely a matter of volition, other factors of happiness
would require little discussion. Enjoyment could be had from
any occupation simply by taking thought, and all pain, S3
with it all evil, would be at an end. Men could be happy on the
rack or at the stake. Under such circumstances

CHAP. VI] FIRST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 237

would be independent of external conditions. While means of
realizing such a state of things have never been proposed, there
is no doubt that a consistent training of the will would render
man far less the sport of circumstances than he is. The educa
tion of the Stoics involved such training, but it has no counter
part in modern education — a defect which educators should
strive to correct.

Rather more attention is paid to the cultivation of altruism
than of will. The most potent factors in our country for
the stimulation of altruism are the home, or other habitual
association, and in a less degree the church and the school. In
the majority of homes children from their earliest years are
taught courtesy and the church reinforces this teaching by in
culcating the moral code of Christianity — which in its sim
plicity is an ideally altruistic code. But it is a matter of
familiar experience that altruism may be taught more effectively
by example than by. precept. Hence it is of little use for parents
who practise discourtesy to attempt by precept to instil courtesy
into their children, and it is equally ineffective for ministers to
preach the Golden Rule and then fail to practise it. Altruism
between man and man is so easily distinguished from egotism
that little mental effort is required to acquire a knowledge of the
distinction. It is this fact which so frequently helps to deceive
men into thinking that everyone knows the difference between
right and wrong. In the simple everyday relations between
man and man the difference between right and wrong is indeed
practically identical with that between individual altruism and
egotism, but in the more complex affairs which involve the
policy of states right may not so easily be distinguished from
wrong. A far more thorough knowledge of the relations be
tween men and their environment — animate and inanimate — is
required, and intuitionism is not adapted to reveal it. When
dealing with such affairs, to be practical we must first be
profound.

In private morality there is little need of multiplying ex
planations or precepts, and much need of cultivating an
altruistic habit. Naturally, a system of moral discipline, of
punishments and rewards, whereby the powerful impulses of
self-interest are utilized is almost essential to the successiul
formation of such a habit — but such a system would operate
automatically in a community which consistently practised
altruism, and a child brought up therein would acquire the
habit without the necessity of precept, simply by imitation.

238 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT I [BOOK II

The public approval involved in conformity to, and the dis
approval involved in departure from, the prevailing practice
would be sufficient discipline for all save those most power
fully predisposed to egotism. For them a sterner discipline
would be required, a discipline which could hardly be classed as
a branch of education, though not without educative features.

Of the characteristics of home life best adapted to promote
altruism there is little need to speak. It is a well worn subject.
Example is the most powerful instrument of instruction. Dis
cipline, when required, should be consistent. When breaches of
the adopted code invariably and promptly meet with punish
ment, the necessity for punishment may be almost dispensed
with. On the other hand, an inconsistent and lax discipline fails
to accomplish its object, though it involves, in the end, more
punishment than strict discipline. This rule holds as well for a
community as for a family. The most merciful discipline is the
strictest, though strict discipline does not imply a restricted
code of conduct. Neither in the family nor in the community
should punishment be dictated by passion. Discipline is an
instrument of Justice and Justice cannot accept emotion of any
kind as a guide.

It is a common opinion that the function of the church as a
factor in moral education is a subject excluded from the sphere
of science, and not adapted to treatment by the scientific
method. Such an opinion must be erroneous, for whatever is
excluded from science is excluded from common sense, since the
methods of the two are identical. Conduct not controlled by
common sense is fortuitously controlled, and codes of morals,
like codes of belief, left to the whims of intuitionism, whether
of individuals or of communities, are left to chance. The
church attempts to provide for the guidance of mankind two
systems, more or less associated with one another: (1) A system
of morality. (2) A system of cosmology, usually called theology.
The first claims to inform us concerning the Tightness and
wrongness of conduct. The second claims to inform us con
cerning the truth or untruth of propositions — particularly of
certain propositions respecting the origin, history, and destiny
of the universe, and of man as one of the sentient beings in
habiting it; and, moreover, the church claims that its system of
morality is deducible from its system of cosmology. It claims
that because the universe and man had a particular origin and
history, and will have a particular destiny, that certain kinds
of conduct are right and certain other kinds wrong. Thus

CHAP. VI] FIRST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 239

arises the prevailing theological system of morals, founded upon
a series of syllogisms of the following form : Acts which God
approves are right: acts which He disapproves are wrong. He
approves the class of acts A and disapproves the class of acts B.
Therefore A is right and B is wrong. The data for establishing
the minor premises are derived from Holy Writ, which is a
product of revelation. This statement of the theological founda
tion of morality, I believe, is correct so far as theology supplies
any specifiable foundation. To be sure, among the different
sects there is disagreement as to what is signified by certain
expressions occurring in Scripture; hence there is some diver
gence in the various moral codes, but the essential part of the
system is the major premise — the theological definition of right
and wrong. We have already suggested why science must reject
this definition. In connection with the subject of education
some further discussion is almost imperative.

In order to contrast the theological with the utilitarian' founda
tion of morality, let us state the latter in the same form, thus:
Acts which presumably result in the maximum surplus of
happiness are right: those which do not are wrong. The
class of acts A presumably results in the maximum surplus of
happiness; the class of acts B does not. Therefore A is right and
B is wrong. A glance shows that these two systems are irrec
oncilable. The first asserts the approval of God to be the
criterion of right: the other asserts the surplus of happiness to
be the criterion. Of course, could it be shown that God and a
utilitarian Justice approve the same acts the two codes would
become identical, but this woukl only be an accident. It so
happens, however, that this accident occurs so far as relates to
many, and the most important classes, of acts. Both the
Christian and the utilitarian code advocate altruism, which
suggests that the former is, in reality, the latter somewhat dis
guised and mixed up with various extraneous doctrines; since,
if the surplus of happiness is not the criterion of right and
wrong, no reason why altruism should be deemed right and
egotism wrong can be suggested. The theologian may claim
that, as the Christian God is a beneficent one, He approves
(in general) those acts which result in the greatest surplus
of happiness; but such a claim is little more than an ad
mission that it is this surplus which is the real criterion. The
theologian claims that should His approval be reversed, right
and wrong would be reversed. The utilitarian claims that they
would remain as before. Had Christ directed us to do unto

240 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [Boon II

others as we would not that they do unto us, the consistent
Christian would be compelled to accept this inversion of the
Golden Rule as his guide, because he judges of the value of the
precept by the authority from which it proceeds. The util
itarian, on the other hand, would reject any inversion of the
Golden Rule from whatever source proceeding, since he deems
right and wrong independent of all authority. The sum of two
and two is independent of what any being, whether man or
God, believes about it; and the distinction between right and
wrong is equally independent of how any being, whether man
or God, feels about it, nor does the fact that right must always
involve probability make any difference; since the only way we
may avoid acting upon that alternative whose presumption of
happiness is a maximum is to act upon one whose presumption
of happiness is less than a maximum. Anything which alters
the presumption of happiness of an alternative can alter the
Tightness of an alternative, but nothing else can. Rio-ht is not a
mere matter of taste, whether the taste be that of God or man
God could make two and two equal five by thinking so the
theological definition of right and wrong would have some
foundation; at present it has none but accident

The observed similarity between the Christian and the util
itarian codes of .morals leads to rather a curious result The
dictum of science respecting the teaching of the church is that
its system of cosmology or theology is incorrect; that its system
ol morality is correct; at least so far as that essential part which
advocates altruism is concerned. Hence the function of the
church should be to teach morality, but not theology and
as morality is taught better by example than by precept it
should devote its energies and resources more to deeds than to
words; to practice rather than to preaching; and this, I believe
t is doing more and more. Hence there is reason to believe
; the church to-day is a more beneficent factor in societv
than it has ever been before; but it is not preaching which

LtpY \nf Cent 'Pr^.chers to° often give their hearers
mere husks forever dwelling upon precepts which everyone
recognizes but upon which there is no need to dwell. Preachers
dom tell us anything new. But when ministers and church
members go about doing good, causing pleasure and relieving
pain in^short, increasing the surplus of happiness, their practicl
DreSr ^^ff^^f^ve effect which discounts a world of
preaching Could the church, by the united effect of example
and moral discipline, substitute altruism for egotism in the

CHAP. VI] FIRST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 241

personal relations of men; could it so extend the practice of
courtesy as to make men habitually find their own happiness in
the happiness of others — could it convert altruism into a
habit as egotism now is — it would make the achievements of
science appear insignificant; for though science must be
credited with having created civilization, it has not as yet ap
plied civilization to a beneficent purpose. Whatever beneficent
effects civilization has thus far had have been incidental
rather than deliberate, for society seems not to realize that
civilization, like everything else, is useless except as a means to
happiness. Hence it often defeats its only useful end.

The church then as a factor in moral education is a
beneficent one. Its code of morality is essentially that of
utility, but it restricts that code too much to personal and
immediate relations. The utilitarian doctrine teaches that in
considering the effect of our acts upon happiness we must con
sider the remote as well as the immediate effects. The Golden
Rule is as applicable as between one nation and another, or one
generation and another, as it is between one man and another.
To teach men to do unto others as they would that others would
do unto them is not sufficient. Unless our view of the nature of
right is at fault, it is equally obligatory that we, as a nation, do
unto other nations as we would that other nations do unto us,
and that we, as a generation, do unto our posterity as we would
that our ancestors had done unto theirs. This latter extension
of the Golden Rule is the most important of all; for the in
terests of posterity are immeasurably greater than those of any
single generation and those interests are largely in our hands.
Thus, as a factor in education, the church, so long as it confines
itself to the teaching of morality and the inculcation of habitual
altruism, is an immensely useful influence. The effect upon
education of its theological teaching is precisely the reverse. In
the first seventeen centuries of the Christian Era the influence
of theology was probably the most baneful influence to which
humanity was subject. The period of complete theological
control is universally denominated the Dark Ages. Despite the
most powerful opposition of the church — an opposition whose
instruments were the thumb-screw, the rack, and the stake —
science broke the bonds of intellectual slavery which had kept a
world in darkness and created modern civilization, and in so
doing converted the church from a harmful into a useful in
stitution. This was accomplished by the progressive elimina
tion of theology, beginning at the time of the Reformation, and
16

242 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [BOOK II

continuing to the present day. When the cosmological system
of the church has been completely eliminated, and her moral
system extended so as to apply to sentiency present and future,
the task of science in this direction will have been completed.
In our country the first part of this task is almost done. With
an exception hereafter to be noticed, theological dogmas are all
but innocuous. The belief in them has lapsed into little more
than a meaningless form. Men in our day instead of believing
a creed merely approve a formula; assenting not to the truth,
but to the sound, of propositions.

But if the work of science in dispelling theological dogmas is
almost done, its work in dispelling political dogmas has little
more than begun. As theological dogma kept the ancient
world in intellectual bondage, political dogma keeps the modern
world in industrial bondage. The overthrow of political dogma,
however, will be much more rapid than was that of theological
dogma. With the advance of education, common sense has
infected the people too deeply. Dogmatism may seem rampant
now, but it is mild compared with what it was once. Neverthe
less the advance of civilization and the vastly increased power
of supporting population which the earth in consequence affords
makes the dogmatism of to-day dangerous in the highest degree.
We shall make this plainer in a later chapter. For the present
it is sufficient to assert that education has no function so im
portant in the modem world as to free the minds of men from
dogma. Yet dogma is itself the product of education; for
education, like inheritance, may be applied to diminish, as' well
as ^to increase, efficiency. As inheritance may result in de
terioration as well as in advancement, so education mav be
adapted to darken the mind as well as to enlighten it. Super
stition no less than knowledge may be a product of education
In a discussion of education then, as a factor of efficiency, no
more essential task may be undertaken than that of distin^uish-
mg between common sense and dogmatism. In order to do this
however, we must first know the nature of common sense We
have in Book I revealed it, and we shall therefore have little
difficulty in distinguishing it from that of dogmatism While in
the discussion to follow I shall refer specifically to dogmatism it
should not be forgotten that my remarks apply almost equally
well to mtuitionism in general. Proteromania' is not the only
though it is the usual, cause of mtuitionism. Pathomania, and
even unadulterated logomania, are also occasional causes.

CHAP. VI] FIKST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 243

In our consideration of the nature of truth and of right, it
appeared that judgments might conveniently be classified as
follows :

(a) Peithosyllogisms.
(!) ( (b) Other judgments.

J^gments (c) Chresyllogisms.

(d) Other judgments.

Furthermore we found it convenient to have words which
would distinguish judgments of class (a) from those of class (b),
and of class (c) from class (d). Hence judgments of classes
(a) and (c) we denominated correct judgments; those of
classes (b) and (d) we denominated incorrect or erroneous
judgments. We asserted further that judgments of classes (a)
and (c) were those generally applied by men, and even by
animals, to their common affairs — to those matters with which
experience made them most familiar, such as eating, going from
place to place, avoiding danger, and gratifying their desires;
and that they were independent of time and place, common to
men in all parts of the world, and in all periods of history,
employed alike by the American, the Chinaman, or the South
Sea Islander, by the man of the Palaeolithic Age, the ancient
Egyptian and the modern European. Hence to judgments of
these classes we deemed the name common sense judgments ap
propriate, since they are the only kinds of judgments common
to all men. Indeed, should a community suddenly be called
into being which, in those matters affecting their very ex
istence, employed judgments of classes (b) and (d) they would
speedily become extinct. Common sense in these matters is
essential to existence. Happiness, however, is not essential to
existence. Hence men, though employing common sense
sufficiently to exist, may fail to employ it sufficiently to exist
happily. It is this failure which an analysis of common sense
should permit us to avoid.

The mind of a child has been compared to a blank sheet of
paper upon which may be written whatever those who have
access to the mind care to write and the chances are that what
is there first written will remain indelible, provided it is not
something which the most immediate experience will rub out, A
child's mind is " wax to receive and marble to retain." Should
we attempt to record there that fire will not burn or that
water is not wet the record would not long survive ; but should

244 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAET I [BOOK II

we record that the sound of thunder is due to the impact of
Thor's hammer, or that whatever a certain book says is true, or
that the earth is flat, or that the moon is made of green cheese,
it would become a matter of difficulty in later life to eradicate
these impressions, and in many minds it would be impossible,
however overwhelming the evidence to the contrary. Of course,
such impressions are not usually made by one communication — •
by a single assertion of a proposition — but by much reitera
tion, and by surrounding the growing child with people who
continually echo the beliefs or sentiments which it is desired to
record. Occasionally we encounter minds so dogmatic that one
communication will make an ineradicable impression. We
are all familiar with the man or woman who, having heard
casually that snakes sting with their tails, or that Bacon wrote
Shakespeare, or that Patagonians are ten feet high, will main
tain the proposition with a confidence which in persons of ordi
narily open mind would only be born of much experience or
much reiteration.

Now what is the1 cause of this peculiar and vital character
istic of human nature? It is because beliefs, like other bodily
and mental acts, are matters of habit and subject to the laws
of habit. No one, perhaps, has discussed the psychology of this
subject with more lucidity and thoroughness than Professor
William James, and from his discussion the cause we are seekin^
will be, in detail, revealed. His fundamental proposition is
"that the phenomena of habit in living beings are due to the
plasticity of the organic materials of which their bodies are
composed." Proceeding, he says :

" But the philosophy of habit is thus in the first instance, a
chapter in physics rather than in physiology or psychology. That
it is at bottom a physical principle is admitted by all good recent
writers on the subject. They call attention to analogues of
acquired habits exhibited by dead matter. Thus, M. Leon Dumont,
whose essay on habit is perhaps the most philosophical account
yet published, writes:

Every one knows how a garment after having been worn a
certain time, clings to the shape of the body better than when it
was new; there has been a change in the tissue, and this change
is a new habit of cohesion. A lock works better after being used
some time; at the outset more force was required to overcome
certain roughnesses in the mechanism. The overcoming of their
resistance is a phenomenon of habituation. It costs less trouble
to fold a paper when it has been folded already. This saving of
trouble is due to the essential nature of habit, which brings it

CHAP. VI] FIRST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 245

about that to reproduce the effect, a less amount of the outward
cause is required. The sounds of a violin improve by use in the
hands of an able artist, because the fibres of the wood at last
contract habits of vibration conformed to harmonic relations.
This is what gives such inestimable value to instruments that have
belonged to great masters. Water, in flowing, hollows out for itself
a channel, which grows broader and deeper, and, after having
ceased to flow, it resumes, when it flows again, the path traced by
itself before. Just so, the impressions of outer objects fashion for
themselves in the nervous system more and more appropriate paths,
and these vital phenomena recur under similar excitements from
without, when they have been interrupted a certain time.' . . .
" Can we now form a notion of what the inward physical changes
may be like, in organs whose habits have thus struck into new
paths ? In other words, can we say just what mechanical facts the
expression ' change of habit ' covers when it is applied to a nervous
system ? Certainly we cannot in anything like a ^ minute _ or
definite way. But our usual scientific custom of interpreting
hidden molecular events after the analogy of visible massive ones
enables us to frame easily an abstract and general scheme of
processes which the physical changes in question may be like.
And when once the possibility of some kind of mechanical inter
pretation is established, Mechanical Science, in her present mood,
will not hesitate to set her brand of ownership upon the matter,
feeling sure that it is only a question of time when the exact
mechanical explanation of the case shall be found out.

"If habits are due to the plasticity of materials to outward
agents, we can immediately see to what outward influences, if to
any, the brain-matter is plastic. Not to mechanical pressures, not
to thermal changes, not to any of the forces to which all the other
organs of our body are exposed ; for nature has carefully shut up
our brain and spinal cord in bony boxes, where no influences of
this sort can get at them. She has floated them in fluid so that
only the severest shocks can give them a concussion, and blanketed
and wrapped them about in an altogether exceptional way. The
only impressions that can be made upon them are through the
blood, on the one hand, and through the sensory nerve-roots, on
the other ; and it is to the infinitely attenuated currents that pour
in through these latter channels that the hemispherical cortex
shows itself to be so peculiarly susceptible. The currents, once in,
must find a way out. In getting out, they leave their traces in
the paths which they take. The only thing they can do in short,
is to deepen old paths or to make new ones; and the whole
plasticity of the brain sums itself up in two words when we call
it an organ in which currents pouring in from the sense-organs
make with extreme facility paths which do not easily disappear.
For, of course, a simple habit, like every other nervous event — the
habit of snuffling, for example, or of putting one's hands into one's

246 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT I [BOOK II

pockets, or of biting1 one's nails — is, mechanically, nothing but
a reflex discharge; and its anatomical substratum must be a path
in the system. . . .

" For the entire nervous system is nothing but a system of paths
between a sensory terminus a quo and a muscular, glandular, or
other terminus ad quern-. A path once traversed by a nerve-cur
rent might be expected to follow the law of most of the paths we
know, and to be scooped out and made more permeable than before ;
and this ought to be repeated with each new passage of the cur
rent. Whatever obstructions may have kept it at first from being
a path should then, little by little, and more and more, be swept
out of the way, until at last it might become a natural drainage-
channel. This is what happens where either solids or liquids pass
over a path ; there seems no reason why it should not happen where
the thing that passes is a mere wave of rearrangement in matter
(hat does not displace itself, but merely changes chemically or
turns itself around in place, or vibrates across the line. The
most plausible view of the nerve-current makes it out to be the
passage of some such wave of rearrangement as this. If only a
part of the matter of the path were to ' rearrange ' itself, the neigh
boring parts remaining inert, it is easy to see how their inertness
might oppose a friction which it would take many waves of rear
rangement to break down and overcome. If we call the path
itself the ' organ,' and the wave of rearrangement the ' function/
then it is obviously a case for repeating the celebrated French
formula of ' La fonction fait I'organe'

" So nothing is easier than to imagine how, when a current once
has traversed a path, it should traverse it more readily still a
second time." 1

Here, then, we have the origin of dogma. Suppose to a
person — call him X — whose brain is plastic, we utter the
proposition — A is B. If prior to hearing this utterance X
has entertained no expectations about the relation of A to B, a
path of nervous discharge will be improvised within his brain
corresponding to the expectation A is B. If the proposition is
repeated often in X's presence this path will be deepened, and
the ^ease with which subsequent discharges therethrough take
place will be increased. After the path has been once es
tablished, suppose X is informed that A is not B. What
happens? The expectation which relates A to B has taken a
path which we may call the is or affirmative path — hence
conforming to the law of habit, it will continue to take the
path. That is, a person in whose brain the expectation A is B

i Principles of Psychology, Vol. 1, pp 105-109,,

CIIAI-. VI] FIRST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 247

has once been thoroughly registered will refuse to accept the
proposition A is not B. 'The reasonableness of the proposition
will not affect the matter, because the channel connecting A and
B has been established on the is circuit, and if it has been
sufficiently deepened no other channel can thereafter be estab
lished connecting A and B.

It is a fact worthy of meditation that the circuits of nervous
discharge established in the minds of men by means other than
those of common sense are the greatest obstacles to their happi
ness. More difficult to combat than the physical barriers which
nature opposes to its progress, these insidious enemies of the
race continually sway society from one course of folly to another.
Many, if not most, of the horrors of history have arisen — not
from any necessary obstacles encountered in the external and
inanimate world — but from imperfections in the constitution _ of
men's cerebral tissues, which, structurally considered, are in
significant. The greatest foe of man is, in fact, located in the
nerve substance of his brain; and the emancipation of the race
from misery can be achieved only by overcoming an enemy thus
entrenched in the very structure of its victim's nervous system.
The tissues of the brain, which in youth are plastic and
easily moulded, progressively harden as age advances, like the
other tissues of the body. As the brain hardens the impressions
which have been made upon it in youth, whatever they are, tend
to become fixed and with difficulty alterable. The process may
be compared to the hardening or setting of cement, which when
freshly mixed is plastic and easily moulded to any form desired,
but which gradually hardens, losing its plasticity and congealing
into an unalterable rock-like mass the form impressed upon it
while plastic. To this may be traced the extraordinary prevalence
of dogma in old persons. 'The progressive loss of plasticity by the
brain, and hence by the mind, causes convictions once enter
tained to become ineradicable. Indeed, the original impressions
may be so deep and the hardening process so complete, as to give
rise to local ineradicable intuitions, indistinguishable from uni
versal ineradicable intuitions, or laws of thought. Almost any
piece of nonsense may be converted into a local intuition by
early and persistent inculcation.

But if the fortuitous establishment and fixation of discharge
channels accounts for dogmatism, what accounts for common
sense? A slight inspection will reveal it. Dogmatism, as we
have seen, is generally derived from testimony; but observation
can generate expectations as well as testimony, and when it

248 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT I [BOOK II

does so, it generates them in conformity with the laws of induc
tion already discussed The reason for this we may plausibly
seek in the theory of natural selection discussed in Chapter 11.
The higher animals being exposed to a much greater variety of
environmental conditions than the lower, a much wider variation
in the mode of reacting, so as to adjust themselves to those con
ditions, is required of them. If a nervous structure capable of
making such variable response is not developed the animals
perish, because they are unable to adapt their means to the end
of preserving their life. Hence only those survive in which the
appropriate nervous structure is developed. Now expectations
generate actions, and any nervous structure which generates
expectations from experience in any other manner than that
formulated in our discussion of induction will fail to make
the resulting actions appropriate to the maintenance of life.
Hence, in the essential details of life, the inductive method is
followed, and the paths of nervous discharge determined by
common sense alone are those which have been built into the
nervous structure of the higher animals by the process of natural
selection. Hence they are not fortuitous, but derived from uni
versal experience: not by the actual inheritance of experience,
but by the survival of those organisms alone which developed
nervous structures adapted to profit by it in the degree required
for survival.

In its primitive form the process of adapting an animal's
means to its ends is purely automatic — a mere reflex action.
It _ is then known as instinct. In the higher animals, and con
spicuously in man, instinct develops into voluntary adaptation
based upon expectations generated by experience. It is then
called reasoning. If the common processes by which experience
generates expectations are analyzed they will be found to con
sist of the inductive and deductive operations expounded in
Chapter 2, the mathematical expression of which is a peithosyl-
logism, and the necessary foundations of which are three uni
versal intuitions, viz., the law of contradiction, and the two
inductive postulates — those of existence, and of the uniformity
of nature. Analysis of the common operation by which ex
pectations generate voluntary acts leads to the discovery of the
chresyllogism, the application of which to the determination of
the presumption of happiness of alternative acts results in the
theory of utility. The nature of the sensations of pleasure and
pain themselves, as well as our inability to discover any one spe
cifiable distribution of those sensations in space or time of more

CHAP. VI] FIKST FACTOK OF HAPPINESS 249

significance to sentient creation than any other, leads to the
discovery of the principle of preference and the dilemma of dis
tribution as the only foundations of a consistent application of
a chresyllogism ; that is, any other foundations would substitute
local for universal considerations, and thus lead to inconsistency.
Hence utilitarianism is the common sense system of morals,
founded as it is upon the only consistent application of the
common operations of the mind to the conduct of moral beings.

Why nature, whenever she produces beings capable of adapt
ing means to ends, always requires of them the same mental
operations we cannot tell, nor can we tell why no other opera
tions can lead to knowledge. It is all a part of that profoundly
significant unity of creation which excites our curiosity without
satisfying it. All we can say is that the common mind revealed
to us as the universe, is so constituted that through these com
mon processes, and apparently through no others, it is able to
comprehend, and may eventually direct, itself. What agencies
sentient nature may succeed in creating through which to
achieve her end — which can scarcely be other than universal
happiness — we do not know ; but if we assume that man, how
ever feeble his present powers, is destined to become such an
agent, then it is his obvious duty ceaselessly to seek said end by
means of that common sense with which nature through her in
scrutable operations has endowed every moral being, and in the
absence of which all seeking is in vain.

The examination we have made of the origin of judgments
derived from common sense and from dogma respectively, re
veals the universal distinction between the two. The first de
rive their authority from the original structure or constitution
of the mind — the second from its previous history. The first
owe their acceptance to their reasonableness — the second to
their priority. The first are functions of previous history at
all, because the rational faculty can pronounce judgment only
on such experience as is brought to its attention, and this varies
in each individual. Otherwise it is independent of previous
history. The second depends upon memory alone and is inde
pendent of the rational faculty. Hence a dogma can only be
valid by accident.

If, as we infer, the inductive method of arriving at judgments
results from the constitution of the mind, while the dogmatic
method results from its previous history, we should expect to
find the first method universal and inheritable, the second local
and uninheritable ; and this is precisely what we do find. As

250 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT I [BOOK II

already noticed, sentient beings in all parts of the earth and in
all periods of history use,, and have used., the method of common
sense in their daily life. An animal left to himself spontane
ously adopts it in controlling his acts. It does not have to be
acquired, and in fact, so far as it applies to the most essential
affairs of life, it cannot be eradicated by education. Hence it
is not only universal but inheritable, i. e., independent of edu
cation. That dogmas are local is, on the other hand, a matter
of familiar observation. Each locality, each period of history,
has its own dogmas; those peculiar to a given place at a given
time being determined by various accidents, for it is as true of
communities as of individuals, that their dogmas are due to
their previous history. Moreover, dogmas are uninheritable.
A child assumes the opinions and customs of the community
in which he is brought up ; not those cherished and practised
by his ancestors, unless indeed they happen to be the same. A
Christian child, if brought up by Mohammedans, will be a Mo
hammedan, if by Buddhists, a Buddhist, etc. The dogmas of
his ancestors, being acquired characters, are not transmitted,
nor is there even a tendency to their transmission. No dog
matic sect which fails to provide means of establishing the
appropriate discharge channels in the brains of each generation
as it arises can long maintain itself. This precaution once
taken, any sect, whether its doctrines be true, false, good, bad, or
indifferent, may be indefinitely maintained through the laws of
mental habit.

From these considerations it is perhaps clearer why conscience
as an arbiter of right and wrong is of no value. "That which
the conscience of a given individual approves or disapproves is
determined by his previous history: this in turn is usually de
termined by the previous history of the community of which he is
a member, for it is the approval or disapproval common to his
community or some part of it which, in general, determines his.
Hence to leave the determination of right and wrong to con
science is to leave it to the accidents of history. As Montaigne
remarks: "The laws of conscience, which we pretend to be
derived from nature, proceed from custom/' Two thousand
years ago the same observation was made by Herodotus :

" If any one should propose to all men to select the best institu
tions of all that exist, each, after considering them all, would
choose their own ; so certain is it that each thinks his own institu
tions by far the best. . . . That all men are of this mind

CHAP. VI] FIRST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 251

respecting their own institutions may be inferred from many and
various proofs, and among them by the following. Darius having
summoned some 'Greeks under his sway, who were present, asked
them l for what sum they would feed upon the dead bodies of their
parents.' They answered that they would not do it for any sum.
Darius afterward having summoned some of the Indians called
Callatians, who are accustomed to eat their parents, asked them,
in the presence of the Greeks, and who were informed of what was
said by an interpreter, * for .what sum they would consent to burn
their fathers when they die ' ; but they, making loud exclamations,
begged he would speak words of good omen. Such, then, is the
effect of custom; and Pindar appears to me to have said rightly,
' That custom is the king of all men ' " *

The discussion in Chapter 4 of the dogmatic standards suf
fices to show that in political affairs custom is to-day as much
the "king of all men" as in the days of Pindar. Protero-
mania is as universal as the laws of habit which cause it.

The real relation of that which is conscientious to that which
is right or to that which is useful is now obvious. Conscience,
when it has any use at all, is merely a means of increasing the
surplus of happiness. It is a kind of habit fostered in youth,
a predisposition to conform to the precepts of some particular
code of morals. Whether it is useful or not will de-pend upon
the code of morals. A conscientious act may or may not be a
right act. The Thugs in strangling their victims, the officers of
the Inquisition in burning heretics, Charles IX in ordering the
massacre of St. Bartholomew, were probably committing con
scientious acts, but were they for that reason right acts? If so,
to assert that any given act 'is right may be true, but it will not
be interesting. We are, in fact, entitled to an answer to the
inquiry — What acts ought conscience to approve and what acts
ought it not to approve? In the definitions of right and wrong
heretofore given we have the means of supplying an answer to
that inquiry, and at the same time of affording an explanation
of the fact (noted on page 120) that the distinction between acts
which should be, and those which should not be committed,
when said acts affect the interests of him who commits them
only, carries with it no notion of moral obligation fulfilled or
violated. As has been more than once remarked, the all but
universal impulse of organisms, including man, is to act ego
tistically. But the difference between right acts and wrong ones
is not a difference concerned with one individual, but with all

i Thalia.

252

TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT I [BOOK II

individuals whom any of the alternatives possible may affect.
Therefore to induce an individual who is a member of society
to do right, we must emphasize his duty to others, since the
emphasis' of his impulses is upon his duty to himself. Moral
precepts do not need to emphasize a man's duty to himself —
self-interest can be trusted to take care of that — and as moral
obligations are associated with, or imposed by, moral precepts,
they become associated only with the distinction between right
and wrong as it concern others, and the distinction between
what should be and what should not be done, when a man's acts
concern himself alone therefore, carries with it no sense of moral
obligation fulfilled or violated.

Suppose, however, that we should found a code of morality
on the utilitarian doctrine. Such a code would embody but
one universal precept : " Do that which presumably will result
in the greatest surplus of happiness." Should a community
adopt this as its code, and train the conscience of youth to con
form to it, then a right act would always be a conscientious act,
a wrong act an unconscientious one. On the other hand,
should a code of morality be embodied in the precept " Do that
which presumably will result in the greatest surplus of un-
happiness " — a conscientious act would always be a wrong act,
and it would only be an unconscientious act which could by any
possibility be right. According as a code of morality tends to
approximate to the utilitarian code, conscience will be desirable
and the more conscientious people are, the better: according as
it approximates to the anti-utilitarian code, conscience will be
undesirable, and the less conscientious people are, the better.
Most, and probably all, codes of morality approximate more or
less closely to the utilitarian, and the Christian code as em
bodied in the Golden Rule expresses the utilitarian code in lan
guage adapted to the comprehension of the untutored mind.
Therefore, conscience has come to be confounded with the end
which it is the principal purpose of conscience to promote.
Conscience is, in fact, a test of character and not of conduct.
The conscientiousness or unconscientiousness of an act is a
function of him who commits it only. Its Tightness or wrong-
ness is a function of its total effect on pleasure and pain. An
individual completely isolated from other sentient beings, one
whose acts could affect none but himself, would, according to our
definition, be doing right only when he acted egotistically; it
would be his duty to be as happy as possible, since only by so do
ing could he increase the total surplus of happiness. It is solely

CHAP. VI] FIKST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 253

because his acts affect the happiness of other beings that man
should ever be called upon to deny himself; for it is obvious
that if he sought the interests of himself alone, he would only
too often increase his own happiness at the cost of that of others,
and if in so doing he diminished the happiness of others by an
amount greater than that by which he increased his own, he
would be committing a wrong act — provided, of course, that
he was not forced to do so by lack of better alternatives.

The theory herein criticized, that right and wrong may be
distinguished by a moral faculty or conscience, I have called
intuitionism. Bentham calls it the theory of sympathy and an
tipathy, and comments upon it thus:

" By the principle of sympathy and antipathy, I mean that prin
ciple which approves of or disapproves of certain actions, not on
account of their tending to augment the happiness, nor yet on
account of their tending to diminish the happiness of the party
whose interest is in question, but merely because a man finds him
self disposed to approve or disapprove of them: holding up that
approbation or disapprobation as a sufficient reason for itself, and
disclaiming the necessity of looking out for any extrinsic ground.
Thus far in the general department of morals: and in the par
ticular department of politics, measuring out the quantum (as
well as determining the ground ) of punishment, by the degree of
the disapprobation.

" It is manifest, that this is rather a principle in name than
in reality: it is not a positive principle of itself, so much as a
term employed to signify the negation of all principle. What one
expects to find in a principle is something that ^ points out some
external consideration, as a means of warranting and^ guiding
the internal sentiments of approbation and disapprobation : ^ this
expectation is but ill fulfilled by a proposition, which does neither
more nor less than hold up each of those sentiments as a ground
and standard for itself.

" In looking over the catalogue of human actions (says a par-
tizan of this principle) in order to determine which of them are
to be marked with the seal of disapprobation, you need but to
take counsel of your own feelings: whatever you find in yourself
a propensity to condemn, is wrong for that very reason. For the
same reason it is also meet for punishment: in what proportion
it is adverse to utility, or whether it be adverse to utility at all,
is a matter that makes no difference. In that same proportion
also it is meet for punishment: if you hate much, punish much:
if you hate little, punish little : punish as you hate. If you hate
not at all. punish not at all : the fine feelings of the soul are not
to be overborne and tyrannized by the harsh and rugged dictates
of political utility.

254 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAET I [BOOK II

" The various systems that have been formed concerning the
standard of right and wrong, may all be reduced to the principle
of sympathy and antipathy. One account may serve for all of
them. They consist all of them in so many contrivances for
avoiding the obligation of appealing to any external standard, and
for prevailing upon the reader to accept of the author's sentiment
or_ opinion as a reason for itself. The phrases different, but the
principle the same." *

Tn these words, penned more than a century ago Bentham
exposed the folly of intuitiomsm. That an exposure so clear
should have been ignored by later writers shows that the human
mind finds it as difficult to comprehend that which is too simple
as that which is too complex, for nothing can be simpler than
the universal moral fallacy here referred to; yet there is no
evidence that its significance is anywhere comprehended Hence
I deem it wise at this point to essay the task of discussing more
fully a matter so vital. I believe nothing more worthy of
comprehension can be suggested to human beings in the present
condition of their mental habits. Certainlv nothin°- so im
portant is treated in this work. Let us attempt then* to make
it even plainer than Bentham made it.

Human acts may be classified in an indefinite number of
wave, lo two of these ways I desire to call attention First
they may be divided into (a) Those which are approved by a
given individual or individuals, (b) Those which are not
Second, they may be divided into (c) Those which at the time
their commission afford the maximum presumption of happi
ness, (d) Those which do not. The first distinction is that
which in uitionism expresses by means of the words right and
wrong. The second is that which utilitarianism expresses by
the same words Let us examine the intuitional distinction
We have already shown that an individual's or a community'*
approval and disapproval is not a test of anything but the influ
ences to which his or its mind happened to be exposed during
he period of plasticity; hence it is valueless as a test of any?
hing worthy to be a guide to conduct. Moreover, if i'norrn,
this fact, we attempt to make approval the test of rX and
disapproval the test of wrong, we are led into a contradiction
because if approval is the test of right, then anything which is
approved must be right, since it meets the test of right, but the
same acts that are approved by some individuals" are disap!
i Principles of Morals and Legislation.

CHAP. VI] FIRST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 255

proved by others. Hence some acts must be both right and
wrong since they meet both tests, and as wrong acts are of the
class not right acts, it follows that some acts are both right and
not right — that what is, is not. To this contradiction as the
first horn of the dilemma, or to the use of the terms right and
wrong in an emasculated and inconsequential meaning as the
second, every intuitionist is forced. If he attempts to escape the
first horn by maintaining that approval and disapproval consti
tute right and wrong respectively, he is impaled upon the second,
and finds himself proposing an immaterial distinction in ex
perience as a guide to conduct. If he attempts to escape the
second horn by maintaining that approval and disapproval are
the tests of right and wrong respectively, he is impaled upon the
first, and finds himself uttering a contradiction. We may call
this the Dilemma of Intuitionism. As Bentham says, every
moral code which has ever been proposed, with the exception of
utilitarianism, is intuitional, the difference being one of phrase
ology alone; for however much men may refer their moral
precepts to this or that authority, natural or supernatural, their
own approval thereof is the real test, as is made evident by the
fact that they promptly reject any precept which they disapprove.
This is notoriously true of all theological systems, in which the
approval of God is obviously governed by that of man, although
the imputation is the reverse. In the progress of Christendom
from barbarism, for example, men never discovered that God dis
approved a practice until after the discovery that it met with their
own disapproval. Nor are those who, rejecting all supernatural
authority, seek to formulate a code of morals upon some local
intuitive principle, in any better position, since in the end they
can only succeed in classifying their own approbations and dis
approbations.

It is commonly supposed that the dilemma of intuitionism
may be escaped 'by the use of various sophists' companions.
Among those much used for this purpose are the terms " abso
lute right" and "relative right," with meanings apparently
about equivalent to " absolute x " and " relative x." The argu
ments based upon this supposed distinction are purely verbal.
Another familiar mode of escaping the dilemma is through the
contention that approval is not the test of right (sometimes
the term " absolute right " is used here) but is the test of what
each individual believes to be right. Even were such a truism
pertinent it would contribute nothing to the solution of the
difficulty, since " what a person believes to be right " is a phrase

256 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [ BOOK II

exactly equivalent in meaning to "what a person approves/5
Obviously then, everyone must approve what he believes to be
right, because he must approve what he approves.

If now we turn to the distinction in experience which the
utilitarian expresses by the words right and wrong, we see at
once that the terms so applied, at any rate, are not emasculated
About the importance of the distinction there can be no ques
tion. But can we give a reason why this distinction should be
made the basis of a guide to conduct? No we cannot; but it is
clear that it would be equally impossible to give a reason why
any distinction suggestible should be a guide, since without first
stabhshmg some distinction as the foundation of a guide to
conduct, a reason for doing anything does not exist. Without
such a foundation the word reason, as applied to an act, is mean
ingless If we consider the related case of the foundation of
logic this will become clear. We cannot give any reason for
making the principle of the uniformity of nature ' the founda
tion of inductive logic. Other foundations are proposable and
they might be adopted as guides to expectation. If a direct
appeal to experience does not convince a man that a useful sys
tem of inductive logic requires the postulate of the uniformity
ol nature, there is certainly no way of provino- that it does
since the postulate would be the foundation of the proof; and
this difficulty would be encountered whatever postulate was
made. Similarly, no reason why the utilitarian classification of
human acts should be made the foundation of morals can be

whT' W™ ,be, drst like tr-yin- to ^ve a reason whv
what is is. That which prompts us to make it the foundation
of morality may, however, be discovered by an operation no more
complex than an examination of our own minds, an operation
which if executed without prejudice will convince us that an
act which ^gives no being pleasure and saves no being pain, di
rectly or indirectly, immediately or remotelv, is of no interest
to sentient beings, now or hereafter; but why li is of no interest
would be at once impossible and unnecessary to explain

tarianTsmCTy ^ ^ ^ ^^ ^ *™* °f suPPosin£ ^at utili-
mism is itself but one disguise for intuitionism, the notion

the very common and natural approval of pleas
ure ™ddisapprol of ^ ^ ^ ^1 lf P _ eaA

glance at the contrasted distinctions on pa-e 254 however will

ispel this mistake. The two bases of classification there' enu-

thpnfi a-6 ^^y independent and either could exist were

' other incapable of existence. If, like some ascetics, every!

CHAP. VI] FIRST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 25T

one disapproved pleasure and approved pain, it would not alter
the importance of the utilitarian distinction in the slightest
degree. It is because pleasure and pain are what they are, not
because they are approved or disapproved, that the distinction
is one of consequence.

It would be perfectly possible to divide human acts into (1)
Those which presumably result in the maximum production of
sawdust. (2) Those which do not: to na*ie the first class of
acts right, and the second class wrong — and upon the distinc
tion thus made to propose the foundation of a system of morals.
Such a foundation would result in neither an intuitional nor
a utilitarian system, but in a sawdust system. It would be of
little interest to sentient beings, yet history records many intu
itional codes of morals, or portions thereof, having no more
utility in them than a sawdust code — indeed the immoral
codes of asceticism have less.

^ Although an indefinite number of alternatives to both intu-
itionism and utilitarianism might be suggested, it happens that
none ever has been. Hence we may say that at present utili
tarianism is the only alternative to intuitionism and between the
two every man may take his choice. It scarcely seems possible
that any one who values his own influence upon the sentient
world which surrounds him can accept intuitionism when once
its real nature has been revealed.

But if we do not admit that approval and disapproval deter
mine right and wrong, we must be prepared to find certain
right acts which we disapprove and certain wrong ones which
we approve, for, as our approval and disapproval has been
largely determined by the accidents of history, it would indeed
be extraordinary if we alone among the millions of mankind
had escaped all taint of the dogmatic sanction. Are we not
continually condemning our fellow men for disapproving the
right or approving the wrong ? If we are merely calling atten
tion to the fact that they happen to approve what we happen to
disapprove, the matter is of slight consequence. If we are calling
attention to anything more than this, then we cannot expect to
escape a defect so prevalent as that of approving wrong and dis
approving right. Hence, not only should we expect to find that
we have this defect, but should be suspicious of ourselves if we
find that we have not, since, if that which meets our approval
coincides completely with that which is right, it is clear that
it has come about through our confounding of the two ideas.
If not, how comes it that the coincidence is complete?

258 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS -PART I [BooK II

The fact is that their own approval and disapproval is all
that men generally have in mind when they speak of right and
wrong Yet should we ask a man if he conld give a reason why
a particular act, a lie for instance, is wrong, he would feel
confident that he could. He would say that a particular lie
is wrong because all lies are wrong; but this is clearly not a
reason- it is merely asserting that he disapproves each act ot a
class of acts which he disapproves. Should he say it is wrong
because it is generally or universally conceded to be so he
would still not be citing a reason, since he would but be substi
tuting as a criterion the disapproval of several persons lor the
disapproval of one. He would but appeal from conscience to
custom. There is an element of strangeness that in an ag3 so
enlightened as ours the most vital of all man's interests should
thus be determined so largely by the merest accident. We ac
cept the prevailing code of morals as we accept the prevailing
mode of dress — because it happens to prevail. We reject the
code of morals of ancient Greece as we reject its costume — be
cause it does not happen to prevail. Fashion, to paraphrase
Saxe, "shapes alike our consciences and coats." Why do we
look with horror and protest on a bull fight in which a few ani
mals are made to suffer for an hour or two, while we look with
complacence and resignation on a system, and a preventable
system, by which millions of human beings pass their lives m
toil and misery and want, in order that the few _ in spending
what the many have earned, may add novelty to their indulgence
and perhaps variety to their vice? The answer is easy to give.
It is because we are not accustomed to the one, and we are to
the other. It is customary to condemn the one and condone the
other. This is enough for the dogmatist. ^ A bull fight is wrong.
The preventable perpetuation of poverty is not.

Nor is the fundamental error as to the foundation of morality
implied in the theory of sympathy and antipathy confined to the
unthinking part of the community. With the single exception
of -Bentham, every prominent writer on ethics, so far as I know,
has fallen into it. If we observe the process they employ, we
shall find that they systematically exclude from the class of right
acts all acts which they disapprove, and from that of wrong acts
all those which they approve, without inquiring as to the origin
of the approval and disapproval. To thus bring all acts to the
test of their approval is to beg the whole question and assume
the very criterion which they profess to seel:. No wonder they
have made no progress in two thousand years. They will make

CHAP. VI] FIRST FACTOR Otf HAPPINESS 250

no progress in two thousand or twenty thousand years more
unless they are prepared to say to themselves : " I, like my fel
lows, owe many of my beliefs, preferences, and antipathies to
my education. My education is determined by the previous
history of the community in which I was brought up and is a
function of the accidents thereof. Eight and wrong are not
functions of the previous history of any community. There
fore, I must expect to find among right acts some which are
repugnant to me and which I disapprove and among wrong
acts some which attract me and which I approve. If I reject
the approval and disapproval of others as a guide to conduct, I
must, to be consistent, reject my own." This impartial and
reasonable attitude of mind must be assumed before men can
advance one step toward the solution of the ethical problem;
for right and wrong cannot be determined by what this or that
individual, or assemblage of individuals, approves or disapproves
— but by what Justice, who has no local sympathies or antip
athies, would approve or disapprove. It is clearly absurd
to test right and wrong by our approval and disapproval.
We should reverse the process — first ascertain the difference
between right and wrong, and then test our approval and dis
approval by it. Let us not make conscience our guide to right
and wrong. Let us make right and wrong our guide to con
science. We may then follow its behests without fear that our
acts are controlled by the accidents of our education.

Now there is but one thing which all sentient beings in all
times have desired, and will always desire, to secure — and that
is happiness — and there is but one thing which they as univer
sally desire, and will desire, to avoid — and that is unhappiness.
Hence to strive for anything except securing the one and avoid
ing the other as an ultimate end, is to strive for what tran
sient and local influences alone have caused us to approve.
The difference between all other proposable ends and that of
utility is the difference between a passing and a permanent
ideal. To seek to establish among men the approval of any act
which has no relation to happiness as an end, is to seek the
approval of that which will no more meet with the interest or
approval of our posterity than the Callatian obligation of eating
our sires meets with ours. But could we establish the ideal
of increasing the totality of happiness irrespective of its distri
bution in space or time, we could be sure that our efforts would
have no mere passing effects, but would be of interest to sen
tient beings so long as pleasure and pain remain perceptible.

260 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [BOOK II

Custom to-day is in undisputed control of morality, but this
cannot always continue. Common sense, which has already
conquered so many of the domains of dogma, will conquer that
of morals. Education, which is the cause of this universal
moral disease, will also be its cure.

Though most conspicuous in moral issues, intuitionism is by
no means confined to thorn. It is as common for men to test
truth and untruth by their belief and disbelief as to test right
and wrong by their approval and disapproval. Such an inversion
of common sense though extremely injurious in the domain of
logic is even more injurious in that of ethics, because of its
more immediate relation to conduct.

It has often been observed and deplored that our civilization
is a material one — that it does not extend to many of the
affairs upon which the welfare of men most conspicuously de
pends. If the various domains of knowledge whose advancement
has undeniably produced civilization be examined, it will be
found that they are those in which the inductive method has
displaced the dogmatic, and the advancement is, in general pro
portional to the degree of this displacement. It is in the knowl
edge of material things that the inductive method has most
completely dispossessed the dogmatic, and hence it i* in such
domains that knowledge has advanced. Civilization being the
product of science has therefore advanced most conspicuously
upon materialistic lines. During the reign of do^ia, which was
undisputed during the Dark Ages, civilization was dormant
When the inductive method shall have completely dispossessed
the dogmatic in all domains of knowledge and conduct as we
have reason to hope that in a generation or two it will do civ
ilization will cease to be materialistic only, and our knowledge
of the moral world, and the policies founded upon that knowl
edge will leap forward with the same freedom as that which
the stimulus of the inductive method gave, and still givls to
our knowledge of the material world

Indeed such gains as have been made in morals since the
Reformation, and they have by no means been inconsiderable
have been due to the steady encroachment of the utilitarian or
common sense code of morals upon the dogmatic; a ^ evidenced
by the fact that whenever men point to tli« i

which have taken place since the Ck Ige th^y a a
to the advancement of those agencies whose tender v ?, to
crease the happiness and decrease the nnln t \ i

Were happiness not the end of

CHAP. VI] FIRST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 261

course, would be no evidence of the advancement of morality.
It is only because medievalism survives longer in the moral
than in the material realm that civilization remains one-sided.

The so-called warfare between religion and science is but one
manifestation of the opposition between the medieval and the
modern method of distinguishing truth from untruth and right
from wrong; it is but a special case of the warfare between
intuitionism and common sense. Wherever the old method
survives a struggle is bound to occur as soon as the new one
begins to encroach upon it. The old method gave us astrology —
the new one gives us astronomy; the old method gave us al
chemy — the new one gives us chemistry ; the old method gave
us Genesis — the new one gives us geology; the old method in
mathematics, in medicine, in biology, in physics, substituted
mysticism for knowledge ; the new one in all these subjects has
substituted knowledge for mysticism, and it will not stop
there. The old method has given us the politics of commerce
— the new one will give us the politics of utility; the old method
has given us the moral code of asceticism — the new one will
give us the moral code of happiness.

We have thus dilated with some reiteration and at consider
able length upon the natural history of dogma because in a dis
cussion of education as a factor of efficiency it is fundamental.
The educative effect of a, clear comprehension of the dilemma
of intuitionism is greater and more broadening than that of a
college education, since at one stroke it abolishes proteromania,
pathomania, and much of logomania. The mind which once
masters it is emancipated. To the philosophical educator the
protection of the developing mind from abuse of its plasticity
is of paramount interest. The experience of history and of
every-day life tells us that dogmatism is to be avoided like a
pestilence — it is a mental and moral disease, and should be
treated as such. Is it the prevailing practice so to treat it?
By no means. Long before the youthful mind has developed
judgment sufficient to render it immune, it is deliberately in
fected by the dogmas, theological and political, at the time and
place prevailing. These dogmas thereafter hold their own
against common sense, for, owing their sanction to their priority
of occupation and not to their reasonableness, they cannot be
dislodged by a demonstration of their unreasonableness. Thus
all kinds of superstitions, harmless and harmful, are perpetu
ated for generations, some being peculiar to certain localities,
others spreading like a contagion to all parts of the earth. So

262 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT I [BOOK II

persistent are these constantly cultivated errors, that did we
not observe the process of perpetuation by education, we should
be tempted to believe that they were transmitted by inheritance.
Were it possible tc check for a single generation the inculcation
of the multitude of dogmas which are now assiduously culti
vated throughout the world, they would at once become of no
more human interest than the myths of the ancient Egyptians.
While this method of education prevails there is no safety for
the human race, for should a dominant part of society become

by any means infected by dogmas destructive of happiness

such as the doctrines of the ascetics — they might readily spread
them throughout the world and perpetuate' them to a remote pos
terity. Each generation would register the dogmas it had re
ceived from its predecessor on the sensitive mind of its youth,
there to become fixed by the operation of the law of diminishing
plasticity, and thus a world might become permanently plunged
in misery from an infection starting perhaps in the mind of a
single imbecile or fanatic. History shows us examples of such
cases, too numerous to mention, none of which perhaps have
become universal, because in the past there has happily been
no ready means of universal contagion. With modern methods
of communication extended to all parts of the world, a con
tagion once started might become universal if the advance of
science fails to develop a method of inoculation which will ren
der the mind immune to dogmatic infection.
Such a method would simply consist in inoculating the youth-
1 mind with common sense instead of with doo-ma Very
young children could not, of course, grasp the principles of
common sense, but if we were content to leave their minds open
until prepared so to do, no harm would result from delay A
knowledge of the exact distinction between truth and untruth
correct and incorrect, right and wrong, and proficience in the
application of such knowledge to the affairs of society, should
be possessed by every youth educated in a civilized community.
' termB would not then be employed in speech or thought
merely to distinguish what is customary from what is not
customary. The most narrowing influence to which the modern
id educated or uneducated, is now subject would be at once
removed Men with such knowledge would be immune to soph-
try whether suggested by their own or other minds, and even
£ as were deficient m information would, in general, be pre-

educLd . 5?apt theT means t0 their end? than the best
educated under the present system; for an undogmatic fool is

CHAP. VI] FIRST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 263

better equipped to deal with practical affairs than a dogmatic
sage. It is not sufficient to prescribe the method of science for
this or that department of knowledge; it should be impressed
upon the student's mind that there is no other correct method
— that the very distinction between correct and incorrect judg
ments is that between those which are determined by the method
of science and those which are not. If a single avenue of knowl
edge is left unguarded, there dogma will enter. Most men
apply the method of science to those branches to which it i^
customary to apply it, but withhold it from those from which i1
is customary to withhold it. Few would withhold the scientific
method from chemistry; but fewer still would apply it to pol
itics. Newton, whose name stands first among the masters of
science, wrote treatises on theology, but he did not apply to
them the method of science. His Principia is probably the most
famous of scientific works, but his Lexicon Propheticum has no
rank in literature and few have ever heard of it. Had he ap
plied the method of the latter work to the former, the name
of Newton would have been known only to a few antiquarians.
Had he applied the method of the former to the latter, he would
have been as famous for his abolition of theology as for his dis
covery of gravitation. Indeed, the domain in which dogma pre
vails is itself determined by dogma — the limits of the author
ity of custom are themselves subject to custom — and hence
it comes about that not only do dogmatists deviate into common
sense, but men of science deviate into dogma.

Thus to guard against dogmatism open-mindedness should
be inculcated, not in one branch of knowledge, but in all
branches. In our examination of the nature of knowledge we
showed that certainty is confined to the laws of thought. Hence
all other knowledge may be subject to correction and every hy
pothesis is a provisional hypothesis. As knowledge advances,
therefore, science is- continually abandoning old hypotheses and
adopting new ones; but this does not mean that all her former
views were defective, but simply that some of them were. For
example, all the discoveries of Euclid in geometry, most of those
of Archimedes in physics, and some of those of Hipparchus in
astronomy, have stood the test of twenty centuries. The re
adjustment of knowledge is the life of science; it is the death
of dogma. When the facts do not agree with the theory, science
rejects the theory; dogma rejects the facts. Hence he who
would consistently practise common sense must keep his mind
open even to the point of questioning the method of science it-

264 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [BOOK II

self. The very methods we have considered of distinguishing
expectations which will, from those which will not, be fulfilled
and of distinguishing useful acts from those not useful, must
be regarded as open to debate. No man is omniscient. Hence
logicians may have erred even in those matters upon which all
agree. To be sure it is not likely, but the possibility should
always be entertained.

This attitude is the only antidote to dogmatism., and the mind
once thoroughly inoculated with it will be as immune as a mind
subject to the laws of habit can be. It is difficult to over
estimate its importance in education. Nevertheless, it has one
disadvantage. It destroys the beneficent with the baneful dog
mas. Truth, like everything else, is useful only so far as it
increases the totality of happiness ; but many have made of truth
an idol and deem it an ultimate end in itself. Scientific men
are particularly prone to this mistake, and the more philosophic
among them, like Clifford and Huxley, speak of the duty, or
sometimes of the " sacred " duty, of testing all beliefs by the
inductive method. We have seen that such a duty relates
only to beliefs which determine acts. Among theological dog
mas there are many which will not stand the test of the in
ductive method, and yet it would be far from useful to destroy
them.

" The fear o? hell's a hangman's whip
To haud the wretch in order ; "

Yet it is a useful whip for those whose egotism is unrestrained
by other considerations, and the extinction of the belief in hell
which the advance of knowledge is now so rapidly accomplish
ing, is by no means an unmixed blessing. Among a consider
able proportion of society a real belief in a real hell would be a
beneficent dogma, though it would be wise to mitigate some of
the traditional fervor of the region. The belief in immortality
and the hope of future happiness founded thereon may or may
not stand the test of the inductive method ; but so long as it
does not lead to asceticism or other forms of harmful fanat
icism, it is not the province of common sense to attempt its
destruction. It is of no interest to inquire whether such an
attempt would be successful or not; it is sufficient that it would
be wrong. Indeed, so long as men make no attempt to guide
their conduct by ecclesiastical cosmology common sense need
seek no quarrel with it. There are too many real foes to fight.
It was only because it permitted its dogmas to govern its acts

CHAP. VI] FIRST FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 265

that the church was an agent of evil in medieval times. The
practice in this country is now all but extinct. We have already
shown that the Christian code of morals is founded, not on
Christian cosmology, but on common sense. Hence the only
surviving good of theology is that involved in its beneficent dog
mas. Those who would destroy them because they are dogmas
commit the very error they condemn. Observing that dogmas
when factors in determining conduct are injurious, they con
clude that injuriousness is an essential quality of dogmas.
Hence they are intolerant of them and become dogmatic on the
subject of dogmatism. They set up truth as a fetish just as
others by similar bad reasoning set up conscientiousness, or
character, or beauty, or wealth, or even money, as a fetish.
They mistake the means for the end. He who would be con
sistent with himself cannot thus have a compound standard.
Use-judgments alone can inform us concerning the usefulness
or lack of usefulness of acts. Dogmas are beneficent if they
lead to a surplus of happiness ; otherwise they are not. A fool's
paradise is better than a sage's purgatory, and it is sound phi
losophy which holds that " when ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to
be wise."

But because ignorance occasionally i,s bliss, it would be folly
to encourage ignorance; for ignorance is much more often not
bliss, nor a means to it.' If, then, an education in common sense
would destroy beneficent as well as baneful dogmas, we may
deplore it, but it can scarcely furnish a reason for the suppres
sion of common sense. To so infer would indicate a very de
fective sense of proportion. Dogmatism is so dangerous, and in
general so harmful, that we must be ready to make great sacri
fices to eliminate it as a determinant of conduct. To do so is
the primary province of education. I have attempted to show
that it is dogmatism combined with logomania which prevents
men from understanding the nature of right and wrong itself,
and is the chief cause of the confusion in the understanding
and application of those terms. I shall in the following chap
ters attempt to show that it is dogmatism which stands between
man and his own happiness — that the world could be converted
from unhappiness to happiness by the simple elimination of
dogma, which now prevents men from perceiving, not only the
interests of society as a whole, but of each man individually.
Perhaps in this attempt I shall fail to carry conviction, but if
so, I shall take care that the failure is not due to any abandon
ment of common sense.

CHAPTER VII

THE SECOND FACTOR OF HAPPINESS

In the foregoing chapter have been in some degree considered
what qualities of individual minds contribute to happiness. In
the present one will be considered the relation which the en
vironment — that part of mind common to normal individuals
— should bear to them, in order to contribute to the same end.
The problem presented to Justice of how to adjust the environ
ment of men so that in its reaction upon them it will generate
happiness with maximum efficiency is essentially the problem of
the engineer who is required to adjust the fuel supply and other
conditions of steam generation to his boilers, so as to generate
steam with maximum efficiency. We shall therefore approach
the problem as though it were one in steam engineering, nor
shall we abandon the method of common sense in dealing with
it merely because it is a problem of greater complexity than is
presented to the engineer.

In order, however, that the object of Justice may be in any
degree attainable, it is clear that not only must there be a
causal relation between a given condition of man's environment
and his happiness, but it must be a recognizable one. In order
to select those conditions which will, and reject those which will
not, increase happiness or decrease unhappiness, we must be
able to distinguish them from those which will have an opposite
effect. Can experience supply the means of thus distinguish
ing? There is a large class of persons who in effect deny that
it can. They have something like this to say : " The world
cannot be made happy by attempting to create external condi
tions of happiness. Happiness is within ourselves. One man's
meat is another man's poison. Men's tastes and needs differ
so that we cannot lay down any rules by which the environment
may be made to conform to them, for by changing the conditions
so as to produce greater happiness in one, we may produce less
in another ; so it is best to do nothing at all." I believe we are
all ^ familiar with such fatalistic rejoinders to any proposal
which seeks to increase joy or diminish misery by changes in the

266

CHAP. Vli] SECOND FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 267

external world. We may admit, and have admitted, that happi
ness is partly within ourselves — that the first factor of hap
piness involves the qualities of the individual, and we may
further admit that an attempt to discover means of gratifying
every desire which by any member of the present or future gen
erations might be felt, would be quite futile. But is it not pos
sible to discover -some causal relations between human environ
ment and happiness so general in their application as to make
the presumable total surplus greater by acting upon them than
by ignoring them? If so, then the conditions which deter
mine useful acts are thereby fulfilled and it will be more useful
to act upon our knowledge of such relations than not to act
upon it. That is, it will be of use to consider the second factor
of happiness, viz., the adjustment of external conditions, as
something which may be changed for the better. Can any such
general relations be cited ? Let us see. Out of 1,000 men, how
many would enjoy being boiled in oil ? Answer : 0. How many
would prefer health to sickness? Answer: At least 999, prob
ably more. How many would prefer riches to poverty? At
least 990, probably more. How many would prefer consuming
$10,000 worth of wealth to producing it? At least 980, prob
ably more. If it is admitted that these answers are correct,
then it is admitted that there are general rules concerning the
relation of man and his environment which it is better to ob
serve than to ignore. This much being acknowledged, our next
step is to attempt to discover them.

Could all individuals be so modified by inheritance and edu
cation as to attain perfect adaptability, the questions discussed
in this chapter would be of no human interest. It would only
be necessary to consider what means would be best adapted to
maintaining the greatest population, for a perfectly adapted
individual would be one capable of being as happy as his ca
pacity for happiness would permit, irrespective of external con
ditions. Such a being would be independent of his environment
and no adjustments other than those for the mere maintenance
of sentiency, that is of life, would be required to secure max
imum efficiency. On the other hand, were external conditions
always perfectly adapted to the desires of individuals, could all
persons gratify their wants by merely wishing or commanding
that they be gratified, were they in the position of Aladdin with
his lamp, it would be equally unnecessary to seek the conditions
of maximum efficiency of adaptation — mere existence would
supply them. Perfect adaptability by either means, however,

268

TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS -PAKT I [BooK H

cannot be attained. Men cannot in every contingency adapt
their desires to their means of attainment, or adapt the means
of attainment to their desires. Hence the question of improv
ing the adjustment of man and his environment — of adapting
his means of attainment to his desires and vice versa, becomes
of human interest.

A clear comprehension of this subject requires that we estab
lish the foundations of a nomenclature adapted to its expression.
Hence the immediate object of our attention must be the differ
entiation of a number of important objects of experience into
classes; and the selection of suitable terms by which to des
ignate them. This essential digression being disposed of, we
may return to the consideration of the laws of nature and of
human nature upon which efficiency of adaptation depends, with
an increased power of comprehending them.

As long as a being is capable of voluntary acts lie must com
mit them. Whether his attitude be active or passive, whether
he directs his body or mind to active effort or abstains there
from, so long as liis mental or physical state is voluntarily as
sumed, he commits a voluntary act. Inaction, if the result of
volition, is as much a voluntary act as action. Hence we may
say that the waking life of a human being consists of a succes
sion of voluntary acts. The exceptions to this dictum are too
infrequent to merit discussion.

Voluntary acts may be divided into (1) Useful. (2) Use
less. It is scarcely necessary to remark that the only interest
men can have in the second class of acts is that implied in ac
quiring means of avoiding them. Useful acts may be divided
into (1) Consumptive acts, or those whose immediate result is
designed to be an increase of happiness, or a decrease of un-
happiness. (2) Productive acts, or those whose more or less
remote result is designed to be an increase of happiness or de
crease of unhappiness. Another name for productive acts is
labor. Between the consumptive act of an individual and the
alteration of happiness it is designed to effect, there intervenes
no other voluntary act. Consumptive acts may be divided into
(1) Those designed to affect the individual committing them,
egotistic consumption. (2) Those designed to affect one or
more other individuals, altruistic consumption. By the word
consumption I shall, in general, refer to egotistic consumption.
The submission by one individual to the acts of altruistic con
sumption of another, is an act of egotistic consumption. Con
sumptive acts furthermore may be divided into (1) Those de-

CHAP. VII] SECOND FACTOE OF HAPPINESS 269

signed to result in a surplus of happiness, positive consumption;
(2) Those designed to result in a surplus of unhappiness,
though less in quantity than that involved in inaction — nega
tive consumption. They may also be both egotistic and altru
istic, and both positive and negative. Productive acts differ
from consumptive in their greater remoteness from their end.
One or more voluntary acts intervene between them and the
effect upon happiness which they are designed to achieve.
Hence they are less likely to attain their end than consumptive
acts and the less likely the more remote they are. The imme
diate aim of consumptive acts is an ultimate end, that of pro
ductive acts is a proximate end. One produces an end, the
other a means. The relation between consumptive and pro
ductive acts may be compared to that between the last operation
of a process involving a succession of operations, and the first
operations. In the making of cotton cloth, the weaving would
correspond to a consumptive act, the planting, cultivating, har
vesting, ginning, baling, and spinning of the cotton would cor
respond to productive acts. Productive, like consumptive, acts
may be egotistic, altruistic, positive and negative, and likewise
may be similarly combined. They may also be divided into
(1) Pleasant, (2) Unpleasant, according as their immediate
effect is pleasurable or not pleasurable. Pleasant productive
acts are distinguished from positive consumptive ones by the fact
that in the one, pleasure is incidental to the act, in the other,
it is the object thereof.

Examples of consumptive acts are such acts as listening tc
music, looking at a play, smoking, playing games, travelling
for pleasure (involving, of course, some productive acts), read
ing stories or poetry, taking medicine, etc. Examples of produc
tive acts are sawing wood, driving a locomotive, painting a house,
dressing, peddling groceries, digging potatoes, forging
shoes etc.

Productive and consumptive acts are designed to satisfy de
sires. Without inquiring as to how many kinds of desire may ex
ist two of import in utility may be distinguished — the desire to
attain pleasure, and the desire to avoid pain. A desire the grat
ification of which results in a surplus of pleasure, we shall call
a taste • one the failure to gratify which results in a surplus of
pain, we shall call a need. Desires may also be both tastes and
needs. Any means, other than an act, which may be employed
to attain a 'surplus of pleasure, we shall call a positive desider
atum. Any means, other than an act, which may be employed to

270 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT I [BooK II

avoid a surplus of pain, we shall call a negative desideratum.
Desiderata may be either external or internal. Anything about
us which may be put to a useful purpose is an example of an
external desideratum. External desiderata may be divided into
material and non^material ; the first being material objects or
combinations of the same; the second being functions of the
relative positions or motions of material objects., comprising
force and energy. Material desiderata whose quantity is suffi
ciently restricted to give them a value in exchange, that is, to
make men willing to sacrifice something to obtain them, con
stitute wealth. We shall frequently use the word wealth as if
it was equivalent to desiderata, because it is more familiar and
will result in no misunderstanding. Character, intellect, ca
pacity for pleasure, education, etc., constitute internal desid
erata.

Now among external desiderata there are some which need
little or no adjustment in order to satisfy desires or wants —
they require no productive acts — no labor — to adapt them to
consumption; there are others which do. It is important to
distinguish between these. Any external desideratum which,
when unmodified except in locality, may be employed in con
sumptive acts, we shall call a complete desideratum. All other
external desiderata we shall call incomplete. The visible heav
enly bodies, air, water, scenes of natural beauty, the pleasing
fruits and flowers produced spontaneously by nature, are exam
ples of natural complete desiderata. Tobacco, confectionery,
perfumes, pictures, interesting books, musical sounds, etc., are
examples of artificial complete desiderata. Iron ore, coal, winds,
water-powers and raw materials and natural powers in general
are examples of natural incomplete desiderata. Pig iron, cop
per wire, bricks, boards, machinery, factories, and means and
elaborated materials of production in general are examples of
artificial incomplete desiderata. Two points regarding the
classification of external desiderata into complete and incom
plete must be noticed. First, the distinction between them is
not sharp because almost any object might, under unusual cir
cumstances, be utilized directly in consumption and hence be
classified as a complete desideratum. Second, it should be
noticed that most complete desiderata may be employed for
other purposes than immediate consumption. Water, for ex
ample, may be used in all sorts of productive processes, and
even the stars or some of them are useful in determining direc
tion or position at sea. Thus we see that incomplete desiderata

CHAP. VII] SECOND FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 271

are not utilizable exclusively in production, nor complete desid
erata in consumption.

Productive acts may be internal or external. Thought for
the purpose of adapting means to ends is an example of internal
productivity. External production is either : (1) Localization.,
the alteration of the position of material bodies or substances
with relation to the earth; or (2) Manipulation-, the alteration
of the position of material bodies or substances with relation to
other bodies or substances. Transportation industries afford
examples of localization; manufacturing industries, of manipu
lation. One degree of localization which may be called perfect
is not a productive but a consumptive act. In the perfect
localization of a complete desideratum, the organization of some
sentient being is, without further intervention of volition, af
fected beneficially. An apple is a complete desideratum. It
is perfectly localized when it is bitten, and not until then. Thus
any act which causes a complete desideratum to act upon the
sensorium of a sentient being is an act of perfect localization.
It is most often accomplished by changing the location of the
desideratum, or the being, but not always. To open a door
separating a person from a source of harmonious sounds would
result in perfect localization. A desideratum so localized as to
be available for consumption through some simple act of an in
dividual, such as a movement of the arm, taking a few steps,
etc., we shall call adequately localized.

As the whole of man's waking life is occupied in acts which
are either productive, consumptive, or neither, we may con
veniently assign names to the fractions of an individual's or a
community's life, occupied in these three ways respectively.
The ratio of that portion of life spent in production to the total
waking life may be called the producing ratio; the ratio of that
portion spent in consumption to the total waking life may be
called the consuming ratio; the ratio of that portion spent in
neither may be called the wasted ratio. It should not be for
gotten that productive and consumptive acts may be really, if
not nominally, wasted if any method other than that of common
sense is employed in adapting them to their end, for though they
are designed for a useful purpose, they may — and often do —
fail in their design, and this occurs most often through the use
of some substitute for common sense.

Having now established a sufficient nomenclature to enable
us to discuss the subject in hand with clearness, we may proceed

272 TECHNOLOGY- OF HAPPINESS -PART I [BOOK II

to develop the principles upon which depend efficiency of adap
tation, free from any serious risk of iimbi<niity

.Neglecting the rare cases of involuntary happiness, the hap.
pmcsscun-e of an individual can nefer be on the positive .,?£
of the X axu except when he w engaged in positive consumption
or pleasant prod,,.ct,olt. It would seem to be most economical
then for men to confine themselves to positive consumption and
pleasant production, and to avoid all unpleasant productive and
negahve consumptive acts. Should they attempt to do thi how-
ever, they would develop a policy of maleficent acceleration
and would soon encounter a situation which, among £ Sterna.'
tives, afforded none that were positively consumptive or S
antlv productive, although affording millions that wTrenot

nVhuent ' a/ 7 k,n°";it' requires to° much Preliminary ad-
-is desiderata are too incomplete and the labor re
quired to make them complete is too unpleasant to permit of
such perpetual happiness. Since unpleasant labor and ,™ 4ive
consumption then cannot he altogether abolished, ft is ne?t of

e -Tut t° T116 '10W "'^ ma>' be minimised; and in order to
lead up to the inquiry, let us develop a fundament-il rule of
conduct, governing the relation between pro, c ion nd
sumption which individuals, consulting only the" own interest
and using common sense, habitually employ.

en

unitsnf i aernaven™lvin A

raits of pleasure, to he attained bv first

means

rei f l^" «eneral;«d°Pt ™y alternative which promised
liom a given quantity of pain onlv bv the emplovment of

the

" ~

and inde d we mu" admt ^~^. to ^«ir« Proposal;

-nat it sometimes does guide the

CHAP. VII] SECOND FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 273

affairs of nations. Yet it has never been definitely laid down
as a rule of action, and a large proportion of the* acts of all
communities are at variance with it. As applied to the problem
under discussion, the rule may be expressed thus: If the con
sumption of a desideratum produces a quantity of pleasure or
saves a quantity of pain less than equivalent to the quantity of
pain involved in its production, the production of the desid
eratum is unjust and should be avoided. A nation guided by
this principle or deliberately recognizing it as a worthy guide,
would thereby be adopting a rule of common sense uni
versally recognized and applied in every-day life. I shall call
this the rule of self-support. It should be the effort of all
sensible communities to dispense with activities which are not
self-supporting. What may be called the margin of self-support
is determinate thus: Suppose one and the same individual
to experience the total effect on happiness involved in the pro
duction and consumption of a given desideratum. He would
judge as to whether the whole operation was worth while, that is,
were self-supporting, by the rule just mentioned. If it were self-
supporting, the margin of self-support would be the happiness
equivalent of the quantity of pain he would suffer, and no more,
rather than forego the operation; if it were not, the margin
whereby it failed of self-support would be the unhappiness
equivalent of the quantity of pleasure it would require, and no
more, to induce him to undergo the operation. The first is a
positive, the last a negative margin of self-support. The larger
the margin can be made (algebraically) in the case of any
operation or industry the better — for the greater the quantity
of pain that an individual would be willing to suffer rather than
forego the pleasure involved in the production and consumption
of a given desideratum, the greater, of course, would be the
happiness value of producing and consuming it.

The value or desirability of happiness not being a function
of its distribution, the margin of self-support of a given pro
ductive and consumptive operation is not altered because the
productive portion is confined to one set of men and the con
sumptive to another. It matters not whether A produces and
A consumes, or whether A produces and B consumes. It is
the total effect on happiness which is of consequence. Hence
the mode specified of determining the margin of self-support is
applicable to communities where the producer and consumer
of a given desideratum are not necessarily one and the same
individual. Now, as all useful acts consist either in producing
18

274 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [BOOK II

or consuming desiderata, internal or external, it is clear that
if we can discover the means of making the margin of self-sup
port of acts or aggregates of acts approach a maximum, we
shall have discovered the means of making the output of hap
piness approach a maximum, which is the object of our search.
These means must consist either in the modification of indi
viduals or in the modification of their environment. We have
in Chapter 6 partially discussed the first subject, and may now
with such system as is attainable, examine the second.

In the following discussion we shall assume that factors (1)
and (3) — the efficiency of conversion of the sentient agent, and
the number of agents, remain constant, in order that the effect
of variation in the second factor alone may be studied. Useful
acts then being either productive or consumptive, their total
effect upon happiness is that of the surplus of pain or pleasure
of production plus the surplus of pain or pleasure of consump
tion. Call the first the surplus of production, the second the
surplus of consumption. The first will then be equal to the
duration of production multiplied by its average intensity. The
second to the duration of consumption multiplied by its average
intensity. Hence the margin of self-support of a combined pro
ductive and consumptive act or industry, or the assemblage of
such combined acts or industries comprised in all useful acts
may be, in general, increased :

(1) By increasing algebraically the' average intensity of pro
ductive acts.

(2) By increasing the duration of productive acts, if the
intensity is positive.

(3) By diminishing the duration of productive acts, if the
intensity is negative.

(4) By increasing algebraically the average intensity of con
sumptive acts.

(5) By increasing the duration of consumptive acts, if the
intensity is positive.

(6) By diminishing the duration of consumptive acts, if the
intensity is negative.

While an algebraic increase in intensity will always increase
the margin of self-support, alteration in duration in the direc
tions specified might not always do so. The relative duration of
production and consumption should depend upon their relative
intensities. The mode of determining the most economic ratio
between them will be indicated presently.

CHAP. VII] SECOND FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 875

It is clear that by appropriate changes in the first factoi of
happiness, the sentient agent, the margin of self-support may be
increased in any or all of the six modes specified, and the em
ployment of educational or hereditary influences to effect such
changes are special cases of productive acts. I shall postpone
consideration of the effect of specific changes in the first factor
to the next chapter, confining attention for the present to the
effect of changes in the second factor, and let us first concern
ourselves with production.

There are open to every normal individual innumerable alter
natives which are painful, to every one which is pleasurable.
With an ordinary hammer there are an indefinite number of
ways in which a man can inflict pain, and intense pain, directly
on himself and others, whereas the modes of using a hammer
whereby pleasure may be produced are as indefinitely restricted,
and the effect is indirect and remote. It is unnecessary to mul
tiply examples. Voluntary acts unless especially designed to
produce pleasure are not at all likely to produce it. A random
act, without any particular design, is exceedingly unlikely to
produce pleasure either directly or indirectly, and hence we
should expect that acts designed to produce a surplus of pleasure
indirectly, namely, acts whose immediate object is a proximate
end, would probably not result in the immediate production of
an ultimate one. In other words, labor is apriori not likely to
be pleasant. Not being especially designed to produce pleasure
immediately, productive acts are not likely to so produce it.
The antecedent probability thus established is amply confirmed
by aposteriori evidence. We have but to look about us to find
that labor is generally an unpleasant operation — that its in
tensity is more often negative than not — sometimes it is
strongly negative — : more often moderately so — frequently it is
almost indifferent — less frequently it is positive — occasion
ally it is strongly positive ; but the vital fact must be recognized
that most labor is unpleasant. During the working hours of
an average individual the curve of happiness of that individual
is usually below the X axis — more pain is experienced than
pleasure, using the word pain as exemplified on page 105. A
purely productive life would not be worth living — to him who
lived it oblivion would be preferable. That such is the opinion
of mankind is clearly seen from their expressions and acts.
Inquire of an average man whether he would desire to live again
that portion of his life which consisted of productive acts alone,
leaving out all the consumptive ones, and his answer will in-

276 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS -PART I [BooK II

variably be a negative one — usually an emphatic negative -
Sis but a mSle of testifying that the productive por ion of
life affords no surplus of happiness. The phrase "labor m
vain "is a common one, but no one speaks of taking pleasure
in vain An act which causes an increase in the totality pi
happiness — a successfully consumptive act — can never be in
vain but a productive act can be, and often is.

Theologians tell us that work is a curse imposed on man as a
consequence of the original sin of Adam - they represent
Heaven as a place where there is no labor. The continual ef
fort of man is to devise means of dispensing with the necessity
of work The development of labor-saving machinery is deemed
a worthy object of effort. Where men are freed from the ne
cessity of work by acquiring wealth they either cease to work
systematically or "confine themselves to certain kinds of work
which are pleasant. No one ever heard of men, in any indus
try strikino- for more hours of labor, except in certain rare
cases where longer hours have meant more pay. Wherever we
turn the unpleasantness of average labor becomes apparent,
work were a pleasant occupation, as some worthy speculators
would have us believe, it would be easy for everyone to be happy.
Every house could be equipped with a treadmill, or some equiva
lent device, to which the members of the family could resort
when in search of recreation. There is no demand for such de
vices even among those who inform us that work is joyful.
Hence we must be sceptical of him who avers that labor is a
good in itself, for were this so, the kind of labor would be a mat
ter of indifference. Mill remarks :

" It is necessary to include in the idea, (of labor) not solely the
exertion itself, but all feelings of a disagreeable kind, all bodily
inconvenience or mental annoyance, connected with the employ
ment of one's thoughts, or muscles, or both, in a particular
occupation." J

Thus the unpleasant character of average labor is a postulate
of political economy.

In fact, most of the work which has to be done in the world is
a dismal bore, and the attempt by men, women, and children to
avoid it is perfectly natural. Tt would be unnecessary to dwell
on the unpleasant character of average labor were it not that
the subject is badly confused by sincere but superficial moral-

i Principles of Political Economy; Book I, Cliap. 1.

CHAP. VII] SECOND FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 277

ists. They preach perpetually on the virtue of work and the
vice of leisure. They exhort men to labor long and faithfully
and they have words of particular opprobrium for him who
does not — such as shirk, or loafer. The continual necessity
which these moralists deem themselves under to exhort men to
work is but another evidence that there is disinclination to do
it, and there would be no such general disinclination if work
really gave pleasure. So successfully, however, has this school
of morality wrought upon the conscience of the people that a
vast number of men deem labor a duty — just as the Puritans
of two hundred years ago deemed all sorts of unhappiness a
duty, and most sorts of happiness a sin — just as the ascetics of
the^Middle Ages deemed it their duty to mortify the flesh and
renounce the world and all its pleasures. The modern school
of morality which indiscriminately urges the duty of work is
a direct descendant of the ascetic 'school which urged the duty
of unhappiness. No one who clearly understands the difference
between right and wrong can indorse .the morality of those who
make of toil a fetish and deem it an end in itself. Work, like
anything else, is only useful or moral in the degree that it con
tributes to the surplus of happiness. The only duty which men
have to perform productive acts is that involved in the obliga
tion to achieve consumptive ones. Production is moral only
because it leads to consumption. It certainly is a sign of no
bility of character for a man to be willing to spend his life in
labor for others, and the very characteristic by which we recog
nize its nobility proves that there is a duty to refrain from work
as well as a duty to work. His nobility consists in being willing
to produce that others may in that degree dispense with pro
duction; his willingness to forego consumption enables others
to consume in a greater degree. The fact that this is recog
nized as an altruistic act, but confirms our claim that labor is
generally deemed unpleasant. Indeed, were this not so, it is
clear that it would be no sign of altruism to work for others -
the shirk would be the typical altruist, since if labor is pleasant,
he who foregoes it by shifting it upon others is doing them a
service. Suppose everyone, desiring to be altruistic, did, in fact,
labor continually for 'others. Suppose that A labored contin
ually that B, C, and D, might reap the reward of his labor; B
labored continually that A, C, and D, miglit reap the reward,
and so with the rest. It is clear that the labor of all wonld be
wasted since none wonld have permitted himself time to con
sume that which the others had made available for his con-

278 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAET I [BOOK II

sumption. I shall, in fact, hereafter prove that not only is it the
duty of every man to spend a part of his time in production, but
it is equally his duty to spend a part in consumption, and most
important of all, it is his duty to continually increase the dura
tion of consumption at the expense of that of production. Men
have but one life to live: if they are not happy, they may to
be sure be economic factors in society from the happiness they
cause others, but the unhappiness of the average man would
involve the failure of society in its only useful object. His duty
to play is, if anything, more imperative than his duty to work.
The old hymn exhorts us to "Work, for the night is coming
when man's work is done/7 The exhortation of the utilitarian
moralist should be "Play, for the night is coming when man's
play is done."

All desiderata save those which nature supplies gratis may be
produced only by the expenditure of labor. The happiness val
ue of the labor required to produce a given desideratum we shall
call its labor cost, and shall measure that cost by the amount of
pleasure or pain involved in it. Thus the labor cost of a
desideratum is found by multiplying the average intensity of
pleasure or pain of the operations required to produce it by
the duration of said operations. As labor is generally un
pleasant, labor cost is most conveniently measured in pathon-
minutes or hours. Hence a positive labor cost will indicate a
negative amount of happiness, and a negative labor cost a posi
tive amount.

The change which labor accomplishes — its product or amount
of production, on the other hand, is determined by the initial
and final states of the system operated upon, and is independent
of the mode by which the change has been brought about. Thus
to convert a ton of iron ore into an equivalent of pig iron is a
definite amount of production and is the same amount whatever
the means employed to effect it — whether involving much
labor cost or little.

No general method of measuring production, except in terms
of labor cost, however, has ever been suggested. We might say
that the production of 1,000 bushels of oats was a thousand
times the production of one bushel ; but when different desiderata
are compared, labor cost is the only useful common measure.
Unless such a measure is employed we cannot assign any mean
ing to the statement that one amount of production is greater
or less than another. Nevertheless at any given place and time
a relation between any given amount of production and its

CHAP. VII] SECOND FACTOK OF HAPPINESS 279

labor cost must obtain ; and it is of particular interest to com
pare this relation at different times, since it measures the ad
vance of the productive arts. Hence the amount of a given
production I shall measure by the labor cost required to achieve
the change from the given initial to the given final state in a
specified condition of the efficiency of conversion and of the pro
ductive arts. This enables us to define the term efficiency of
production. It is the ratio of a given production to its labor
cost, being directly proportional to the amount of production,
and'inversely proportional to the labor cost. By the productive
power or capacity of a given individual or assemblage thereof,
I mean the amount of production achievable by him or them
in a given time : i. e., the rate of production of desiderata. ^ The
amount of production required in the creation of wealth is the
measure of the amount of wealth so created. Were it necessary,
a unit of production might be established by fixing the labor cost
under specified conditions of some particular product as a stand
ard, but as no such unit is required, none will be established.

Let us next examine the uniformities discoverable in nature
and human nature which affect the efficiency of production.
One fact is universally acknowledged. Monotonous labor is
more unpleasant than varied labor. The continued repetition
of a series of productive acts is usually disagreeable and pro
gressively so. Varied labor is less unpleasant and is, m truth,
frequently pleasant, particularly at first, but the pleasure of
successive acts, exclusively productive, continually dwindles ; at
least such is its normal course. This diminishing return in
pleasure to reiterated stimulus we may call the law of fatigue.
It is by no means confined to productive acts. Its operation
in extreme cases is conspicuously painful, and is most marked
in monotonous occupations where the stimulus is continually
applied to the same set of nerves. The law of fatigue may be
expressed graphically, as in the accompanying diagram, (ing. 1),
the abscissae representing duration, the ordinates intensity.
(1) Eepresents a normal and maintained pleasant productive
operation: (2) An operation which, in its earlier stages is
pleasant, but in which the pleasure is not maintained:
Eepresents what may perhaps be considered a normal productive
operation: (4) A purely unpleasant operation. (1) and (2)
represent varied operations and would be typical of the fine
arts: (3) and (4) monotonous operations typical of the use:

arts, so called.

The fatigue curves of most productive operations tend

280 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [BOOK II

become asymptotes to a line parallel with the X axis and below
it, that is, they continually approach and continually become
more nearly parallel to such a line. Obviously the curves shown
are only typical; they merely illustrate the type of curve which
the law of fatigue produces. The curves of productive opera
tions have many different initial points, and vary much in
steepness and curvature. Many circumstances, too, may make
them depart from the normal, but these do not concern us.
What does concern us is that the law of fatigue is a law of

FATIGUE CURVES OF PRODUCTION.

Consecutive productive hours
2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 II 12 13 14 15 16

Fig.7.

human nature, not accidental, occasional, or varying materially
with the history of the individual, and hence if we would dis
cover the economics of happiness, we cannot ignore it.

We come next to the consideration of two laws, partly of
human nature, partly of nature, which are of profound sig
nificance in the economy of production. They are both laws
of decreasing returns to labor. The first I shall call the law of
diminishing returns. It holds a conspicuous place in political
economy, and is the result of two conditions : (1) The resources
f nature are in very various degrees adapted to the require
ments of man. Some portions require much less adjustment
than others to satisfy his ends, whether those ends be rio-ht
correct, or merely adaptive. (2) Man, in general, will adapt
those portions of the available resources to his ends which are

CHAP. VII] SECOND FACTOK OF HAPPINESS 881

most easily adapted, whose adjustment requires the least labor.
The consequence of these two conditions is that, in the develop
ment of the resources of a country, those which are most easily
accessible and which require least adaptation, are utilized first;
those less accessible and requiring more adaptation, being left to
future utilization. The richest soils and mines are developed
and exhausted first, the best timber lands cleared, the
most valuable fur-bearing or other animals exterminated. Thus
progressively less well-adapted resources have, in the course of
history, to be utilized, and were there no offset to this diminish
ing return of nature, it would become progressively more diffi
cult for man to adjust the available resources to his end, and it
would require progressively greater labor to adapt desiderata so
as to produce the same possibilities of consumption. There are
many modes by which the return from a given quantity of labor
may be diminished besides that we have mentioned. Any sort
of bad management in industry can accomplish it. To the re
sult of one kind of bad management I shall confine the term
law of dwindling returns of labor, to the result namely of the
bad distribution of labor. Economists generally discuss this
law in its relation to agricultural operations, but it is not con
fined to such, though it is true that in agricultural industries
the law of diminishing returns stimulates the operation of the
law of dwindling returns. I shall not discuss it here since it
is sufficiently explained on page 316.

As all economists recognize, there exists an offset to the law
of diminishing returns which may be called the law of increas
ing returns. Its characteristics are easily made manifest. Sup
pose two men, A and B, start to mow a field one acre in extent,
A equipped with a scythe, B with a mowing machine. The
object of both is to convert the incomplete desideratum of the
standing grass into the less incomplete desideratum of mown
grass. Let us, for the sake of simplicity, call the intensity of
labor the same for both A and B. Normally the surplus of pro
duction is negative. It is not fun to mow the acre in either
manner. Neither A nor B on finishing his mowing would feel
gratified to see the grass standing again, thus offering another
opportunity for them to mow it. Now it will take A with his
scythe about ten hours to mow the field, whereas B with his
mowing machine can do it in one hour. Hence the same
amount of production is accomplished with less labor by B's
method than by A's; the intensity of labor being the same, but
the duration being less for B than for A. What has caused

282 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS -PART I [BooK II

Seindefini ^ multiplied. In our day machinery is applied m
"if not all, productive processes. The adjustment of the
rviromnent to he requirements of man is largely accomplished
bv ite belp and in all arts the same result is accomplished -
t proK power per capita ie continually *«^ ™a
law of increasing returns is obviously a direct offset ^ the law
of diminishing returns, the one acting to increase, the other
to diminish, the productive power per capita The -ore rapidly
the resources of a country are exploited, the more is the law
of diminishing returns stimulated into operation and the more
will the productive power per capita dimmish The more rap
idly labor-saving machinery is introduced into production the
more will the law of diminishing returns be $ nullified and the
more will the productive power per capita increase. On the
relative rate of speed of these two opposing developments the
productive power per capita at a given time will depend.

It is worth remarking at this point that whereas in every
country the law of diminishing returns is, and during the period
of its habitation always has been and always will be, in opera
tion the law of increasing returns is only in operation where
men deliberately use their brains to devise improvements in the
productive arts — where they employ their common sense to
better adapt their means to their ends, proximate or ultimate.
The better equipped they are then with common sense and with
the means of knowledge, theoretical and applied, which the
operation of common sense supplies, the more rapidly will their
productive power per capita increase. Tn other words, the law
of Increasing returns results from the application of science,
and the degree in which- it affects the industries and the pro
ductive power of a country for the better, is directly propor
tional to the degree of development of science in that country.
To effect the most simple and primitive or the most complex
and modern improvements in the arts the same mental processes
are employed, viz., observation, and inference. When a monkey
uses a stone or a club to knock cocoanuts from a tree, he uses

CHAP. VII] SECOND FACTOR OF HAPPINESS

the same kind of mental operation which is employed by a
Watt,, a Stephenson, a Bessemer, or an Edison in devising the
ingenious improvements in the arts which have made these in
ventors famous; and the same kind, indeed, which a New
ton, a Galileo, a Faraday, or a Kelvin uses in discovering the
great uniformities of nature upon which the progress of ap
plied science depends. The monkey, the inventor, and the
scientific explorer or discoverer, employ the same method, viz.,
common sense; for science, as we have already observed, is
merely consistent common sense. The monkey would never
have used the stone to save himself labor had he not known
something of the laws of gravitation and momentum, though
he had no name for either. Similarly, Watt would never have
invented the steam engine had he been ignorant of the laws
of gaseous expansion, nor would modern electrical invention?
have been possible without a knowledge of the laws of electro
dynamics discovered by Ampere and Faraday. To apply these
laws, or any others, in the arts it is first essential to determine
what we desire to accomplish, and second to apply the knowl
edge made available by science to its accomplishment.

It will be of service before proceeding further to more clearly
define a machine. A printing press, a locomotive, a derrick, are
generally recognized as machines; but is a shovel a machine, is
a tooth-pick a machine, are buildings, stove-pipes, bolts and
barrels machines ? It will be convenient to class them as such,
as will appear from the following distinction.

In the production of external desiderata, whether it be by
manipulation or localization, we may distinguish between that
which is manipulated or localized, and that through the agency
of which the manipulation or localization is accomplished. The
first I shall call the material the second the machinery of pro
duction. Together they constitute the means of production.
The first may be almost any material object, mineral, animal,
or vegetable, and often consists of the unchanged or raw ma
terial of the earth itself. The second includes any means, not
essential to all production, by which to effect the manipulation
or localization of the first. We shall not class the human body
with machines, since it must, immediately or remotely, always
take part in production, and for the same reason, we shall not
class the earth or the forces of nature as machines. But if a
tool or instrument, such as those already cited, is used, then a
means not essential to all labor is employed, and such^ tool or
instrument is a machine whether it be as simple as a stick used

284

TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [BOOK II

as a lever or as complex as a marine engine. It must not be
inferred, however, that the only machinery employed in pro
duction is that which is visible and tangible. It makes a dif
ference where, by whom, how continuously and with what re
lation to other processes, men's acts are performed. The rules
policies, or plans according to which these things are determined
is a part of the machinery of production. The policy of the
division of labor is such a part. The principle by whose oper
ation the place and functions of each man m a productive es
tablishment are determined is such a part. In short, the organ
ization of industry is a part of the mechanism of production.
Human language "itself is a species of machinery. A machine
then is any means of production, exclusive of the materials
thereof, the human body, the earth, and the forces of nature.
This definition may appear somewhat loose; but for the pur
pose we have in view, it is sufficient. If flaws may be found
in it I believe they will not be such as to invalidate any con
clusion we may draw. Machines may be divided into material
and non-material, according as they are material objects or not.
They may be employed directly or indirectly in the production
of either 'internal or external desiderata.

Before proceeding with the subject of machinery it will be well
to point out that the development of a country does not neces
sarily result in the progressive depletion of its resources. There
is a variety of development the effect of which is to produce ma
chinery by which the resources of a country may be made avail
able. Examples of such development are the construction of
roads, bridges, railroads, and irrigation works, the improve
ment of water powers and harbors bv dredging, breakwater con
struction, etc., and the clearing of land of stones and forest
for purposes of cultivation. This kind of development may be
called preparatory development in distinction to that by which
the resources of a country are caused to diminish, which may
be called final development. The object of preparatory devel
opment is the construction of a machine, for a road or an irri
gation reservoir is a kind of machine, and a cleared field may
be put in the same category, since it is a portion of the earth
artificially prepared for productive purposes. Incidentally, of
course, preparatory development may — in fact must — involve
some final development, since stone must be quarried to build
roads and dams, and food and coal utilized by the men and
prime motors employed in their construction. Indeed, the clear
ing of land, if carried too far, may convert this incidental effect

285

CHAP. VII] SECOND FACTOK OF HAPPINESS

into a primary one. There comes a time in the clearing of a
country when the destruction of forests to produce arable land
results' in more loss than gain; for lumber itself is a crop and
destruction is not the best mode of harvesting it. Hence the
progressive clearing of forests may be transformed from a use
ful into a maleficently accelerative policy. By comparing the
two kinds of development, it becomes clear that preparatory de
velopment is an application of the law of increasing returns,
and that it is only final development which sets in operation
the law of diminishing returns.

We have ascertained that the law of increasing returns oper
ates to diminish the duration of labor required to accomplish
a given amount of adjustment. What is its effect upon in
tensity? Does the introduction of machinery make production
more, or less, pleasant? In agricultural and certain other pur
suits, where it relieves men of severe muscular effort, it usually
diminishes the intensity of pain involved in production, but in
a majority of cases it has the opposite effect. This is particu
larly true of manufacturing operations which absorb more and
more of the world's labor.

In the primitive condition of production, each man or family
obtained the food, the skins for clothing, the wood for burning,
and the materials for building the rude shelters which served
primitive men for dwellings, with his or their own hands. All
that each family required was produced by the family, and no
exchange of products took place. This condition is to be ob
served among animals and is called individualistic or individual
ized production.

As the ingenuity of men resulted in the invention ot new
articles of use, however, certain individuals confined their at
tention more and more to the production of some one article,
some perhaps making bows and arrows, others making no bows
and arrows, but utilizing those made by their fellows in the
chase • still others confining their attention to making clothes
or pottery, etc. As soon as such a division of production had
taken place, exchange arose, for each family no longer satisfied
all its own requirements by its own activities, but only a part
of them. To supply the deficiency it produced more of certain
articles than for its own purposes were required, and exchanged
the surplus for articles which it did not produce, but which
other individuals produced in quantities greater than were re
quired for their use. Thus the bow-maker exchanged his bows
with the hunters of the vicinity for game procured by them,

286

TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT I [BOOK II

the maker of clothing similarly exchanged his product for food
or other desiderata, and thus trade or commerce arose, and by
slow stages developed into the vast and complex system of local
and international exchange which to-day occupies so much of the
world's attention. I do not propose to trace the course of
this development or to comment on the rise of the system of
exchange through the medium of money, or the credit system —
all this is sufficiently discussed in any political economy. What
I do desire is to trace the effects of this system upon the intro
duction of machinery and the intensity of labor. The division
of labor which gave rise to exchange is, in modern industries,
pushed to extremes. Instead of confining their attention to the
making of one article, the operatives in modern factories make
but a small portion thereof, the co-operative labor of many such
operatives, each performing a separate function, being required
to produce the finished article. Production which thus requires
the co-operation of a number of persons is known as socialistic
or socialized production.

It is found that by this method the sam9 number of operatives
can produce far more in a given time than if each operative
carries on a succession of operations resulting in the production
of a completed commodity, as in the more primitive methods of
manufacture; methods which survive in some kinds of produc
tion to-day. Blacksmiths, cabinet makers, and masons, for ex
ample, employ the more primitive methods and so do small
farmers and fishermen. Less than three generations ago, cloth
ing, bedding, table linen, etc., was spun and woven at home,
the women of the household starting with the raw material and
carrying it through a succession of operations to the completed
coat! or sheet, or table cloth. To-day the same operations are
carried on with far less labor by a series of complex machines,
spinners, looms, etc., each kind of machine being attended by an
operative who confines his attention to one or more machines of
that one kind. The machines are usually power driven and
largely automatic, the duty of the operatives being merely the
feedipg of the machines or the periodic pressing of a lever or
pulling of a cord. Thus the operatives may almost be said to be
employed by the machines rather than to employ them ; they
may, indeed, be compared to a part of the machine, a cog or
cam whose almost automatic action has not as yet been suffi
ciently simulated by a mechanical device to dispense with the
services of the human hand and brain. Continually, how
ever, these gaps in the perfect self-sufficiency of the mechanism

CHAP. VII] SECOND FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 287

are filled by the progress of invention and the successive opera
tions of production are performed by gigantic automata which
do everything but think. The result is that modern production
is generally exceedingly monotonous, involving little muscular,
but great nervous, strain, and as all productive operations tend
to become increasingly automatic and self-regulating, productive
labor tends, in most industries, to become increasingly mo
notonous and the pain involved of greater intensity. Division
of labor then, and the introduction of machinery, while they
diminish the duration required for a given amount of produc
tion, increase the intensity of a given duration of labor.

Thus the introduction of machinery into industry tends to
modify another factor of productive efficiency — the skill and
interest with which men labor. Other things being equal,
the efficiency of production is a direct function of these. Pro
duction by machinery tends to dispense with the need of the
first and to diminish the second; the former being a good,
the latter a bad effect. The less skill required of a laborer, the
greater the chance that such as is required will be supplied,
and the less labor will be needed to acquire capacity for pro
duction. The less interested a laborer is in his work, the less
likely is he to apply the skill he possesses, and the speed of pro
duction, as well as the quality of the product both suffer. Hence
independent of its effect upon productive intensity, loss of in
terest tends to inefficiency of production.

Let us now define a labor-saving machine. We have shown
that labor should be measured by duration times intensity. Is
this true of labor with a machine ? It is, but the labor involved
in producing and maintaining the machine must be considered
in the calculation. Suppose a man who owns a spade has an
acre of ground to turn over. Suppose in order to save himself
labor, he constructs a crude plow for the purpose which is
worn out after turning over the acre. Ignoring the labor in
volved by the horses which draw the plow, if the labor of making
it plus the labor of turning over the acre therewith is greater
than that of turning it over with the spade, it is clear that no
labor is saved by the production and use of the plow. It is
not a labor-saving machine. Suppose, however, the plow, though
costing the same labor to make, has been well enough made to
plow one hundred acres before wearing out. It will then be
necessary to add to the labor of plowing the field but yj^ the
labor involved in making the plow, and this, if it is less than
that of spading an acre, as it obviously will be, will con-

288 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAST I [BOOK II

stitute the plow a labor-saving machine. It is clear that all
repairs made on the plow will have to be calculated in the
total. JNow it makes no difference whether A makes the ma-
imeand A uses it, or whether A, B, and C make the machine
and i), Ji, and F use it; the same rale applies. The labor cost
of a given amount of production by the employment of a given
machine M is measured by the sum of three terms- (1) The
labor involved in designing and making M — the initial cost T
multiplied by a coefficient (k) representing the fraction which
the given amount of production is of the total amount of which
the machine is capable. (•>) The total labor cost of repair K
multiplied by a fractional coefficient (p) indicating tlJ propc r-
tion of the total repairs to be credited to the giv<Tn amount of
production (3) The labor cost L of operating the machine
during said production. Calling the labor cost L C and ^
pressing the proposition in mathematical form we have-
L.C.= (k)I+(p)E + L

til "Ar'1"''' i T 'S l6SS t!'an tlmt rcqHired Ilad M not b«™ «sed

then M is a labor-saving machine — otherwise, it is not It is

evident that he machine M may have been produced by the use

•f other machines Mu M,, M3, etc., and the term I?C must

n each case be calculated in precisely the same manner as the

bo cost „ calculated m any other instance of production. These

machines in turn may have been made by the aid of other ma

mode™ "V* bCC°mi>B deilr tllat flle labor cost of any item of

modern production contains sums which must be credited to
some of the earliest machines made by the hand of man but
after ffomgback in tl,is manner a very little distance "he sums
to be credited to earlier machines become negligibly small For
co,,ven,ence, we may call the term (k)I the ^ ierm" t e tfrn

erm e rn

cost IP M e™' f"? f'le te™ L tllc '* ird *<•"». of the labor
Iv.C. Many products cannot be made at all without the

r^ tbntcT'- V T''P firf ™chil?« for -al<inS thele producl
is, m that case, of course, labor-saving, whatevef the labor cost
n m0(1orn „ ,,, tr>, H fr( h -

"

before wearing out, but 'the capaeityVfore being'Sac'el

CHAP. VII] SECOND FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 289

to produce the result, the man and the machine. The first is the
sentient, the second, the non-sentient factor of production. The
labor cost of such an operation must be calculated as in all other
cases, namely, by the equation above given.

The first two terms (k)I and (p)R are the terms of the non-
sentient, the third term L of the sentient factor. When a la
bor-saving machine is introduced into production, the first two
terms may or may not be increased, but the third term is dimin
ished, and diminished in such a degree that the sum of the
three terms is less than before. If the last condition is not ful
filled the machine is not a labor-saving one, and is not an
economic factor in production however efficient it may be in
other respects.

In the preceding brief discussion of the economics of pro
duction, three points appear clearly: (1) Average labor is un
pleasant. (2) Machinery docs not diminish the intensity of its
unpleasantness, but (3) May diminish its duration without de
crease, and even with increase, in the productive power per
capita.

Thus machinery may be employed to save labor, but it does
not follow that it must be. It is a means of increasing the
efficiency of production ; that is, of increasing the ratio between
a given amount of production and its labor cost, and this may
obviously be accomplished in a variety of ways, three of which
are of interest to the economist: (1) The amount of production
may remain constant and the labor cost decrease. (2) The
labor cost may remain constant and the amount of production
increase. (3) The labor cost may decrease and the amount of
production^ increase. To the question of which of these three
policies it is most economic for society to adopt — of which will
most increase the margin of self-support — we shall return
when better prepared to decide. .Such preparation requires an
understanding of the object of production — consumption.

The intelligent understanding of consumption requires that ;>
current Delusion be dissipated at the outset of our discussion.
Dogmatic political economy has only an incidental interest in
consumption, whereas real political economy has a cardinal inter
est in it. The dogmatic economist regards that labor only as pro
ductive which results in the production of wealth, and the
destruction or dissipation of wealth by men in the attainment
of ends — whether useful or useless — he calls consumption.
Here is a case of verbal emasculation, and it affords an im-

290 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAET I [BOOK II

pressive example of the baneful results of that variety of logo-
mania. Compare this immaterial distinction of the dogmatic
economist with that which has been made in the present work
between production and consumption. Which is the more likely
to, be of service in expressing propositions of interest to sentient
beings? Important terms should express important objects of,
or distinctions in, experience. By ignoring this maxim of
common sense and giving unimportant meanings to their funda
mental terms, economists are, at the outset, beset by the danger
of promulgating propositions, true perhaps, but of slight human
interest, and observation proves that it is a danger they have
been unable to avoid. By substituting such immaterial proposi
tions for material ones as a guide to the conduct of society, they
have hopelessly deflected the thought and policies of modern
states from the path of common sense into that of practomania
— from utility into commercialism. Let us trace their mode
of accomplishing this.

After making their arbitrary distinction between production
and consumption they proceed to distinguish between productive
and unproductive consumption. Thus/ Mill says:

" The distinction of Productive and Unproductive is applicable
to consumption as well as to labour. All the members of the
community are not labourers, but all are consumers, and consume
either unproductively or productively. Whoever contributes noth
ing directly or indirectly, to production, is an unproductive con
sumer. The only productive consumers are productive labourers;
the labour of direction being of course included, as well as that
of execution. But the consumption even of productive labourers
is not all of it productive consumption. There is unproductive
consumption by productive consumers. What they consume in
keeping up or improving their health, strength, and capacities
of work, or in rearing other productive labourers to succeed them
is productive consumption. But consumption on pleasures or
luxuries^ whether by the idle or by the industrious, since pro
duction is neither its object nor is in any way advanced by it,
must be reckoned unproductive; with a reservation perhaps of
a certain quantum of enjoyment which may be classed among
necessaries, since anything short of it would not be consistent
with the greatest efficiency of labour. That alone is productive
consumption, which goes to maintain and increase the productive
powers of the community; either those residing in its soil, in
its materials, in the number and efficiency of its instruments of
production, or in its people." 1

i Principles of Political Economy; Book I.

CHAP. VII] SECOND FACTOE OF HAPPINESS 291

After dwelling upon unproductive consumption and the labor
required to make it possible, he proceeds :

" We see, however, by this, that there is a distinction, more
important to the wealth of a community than even that between
productive and unproductive labour; the distinction, namely,
between labour for the supply of productive, and for the supply
of unproductive, consumption; between labour employed in keep
ing up or in adding to the productive resources of the country,
and that which is employed otherwise. Of the produce of the
country, a part only is destined to be consumed productively; the
remainder supplies the unproductive consumption of producers,
and the entire consumption of the unproductive classes. Suppose
that the proportion of the annual produce applied to the first
purpose amounts to half; then one-half the productive labourers
of ^the country are all that are employed in the operations on
which the permanent wealth of the country depends. The other
half are occupied from year to year and from generation to gen
eration in producing things which are consumed and disappear
without return; and whatever this half consume is as completely
lost, as to any permanent effect on the national resources as if it
were consumed unproductively." 1

It is here that Mill slips into his own and the reader's mind
the confusion which renders the science of economics so danger
ous, for all dogmatic economists from Adam Smith to the
present time make the same error. Mill speaks of " a distinc
tion more important to the wealth of a community than even
that between productive and unproductive labor/' What does
he mean by " important to the wealth of a community ? " The
latter part of the quotation shows that he means "'important
to the accumulation of a community's wealth," and his whole
work, as well as that of other economists, shows that it is deemed
the proper policy of a community to accumulate wealth as
rapidly as possible. This requires that production be made a
maximum and consumption a minimum. In other words typical
economists confuse productive with useful and unproductive
with useless, and infer that men should consume only in order
that they may produce, instead of producing in order that they
may consume. Economists, of course, do not explicitly main
tain this. On the contrary, in words, they disavow the doctrine.
Thus Mill utters this pregnant truth:

i Ibid.

292 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAET I [Boon II

"It would be a great error to regret the large proportion of
the annual produce, which in an opulent country goes to supply
unproductive consumption. It would be to lament that the com
munity has so much to spare from its necessities, for its pleasures
and for all higher uses. This portion of the produce is the fund
from which all the wants of the community, other than that of
mere living, are provided for; the measure of its means of enjoy
ment, and of its power of accomplishing all purposes not pro
ductive. That so great a surplus should be available for such
purposes, and that it should be applied to them, can only be a
subject of congratulation. The things to be regretted, and which
are not incapable of being remedied, are the prodigious inequality
with which this surplus is distributed, the little worth of the objects
to which the greater part of it is devoted, and the large share
which falls to the lot of persons who render no equivalent service
in return." 1

Had Mill followed up this suggestion and sought means
whereby wealth might be applied economically in the production
of happiness, suggesting some remedy for the " prodigious in
equality " which he observed, his words would have had more
force. But he does nothing of the kind. He proceeds on the
implication that productive and useful acts are identical instead
of on its explicit disavowal, and modern writers of his school
follow in his steps. They all proceed on the assumption that
the distinction between productive and unproductive labor and
consumption is important, not only to the wealth of a com
munity, but to the community itself. The fact is, that it is not.
Of course, economists, if it affords them amusement, are entitled
to point out that labor may be divided into two classes, pro
ductive and unproductive, just as anthropologists are entitled to
point out that mankind may be divided into two classes, the
bewhiskered and the unbewliiskered. Both asseverations, how
ever, are of that class of propositions which are uninteresting, if
true. The harm comes in confusing the distinction between pro
ductive and unproductive, with that between useful and useless.

It has already been observed that a purely productive existence
is not self-supporting; that it involves an output of more pain
than of pleasure. Unless the intensity of consumption then is
considerable, it is impossible in a world in which men devote
the majority of their waking hours to production, to make their
average acts self-supporting, or worth while. In such a world
life is not worth living, and were it not for the fear of death

i Ibid.

CHAP. VII] SECOND FACTOK OF HAPPINESS 293

men would not consent to live in perpetual production. The
definite integral of happiness for an average productive day is
negative, tinder these conditions it is clear that practomania
is an exceedingly dangerous deviation from common sense —
a deviation which society can ill afford to tolerate.

Let us suppose a steam-engineer to have practomania. Sup
pose by burning his coal with maximum efficiency of adapta
tion he can produce twelve pounds of steam per pound of coal ;
steam is what he seeks, and hence he desires a surplus of it, but
he must use some of it in mining and hoisting his coal. Let us
assume that he has machinery whereby by the use of one pound
of steam he can mine one pound of coal. By consuming this
one pound economically in his boilers he can produce twelve
pounds of steam, which gives him a surplus of eleven pounds of
steam for every pound of coal mined. But if he has practo
mania, he will not do this. He will reason thus : " In order to
produce steam, coal must be mined, and the more coal the more
steam. Hence I must produce all the coal possible; this may
be accomplished best by utilizing all the steam I generate in the
mining of coal/7 By this method he would, of course, obtain a
great accumulation of coal, and if he burned it economically this
accumulation would continually increase; suppose, however, he
paid no attention to the economy of consumption, but so fed the
coal to the boilers that some obtained much more than that re
quired for maximum efficiency and some much less. It is clear that
in this way he would obtain a wretched efficiency of adaptation
and would get neither a surplus of steam nor an accumulation of
coal. In fact, he might get a deficit of steam, and have to buy
it from some other producer in order to get enough to mine his
coal. Hence an engineer with practomania would not only fail
to make his steam plant self-supporting — he might achieve a
negative margin of self-support — that is, a deficit. What
would be thought of such an engineer? Would anyone say he
used common sense in his business ? Would Justice imitate him
in directing the affairs of society whose business is the produc
tion of happiness? Not if she had common sense. Political
economists, however, invite us to adopt just such a policy. So
far as they consider happiness as an end at all they reason like
the mad engineer. In order to produce happiness, wealth must
be produced, and the more wealth the more happiness. Hence
we must produce all the wealth possible; this may be accom
plished by employing all our leisure or potentiality of happiness
in the production of wealth. By this method, wealth may be

294 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [BOOK II

accumulated most rapidly. Yes, but how are we to get a surplus
of happiness by this method ? Can we afford to pay no attention
to the economy of consumption of wealth? Economists, by
completely ignoring the economy of consumption., leave us to
infer that we can.

Every business man knows that to permit productive machin
ery to stand idle when it might be employed in production is an
uneconomic policy. Suppose those who at present are chiefly in
strumental in guiding the affairs of society, the statesmen and
economists of our day, should regard themselves as the managers
for, or representatives of, Justice on earth ; responsible to her
for the just management of the machinery of happiness pro
vided by terrestrial conditions. What excuse could they offer
for permitting the happiness producing mechanisms — the
sentient beings of the earth — to stand idle so large a part of
the time — idle, that is, so far as the production of happiness
is concerned? Would they have a better excuse than the mad
engineer for allowing the machinery in their charge to consume
most of its time in producing something other than that which
it is its object to produce ; and if they offered ignorance as an
excuse — what excuse would they offer for ignorance ? Why do
they not inform themselves of what the end of Justice is, before
they attempt to seek it. Would they be guilty of such a travesty
in any of the common affairs of life? If not, can they offer any
excuse for their omission, save that custom has seduced them
from common sense?

We have seen that the margin of self-support of an act may be
increased by one or more of three effects upon consumption:
(1) By increasing its intensity algebraically. (~2) By increasing
its duration if positive. (3) By diminishing its 'duration if
negative. Let us consider positive consumption first.

As in the case of production, consumption may be monotonous
or varied. A case of monotonous consumption is represented in
Fig. 8, (2). It resembles the similar curve of production, but,
of course, it ranges much higher. The curve shown is merely
typical — some curves would be steeper — others would cross
the X axis; nor is such a thing inconsistent with acts of positive
consumption, since such acts are merely those designed to pro
duce happiness — they may fail in their design. Curve (2)
simply illustrates what is familiar to everyone, that successive
repetitions of the same cause of happiness normally result in a
progressively diminishing amount of happiness. Satiation is
approached relatively rapidly — we tire of things. This is true

CHAP. VII] SECOND FACTOR OF HAPPINESS

295

whether the cause continually excites the sight, the hearing, the
taste, the smell, the touch, or even thought or emotion. Examples
will occur to anyone. The characteristic of human nature ex
pressed by this curve is generally referred to in the familiar
observation that pleasure palls. Of course, it is not pleasure,
but consumptive acts, which pall. Pleasure is always pleasur
able; but the reiteration of the same cause of pleasure does not
continue to produce the same pleasurable effect. This is what
people mean when they say they are tired of pleasure — they are
not tired of pleasure, but of a particular cause of it. If they
abandon a certain cause of pleasure for one normally perhaps a

FATIGUE CURVES OF CONSUMPTION.
Consecutive consumptive hours

I 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 II 12 13 14 15 16

o

•o

1°

f-l

1-2

V>

-3

Fig.8.

cause of pain, it is commonly because, under the particular cir
cumstances, the second cause gives them more pleasure than
the first, though normally the reverse is true.

When the causes of pleasure are varied — when different kinds
of pleasure succeed one another, instead of the same kind, the
diminishing return in pleasure is less marked. Satiation is ap
proached less rapidly. Curve (1) in Fig. 8 represents such a
succession of consumptive acts, though the intensity is too great
to be typical.

Of course, a succession of pleasures might produce all sorts of
fluctuations in a curve. That shown is intended to represent

296 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT I [BOOK II

simply the effect of a succession of varied positive consump
tive acts, which, if experienced separately, would produce the
same average intensity of pleasure. It is intended to ex
press the fact that even varied pleasures pall, though less
rapidly than monotonous ones. Indeed, it is a familiar observa
tion that we appreciate pleasure more keenly after a period of
indifference, or of pain. Here again we mean that the same act
or cause will produce more pleasure when preceded by pain than
when preceded by pleasure. We appreciate the cause more
keenly — not the pleasure more keenly. It would be absurd to
say that the same pleasure gives us more or less pleasure than it
gives. This would be a contradiction, since it would be sayino-
a pleasure was greater or less than itself. What we mean is that
the same cause of pleasure yields more pleasure in the first case
than in the second. The characteristic of human nature thus

expressed^has led some philosophers to a very absurd doctrine

the doctrine, namely, that pleasure is impossible without pain
or pain without pleasure. They tell us that the one is recog
nized simply by contrast with the other. Were this true it would
be impossible to experience either, for when should we be°-in ?
A newly born infant could feel no pain because it had not al
ready felt pleasure ; it could feel no pleasure because it had not
already felt pain. Thus it could not begin to feel either There
fore it could never feel either. The notion that scalding water
would not hurt a person who had not felt pleasure is a highly
speculative one. Despite the absurdity of the doctrine there
are not wanting those who maintain the beneficence of pain on
the ground that without it we could have no pleasure, and thus
convince themselves that the way to escape being miserable is to
be miserable.

Another doctrine allied to this one is that known as the law of
compensation — the notion that by some occult process or other
the pain and pleasure in the life of each individual balance one
another, and the same surplus of happiness — positive or nega
tive - is attained, however we may attempt to alter it. This is a
famous view of Emerson, though true to the idealism of ob
scurity, he does not state it thus definitely. He seems to regard
it as a sort of law of nature and attempts to establish it by the

±lfr rth°d' ^dli»Sthat ^ethod much as a hod-carrier
would handle a scalpel. That compensation is frequently to be
observed m the world there is no need to deny, but hat it is
universal, or even common, there is no reason to believe The
doctrine simply leads to fatalism, for if such an inexorable £

CHAP. VII] SECOND FACTOK OF HAPPINESS 297

lation between pleasure and pain exists, then, indeed, it is
useless for man to attempt the betterment of his own condition
or that of his fellows; for should he succeed in eliminating a
certain amount of pain, he would, perforce, have eliminated its
equivalent of pleasure at the same time, and should he succeed
in producing a given amount of pleasure, it would be of no
service, since in so doing, he must produce its equivalent of
pain. Fortunately we do not need to regard these speculations
seriously — they are not derived from experience, but have been
suggested by the general effect of pain in increasing our sensi
tiveness to pleasurable stimuli, and the corresponding effect of
pleasure in increasing our sensitiveness to painful stimuli.

The two laws, or rather two examples of the same law, we
have noticed, may be called the fatigue laws of monotonous and
varied consumption respectively; they correspond closely to the
similar laws of fatigue of production, and, indeed, result from
the same characteristic of the nervous system — a decreasingly
pleasurable, or increasingly painful, reaction to successive
stimuli, the change being more rapid in the case of similar than
of dissimilar stimuli.

When we approach negative consumption, matters are not so
simple and there are no laws of production corresponding, since
negative production could only mean destruction — a process of
maladjustment instead of adjustment, retarding instead of pro
moting the production of complete desiderata ; and hence not
normally useful at all. So long as men have needs, however,
negative consumption will be useful.

The first point we should observe is that man's capacity for
pain is much greater than his capacity for pleasure — that he
can experience intensities of pain to which no intensity of
pleasure of which he is capable are equivalent. For example,
what intensity of pleasure, lasting say for one minute, would a
person be willing to exchange for the pain involved in having
his hand held in boiling water for one minute. It is doubtful
whether a duration of one thousand or even several thousand
minutes of the most intense pleasure of which he is capable
would be equivalent to one minute of such pain. Tin's means
that man is at least several thousand times more capable of pain
than of pleasure. It would, perhaps, be fruitless to seek a
reason for this unfortunate difference in capacity, but we may
incidentally direct the attention of those who think they see
evidences of beneficence in the operations of nature to a con
sideration suggested by it. As already remarked, it is a fact

298 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [BOOK II

open to the observation of anyone that there are normally many
thousands of ways in which a man can produce pain in himself
or others to one in which he can produce pleasure. The average
intensity of pain which he can produce being thousands of times
greater than the average intensity of pleasure, his opportunity
for pain is thus not only thousands but millions of times greater
than his opportunity for pleasure, and a disproportion the
same in kind, but probably less in degree, obtains among
other sentient beings. Can we appropriately call a universe in
which such a condition obtains beneficent? Can we perceive
beneficence immanent in its design? If so, what term should
we apply to a universe where the capacities of sentient beings
for pleasure and pain were reversed ? Where man's opportunity
for pleasure was millions of times his opportunity for pain?
Where it was as easy to produce pleasure and as difficult to pro
duce pain as in our world it is to do the reverse? Would it not
be more appropriate to say that in such a universe beneficence
was immanent, and if so, how can we withhold the term ma
leficent from a universe in which these obviously beneficent re
lations are reversed ? We do not propose to speculate on this
matter, since speculation would lead nowhere, but we commend
it to the attention of those who claim that the universe and its
laws are intrinsically beneficent.

In a succession of long-continued painful stimuli the same
ettects oi fatigue are often to be observed as result from the
application of pleasurable stimuli. Long continuance of pain
results in numbness or insensitiveness more or less marked and
this is particularly so of monotonous pain. The fatigue effects
at pain are not so uniform as those of pleasure however Con
tinuous pain, whether monotonous or varied, may induce second
ary nervous effects, which result in marked intensification more
than counterbalancing the effects of numbness, and these second
ary effects may fluctuate in any degree. Two effects unknown
in the case of pleasurable sensations may be noticed, resulting
directly from man's greater capacity for pain than for pleasure
Severe pain may and if sufficiently severe, in fact does* lead to
Consciousness thus curing itself, and severe pain long con-
med may result in destructive changes in the nervous system
which permanently affect the sensitiveness or capacity of the

Sf±LnOTl ° f ^^ °r I*6" When the e^tic limit of

the system has been passed complete recovery is impossible
Insanity, resulting from long illness, or intense ef
an example of this effect, *

CHAP. VII] SECOND FACTOK OF HAPPINESS

299

would, however, be out of place here. To the science of medi
cine, whose application consists in considerable part in acts of
negative altruistic consumption, such matters are of importance,
but in the formulation of political precepts only the most uni
versal or marked features may be considered.

Two other characteristics of human nature should be mentioned
here. The effect of pleasure and pain on memories and expec
tations. It is not always, but it is usually, true that pleasant
experiences are those which it gives most pleasure to recall,
whereas painful experiences are painful to recall. Hence the
retrospective effect of pleasurable acts is an increase — of pain
ful acts a decrease in pleasure. This same result is much more
marked when we come to anticipatory effects. The anticipation
of pleasure is itself a pleasure, often greater in truth than the
realization, and the same may be said of pain. These antici
patory effects should not be disregarded in estimating the pre
sumable surplus of happiness to be derived from a given
experience. Indeed, no small proportion of the total happiness
experienced by mankind is that of anticipation, though realiza
tion by no means always follows. Nevertheless, exclusive of the
effects of disappointment, such pleasurable anticipations,
whether fulfilled or not. are an unmitigated benefit, and were
mankind denied the pleasure they afford the total surplus would
be much smaller than it is. Offsetting these pleasurable antici
pations are painful ones. Anxiety and dejection concerning the
future constitute no small part of the sum total of the misery
of the human race.

By the efficiency of consumption I mean the ratio of the
happiness produced by a given amount of wealth to the amount
of production required to complete it: so that the efficiency of
consumption varies directly as the quantity of happiness and
inversely as the production necessary to cause it. By the con
sumptive power or capacity of a given individual, or assemblage
thereof, I mean the amount of happiness achievable by him or
them by the consumption of a given amount of wealth in a
given time: i. e., the rate of production of happiness.

The distinctions we have discussed and the principles we have
undertaken to establish (for so obvious are they that to point
them out is to establish them) will be of most service as guides
to political conduct if applied to the determination of the value
of an individual life as a means of contributing to the output
of happiness of society. Therefore we must next inquire under
what conditions the life of an individual is self-supporting and

300 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAET I [BOOK II

by what laws the margin of self-support is governed. It may not
be denied that it is of more importance that acts should be self-
supporting than that lives should be. Acts which are not self-
supporting cannot yield happiness, but lives not self-supporting
may. The life of an individual which shows a negative sur
plus may still be a useful life on account of service done to
others — and on the other hand, the life of an individual which
shows a positive surplus may be an injurious life on account of
disservice done to others. The acts of the first are self-support
ing though the life is not — the life of the second is self-sup
porting though the acts are not. It is nevertheless clear that if
we consider an average individual — a fair sample of a com
munity — that his life must be self-supporting, or the com
munity will yield a deficit instead of a surplus of happiness.
Individuals may be average in many differing respects. If the
total surplus of happiness of a community for a given period
be divided by the number of members in the community, the
resulting surplus will be that of the average member for that
period, and it is an individual having this surplus to whom I
refer when I speak of an average individual. Strictly speaking,
such an individual is an ideal one : the happiness curve of no
specifiable member of the community will coincide with that of
such an average individual, but the average integral of happi
ness of all curves will coincide with its integral. "A community
whose average member produces a negative surplus (unless it is
the means of giving rise to one which produces a positive
surplus) is entirely useless — less useful, in fact, than none
it all. A community of trees or stones would yield a preferable
output; since at least it would not be negative. If we multiply
the margin of self-support, over any period, of the average
member of a community by the number of members, we shall
obtain the total output for that period, and it is to make the
total output of society, which includes all communities a
maximum, which is or should be the object of all acts, whether
: individuals or aggregates of individuals, whether of men or
ot nations. The problem before us may now be stated thus-
Assuming the first and third factors of happiness to remain
constant, how may the environment be adjusted to the average
individual so as to make the margin of self-support of his life^a
maximum ? Or, if we please, we may take the average family
as our unit instead of the average individual, and the reasoning
which follows concerning the average individual may, without
essential change, be applied to the average family as well

CHAP. VII] SECOND FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 301

Now a day consists of just twenty-four hours and, on the
average eight of these hours are spent in sleep. This means
that whatever happiness is to be turned out by the average in
dividual in an average day must be during the sixteen hours of
his waking life. This waking life must consist of voluntary
acts and they all must belong in one of three classes They
are either (1) Productive, (2) Consumptive, or (3) Neither.
The third class of course are useless. Hence they should always
be avoided : that is, life should be confined to productive and
consumptive acts exclusively. The problem thus narrows itself
to the determination of how life should be divided between these
two classes of acts. This is a function of four magnitudes : (1)
The productive efficiency. (2) The productive capacity. (6)
The consumptive efficiency. (4) The consumptive capacity.
We have already discussed separately the chief laws ol nature
and of human nature which affect these magnitudes: we shall
now apply them to the case of the average individual and ascer
tain their ao-o-reo-ate effect upon his output of happiness per day.
For this purpose let us inquire first how happy an average
individual would be who consumed no wealth at all per day.
The answer is easy. He would be neither happy nor unhappy —
he would be dead. There is a minimum rate of consumption lor
an average individual below which he cannot go and continue to
live Suppose he consumed at this minimum rate, would he
be happy? Obviously not. He would be on the verge of star
vation would have just enough clothes and shelter to keep him
alive and would be in almost perpetual and very keen misery.
Suppose now we increase his rate of consumption by equal in
crements Suppose, to fix our ideas, the minimum consumption
to be at the rate of $50.00 per year and we add successively
increments of $10.00 a year. Will his misery be diminished m
equal decree for each increment? No, the first increment will
diminish it more than the second, the second more than the
third the third more than the fourth, etc. Tf we continue
addino- increments we shall gradually increase his opportunity lor
satisfying his needs, and when the more imperative of these are
satisfied,' he will begin to gratify the least expensive^ of his
tastes A point will finally be reached when the definite integral
of happiness for an average day will be zero, and at that point
he will no longer produce a negative surplus. From this
point henceforward each increment of rate of consumption will
lead to an increased positive surplus of happiness, but the laws
of his nature will still operate to make the return of happiness

302 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART i [BOOK II

for each successive equal increment of consumptive rate less than
that yielded by the preceding increment. The time »il! eventu
ally come when an increment of consumption will yield a very
small return in increased happiness - in other words it win
take a great increase in the rate of wealth consumption to effect
a moderate increase in the rate of happiness production. This
general tendency to a diminishing return may be illustrated bv
comparing the effects of adding a dollar a day to the waves of
a man who already receives a dollar a day, and adding tTe same
amoun to the salary of one who already receives a mm ed Tl
lars a day. The return in increased happiness or decreased un
happmess would be much greater in the first than in the secon",
case. Or, suppose we diminish the wages of both by fifty

" •

ill'lf

j ~ "-' jj. v-r i, vx u. tiltlL t UfX'Sf'FIT

CHAP. VII] SECOND FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 303

the average labor intensity in the community to be 2.5 pathon-
minutes per hour — thus during an average hour of labor,
the average intensity of pain experienced is ^ pathon; and
we shall further assume that the average efficiency of conversion
and the condition of the arts are such that the labor cost of
any given production measures the amount of that production.
We shall assume the average member of this community to live
in such an environment, and to have an efficiency of conversion
such, that his consumption per hour of the desiderata produced
by 2 minutes labor of average intensity will just suffice to keep
him alive. We shall assume that the relation of his rate of con
sumption to its return in happiness is such that if the labor
cost required to produce the desiderata consumed in one average
consuming hour be represented by abscissae, and the definite
integral of happiness for that hour be represented by ordinates,
that Fig. 9 will represent the relation between the rate of con
sumption of wealth and the return in happiness resulting there
from. That is, this curve will show how tlie consumptive
power varies with the consumptive rate. Now, in every com
munity at a particular period there must be some average
labor cost of wealth production, and there must be some average
rate of happiness output resulting from the consumption of
wealth so produced ; hence there must be some definite relation
between the two. I ask the reader to inspect Fig. 9 with care
and decide whether in general form he believes it to fairly
represent the relation as it actually exists in normal com
munities, or whether some very dissimilar curve would represent
it more fairly. If it is acknowledged that this is as fair a
representation as our ignorance will permit us to attain, then
we may justly claim that the conclusions we draw from the
hypothetical relation expressed by it may with propriety be
applied to actual communities, on the principle that an ap
proximate solution of a problem is better than none at all. We
must either accept and act upon the most probable relation
suggestible, or we must accept and act upon some relation less
probable, nor can we escape the dilemma by inaction, since this
is but a special case of action. Once acknowledge that we have
here a substantially correct expression of the relation sought,
and we shall be prepared to reveal relationships of far-reaching
import, for the curve in question represents the simple logarith
mic function: y^log^x. 1.2 is selected as a base, because
the corresponding curve is a convenient one by which to illus
trate the appropriate relations.

304

TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [BooK II

At this point I must beg the non-mathematical reader not to
grow impatient. The relation assumed is merely for the sake of
definiteness. The law expressed by the above equation is one
which satisfies the conditions postulated as determining the re
lation between given successive increments of happiness, and the

CURVE A.

Labor time in hours

123

Labor cost in semi-pathedon-minutes

I 4 6 8 10 12

5

24 26

Fig. 9.

equal increments of rate of consumption of which they are
functions, viz., that equal increments of consumptive rate pro
duce (algebraically) diminishing increments of happiness,
positive or negative. We, of course, have no warrant for assert
ing that in any actual community the exact relation between
these increments is that represented by the logarithmic function

CHAP. VII] SECOND FACTOK OF HAPPINESS 305

cited. All we can say is that the two resemble one another
sufficiently for our purpose. The figure represents the relation
we are considering as clearly to the non-mathematical as to the
mathematical reader, and if carefully inspected will, in con
nection with Figs. 10 and 11, serve to make definite the whole
subject of the relation of the production and consumption of
wealth to utility.

No word is used more by economists than the word " utility,"
yet with typical logomania they never give it a definite mean
ing. With such an omission how can they hope to construct a
useful science of wealth ? Indeed, without an understanding of
the relations about to be explained, they can no more compre
hend the relation of wealth to utility than a mill manager who
does not know the utility of yarn can comprehend the relation
of spinning to weaving, or an engineer who does not know the
utility of coal can comprehend the relation of its production to
its consumption.

The law expressed by Curve A we shall call the Law of Dimin
ishing Returns of Happiness. Distances along the X axis rep
resent the labor cost of the desiderata whose consumption in one
hour produces the surplus of happiness represented by corre
sponding distances along the Y axis. Both are expressed in
semi-pathedon-minutes, but it must not be forgotten that labor
cost is negative in sign (See p. 278), and as we have assumed it
to be 2.5 pathon-minutes per hour, it is obvious that 5 divisions
on the diagram represent one hour of average labor. A unit one-
half that established in Chapter 3 is employed here because it
happens to be convenient. To convert quantities of happiness
expressed in this unit into quantities expressed in pathedon-
minutes, we need but divide by two.

It is clear that the happiness derived from the consumption of
wealth is not a function of the unhappiness involved in produc
ing it. The pleasure derived from smoking a cigar is the same
whether the cigar is made by a machine or by the hand labor
of tired women. The relation brought out in Curve A is one be
tween happiness and rate of wealth consumption, and labor cost
is involved only because we measure amount of wealth by
amount of production, i. e., in terms of the labor cost required
to produce it. But as wealth to be consumed must first be pro
duced it is obvious that in estimating the total effect of wealth
upon happiness, we cannot confine ourselves to the effect of its
consumption — we must not ignore the effect upon happiness of
its production — that is, we must, in our estimate, consider the
20

306 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT I [Boon II

total — not the partial — effect. Curve A shows the relation
between happiness and consumption; what we want is an ex
pression of the relation between happiness and production and
consumption. In order more clearly to reveal this relationship,
we shall derive from Curve A a second curve by subtracting from
each successive value of y the corresponding value of x. Thus
we derive Curve B whose equation is w = log1>2x-x. The sig
nificance of tliis curve becomes apparent by a consideration of
the mode of its derivation. Any point (p) on Curve A fixes one
abscissa and one ordinate; it represents two things: (1) A con
sumption of wealth per hour — always positive. (2) A surplus
of happiness — positive or negative. Now a consumption of
wealth involves a production of wealth, and production involves
labor, and labor involves labor cost. Hence the total effect of
the acts whose consumptive effect is represented by the ordinate
at point p will be made up of said consumptive 'effect and the
productive cause or labor cost in the absence of which the con
sumption would have been impossible. Average labor cost being
negative, the total effect on happiness must, in general, be less
than the consumptive effect, and less by the exact amount of
the labor cost expended in producing the desiderata whose con
sumption results in the surplus y. Hence the total effect is
y~x. Thus the ordinate y of any point on Curve A becomes
equal to y~x on Curve B.

Pour points on this curve are of especial significance: (1) ft,
the point of minimum consumption — the point at which life
is just sustained, with a resulting output of - 10 pathedon-
minutes per consuming hour. (2) b, the minimum point of
self-support, or the point at which combined production and
consumption is just self-supporting. (3) c, the point of ap
parent maximum efficiency, or the point at which the margin
of self-support is a maximum, provided the relation between
the producing and consuming ratio indicated in the curve, is
maintained. (4) d, the maximum point of self-support, or the
point beyond which combined production and consumption is
no longer self-supporting on account of the negative integral
resulting from production exceeding the positive integral re
sulting from consumption.

The consuming ratio is fixed by the law of diminishing re
turns of happiness in conformity with the following principles,
f a community, avoiding useless acts, divides its time between
production and consumption, and consumes at the rate denoted
by c, then it must produce at the rate required to sustain that

CHAP. VII] SECOND FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 307

rate of consumption. That is, for every hour of consumption,
about one hour and six minutes of production will be required.
This fixes the producing ratio at .523, and the consuming ratio
therefore at .477.

mttlllimiim.mrni.inn , , , nmnin Him m n • - - - —

Excess of semi-pathedon-minutes per consuming hour

The production and consumption of wealth by the average in
dividual between the points a and 6 and from d onwards is not

308 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT I [BOOK II

only useless as a completed process, it is harmful, and at points
near a and far beyond d, exceedingly harmful. A community
whose average member produces and consumes wealth under
such circumstances will be a useless community — it will pro
duce less happiness than no community at all. The sum total
of life in such a community will not be worth living; the sum
of its acts will not be self-supporting. It is equally obvious that
the production and consumption of wealth between the points
6 and d will be self-supporting, and the life of a community
whose average member consumes between these points will be
worth living. The zone between a and b I shall call the zone of
underconsumption. That beyond d, the zone of over consump
tion,. That between b and df the zone of self-support.

We may calculate the daily or yearly output of happiness of
a hypothetical individual consuming at maximum efficiency
from Curve B, on the assumption that the margin of self-sup
port, which is apparently a maximum at the point c, is really a
maximum there. Doing this we discover that, on the assump
tion of sixteen hours of sentience per day, the daily output will
be about 14.6 hedon-minutes, and the yearly output about 5,329
hedon-minutes. But this calculation assumes that, under the
conditions postulated, a consuming ratio of .477 is the best, and
there is no warrant for this assumption. Is it not possible that
by diminishing the rate of consumption we could so increase the
duration of consumption which it would take a given labor cost
to supply, that it would more than offset the loss in intensity?
It is clear that such a result could not be obtained by increas
ing the rate of consumption, since this would diminish the
duration which a given labor cost could supply, and we know
from the law of diminishing returns, that for each successive
increment of consumptive rate the corresponding increment of
happiness is increased in less proportion. Hence by increasing
the consumptive rate we should get a diminished, instead of an
increased, return. Suppose, however, we diminish the consump-
/tive rate. If this will increase the daily average output, then it
is certain that the real point of maximum efficiency will be
found somewhere between b and c. Can we ascertain fust where
in our hypothetical case? Yes, this may be ascertained; but
first it will be necessary to consider a separate problem, that,
namely, of the effect upon happiness of the distribution of
productive and consumptive acts.

Assume two individuals A and B, of average productive and
consumptive capacity, who between them are to produce and

CHAP. VII] SECOND FACTOK OF HAPPINESS 309

consume all the wealth of a given domain. Assume the efficiency
of production and consumption to be such that the point of ap
parent maximum efficiency is attained when the wealth produced
in one hour is consumed in one hour. Assume that both A and
B sleep eight hours of the twenty-four, thus leaving sixteen
hours in which all production and consumption must be accom
plished. Assume all the production to be assigned to A and all
the consumption to B. (For the sake of simplicity we shall
assume this, although, of course, B must consume some of the
time in order to live.) Under these conditions, A labors sixteen
hours a day and B has sixteen hours a day of leisure in which to
consume the wealth produced by A. Thus it would seem to be
possible, perhaps, to attain good economy, because the wealth
produced in sixteen hours will be consumed in sixteen hours,
that is, the wealth produced in one hour will be consumed in
one hour, which would seem to satisfy the requirement of con
sumption at the point of apparent maximum efficiency. Were
production and consumption non-accelerative operations this
arrangement might give the desired result. If, for example, the
intensity of production is and remains two pathon-minutes per
hour and the intensity of consumption is and remains four
hedon-minutes per hour, we could represent A's curve of hap
piness by a straight line 2 units below the X axis, and B's by a
straight line 4 units above. A's daily deficit would thus be 32
pathedon-minutes and B's daily surplus would be 64 pathedon-
minutes, the combined surplus being 32 pathedon-minutes.
But both production and consumption are accelerative opera
tions, as has already been made manifest in our discussion of the
effects of fatigue. The "average labor cost" referred to in
Figs. 9 and 10 is the average under given conditions of dis
tribution of leisure, and it will be convenient to consider these
conditions the most favorable ones. Under the conditions as
sumed in our example, both the average labor cost and the
average happiness per hour of consumption will be changed, the
first increasing, the second decreasing. Assuming the effects of
fatigue alone to be operative, the happiness curves of A and B
will" be something like those shown in Figures 7 and 8, No. 4 in
Fig. 7 (p. 280) perhaps representing A's curve, and No. 2 in
Fig. 8 (p. 295) representing B's.

Thus it is clear that if the laws of fatigue alone determine the
(negative) acceleration of the return in happiness from produc
tion and consumption, that the most economic policy to adopt in
order to achieve the greatest surplus of happiness will be to

310 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT I [BOOK II

make A and B share equally in production and consumption,
each producing for eight hours and consuming for eight hours.
In addition to the effects of fatigue, however, there are three
other factors which must be considered as affecting the problem :
(1) (a) The effect of labor in increasing the efficiency of sub
sequent consumption, and (&) The effect of consumption in de
creasing the labor cost of subsequent production. The first is
only effective when labor is not excessive. Long and con
tinuous labor has the opposite effect, and induces such fatigue
that the laborer is rendered almost incapable of any intensity
of positive consumption beyond that involved in resting.
Moderate labor increases the intensity of consumption. Im
moderate labor decreases it. Hence this factor affords a double
reason for an equal distribution of leisure. Consumption, on
the other hand, breeds more than the normal distaste for pro
duction only when too continuous, and the effect is merely
temporary. (2) The effects of retrospection and anticipation
— particularly the latter. (3) The effect of duration of pro
duction in progressively decreasing the output of wealth per unit
of time. It is notorious that a laborer cannot produce ten times
as much in ten hours as he can in one hour; the effect of
fatigue, indeed, is not only to increase the labor intensity of
each succeeding hour, but to diminish the output of wealth in
a similar manner, thus diminishing the efficiency of production
in two ways: by decreasing the numerator and increasing the
denominator. It is superfluous to comment upon the effect of
these characteristics of human nature on the principle we have
mentioned. Although exceptional instances might be adduced,
it is obvious that, in general, the influence of all of these factors
serves only to render the contrast between the two cases of dis
tribution of leisure more emphatic. The existence of these
human attributes furnishes additional reason for belief that,
under the conditions specified, an equal distribution of produc
tion and consumption is the most economic distribution, and
hence that units of average productive and consumptive capacity
should produce the equivalent of what they consume; that is,
the labor cost of the desiderata consumed should be equal to
that of the desiderata produced. Individuals or aggregates
thereof who produce the equivalent of what they consume we
shall call self-sufficing or self-sufficient. As production is not a
spontaneous operation, society must, as a whole, be self-sufficient.
Equality in the distribution of production and consumption is
just, however, only on the assumption that productive and con-

CHAP. VII] SECOND FACTOK OF HAPPINESS 311

sumptive capacity is equal. Individuals are not, in general, con
venient units of equal productive and consumptive capacity —
children, for example, have generally a less productive and
greater consumptive capacity than mature persons, and hence,
on this ground alone, should have a greater consuming and a
less producing ratio. The same thing may be said of old
persons, though it may be a matter of doubt whether their con
sumptive capacity is greater than the average. A family con
stitutes the most convenient unit of average productive and
consumptive capacity. Hence it may be taken as a general rule
of political conduct that families should be self-sufficient.
Marked deviation from this rule is exceedingly uneconomic. It
leads to the division of society into two classes — a laboring,
and a leisure class — the first producing more than they con
sume in order that the second may consume more than they
produce; the first consuming in the zone of underconsumption
in order that the second may consume in the zone of overcon-
sumption ; the first submitting to a consuming ratio too low in
order that the second may enjoy one that is too high. The
contrast between self-sufficiency and the lack of it becomes
vastly greater when say five million persons produce what fifty
thousand consume than in the very mild case of inequality con
sidered in our example, in which one person produces what one
other consumes.

Let us now return to the question proposed on page <
we assume that our units are self-sufficient, the question is
theoretically answerable , but not otherwise. Indeed, we were
able to calculate the daily or yearly output of happiness from
Curve B. only by tacitly making this assumption. In the follow
ing solution we shall confine our reasoning to an average in
dividual in order to make the explanation uniform with that of
Curve B but it more appropriately applies to an average family.
The abscissae of the B curve (Fig. 10) represent both labor
cost and labor time, the unit of the second being equal to five
units of the first as measured along the X axis. As each
individual produces the equivalent of what he consumes, and as
his waking life is divided between production and consumption,
the wealth produced during his hours of production must be
equivalent to that consumed during his hours of consumption.
His total output of happiness for any sample period of time
then will be that produced during the producing portion plus
that produced during the consuming portion. Let T be such
a. sample period; then for the condition represented by any point

312 TECHNOLOGY OP HAPPINESS — PART I [B

OOK

p on the B curve, the consuming ratio will be -A_ f the pro-

X X + 0

ducing ratio will therefore be j^r . The consuming period
will then be —^ hours, the producing period -^— hours. The

intensity for the consuming period will be logl-2X pathedon-

minutes per hour, and for the producing period will be --2.5
pathedon-minutes per hour, or the output for the consuming

period will be 2.5T [~~ ] , and for the producing period will
be ~*2-5T The total effect theref°re will be the

rem of these, or 2.5T ^l^l-f] pathedon-minutes. That is
L x + o J

for any sample period T there will be a multiplier 2.5 A0^*"*

X 4- 5

which multiplied into T expressed in hours, will show the sur-
is or deficit during that period. Let us call this multiplier z •
then expressing the result in semi-pathedon-minutes, instead of
pathedon-minutes, we have:

logU2x-x
.2(x + 5) .
Plotting this equation we obtain Curve C (Fig 11)

The abscissae indicate: (1) Labor time, fiv"e divisions being
equal to an hour, and (2) Labor cost, two divisions being equal
to a pathon-mmute. The ordinates indicate the average out-
t per ^hour of sentient life, assuming the wealth produced in
x hours is consumed in one hour, and that life is divided between
production and consumption. Each point on the curve therefore
Cresses a particular consuming ratio. Thus to discover the
surpvus during any period having a given consuming ratio, we
need only multiply it, expressed in hours, by the ordinate cor
ding to the given consuming ratio. The result will be
J total surplus or deficit for the period. The curve indicates
Jarly the points of minimum consumption, and minimum and
maximum self-support, and these are situated as in Curve B
t needs but a glance to make plain that the point of maxi
mum efficiency has receded and is now at about the point x =
3.8 instead of at x = 5.48: thus the intensity per consuming

CHAP. VII] SECOND FACTOK OF HAPPINESS

313

Semi-pathedon-minutes per sentient hour

314 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT I [BOOK II

hour has fallen from 9.30 to 7.28 semi-pathedon-minutes per
hour, but the consuming ratio has risen from .477 to .570. The
point x = 3.8 then is the point of real maximum efficiency of
adaptation — the point at which the margin of self-support is a
maximum — and the corresponding rate of consumption per
capita per hour is obviously the just one for the community in
question as a whole — it is the rate which Justice would seek to
attain.

Calculating the output of happiness for an individual con
suming at the point of real maximum efficiency, we find it is
16 hedon-minutes per day, or 5,840 hedon-minutes per year,
as compared with 14.6 hedon-minutes per day, and 5,329 hedon-
minutes per year when calculated from the point of apparent
maximum efficiency — a gain of nearly ten per cent.

Efficiency of consumption has been defined as the ratio of the
happiness value resulting from the consumption of given desid
erata to the amount of production which they represent. Meas
uring production in positive units, the maximum efficiency of
consumption in the example before us will be 1.94. If we
select any other point in the zone of self-support, this ratio will
be positive and greater than 1, the greater ratio showing the
better efficiency. In the zone of underconsumption it will
be negative the greater ratio showing the poorer efficiency;
in the zone of overconsumption it will be positive and less than
1, the less ratio showing the poorer efficiency.

The accuracy of Curve C. will, of course, be less at points far
removed from the point of maximum efficiency than at points
near to it, because the intensity of labor, assumed for purposes
of simplicity to be a constant, would, in fact, be greater than
said constant at points to the right of c, and slightly less at
points between & and c. At points near a the labor cost of pro
duction would obviously be very high — not from the intrinsic
unpleasantness of labor — but from the physical and mental
suffering incident to defective consumption. For the proxi
mate solution which we seek, these sources of inaccuracy may
be neglected.

It goes without saying that the same amount of wealth can
be consumed in an indefinite number of ways, 1,000 persons
consuming wealth at a rate per capita corresponding to the
point x = .38 and 10 consuming at the point x = 38. would
consume the same amount of wealth as 100 at the point of
maximum efficiency, but while in the first case the production
and consumption would result in a deficit of 42,560 pathedon-

CHAP. VII] SECOND FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 315

minutes per day, in the second in a deficit of 150 pathedon-
minutes per day, it would in the third case result in a surplus
of 1,600 pathedon-minutes per day. Indeed any departure
from the point of maximum efficiency must be in some degree
uneconomic,, i. e., unjust.

Curve C is particularly useful as a means of illustrating the
importance in the economics of happiness of adjusting the pro
ducing to the consuming ratio. In the absence of such adjust
ment the very highest efficiencies of production and consumption
are futile, since these efficiencies take no account of the rela
tion of happiness to the great independent variable — time.
The quotient of the consuming by the producing ratio I shall
denominate the indicative ratio, because its magnitude is an
index of the position of an industrial community in the scale
of civilization. It is an exponent of the degree 'in which com
mon sense governs the conduct of the body politic. So long as
average labor remains unpleasant, low values of the indicative
ratio practically preclude a positive surplus of happiness.

If we assume a community whose average intensity of labor
is q, then in order to attain to self-support, the average intensity
of consumption for an indicative ratio of \ must be 7 q, of |
must be 3 q, of 1 must be q, of 3 must be £ q, etc. ; and even
such relations as these hold good only under the most favorable
assumption — the assumption, namely, that the wasted ratio
is zero. As consumption is in large part negative, it is clear
that, with low indicative ratios, there is little prospect of self-
supporting communities. With the poor efficiency of conversion
to be found in typical communities of our time, a systematic
working day of eight hours effectively precludes any prospect
of self-support, since it requires an intensity of consumption
more than equivalent to that of production — in fact, consid
erably more, since the actual duration of production is neces
sarily in excess of that of the systematic production in
cluded in the working day. In every industrial community in
the world, the average intensity of consumption, with the excep
tion of eating hours, is slight, if not negative.

In closing this chapter we must point out the vital bearing
of the doctrines here advanced upon the general belief that jus
tice demands some sort of equality in the distribution of happi
ness. Attention was called to this belief on page 146, and if we
are correct in our technology the view is well founded. It is
simply a recognition of the law of diminishing returns of happi
ness, This law is strictly comparable to the law of dwindling

316 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [Boon II

returns of labor (p. 281). If we have the labor of 100 men
available, a greater crop can be raised if we apply that labor to
100 acres than if we confine it to one, for though the labor of
100 men on one acre will result in a greater crop than the labor
of one on the same area, it will by no means be greater in the
ratio of 100 to 1 : whereas if the labor of the 100 is distributed
over 100 acres, the return will be greater in the ratio of 100
to 1. Similarly the return in happiness from the consumption
of say $1,000,000 worth of wealth in a year will be greater if it
is distributed among 100 persons than if it is all consumed by
one, although the consumption by that one, of the whole $1,000,-
000, will result in greater happiness than the consumption of
Y^-Q-of that amount. On the other hand, the labor of 100 men
may be too much dispersed as well as too much restricted.
Were 100 men required to cultivate 10,000 acres, the attempt
would result in little or no return, since they could not cover
so much ground and do the work required with sufficient thor
oughness to make their labor self-supporting. The crop would
necessarily be so neglected as to be worth less than the cost of
cultivation. Under such circumstances a deficit would be real
ized. Similarly were the consumption of $1,000,000 worth of
wealth in one year distributed among 10,000 persons, it would
be too much dispersed to be self-supporting and would force
the whole community into the zone of underconsumption. Such
a community would be worse than none, since its output would
be negative. It is unnecessary to dwell further upon these obvi
ous relations. There is the best of justification for the all but
universal conviction that happiness should be equally distrib
uted, since its unequal distribution means, in general, the un
equal distribution of its causes, and this in turn involves bad effi
ciency and a consequent diminished return of happiness. It is
wealth — opportunity for happiness — which should be equally
distributed, since any other distribution will result in a dimin
ished surplus of happiness, and only that alternative among
those physically possible can be right which will presumably
result in the greatest surplus of happiness. Hence unequal
distribution must, in general, be wrong. Thus the theory of
utility founds the doctrine of equal opportunity and equal dis
tribution of wealth upon something more substantial than a
sentiment — it founds it upon a reason. The doctrine is di
rectly deducible from the definition of right and the principle
of diminishing returns of happiness.

The foregoing discussion of the relation between production

CHAP. VII] SECOND FACTOK OF HAPPINESS 317

and consumption is perhaps rather involved, but its bearing
upon the economy of happiness is too vital to admit of super
ficial treatment. Were human beings not subject to the law of
diminishing returns of happiness, the relation of wealth to util
ity would not be what it is. No reason would be assignable
for an equal distribution of wealth or of leisure or for any other
distribution, and to sacrifice the interest of all to the interest of
one would be as consistent with utility as to sacrifice the interest
of one to the interest of all.

In essaying the solution of the problem presented in this
chapter the methods of technology have been adhered to. Should
we care to carry out the analogy in detail it would not be
difficult to demonstrate that the equations herein applied to
human beings would be equally applicable to steam boilers,
provided the relation of said boilers to steam generation was
the same as that of human beings to happiness generation. I
am aware that in this mode of treating an essentially moral
question many critics will find a deplorable deficiency of vague
ness. They will shake their heads wisely and declare that hap
piness cannot be measured with rule and compass, that morals
and mathematics will not mix, that " you cannot treat these
matters in that way, don't you know." This unspecific style of
criticism is more familiar than convincing. The happiness that
men crave is something more than a word adapted to serve as
the subject or predicate of a platitude. It is a definite sensa
tion, not to be mistaken for any other — a sensation to be
experienced only during the sentient hours of life and the
conditions of its generation during those hours cannot be too
searchingly investigated. Where I could apply mathematical
modes of expression to render these conditions less indefinite,
I have applied them — where I could not, I have not done so.
In adopting this procedure I have endeavored to operate in
the clear light of common sense, attaining as great a degree of
precision as possible. My only regret is that thus far I have
been unable to attain a greater degree. It is with deliberate in
tent that I have aimed to avoid the obscurity pervading the fog-
bank of intuitionism wherein the truth-seeker is doomed to
wander in eternal circles, knowing neither where he is nor
whither he is going.

CHAPTER VIII

THE THIRD FACTOR OF HAPPIKESS

As the most marked feature of modern industrial states is their
defective economy of consumption, there can be little doubt that
the most strictly economic policy they could pursue would be
curtailment of final development to a point where the rate of
consumption is as low as is consistent with preserving the pro
ductive capacity of the community unimpaired; and the imme
diate employment of all the productive powers available in con
structing and applying an economic system of consumption and
bringing it to a high order of efficiency. The main feature of
such a policy would be the diversion of human effort from final
development of the country to initial development of the human
mind — so far as possible from agriculture, mining, and man
ufacturing, to education, and breeding, since the most fruitful
of all natural resources in any nation are the human beings who
compose it, and the development thereof supplies no stimulus
to the law of diminishing returns of labor. Simultaneouslv,
preparatory development and improvement of the arts should
be promoted, and as the foundation of all useful arts, the knowl
edge of nature and her powers should be advanced through the
organized, instead of the unorganized, efforts of science. After
an economic system of consumption was once devised, put in
operation^ and brought to a high degree of perfection, it would
then be time to proceed with the development of the material
resources of the country, with the assurance that they would be
put to a useful purpose — that in their dissipation 'and deple
tion happiness would be produced — that society would have
something to show for the exhausted mines and diminished fer
tility of the domain it occupied. Much the same situation as
faces Justice to-day would face the steam-engineer whose boilers
had a poor efficiency of conversion and poorer efficiency of
adaptation. His policy would be to reduce to a minimum the
development of his coal mines and to concentrate all his energies
on the problem of securing economy in the consumption of his
coaJ through improvements in the efficiencies of conversion and

318

CHAP. VIII] THIRD FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 310

of adaptation. This once accomplished, he could proceed with
the development of his mines with the assurance that the steam
he produced would be worth more than the coal he consumed — •
that he would have something to show for his disappearing coal
supply. I shall hereafter submit reasons for believing that
modern industrial states with their present provision for con
sumption produce a heavy deficit of happiness — that the sum
of their activities is not self-supporting — and hence that every
ton of coal, iron, and copper taken from their mines, every
pound of phosphorus, potassium., and nitrogen extracted from
their soil by agricultural operations is worse than wasted, or at
any rate will be so, unless the communities now existing can
develop sufficient intelligence to devise and apply a system of
consumption which shall lift their posterity into the zone of
self-support. Every dollar's worth by which the natural re
sources of the earth are at present diminished by final develop
ment means the destruction of just so much potentiality of
happiness — a potentiality which, in the future, with improved
economy of consumption, could be converted into an actuality.
Hence the duty of every intelligent state to retard the develop
ment of its material resources as much as possible, and divert
the energies employed in developing them to the development
oi the human mind and character, and the construction of an
economic system of consumption.

To carry out this policy with maximum effect, however, would
require considerable self-sacrifice on the part of the present gen
eration ; it would involve a denial of consumption on their part
that their posterity might have the more to consume. It is
doubtful if human nature affords the motive power for consist
ently pursuing such a policy — hence my endeavor is to ascer
tain the conditions under which a developing society may attain
a state approximating to the maximum happiness for the stages
of development it successively attains, and this indeed will
not differ very much from the policy first suggested ^ since the
application in practice of an improved and improving system
of consumption can only be secured by careful effort and
patient experiment. In order to develop in detail an economic
mode of applying labor in the production of happiness, we must
actually apply it in order to observe how it works ; just as in
the perfection of any other mechanism for accomplishing a
desired result, we must test it by continued trial. Nevertheless
the superior claim of posterity to consideration should never
be ignored.

320 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [BOOK II

If a given population occupying a definite land area attains
a condition of maximum efficiency of adaptation, it cannot main
tain that condition — that is, it cannot maintain the same out
put of happiness per capita per day, if the efficiency of produc
tion remains stationary. This is owing to the effect of the law
of diminishing returns of labor upon the labor cost of desid
erata; in other words, to maintain the same number at the same
rate of happiness per capita, an increase in efficiency of produc
tion is required. Let us call this the essential increase. Its
magnitude is directly proportional to the population and in
versely proportional to the natural resources of the area occu
pied; thus, it is roughly proportional to the density of popu
lation.

Let us assume a community consisting of 10,000,000 mem
bers which has attained a condition of maximum efficiency of
adaptation and maintains the essential increase in efficiency of
production, and the average member of which possesses an effi
ciency of conversion such that Fig. 9 (p. 304) represents the
law ot diminishing returns of happiness for that community
Assuming an average sentient day of sixteen hours, the output
ol happiness per year is 5,840 pathedon-minutes per capita or
for the whole community, 973,000,000 hedon-hours. Let us
call this community the sample community, and the condition
ot output here specified the initial condition. To be sure, no
actually existing community has attained conditions of 'effi
ciency even approaching this; but nevertheless it may be used
for purposes of illustration.

On page 191, Chapter 5, where the problem of the technology
of happiness is formulated, we have pointed out that the third
factor of happiness is number. Let us consider the effect on
the sample community of varying this factor alone. Owing to
the laws of diminishing and dwindling returns, the labor cost
ol desiderata, will increase with increasing population, and de
crease with decreasing population. In a new community of
low density of population there will be little or no increase
"St, because of the abundance of land of practically equal
fertility, but as the lands are occupied, and poorer and poorer
soils are brought under cultivation, while the better ones are
progressively exhausted, the increase in labor cost will accel
erate faster than the population increases The increase of
labor cost is due to an increase in the time required to effect a
given production. It is not, in general, due to any increase
m the intensity of labor cost, except as that intensity is in-

CHAP. VIII] THIKD FACTOR OF HAPPINESS

321

Per cent increase or decrease
in labor cost

21

322 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT I [Boon II

creased by an increase in duration. While data for determining
just what the increase is, or would be, for any actual com
munity, are wanting, the general law is known, and for the
sample community may be represented by Fig. 12. Ab
scissae represent increase or decrease in population, each divi
sion corresponding to a population of 250,000; 0 representing
the population of the sample community, viz., 10,000,000. Or-
dinates represent per cent increase or decrease in labor cost with
increase or decrease of population. By the use of this curve
in conjunction with Figs. 13 and 14, the effect on the rate
of happiness output of any increase or decrease of population
may be determined. Thus an increase of 10% in the average
labor cost of production will be induced by an increase in the
population of 1,850,000; this will alter Curve C to the form
shown in Fig. 13. At the point of maximum efficiency the
average output will be reduced to 13.7 hedon-minutes per day.
But as the population will now be 11,850,000, the total output
for the year becomes 988,000,000 hedon-hours, as compared
with 973,000,000 for a population of 10,000,000. If, however,
the population is increased, so as to increase the labor cost of
production to 20%, as will result from an increase of 3,000,000,
Curve C will take the form shown in Fig. 14 and the maximum
output per capita per day will then become 11.6 hedon-minutes,
and the total output per year for the increased population will
be 917,000,000 hedon-hours, a diminution of 56,000,000 hedon-
hours. Between these two points a relation between the in
crease in total output due to increased population, and the de
crease in output per capita due to diminished returns to labor
exists, which will give a maximum output for the assumed com
munity. Were it worth while, a method could be given for
discovering it, but as the figures we have been citing are for
illustrative purposes merely, it would only add confusion to
undertake the process. The population giving maximum output
in .the case we have been discussing would obviously be about
12,000,000. A population thus adjusted to its means of hap
piness, so as to produce a maximum output thereof, we shall say
is in beneficent equilibrium. Any increase or decrease of its
numbers will result in a diminished output of happiness.

Clearly, for a community at a given stage of efficiency of con
version and adaptation there is some particular population
whose number is better adapted than any other to the available
resources. The number which would be best adapted to the
island of Sicily, for example, would not be the same as that best

CHAP. VIII] THIRD FACTOR OF HAPPINESS

Semi-pathedon-minutes per sentient hour

324 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [Boon II

? CO

Semi-pathedon-minutes per sentient hour

CHAP. VIII] THIRD FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 325

adapted to the continent of Europe. If this be so, it is because
there is some relation between a given environment and the
number of sentient agents it is best adapted to support in a
condition to afford the greatest happiness. If it is admitted
that there is some ratio between the number of members of a
community and the resources thereof better adapted to the pro
duction of happiness than any other, then it may be inquired
what determines that ratio if the principle we have propounded
does not? If it is denied, then there is no reason why the pop
ulation of a continent should be greater than that of a county.
In a community wherein the distribution of wealth is unequal
and extremes of wealth and poverty exist, no rule as to the num
ber of the population can be given, since the first approximation
to an economic system of happiness manufacture has not been
attained. It would be like trying to determine the proper num
ber of boilers to consume a given coal output when the distri
bution of coal to the boilers is indeterminate and unequal. The
chances are that the best number of boilers would be none, since
a system which would leave the matter of coal distribution to
chance would almost certainly yield a deficit. For a similar
reason, if the distribution of 'wealth in a community is inde
terminate and left to chance, it is probable that the less the
number of members of that community the better — none at all
being the best — since a deficit of happiness will almost cer
tainly result,

Tlie increase in curvature of the curve shown in ing. 1*5
makes it unnecessary to expend much time in explaining the
effect of too great an increase in the population. Increase in
the density of a population, resulting, as it must, in an aug
mented intensiveness of cultivation of the soil, acceleratively
stimulates the laws of diminishing and dwindling returns
labor, the zone of self-support progressively dwindles (com
pare Fig 13 with Fig. 14) and finally disappears and the
permanent underconsumption or impoverishment of
munity is the inevitable result. The evils of over-population
will be discussed in Book III and need not be further con-

vousy anything resulting in an increase in efficiency of
production (bevond the essential increase) or of consumption
will require an increase in population to a new point of benefi
cent equilibrium as a condition essential to the maximum pro
duction of happiness. Increase in these .^lencies may be ac
complished by adapting external conditions to desires, o

326 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAET I [BOOK II

adapting desires to external conditions. There is no necessity
of discussing each case separately, since the effect on the third
factor is the same in both ; therefore, as an example of the rela
tion between increase in the efficiency of production or consump
tion, and number of population, it will suffice to examine the
manner in which an increase in the efficiency of conversion
operates.

In this treatment we shall, for simplicity, regard increase in
the efficiency of conversion as essentially a process of developing
health and adjustability. The utility of these primary qualities
is obvious, once the nature of utility has been disclosed. Their
development by inheritance and education acts in two ways.
(1) To diminish the labor cost of a given amount of production
by diminishing its intensity; (2) To increase the happiness out
put of a given amount of consumption, (a) by diminishing the
proportion and intensity of negative consumption, and (b) by
increasing the intensity of positive consumption.

All moralists claim that labor ought to be pleasant, and no
view can be sounder. If both production and consumption
could be made positive, it is clear that the happiness output
of a community would be vastly increased, and if productive
could be made pleasanter than consumptive acts, the indicative
ratio could be indefinitely diminished. Unfortunately how
ever, the advantages of pleasant labor are more clearly percept
ible than the means of attaining it, though such means as are
available should be employed. In this regard the advice of the
utilitarian is— "If possible make a pleasure of business, but
by all means make a business of pleasure/'

The more needs a man or nation has the more labor will be
required to satisfy them; the greater will be the proportion of
consumptive acts merely negative, and the greater will be the
unhappiness if they are left unsatisfied. Could men dispense
with the necessity of eating, the cultivation of wheat and po
tatoes, and many other agricultural operations would become use
less, and could be done away with; and could they get along just
as well without clothing, the raising of cotton 'and wool, etc.,
with their attendant manufacturing operations would be super
fluous. To dispense with needs is one of the best means of in
creasing the efficiency of conversion of men or of nations. This
being so, it is evident that simple tastes a,re better than any
others. A nation whose tastes are of the simplest can, other
things being equal, dispense in greatest proportion with the most
universal of needs — the need of labor. It is for this reason that

CHAP. VIII] THIRD FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 327

luxurious tastes arc so uneconomic. A nation whose wealth is
so ill distributed as to create a demand for luxuries of high
labor cost, is organized uneconomically — the production of such
luxuries is a waste of labor, and the conditions which involve
such production are unjust. The production of one expensive
diamond may represent the severe labor of several lifetimes,
yet its power of producing happiness is very slight. Its labor
cost is millions of times its happiness value. Had the same
amount of labor cost been expended in producing toys for chil
dren, for example, the result would probably be to cause as
much happiness to each of thousands of human beings as by the
production of the diamond was caused to one. Such industries
as diamond mining can never be self-supporting. They are
hopelessly uneconomic.

Yet expensive luxuries are not necessarily uneconomic. Great
works of art, for instance, such as pictures and statues, are ex
pensive but economic. Their money cost may be high but their
labor cost is little or nothing, because the work of the artist is
pleasant. Works of art, however, should not be hoarded in private
collections where they can be enjoyed only by the few. They
should be placed in public places where they may educate and
edify the multitude. .So placed, they are among the most eco
nomic of products, because their labor cost is negative, and the
consumptive acts which they make possible do not destroy them.
They are at once of great permanence and of less than no labor
cost. The average labor cost of all products of the fine arts is
negative. This is one factor of their high utility.

The most useful classes of tastes are among the most simple.
The pleasures of childhood are first among these — they should
be perpetuated as long as possible. There are few permanent
sources of happiness greater than that proceeding from a taste
for the companionship of nature, and the labor cost required
to gratify it is no more than is required to obtain the neces
sary leisure. Literature, and the cultivation of taste to enjoy
it, the opportunity for thought, and the mental training which
makes it a source of pleasure, health, friends, a congenial
occupation, and freedom from worry, are all that men of eco
nomic tastes require, to be happy. Expensive clothes, houses,
yachts, estates, or jewelry are unnecessary. Another reason why
simple tastes should be cultivated is that tastes, once acquired,
tend to become needs, and as expensive tastes are those the op
portunity for gratifying which it is easiest to lose, it is the more
incautious to acquire them. Sometimes this tendency of tastes

328 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [BOOK IT

to become needs is advanced as a reason why opportunity for
acquiring new tastes should be altogether denied certain large
classes of the community, e. g. the working classes. Such
opportunity, it is maintained, would but increase dissatisfaction
and discontent ; but such a doctrine is self-destructive — con
sistently pursued it would mean that mankind should aim to
dispense with tastes as well as with needs, for thereby they
would insure contentment. By such means complete content
ment could indeed be approached, but the same end could be
much better attained by the annihilation of the race. No taste
would then go ungratified, nor any need neglected, for tastes as
well as needs, would no longer exist. A community of stones
is perfectly contented. Contentment is a more useful end than
a surplus of pain, but it is a less useful one than a surplus of
pleasure. There is certainly no use in cultivating tastes unless
they can be gratified, and by stoicism or otherwise effort should
be made to prevent them from becoming needs, but the prin
ciple here mentioned should determine the rate at which tastes
may safely be acquired with the progress of society, rather than
the interdiction of their acquisition altogether.

Variety of taste is essential to a high output of happiness as
well as simplicity, but not for the same reason. It may be ap
prehended that these qualities are opposed, as a great variety of
tastes requires a corresponding variety of desiderata to satisfy
them. Variety of taste is required, however, because of the
effects of fatigue in diminishing the return from a succession of
similar stimuli. As long as a taste is not at the same time a
need, the absence of the means of gratifying it causes no pain.
The more varied our tastes, the more likely are we to find some
thing in every situation which will appeal to them, particularly
if, at the same time, they are simple.

The possession of many tastes which are not at the same time
needs and the possession of few needs constitutes adaptability,
since these are qualities of mind which enable men to adapt
them-selves well to their surroundings — hence requiring less
adaptation of their surroundings to them. The ideal case would
be that which required no adaptation of the surroundings at all.
As the development of health and adjustability serves to in
crease the efficiency of production and of consumption, and as
the third factor of happiness should be a function of these, it
follows that the population of a country should be a function
of the average efficiency of conversion 'of its inhabitants, in
creasing with said efficiency, and decreasing with it. By refer-

CHAP. VIII] THIRD FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 329

ence to the hypothetical community we have previously dis
cussed, this relation may be expressed with great definiteness.
Assume the average member of the sample community to have
so increased his efficiency of conversion that the labor cost of a
given amount of production is diminished 20% and the happi
ness resulting from a given rate of consumption is increased
20%. By making the proper calculations we discover that,
under these conditions a population of 10,000,000 maintained
at the point of maximum efficiency would yield happiness at the
rate of about 330,000,000 hedon-minutes per day, or about 2,000,-
000,000 hedon-hours per year, as compared with 973,000,000
hedon-hours per year when possessed of a poorer efficiency of con
version. But an even greater output could be produced by an in
crease of the population to a new point of beneficent equilib
rium in conformity with the principle of readjustment already
discussed, the output per capita diminishing, but the total out
put increasing, and it is obvious that with increased efficiency
of conversion the increase in population will be greater than
in the case already cited (p. '322) before the point of beneficent
equilibrium is attained.

A rate of happiness greater still would be temporarily obtain
able by diminishing the indicative ratio in some degree thereby
increasing the production per capita and permitting of a still
larger population. Such a course would diminish the rate of
happiness per capita, but if the diminution of the indicative
ratio did not exceed a certain critical value, the increase in num
bers would more than compensate therefor. What the critical
value would be, would, of course, be a function of the precise
forms of the curves of diminishing returns of happiness and (
labor It would indeed be calculable on the assumptions al
ready made, but the calculation would be tedious and unprc
able Moreover, the practice of such a policy by society would,
in the end, be uneconomic, since the object of society is not the
greatest immediate output of happiness possible, but the greatest
total output, and to secure this it is better that the happiness per
capita should augment at the expense of number than that num-
be? should augment at the expense of happiness P£ capita
since increase in number involves stimulation of the law of
minishing returns of labor, and consequent dissipation of na
ural resources at an unnecessarily reduced efficiency of con
sumption. Husbandry of nature's resources and not their harty
development is the only sensible policy for society to pursue
since it results in a higher rate of happiness per capita foi the

330 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT I [Boon II
present generation, and insures to posterity a greater output.

In Book I we set ourselves the task of ascertaining exactly
what the object of society ought to be. Satisfying ourselves
that this object was the maximum output of happiness, our next
task was to ascertain upon what uniformities of nature and of
human nature the production of happiness depends, for until
this is cleared up, it is obvious that we cannot apply our knowl
edge of society's object to any useful purpose. In the present
book our attention has been occupied with ascertaining the most
general and vital of such characteristics. Starting with the
proposition that the happiness of society is a function of three
factors: (1) The sentient agent: (2) The environment of said
agent: (3) The number of said agents — we have endeavored
by a discussion of the various elements of which these factors
themselves are functions to discover a test, or series of tests, by
which the polity of society could be judged and directed. Al
though the subject is complex, and in proceeding from the uni
versal proposition that society should do what will presumably
result in the maximum surplus of happiness to the determina
tion of what policies will so result, we have inevitably lost some
thing in generality, yet we have gained in defmiteness suffi
ciently to enable us to formulate general rules for the guidance
of society — rules which will remain valid as long as the laws
of nature and of human nature upon which they are founded
remain what they are. It is undeniable that the policy of soci
ety should be determined by the structure of the human mind,
and the laws of its environment. If these, or either of them,
were different from what they are, then the policy of society
should be different from what, under present conditions, it
should be.

Society's object in existence then being the production of
happiness, it at once follows that all the acts of men ought to
be directed to that object. Happiness must be attained either
directly or indirectly. The immediate object of men's acts
therefore should be either happiness or the means to happiness
— either consumption or production. But in their attempts to
attain these objects men may meet with very various degrees
of success — they may produce and consume with very varying
degrees of economy. As production is necessary to consump
tion, men's time must be divided between the two, but the ratio
in which they are divided (the indicative ratio) should depend
upon the relation between the productive and consumptive effi-

CHAP. VIII] THIRD FACTOR OF HAPPINESS 331

ciencies and capacities. It should increase as productive capac
ity, productive intensity, and consumptive capacity increase, and
decrease as they decrease. Hence, though the efficiencies and
capacities of production and consumption cannot be too great,
the indicative ratio can be too great.

The adjustment of the indicative ratio to the efficiencies and
capacities of production and consumption in such a manner as to
maintain the happiness per capita a maximum, as illustrated in
the last chapter, I shall denominate the primary adjustment.
The adjustment of a population to its available resources in such
a manner as to maintain it at the point of beneficent equilibrium,
as illustrated in the present chapter, I shall denominate the sec
ondary adjustment. The determinants of these adjustments
are the efficiencies and capacities of production and consumption ;
but what are the determinants of these efficiencies and capacities?
Our examination of the factors of happiness enables us to
enumerate them.

In the first place there are two which affect both efficiencies am
capacities. These are : (1) The quality of the sentient agent that
is his intelligence and character. (2) The health and adjust
ability of the sentient agent. In the second place there are three
which primarily affect the efficiency and capacity of produ
(3) The availability of natural resources. (4) The employment
of machinery, material and social, in production. («>) The ski
and interest of the employers of said machinery. In the thud
pkce there is one which primarily affects the efficiency and
capacity of consumption: (6) The distribution of wealth anc
leisure If to these we add (7) The primary adjustment, and
(8) The secondary adjustment, we shall have enumerated what
rnav be called the Eiq'ht Elements of Happiness.
m^e do not pretend to assert that these are mutually in-

IJUOCU. iSV^u-cii >-JJ — -v

•IS ESS =fSS;I5

332 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAET I [BOOK II

agent. (2) It should promote the adjustability and health of
said agent. (3) It should husband natural resources while the
efficiency of consumption is low. (4) It should promote the
employment of machinery in production as a substitute for
men. (5) It should stimulate the skill and interest applied
to the employment of said machinery. (6) It should promote
the equality of distribution of wealth and leisure. (?) It
should tend" to maintain the indicative ratio at the point of max
imum efficiency per capita. (8) It should tend to maintain the
population at the point of beneficent equilibrium.

In the degree in which a system fulfils these conditions it is
good; in the degree in which it fails to fulfil them it is bad.
Thus we are provided with a proximate means, free from in-
tuitionism, of testing whatever social systems men have proposed,
or may propose, and we should proceed to the task of so testing
at once were it not that a prolific source of confusion needs
first to be cleared away. I refer to the general misunderstand
ing of the meaning of liberty. There is no word so dear to the
political mystic, and to ask what it means may not be conven
tional, but as our subject requires it, I shall waive convention
and devote a chapter to the examination of its meaning. Such
an examination will serve to verify in a general way the criteria
of the social system which have been laid down in this chapter,
and incidentally to develop an auxiliary criterion — the adaptive
principle (p. 341) — applicable to all systems which men are
likely to devise anterior to the abolition of their egotism.

CHAPTER IX

LIBERTY

Liberty is a matter much discussed in our country and we
deem ourselves highly appreciative of it. In reality we have no
adequate apprehension of the value of genuine liberty —other
wise we should not he content to possess so little. We read a
good deal in the newspapers about civil, personal, or individual
Hbertv and how jealous we should be about permitting the gov-
SSSit?«SI it, and we are led to the belie that it IB ^some-
thin- which the community, acting in its collective capacity
can "diminish but cannot increase. Those who use the word
y confuse several different things together under

interestin

ppareny conuse

same name and even Mill has written a long and interesting

emaoues

ame an even

essay libertv without telling us what it is. .Demagogues
frequently employ the term as a means of ^f^^y0^
munitv to forego the thing; and it is equalled by lew oi tlie

334 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [Boon II

of usefulness to himself, and B 100. Can we say A has more
liberty than B, or is there doubt? I apprehend most men will
feel some hesitation in pronouncing an opinion on this point,
f so, it will confirm my statement that there is no very definite
implication to the word as commonly employed. Now A has
more of something than B, and as it may be convenient to refer
to that something, we shall give it a name. Let us call it nom
inal liberty. The nominal liberty of an individual at any mo
ment then is the number of alternatives useful to him which it
is possible for him to select at that moment. Let us see if we
can find another kind of liberty. Suppose at some particular

time, A to have a nominal liberty of x and B of — ; thus,

A's nominal liberty is ten times B's. Suppose further that A's
best alternative, namely, the one promising the greatest excess
of happiness, yields a presumable surplus of y, and that B's
best alternative yields a surplus of 10 y. Which has the greater
liberty? A's nominal liberty is ten times that of B; yet there
is no doubt that any normal human being would prefer B's lib
erty to A's. B, indeed, has less nominal liberty than A but he
has more of another kind of liberty. We shall call this real
liberty. The real liberty of an individual at any moment, then,
the presumable surplus of happiness of the best alternative
which it is possible for him to select at that moment. It may
be positive or negative. It is assumed, of course, that the pre
sumable surplus is to be determined by the common sense of the
individual applied to the data in his 'own possession. Now the
kind of liberty that is of interest to normal mortals is not nom
inal but real liberty. This is the kind that men cannot have in
too high a. degree. Any one would prefer a situation in which
he had but one alternative, and that a good one, to one which
offered 10,000 if they were all evil. There are at all times a
thousand ways of securing pain to one of securing pleasure. If
pain were what men desired they would have no difficulty in <ret-
tmg all they wanted. At no cost whatever anyone can secure a
quantity of pain whose equivalent of pleasure cannot be pur
chased with all the money in the world.

The value to any individual of any particular period of time
as a day or a month, is the presumable surplus of happiness
which would be yielded to that individual by selecting the pre
sumably best alternatives offered at each moment during the
period. We shall call this the opportunity of, or offered by,
that period. It is positive or negative, according as the surplus

CHAP. IX] LIBEKTY

335

offered is positive or negative. Probably no one has ever taken
complete advantage of his opportunity for even so short a
period as one day. Frequently the bulk of the best alternatives
over considerable periods will consist, not in physical acts, but
simply in thought, for more can be accomplished by even a little
well-considered action than by a great deal that is ill considered.
The average opportunity of an individual during any period of
time is the opportunity of that period divided by the duration
of the period. It is this quantity which we shall refer to as
the real liberty or simply the liberty of an individual, and if no
period is specified, the lifetime of the individual is to be under
stood. Now opportunity is to be expressed in terms of quan
tity of pleasure or pain. Hence if we express liberty by L and
suppose the opportunity during time T to be Q, we shall have:

L = ~J — that is, liberty varies directly as the opportunity

and inversely as the time over which that opportunity is dis
tributed. Suppose the liberty of an individual were ten hedon-
minutes per hour. By distributing the ten hedon-minutes over
100 hours, we should have decreased his liberty one hundred
times, whereas by increasing his opportunity (Q) in one hour to
1,000 hedon-minutes, we should have increased it one hun
dred times. Q in the foregoing equation is expressive of
an intensity of pleasure or pain multiplied by a duration.
Suppose we express the duration by T ; there will then be an
intensity, call it X, which, multiplied by T, will equal Q, or
XxT = Q. Substituting in the above equation we have:

X x T

L = - ) or L = X. Hence L is expressible in terms of in
tensity of pleasure or pain, and a glance at the equation will
show that it expresses the average intensity of pleasure or pain
which the individual in question would presumably have expe
rienced had he always selected the best alternatives open to him.
For short periods of time this equation might be misleading,
since the best alternatives are often those which require future
action to bring to fruition, and it would be difficult to formulate
other than an arbitrary rule which would determine what pro
portion of the presumable surplus resulting from a compound
act should be attributed to some short period which included _a
portion of that act. When we consider a lifetime, however^ this
difficulty disappears, since it includes all the acts of an individ
ual as well as all the pleasure or pain he is capable of experi-

336 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [BOOK II

encing. The lifetime involved is, of course, the presumable
lifetime, assuming the invariable selection of the best alterna
tives. If T represents such a lifetime, the intensity X, which is
the measure of the real liberty, will invariably be algebraically
greater than that actually experienced, for in any considerable
period it is practically impossible that a combination of acci
dents should yield greater happiness to an individual than strict
adherence to common sense would yield.

^ We are now prepared to consider an important question,
viz., what conditions are essential to real liberty. It is ap
parently a general impression that these consist exclusively of
such conditions as include the physical possibility of selecting
alternatives. This is an error. We have seen that liberty is
but a name for the happiness value of opportunity per unit of
time. He who in any given period of time has the greatest
opportunity of happiness lias the greatest real liberty for that
period. If we discover the essentials of opportunity then we
shall discover the essentials of liberty. We may best learn
them by considering a concrete case, as follows : Let us suppose
that a large uncut diamond is lying in a road and that an indi
vidual of normal common sense observes it. Let us first
suppose that he is ignorant of one, or both, of the following
propositions: (1) The object before me is a diamond. (2)
Diamonds may be exchanged for money or other useful things;
that is, things which serve to produce happiness or prevent pain.
Let us call these, facts (1) and (2). If he is ignorant of either
of these facts, it must be because he has never had presented to
him the observations from which they might be inferred by a
person of normal common sense. The question is, does the ob
servation of the diamond increase his opportunity for happi
ness ? It does not, because in the. absence of the information
above noted, he would be as likely to possess himself of any other
stone in the road as of the diamond. It would be physically
possible for him to pick up the diamond, but if he did 'pick it
up and dispose of it to advantage it would only be by accident,
since one essential condition for establishing a presumption of
happiness would be absent. Second, suppose that he has had
presented to him the observations from which a person of nor
mal common sense would infer facts (1) and (2), but that his
common sense has been impaired, as for instance by dogma, so
that he employs some substitute for common sense as a means of
inference. Does the observation of the diamond increase his
opportunity for happiness? It does not, because the impair-

CHAP. IX] LIBERTY 337

merit of his reasoning powers would prevent his deriving facts
(1) and (2) from the observations presented, or of making the
necessary deduction from them, even if he could make the pre
liminary inference. Hence he would be as likely to possess
himself of any other stone as the diamond, and it would only
be by accident that he could derive advantage from its presence.
Thus, a second essential condition of establishing a presumption
is absent in this case. Therefore the first two co-essentials are
those required for establishing presumptions. We have re
marked in Chapter 2 that expectations are derived from ob
servations by inference, and in Chapter 3 that acts are guided
by expectations. Hence in the absence of either the requisite
observations or inferences there is no guide to action, and in the
absence of a guide one act is as probable as another. To any
being incapable of establishing a presumption, whether it is a
tree, a beetle, an infant, or an idiot, opportunity is impossible.
Third, suppose an individual who has had presented to him
the observations necessary for inferring facts (1) and (2) and
is also possessed of normal common sense, to be passing along
the road, but that there is no diamond there to observe. Ob
viously he has no more opportunity than the first two individuals
had, because the external condition of opportunity — the phys
ical possibility of possessing himself of a diamond which was
present in their cases is absent in his. Hence a third condition
of opportunity is absent in this case.

Suppose now these three conditions all to be present. It is
clear that an opportunity is present. Propositions (1) and (2)
would lead to the conclusion : " This object may be exchanged
for money or other useful things." This in turn would lead
immediately to a use-judgment, indicating that to pick up the
diamond would presumably lead to greater happiness than not
to pick it up ; and this, in turn, would lead to the act of picking
up the diamond. The means would have been adapted to the
end, and the opportunity would thus have been accepted, where
as in the absence of either the appropriate observations, the
appropriate inferences, or of the presence of the diamond, the
act of picking it up either would have been physically impos
sible, or could have occurred only as the result of chance.

There are thus three co-essentials of opportunity and hence
of liberty. Two inhere in the sentient agent and one in the
environment. The co-essentials are: (1) Experience of the
requisite observations from which to infer. (2) Capacity for
inference, or the ability to correctly convert observations into
22

338 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT I [BooK II

expectations. (3) Physical possibility of acting upon the ex
pectations inferred. We shall call these the first, second and
third essentials of liberty, respectively. The physical possibil
ity of an alternative is merely a potential opportunity,
to provide an individual or a community with the third essen
tial of liberty may or may not increase its real liberty. The
world furnishes to men the first and third essentials of oppor
tunity for happiness, but this opportunity must remain a poten
tial one until they have acquired the second essential,
men's intuitionism that enslaves them, for " where there is no
vision the people perish."

The liberty of an individual may be expressed in terms ot
intensity of pain or pleasure — of quantity of happiness,
positive or negative, per unit of time. If the sum of the liber
ties so expressed of all the members of the community be divided
by the number of members in the community, the result is an
expression of the liberty of the community which is also the
liberty of the average individual in the community. Its co-
essentials are obviously those of individual liberty.

So much then for the co-essentials of real liberty, individual
and social. They are the necessary conditions of any or all lib
erty. Without them opportunity is as impossible to a man as_to
a fence post. The degree in which an individual or a community
profits by his or its liberty will, however, depend upon other
-£Q fi4"(")"pG

A number of objections will probably occur to the reader
against this treatment of liberty. Men's preference is fre
quently determined by motives of distribution in time instead of
quantity of happiness. Hence if real liberty is to be measured
by preference alone, we should consider this fact. We might, if
we pleased, discover another variety of liberty by taking mere
preference, instead of correct preference as a measure, but it
would not lead us to any useful distinction. To add to any set
of alternatives, whether including a high or low degree of real
liberty, the possibility of another whose presumption of happi
ness is less than one already available would not, in general, be
useful. Another objection to be expected is that preference is
frequently governed by a desire for the good of others and not
that of ourselves alone. This is true, and by examining the
matter we could distinguish several other varieties of liberty;
but for the purpose of political discussion these varieties would
not be of much service. It is not such varieties that are re
stricted, or against the restriction of which protest is made ; or

CHAP. IX] LIBEETY 333

if restricted, the restriction is but incidental to that upon real
liberty as already denned. A positive degree of real liberty is
a necessary, but not a sufficient, condition of happiness, and it
is primarily for real liberty, or rather for the happiness of which
it is a necessary condition, that men in all ages have suffered
and striven, and when this kind of liberty shall have become a
maximum, the conditions for all other useful kinds will have
been attained, or will be easily attainable.

It will next be useful to distinguish another kind of liberty.
Human nature is ruled by two forces. Self-interest and cus
tom; the first is fixed, the second variable. In order to deter
mine the acts of individuals, one or both of these forces must be
employed, for these are practically the only forces competent
to control human conduct. It is probable that all motives may
be classed as of self-interest or as of custom; conscience, as
already demonstrated, being itself of the latter class. Hence
he who would control the acts of men for the benefit of society
must employ these forces of human nature or fail to accomplish
his object, just as he who would produce changes in the external
world must employ the forces of nature inherent in gravitation,
heat, chemical affinity, etc., or fail to accomplish his object.
Many of the restraints upon liberty required for the well-being
of society are imposed by custom; those which custom fails to
impose, however, must, if imposed at all, depend upon the force
of self-interest, and the mechanism whereby this force is em
ployed to accomplish the object of society is that of law.

A law is a command issued to one or more persons by some
person, or persons, presumably possessing the power required to
execute it. It is universally recognized that laws restrict lib
erty, real or nominal. Let us see how they do it; and first in
the case of individual liberty. Is it by altering one or more of
the co-essentials of liberty? No, the co-essentials of liberty are
unaltered by law. We have seen that the value of opportunity is
measured by the presumable surplus of happiness it offers. The
legal restriction of liberty is effected by altering its presumable
surplus, not by abolishing the physical possibility of the act
which leads to it, though such abolition is a frequent result ol
the execution, of the law. The surplus may be either increased
or decreased by law. Consider, as an example, a case in which
it is decreased (as in a law prohibiting burglary). Among the
alternatives physically possible to men is that of breaking and
entering houses for 'the purpose of appropriating the good*
of others. Suppose no law against it existed. Men, not r

340 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [BooK 11

strained by conscience or custom would often be tempted to
select such alternatives because of the presumable surplus of hap
piness resulting to themselves from such a selection. A law
against burglary does not make burglary a physical impossi
bility, but it decreases the temptation to burglary in frequency
and strength, diminishing the presumable surplus resulting from
the act, by fixing a penalty for those who select it. This it does
by its effect upon the appropriate use-judgment, for the
mean surplus of failure is obviously diminished (algebraic
ally) by the threat to execute the law and apply the penalty,
because the probability of failure is increased, and its probable
surplus diminished (algebraically) thereby. This, in turn, di
minishes the presumption of happiness, and as a use- judgment
is a normal operation of the mind, the frequency of burglary
is diminished, and thus the object of the law accomplished.
If we are correct in this analysis of the mode in which laws
operate in the attainment of their ends, we should expect
to find: (1) That the effectiveness of a law is proportional
to (a) the severity of its penalty, (b) the probability of its exe
cution, and (c) the degree of real liberty in the community
affected, that is, upon the happiness value of the alternatives to
illegal acts: and (2) That penalties do not apply to beings pre
sumably incapable of applying a use-judgment to the acts pro
hibited. The expectations thus specified are fulfilled by experi
ence. First, other things being equal, laws are most effective
(a) when their penalties are severe rather than slight, (b) when
their enforcement is strict rather than lax, (c) among the hap
pier classes whose opportunity is positive, rather than among the
more miserable classes whose opportunity is negative. Second,
penalties are not applied to children whose minds are undevel
oped, or to insane persons whose minds are abnormal.

If we examine the operation of law in establishing depart
ments of government, courts, schools, etc., we shall find that it
proceeds in the same manner, only in this case it aims to cause
the selection of acts instead of preventing their selection. Hence
it increases the mean surplus of success of alternatives
which it desires selected, and consequently the presumption of
happiness of such alternatives. This is done by the offer of
reward, either in the form of money or honor, generally the
former. Now this mode of operation of law is universal. It
has not changed throughout history and is common to all coun
tries alike. Thus it is strongly confirmatory of the claim ad
vanced in Chapter 6 that a use- judgment is a mental opera-

CHAP. IX] LIBERTY 341

tion dependent upon the structure of the mind and not upon its
previous history. The principle recognized in the utilization of
the omnipresent motive of self-interest in the manner thus speci
fied is so universally adapted to its end that I shall call it the
adaptive principle. It is doubtful whether a social system which
aims to control any large section of society can succeed without
appealing to it ; that is, a system which does not make it to the
self-interest of the individual members of society to seek the
end of utility,, or does not make them cognizant of the fact that
it is to their self-interest, is not at all likely to achieve that end.
The adaptive principle may be applied positively or negatively.
It is positive when the act is induced by the promise of pleasure :
negative when induced by the promise of pain. It is obvious
that the positive adaptive principle should be employed in prefer
ence to the negative whenever practical. In other words., when
using pleasure and pain as means, it is more economic to use
pleasure than pain. In many cases, however, this is not prac
ticable, for obvious reasons, and hence the negative adaptive
principle has to be applied.

We are now prepared to inquire what legal liberty is, and to
discover its relation to real liberty. Every restraint imposed by
law affects one or more of the alternatives open to members of
society, but they are not always useful alternatives even in the
absence of law. Hence we shall regard the legal restraint of a
community as proportional to the number of alternatives of the
average individual upon which the law imposes restraint. Legal
liberty is inversely proportional to legal restraint. Hence if
L± is the legal liberty of a community and 1^ its legal restraint,

then Lx = — - or, legal liberty is expressed by the reciprocal

of legal restraint. Suppose an individual whose acts do not
affect, and are not otherwise affected by, the acts of others to
have his opportunity, and hence his real liberty, restricted by law
in the manner already specified. That his real liberty may there
by be diminished is obvious. If any act which at any time might,
in the absence of law, have been the best open to him, is pro
hibited, his liberty is thereby diminished. Such a person would
be oppressed by law. Would there be any means whereby the
liberty of such an individual might be increased by law.''

'^In8 t^e third chapter we have pointed out that alternatives
are often selected from considerations of distribution in t
instead of quantity. It is true that acts so determined involve

342 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT I [BooK II

a moral fallacy, but still they may be prevented if the quantity
of pain involved, relatively remote though it be, is made large
enough, just as a logical fallacy may be prevented by strong
evidence when it would be committed if weak evidence alone
were presented. Now the commission of such a moral fallacy
would involve a diminution of real liberty for it would interfere
with future opportunity. Hence a law which prevented it would
increase real liberty. Thus, consider an individual the indul
gence of whose impulse to drink to excess and ruin his health
and prospects is preventable and prevented by his fear of the
penalty of a prohibitory law. The real liberty of such an indi
vidual is increased by said law, and in civilized communities
many laws are directed against acts which harm primarily the
acting individual himself. .Such laws may be called paternalistic,
and the principle involved paternalism. Prohibitory and com
pulsory education laws are paternalistic, since he who violates
them usually harms himself more than he does others. Were we
to restrict the term paternalism to laws restraining acts which
affect the liberty of absolutely no one but him who commits
them, it would apply to no possible class of laws either enacted
or enactable, since the interests of human beings are so bound
up with one another that it is probably impossible1 to discover
any considerable class of acts which affect the liberty of him
alone who commits them.

The frequency with which a man interferes with his own
liberty, however, will, in the absence of restraint, be far less
than that with which he will interfere with the liberty of others.
Hence in a community where the acts of individuals affect, and
are affected by, the acts of others, the number of ways in which
law can increase liberty is augmented in greater measure than
the number of ways in which it can diminish it. When applied
to society the law may increase liberty, not only by restraining
the exercise of incorrect judgments, but by restraining that of
correct but egotistic judgments. By curtailing some kinds of
opportunity in some, or perhaps all, members of society, the
liberty of society, namely, the liberty of the average individual,
may increase. Hence, if laws are determined by common sense,
the greater the number of legal restrictions, the more is real
liberty increased, i. e., as legal liberty diminishes, real liberty
increases. Whence, then, comes the general notion that laws
tend to diminish liberty, a notion which may be amply justified
by an appeal to experience ? The answer is simple : it is because
laws in the past have usually not been dictated by common

CHAP. IX] LIBERTY 343

sense, or have not been designed to accomplish the object of
utility. Bad laws may be divided into three classes: (1) Those
which seek no good end: (2) Those which seek a good end, but
abandon common sense as a means of attaining it: (3) Those
which seek a good end, and adhere to common sense, but owing
to lack of the requisite knowledge, fail to attain their end.
Host bad laws belong to the first two classes. The reasons for
this are two in number. First, because the interests of those
who in the past have enacted laws, have not been similar to the
interests of the community. Second, because it has not been
customary to apply common sense to political conduct.

The English political philosophers of the 19th century (the
school of Mill and Spencer, of which the editors, teachers, and
politicians of to-day are supporters) lay particular emphasis on
the power and the tendency of law to diminish liberty. They
contend that the less law the better, and that the interference of
government in anything but the protection of life and property,
and in a few other scattering cases, is unwarranted meddling on
the part of the state. They claim to have discovered that the
best policy for a state (except in certain cases in which they
discover that they approve action) is inaction. Hence the
name laissez faire or let alone which is applied to their school ^of
political economy, a school whose dogmas are conscientiously in
culcated in the universities. It may with propriety be called
the school of drift, since it advises all nations to drift wherever
the unrestrained forces of society tend to take them, making no
effort to restrict the course of nature by law. The laissez faire
policy is merely fatalism applied to the conduct of society
and applied as inconsistently as individual fatalism always is.
There is, however, a school of consistent fatalism. It is called
anarchy, though this term has often been otherwise applied,
teaches that government should not meddle in anything; that
there should in fact be no government, and is merely the
laissez faire system pushed to its legitimate conclusion; for it
"the less government the better" as political dogmatists are
fond of telling us, then the best government is none at all, and
the anarchists are right; at any rate they are consistent with
themselves. The laissez faire economist is simply an incon
sistent anarchist, and though he has produced many volumes to
show that there are certain matters which, in the nature «
things, are and must eternally be, outside the function of the
state to regulate, he has failed to make his point. Not that
can be denied that there may be such matters. It would take

344 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT I [BOOK II

omniscience to decide whether there were or were not. No
universal rule has ever been consistently maintained by which
those things to which the functions of government extend may
be perfectly distinguished from those to which they do not, yet
the effort to find and apply such a rule is continually made by
the economists of the school of drift, even after its non-exist
ence is acknowledged. Thus, Mill says:

" When those who have been called the laissez faire school have
attempted any definite limitation of the province of government,
they have usually restricted it to the protection of person and
property against force and fraud; a definition to which neither
they nor any one else can deliberately adhere, since it excludes
some of the most indispensable, and unanimously recognized, of
the duties of government.

" Without professing to entirely supply this deficiency of a
general theory, on a question which does not, as I conceive, admit
of any universal solution, I shall attempt to afford some little aid
towards the resolution of this class of questions as they arise, by
examining, in the most general point of view in which the subject
can be considered, what are the advantages, and what the evils
or inconveniences, of government interference." 1

This sounds modest, but in his Essay on Liberty, Mill pro
pounds just such a rule as he claims does not exist :

" The object of this Essay is to assert one very simple prin
ciple, as entitled to govern absolutely the dealings of society with
the individual in the way of compulsion and control, whether the
means used be physical force in the form of legal penalties, or the
moral coercion of public opinion. The principle is that the sole
end for which mankind are warranted, individually or collectively,
in interfering with the liberty of action of any of their number,
is self-protection. That the only purpose for which power can
be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community,
against his will, is to prevent harm to others. His own good, either
physical or moral, is not a sufficient warrant. He cannot right
fully be compelled to do or forbear because it will be better for him
to do so, because it will make him happier, because, in the opinion
of others, to do so would be wise or even right." 2

Mill here ignores the fact, already alluded to, that no con
siderable class of acts can be named which may not interfere
with the interests of others, and this omission is characteristic of

1 Political Economy; Chap. 9.

2 Essay on Liberty; Chap. 1.

CHAP. IX] LIBERTY 345

his school. But even assuming that the kind of paternalism that
Mill has in mind can exist, his doctrine is not sound, and he is
forced to qualify it immediately. Thus, he says :

" It is, perhaps, hardly necessary to say that this doctrine is
meant to apply only to human beings in the maturity of their
faculties. We are not speaking of children, or of young persons
below the age which the law may fix as that of manhood or woman
hood. Those who are still in a state to require being taken care
of by others, must be protected against their own actions as well
as against external injury. For the same reason, we may leave
out of consideration those backward states of society in which the
race itself may be considered as in its nonage. The early difficul
ties in the way of spontaneous progress are so great, that there
is seldom any choice of means for overcoming them; and a ruler
full of the spirit of improvement is warranted in the use of any
expedient that will attain an end, perhaps otherwise unattainable.
Despotism is a legitimate mode of government in dealing with
barbarians, provided the end be their improvement, and the means
justified by actually effecting that end. Liberty, as a principle,
has no application to any state of things anterior to the time when
mankind have become capable of being improved by free and equal
discussion. Until then, there is nothing for them but implicit
obedience to an Akbar or a Charlemagne, if they are so fortunate
as to find one." *

Whether we agree or disagree with the general applicability of
these principles, it is clear from the indefinite nature of its ex
ceptions that here is no universal rule. Were it worth while to
do so, we could show that in attempting to formulate and apply
such rules as the above, political philosophers inevitably con
tradict themselves, but in our discussion of inalienable rights,
we have by implication shown this. The attempt to put hard
and fast limits upon the application of law to individuals is
merely the assertion of the doctrine that individuals have in
alienable rights. Of course, if it could once be shown that a
particular class of acts of individuals could not possibly interfere
with the real liberty either of themselves or others, we should
have discovered a class of acts which we could forever banish
from among those which the law could rightfully restrict. This
is clear from the relation of liberty to utility. The difficulty is
that it would take omniscience to show such a thing. Hence,
we must rest content with general rules.

Now, what is the attitude of the utilitarian on this matter of

i Ibid., Chap. 1.

346 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT I [BOOK II

individual liberty so called? Can he propound a rule by which
to set any limits on the rightful restraint of society upon its
own members? None,, except that by which the rightfulness of
any restraint at all is itself established, viz., the definition of
utility itself which is, of course, universal and certain. Gov
ernments should restrain individual liberty by law when it will
presumably result in a greater surplus of happiness than not to
restrain it. Otherwise they should not. This rule may be in
definite, but it is correct. All other universal rules may be
definite, but they are incorrect. Some persons may deem such a
rule as this so incontrovertible that no one would be so absurd as
to deny it, yet anyone who attempts to establish any other uni
versal rule does deny it. For, suppose such a rule to be estab
lished and call it rule A. Then rule A is either inferrible from
the rule of utility as given, or it is not. If it is, of course, it
tells us no more than we could ourselves infer from the rule. If
it is not, its authority must be derived from some source other
than utility ; hence it implies the existence of some other source,
and this controverts the universality of the rule.

We may render the rule we have given somewhat more definite
by considering the universal utility of restricting all human
acts to productive and consumptive ones.

In production, economy is best attained by restricting the acts
of the laborer to specific operations, having a definite succession,
determined not by his immediate choice, but by the requirements
of his task, said acts being performed with relation to the cor
related and predetermined acts of others. In consumption, on
the other hand, economy is best attained by the absence of re
striction to specific acts or operations, permitting these to be
determined by the immediate desires or impulses of the moment.
In both cases the acts should be governed by, or adapted to, the
end sought, but the ends of production are proximate; those of
consumption are ultimate. In young, or otherwise irresponsible
persons, consumptive acts may — in fact must — be more or less
restricted to prevent harmful reactions upon the individual com
mitting them, but in mature and responsible persons, restrictions
should, in general, be imposed upon consumption only to pre
vent harmful reaction upon others. With these exceptions, the
ends of consumption, i. e., egotistic consumption, may best be
attained by leaving the individual to follow his own impulses.
It would be absurd, for example, to attempt the production of
happiness by prescribing that everyone in a community should
eat certain kinds of food, keep certain definite hours, read certain

CHAP. IX] LIBERTY 347

books, play certain games, go to see prescribed plays at pre
scribed periods. Tastes vary too much to make such restrictions
economic, though in production analogous rules are necessary.
The best judge of the adaptability of productive acts to their end
is he who is in the most advantageous position to observe and
compare the amount of production resulting from a given
amount of labor. This will, in general, be the director or con
troller of the given productive operations. The best judge of
the adaptability of consumptive acts to their end, on the other
hand, is, in general, the individual affected by them. Freedom
is thus more essential in consumption than in production. What
men desire, however, is liberty to consume, or if they desire
liberty to produce, it is only because their consumption is de
pendent upon their production. Liberty to dispense with pro
duction is everywhere more desired than liberty to produce, and
such liberty can be achieved only by increasing the productive
capacity; this in turn requires the division and co-operation
• — 'that is, the socialization of labor. Hence to obtain the
maximum amount of real liberty and the best economy in the
production of happiness, it is essential to secure socialism in
production while preserving individualism in consumption.

Now, by what means do the advocates of drift seek to establish
the criteria by which we may judge when individual liberty may
be restrained by law and when it may not. Inspection shows
that a single method is adopted. A greater or less number of
instances in which individual liberty has been restrained in a
manner to cause distress and increase misery are cited and the
conclusion drawn therefrom that the restraint of individual
liberty is therefore always a bad thing. Unless we have mis
taken the nature of common sense, we should, in order to reason
from aposteriori grounds concerning the effect of governmental
action in increasing or decreasing real liberty, seek data of
the following classes: (1) A fair sample of the effect of govern
ment action in increasing the real liberty of communities: (2)
A fair sample of the effect of action in diminishing it: (3) A
fair sample of the effect of inaction in increasing said liberty:
(4) A fair sample of the effect of inaction in diminishing it.
Only from such data could we formulate even a general rule as
to the effect of the action of government on the real liberty of
communities, and even then we should have no means of telling
whether action was preferable to inaction in particular cases.
Data of the kind designated in class (2) is that to which advo
cates of the current policy of drift almost exclusively confine

348 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [BOOK II

themselves, and their examples are largely drawn from the acts
of monarchical governments whose function has never been
deemed the promotion of happiness. Such a one-sided mode of
induction can have little value. It is doubtful if experience
furnishes the means of formulating a law which can furnish any
useful relation between governmental inactivity and desirability.
Certainly none has yet been formulated. Each proposed policy
should be judged solely on its own merits, and that which is most
useful adopted ; that which is not., rejected. Neither action nor
inaction have any necessary relation to utility.

In our day the doctrine of let alone is little more than another
buttress of custom, for restrictions of individual liberty which
have become traditional are seldom assailed. The institution
of property is such a restriction, and the genuine anarchist, more
consistent than his conventionalized prototype, assails this as he
does all restrictions. The institution of property is a product
of custom, more or less tempered by common sense. Private
property in material objects consists in certain legal restrictions
whereby the control and disposal of such objects is confined, in
a greater or less degree, to one or a few persons. The degree of
control varies a great deal, so that the term property is not very
definite. Property is founded upon legal prohibitions, upon re
strictions of individual liberty, for the control and disposal of a
material object can be confined to its owner, only by denying like
control and disposal to all others. That opportunity is thus
forfeited by some or many among those others is obvious. Hence
liberty is restricted by the laws which establish private property.
But the important question is as to the total effect of such re
striction. Is the real liberty of the community increased or
diminished by it? The answer is that it is sometimes increased
and sometimes diminished. The legal title to a house and its con
tents by an individual restrains all other individuals from enter
ing the house and making use of its contents in the manner open
to the owner, and if this was the only effect of granting legal
title to houses, the liberty of the community would be dimin
ished by property in houses. But it is not the only effect. The
real liberty of the owner of the house is increased by the security
granted by law. He is not compelled to protect himself from
dispossession and despoilment by others ; thus he can avail him
self of much opportunity which otherwise would not be open to
him. He is at liberty to leave his house, protected by law, and
seek pleasure and profit elsewhere. He is at liberty to sleep
undisturbed at night, and to anticipate unchallenged enjoyment

CHAP. IX] LIBERTY

349

of his house in the future. He is at liberty to feel the peace of
security instead of the alarm of insecurity. It is true that the
same restriction which thus adds to his opportunity also sub-
stracts from it whatever opportunity would be yielded by despoil
ing and dispossessing his neighbor, but for the average man
much more opportunity is gained than is lost by this restriction,
and thus legal restraint has caused real liberty to increase. On
the other hand, consider a case of the effect of private ownership
on the agricultural population of Great Britain, as brought out
by Marx. In this case the legal restraint involved in the in
stitution of property diminished the liberty of the community.
The first kind of private property is useful — the second is not.

" The last process of wholesale expropriation of the agricultural
population from the soil is, finally, the so-called clearing of
estates, i. e., the sweeping men off them. All the English methods
hitherto considered culminated in ' clearing.' As we saw in
the picture of modern conditions given in a former chapter, where
there are no more independent peasants to get rid of, the ' clearing '
of cottages begins; so that the agricultural laborers do not find
on the soil cultivated by them even the spot necessary for their
own ^ housing. But what 'clearing of estates' really and properly
signifies, we learn only in the promised land of modern romance,
the Highlands of Scotland. There the process is distinguished by
its systematic character, by the magnitude of the scale on which it
is carried out at one blow (in Ireland landlords have gone to the
length of sweeping away several villages at once; in Scotland
areas as large as German principalities are dealt with), finally by
the peculiar form of property, under which the embezzled lands
were held.

. . . As an example of the method obtaining in the 19th
century, the * clearing ' made by the Duchess of Sutherland will
suffice here. This person, well instructed in economy, resolved,
on entering upon her government, to effect a radical cure, and to
turn the whole country, whose population had already been by
earlier processes of the like kind, reduced to 15,000, into a sheep-
walk. From 1814 to 1820 these 15,000 inhabitants, about 3,000
families, were systematically hunted and rooted out. All their
villages were destroyed and burnt, all their fields turned into
pasturage. British soldiers enforced this eviction, and came to
blows with the inhabitants. One old woman was burnt to death
in the flames of the hut, which she refused to leave. Thus this
fine lady appropriated 794,000 acres of land that had from time
immemorial belonged to the clan. She assigned to the expelled
inhabitants about 6,000 acres on the sea-shore — 2 acres per family.
The 6,000 acres had until this time lain waste, and brought in no
income to their, owners. The Duchess, in the nobility of her

350 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [BOOK II

heart, actually went so far as to let these at an average rent of
2s. 6d. per acre to the clansmen, who for centuries had shed their
blood for her family. The whole of the stolen clan-land she
divided into 29 great sheep-farms, each inhabited by a single
family, for the most part imported English farm-servants. In the
year 1835 the 15,000 Gaels were already replaced by 131,000 sheep.
The remnant of the aborigines flung on the sea-shore, tried to live
by catching fish. They became amphibious, and lived as an
English author says, half on land and half on water, and withal
only half on both.

"But the brave Gaels must expiate yet more bitterly their
idolatry, romantic and of the mountains, for the ' great men ' of
the clan. The smell of their fish rose to the noses of the great
men. They scented some profit in it, and let the sea-shore to the
great fishmongers of London. For the second time the Gaels were
hunted out." *

It is not my purpose here to discuss the legitimate limits of the
restriction of individual liberty involved in the institution of
property. That there are limits, and that they are at the
present day exceeded, resulting in a decrease of the real liberty
of the community, is obvious. I discuss property at this point
at all, principally to show that it is simply an expedient to
restrict individual liberty, and may be used either to increase or
diminish the real liberty of the average individual. There is
nothing " inalienable " in a property right any more than in any
other right, and property in this or that object should be con
ferred or withheld in strict conformity with the rule of common
sense. When it is more useful to confer it than not, then confer
it; when it is not, do not; and in its dogma free applications,
the law follows this rule admirably, as in the following example :

An individual A, by paying a certain sum and observing cer
tain legal forms, acquires property in certain lands in a certain
city. His title prohibits the trespass of others upon his domain
without his consent. This constitutes a restriction upon the
liberty of some among those thus prohibited from trespass. The
interests of the city require that a street be cut through the
land owned by A. Therefore, the city alienates his property
rights, removes the restriction upon the liberty of others, and
restricts the liberty of A by denying him the opportunity in
volved in those rights. Thus the land becomes public property
and is open to the use of everyone. But suppose that some
organization desires to parade through the street and obtains a

i Capital, p. 752.

CHAP. IX] LIBERTY 351

permit for that purpose. During the parade the street is no
longer open to everybody. Vehicles cannot pass through it, and
its use is by law confined to certain individuals. Thus the right
of the public in their street is alienated. Suppose now, that
a fire breaks out in the vicinity and that to reach it the fire
engines must traverse the street occupied by the parade. The
exclusive right to the street by the paraders is at once alien
ated and the engine permitted to pass. Thus the law suc
cessively grants exclusive control over a piece of land, then
withdraws it, grants it again, and again withdraws it, according
as it is useful or not useful to do so. This is common sense. In
such a case no question is raised about inalienable rights or the
restriction of individual liberty, because these applications of
common sense happen to be customary. Now, precisely the
principle which governs in this case should govern in all cases,
and property in one thing or another should be granted or with
held in strict conformity to the principle of utility. All we
should ask is : Is it presumably more useful to do it than not to
do it ? This once answered by a direct appeal to experience, such
questions as " Is it conservative ? " " Is it economic ? " " Does
it deny an inalienable right?" "Does it restrict individual
liberty?" "Does it set a dangerous precedent?" require no
consideration, since the answers to any or all of them would be
derived from data which, if pertinent, could be applied directly
in deciding the question of utility. We shall later encounter
instances in which this simple rule of utility is notoriously

^luseiy connected with the subject of legal liberty is that of
leo-al right and the relation of legal to moral rights among men.
There is no disagreement about the nature of a legal right.
simply any alternative not prohibited by law. But what is a
moral rio-ht? The literature of politics teems with loose ass<
tions about the "rights of the people," or this or that class
among them — such as the "rights of capital," "the rights of
labor," etc., and that which is referred to is evidently seldom a
leo-al right. The failure of men to come to any agreement as tc
what constitutes a moral right is but one consequence of leaving
the word right undefined. The moral rights about which
orators declaim are generally determined by the customs i
which communities happen to drift in the course of their his
A privilege if customary is deemed a right. Yet men cannot
help perceiving that these rights founded upon custom are often
opposed to common sense, and many of them have been abolished.

352 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART I [BooK II

When the common sense standard of right clashes with the
standard set by custom, there is always indignant protest from
those whose privileges are threatened. Thus King John when
forced to sign the Magna Charta was convinced that his
" rights " were being wickedly taken from him. Throughout
history whenever by statute, revolution, or otherwise, any form
of parasitism of one class upon another, sanctioned by custom,
has been eliminated, the parasitic class has always complained
that their " rights " have been invaded, and the same notion
about the nature of a moral right is as prevalent to-day as it
always has been. It is wholly unacceptable to common sense.

But common sense once accepted as a guide, matters become
very simple. No man has a moral right to do wrong, which is
but to say that no man has a moral right to choose any alterna
tive but that which will presumably result in the maximum
surplus of happiness. Hence moral rights are simply right alter
natives, and no others. Rights are identical with duties. A
use-judgment alone can determine them, and they are not prod
ucts of custom. If the reader is not satisfied with this definition,
let him attempt to frame one for himself. It is difficult to see
how any other useful definition can be framed without implying
that right is wrong.

Now, it is the duty of society in its quest after the maximum
output of happiness to restrict the acts of men, so far as is pos
sible, to right acts. As will appear presently, governments are,
or should be, mechanisms whereby a community is enabled to
act as a unit ; hence the legal restraints imposed by governments
should simply be those which tend to confine the acts of men
to right acts. In short, it is the function of government, first to
convert moral into legal rights by the enactment of laws — this
is the function of the legislative department; second, to ad
minister said laws in specific cases — this is the function of the
judiciary department; third, to carry out the laws as administered
— this is the function of the executive department. The sphere
of governmental activities cannot be justly restricted by any
artificial or traditional distinctions between those things which
a government can do, and those things which it cannot do.
Every such distinction is purely arbitrary. Common sense re
quires that the acts of society shall be governed l)y the same
rules which govern the ordinary acts of an individual, or of two,
three, six, or a score, of individuals acting together, since society
is no more than a larger aggregate of exactly the same nature.
If this is kept clearly in mind, I apprehend little disagreement
of a vital nature with what is to follow.

BOOK III

THE TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS
PART TWO— APPLIED

23 353

CHAPTER X

THE SOCIAL MECHANISM

In seeking the solution of the problem of happiness the un
changeable laws of creation are our only limitations. In the
preceding book we have been engaged in examining the most
vital of those laws in order to deduce from them criteria from
which to evolve, and by which to test, means adapted to the
solution of that problem. This examination has led to the sub
stitution of eight criteria for one as a guide to the conduct of
society, with an accompanying loss in generality, but a more
than compensating gain in concreteness. The first stage of our
task is thus completed — we have formulated the theory of the
technology of happiness — we must now apply it — we have
gained in concreteness, but we have not gained enough. Me
chanical technology is not confined to the consideration of
statics, kinematics, and kinetics — these merely embody the
theory of the subject. Applied mechanics concerns itself with
the practice of that theory — with the application of mechanical
laws to concrete material mechanisms. Similarly, the technology
of happiness is not confined to the mere theory of the subject,
To attain the usefulness of which it is capable it must direct
itself to the practice of that theory — to the application of the
appropriate laws of nature and human nature to concrete non-
material mechanisms — to social systems — whose modes of op
eration must be adjudged good or bad according as they are
adapted or unadapted to achieve the object of utility. In the
present book I intend thus to apply the theory formulated m
Book II directly to the conduct of society — to exhibit it as an
actual working test of proposed or practised policies. _

The future conduct of society must and will consist of some
definite assemblage of voluntary acts occurring in a definite
order of succession, and while the law of causation remains in
tact the output of happiness of society will be a function of its
future conduct. Experience yields ample reason to believe that
of the indefinite number of congeries of acts which might con
stitute the conduct of society, all are not equally adapted to the

355

356 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS— PART II [BooK III

end of utility, but that some are better adapted than others.
This being the case, it is clear that to guide the conduct of
society toward utility and away from inutility would be a use
ful thing to do. But to guide society in any direction is to do
neither more nor less than to control its acts, and to exercise
control, a means of exercising it must be available. Two dis
tinct methods of exercising control over the conduct of society
are proposable : (1) The anarchical : (2) the non-anarchical

The anarchical method consists simply in leaving everything
to nature, permitting each individual to do as he pleases and
follow his own impulses which, as they impel him toward per
sonal pleasure and away from personal pain, will tend — accord
ing to the anarchist — on the whole, to attain the end of utility.
Anarchy requires the absence of all artificial control of the con
duct of so'dety. The objections to this method are sufficiently
treated in other portions of this work.

As the anarchical method of control is control by nature alone,
the only alternative to it must be some method in which men
voluntarily modify the course of nature in order to deflect the
conduct of society in a greater or less degree from that which
would result under anarchy. The device, or instrument, by
means of which this is accomplished is known as government.
The non-anarchical methods of control may be divided into two
classes: (1) The oligarchical: (2) The democratic.

The first method consists in controlling the conduct of society
in conformity with the approval or disapproval of some person,
or class of persons, constituting a small fraction of the total, the
selection of said person or persons being determined by some
means other than the will of society itself. Oligarchy requires
that the conduct of society shall be subject to artificial control,
but that said control shall not be exercised by society. The
extreme case of oligarchical control is autocratic control, the
approval or disapproval of a single person controlling public
conduct. Oligarchical control of government is practically uni
versal at the present time. It is typical of all forms of mon
archy, and is an essential feature thereof. It is also typical of
all actual examples of democracy, though it is not an essential
feature thereof.

Were it possible to so select the ruling body in an oligarchy
that its inclinations were identical, or approximately identical,
with those of Justice, this form of control would be a just one.
But no method of doing this has ever been proposed. Thus some
form of control which consults the will and interest of the

CHAP. X] THE SOCIAL MECHANISM 357

persons controlled is preferable. As Leibnitz says: "Men will
prefer to have their own will, and look themselves after their
own welfare, until they have confidence in the supreme wisdom
and power of their rulers." In an oligarchy there is no pre
sumption that the approval or disapproval which constitutes the
guide to social conduct will be identical with that of Justice, or
even approximately so. This is the peculiar defect of oligarch
ical control, and it is manifest throughout all history, and never
more manifest than at the present time.

The second or democratic method consists in making the ap
proval or disapproval of a majority of the adults (usually the
male adults) of a community, the test of what the community
as a whole shall do. The theory of democratic control is simple.
The nearest approach possible to the will of Justice will be the
will of that portion of society capable of employing common
sense as a guide to conduct. Hence their control will approx
imate more closely to the control of Justice than that of any
portion selected by other means. The Declaration of Inde
pendence affirms that governments derive " their just powers
from the consent of the governed," and no other just source of
governmental power has ever been consistently maintained.
Democracy requires that conduct affecting the interests of society
shall be controlled by society.

Any attempt to put the theory of democracy into practice,
however, encounters serious obstacles. The difficulty of dis
tinguishing those who are capable of exercising judgment from
those who are not is such that distinctions so loosely approximate
as to be almost arbitrary have to be resorted to. Thus the
separation of voters from non-voters by an arbitrary age limit is
a very unsatisfactory expedient, and the employment of sex as a
distinction is still less defensible. Another difficulty arises from
the great number of persons whose will is the source of control.
In small communities, such as the towns of New England, it is
practical for the whole voting community to meet in one spot
and express their will, but in large communities this is im
possible — hence the resort to representative government, in
which communities are represented by individuals, who them
selves exercise control. The introduction of this expedient,
whereby the people and their government are distinct, makes
it possible to defeat the will of society by controlling its govern
ment, and in every community there are large classes of persons
willing and anxious to do this, in order to further their own
interests. Thus far every attempt at the application of the

358 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BOOK III

democratic theory of control has been thwarted by the activity
of such self-seeking classes ; hence all democracies are,, in reality,
but mitigated oligarchies. Whether we consider the states of
Greece in ancient times, or the United States of America in
modern times, the same deterioration of democracy into oli
garchy is to be observed. There are plenty of nominal democ
racies in the world, but no real ones. Whatever the form of
government, it is probable that any community divided into two
or more classes of antagonistic interests will sooner or later be
come of the oligarchical type ; though it is not to be denied that
a mechanism sufficiently adapted to the expression of the people's
will might prevent this. It is no part of the purpose of this
work to enter into a general discussion of the proper structure
of such a mechanism, though it may be remarked in passing
that means are proposable much better adapted to this end than
any now practised.

Among the most important of them are the initiative and ref
erendum-, constituting means whereby an approximation to direct
legislation may be secured. These devices are, in reality, ex
tensions of the town meeting principle, whereby the people vote
directly for measures, instead of for men, and thus legislate for
themselves instead of trusting to the readily deranged and cor
rupted representative system. The details of the initiative and
referendum I shall not discuss here — they are capable of much
variation and have stood the test of long trial — notably in
Switzerland. Every democracy should adopt them as the most
efficient means yet proposed of preventing lapse into oligarchy.
The referendum has been occasionally employed in this country
by states and municipalities, and it is one of the means pre
scribed in the Federal Constitution for securing amendments to
that instrument. No evils have thus far developed in its em
ployment. The fact that in many instances of the use of the
referendum a majority of the voters have not troubled them
selves to record their preferences has often been cited as a reason
why the opportunity to record them should be denied the people
altogether. Such a criticism is shallow. Because a majority
does not care to express its preferences on some matter in which
it is not interested affords no reason for believing that it does
not care to express them on matters in which it is interested.
Whenever the measures on which the people are called upon to
directly decide have an essential relation to their happiness they
will take sufficient interest to vote upon them, and the state in
which the opportunity to do so is denied them has but an in-

CHAP. X] THE SOCIAL MECHANISM 359

ferior claim to the name of a democracy. As a supplement to
direct legislation, an indirect system is essential in all large
communities, but as the sole means of transcribing the will of
the people into law it is imperfect and unsafe. The present
party system in the United States, for example, is but a
bungling affair, and self-seekers have not usually encountered
much difficulty in using it to defeat the people's will. Despite
its defects, the democratic theory is the only reasonable one thus
far proposed, since no other creates even a moderate presump
tion that the control of the conduct of society will be in the
interests of Justice.

There is, nevertheless, one serious objection to the democratic
theory of control, viz., that the interests of a vast majority of
those affected by the conduct of the present generation are not
represented in, nor often consulted by, the controlling govern
ment. I refer to the interests of posterity, whose right to be
considered is immeasureably greater than that of any single
generation. This objection, however, is one which applies to all
systems and is probably irremediable. Were a system devisable
which recognized and preserved the paramount rights of poster
ity, it would be more just than any yet proposed. Apparently
the best that can be done is to make manifest to the public in
how many particulars the interests of one generation are actually
identical with those of their posterity, and in those particulars
in which they are not, to trust to the sense of justice which a
cultivated understanding of the nature of morality tends to
develop. To trust to the sense of justice of a community will,
under any system, afford a less presumption of success than to
trust to 'its self-interest, but the presumption will be greater
when morality is subject to the test of common sense than
when, as at present, it is subject to that of intuition, since to
make conscience the criterion of right instead of right the
criterion of conscience is not likely to result in a reign of
righteousness. .

The anarchical, the oligarchical, and the democratic, forms ot
control are the only distinct forms which have ever been pro
posed, but there are many indistinct forms, founded on no
definite principle and having their origin in the accidents of
history These comprise all forms in actual practice, and they
consist of the first two, or of all three, forms in combination. It
would be futile to attempt to distinguish in what degree
three forms or methods of control share m determining the
conduct of society. The anarchical form, of course, predom-

360 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BOOK III

mates, determining the bulk of all human activities throughout
the world.

As science first encroaches upon intuitionism from the
material side, its effect upon nations emerging from medieval
ism is to promote an industrial development out of proportion to
their moral development. The means of producing desiderata
are stimulated beyond the capacity of the community to put
them to useful purposes, and the efficiency of production is in
creased far more than that of consumption. Thus have arisen
the great commercial nations of modern times — all hands and
no head — with great capacity for doing things, but without
capacity to distinguish what things are useful to do. Like ships
with huge engines, but rudderless, they rush feverishly and aim
lessly about, not knowing their goal and hence powerless to lay
their course. They use common sense as a guide to proximate
ends, but intuition as a guide to ultimate ends. Thus, materi
ally they are modern, but morally they remain mediaeval.

In the discussion which follows I shall confine attention to
social mechanisms which embody the democratic principle of con
trol, since no other has any interest to utilitarianism. In the
particular stage of development in which modern democracies find
themselves, there are open four forms of social mechanism to
one or the other of which they must resort. Though there may
be variation in detail, it is difficult to see how an industrial state
not belonging to one or the other of these forms can remain in
any degree democratic. They may be called in the order of
their development in time (1) Natural competition, (2) Arti
ficial competition, (3) Pseudo-socialism, (4) Socialism. I
shall in the. chapters following test these alternative forms by
means of the criteria formulated in the preceding book, and
from the data thus obtained shall attempt the construction of a
concrete social mechanism which shall fulfil the requirements of
common sense, and be adapted to attain the end of utility.

CHAPTEE XI

COMPETITION

Among the proposed methods of attaining the object of society
is that embodied in competition. It may be contended that
competition is not a method deliberately employed by society to
gain its ends, because by simply letting things alone competition
operates automatically, and hence is not a means voluntarily
selected, but is something which " just happens." Such a con
tention can be allowed only on the supposition that society has
no alternative — that no other means of accomplishing her ends
can be suggested — for it is undeniable that where no alterna
tives exist there can be no voluntary act. Such other alterna
tives exist, however, and therefore we must regard competition
as a means deliberately selected by men on account of its sup
posed adaptability to the attainment of their ends. The fact
that it involves inactivity does not make it any the less a volun
tarily selected alternative. To let things alone is to exercise
volition so long as they are let alone voluntarily. To maintain
otherwise is but the claim of the fatalist, and fatalism in a
community cannot escape the charge of absurdity on the ground
that it avoids volition, any more than in an individual.

The theory of competitive beneficence is a direct corollary of
the theory of natural beneficence and none is more widely
accepted and more dogmatically maintained. Competition, we
are told, is a law of nature and therefore beneficial. Such
benefit as competition in nature involves may be revealed by a
brief examination of the subject, for it may be admitted that
competition is a law of nature in the sense in which writers on
social topics use that term ; that is, it is a process to be observed
in nature. Perhaps the character of the perfectly natural
process cannot be better described than in the words of that
famous observer of nature — Charles Darwin. In his work on
the Origin of Species he remarks that " The elder De Candolle
and Lyell have largely and philosophically shown that all organic
beings are exposed to severe competition," and adds : " Nothing
is easier than to admit in words the truth of the universal

361

362 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [Booii III

struggle for life/' He then proceeds to describe the process as
follows :

" A struggle for existence inevitably follows from the high rate
at which all organic beings tend to increase. Every being, which
during its natural lifetime produces several eggs or seeds, must
suffer destruction during some period of its life, and during some
season or occasional year, otherwise, on the principle of geomet
rical increase, its numbers would quickly become so inordinately
great that no country could support the product. Hence, as more
individuals are produced than can possibly survive, there must
in every case be a struggle for existence, either one individual with
another of the same species, or with the individuals of distinct
species, or with the physical conditions of life. It is the doctrine
of Malthus applied with manifold force to the whole animal and
vegetable kingdoms; for in this case there can be no artificial in
crease of food, and no prudential restraint from marriage. Al
though some species may be now increasing, more or less rapidly,
in numbers, all can not do so, for the world would not hold them.

" There is no exception to the rule that every organic being
naturally increases at so high a rate, that, if not destroyed, the
earth would soon be covered by the progeny of a single pair.
Even slow-breeding man has doubled in twenty-five years, and at
this rate, in less than a thousand years, there would literally not
be standing-room for his progeny." l

Competition in nature., then, is a struggle for existence — a
process whereby continually increasing numbers of individuals
contend with one another for the available means of sub
sistence. As observed in human society, however, competition is
restricted in many different modes and degrees. It is only in
communities which have not a trace of government that it is
unrestricted. When each individual is able to act upon the
impulse of the moment, unrestrained by any legal regulation,
competition is unrestricted. Such a condition obtains among
animals, and perhaps among such communities as those of the
pygmies of Africa. It is the only pure individualism, and in
volves the maximum legal liberty. As soon as legal restraint
upon the acts of individuals in the interest of society is imposed,
pure individualism is at an end and anti-individualism begins.
The term socialism is evidently adapted to stand for that which
is opposed to individualism, but as it happens, this term has al
ready been confined to certain relatively high degrees of anti-
individualism, and hence is not available for this purpose. It is

i Origin of Species; Chap. 3.

CHAP. XI] COMPETITION 363

no part of my object to discuss the various forms of restricted
competition which human society in its various stages presents,
nor to trace how, by the slow change of custom and the sub
stitution of one dogma for another, the present system of com
petition has been evolved. Karl Marx has already treated this
subject historically with great thoroughness. The particular
stage at present attained by European countries and America
has been appropriately called the capitalistic system. It is to
the effect upon happiness of competition as observed under the
capitalistic system that I wish to direct discussion. Its politi
cal philosophy is embodied principally in the laissez faire school
of economics already referred to.

Capital is denned as wealth devoted to purposes of production.
It is generally divided into two classes — circulating and fixed
capital. Mill thus discusses them :

" Of the capital engaged in the production of any commodity,
there is a part, wh'ich, after being once used, exists no longer as
capital; is no longer capable of rendering service to production,
or at least not the same service, nor to the same sort of production.
Such, for example, is the portion of capital which consists oi
materials. The tallow and alkali of which soap is made, once
used in the manufacture, are destroyed as alkali and tallow; and
cannot be employed any further in the soap manufacture, though
in their altered condition, as soap, they are capable of being used
as a material or an instrument in other branches of manufacture.
In the same division must be placed the portion of capital which
is paid as the wages, or consumed as the subsistence of labourers.
That part of the capital of a cotton-spinner which he pays away t<
his workpeople, once so paid, exists no longer as his capital, or as
a cottonspinner's capital: such portion of it as the workmen con
sume, no longer exists as capital at all : even if they save any part
it may now be more properly regarded as a fresh capital, the resi
of a second act of accumulation. Capital which in this manner
fulfils the whole of its office in the production in which it
gaged, by a single use, is called Circulating Capital The 1
which is not very appropriate, is derived from *e circiimstnnce
that this portion of capital requires to be constantly renewed by
the sale of the finished product, and when renewed is perpe ually
parted with in buying materials and paying wages; so that it does
its work, not by being kept, but by changing hands. ^

« Another large portion of capital, however, consists in mstru-
xnents ofproduftion, of a more or less permanent character; which
produce their effect not by being parted with, but by being kept
and the efficacy of which is not exhausted by a single use. To tl
class belong buildings, machinery, and all or most things known

364 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BooK III

by the name of implements or tools. The durability of some of
these is considerable, and their function as productive instruments
is prolonged through many repetitions of the productive operation.
In this class must likewise be included capital sunk (as the ex
pression is) in permanent improvements of land. So also the
capital expended once for all, in the commencement of an under
taking, to prepare the way for subsequent operations : the expense
of opening a mine, for example : of cutting canals, of making roads
or docks. Other examples might be added, but these are sufficient.
Capital which exists in any of these durable shapes, and the return
to which is spread over a period of corresponding duration, is called
Fixed Capital." 1

The owner of capital is called a capitalist. The manipulator
or localize! of capital, or he who employs it for productive pur
poses, is called a laborer. Now the distinguishing characteristic
of the capitalistic system is that the capital of a community is
not owned by those who employ it. Hence arises the familiar
wage system whereby one man or set of men induce other men
to manipulate or localize their capital for them; the wealth re
ceived in exchange for the result of said manipulation or
localization being divided between capitalist and laborer. The
part received by the capitalist is called profit; that received by
the laborer is called wages or salary. In other words, the
capitalist employs the laborer and the laborer employs the
capital; the result is profit for the capitalist, and wages for the
laborer — both resulting from the employment of capital by
labor. Of course, in any stage of capitalism but the most
primitive there are many kinds of labor which do not involve
the actual handling of the material of production. The
machinery of modern production is so complex that in addition
to the laborers who actually manipulate the materials, or
localize the products, there are many other laborers, such as
managers, clerks, salesmen, office boys, watchmen, etc., all having
their part in the mechanism of production. Sometimes capital
ists 'take part themselves in the business of production, acting
usually in the capacity of managers, directing the activities of
their employees. In this case, of course, they are both capital
ists and laborers, and their recompense, therefore, is partly
wages and partly profit. Frequently, however, no distinction is
made between them, and hence the general implication that all
capitalists perform productive functions because some of them
do. We shall confine the term profit to dividends, rent, and in-

i Political Economy; Book I, Chap. 6.

CHAP. XI] COMPETITION 365

terest, or receipts properly creditable to one or the other class;
that is, profit is what the capitalist receives for the use of his
capital. The land-holder is a capitalist by virtue of his title to
the most universally essential kind of fixed capital, viz., land.
The recompense received by small merchants, farmers., black
smiths, etc. is, according to this definition, rather wages than
profits. Their profits so-called are in reality due only in small
part to their possession of capital, most of it being recompense
for the labor performed by them. This is shown by the fact that
they would receive but a very small part of their actual recom
pense, did they simply sell the use of their capital.

The opposition of interest which competition under the
capitalistic system brings about is of four classes: (1) The op
position between capitalists and their competitors, whereby
profits tend to a minimum: (2) The opposition between laborers
and their competitors, whereby wages tend to a minimum, and
duration of labor to a maximum: (3) The opposition between
buyer and seller, the one striving to decrease, the other to in
crease the price of commodities: (4) The opposition between
capitalists and laborers, the one striving to increase profit at the
expense of wages, the other striving to increase wages at the
expense of profit. The fourth class of opposition is but a
special case of the third ; the capitalist being the buyer and the
laborer the seller of labor.

This opposition of interest between the individuals and
classes of a community is, according to the prevailing school of
economy, a source of benefit; and in theory most men appear
to agree with this view. In practice, however, all classes seek
to avoid it. Everyone is willing that others should meet com
petition but no one likes to meet it himself, and with the process
of time and increase of intelligence, men have found a way to
avoid certain classes of competition. Thus by combination be
tween capitalists, private monopolies are formed and the first
class of opposing interests is abolished. By similar combina
tions between laborers into labor unions, or private labor mo
nopolies, the second class of opposing interests is abolished,
abolish the third and fourth classes of competitive opposition,
sreat efforts have been expended, but so far without much
success. A brief discussion of the fourth class will show why.

The opposed interest of the buyer and seller of labor con
stitutes the so-called labor problem of the present day To solve
it one or both of two objects must be attained. i_ther (1) A
way must be found whereby the relation of profits and wages may

366 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS -PAET II [Boox III

be made such that neither can be increased by a decrease of the
other: or (2) A way must be found of making men as much in
terested in the happiness of their fellow men as they are in their
own. The first requires an alteration in the wage system — the
second an alteration in human nature. Attempts to solve the
problem by both methods have been made.

The attainment of the first object has been sought by the ex
pedient of profit-sharing in various forms, including the issue of
dividend-bearing stock to employees. This expedient has met
with some success, but wherever labor is organized its success is
likely to be inversely proportional to the intelligence of the labor
ers, for the increase in recompense from profit-sharing is neces
sarily so slight as compared with that to be derived from even a
small percentage increase of wages, that the latter method of
bettering their condition will be preferred by laborers who under
stand their own interest; since the resulting loss in their divi
dends cannot be nearly equivalent to the gain in their wages. It
is obvious that it would be perfectly possible to distribute all
profit as wages. Profit, therefore, may be regarded as a fund
withdrawn from wages. To restore a fraction of what has al
ready been withdrawn, clearly cannot compensate for the original
withdrawal. So long as a business is making any profit at all
there is a prospect of increasing wages at its expense, and the
laborers, if the means are available, will attempt to do so.
Whether this attempt is just or not will depend, of course, upon
its effect upon happiness, a subject to which we shall presently
revert. Where labor is not organized, profit-sharing will doubt
less tend to harmonize the interests of capitalist and laborer;
but unfortunately it is usually fear of the power of labor or
ganization which has prompted capitalists to share their profits
with their employees — hence, where labor is unorganized, profit-
sharing is not generally a popular policy among capitalists.

The attainment of the second object has been sought by the
establishment of boards of conciliation and arbitration, or other
means of inducing the parties to a labor controversy to consider
the just claims of their opponents. The difficulty is that in the
absence of any definition of justice, no one can agree upon what
constitutes a just claim. Hence it must be decided by some
purely arbitrary standard, generally founded upon prevailing
customs. If men were unselfish, and each party to the con
troversy were as much concerned in the happiness of the other as
in his own, the strife between capitalist and laborer could be
ended with little difficulty. Hence those who maintain that the

CHAP. XI] COMPETITION 867

Golden Bule, if applied, would solve the labor problem are
correct. But it is equally true and equally pertinent that if
human beings could live on a diet of stones it would solve the
problem of feeding the poor. If men would apply the Golden
Kule, most problems which plague humanity would be solved.
The question is: how are you to induce them to apply it?
Certainly not by simply telling them to do so. Had that method
been effectual the end would have been accomplished long ago.
But if those who maintain the beneficence of competition are
correct, the contention and competition of capitalist and laborer
for an increased share in the product to be divided between
them is not a harm, but a benefit; the labor problem is no
problem at all. Its solution would be a misfortune — since this
constant strife is but one manifestation of wholesome competi
tion, and of that beneficent institution communities cannot have
too much. To abolish the labor problem would be a blow at
competition, of course, and hence would be harmful, just as trusts
and labor unions are harmful according to the same school of
economy.

Now, there are reasons to believe that while human nature
remains as it is, a real solution of the labor problem is incom
patible with the capitalistic system. Competition is its cause,
and it can be cured only by abolishing its cause. .Should some
palliative come to be mistaken for a cure, I believe it would be
a public misfortune. The reasons for this belief will appear in
the discussion which follows, in which the relation of capitalistic
competition to happiness will be examined. The way to discover
the effect of competition upon happiness is to discover its effect
upon the elements of happiness separately. To attempt to ascer
tain its total effect in any other way would but lead to the con
fusion and inconclusiveness so familiar in the current dis
cussions of this all-important question, wherein the effort is
made to evaluate the complex effect of competition without any
analysis of each effect separately. In other words, if competi
tion is beneficial to society, it is beneficial by virtue of its effect
upon one or more of the elements of happiness. Let us then
examine its effect upon each of the elements of happiness, m
order that we may, if possible, locate the point at which its
beneficence enters.

First- What is the effect of competition on the first element ol
happiness? Does it tend to improve the quality of human
beino-s? Does it tend to the development of a high level of in
tellect and character ? If it does, it must be through some effect

368 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS -PART II [BooK III

upon inheritance, or education, or both, since the qualities of
human individuals are functions of these factors and of no
others. First, then, let us consider inheritance.

As acquired characters are not inherited the only mode in
which competition can affect the inheritance of the race is
through selection. Does competition tend to cause those who
possess intelligence, altruism, and will, in marked degree, to
breed faster than those who possess them in less marked degree ?
Does competition tend to improve the human race by its effect
upon breeding? It is a familiar claim that competition does
tend thus to improve the human breed through the effect of
natural selection or the survival of the fittest. Let us then
examine this claim. On page 362 we have quoted Darwin's
description of competition in nature, or the struggle of in
dividuals with one another for the means of subsistence. Now,

members of all species of organisms are subject to variation

no two individuals are exactly alike. Moreover, variations are
transmissible by inheritance. On these simple facts Darwin
founded his famous induction of natural selection thus :

"How will the struggle for existence, briefly discussed in the
last chapter, act in regard to variation? Can the principle of
selection which we have seen is so potent in the hands of man,
apply under nature? I think we shall see that it can act most
efficiently. Let the endless number of slight variations and in
dividual differences occurring in our domestic productions, and
in a lesser degree, in those under nature be borne in mind ; as well
as the strength of _the hereditary tendency. Under domestication,
it may truly be said that the whole organization becomes in some
degree plastic. But the variability which we almost universally
meet with in our domestic productions is not directly produced,
as _ Hooker and Asa Gray have well remarked, by man; he can
neither originate varieties nor prevent their occurrence; he can
only preserve and accumulate such as do occur. Unintentionally
he exposes organic beings to new and changing conditions of life,
and^ variability ensues ; but similar changes of conditions might
and do occur under nature. Let it also be borne in mind how
infinitely complex and close-fitting are the mutual relations of all
organic beings to each other^ and to their physical conditions of
life; and consequently what infinitely varied diversities of struc
ture might be of use to each being under changing conditions of
life. Can it then be thought improbable, seeing that variations
useful to man have undoubtedly occurred, that other variations
useful in some way to each being in the great and complex battle
of life should occur in the course of many successive generations?
If such do occur, can we doubt (remembering that many more indi-

CHAP. XI] COMPETITION 369

viduals are born than can possibly survive) that individuals having
any advantage, however slight, over others, would have the best
chance of surviving and procreating their kind? On the other
hand, we may feel sure that any variation in the least degree in
jurious would be rigidly destroyed. This preservation of favorable
individual differences and variations, and the destruction of those
which are injurious, I have called Natural Selection, or the Sur
vival of the Fittest." l

Thus nature, by always producing many more of a species
than can survive to propagate, and marking those for death who
are least fitted for life, leaves those to propagate who are best
fitted, and hence only a few of the best adapted individuals
survive to perpetuate the species out of the vast number supplied
by each generation. That is to say, nature selects a few from
a great many as breeders of the species, and as these few are
selected because of certain characteristics which distinguish them
as best fitted to survive, these characteristics tend to become
fixed, by inheritance, in the species. Competition, it is to be
observed, is a necessary factor in this process, and Darwin calls
attention to the fact that it is keenest between organisms which
are closely related. He says :

" As the species of the same genus usually have, though by no
means invariably, much similarity in habits and constitution, and
always in structure, the struggle will generally be more severe
between them, if they come into competition with each other, than
between the species of distinct genera."2

From this it appears that the struggle for existence between
individuals of the same species must be very keen indeed. Now,
among primitive men the process of competition is essentially
similar to that among organisms in general; but in civilized
society it assumes a new form. The contention between in
dividuals is one, not for the means of subsistence alone, but for
the means of happiness. The essential feature of the processes,
however, preserved — it is a contention — the gain of one in
dividual is the loss of another, the success of one implies the
failure of others, and the greater the success of one, the greater
the failure of others.

It will be observed that Darwin employs the word useful
in describing the characters which tend to be preserved by the

1 Origin of Species ; Chap. 4.

2 Ibid.

24

fctt) TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BOOK III

process of natural selection. Does he express by that word the
same meaning which we have agreed to express by it? If so.,
then we can see at least one beneficent result of competition., for
if through the struggle for existence useful characters tend to
be more and more preserved and perpetuated in organisms,, then
competition must — at least in effecting this result — be a use
ful process. If the " fittest " characters mean the " most use
ful " characters, then certainly a process which involves the
survival of the fittest will be a beneficent one. We should then
be justified in accepting the reasoning of so many modern
writers who are fond of dwelling on the innate beneficence of
evolution as a natural process. These writers tell us that the
characters which are fittest must be valuable, and a valuable
character is, of course, beneficial. This is very much like the
reasoning employed by physicians of the time of Paracelsus,
when the science of medicine was about in the stage in which
the science of politics is now. They reasoned like this : " That
which is valuable is valuable as a cure/7 " Diamonds, gold, and
frankincense are valuable." " Therefore, diamonds, gold, and
frankincense will be curative/' Acting upon this ratiocinative
process they prescribed for their patients various elaborate
mixtures of pulverized jewels, precious metals, and rare oils
and spices. Specimens of such prescriptions are still pre
served in ancient works on medicine. When it occurred to these
practitioners that gold and jewels were valuable, they neglected
to ask themselves the question : Valuable for what ? Similarly
authors who write of the value of individuals, or character
istics thereof, which are fit, neglect to ask themselves: Fit for
what? Natural selection produces individuals who are fit to
live under conditions of competition. It is a process of the sur
vival of the fittest to- survive. But individuals, or individual
characteristics are useful in the degree in which they tend to
increase the total happiness. Those, however, who are fittest to
survive are not necessarily those fittest to increase the total
happiness, any more than things of a high financial value are
necessarily of a high curative value. A priori, they are as
likely to be the reverse. Thus we see that the human mind
preserves the same kind of deviation from common sense
whether in the stage of medical or political quackery. In fact,
Darwin does not employ the word " useful " in the meaning in
which we employ it. Useful as a means of survival does not
mean useful as a means of happiness, because survival does not
necessarily imply happiness. "But," it may be replied, "the

CHAP. XI] COMPETITION 871

characters which have enabled individuals to live are certainly
useful, since without life there can be no happiness, and it is
these characters which must be possessed by those who survive."
Without dwelling upon the fact that competition does not
create these characters, but only determines their perpetuation
when created, we may point out that although life is a
necessary it is by no means a sufficient condition of happiness.
Any particular life interval to be useful as an end must reveal a
surplus of happiness; otherwise, oblivion or no life at all is
preferable (p. 127). We may point out also that life supplies
likewise a necessary condition of unhappiness, and we shall
presently point out that we have but to add competition, to
obtain the sufficient conditions as well.

It is clear that the reasoning on this subject, so lar as reaso
has been applied to it at all, fails for the same reason that most
sociological and political reasoning fails. Men are not clear i
their own minds as to the nature of usefulness — they do not
know -just what it is that individuals, or those aggregates of in
dividuals called nations, are, or should be, trying to attain; hence
failure in the attempt to specify the means of attaining it.
the case under discussion the end of nature is continually coi
founded with the end of man. These ends are totally different.
Hence we should expect to find that the means of attaining them
are different, and this is what we do find. Nature so far as the
process of natural selection reveals her design, (and we here
speak of design figuratively, since there is no evidence of de-
fberate intent) aims to adapt organisms more and more com-
metely to their environment - to make it increasingly difficult
for related varieties to arise which are better adapted - the test
of their degree of adaptation being their ability to survive in
competition So far as I am aware, non-sentient nature em-
Pryrpeasure and pain as means, but never seeks them as ends
Pain or the expectation of pain, warns animals of danger to
S'lives and prompts them to seek food when hungry and
hence is a « useful » means of insuring the survival of the

372 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT II [BooK III

evitable that the means to be adopted to attain them must be
distinct. If all we seek is survival, nature's methods will serve
our purpose, but if we seek happiness, we must devise very dif
ferent ones.

I now propose to show that were modern competitive ideals
realized, the process of the survival of the fittest to survive would
tend to deteriorate, rather than to improve, the human breed -
to destroy, rather than to develop, intelligence and character. In
Chapter 6 notice has been taken of several influences thus
tending to race deterioration. A more potent influence still,
threatens, due directly to competition. This influence has little
if any effect upon adjustability since that quality is developable
solely, or at least principally, through education; neither is it
materially concerned with health ; but upon the other determi
nants of efficiency of conversion its effects must of necessity be
marked.

It is universally observed and universally conceded that com
petition results in widespread poverty. Now, the effort of the
enlightened communities of to-day is to make competition fair,
i. e., to make each individual's success in the world depend upon
his own intrinsic qualities, and not upon accidents of birth or
station. Success in this effort to give every individual a fair
chance means that those whose intrinsic qualities are not such as
to make them succeed in competition will tend more and more,
through failure, to sink into the poorer, less educated and less
fortunate class, while those whose qualities are such as to lead to
success will tend to become prosperous and wealthy. Now, what
are the intrinsic qualities which, on the average, tend to increase
a man's chance of success in the modern struggle for wealth
and opportunity? They are (1) Intelligence, (2) Will, and
(3) Egotism. The third quality is seldom seriously lacking in
any individual — hence it is not likely to be a critical factor.
But if these are the qualities which tend to success, those which
tend to failure must be (1) Unintelligence, (2) Lack of will,
and (3) Altruism; and it is these, particularly the first two,
which — so far as competition determines their distribution —
will tend to become the characteristics of the poorer classes.
But the poorer and less educated classes — as all students of
sociology admit — are the very ones which breed the fastest-—
they are the classes which contribute the greater number of in
dividuals to each succeeding generation. As men and women
become prosperous they breed more slowly. Hence if we divide
society into a prosperous slow-breeding, and a less prosperous

CHAP. XI] COMPETITION 373

fast-breeding class, and by giving all men a fair chance tend
to locate the intelligent and potent in the first class, and the
unintelligent and impotent in the second, race deterioration is
inevitable, since each generation will be recruited in much
greater decree from the second class than from the first. As
results prove, under competitive conditions, the members of the
second class are those best fitted to survive, and this despite their
higher death rate — but they are not those best fitted to pro
duce a happv communiy. Hence the competitive process of the
survival of the fittest to survive results in the survival of the
unfittest to produce happiness. We may call this the law of Me
survival of the incompetent. If the process of race deterioration
implied by this law were permitted to proceed indefinitely the
human breed would rapidly retrograde toward the simian level,
for the effects of such a process are cumulative or accelerates,
and in accelerative processes the most pronounced effects are
only a matter of time. This process has little effect upon
tastes or needs, or upon altruism, and, indeed, such effect as
has uon the latter quality is good rather than bad In times

.

Thus the very universality of poverty m the past, and the
presence in tt,ey poorer classes of an even quota of the mtelligen
and potent has prevented this source of race deterioration It
is only in reentP times, with the advent of universal education
and the opening of an approach to equal opportunity that the
Sect we havT pointed out ten.ls to come into operation, lo

374 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS— PAET II [BOOK III

tion of the incompetent is probably destined to proceed, unless
by natural or artificial means a thoroughgoing inequality of op
portunity is established. Developed capitalism indeed destroys
equality of opportunity, as is obvious at the present day. Hence
this source of race-degeneracy is scarcely a danger any longer;
but by thus banishing the menace of degeneracy, capitalism will
have destroyed the best ideal of the modern competitive system

— the ideal of equal opportunity. No lover of justice can be
satisfied with such a • solution of the dilemma, yet if poverty
cannot be abolished there is no other.

Little need be said of the effect on public education of com
petition since even by the laissez faire theorists it is acknowl
edged that nothing is to be hoped for from leaving the education
of the people to the unguided beneficence of nature. They are,
to be sure, convinced that as regards most factors in the welfare
of society, nature is beneficent and should be " let alone " to
work out its own ends, but for some unexplained reason benefi
cence appears to desert the operations of nature in the domain
of education, and hence society, by deliberate effort, must pro
vide for it. Competition, of course, trains men in many things

— in particular it teaches them how to get the best of their
fellows; developing quickness of intellect to be sure, but at the
same time fostering dishonesty, suspicion, and other egotistic
traits. There is no community in which such characteristics are
not sufficiently developed. As no one proposes to return to the
system of education provided by nature, however, we need not
discuss the subject. It is in operation wherever barbarism
prevails.

The system of public schools, which, in opposition to the
theory of laissez faire, all enlightened states have adopted, is
one of the most satisfactory efforts of modern society toward
its own betterment. We have already pointed out some of the
defects of that system — due to the self -perpetuating power of
dogma. These defects and many others, however, may be in
time eliminated by the deliberate application of the common
sense of the community — whereas if left to themselves — or to
nature — there would be little prospect of improvement.

Second: As the life of man should be divided between pro
duction and consumption, his desires should be adapted to both
these classes of acts and, other things being equal, the system
which breeds the most satisfaction in work and in recreation will
be the best one.

In promoting adjustability as it affects production, the capital-

CHAP. XI] COMPETITION 375

istic system has no advantages. It does not tend to reconcile
men to excessive labor or to create in them a taste for it. It
makes neither retrospection nor anticipation pleasing. In the
degree in which it discourages hope and tames aspiration it is
successful in producing resignation — a resignation too fre
quently cynical. So far as this adapts the laborer's desires to
inevitable conditions it augments the efficiency of conversion.
Where unpleasant conditions are inevitable it is better to be
resigned than not resigned, but where they are not inevitable,
resignation is bad, since it inhibits the search for, and applica,-
tion of, remedies. One of the commonest and bitterest criticisms
of those who, through agitation, seek a happier condition for
mankind is that they make men dissatisfied with their lot in
life. Such criticism is quite unreasonable. With the knowl
edge at present available the unpleasant conditions of produc
tion which prevail are not inevitable ; hence it is not well that
the laborer should be satisfied with his non-self-supporting life.
If he is satisfied, he should be made unsatisfied. To sleep
well at night is a poor goal for ambition. Those who die
sleep better. A nation whose object is the maximum output of
happiness has no place in its economy for individuals who are
"satisfied" to be unhappy, any more than an engineer whose
object is the maximum generation of steam has a place for
boilers which are " satisfied " to consume coal without produc
ing steam. What useful end is to be subserved if the forests are
cleared from the wilderness only to be replaced by a plantation
of human vegetables ?

The effect of competition on adjustability as it affects con
sumption cannot be deemed beneficial. The dire consequences
of failure in the struggle for existence fill men's minds with
misgiving, even when they are prosperous, haunting the hours
of relaxation of those engaged in the fierce struggle to avoid
them. The desire for competence and independence is the hope
of the many — it is the realization of the few; and such a hope,
forever deferred, and lapsing into hopelessness rather than res
ignation as time goes on, maketh sick the heart of the multi
tude. The consumption of a few in the zone of overconsump-
tion involves the consumption of the many in the zone of under
consumption, and the same system which makes permanent the
first makes the second permanent also. That which secures to
the wealthy their wealth, secures their poverty to the poor.
is idle to say there is plenty of room at the top and to point
to isolated examples of men who have made their way there -

376 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BOOK III

often by devious methods. There is just as much room at the
bottom, and what is more to the point, competition insures that
it shall be occupied. It is not the desires of the few at the top,
but that of the many who are far from the top which must be
fulfilled if the happiness output of the community is to be pos
itive. The necessity which competition imposes of becoming
independent by the acquisition of wealth or suffer ceaseless
struggle, implants in men's minds a fierce desire for money and
they ceaselessly strive to attain it. They usually fail/ but
whether they fail or succeed in their search for money, they lose
in their search for happiness, for win or lose they are never
satisfied. This money-lust, which is but a form of avarice is
becoming the besetting sin of modern life. It is a taste neither
simple nor adaptable and it seems to preclude variety. It is
hard to satiate, and satiable only at the expense of others, for
under competition there are few ways of acquiring wealth ex
cept by attaining a position in which we are enabled to share
in what labor produces without sharing in the labor, or sharing
in it in an insignificant degree. To accomplish this is what the
world calls success, and the great success of one means the great
failure of many. Wealth does not fall from the moon. Hence
if there are those in the community who can avail themselves
of more labor than they perform, it can only be because in the
same community there are those who can avail themselves of
less than they perform. The working classes feel this, though
by the vagueness of the prevailing morality it is concealed from
their understanding. They feel convinced that there is some
thing wrong in such inequality, though they cannot answer the
current sophistries which prove that as it originates in inalien
able rights it must be right — it is legal and hence it is just.
This tends to breed in the minds of the poor envy, or at least
suspicion, and the response of the rich is distrust. Such qual
ities dp not promote a high efficiency of conversion, and the
alienation of classes, however produced, is evidence of an un
economic attitude of mind.

Perhaps nothing illustrates better how uneconomic a taste
money-lust is than its failure to give happiness, even to those
who have attained wealth beyond the dreams of avarice, nor is
there any better illustration of the popular confusion regarding
the goal ^ of society than the frequent citation of this failure to
justify, instead of to condemn, the system which produces it.
When it is pointed out that the present system breeds misery
among the poor, there are those who appear to think that the

CHAP. XI] COMPETITION 877

criticism loses its force because it may be shown that it breeds
misery among the rich also. They tell us that wealth only
leads to anxiety and care — that the capitalist carries a heavier
burden than the laborer — that despite his riches he cannot be
happy, for the cares of wealth are more irksome than the pri
vations of poverty; such is the law of compensation. Who has
not heard this strange plea advanced as evidence of the inherent
justice of the prevailing condition of things? Yet if it be true,
then is the present system doubly damned. If those whose rate
of consumption is too high are as unhappy as those whose rate
is too low it but accentuates the injustice of the prevailing
unequal distribution. It is unfair to both parties and only
emphasizes the need of equal distribution. The only possible
benefit of a high rate of consumption is the happiness it may
yield, and yet we are told that it fails even in this. This is
strange justification. Misery cannot compensate for misery.
Only happiness can compensate for misery, as every man can
learn from a simple inspection of his own mind. Could it be
shown that, under the present system, the happiness of the rich
was so great as to more than compensate for the unhappiness of
the poor, it might afford justification of the system, but if, in
spite of their high rate of consumption, the rich are not happy,
it but emphasizes how ill adapted is the competitive system to
the requirements of human nature.

It is unnecessary here to emphasize the poor economy of con
version involved in luxurious tastes. The evils of excessive lux
ury are a familiar subject of discussion. While such evils may
not be confined to the competitive system, they are inseparable
from any condition involving great inequality in the distribu
tion of wealth, for, as was long since remarked, it is human
nature that increase of appetite should grow by what it feeds
on. Hence they are inseparable from the competitive system.
Competition, indeed, cannot be credited with any tendency to
promote adjustability. Its inevitable separation of society into
classes has the contrary effect, for it breeds desires in all classes
which it cannot satisfy.

The effect of competition upon the health of a community is
acknowledged to be bad. The strain, anxiety, and uncer
tainty of life wears out the nervous system, and poisons many,
even of the few, leisure hours vouchsafed to the average man.
The capitalist is, if anything, worse off than the laborer in this
particular, and frequently trades health for wealth — a poor

378 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAET II [BOOK III

bargain for a business man, since it sacrifices the greater value
to obtain the less.

Third: It is obvious that the natural resources of the earth
cannot be increased by the acts of man, although their accessi
bility can. Eesources created by man are not natural, but arti
ficial. But, though natural resources cannot be increased by
man they may easily be diminished. The effect of competition
upon utility in diminishing them we may estimate more readily
after a consideration of its effect upon the efficiency of con
sumption and upon population has been examined, since it is
upon these factors that it depends. We shall therefore defer
discussion of this element to page 405.

Fourth : Passing to the effect of competition on the employ
ment of the non-sentient factor — of machinery — in produc
tion, we at once encounter that which most economists agree is
the strongest claim of capitalism to beneficence. The develop
ment of the wage system under competition has led to produc
tion on a large scale. Huge factories have displaced the small
workshop of other days, and in every variety of manipulation
and localization the division of labor has adapted modes of pro
duction to the introduction of machinery. Now under compe
tition, other things being equal, that individual, firm, or cor
poration will succeed in highest degree — will make the
greatest profits — which can produce most cheaply ; hence those
who receive the profits will be stimulated to introduce labor-
saving machinery into their operations, because they may there
by dispense with the wages of laborers, since a machine which
will do the work of ten men when operated by one, will obvi
ously dispense with nine men. Thus production is cheapened,
not directly by dispensing with labor, but by dispensing with
laborers employed in a given operation, and liberating their labor
so that it may be employed in other operations. The stimulus
to this mode of increasing the efficiency of production is justly
represented by economists as a very effectual one, since the desire
for wealth in all men is strong, and is not less strong among
capitalists than among other classes of the community. Hence
if the reward of capitalists, whether laboring or non-laboring, is
made a direct function of their success in introducing machinery
into production, their zeal and ingenuity will be assiduously di
rected to that end. The opinions of economists on this point are
well represented in the words of Mill, who says :

CHAP. XI] COMPETITION 379

" We have observed that, as a general rule, the business of life
is better performed when those who have an immediate interest
in it are left to take their own course, uncontrolled either by the
mandate of the law or by the meddling of any public functionary.
The person, or some of the persons, who do the work, are likely
to be better judges than the government of the means of attaining
the particular end at which they aim. Were we to suppose, what
is not very probable, that the government has possessed itself of the
best knowledge which had been acquired up to a given time by
the persons most skilled in the occupation; even then, the indi
vidual agents have so much stronger and more direct an interest
in the result, that the means are far more likely to be improved
and perfected if left to their uncontrolled choice." 1

Let us acknowledge that competition by this mode of increas
ing the efficiency of production has strong claims to approval
and, so far as its immediate, proximate ends are concerned.
affords an excellent means of attaining them. Nevertheless we
must not forget that all means must be judged by their total —
not their partial effect — in the attainment of happiness. Hence
if it should appear that the remote effects of competition in this
particular, neutralize, or more than neutralize, its immediate ef
fects, we cannot approve the system on these grounds. We shall
presently consider some of these more remote effects. But be
fore leaving the present subject, it should be remarked that the
same stimulus which is so strong in inducing capitalists to intro
duce labor-saving machinery into production is equally strong in
inducing them to introduce devices designed, not to save labor,
but to produce inferior products. This subject is so familiar
to everyone and has been so often treated by economists that it
would be superfluous to dilate upon it. The innumerable adul
terations, impostures, and cheats that are everywhere manufac
tured and sold, from wooden nutmegs to watered stocks, are
products of this stimulus to gain. The development of means
of imposition and corruption, like that of other kinds of mechan
ism, accelerates as time goes on. Tt is but a special case of the
progress of an art, and the man who lays the foundation of _his
success by adulterating sugar with sand, or salting a mine,
crowns it'by purchasing a legislature, or perverting public opin
ion through the power of the press. It is characteristic of the
laissez faire economists that for this condition of things they
have no remedy but preaching. Thus Herbert Spencer, after
pointing out many of these products of competition, observes:

i Political Economy; Book V, Chap. 11.

380 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT II [BOOK III

" As for remedy, it manifestly follows that there is none save
a purified public opinion. When that abhorrence which society
now shows to direct theft, is shown to theft of ail degrees of in
directness ; then will these mercantile vices disappear. When not
only the trader who adulterates or gives short measure, but also
the merchant who overtrades, the bank-director who countenances
an exaggerated report, and the railway-director who repudiates his
guarantee, come to be regarded as of the same genus as the pick
pocket, and are treated with like disdain; then will the morals of
trade become what they should be.

" We have little hope, however, that any such higher tone of
public opinion will shortly be reached." x

We agree with Spencer that if we must wait for public opinion
to remedy this condition, the prospect is far from encouraging.
The evil is a growing, not a diminishing, one and has vastly
increased since Spencer wrote. New forms of corruption and
imposture develop every day. Unorganized public opinion such
as .Spencer appeals to cannot check it, and were he consistent he
would have made no appeal to it. Why should he attempt arti
ficially to influence public opinion to condemn such evils — why
not let things take their naturally beneficent course ? Why will
not these evils remedy themselves, like all the other ills which
the operation of natural law incidentally develops ? Why should
the laissez faire economist appeal to unorganized, any more than
to organized, public opinion? This is not a consistent "let
alone " policy ; it is not evidence of faith in the doctrine of benefi
cent drift.

Fifth: The effect of the competitive system upon the skill
and interest of labor is not uniform. Those who direct are
usually interested in the profits to be made and hence have an
incentive to apply themselves in the business of production and
to obtain the maximum production from others at the minimum
wage. For the directive class of labor then, there is incentive to
application, and in a less degree to the acquisition of skill. In
terest and application, indeed, will lead to skill even if no delib
erate means are adopted to attain it.

To the executive class of laborers, however, there is in the com
petitive system but little incentive to either interest or skill ; since
normally^ they can derive but little advantage therefrom. It is,
naturally, the practice of the capitalist to convert into profit any
increase in the returns from labor which may result from an in
crease in the application and skill of his employees. Where labor

iThe Morals of Trade.

CHAP. XI] COMPETITION 381

is unorganized this practice is almost universal, and, indeed,
when competition between capitalists is keen it is essential to
the maintenance of any profit at all, for keen competition makes
failure the price of benevolence on the part of employers. Wher
ever labor is organized, however, and competition in some degree
eliminated, the incentive to application is somewhat increased,
because organization confers the power upon employees of forc
ing their employers to share with them the increased return
resulting from increased application. Among some labor organ
izations, however, a policy is adopted which more than offsets
this incentive — that of limitation of output — a practice of
limiting the output per capita by mutual agreement among labor
ers. This policy is adopted in order to distribute opportunity
for work more uniformly among members of the organization.
It increases the money cost, but not necessarily the labor cost of
commodities. It is particularly frequent where the system of
piece-work prevails and is adopted to offset the policy of em
ployers of diminishing the price paid per piece as the skill and
application of employees and the introduction of machinery
enable the production per capita to increase. It is simply a
method of forcing the employer to forego part of his profit for
the benefit of his employees. The effect of the policy of limita
tion of output upon the efficiency of production will depend upon
the degree to which it is carried. If carried beyond a certain
point it will increase the labor cost as well as the money cost of
production. Nevertheless, as we shall presently see, the effect of
such a policy on the efficiency of consumption is, in generalise
excellent that it more than offsets any loss resulting from dimin
ished efficiency of production. Such a situation appears, and is,
an anomaly, but it is a direct result of a vaster anomaly -
capitalistic system— and is one evidence of how opposed that
svstem is to the interests of society.
" Another result of the absence of interest on the part
waffe earner in the efficiency of production is found m the in
numerable strikes and labor disturbances so common during the
last generation. The immediate effect of these disturbances is
to diminish the efficiency both of production and consumption
but in the aggregate, their remote effect upon the efficiency of
consumption is good, and good in the degree in which i
to suspend the effects of competition. We have already discussed
the essentials of the labor question, and have made evident
antagonism of interest which it implies.

Sixth: If there is one effect of the capitalistic system more

382 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT II [Boon III

generally acknowledged than another it is its effect upon the dis
tribution of wealth. The " prodigious inequality " of which
Mill speaks in a previous quotation (p. 292) is an inequality of
wealth and such unequal distribution appears inseparable from
all varieties of the competitive system, ancient and modern.
In a new country like the United States inequality in the dis
tribution of wealth is not nearly so marked as in Europe and
Asia. Still, it has already become a pronounced feature of our
civilization and is, of necessity, increasing. In colonial days
there was little inequality, but from the conditions of those days
we are departing more and more. The distribution of wealth
among the 12,500,000 families in the United States in 1890 may
be gathered from the following table, which probably embodies
the best figures available:

THE UNITED STATES 1890 *

ESTATES

Number of
Families.

Aggregate
Wealth.

Average
Wealth.

The Wealthy Classes
$50,000 and over

125,000

$33 000 000 000

$264 000

The Well-to-do Classes
$50,000 to $5,000
The Middle Classes
$5,000 to $500
The Poorer Classes
under $500

1,375,000
5,500,000
5,500,000

23,000,000,000
8,200,000,000
800,000,000

16,000
1,500
150

Total . . .

12 500 000

$65 000 000 000

$ 5 200

So universal is this symptom that men very generally have
come to regard it as a sort of law of nature — an unavoidable
and ineradicable ill — and yet it is no more universal than the
competitive system. Because it is inseparable from that system is
no reason for claiming that it is inseparable from any and all
systems. Those who maintain the unavoidableness of inequality
are fond of pointing out that, if by some extraordinary agency
wealth were equally distributed to-morrow it would be but a
few years before the old condition of inequality would again be
attained. The significant thing about this assertion is that it is
true. Instead, however, of seeing in its truth the condemna-

i Charles B. Spahr, " The Present Distribution of Wealth," p. 69.

CHAP. XI] COMPETITION 383

tion of the system which produces such an anomaly, the man of
average training can see nothing but an excuse for doing nothing
— for letting things drift — since if a condition of equal distri
bution, if attained, is destined so soon to lapse again into one
of inequality, it is scarcely worth while to attempt its attainment
If wealth is observed to inevitably gravitate to a condition
of unequal distribution, it must be because something causes it
to do so, must it not? And if this be true, it surely is worth
while to discover the cause or causes of so unfortunate a tendency,
since there is no more essential factor in an economic system
than that of a distribution of wealth at least approximately
equal I shall not here discuss these causes in detail, but shall
deem' it sufficient to remark that if the competitive system were
of such character that under it the acquisition of wealth by
an individual set in operation causes which made further ac
quisition increasingly difficult, any great inequality in distribu
tion would be unknown, since accumulation m a few hands
would be automatically checked. Instead of being of this char
acter however, the competitive system is so constituted as to
produce a contrary result. Inequality, instead of equality of
distribution is the' condition of equilibrium. The more wealth
an individual acquires, the more likely is he to acquire more —
wealth breeds wealth — and hence the desiderata of a community
tend to accumulate in the hands of but a small fraction c
the community. The process is a maleficently accelerative one,
and even more marked in civilized than in savage communities^
Nature then, despite its beneficence, supplies no automatic ch<
to this increasing inequality of distribution. Hence if a check
is to be supplied, it must be supplied by man Whether a method
of accomplishing this desirable result consistent with the charac
teristics of human nature can be suggested, I shall not at this
3 in the discussion attempt to say. It is sufficient to em
phasize the fact that equality of distribution is vital to an eco-
nomc system of society" and"that competition supplies no means
of attaTning it; but/on the contrary, is acknowledged to be

^nth' tntfastsS'o sound economy as the posses-

384: TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT II [BOOK III

mum but the hours of labor tend to a maximum. The effort to
cheapen production in order to increase profits is the rock on
which the system founders. For the comprehension of this mat
ter a rather more critical examination of the present wage sys
tem will be necessary.

There are two kinds of wages — nominal and real. Nominal
wages are measured by the actual number of money units — of
dollars or cents — paid out as recompense to labor. Eeal wages
are measured, so far as measurable, by the amount of pro
duction represented in the desiderata purchasable by said num
ber of money units. It is obvious that real wages are those
which have a direct relation to utility. Nominal wages are
of no consequence, since an average wage of $10.00 per hour
would be no better than one of $ .10, if prices were a hundred
times as high under the first system as under the second.
Under a competitive system, both nominal and real wages
tend to a minimum, though this is often denied. It is a
familiar argument among economists that the tendency of
competition under the wage system to depress wages neutral
izes itself through its effect upon the purchasing power of
wages. Laborer competing with laborer and capitalist with cap
italist, they say, causes both nominal wages and profits to tend
to a minimum ; thus prices tend to a minimum ; but in just the
degree that prices diminish, the purchasing power of nominal
wages increases — hence a general fall of nominal wages does
not interfere with the economy of consumption, since such a fall
causes a corresponding fall in prices, and thus real wages remain
as before. This argument is frequently urged in favor of the
laissez faire doctrine of free trade, i. e., free competition between
nations.

Of course, economists never refer to the economy of consump
tion in so many words ; but it is that economy which they tacitly
recognize as of importance when they propound this theory of
the compensating effect of competition in depressing wages. The
thepry is easily proven fallacious in two ways. (1) Prices do
not fall simultaneously with wages, but there is a considerable
lag, owing to the fact that capitalists generally try to keep their
prices high until forced by competition to lower them, and when
so forced, responding by a shortening of wages. Indeed, it is
this fall of prices which permits, or would permit, an indefinite
fall of nominal wages. Laborers must, naturally, receive some
wages; they must consume some wealth in order to live and to
labor ; hence there is a point below which their wages cannot be

CHAP. XI] COMPETITION 385

forced; this point will depend upon the purchasing power of
wages — it will depend upon prices ; hence as prices fall, nominal
wages can and will fall, and this fall of nominal wages will be a
fall of real wages — since prices will not fall simultaneously.
So long as real wages are more than sufficient to just permit the
laborer to live and labor it is possible to lower them, and if com
petition is keen they will be lowered — what can prevent it?
Certainly not competition — and if something else prevents it —
as at present, in fact, often happens — it cannot be credited to
competition. A general decline of nominal wages and a simul
taneous and proportional decline of prices would not indeed affect
real wages; but this is not what normally occurs. Hence a fall
of nominal, means a fall of real wages. (2) Even if the fall of
prices prevented a fall of real wages, it could not compensate for
the decrease in the indicative ratio which competition inevitably
effects. The pleasure derived from consumption increases with
the rate of consumption and with its duration, but as already
pointed out, it is not proportional to either. For example, eight
hours of consumption at a moderate self-supporting rate cannot
be compensated for by one hour of consumption at a rate eight
times as great. No degree of cheapness of products can com
pensate for an almost total loss of leisure such as unrestricted
competition entails. It is of slight service to men to have com
modities cheap if they must spend practically all of their waking
life in producing them. As Lubbock says: "If wealth is to be
valued because it gives leisure, it would be a mistake to sacrifice
leisure in the struggle for wealth/'

To these considerations, it is probable that two objections will
be made: (1) That under the capitalistic system unrestricted
competition does not determine profits and wages, but that these
are determined by competition and custom. (2) That even
under unrestricted competition profits and wages are functions
of the demand for, and supply of, capital and labor respectively,
and do not always tend to a minimum.

We may admit both of these propositions without invalidating
our contention that competition is destructive of the efficiency
of consumption. Many of the customs which limit the influ
ence of competition have arisen from the imperative need for
protection against the intolerable evils of competition. This^ is
certainly the origin of trusts, labor organizations, and protective
tariffs, all of which are restrictive of competition. If through
its modification by certain customs competition is rendered less
intolerable, this may be deemed a tribute to those customs, but
25

3&6 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAET II [BOOK III

certainly not to competition. In fact, were competition not tem
pered by custom, and custom' tempered by common sense, those
who so stoutly maintain its beneficence would, by the most super
ficial observation, see their error. It is because competition is,
in our day, and particularly in our country, so much modified by
agencies restrictive thereof that delusions regarding its benefi
cence prevail. We shall shortly (p. 401) bring to the reader's
attention data from which he may judge what competition can,
and actually does, accomplish when its restrictions are few and
feeble, and the reader may then confirm for himself our conten
tion respecting the effect of competition on the economy of con
sumption. He will then discover that, left to itself, capitalism
makes the indicative ratio depend upon the endurance of the
workers aoid nothing else. Were no modifying agencies set in
operation by common sense, that race of men who possessed the
greatest capacity for endurance would soon kill by starvation all
others who tried to engage in labor. The Chinese, for instance,
would, in fair and free competition, probably supplant all other
men as laborers in a few generations, and could another suffi
ciently prolific race be found with greater endurance as physical
engines than the Chinese, they in turn would supplant the
Chinese, and the population of 'the earth would, after a while,
consist of little more than a race of toiling vermin whose " fit
ness " to survive would be founded upon their capacity for en
during privation and misery. What use has Justice for such
happiness-producing mechanisms as these?

As to the assertion that real wages are a function of supply
and demand and will therefore, under competition, not tend
to a minimum, but will rise when the demand for labor increases
or the supply decreases and will fall under contrary conditions,
this may be admitted without any substantial change in our
contention. In new countries where the supply of labor is inade
quate, or in occupations where the demand is very variable de
pending, as in agriculture, for example, on the season of the year,
the demand for laborers may exceed the supply. Such a condi
tion, however, is but spasmodic and the rise of wages is transient.
In old countries, where competition has long prevailed, the sup
ply of labor practically always exceeds the demand — one of the
normal products of the capitalistic system is a great army of un
employed who by their competition tend to. keep wages at a
minimum. This has been shown very clearly by Marx, and it
needs but the slightest inspection to confirm it. New countries
cannot remain forever new, and if the competitive system shall

CHAP. XI] COMPETITION &87

continue to prevail it is only a question of time when the whole
earth will have reached a condition that the longer settled parts
have already reached. Let us hope that the people of those
countries whose labor market is not yet hopelessly overstocked
may be delivered from their delusions before it is too late. To
this subject we shall return. At present we desire to emphasize
the effect of competition on the seventh element of happiness —
the primary adjustment.

The indicative ratio, which probably requires a value greater
than one — that is, a consuming day of more than eight hours,
even to make the average life self-supporting, is, by competition,
forced to approach a minimum ; thus precluding all chance of a
self-supporting community. It is to the interest of the capital
ist to make the systematic working day as long as possible, since
by that means his profit is augmented. It is idle to ignore or
to attempt concealment of this obvious fact. Hence so long as
his interests are consulted and his influence prevails the indica
tive ratio will tend to a minimum instead of to the point of maxi
mum efficiency. In other words, this uneconomic tendency is a
direct result of capitalism.

Failure to adjust the indicative ratio to productive and con
sumptive power in the manner specified in Chapter 7 results in
another source of wretched economy. I refer to the recurrent
industrial crises or eras of "hard times7' which are directly
traceable to this failure. The introduction of labor-saving ma-
chinerv bv the capitalist is for the purpose of enhancing his
profits by saving him the wages of laborers. The laborers
thrown out of employment by machinery increase the supply
of labor, and by making competition keener, tend to lower the
wao-es and increase the working hours of laborers m general.
Hence while the introduction of machinery increases the pro
ductive power, it does not increase the consumptive power, and
what is of vital importance it tends rather to dimmish than to
increase the indicative ratio. What is the consequence?
the production of commodities is greatly stimulated their con
sumption is not stimulated in the same degree, if at al . Hence
commodities are not consumed as fast as they are produced and
thev be-in to accumulate in the warehouses. After a while the
supply exceeds the demand and prices begin to fall. Even this
does not stimulate consumption much because the rich are al-
readv largely supplied ; the employed poor have such low wages
and so little time to consume that their consumption is of ne
cessity largely negative, and their consuming power small

aSS TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT II [BOOK III

the unemployed poor are reduced to a minimum of consumption.
Even with falling prices and no profits, however, the capitalist
cannot afford to stop production since, where costly machinery
is employed, the capital invested is so great and the deteriora
tion so rapid that to suspend operations is ruinous and capitalists
prefer to run even at a loss. When the market is already over
stocked such a policy but makes matters worse, and the over
production becomes more marked. Finally suspension has to
come; but while this tends to rectify matters by diminishing
production, it makes them worse by diminishing consumption,
for all the laborers thrown out of employment are reduced to
the minimum of consumption. This still further demoralizes
the market, and other plants suspend, and consumption is still
further reduced. Pauperism and crime increase, more and more
firms fail, each failing firm weakening its creditors, who fail in
their turn — all but the strongest go down like a row of dominoes
and their employees cease to be factors in consumption. The
whole machinery of industry is thrown out of gear and we have
the disconcerting spectacle of a great surplus of commodities
whose owners are only too desirous to sell, an army of laborers
desperately in need thereof and anxious to buy, but unable to get
work and hence unable to buy. So defective is the capitalistic
mechanism that in this condition of affairs there is nothing to
do but wait until those still able to consume have depleted the
accumulated stocks and increased the demand for commodities.
To supply this demand plants begin again to operate, the la
borers therein again to consume above the minimum, the market
gradually strengthens and finally industry is at its height again.
But the growing demand at the beginning of a period of pros
perity over-stimulates the means of supply — machinery is still
further improved — production overtakes consumption again,
and again comes a crisis due to overproduction, or what is a
more appropriate term, to underconsumption; since it is be
cause production is stimulated while consumption is not, or not
stimulated in proportion, that these periodic depressions of busi
ness occur. In fact, while the capitalistic system promotes effi
ciency of production in some degree, it destroys efficiency of
consumption by emphasizing the unequal distribution of wealth,
which is a symptom of all competition, and by failing to increase
the indicative ratio, thus inducing periodic panics. That these
panics are due to the capitalistic system is shown by the fact
that they were unknown before the growth of that system began.

CHAP. XI] COMPETITION 389

During the last century they have recurred,, on the average, once
every ten or eleven years.

To avert crises of this character it is necessary to stimulate
consumption in the same degree as production, but capitalism
has no tendency to do this. Every far-sighted capitalist would be
glad to have his fellow capitalists increase the wages and di
minish the hours of labor of their employees, for thereby his mar
ket would be improved, but he does not want to initiate such a
policy among his own employees, since he would lose more than
he would gain. Hence, instead of thus stimulating the market
at home, capitalists seek to extend their markets into other
lands, for only by so doing can they find an outlet for the com
modities which they produce in excess of the home demand.
Thus arises the race for foreign markets in the effort to capture
which industrial nations compete with one another, and that na
tion which oppresses its producing classes the most will — other
things being equal — win the prize.

Eighth: The tendency of organic beings to increase in geo
metric ratio, upon which Darwin founded his theory of natural
selection through the struggle for existence, finds no exception
in man. Under ordinary conditions of competition the propa
gation of human beings is determined by the same impulses and
proceeds according to the same law as that of cats, or rabbits,
or grasshoppers. The population of any given area tends to
increase until it has reached equilibrium with the capacity of
that area to support further increase of population. This law
is as true for men as for animals and vegetables. Throughout
the organic world, where no artificial restraint is met, the check
to propagation is starvation. Owing to the laws of diminishing
and dwindling returns of labor the pressure of population upon
its means of subsistence begins to produce painful results long
before equilibrium is actually reached. Poverty steadily in
creases until it is checked by death — that is, by the death rate
becoming equal to the birth rate. All uncivilized countries which
have been long enough settled are at or near such a point of
equilibrium. This tendency of populations to increase faster
than their means of subsistence is called the Law of Malthus and
was expressed by its alleged originator as follows :

" Throughout the animal and vegetable kingdoms Nature has
scattered the seeds of life abroad with the most profuse and liberal
hand; but has been comparatively sparing in the room and the
nourishment necessary to rear them. The germs of existence con
tained in this earth, if they could freely develop themselves, would

390 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BOOK III

fill millions of worlds in the course of a few thousand years. Ne
cessity, that imperious, all-pervading law of nature, restrains them
within the prescribed bounds. The race of plants and the race of
animals shrink under this great restrictive law; and man cannot
by any efforts of reason escape from it.

" In plants and irrational animals, the view of the subject is
simple, They are all impelled by a powerful instinct to the in
crease of their species, and this instinct is interrupted by no doubts
about providing for their offspring. Wherever, therefore, there is
liberty, the power of increase is exerted, and the superabundant
effects are repressed afterwards by want of room and nourish
ment.

" The effects of this check on man are more complicated. Im
pelled to the increase of his species by an equally powerful instinct,
reason interrupts his career, and asks him whether he may not
bring beings into the world for whom he cannot provide the
means of support. If he attend to this natural suggestion, the
restriction too frequently produces vice. If he hear it not, the
human race will be constantly endeavoring to increase beyond
the means of subsistence. But as, by that law of our nature which
makes food necessary to the life of man, population can never
actually jncrease beyond the lowest nourishment capable of sup
porting it, a strong check on population, from the difficulty of
acquiring food, must be constantly in operation. This difficulty
must fall somewhere, and must necessarily be severely felt in some
or other of the various forms of misery, or the fear of misery, by
a large portion of mankind.

" That population has this constant tendency to increase beyond
the means of subsistence, and that it is kept to its necessary level
by these causes will sufficiently appear from a review of the differ
ent states of society in which man has existed." 1

The resemblance of this quotation to that from Darwin, al
ready cited, is at once noticeable, and illustrates the close relation
between competition and Malthusianism.

The Law of Malthus, if left uninterpreted, is easily misunder
stood and its validity has often been attacked, notably by Henry
George in his work on " Progress and Poverty/' In fact, if we
understand this law to assert that at every moment throughout
the history of every country the population is, and has been, in
creasing faster than the means of subsistence, then the law is cer
tainly false, but it should not be understood as so asserting. It
merely means that, in the future as in the past, the population
will finally overtake the means of subsistence, provided the
causes which have operated in the past continue to operate in

i Malthus : The Principle of Population.

CHAP. XI] COMPETITION 391

the future — provided the conduct of society is left to nature.
Such a statement is incontrovertible, since there is obviously somo
density of population too large for the earth to support,, and if
the population of the earth is continuously increasing, it must
be continually approaching that density. There have been many
periods in the history of many countries when the means of
subsistence increased faster than the population which was de
pendent upon them, and the present period in all civilized coun
tries is the most notable of them. This is due to the operation
of the law of increasing returns which may, and at present does,
more than offset the law of diminishing returns. Owing to the
application of science or common sense to the business of pro
duction, the law of increasing returns never operated with such
power as to-day, and were wealth fairly equally distributed, pov
erty would now be diminishing throughout the civilized world.
Indeed, it is diminishing in some lands, notably in Australia,
and New Zealand, and even in the United States its increase, ex
cept locally, is a matter of debate.

As the pressure of a population upon its means of subsistence
becomes greater, effort is made to find a. means of relief, and
this is found in migration. Migration always takes place from
points where the pressure of population is greater to points where
it is less, just as water in two vessels communicating with one
another always flows from the higher level to the lower. Such
was the cause of the great influxes which successively flooded
Europe from the East in the early part of the Christian Era,
and such is the cause of the migration from Europe and Asia
to America in our day. Precisely the same phenomenon is to
be observed among animals — they continually extend their range
in search of the means of subsistence until checked by some nat
ural agency. Migration, while it tends to relieve temporarily
the pressure of population in the country from which it takes
place, increases that pressure in the country to which it pro
ceeds, just as water moving from a higher vessel to a lower one,
while it lowers the level in the first, raises it in the second vessel.
Left to itself, the process of migration will continue, until in all
accessible countries the pressure of population upon resources
has been brought to the same point, and then by the increase pi-
population, all will increase their pressure together. That is,
migration at best can result only in temporary relief, and in the
end it merely hastens the day of final equilibrium. Population
will finally come to the same pressure in all lands having inter
communication, just as water will finally come to the same level

392 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BOOK III

in all vessels having inter-communication. The rate of migra
tion will depend upon facility of communication and transporta
tion, just as the rate at which water flows from one vessel to an
other will depend upon the friction in the passage by which they
communicate. Where the facilities of inter-communication be
tween countries are primitive and poor, migration will be slow;
where they are perfected, it will be rapid. Two or three cen
turies ago migration across the Atlantic was a slow operation,
because the means of communication were poor. With the
means furnished to-day a whole nation can migrate in a single
year.

The tendency under competition then is for population to in
crease in quantity and extend in range. Whether this tendency
is a good or a bad one will depend upon whether the output of
happiness of the average individual is positive or negative, and
if positive, whether the consumption of said individual is above
or below the point of maximum efficiency. In the chapter on
the third factor of happiness, we have shown under what condi
tions increase of population is good, and under what conditions
it is bad. Nothing can be more fatal and fatuous than the pre
vailing idea that a large population is a good thing for a nation.
Until the conditions of life are at least such that the average
man can produce a positive surplus of happiness an increase of
population is not so good as a decrease. It appears to be the
prevailing opinion that one hundred miserable persons are better
than ten happy ones, and that the ideal of a modern state should
be to become overpopulated like India and China. Hence that
state whose rapidity of approach to such an overpopulated condi
tion is the highest — other things being equal — is considered
the most successful. Wherever any considerable degree of pov
erty prevails increase of population is a national disease, for
poverty is an unfailing sign that the conditions insuring an aver
age positive output of happiness have not been met; much less
the conditions insuring maximum efficiency of consumption.

It -is clear that if everything is left to nature the time must
eventually come, if it has not come already, when the world will
be overpopulated, and when each human being born will but add
to the surplus of misery. Now if we are to judge a system by its
effects upon happiness it is a matter of indifference when its
effects are produced. Happiness or misery are no better and
no worse in the year 10,000 B. C. than in the year 10,000 A. D.
f they are, then there is no reason why they are not better or
worse on Wednesdays than on Thursdays. Whatever checks may

CHAP. XI] COMPETITION 393

be locally or temporarily applied, there is but one way of pre
venting final overpopulation, and that is by stopping the growth
of population before it reaches, or even remotely approaches, the
point where nature will "stop it by starvation. It is universally
admitted that competition will not do this, and has not the
slightest tendency to do it — hence on this ground alone, benefi
cence must be denied it. The output of misery of a world
brought to equilibrium by nature's expedient — starvation —
would be beyond computation. Perhaps, however, it may be ob
jected that the discussion of this question is too remote for any
human interest, since the earth is yet very far from overpopulated,
and our concern is with the present. Such an objection, I appre
hend, will occur to many readers. But it should not be forgot
ten that our primary purpose in this examination is to discover
whether or not competition is a beneficent process. If it is,
it will meet the test we have applied — otherwise not.

Perhaps, however, to the objection mentioned, a more cogent
reply may be made, viz., that if overpopulation means a popula
tion whose output of happiness under the conditions actually ex
isting is negative, then the world is now, and always has been,
overpopulated — the popular opinion to the contrary notwith
standing. In a world where there is more unhappiness than
happiness a population of one is too great. Can it be_then that
the average man in the world to-day produces a negative output
— a surplus of unhappiness? If so, the output of the world
must be negative. Perhaps the reader may admit this is no
more than an axiom. Perhaps, on the contrary, he may regard
it as utterly absurd. It depends very much upon his knowledge
of the world. All men are prone to judge of the world by the
portion of it which surrounds them. If they and their friends
are happy, they deem the world happy — if they and their
friends are unhappy, they deem the world unhappy, for verily
one-half the world knows not how the other half lives. No sta
tistics exist which can substantiate our assertion, and if the
declamations of exuberant politicians can refute anything we
are refuted. But a moderately accurate test
us apply it — it will be better than none.

The 'United States of America is generally conceded to
the most successful country in the world — at east that ii
prevailing opinion here, and even Europe is inclined to share it.
In our day success is judged by trade, and in trade we are pre
eminent, ^n the United States of America the most successful
locality would generally be conceded to be the city of New York.

394: TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BOOK III

Great cities are peculiarly the product of modern civilization,
and if we would judge that civilization we must judge it by its
products. New York is the richest, the most prosperous, and
possesses the greatest trade of any city "in America. If the cap
italistic system has produced a success anywhere, it should be
here. Hence, if we select New York as a test of what that sys
tem can do as a mechanism for producing happiness we cannot
be accused of choosing an unfavorable example of its handiwork ;
for it is the most successful city of the most successful country
in the world.

Now according to the utilitarian standard no individual or
aggregate of individuals can be considered a success whose con
tribution to the total happiness of society is negative. A city to
be a success must produce, in any given time, hedon-hours in
excess of pathon-hours. Its output per day or per year must be
positive. Is this true of New York City ? To this question the
reader will answer either yes or no. If his answer is no, he
thereby concedes that the capitalistic system is a failure — that
the best it can produce is worse than nothing. If he answers
yes, I invite him to apply two tests, which, if he is familiar
with the metropolis, or with any great city, he can do with no
more trouble to himself than five minutes candid reflection.
First, I invite him in imagination to walk the streets and visit
the habitations of the great metropolis by day and by night, and
carefully to note the evidences of pleasure and pain with an im
partial eye. Let him visit the houses of the rich, the well-to-do,
and the middle classes, and observe their habits and their means
of happiness. Are they ever unhappy — if so, how many hours
a day and what is the intensity of their unhappiness — he may
be sure that during their hours of production they are, on the
average, not happy, though the intensity of pain 'during those
hours may be but slight — and certainly half of their waking
life is spent in production. Are they ever happy — if so, it is
generally during hours of consumption, while eating, attending
entertainments, driving, reading, playing some game, or sitting
quietly at home with family or friends. How many hours a day
•are they doing these things, and what is the average intensity
during these hours? Is it one, three, six, ten hedons — it must
be of some average intensity — we cannot determine what, but let
the reader estimate from his own experience. Let him repeat these
observations among the much greater multitude who live by the
labor of their hands, ranging from the moderately poor to the
destitute — what is their average duration of consumption, and

CHAP. XI] COMPETITION 395

what the intensity thereof ? Let him go through the magnificent
palace of the millionaire, but let him also visit the squalid tene
ment of the victim of poverty, outnumbering the first, five hun
dred to one. Let him not ignore the happiness to be found in
the homes of the well-to-do, the healthy, the morally wholesome
— but neither let him ignore the unhappiness to be found
in the tenement houses, the hospitals, the alms-houses, the gut
ters, the jails, and the dives. Taking a bird's eye view of these
things, let him candidly ask himself "this question : Would you,
or would you not, be willing to experience all the pain felt in
New York in a year, for all the pleasure felt there in the same
time ? This is but inquiring whether the totality of life in New
York is self-supporting. An affirmative answer means that the
total product of the city is, at least, better than nothing. A
negative answer means that it is worse than nothing. How many
men who knew that they would be taken literally at their word,
would dare to answer in the affirmative ?

A second test is suggestible which may perhaps be more readily
put into practice than this one. If, as we have contended, the
test of equivalence of pleasure and pain is preference, as deter
mined by memory rather than anticipation, then the test of
whether a given period has resulted in a surplus of pain or
pleasure to an individual is best ascertained by determining
whether that individual would prefer living over again that pe
riod, or one containing exactly the same quantities of pleasure
and pain, to not living it over again. Let this test be applied
to the average citizen of New York for an average day or an
average year — not to an exceptional citizen for an exceptional
day or an exceptional year. The average man in New York is
a laborer ; he can avail himself of no more, and generally of less,
labor than that which he himself supplies. The average woman
in New York is a laborer also, though not necessarily a wage
laborer. Let inquiry be made of the average adult dweller in
New York at the close of an average day whether he or she is
glad or sorry that the day is done — whether he or she would
prefer living it over again to not living it over again, just as it
was. Can there be any doubt of the result of such an inquiry?
If so, I have yet met 'nobody who cherished one. If it be ob
jected that the fatigue felt at the close of a day of labor pre
cludes a fair judgment at that time (a fair objection) the in
quiry may be varied, applying to a week, a month, a year or a
life-time. The period matters little. Few, even among the
well-to-do, have a balance of happiness in their favor, and the

396 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAET II [Boos III

life of the average man or woman undoubtedly produces a sur
plus of unhappiness. The average child in New York is not a
laborer and not exposed directly to the attrition of competition,
and it is among the children, if anywhere, that a surplus of
pleasure will be found ; yet, when the conditions of the average
child's life in New York are considered, it will be acknowledged
that modern industrial conditions tend to diminish the output
even of these, the most immediately useful members of the human
race ; and it is very doubtful, considering the prevalence of illness,
whether the average child's life in New York is self-supporting.
If it be objected that the average individual must deem life
worth living or he would not consent to live, we may reply that
incurable invalids, life convicts, and many who cannot possibly
produce a positive surplus, consent to live and are reluctant to
die. It is not because they have any reasonable expectation that
the future will be an improvement upon the past that men con
sent to live — it is from the fear of death — an ineradicable in
stinct, common alike to men and animals. Men do not live from
reason but from impulse. They live in perpetual hope that the
next day will be better than the last, and they are perpetually
disappointed. It is not only in great cities that the average indi
vidual produces a negative surplus. It is a universal condition
and it has always been so. The relation between man and his
environment has never been such as to produce a positive sur
plus over any considerable period of time, and keen observers
of human life have not failed to record the fact. Men live on
hope. They " eat the air promise crammed." Says Mont
gomery :

" Who that hath ever been

Could bear to be no more?
Yet who would tread again the scene

He trod through life before ? "

Dryden has expressed the same idea more perfectly in his
Aurengzebe :

"When I consider life, 'tis all a cheat.
Yet fool'd with hope, men favour the deceit;
Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay.
To-morrow's falser than the former day;
Lies worse, and while it says we shall be blest
With some new joys, cuts off what we possest.
Strange cozenage ! none would live past years again,
Yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain;

CHAP. XI] COMPETITION 397

And from the dregs of life think to receive
What the first sprightly running could not give."

Pope condenses the same sentiment into his famous couplet:

"Hope springs eternal in the human breast-
Man never is, but always to le blest."

Shakespeare in Hamlet's well known soliloquy says that only
the dread of something after death " induces men " to grunt
and sweat under a weary life " and Byron in defending his own
estimate of the " nothingness of life " shows that he is but ex
pressing an opinion common to the thinking portion of man
kind :

I say no more than has been said in Dante's
Verse, and by Solomon and Cervantes ; "

"By Swift, by Machiavel, by Kochefoucault,

By Fenelon, by Luther, and by Plato;
By Tillotson, and Wesley, and Rousseau,
Who knew this life was not worth a potato."

But if all this be true, if the human race inevitably achieves
more unhappiness than happiness as a result of its existence, what
shall we say of the system which produces this result? Perhaps
we cannot condemn it for no better may be attainable; but this
much, at least, may be said, that under such a system the less
the number of human beings who exist the better; for the less
the number the less will be the surplus of unhappiness, and none
at all will be the ideal number. In other words, the annihila
tion of the human race is a better policy — a more just policy,
than any form of competition thus far known. Annihilation
would, to be sure, extinguish human happiness, but it would at
the same time extinguish human unhappiness, and it is as true
of an aggregate of individuals as it is of a single one, that non-
existence is better than a surplus of pain, however slight. This
conclusion follows from the very meaning of the word better,
and if the reader thinks that he has in mind a meaning of that
word which does not involve such a conclusion, I recommend
that he attempt to express it to himself.

From these considerations then, we may infer that the city
of New York, the crowning achievement of the modern com
petitive system in the western world, yields a less output of
happiness per acre per day or year than when Hendrick Hudson

398 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [Boon HI

discovered its site — that it was more useful as an undiscovered
wilderness than it is to-day, and contributed more to that output
which it is the only useful object of society to produce — hap
piness. What then shall we think of all the lucubration about
prosperity and national greatness so frequently heard? What
relation, if any, have these things to utility? It would seem to
be the height of presumption for any nation, or any representa
tive of a nation, to boast of its success when universal annihila
tion would result in still greater success — at least a greater suc
cess in the production of anything which it is worth while to
produce.

If we go outside the great cities of America into the rural dis
tricts and apply either of the tests we have suggested, there can
be little doubt that the same condition will be discovered — a
surplus of unhappiness is produced — few will be found who
would wish to live their lives over again year by year ; but it is
significant that the output of unhappiness is less. Not only less
per square mile, but less per average individual than in the
city. The least unhappy portions of a great industrial country
are the quiet farming districts, and these are precisely the parts
of the country in which the capitalistic system of competition
has reached the least development. Few will be inclined to
deny this proposition, and yet what a commentary it furnishes
upon the achievements of modern civilization. It is true that
the city more and more attracts the dweller in the country, but
this is because he counts the chances of success and discounts
the chances of failure. He notices the luxury — he ignores the
squalor. He enters city life as he would a gigantic lottery, see
ing only the prizes ; but, as in any lottery, the prizes are for the
few — the blanks for the many — and this is particularly true of
the great lottery of competition. The few who succeed are con
spicuous ; the many who fail are not ; and thus the real condition
of things is concealed. In the country, competition is less severe,
wealth more evenly distributed, health more general, and were
the indicative ratio and with it the education of the people in
creased, the country districts of America would doubtless begin
to produce a positive output even with no other change.

The normal operation of competition to continually increase
population then is simply a means of increasing unhappiness,
and the migrations which result from this increase are a means
of equalizing unhappiness — of insuring that wherever free com
munication between one nation and another exists that the level
of happiness shall everywhere seek the lowest point — for under

CHAP. XI] COMPETITION 399

such conditions if one nation maintains a low level of happiness
it is only a question of time when all ethers will sink to the
same level. The pressure of population upon subsistence will
tend always to increase and to equalize, just as among animals.
If, as we have sought to show by the best tests available, the
United States is not a self-supporting community, how much
greater must be the negative margin of self-support in those
countries from which the pressure of population continually
forces a stream of migration to our shores. In Europe, with the
possible exception of France and Switzerland, despite the sim
pler tastes of the people, the output of misery per capita is
doubtless higher than in the United States. All the baleful
effects of competition contribute to this result, but the most
potent is that caused by overpopulation which is greater in Europe
than in America simply because the unrestricted natural laws
of increase have operated for a longer period there than here.
In yet more ancient communities where competition has been
unrestricted for longer periods the conditions are worse than in
Europe. In India and China the output of misery is appalling.
So closely have these, the most ancient nations in the world, ap
proached the limit of their means of subsistence, that even a
partial crop failure means a famine in which hundreds of thou
sands, and often millions, die of starvation. The population of
all these old countries is almost at the point of equilibrium, but
it is not a beneficent equilibrium — it is the equilibrium of
nature where starvation places a limit which propagation forever
strives to exceed. It is the ideal furnished by these densely
populated countries that the publicists of our time would have
us approach, and approach as quickly as possible. The pop
ulation cannot grow fast enough to suit them, and they seek to
stimulate it in every way. Without seeking to inquire whether
the average individual produces a positive or negative surplus,
they would hurry the nation toward the point of natural equi
librium and maximum output of misery as rapidly as possible,
on the principle that a great number of miserable beings are
better than a less number of happy ones. It is perhaps useless
to seek to eradicate this notion of the economists of the age, but
we may at least refute the argument by which they seek to
justify 'their opinions. This is, in effect, that, owing to the ad
vance in the arts and the improvements in the efficiency of
production, the civilized countries of the western world can sup
port a much denser population in comfort than the backward
countries of the East can support in discomfort, and hence there

400 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BOOK III

is no fear of overpopulation at this stage of our progress. Now
it may be acknowledged that with the means of production at
hand America, for example, can support a large population in
comfort, but this does not involve the acknowledgment that it
does so. It may be acknowledged that owing to the causes men
tioned, the condition of the average man in western countries is
better than it ever was before; nevertheless this is far from ac
knowledging that any community yet produces a positive surplus
of happiness. This cannot be until the average man is willing
and anxious to live his average day, or month, or year, over again
— and even could it be shown that a given community was self-
supporting, this would not mean that an increase in its numbers
would be desirable. Only communities whose consumption per
capita is greater than that required for maximum efficiency of
consumption can economically increase in numbers, and will
anyone contend that any community has yet attained such a

But perhaps in the last paragraph we have made an admission
which is significant. If it must be acknowledged that in this,
the era of the capitalistic system of competition, the condition
of the average individual is better than ever before, surely the
capitalistic system cannot be wholly bad. It must have its ad
vantages if it is responsible for such a state of things. The fact
is, the capitalistic system is not wholly bad. It has one great
advantage, and it is due to this, and to a variety of restric
tions upon competition, that the present improvement in man's
estate has been brought about — an improvement slight indeed
compared with what is accomplishable by a different adapta
tion of the same means. Intelligent men believe competition
beneficent because they are ignorant of its effects when really
unrestricted. If they are interested to learn what these effects
would be, they need but to ascertain what they have been. Let
them read the story of English industrial life during the first
twQ-thirds of the l9th century, as told by Marx in his work
on " Capital," or that by Dr. Kay on the " Moral and Physical
Condition of the Laboring Classes in England," or let him
read any of the reports so liberally used by these authors. The
story is too long to quote in detail here ; it must be read in de
tail to be appreciated, but as a brief and inadequate condensa
tion of its tragic details the following account by E. J. James
is worth inspection:

CHAP. XI] COMPETITION 401

" The doctrine so long current in political economy and ex
pressed in the motto laissez faire passer, has been thoroughly
exploded by the logic of circumstances. No better proof of this
could be desired than the factory laws of modern industrial nations,
laws which have been of late warmly defended by economists of
every school. The reaction begun by Adam Smith against the
paternal theory and practice of contemporary governments re
sulted in an illogical and untenable theory of the state and its
functions. ' Free Competition ' was the panacea for all eco
nomical ills of society. Everyone was to be free to sell his own
labor and that of his family where he could obtain the most for
it, and free to make such contracts as he would or could. As
England was the first great industrial state of modern times, so
in England the results of such a policy first showed themselves
in all their nakedness. The most merciless exploitation of the
weaker elements of society by the stronger became the rule. The
manufacturers, in their thirst for wealth, paid as little attention
to the health of their operatives as they chose. The laborers in
their necessity were compelled to accept what terms were offered.
The labor of the father soon became insufficient to support the
family. The mother had to go into the coal mine or factory. It
was not enough; the children were sent into the mines and fac
tories. They were compelled to work ten or fifteen hours a day
for seven days in the week, in narrow, illy ventilated and dirty
factory rooms or in still more unhealthy mines. The result of
such work was, of course, the moral and physical deterioration of
the children and a steady degeneration of the laborers from decade
to decade. The conditions prevailing in Great Britain during
the latter part of the last century (the 18th) and the early part
of the present century would be entirely incredible were they not
well attested by the testimony of unimpeachable witnesses. So
crying did the evil become that in 1802, an act was passed 'for
the preservation of the health and morals of apprentices and others
employed in cotton and other mills and cotton and other fac
tories.' This bill owed its passage to the ravages of epidemic dis
eases in the factory districts of Manchester. The illy fed and
overworked children in the factories formed the very best field for
the development and spread of epidemic and contagious diseases.
Pauper children were sent in crowds from the agricultural dis
tricts of the Southern counties to the manufacturing regions of
the northern counties. They were apprenticed to the mill owners
and mercilessly overworked and underfed." 1

The narration of which this extract is the commencement
shows what unrestricted competition docs for the producers of

i Cyclopedia of Political Science, edited by John J. Lalor, Vol. II, p.
151.

26

402 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [Boon III

a nation. It illustrates what competition would do were the
restrictions imposed by labor organizations and the govern
ment removed. If let alone the conditions described would
extend to practically all industries, and finally affect the whole
laboring population. They represent what the dogmatic econo
mist calls the most "economic" conditions of production, con
ditions which, if attained, will assure the most complete success
in the race for commercial supremacy. Indeed, the busi
ness men of that day contended that to interfere with these
conditions meant ruin to England's industries. Wlien things
became so bad that the English government prepared to " med
dle" by passing the Factory Acts there was great alarm and
indignation among the conservative and respectable factory op
erators whose "rights" were threatened. They protested with
all the vehemence of disinterested patriotism against any in
terference with the beneficent natural laws which were doing
so much for England's commercial prosperity. The Factory
Acts, nevertheless, were passed, interfering with " prosperity "
in the interests of happiness. As they merely dabble with the
matter, however, they have not done much toward abolishing
the vast annual deficit of happiness produced by the British
people; though they certainly have diminished it.

Advancement in the arts then does not insure happiness, though
doubtless it can be made the means of supporting in comfort
a greater population than in its absence can be supported in
discomfort, but not while competition is in control. In fact, it
may be shown that even the single and much proclaimed advan
tage of the capitalistic system — its stimulus to the use of ma
chinery in the arts — is in reality a disadvantage. Suppose, for
example, that modern methods of production were introduced
into India and the competitive system were permitted to remain
in control. What would happen? A temporary slight rise in
the rate of consumption per capita would be the first effect, but
the increase in the means of subsistence would promptly result
in' a decrease of the death rate, and an increase in the popula
tion — the faster the means of subsistence increased the faster
would the population increase to meet it, until the limit of
the agricultural resources of the country, on which depends the
limit of the population, would, even with improved methods,
be again practically attained. Perhaps in India where ^ the
population is already dense, it might by this means be stimu
lated to increase several fold, and what would be the result -
the same final rate of consumption per capita, the same final

CHAP. XI] COMPETITION 403

output of misery per capita would be attained, and the total
output of misery would be increased several-fold. Such would
be the result of improving methods of production by the appli
cation of science and leaving consumption to the beneficence
of nature. Indeed, science thus half applied is a curse instead
of a blessing. That which advancement in the arts would do
for India it will do for the United States under competitive
conditions; for the population of the country will either in
crease as fast as in the past, or it will not. If it does its
failure to increase as fast as in the past can only mean that the
sole competitive check which exists — the Law of Malthus —
has begun to operate and will continue to do so until natural
equilibrium, like that in India, is attained. If, on the con
trary, it does not, it will show that the Law of Malthus is not
operative. In the past, the population has several times doubled
in less than thirty years, say three times in a century. Assum
ing the present population to be 80,000,000 and this rate of
increase to be maintained, the population in one century will
be 640,000,000, in two centuries will be over 5,000,000,000,
and in three centuries will be over 40,000,000,000. Does any
one suppose the country can support the last two numbers in
comfort, or even in a condition of self-support? Do they sup
pose it can support even 640,000,000 at, or anywhere near, the
point of maximum efficiency? Certainly not with competi
tion, and it is doubtful if, with the most perfect system devis
able, it could be done, even with half such a population. As
Sir William Crookes has shown, the wheat acreage is already
approaching its limits, and though these can be extended and
the yield per acre increased by the application of science, the
yield cannot be indefinitely augmented. The same thing is
true of other agricultural resources. The law of diminishing
returns cannot forever be more than neutralized by the law
of increasing returns; and what is true of agriculture is true
of mineral resources, particularly of the coal supply.

Of course, no such rate of increase of population as that
we have assumed will or can be maintained ; for the very rea
son that it will be checked by the Law of Malthus. A glance
at Fig. 15, showing the rate of increase of population in various
countries during the 19th century, according to the report of
the 12th Census of the United States, exhibits the effect of
this law. Thus the sparsely settled countries (the United
States and Russia) have increased most rapidly; the accelera
tion in the case of the former country being due in part to

404 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [Booii III

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Fig. 15.

CHAP. XI] COMPETITION 405

immigration. Among densely populated countries it is those
in which the operation of the law of increasing returns has been
most stimulated by improvement in the arts that have made
the greatest gains (The United Kingdom, Germany, and Aus
tria-Hungary). Italy and France occupy an intermediate po
sition, while the most backward industrial countries (Spain,
Sweden and Norway, and Turkey) have increased least in popu
lation. Owing to our proficience in the arts, however, we shall
eventually be able to support a much greater density of popula
tion, and produce a far greater output of wealth and misery
than any of the countries of Europe and Asia do now.

The proper way of adjusting population to a diminishing
return of wealth is by a decrease in the birth rate, but this is not
nature's way in man any more than in animals. Only a rela
tively high rate of consumption per capita can set in operation
the prucfential motives which keep human beings from breed
ing too fast, and this cannot be attained by any system, which,
like that of competition, destroys the efficiency of consump
tion, however much it may increase the efficiency of produc
tion Thus it becomes clear that the improvement in the arts
which the modern form of competition promotes is a tempo
rary good, but a permanent evil, or certain to become so it the
increase of population is left to nature.

And now to return to the effect of all this on the natural
resources of the earth (p. 378). The greatly increased facility
of developing nature's resources through improvement in t
arts and the great increase in the number of human beings en
gaged in their development, simply accelerates their depletion
without accomplishing anything useful by it. The resources
which, if properly applied, would result in a vast production
of happiness arei by the competitive system, dissipated with
nothing — with less 'than nothing — to show for their dissipa
tion In the modern world the prevailing production-mad
ness' goads the capitalist, who has everything to gain jom
"skinning" the country, into opening up and developing
its resources, and what is the final result - abandoned farm
where once were virgin soils - treeless wastes where once stood
great forests -huge water-filled caverns in the earth where
once was valuable ore. The resources are certainly devel
oped " but what has the nation to show for it — a vast
increasing surplus of misery, and this we are told is success
Such a policy as this may please a few capitalists in one gen
eration, but what of posterity? If, under the present system,

406 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [Boos III

men cannot produce a surplus of happiness while living on
the cream of the earth's resources, what will they do under the
same system when, with -numbers indefinitely increased, they
must live on the skimmed milk? So abysmal is the ignorance
on this matter that the very men who are hailed as public
benefactors because -of their haste to develop the resources of
the nation, are in reality the worst enemies of the state.

If the rapid development of the nation's resources is indeed
a desideratum, then let us by all means hasten it. Let us in
America, for example, bring in hordes of laborers from China,
supply them with the most improved machinery, make them
work sixteen hours a day at the minimum wage, and work day
and night shifts to " develop " our resources. Let them ex
haust the soils, deplete the mines, level the forests, and extermi
nate the beasts of the field and the birds of the air, and let
them keep at it until they have accomplished their work. By
this means the land may be made a desert several centuries
sooner than it could by the methods now in use — and thus
our success will be the wonder and the admiration of the age.
If we adopt this policy no nation can hope to compete with us
for the commercial supremacy of the earth. England and Ger
many, unless they imitate our methods, will not be factors in
the race for a moment. If an enormous rate of production of
wealth is the object of national existence, this is the way to ob
tain it, and the sooner we get at it the better. If the practo-
maniacs of the age dare to be consistent with themselves, let
them advocate this policy. If, on the other hand, our object
is an enormous rate of production of happiness, we should pur
sue the opposite policy. The resources of the country should
be conserved and husbanded with the greatest care; their de
velopment should be delayed as long as possible; the activities
of men should be turned to developing individuals who are
fitted to convert the potentiality of happiness involved in na
tional resources into actual happiness; the efficiency of con
sumption should be stimulated and then, when the husbanded
resources are at last developed, the nation will have something
to show for their dissipation. On page 318 we have already
discussed this matter and further repetition is not required
here. All we need point out is that the capitalistic system, in
developing a country, wastes its resources instead of using them.

In Chapter 8 we have set forth the effects on the several
elements of happiness required of a just social system. We are

CHAP. XI] COMPETITION «T

now in a position to compare these effects with those which
modern competition tends to produce. Lhus:

(1) A just system aims to improve the quality of human

beings.

Competition tends to deteriorate it.

(2) A just system seeks a high degree of adjustability and

health.

f^nrrmp'H'Hrm secures a Jow degree. .

W^t system conserves' natural resources unfal a hlgh

at the same time

degree of skill

111 CromPetition0rStim,lates a low degree of skill and interest in

equality in distribution of wealth

rnmnetition secures inequality in both.
"

nequa .

seeks to so adjust the indicate ratio M

. ,

^CoTpetition adjusts population only to its means of subsist-
ence, leading to natural cqu. librrain. vital

Competition a-^g'^ Tt deteriorates the quality
issue rt is opposed to a jurt ^tcnL rf ^ tiol)(

of the population it destroys we efficicncv of produc-

and even such good effect . h^°°h™h is only' made more
d into ar , «.l wh-eh y .

an even s .

tion is thereby turned into ar , «.l

3

^^^^

408 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BOOK III

Perfected by science, this mechanism, if its use be persisted in
will cause the earth eventually to become a very hell in which
the sensitive organization of human beings is utilized in the
highly successful manufacture of misery. There is no more
dismal delusion than that of the beneficence of competition
s a political myth as gross as, and vastly more harmful
;han, the myths of ancient and modern mythology and bv
coming generations it will be placed in the same category It
remains to be seen whether common sense can, with sufficient
promptness and completeness, triumph over custom to destroy
this delusion and the system founded upon it, and substitute
therefor an applied science whose object is the manufacture of
happiness. Ihe signs of the times give reason to believe that

ch a triumph is coming soon, and in the following chapter
we shall attempt to point out the course of events by which this

jonsummation devoutly to be wished » is to be attained

CHAPTER XII

PRIVATE AND PUBLIC MONOPOLY

Human society, like much else in nature, is a product of
evolution, and evolution consists either in progress or in retro
gression. In the history of the forms of animal and vegetable
life both processes have occurred, and both have occurred in the
history of human society. In the eleventh chapter has been
discussed the effect upon human happiness of the modes of
activity of that phase in the evolution of society denominated
the capitalistic system. This form of social mechanism was de
veloped out of the feudal system of medieval Europe through
several intermediate stages and at the present time is in process
of undergoing transformation into another form. What that
form is to be was foreshadowed by Marx in his discussion of
the " Historical Tendency of Capitalist Accumulation," as
follows :

"What does the primitive accumulation of capital, i. e., its
historical genesis, resolve itself into? In so far as it is not im
mediate transformation of slaves and serfs into wage-laborers, and
therefore a mere change of form, it only means the expropriation
of the immediate producers, i. e., the dissolution of private prop
erty based on the labour of its owner. Private property, as the
antithesis to social, collective property, exists only where the means
of labour and the external conditions of labour belong to private
individuals. But according as these private individuals are la
bourers or not labourers, private property has a different character
The numberless shades that it at first sight presents, correspond
to the intermediate stages lying between these two extremes. _ I
private property of the labourer in his means of production is the
foundation of petty industry, whether agricultural, manufactur
ing, or both; petty industry, again, is an essential condition for
the development of social production, and of the free individuality
of the labourer himself. Of course, this petty mode of produc
tion exists also under slavery, serfdom, and other states of de
pendence. But it nourishes, it lets loose its whole energy it
attains its adequate classical form, only where the labourer is the
private owner of his own means of labour set in action by i:

410 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BOOK in

self; the peasant of the land which he cultivates, the artizan of
the tool which he handles as a virtuoso. This mode of produc
tion pre-supposes parcelling of the soil, and scattering of the
other means of production. As it excludes the concentration of
these means of production, so also it excludes co-operation, divi
sion of labour within each separate process of production, the
control over, and the productive application of the forces of Nature
by society, and the free development of the social productive
powers. It is compatible only with a system of production, and
a society, moving within narrow and more or less primitive
bounds. To perpetuate it would be, as Pecqueur rightly says,
'to decree universal mediocrity.' At a certain stage of develop
ment it brings forth the material agencies for its own dissolu
tion. From that moment new forces and new passions spring
up in the bosom of society; but the old social organization fet
ters them and keeps them down. It must be annihilated; it is
annihilated. Its annihilation, the transformation of the indi
vidualized and scattered means of production into socially con
centrated ones, of the pigmy property of the many into the huge
property of the few, the expropriation of the great mass of the
people from the soil, from the means of subsistence, and from
the means of labour, this fearful and painful expropriation of
the mass of the people forms the prelude to the history of cap
ital. It comprises a series of forcible methods, of which we
have passed in review only those that have been epoch-making
as methods of the primitive accumulation of capital. The ex
propriation of the immediate producers was accomplished with
merciless vandalism, and under the stimulus of passions the most
infamous, the most sordid, the pettiest, the most meanly odious.
Self-earned private property, that is based, so to say, on the fus
ing together of the isolated, independent labouring-individual
with the conditions of his labour, is supplanted by capitalistic
private property, which rests on exploitation of the nominally
free labour of others, i. e., on wages-labour.

" As soon as this process of transformation has sufficiently
decomposed the old society from top to bottom, as soon as the
labourers are turned into proletarians, their means of labour
into capital, as soon as the capitalist mode of production stands
on its own feet, then the further socialisation of labour, and
further transformation of the land, and other means of produc
tion into socially exploited, and, therefore, common means of
production, as well as the further expropriation of private pro
prietors, takes a new form. That which is now to be expropri
ated is no longer the labourer working for himself, but the cap
italist exploiting many labourers. This expropriation is accom
plished by the action of the immanent laws of capitalistic pro
duction itself, by the centralization of capital. One capitalist
always kills many. Hand in hand with this centralization, or

CHAP. XII] PEIVATE AND PUBLIC MONOPOLY 411

this expropriation of many capitalists by few, develops, on an
ever extending scale, the co-operative form of the labour-process,
the conscious technical application of science, the methodical
cultivation of the soil, the transformation of the instruments of
labour into instruments of labour only useable in common, the
economizing of all means of production by their use as the
means of production of combined, socialized labour, the entangle
ment of all peoples in the net of the world-market, and with this,
the international character of the capitalistic regime. Along
with the constantly diminishing number of the magnates of cap
ital, who usurp and monopolise all advantages of this process of
transformation, grows the mass of misery, oppression, slavery,
degradation, exploitation ; but with this too grows the revolt of
the working class, a class always increasing in numbers, and disci
plined, united, organized by the very mechanism of the process
of capitalist production itself. The monopoly of capital becomes
a fetter upon the mode of production, which has sprung up and
nourished along with, and under it. Centralization of the means
of production and socialization of labour at last reach a point
where they become incompatible with their capitalist integument.
This integument is burst assunder. The knell of capitalist pri
vate property sounds. The expropriators are expropriated.

" The capitalist mode of appropriation, the result of the cap
italist mode of production, produces capitalist private property.
This is the first negation of individual private property, as founded
on the labour of the proprietor. But capitalist production be
gets, with the inexorability of a law of Nature, its own negation.
It is the negation of negation. This does not re-establish private
property for the producer, but gives him individual property based
on the acquisitions of the capitalist era : i. e., on co-operation and
the possession in common of the land and of the means of pro
duction.

" The transformation of scattered private property, arising
from individual labour, into capitalist private property is, natu
rally, a process, incomparably more protracted, ^ violent, and diffi
cult, than the transformation of capitalistic private property, al
ready practically resting on socialized production, into socialized
property. In the former case, we have the expropriation of the
mass of the people by a few usurpers; in the latter, we have the
expropriation of a few usurpers by the mass of the people." 5

Thus, more than fifty years ago, Marx predicted the evolution
of the capitalistic system of competition into a system of private
monopoly. He predicted also the leadership of the United
States in this movement, and he points out its inevitable de
velopment into a system of public monopoly. It is interesting

i Capital; pp. 786-789.

412 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BOOK III

to observe this evolution now in actual process of operation.
As Marx says, the fall of capitalism is to be much more rapid
than its rise. The system of private monopoly had its incep
tion only about twenty-five years ago and yet its practical re
placement in the United States by public monopoly will, in all
probability, be witnessed by the rising generation.

Private monopoly follows capitalistic competition as effect
follows cause. Were the industrial conditions existing two
generations ago to be re-established, they would again pass
through the same stages and develop the same condition of
private monopoly which they did before. The inconvenience,
worry, and loss occasioned the capitalist by competition prompts
him to seek a way to escape it. This can only be done by
combination between competitors, and when by the coalescence
of many small concerns into a few large ones the number of
competitors has diminished, this becomes a relatively easy task.
The earliest form of combination, known as pooling, consists
simply of verbal agreements among competitors not to com
pete. The output of the commodity sold by them is restricted
and the price fixed. Thereby the fearful wastes of competition
are avoided and a profit to the combine insured. But, of course,
the seller's gain is the buyer's loss ; and as the public is directly
or indirectly the buyer, the profit of the pool is at the cost of
the public. To protect themselves against pooling most of the
states of the Union, during the '80's, passed laws making it
illegal ; and in 1890 Congress passed the Sherman anti-trust act
to the same effect. Tn other words, by "meddling" legislative
enactment the law-makers attempted to induce artificial com
petition. The laissez faire theory had already been converted
into a dubious doctrine by the Factory Acts and other legislation.
The Sherman law converted it into a farce. Competition, that
beneficent natural law, develops by a natural process into private
monopoly. Thereupon the learned law-givers, imbued with the
innate beneficence of natural law, proceed to enact one, since
nature fails them ; the result being that curious anomaly — an
artificial natural law — a law which is both natural and un
natural. Is it therefore both beneficent and not beneficent?
We leave this question to political metaphysicians ; but one
thing is sure — it has not stopped pooling. As pooling agree
ments are merely verbal, it is very difficult to get evidence of
them except by the confession of one of the parties. They may
be dissolved to-day and renewed to-morrow. The Sherman
act, therefore, has remained little more than a dead letter.

CHAP. XII] PRIVATE AND PUBLIC MONOPOLY 413

To keep pooling agreements in moments of temptation, how
ever, requires a sense of honor, and this is something that busi
ness does not breed. The parties to the various pools formed,
when they saw an opportunity of gain would frequently break
their agreements and the combine would immediately crumble.
Thus pools were continually dissolving, and though they con
tinually reformed under the blistering blows of competition,
they were a very unsatisfactory form of combination. The pool,
therefore, soon developed into the trust, so-called because it
consisted of a company whose function was to hold the stock
of competing companies in trust. Through the trustees or
officers of the trust, the various companies were each assigned
their part in the total production, the output was restricted and
the price fixed as under the old pool, but the trust agreements
were matters of record and could be legally enforced, and thus it
was believed the ills developed under pooling could be remedied.
But this source of strength was also a source of weakness. The
trust agreements not being secret could be adduced as evidence
in the courts and hence were subject to the attack of the anti
trust laws. These were, in many cases enforced, and a number
of trusts lost their charters and were forced back into the pool
ing stage.

The legal position of the trust becoming thus untenable
through enforcement of state laws, a new device was tried.
Holding companies were formed whose sole purpose of existence
was the ownership of the stock of other companies. At first
only one state, New Jersey, permitted the incorporation of such
companies, but one was" enough. The competitors formerly
combined into trusts now combined into holding companies,
secured a charter in New Jersey, and were then free to operate
in any state they pleased without interference, since the attempt
by any state to discriminate against a company not incorporated
therein was, by the courts, interpreted as a regulation of inter
state commerce and hence illegal. The trust was thus dis
placed by the holding company and this is the device which
prevails very largely to-day, though charters for such com
panies are now obtainable in several states. Holding com
panies, or in their absence, pools, have now multiplied in
number to such a degree that the sale of all the principal
articles of commerce in the United States is either wholly, or in
large measure, removed from the realm of competition. Cap
italists, coerced by competition, have very generally ceased to
compete. Laborers, in the formation and consolidation of labor

414 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS -PAET II [BOOK III

organizations, have followed the same trend and competition
between laborers is diminishing from year to year. Thus pri
vate monopoly, predicted by Marx as the inevitable outcome of
competition, is in process of realization. The attempt of the
anti-trust legislation to stop and reverse the evolution of society
by inducing artificial competition is a practical failure. The
much vaunted victories of the Sherman law are technical vic
tories only. That law was not made to be impartially en
forced. To do so in the case of all railroads doing interstate
business would result in chaos, and except in one or two cases
it has not been attempted, though the abolition of competition
by combination among railroads is all but universal to-day.
The enforcement of the Sherman law is, in fact, left to the dis
cretion of the executive and is thus a practical reversion to
monarchical theories of government. It is a legislative license
for executive fiat.

The attempt to induce artificial competition having failed, the
next step is acquiescence in, and national regulation of, private
monopoly. President Roosevelt, in his message to Congress of
December 5th, 1905, suggests such acquiescence, and commends
such regulation in the following words :

" The fortunes amassed through corporate organization are now
so large, and vest such power in those who wield them, as to make
it a matter of necessity to give to the sovereign — that is, to the
Government, which represents the people as a whole — some ef
fective power of supervision over their corporate use. In order
to insure a healthy social and industrial life, every big corpora
tion should be held responsible by, and be accountable to, some
sovereign strong enough to control its conduct. I am in no sense
hostile to corporations. This is an age of combination, and any
eftort to prevent all combination will be not only useless, but in
the end vicious, because of the contempt for law which the fail
ure to enforce law inevitably produces."

^ The policy thus suggested may be denominated pseudo-social
ism ; and to it the nation is now proceeding — with what result

t is too soon to say; but we may with very slight knowledge of
human nature rest assured that difficulties will be encountered

-not transient, but permanent difficulties — for this solution

of the problem leaves untouched the cause of the trouble the

eternal antagonism between the self-interest of the buyer and
seller — between public interests and vested interests. This is
the splinter that produces the fester. A poultice may reduce
the inflammation some, but to effect a cure the splinter must

CHAP. XII] PEIVATE AHD PUBLIC MONOPOLY 415

be removed. The only way to relieve the public from the ex
action of private monopoly is to diminish the profits of the
monopolists. They will not submit to this without a struggle
and however sincere the attempt may be to accomplish it, or
ganized wealth wields too many weapons to make the perma
nent success of such an undertaking much more probable than
that of achieving artificial competition. Not only can organ
ized wealth, through its representatives in Congress, delay the
passage of any act adverse to its interests, but it can have in
corporated in such acts various ingenious provisions which
make their evasion easy, or other acts may be passed making
them unenforcible. Even if it is successful in passing the legis
lative stage unmutilated, means may be found for causing the
prosecuting officers to suspend their activities, and if this fails,
the thousand technicalities of judicial procedure for delay and
evasion are still available. By the time these difficulties have
been surmounted the monopolies may have changed their form,
reverted to the secret pooling stage, making the act inapplicable,
or devised some new method of evasion. But even if they fail
in all attempts at evasion what eternal vigilance will it require
to keep them under control. Publicity of all their transactions
will be an essential feature of government control. To insure
accuracy in the reports of these transactions in the case of
several hundred monopolies is in itself no small undertaking.
The myriad modes known to bookkeeping of concealing profits
under other names must all be understood and met, and this by
men whose temptation to opacity of understanding maybe made
very great by the interested parties. But let us assume that all
these and many other difficulties are surmounted, in what a
dangerous position will the government find itself, surrounded
by these colossi of capitalism whose interests are in eternal
antagonism to that of the people. Will they forever submit
tamely to regulation? Will the government control the mo
nopolies or will the monopolies control the government? Judg
ing by their present hold upon various departments of govern
ment the latter alternative appears at least plausible. In a
land where a double standard of honor exists — a personal and
a political standard — the people cannot hope for much from
their representatives when subjected to temptation to conduct,
not judged publicly or privately by the personal standard.
They will not accord more than the people expect, and so long
as the people expect politics to be "practical," they will not
be disappointed. So long as they condone corruption they will

416 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS -PART II [BOOK III

find those willing to have it condoned. It is not more the
people's representatives than their own blindness which betrays
them.

But again, let us assume that all difficulties in government
regulation of monopolies, without corruption, are surmounted,
and that the monopolists are completely submissive to the
people's will, seeking no advantage not freely accorded them —
what has been accomplished? If regulation is to relieve the
people of exaction, at least one of the results must be the re
striction of profits to some specific maximum — to a fair rate,
whatever that mystic figure may be — say 7% on the actual
capital invested — a rate frequently set in the franchises of
street railway companies. A result such as this would undeni
ably be of benefit to the people and relieve them of much ex
action ; but what effect would it have upon improvement in the
arts — that much vaunted advantage of the capitalistic system
-that benefit to mankind for the sake of which, we are told,
the community may well ignore all the evils of the system?
Competition being abolished, the hope of increased profit beino-
abolished, what incentive is there to the capitalist to promote

improvement in the arts? He has nothing to gain from it

any increase of profit which might accrue will be confiscated by
the community. His interest is confined to keeping his profits
from falling below the maximum allowed him. If they threaten
to fall he can check the tendency more easily by oppressing his
employees or by producing an 'inferior product than by& the
expensive operation of junking old machinery and installing a
new and improved type. Thus, even if the 'people succeed in
regulating monopoly they will at the same time have deprived

the capitalistic system of its only excuse for existence of its

one beneficent effect upon the elements of happiness. What
has the capitalist apologist to say to this dilemma? Can it be
a delusion ? Is beneficence indeed so inseparable from capital
ism that it survives every mutation? Is it the inevitable prod
uct /)f competition, and the no less inevitable product of the
absence of competition ? Doubtless our economists will be able
in some manner to show that it is. To the dogmatist, eternal
ingenuity is the price of consistency.

When the stage of pseudo-socialism has been reached in an
industrial community the capitalistic system is in extremis
The attempt to support the collapsing structure is doomed to
failure. No sooner is one portion strengthened by a statutory
prop or brace than another portion gives way. Law is piled on

CHAP. XII] PRIVATE AND PUBLIC MONOPOLY 417

law, regulation on regulation, in a vain attempt to rehabilitate
a piece of industrial and political junk by the mere force of
overlegislation. In fact, government control with retention of
capitalism is — like the attempt at artificial competition — a
kind of political quackery. It is a thing of laissez faire shreds
and legislative patches and cannot endure. It will either de
velop into a condition of consistent public monopoly, or of con
sistent private monopoly in which government control is a mere
form. If the nation does not own the monopolies, the monop
olies will own the nation.

But if government control of monopoly with retention of cap
italism involves the permanent evils we have mentioned, would
they or their equivalents be involved in government control
without retention of capitalism? Is public monopoly better
than public control of private monopoly ? Those who claim that
it is are called socialists, and their doctrine socialism. Socialism
requires that all socialized means of production shall be owned
~by society, and not by individuals. Ownership is but one form
of control. Is it better that the people should control their own
industries, or simply share in their control? And if they should
share in control, by what principle of economics are we to dis
cover the degree in which they should be permitted to share?
Government regulation, of course, outlaws the laissez faire
theory. If now we reject socialism by what principle shall we
be guided? Economists can, of course, supply none, but they
can reject socialism. Consistency requires that they shall, because
for years they have been frightening the public with the threat
of socialism, just as nurses sometimes frighten children with
tales of the bogey-man. If we examine current newspaper criti
cism of socialism it will appear that it seldom gets beyond the
name. To say that a proposal is " socialistic " is to condemn it.
It seems to be a word, not a doctrine, to which objection is made.
In his polemics against socialism the average editor opposes not
a political theory, but a mode of spelling. Indeed, the only con
sistent opponent of socialism is the anarchist or the oligarchist.
Socialism is but consistent democracy. It is democracy applied
to all forms of conduct which affect the interests of society
instead of to a few traditional forms only.

The government of a nation is a means of attaining certain
proximate ends. By definition, therefore, it is a means of pro
duction. The oligarchist claims that this means of production
should be in private hands. The democrat claims that it should
be in public hands. During feudal times, those archaic capital-
27

418 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS -PAET II [BOOK III

ists the seigniorial lords competed for its possession. The
monarchies founded by the conquerors among these competitors
displaced competition with private monopoly. The replace
ment of a monarchy by a republic is the substitution of public
for private monopoly. In the United States this was accom
plished at one stroke by the Revolution. In Europe it has
come about — or rather is coming about — through a series of
compromises between public and private monopoly. That is
the people do not control the government, but merely share in
:s control — in some cases more — in others less. The demo
crat claims that as the government of a nation should be man
aged in the public interest it should be controlled by the public
Hherwise it will be managed — not in the public interest
but in the interest of those who control it — and experience
confirms the claim. The oligarchist denies the claim, and ap
peals to custom to sustain his position. The socialist claims
that ^ as the industries of a nation should be managed in the
public interest, they should be controlled by the public Other
wise they will be managed — not in the public interest, but in
the interest of those who control them — and experience con
firms the claim. The dogmatic economist denies the claim and
appeals to custom to sustain his position. The socialist claims
that all such means of production should be in the hands of
the public — his opponent claims that only those which it is
customary to have in public hands should be placed there.

The position of the utilitarian on this question, as on all
qaestions, is, of course, determined strictly by utility. When
competition is more useful than other proposed policies, adopt
it; when private monopoly is more useful adopt that'; when
public monopoly is more useful, then adopt that. Does this
simple course appear reasonable? I believe it will so appear
Very well then. Socialism is entitled to be judged on its
merits and not on its spelling. We have examined seriatim the
alleged advantages of competition. Briefly we have pointed out
the' modifications introduced by the system now commonly pro
posed, viz., pseudo-socialism, or private monopoly under public
control. Let us now see what is claimed for public monopoly

Socialism proposes to abolish the individual capitalist work
ing in his own interest, and substitute for him the nation
working in its own interest. When by the suppression of the
first two classes of competition (p. 365) private monopolv has
been attained, the socialist proposes to suppress the second two
classes also. Instead of perpetuating the antagonism between

CHAP. XII] PRIVATE AND PUBLIC MONOPOLY 419

vested interests and public interests, and then attempting to
restrain and check it by a complex regulating mechanism he
proposes to abolish the antagonism, and thus dispense with the
necessity of restraint. Instead of a system whereby the people
sell their labor to a capitalist and then buy back the product of
that labor from the capitalist, leaving at each transaction a
margin of profit in his hands, the socialist proposes that the
nation shall labor for itself, and buy from itself, all profit
accruing to the nation. Thus the antagonism between buyer
and seller, between laborer and employer of labor, is abolished,
for the nation is both buyer and seller, both laborer and em
ployer of labor. Through ownership of the means of production
the nation becomes its own capitalist. In effect, the advantage
claimed for this system is its improvement in the economy of
consumption. By its abolition of the competitive system it
abolishes the unequal distribution of wealth which characterizes
that system. Inequality in the distribution of wealth is merely
inequality in the opportunity possessed by individuals of availing
themselves of their own labor. The rich man has an advantage
over the poor man simply because the first can avail himself
of more labor than he performs, the second of less labor than
he performs, provided we measure labor by its cost. In pur
chasing commodities we avail ourselves of the labor involved in
their production. He who can purchase commodities of the
highest labor cost therefore, can avail himself of the most labor.
Capitalists do not employ laborers merely to satisfy a whim -
they employ them that they may avail themselves of a portion
of their labor — as large a portion as possible. To this portion
Marx has given the name " surplus labor ; " it appears in the
profit of the capitalist. Now, as equality in the distribution of
wealth promotes utility, equality should be sought, and the
socialist claims that the shortest way to achieve it is to abolish
profit and to make, on the average, each individual able to
avail himself of his own labor and no more; or, rather, as
children and other helpless persons, for obvious reasons, either
cannot or should not be laborers, to make each normal family
able to avail themselves of their own labor and no more, i. e.,
to make them self-sufficient. This is the object of socialism

Inequality of distribution in wealth is, of course, one of the
chief defects of the capitalistic system ; hence any device which
promises to remedy it is worth considering. The question is-
Does socialism, in diminishing one defect, increase others?

420 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BooK III

opponents claim that it does, and in this country their real
criticisms are practically confined to three.

The first is that socialism would lead to widespread corrup
tion. Government in America is certainly corrupt, and if cor
ruption is confined to the operations of the government this is a
serious criticism. General corruption would not only cause
general demoralization of character, brt it would impair the
efficiency of production everywhere. It is, however, generally
acknowledged that the demoralized condition of the government
is due to the influence of capitalism. The transfer of the de
based business standards of morality fostered by the competitive
system into politics brings politics down to the level of busi
ness. In fact, in our country, politics is a kind of business and
is pursued for profit. The control of legislative bodies and
other departments of government by great business interests is
notorious. This is the source of all the grand corruption to be
found in the government, and this socialism would abolish by
the destruction of capitalism. As to petty corruption, that is
fully as prevalent in great corporations as it is in the govern
ment service. Rebates, commissions, rake-offs, and jobs of every
description, are so common in business transactions as not to
cause comment; and when we consider the gigantic operations
of "frenzied finance," speculation, stock watering, cornering,
corporation-wrecking, fraudulent bankruptcy, embezzlement,
and every form of stock-jobbery, the petty stealings of subordi
nate government officials which occasionally occur, sink into in
significance. In the abolition of capitalism, socialism would
abolish thousands of times the corruption it would cause.
Professor Parsons of Boston University states the case with
brevity thus:

" The causes and conditions of corruption are mainly (1), pri
vate monopoly; (2), political influence in appointment, and (3);
secrecy.

"Private ownership of public utilities leaves all three causes
in full bloom and feeds their roots.

"Public ownership eliminates two of the causes — private mo
nopoly and secrecy — and if established under reasonable civil
service regulations it eliminates the other cause also."

In fact, it is difficult for an impartial observer to take
seriously such a criticism as this one of socialism. It is, indeed,
a strong, and not a weak feature of the socialistic doctrine that
is here criticized. Public monopoly offers a remedy for the

CHAP. XII] PRIVATE AND PUBLIC MONOPOLY 421

present capitalistic control of the government which regulated
private monopoly does not offer. To license private monopolies
while leaving them the incentive and the power to corrupt those
who are employed by the people to supervise their operations is
to invite disaster. The simplest common sense is all that is
required to dispose of this first objection to socialism.

The second objection is that control of the means of produc
tion by the nation would put in the hands of the party in
power a political machine so strong as to be detrimental ^to the
interests of the community. Those who offer this objection
have in mind the capitalistic method of influencing elections.
They can only mean that it would put in the hands of a machine
the power of defeating the will of the majority. The opposi
tion of parties, when it is real, is generally an opposition be
tween classes whose interests are antagonistic. The abolition of
capitalism would abolish any marked distinction of the people
into antagonistic classes, and it is the claim of socialists that,
with the disappearance of class antagonism, party antagonism
will disappear, the interests of the whole people being the same.
It is the aim of socialism, as of less consistent democracy, to do
away with all class distinctions save those established by nature
herself In the absence of the corruption caused by capitalism
it is difficult to see how public monopoly could result in t
defeat of the will of the majority, particularly when by tt
abolition of classes the majority would be practically the whc

P6The third objection is one which critics of socialism are
unanimous in urging. The claim is made that whatever gam
socialism might effect in the efficiency of consumption would be
more than offset by the loss in efficiency of production due to
the abolition of the class whose zeal to improve the arts
directly due to their self-interest. In a state which is i
capitalist the incentive to the introduction of labor-saving
machinery, including skilful organization and management, dis
cussed on We 378, will be lacking. It is justly urged that if
mankind i^ to produce a surplus of happiness --ns must be
discovered of producing desiderata at a less cost of labor than at
present for it is doubtless true that not only is the di>tr bution
II wealth at the present day bad, but the amount of weal th per
capita is, and always has been, inadequate. Hence if socialism
rlops as a matter of fact, check improvement m the art and
l nd while fmproving the distribution

422 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [Boox III

of wealth diminishes the amount per capita — a valid objection
has been lodged against it.

Many facts appear to bear out this criticism of socialism. In
America it appears to be a general rule that enterprises carried
on by governments are expensive. It appears to cost the
government more to accomplish any given amount of production
than it does private parties. Such facts lose much of their
force, however, when we recall that efficiency of production is
inversely proportional, not to money cost, but to labor cost.
The confusion of these two things, so common in our day, is a
heritage from the obsolete mercantile system. We cannot infer
from money cost to labor cost, as they are by no means propor
tional to one another. The incentive of the capitalist is to re
duce money cost — labor cost is a matter of indifference to him.
Hence it will be found that the private individual derives most
of his advantage over the government from the cheaper and
more oppressed labor that he employs. The government has
no incentive to oppress its employees, since it seeks no profit
from their surplus labor. Hence the money cost of govern
mental production, as a rule, ranges higher than that carried on
by private capitalists, but the labor cost is not, therefore, neces
sarily higher.

The vast strides in mechanical improvements made by in
dustries in private hands is often adduced as evidence of the
effectiveness of the incentive to capitalists to improve the arts,
and yet what art has advanced so rapidly in the last generation
as the art of warfare — an art which has no part in the business
of private individuals and which has been developed without
the incentive of the capitalist to profit. A modern war vessel
is one of the most complex and ingenious machines of modern
times, and it has been developed by the government for its own
purposes.

But if governmental administration is so unsatisfactory, why
is it that it is continually encroaching on the field of private
enterprise, and this in spite of the powerful opposition of cap
italism. It is significant that, with a few trifling exceptions in
the case of municipal governments, the assumption by the gov
ernment _ of any activity is always permanent. It holds all the
ground it gains, and no one proposes the re-substitution of
private enterprise. Does any one suggest placing or replacing
the schools, the public buildings, the post-office service, the light
house service, the life-saving service, the service of the agricul
tural department, or the geodetic survey, in private hands?

CHAP. XII] PKIVATE AND PUBLIC MONOPOLY 423

They are no more public services than the administration of the
railroads, the telegraphs, the iron mines, or the flour mills of
the country. It would be perfectly possible for the government
to turn them over to private parties. Why, if the government
is so lax, is this not done or at least proposed? Does any one
suppose that if the government once assumed control of the
railroads, the coal mines, the steel works, or any other public
utility, that there would be any national demand for their re
turn to the control of capitalists? If so, it would be a com
plete reversal of all former experiences. No : the first two
forms of competition when once abolished are abolished per
manently, and the same will be true of the last two. In this
country there has been little opportunity to compare govern
mental with capitalistic efficiency, but when we examine the
experience of other countries we are confirmed in the view that
any great activity once undertaken by the government is found
so much more satisfactory than the same activity in private
hands, that no one proposes to return. To this statement there
are relatively few exceptions. In New Zealand the success of
public monopoly has been so pronounced that a general knowl
edge of its benefits is probably all that would be required to
cause the United States to adopt a similar policy.1 What is
true of New Zealand is true elsewhere. In Europe practical
socialism is advancing rapidly, and even in our own backward
country the advantage of public over private enterprises is
generally recognized by candid observers. Governor Douglas,
of Massachusetts, in his inaugural address, remarks :

"Whatever doubts may exist as to the expediency of State or
Federal ownership of public utilities, the operation of such under
takings has now passed the experimental stage. It has been
demonstrated by the experience of towns and cities m this Com
monwealth, both with regard to water supply and public lighting,
that under favorable conditions and proper management the busi
ness of gas, electric lighting, and water supply can be conducted
by municipal corporations with profit to the inhabitants, b
price and service."

"It is not disputed that as a rule, private corporations conduct
their business more economically than do public corporations, it
is however, disputed that the public usually obtains the benefit
of this economical management, In most cases, t >re, t

iAn excellent discussion and comparison fthemdustrial system of
New Zealand and the United States is that of H. H. Lusk m Our I
at Home." 1899

424 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS —PAKT II [BOOK III

publicly owned and operated waterworks, sewers, gas and electric
lighting plants have given the public cheaper and better service
than have the privately owned concerns."

What is true of water works and gas plants and means of
transportation, is equally true of any and every public utility
The principle that activities carried on in the public interest
should be controlled by the public is as generally sound as any
other political principle, and it is the only justification of
democracy. When the effects of national policies are estimated
m units of happiness, instead of units of money, confusion on
this subject will largely disappear.

Nor are public utilities limited to those enterprises to which
the public, through its government, grants a charter or fran
chise. In a primitive condition of society, when each fam
ily produced what it consumed and consumed what it pro
duced, public utilities did not exist. But as soon as the division
of labor, and with it the system of exchange arose, public utilities
came into being, since the mode of operation of producers no
longer concerned themselves alone. In early times each family
was a self-sufficing unit, and was independent of other units
To-day each family should be a self-sufficing unit, but it should
not be, and cannot be, independent of others. It cannot pro
duce exactly what it consumes, but it can, and should, produce
the equivalent of what it consumes, and by the modern system
of industry it can make a given amount of labor indefinitely
more effective than under the old system of self-sufficiency.
This gain in efficiency, however, converts all industries into
public utilities, since each family is no longer dependent for its
desiderata upon its own activities, but is dependent upon others
the public is entitled to life, liberty and the pursuit of happi
ness only by sufferance of those private persons or corporations
who produce the desiderata which the public consumes, then,
indeed, an oligarchy of industry exists, more unjust than the
military oligarchies of ancient times. To claim, as some
writers do, that the public are entitled to control only those
industries which operate under a franchise is to found public
conduct upon a purely arbitrary distinction. Public utilities
are those whose operation affects the interests of the public and it
is on this account, and on this account alone, that the public are
entitled to control them. If democracy requires that conduct af
fecting the interests of society shall be controlled by society
(p. 357), then the public control of public utilities is the only

CHAP. XII] PRIVATE AND PUBLIC MONOPOLY 425

course of conduct consistent with democracy. Capitalism, indeed,
is but the form of oligarchy which the application of the scientific
method to production alone, happens to generate. Though in
form it may be democratic, in substance it is as far removed
from democracy as the true monarchies of Europe or Asia.
Assuming that the third objection to public monopoly is

valid it is no less valid as an objection to publicly controlled

private monopoly. If socialism withdraws the existing incen
tive to improve the arts without supplying any other, the same
may be said of pseudo-socialism, which has all the disadvantages
of socialism, and most of those of competition, without the ad
vantage of socialism in promoting efficiency of consumption,
nor that of competition in promoting efficiency of production.
He who would condemn genuine socialism on these grounds
must doubly condemn the pseudo-socialism which the leaders of
public opinion in America are now proposing as a substitute
therefor.

Besides those we have considered, there are five popular criti
cisms of socialism which arise from a misunderstanding of its
tenets.

First, There is a very common confusion of socialism
with anarchism. This implies gross ignorance since the two
schools are antithetical, the first advocating more government,
the second less. Anarchism is simply consistent laissez faire
doctrine, and is the purest individualism, whereas socialism is
anti-individualistic. A point of resemblance between these op
posite schools may, nevertheless, be detected. Anarchism would
abolish law, because it interferes with " individual liberty " so-
called. Socialism proposes to abolish it by dispensing with the
necessity for it. It is the claim of socialists that by abolishing
the division of society into antagonistic classes, and raising the
whole population to a standard of living and morals such that
all will have a stake in the order and well-being of society, that
crime will dwindle and tend to disappear, that courts, prisons
and police, will become superfluous, and that the conscience ol
the community will take the place of law. This expectation is
not without foundation, since it is from the desire tor protit,
the antagonism of classes, and the ignorance and poverty whicl
are the universal concomitants of capitalism, that mos
crimes of the community arise.

Second There is frequent confusion of socialism with c
munism ' The latter embodies the doctrine of community of
goods _ the principle of dividing the wealth of a community s

426 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS -PART II [Boon III

that each member has the same share. Although socialism, by
its tendency to equalize the distribution of wealth, tends to ac
complish a result resembling that of communism, it imposes
upon no one any obligation not already imposed, to divide his
wealth with other members of the community. Within such
limits as are prescribed by the principle of self-sufficiency —
that each self-sufficing unit may consume the equivalent of
what it produces — socialism permits of the accumulation of
wealth to any extent whatever. It involves no principle of
"dividing up" irrespective of the industry or indolence, the
capacity or incapacity, of individuals.

Were it indeed true that socialism put a premium upon in
dolence, and forced the industrious to support the idle, it would
show that socialism had a distinct resemblance to capitalism,
but it is not true, though perhaps the mistake is a natural one'
since some socialists have advocated a policy which would
result in such a condition. I refer to those who claim that
justice requires a distribution of wealth according to the need for
it. Were this a practical policy it would be a just one; but
with human beings as they are it is inoperative, since to dis^
burse desiderata according as persons need or do not need
them would put a premium upon the cultivation of needs, or of
requirements which would be accepted as needs. Hence' those
who most dissipated their resources would receive the most
from society. Such a policy would develop more requirements
than could be supplied, and soon prove suicidal. In other words
a policy of distribution according to needs is, like competition'
a malencently accelerative policy, and is not adapted to its
end. During the last century it was embodied in the poor laws
of England and stimulated pauperism so fast that it had to be
abandoned. The policy is only practical when restricted to
persons who are incapacitated. It has no relation to socialism.

Third. There is a very widespread misapprehension that
socialism would diminish the liberty of individuals, and force
everyone to adopt a cut-and-dried mode of life, having no rela
tion to their tastes and aspirations. This notion arises from
the assumption that socialism in production implies socialism in
consumption. No such implication is justified. Indeed, one
o± the objects of socialism is to increase the real liberty of the
individual by abolishing as far as possible that individualism
m production which is so notoriously inefficient: thereby free
ing his life sufficiently from the necessity of labor to enable him
to increase the duration of consumption. Socialism in con-

CHAP. XII] PRIVATE AND PUBLIC MONOPOLY 427

sumption would be as inefficient as individualism in production,
and neither policy is consistent with economy in the generation
of happiness.

Fourth. There is a popular notion that socialism is destruc
tive of the family and is opposed to the institution of marriage.
It is obvious that public ownership of the means of production,
which is all that socialism involves, can have no relation to such
a matter as this. Socialism includes no peculiar views on mar
riage, though doubtless some socialists may hold such views; but
if so, it is a mere coincidence, just as some socialists may be
bow-legged or cross-eyed. Capitalism, indeed, is much more
destructive of the family than socialism. Child-labor would
not be tolerated under the latter system, and the employment
of women would be much restricted, whereas under capitalism,
unrestrained by the state, women and children are drafted into
the ranks of labor and made to grind out their lives in toil that
commerce may nourish and profits increase. It was this evil
that brought about the enactment of the Factory Acts — those
earliest offspring of socialism.

Fifth. Another popular idea associates socialism with
atheism and the destruction of religion. There is, of course,
no such connection. To place public utilities in the control of
the public would no more tend to promote irreligion than to
place the Post Office in the control of private parties would
tend to promote religion.

I have not deemed it necessary to examine senatum the e
upon the elements of happiness of the social mechanisms em
bodied either in artificial competition, pseudo-socialism or
socialism. All these are attempts to improve upon competition,
and are directed primarily to remedying its most conspicuous
defect — inequality in the distribution of wealth.
two even if adapted to their end — which they are not — would
ignore seven of the eight elements of happiness. All we can
say of them is that, as improvements upon the present system,
they are the first which would suggest themselves to minds
trained in the dogmas of the prevailing school and yet force
to acknowledge the inadequacy of those dogmas to deal wit!
modern problems. They are feeble compromises between
anarchism and socialism and not consistent with themselves
As intermediate stages in progress toward a scientific system it
is to the interest of the public to make them as short as possible.
These intermediate stages always occur in the transit*
dogma to common sense; hence the present trend of politics

428 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BOOK III

quite normal, as the history of the inductive sciences amply
illustrates.

As to socialism, though it is founded upon a sound principle
— the same principle, indeed, upon which democracy itself is
founded — it has not, at present, sufficient definiteness to permit
of a systematic test by means of the elements of happiness. It
is a groping effort after a better state, and necessarily groping,
since it does not start out with a definite recognition of what it
is supposed to accomplish. Hence it ignores almost as many
of the elements of happiness as artificial competition and
pseudo-socialism. Nevertheless it is a step in the right direc
tion, and upon its foundation principle that those things which
affect the happiness of the whole people should be controlled
by the whole people, I shall attempt to build a mechanism
adapted to the end of utility. In this attempt I shall con
struct not an indefinite, but a' definite, system, capable as far as
any system built on paper can be, of test by the criteria laid
down in Chapter 8. I do not claim that the system to be ex
pounded in the chapter following is the only common sense sys
tem : I claim that it is a common sense system ; to be promptly
ignored and discarded if a better one may be proposed.

CHAPTEK XIII

PANTO CRAG Y

In discussing the third objection to socialism in the pre
ceding chapter we have discovered a valid criticism of all
systems which have thus far been proposed for the guidance of
society. To cure poverty and to make the average individual
self-supporting, a better' distribution of wealth is a necessary,
but not a sufficient, condition. A greater rate of consumption
per capita is essential and the only means of attaining it is_to
make greater the rate of production per capita. We shall point
out later that the population of a community is entirely beyond
human control when the consumptive rate is of low value, and
hence cannot be brought to beneficent equilibrium. The first
essential then of an economic system is to simultaneously raise
the efficiency of production and of consumption. Capitalism,
whether competitive or monopolistic, admits of no means of ac
complishing such a result. Socialism does. I propose, then,
to undertake the exposition of a modification of socialism
which will presumably combine all the advantages of public
monopoly with the single advantage of competition, at the
same time augmenting that single advantage in a degree im
possible under competition. To understand the relation of this
proposed system to that at present in operation a slight analysis
of profit will be necessary.

Profit under the present system accomplishes two and onh
two useful objects. (1) It induces men to undertake the pro
duction of desiderata: (2) It induces them to undertake to
improve the means of production. Economists claim no other
element of utility in profit. Aside from these two objects the
incentive furnished by profit, or the hope of profit, is no
incentive to useful acts, but to harmful ones Under the
wage y tern the recompense of the laborer for his labor 1S his
waees — of the capitalist for his capital is his profit. The
Tpltalist will not Sennit his capital to be utilized m the pro
duction of commodities without the promise of profit -hence,
under the present system of private capital, prof

430 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS -PART II [Boos III

since without it capitalists would not engage, or permit their
capital to engage, in production at all, since they would have
no motive to do so. This first object of profit, socialism ac
complishes without the necessity of profit by making produc
tion a regular and customary function of government Under
socialism all kinds of industries would be undertaken as regular
departments of government, and would be carried on lust as the
military or naval establishments, the geological survey, or the
post-office department are carried on, without the necessity of
or incentive to profit Hence socialism, as it is, would accom
plish the first object of profit.

As to the second object of profit, all systems proposed or
practised are but lame substitutes for a systematic application
of common sense. We have cited reasons for believing that
the popular opinion which holds socialism inferior to com
petition m the attainment of this end is, in considerable measure
a delusion, but whether this be so or not, nothing can be done
with competition to improve it in this respect, since its supreme
virtue becomes manifest only when "let alone." Socialism, on
)ther hand, has no such limitation, and admits of any im
provements which common sense may suggest. Its doctrines
thereiore, afford a foundation for an applied technology of
happiness.

The first question before us is, how may the efficiency of pro
duction be increased simultaneously with an increase in the
Jfficiency of consumption ? The profit of the capitalist is sup
posed by the laissez faire theorists to be a means of inducing
him to accomplish the first half of this service for society but
we have seen how ill he accomplishes it. Nevertheless, is it not
possible to obtain from the capitalistic system one valuable sug
gestion — to extract from it one feature — which, when ap
plied to socialism, remedies its worst defect, and at the same
time leaves capitalism without a single point of superiority
real or imaginary? Could society contrive a method of simul
taneously stimulating in a high degree the efficiency of both
production and consumption it would certainly be worth paying
for — it would be worth much sacrifice — indeed, if poverty is
3 be permanently cured, and the total activities of society placed
upon a self-supporting basis, some method of achieving this
result must be devised. It is not only desirable — it is essential.
11 the stimulus of profit under the capitalistic system fails as
t certainly does, why can we not adapt the same stimulus to
the socialistic system so as to succeed ? Why can we not harness

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCRACY 431

the power of individual self-interest to the mechanism of public
monopoly so as to drive it with all the speed of which that power
is capable toward the goal of all human endeavor — happiness?
Xow, there is reason to believe that precisely this thing can be
c]one — that society, through organization, can be converted into
a great happiness-producing mechanism, and that self-interest
can be utilized to drive it. Thus we shall not have to essay the
hopeless task of destroying egotism in men, but simply by divert
ing its channel from competition to co-operation convert it into
a mighty power for the good — instead of the harm — of man
kind, to destroy human egotism is impossible. Therefore let
us direct it so as to make it serve the ends of society instead
of subverting them. To the construction of such a happiness
engine I propose to devote the remainder of this work. With
the material at present available it will, of necessity, be very im
perfect — a rude and clumsy affair with many of the details
lacking — to be compared with the early efforts of Newcomen
or Watt to construct a steam engine. But perhaps in the future
from this crude beginning a structure may be developed which
will bear the same relation to the original that a modern marine
engine bears to Newcomen's atmospheric engine of 1705. Pos
sibly such a hope is delusive and such a comparison presump
tuous. But this much is certain — to produce the maximum
output of happiness society must be organized into a happiness
producing mechanism — and to drive it no less powerful an
agent will be required than the one permanent force inhcr-
in human nature — self-interest.

That such a mechanism is constructive may be inferred from
two propositons whose soundness has been established in the
discussion of the second factor of happiness: (1) The rate of
production per capita can, be increased — therefore the rate of
consumption per capita can be increased. (2) The time re
quired for a given amount of production can be decreased--
therefore the time occupied in consumption can be increased.
With these two inferences assuring the soundness of our theory
and with the analysis of the factors of happiness into t
elements as our guide to its application we may proceed
task with confidence that we are on solid ground. A least .we
know definitely what we desire to accomplish, and that
theoretically accomplishable. The only question which rema m,
is: Have we the ingenuity to devise a mechanism, however c de
for its accomplishment? A similar situation confronted those
who first undertook the construction of the steam engine, and

432 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT II [BOOK III

we shall endeavor to profit by their example. At this point I
shall make no attempt to show how the mechanism proposed may
be substituted for the one at present in operation, deeming it
best to postpone the discussion of that matter to the following
chapter.

The mechanism I propose has eight different features, and
may conveniently be expounded in eight sections, concerned
with the following topics:

(1) Public ownership of the means of production. Eetention
of the wage system and abolition of profit.

(2) Organization of a system of distribution, whereby supply
of, and demand for, products may be adjusted.

(3) Organization of a national labor exchange, whereby supply
of, and demand for, labor may be adjusted.

(4) Organization of an inspection system, whereby the quality
of products may be maintained at a definite standard.

(5) Application of labor to production.

(6) Organization of invention.

(7) Old age insurance.

(8) Reform of education.

The system to be elucidated under these eight headings I
shall call pantocracy (Gr. TTO.V =all: KpaTeo>=to rule), because
it involves the control of human activities in the interest of all.

Section (1) The foundation of pantocracy is simply the
socialism of Marx and his co-workers. All industries capable
of being converted into monopolies are so converted, and title
to the means of production appertaining thereto vested in the
government — that is, in the people — the government being
merely their instrument ; local industries, of course, to be
owned by local governments, national industries by the national
government. Capitalists in control of those industries capable
of being converted into monopolies (and they include practically
all important industries) are dispensed with, the nation acting
as^its own capitalist. With this change, profit is abolished, and
can be converted entirely into wages, the wage system being
retained. The system of socialism is so well known as to re
quire no discussion here. It has been tried and not found
wanting. The Post Office department is an example of its ap
plication to a national industry formerly in the hands of private
parties. Indeed every department of government is an example
of applied socialism. Even the army and navy might be placed
in private hands, and trusted to private benevolence, and were

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCRACY 433

the laissez faire economists consistent, they would advocate such
a policy. Socialism began with democratic government.

.Section (2) It has been shown in a former chapter that real
liberty increases as liberty to consume increases. But real lib
erty is proportional to opportunity for happiness, and as hap
piness will, in general, be proportional to the opportunity for it,
an economic system should stimulate the liberty to consume as
much as possible. Now the demand, or what economists call
the effective demand is proportional to real, not to legal, liberty.
The man who gets $5.00 a week wage may have as much legal
liberty as he who gets $50.00, but he has not, in general, as
much real liberty, and his effective demand is less. Demand,
however, can lead to consumption only if it is supplied. Pro
duction is necessary to consumption, and in a common sense
system it is essential that the demand for, and supply of,
desiderata be adjusted to one another. We have seen how com
petition accomplishes this — or rather fails to accomplish it-
resulting in all sorts of unnecessary labor, reduplication of
plants, failures, enforced idleness, and crises, with their at
tendant ills. Private monopoly does better. A monopoly like
the Standard Oil Company has main distributing agencies scat
tered throughout the territory it supplies ; each of these has
branch agencies and there is an organized system of distribution.
Reports of the demand from these various agencies are re
ceived regularly by persons whose function it is to regulate the
supply by the demand. If the demand slackens, the supply is
made to slacken; if the demand accelerates, the supply is ac
celerated. Thus production is adapted to consumption, there is
no overproduction, and one result of competitive chaos is elimi
nated. Private monopoly has no tendency to equality of dis
tribution in demand, whereby the demand would become a real
index of happiness output, but so far as it goes it accomplishes
an excellent result — it adjusts supply to demand, and this
feature of private monopoly should be adopted by public
monopoly.

The output of every industry should be controlled by an
organized department called the Department of Output Regula
tion. This department should be in communication with a
national system of warehouses or distributing agencies,
function should be to keep records of the stock on hand of all
commodities in all distributing agencies, and the rate at whi
they are being distributed in supplying the demand,
the knowledge thus recorded it should regulate the rate of pro-
28

434 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS— PART II [Boou III

duction in each industry, keeping it in constant adjustment to
consumption. Each month, or quarter, it should call for a
definite output from the plants of the nation, and just that out
put, and no more, should be supplied. Obviously, a stock suffi
cient to supply the demand for several months in advance should
always be kept on hand — a policy pursued by every prudent
storekeeper, and essential to the prompt filling of orders. In
the case of necessities this reserve stock should be greater than
in the case of other commodities, except, of course, in the case
of perishable commodities, for which an adapted system of dis
tribution should be provided.

A single Distributing Department should be organized whose
function should be to distribute the output of the plants of the
country to the various distributing stations. Such an organ
ized department would save a vast amount of unnecessary labor
and duplication of effort. It should be operated on the same
principle as a commodity producing industry (See section 5)
and possess a completely independent organization. Both the
department of output regulation and that of distribution should,
of course, be divided into subordinate divisions, corresponding
to the various departments into which the industries of the
country are divided ; and the organization should be such that
delays and interruptions are reduced to a minimum. An or
ganized system of regulation, such as described, could regulate
the supply of practically all commodities to the demand for
them, just as the Post Office department regulates the supply
of stamps, postal cards, stamped envelopes, newspaper wrappers,
etc., to the demand for them, in all the sixty-odd thousand postal
distributing stations throughout the United States.

Section (3) So long as men are not at liberty to perpetu
ally consume — so long as they must produce — it is desir
able that they should be at liberty, as far as possible, to engage
in that kind of production which suits best their tastes. Not
only is the labor cost of desiderata less when the laborer's tastes
are consulted in assigning him his task, but he will turn out
better products, and at a greater speed, for a man will gen
erally succeed best in the kind of work he likes the best. Hence
the greatest liberty in choosing or changing their employment
should be accorded all laborers. To facilitate this a National
Labor Exchange should be organized. Each department of
government should make periodic — say monthly — reports to
the labor exchange of existing vacancies, if any, specifying
wages, prevailing hours of labor, character of work, location

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCKACY 4S5

etc. These reports, converted into properly classified lists,
should be published monthly by the labor exchange and distrib
uted, so that every one in the country could have easy access
to them without leaving his own town. Every post office,
library, etc., should receive copies. Every person qualified,
whether employed or not, should be entitled to apply for the
positions thus vacant. Besides this there should be published
and distributed less frequent reports setting forth all positions
in all departments, whether vacant or not, so that persons could
apply for positions not vacant with the object of anticipating
future vacancies. Applications for any or all these positions
should be made in writing to the labor exchange, and the same
man should be permitted to apply for as many positions as he
chose so that he would have a wide latitude of choice and a
better chance of changing his occupation if that in which he
was engaged failed to suit him. All applications should be
filed in one department, organized for the sole purpose of facil
tating the adaptation of producers to their work. In those
industrial departments in which the supply of, exceeded the
demand for, labor these applications would constitute a waiting
list from which should be selected those to fill the vacancies
caused by death, retirement, or exchange in or expansion ot,
the operating force. It should be required of every candidate
for aP particular position that he show himself by examina
tion previous training, or otherwise, well fitted to fill
each of his various applications for employment each candi
date should be required to affix one and only one number, )
(2} (3) (4) etc., called a preference number, indicating
whether the position was his first, second, third, fourth, etc
choice amongthose for which he applied, and he should be a
iberty to amend these numbers at any fame he pleased <
course^ no candidate could apply for a position which he did i ot
nrefer to the one held bv him at the time of his application,
or amendment thereof. Of several candidates shown to be
fitted for™ osition that one should be selected whose prefer-
ence number was the lowest. If several were equally low the
election between them should be by lot, P-eedenee ^ fl ^
or by some other method shown by experience to be
?hese In those industrial departments m which the demand
o exceeded the supply of, labor there would be ^ -ai mg
list or only for certain positions. The mode of
vacancies will be considered under section (5).

Under competition there is no more provision for adjus

436 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BooK III

the supply of, to the demand for, labor than in the case of
commodities. Everything is left to chance. A man must do
the best he can. If he loses his position he must either obtain
another one through the influence of friends — often some
thing he does not want — or go wandering about " looking for
a job/' glad if he can get anything. He does not know what
positions throughout the country are vacant, nor do those who
desire particular services always know where they can obtain
men to perform them. In an inadequate manner, advertising
fulfils this function locally, but it is a poor substitute for a
national labor exchange. With the organization of society into a
mechanism for the production of happiness, and the establish
ment of a bureau for the purpose of deliberately adapting a man's
occupation to his powers and preferences, far more real liberty
would be gained by the average laborer — that is the people —
than was gained by the abolition of slavery and serfdom and the
establishment of so-called free labor. Real liberty was doubtless,
in the end, increased by this step, and yet the curse of competi
tion immediately ensuing on the liberation of labor, set in opera
tion a compensating influence which largely neutralized the in
crease. We have only to read Marx's account of the " free "
agricultural laborers "of England just after the downfall of
feudalism to become convinced that their real liberty was less
than before they had been liberated from serfdom and divorced
from the soil, although their legal liberty was certainly greater.
The gain from exchanging slavery for free labor is frequently a
gain of legal, more than of real, liberty. The establishment of
the so-called "free laborer" is, however, merely a step in the
evolution of society which will eventually produce laborers who
are really free, emancipated not only from the labor imposed
by man, 'but from that imposed by nature. The real freedom
of the laborer consists in freedom from labor — and common
sense will eventually accomplish it, Some human labor will
always be necessary, but it will involve little labor cost and its
burden will be negligible.

A policy very different from that which we have propounded
in this section is often imputed to socialism. It has been
seriously proposed by some persons who agree with the doc
trines of Marx that' the assignment of men to their vocations
shall be determined — not by their own preference — but by a
governmental commission which shall pronounce upon their
qualifications and assign each his place in the mechanism of
social production, according to its notions of his fitness. This

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCRACY

4137

policy has no relation to socialism and it is obviously utterly
repugnant to utility. Some socialists may perhaps "advocate
it, but this does not make it socialism. It is interesting to
observe that the dogmatic school takes violent exception to this
doctrine and very justly points out that it would lead to a

most uncomfortable condition of society. Blind beings do

they not recognize their own offspring? Of course it would
make life uncomfortable, but if wealth is the object of na
tional existence, why should we scruple about comfort? Do
we not defile our cities with soot and vile effluvia, pollute our
streams, disfigure and destroy the beauties of nature, dissipate
her resources, waste the lives of men and women, and even of
children, in the pursuit of wealth ? If it is worth while to sac
rifice so much to Mammon, why should we feel delicacy in
sacrificing a little more? The motto of the commercial moral
ist of the day is "business before pleasure," and in this so-
called socialistic policy such a motto is consistently applied.
We sacrifice most things now to business, why not sacrifice
men's inclination to a vocation as well? If it is sensible to
sacrifice the end to the means once, then it is sensible to do
so twice, thrice, or any number of times. The motto of the
utilitarian is " pleasure before business/' although not neces
sarily antecedent thereto. He therefore always considers the
end before the means, and instead of sacrificing men's inclina
tions to business, sacrifices business to their inclinations. He
lets men determine their own vocations instead of letting busi
ness determine them. The policy here criticised is not only
not socialistic, but it is a typical product of the dogmatic
school and in harmony with its theory and practice.

Section (4) A third department of government should com
prise a Bureau of Inspection wrhose function should be to keep
the quality of all products at a required standard. Its agents
should be in every government plant and should be held jointly
responsible with the directors of that plant for the quality of
the product there turned out; so that if the consumer found
it otherwise than as represented the responsibility would be
at once fixed. Of course, with the abolition of capitalism most
of the temptation to the production of inferior products would
be done away with, and little more would be required than to
guard against the effects of hasty work. For the purpose of
improving the quality of products, premiums could be placed
upon such improvements, corresponding to those which gov
ernments often place upon the speed of war-vessels. In this

438 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BOOK III

manner the quality of all commodities could be maintained
and improved,, and the purchaser could have confidence in what
he bought. Adulteration would cease, salesmen could be be
lieved, the necessity for each plant maintaining an inspection
bureau of its own, as at present required, would be dispensed
with, and the demoralization inseparable from systematic adul
teration, substitution, and misrepresentation, would be abol
ished. Judging from the incomplete statistics of adulteration
published, the saving to the nation from this source alone
would be several hundred million dollars a year, not to speak
of the saving in the health, physical and moral, of the com
munity. The bureau of inspection would thus control the
quality of products, while the department of output regula
tion would control their quantity. Upon the conditions under
capitalistic production it is unnecessary to dwell. We have
already briefly referred to them. Under capitalism cheating oc
curs because there is profit to be made by cheating — there is
a virtual premium upon it — with human nature as it is then
can we expect anything different? Government inspection of
the products of private monopoly would be an expensive and
doubtful expedient, which would but tempt capitalists to cor
ruption in their effort to evade the objects of inspection.

The departments of output regulation, of distribution, the
labor exchange, and the inspection bureau, have been but
briefly and broadly described, because their organization is
quite normal and familiar. It would be as easy to or
ganize these parts of the pantocratic mechanism as it would
be to organize the War department or that of the Interior.
Any skilled administrator could accomplish it. Under sec
tion (5) we shall describe a system which is not so familiar
and possessing features requiring more specific exposition. It
is the critical feature of the pantocratic mechanism, the " very
pulse of the machine/' and it is important that its operating prin
ciple should be understood. I shall not discuss every detail,
nor anticipate every objection, but the exposition of the section
will, nevertheless, be more complete than any other.

Section (5) Each commodity producing industry, or group
of closely related industries, should constitute a separate depart
ment of government. To illustrate the organization of these
departments I shall describe one, which may be considered
typical of all. It may be discussed in two parts: (1) The
disposition of receipts and expenditures. (2) The disposition
of personnel. In describing the system I shall employ a month

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCRACY 439

as a unit of readjustment, but a unit consisting of a quarter,
or some other period, might serve as well, or perhaps better.

(1) Corresponding to each industrial department a sep
arate division of the Treasury department should be created,
controlled by a separate governing body or board. The re
ceipts from the sale of all commodities should be transmitted
to the Treasury, or one of the sub-treasuries, and duly credited
to the proper industrial department. The gross monthly re
ceipts of each department should be divided into four funds.

(a) The expense fund — the money properly creditable to the
operating expenses of the month, exclusive of compensation to
personnel, including expenditures for material, machinery, re
pairs, insurance, deterioration, etc.

(b) The improvement fund — a sinking fund for improve
ments and enlargements of plant, the monthly amount of which
should depend upon the fund already accumulated, and deter-
minable for each month by the local board of improvement,
This fund itself should be divided into two. (1) A smaller
part, consisting of a predetermined percentage of the whole, ex
pendable at the discretion of the chief directors, called the
active fund; and (2) A larger part, expendable only at the dis
cretion of the board of improvement, and called the reserve
fund.

(c) The tax fund — a tax levied on each revenue-produc
ing department by the government, for the support of those de
partments which have no independent means of support, such
as the Army and Navy, the Pension Office, etc. It should be
proportional to the number of the personnel, and to the average
compensation per capita, in each department. In an advanced
stao-e of public monopoly such a method of taxation would be
a substitute for the present tariff and internal revenue anc
would be much more equable. The disposition of the iund
collected from taxes should of course be, as at present, del
mined by the legislature.

(d) The wages fund — consisting of the gross receipts, less
funds (a), (b), and (c), to be distributed as compensation to
the personnel in the manner to be hereafter specified.

(2) The personnel should be divided into two corps: (A)
Wage earners. (B) Directors.

(A) The function of the wage earners should be to carry
out the orders of the directors. They constitute the bulk of
the personnel and should be divided into many glasses. For
example, in such an industry as that of steel making, they

440 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS— PAET II [BOOK III

would consist of ordinary laborers, foundrymen, machinists,
engineers, carpenters, draughtsmen, clerks, etc. A regular
scale of wages, corresponding to that established in such a de
partment as the Post Office, should be prepared, the wage of
each wage earner being proportioned to the skill and experi
ence required of him — with this exception, that length of
service should be deemed a factor and an advance made for
each year that the wage earner served the state. Should wages
fall, for reasons hereafter to be specified, they would, of course,
fall by the same percentage for all wages. No wage earner
should be dischargeable except upon written charges, as at pres
ent under the civil service. Proved wilful inefficiency should
be a ground for discharge. Proved involuntary inefficiency
a ground for decrease of wages.

(B) The directors should be divided into one or more chief
directors, corresponding to the president or general manager of
a great corporation, and various subordinate directors in charge
of important divisions of the industry. The function of the
directors should be to manage the work of production and
direct the wage earners. They should be required to attain
two objects: (1) To deliver 'to the department of distribu
tion the quantity of product called for by the regulator of
output. (2) To improve the efficiency of production by the in
troduction of labor-saving machinery, and economies in divi
sion of labor, manipulation, or other details of management.
Corresponding to these two objects their compensation should
be of two kinds.

(1) A wage, as in the case of a wage-earner, proportioned
to the skill and experience required. This would be as con
stant as any other wage. (2) Conditional compensation de
termined as follows:

Every industry produces one or more products. The aver
age time expended in producing each product is determinable.
CaH this the producing time. It should be reported to the gov
erning board of the department, monthly. If the producing
times of the several products contained in the output be added
together, and the same divided by the number of products, the
quotient will be the average producing time for the output of
the industry. This will be a function of the average productive
capacity. On the date upon which any director assumes office
the average producing time should be considered that recorded
at the last monthly report. Now in addition to his wage, each
director should receive compensation whose amount is condi-

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCBACY 441

tioned upon the decrease in the average producing time since
he entered office. If this time increases, of course, he receives
only his wage; if the arts and economies of production con
tinually improve — as they should do — the producing time
will decrease, and his conditional compensation will be greater
the longer he holds office, and the more successful he is in pro
moting improvement in the arts and in industrial organization.
The conditional compensation of the chief directors should be
greater than for their subordinates, and should, in fact, be
graded according to the importance of each man as a factor in
production. It should be great enough in every case to afford
a keen incentive to every director to expend his zeal and in
genuity in diminishing the average producing time — in increas
ing the efficiency of production. The precise manner in which
the shortening of the producing time is made to accrue to the
benefit of the producer will be explained presently. Each direc
tor on first assuming office should receive only his wage, because
conditional compensation should be a recompense for service
in increasing the efficiency of production, and no man who had
not rendered such service would be entitled to it. The award
of conditional compensation in the manner specified is no more
than an extension of the ordinary principle of awarding com
pensation for services rendered. Improvement in the arts is
something useful to society, just as bricks, or bolts, or horse
shoes are useful to society ; and just as those who produce bricks,
or bolts, or horseshoes for society are compensated in proportion
to the amount of those commodities which they respectively pro
duce so those who produce improvements in the arts for society
should be compensated in proportion to the amount of improve
ment they produce.

In the fulfilment of their functions the directors have power
to direct the labors of all wage earners during working hours,
to readjust the character of their employment as much ;
they deem necessary within the industry, and they have com
plete control over the active portion of the improvement lund
They have no power of discharge, or alteration of wage except
upon written charges to a civil service board; they must keep
the hours of labor of all wage earners equal, or introduce
equality only with the consent of the parties concerned, and
they have only an advisory power in determining how the
hours of labor " of the operating force, as a whole, shall
tributed through the month.

It is clear that by this expedient we have accomplished two

442 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [Boon III

objects: (1) We have supplied the directors of industry with
an incentive to improve the arts — the same incentive fur
nished by profit, viz., increased compensation conditioned upon
success in improving said arts, and (2) We have altered their
incentive to increase the hours of labor of wage earners into
one to diminish them — thus making the interest of directors
and wage earners identical instead of antagonistic; and with
wages, neither director nor wage earner should have anything
to do, this being fixed by law. Having thus made the interest
of laborer and director of labor identical, is it possible to make
that of both identical with the interest of the consumer, thus
abolishing the one remaining industrial antagonism — that be
tween buyer and seller? There is but one method of accom
plishing this — that of diminishing the price of commodities
as their producing time diminishes. This, of course, would
benefit consumers, but would it not be a harm to producers by
diminishing the wage fund ? We propose to show that under
any but abnormal conditions it would not; and under condi
tions where it would, only temporary inconvenience would
result.

On first assuming the management of any industry, the gov
erning board, after an analysis of production, should determine
the producing time of all products. Call the time so deter
mined the initial producing time. The initial prices should
be fixed in conformity therewith. To make plain the subse
quent mode of operation in a commodity producing industry,
I shall describe the precise procedure for a sample industry,
but to simplify the explanation shall assume that its output
consists of but one commodity, and that only two classes of
wage earners are engaged in its production.

Assume that the directors of all industries receive from the
regulator of output on the first of each month a requisition
which shall specify what commodities, and what quantity there
of, j shall be produced and delivered to the distributor for the
month next but one following. Thus on the 1st of May the
requisition which shall determine the output for June would
be received. Suppose the directors of the sample industry to
receive such a report on May 1st, 19 — , requiring that they
deliver to the distributors by July 1st, 1,020,000 of the com
modity which they produce.

Under these conditions there are six different possibilities all
of which should be considered. (a) Any desired increase in
the personnel can be secured through the labor exchange, (b)

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCBACY 443

It cannot. An industry in condition (a) may be called in a
supplied condition; one in condition (b) in an unswpplied
condition. Under each of these conditions three cases should
be discussed. The output required for the month of June
will be either (1) Greater than the amount which can be de
livered by the operating force without increase in the hours
of labor beyond the standard time (See p. 445) for June, (2)
Equal to the amount, or (3) Less than the amount. Let us
call an industry subject to the first condition overstimulated,
that subject to the second unstimulatcd, and that subject to
the third under stimulated. This exhausts all possibilities, and
if the industrial mechanism we propose is so constructed as to
automatically adjust itself to each and all of these conditions,
then it cannot be thrown out of gear, except by a social convul
sion such as would wreck any system proposable. As the ad
vance in the arts will diminish the price of commodities with
out diminishing nominal wages, consumption, and therefore
demand, will be stimulated more and more, and the normal
condition of an industry will be one of overstimulation. That
is, on the introduction of the pantocratic system into any com
munity (a)l would be the normal condition of industry, and
in the later stages (b)l. Under any conditions, unstimulated
and understimulated industries would be exceptional.

Let us consider each case in order, and first let us assume
the sample industry to be in the condition represented by

(a) 1.

(a)l. The problems which the directors have to solve are
(1) How to fill the requisition, i. e. how to supply the demand,
with the least labor cost, and (2) How to adjust the price to
the hours of labor and the number of workmen, so that price
and hours of labor shall both diminish. Under the conditions
represented by (a)l both of these ends many be attained by
a mode of procedure adaptable to all commodity producing in
dustries, and with slight alterations to all industries.
of procedure is as follows:

The information needed by the directors and the governm
board in guiding their policy is provided by the monthly i
port required of every industry. The report of the sample in
dustry for the month of April, issued May 1st, would among
other information, include the following: (Specific data are
furnished in order to make the explanation clear.)

444 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BOOK III

No. of wage-earners of Class 1 receiving a nominal wage of $94.64 per

month 1,000

No. of wage-earners of Class 2 receiving a nominal wage of $78.78 per

month 4,000

Total commodities produced in April 1,000,000

Average duration of a day's labor 6 hours, 4 minutes

Total time spent in producing 1,000,000 commodities, 47,320,000 minutes
Producing time for April 47.32 minutes

The report for March 1st would contain the following:
Producing time for February 47.872 minutes

From this information can be calculated, in the first place,
the decrease in producing time for two months: 47.872 -
47.32 = .552 minutes. One assumption, and a sufficiently safe
one, is now necessary to adjust the industry to the task re
quired in June, and we shall see later that if the assumption
proves erroneous, the system is not disturbed (p. 455). It
is assumed that the average decrease in the producing time be
tween May 1st and July 1st will be equal to that between
March 1st and May 1st. That is, it is assumed that the pro
ducing time will diminish as much in one month as in another
closely contiguous thereto. If this assumption be sound, the
5,000 wage earners who produced 1,000,000 commodities in
April in 47,320,000 minutes, will in June, if they work the
same length of time, produce 1,011,800 commodities. Now, if
they should work the same length of time in June as in
April, the whole gain resulting from the decreased producing
time would go to the consumer. If, on the other hand, they
worked only just long enough to produce the 1,000,000 com
modities which they produced in April, the whole gain would
go to the producer. How then shall we divide the advantage
derived from improvement in the arts between producer and
consumer? This is accomplished by a device which I shall
call the industrial coefficient. Normally it would be fractional.
Ttie best value for the industrial coefficient cannot be pre
dicted apriori. Experience alone can determine it, and it prob
ably should be changed from time to time. Let us assume that
in May, 19 — , it is £. If now we multiply the assumed gain
in producing time by this fraction we shall obtain the product
.138 and this number, instead of .552, will be used to determine
the number of commodities to be produced by the 5,000 work
men in June. That is, they will be required to labor such
time as will suffice to produce 1,002,920 commodities. Call
this the standard number of commodities for June. It is ob-

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCBACY 445

tained by multiplying the assumed gain in producing time by
the industrial coefficient, subtracting the product so obtained
from the producing time for April, and dividing the remainder
into the time required to produce the April output.

Thus in June the number of minutes labor required of each
wage earner will be about 9,381, which is equivalent to six
hours, one minute per day, a decrease since April of three
minutes per day in hours of labor. This is called the standard
time for June in the sample industry; that is, the standard
time is the number of minutes per day or per month required
to produce the standard number of commodities. But 1,020,-
000 commodities were called for, and this only accounts for
1,002,920. Hence, 17,080 commodities must be, produced by
other' laborers. The number of laborers required for this pur
pose, assuming for simplicity that none were added May 1st,
can be discovered by the proportion :

1,002,920 : 5,000 : : 17,080 : X

X in this case is 85. The kind of workmen to be secured must
be determined in each case by the directors, since they know
what kind are required, but they will probably be of the same
kind and in the same relative proportion as those already em
ployed, viz., one of class (1) to every four of class (2). That
is, of the 85 new men, 17 will be of class (1) and 68 of class
(2). One month will then be available to obtain the new men
through the labor exchange. It may happen that some of the
wage earners in the sample industry will, in the meantime,
withdraw to other industries, but by having a month's leeway
all these inter-industrial adjustments should take place with
the minimum disturbance of industry, all men reporting for
work at their new places on the first of the month, and not
leaving their old until the last of the month, unless they re
quire time to traverse the distance from their old to their new
place of employment. Of course, inter-industrial exchanges of
wage earners could take place at other times, but industry
would suffer least disturbance by having the principal change
come at definite periods. Thus a means is provided for ab
sorbing new wage earners into an industry who will enter i
under the same favorable conditions of wages and hours as
those already there; at the same time insuring that the demam
shall be supplied.

The mode of making the producer gam by a decrease in the
producing time is now obvious. Next let us see how the con-

446 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS— PART II [BOOK III

sumer is to gain by it. How shall the price be adjusted to
give him his share in the industrial advance?

It should be the function of the governing board to fix
prices. These, of course, will depend upon the total expense,
and this will be the sum of the expenses attributable to the
four funds (a), (b), (c), (d) ; that attributable to funds (b)
and (c) evidently being very slight compared to that for funds
(a) and (d). The price for June need not be fixed until
July 1st, by which time the following information will be
available :

Expense per commodity for June attributable to fund (a) . . 19.75 cents
Expense per commodity for June attributable to fund (b) . . 00.70 cents
Expense per commodity for June attributable to fund (c) . . 00.30 cents

Sum 20.75 cents

To this must be added the main expense — that attributable
to the wages fund :

No. of wage-earners of Class (1)— 1,017 at a wage of

$94.64 per month $ 96,248.88

No. of wage-earners of Class (2) — 4,068 at a wage of

$78.78 per month 320,477.04

Compensation of Directors (assumed 4 per cent of compen
sation of wage-earners) 16 ^69.04

Sum $433,394.96

Dividing this total wages fund by 1,020,000, the number of
commodities produced in June, the quotient is 42.50 cents per
commodity. The total expense is then 42.50 + 20.75 = 63.25
cents.^ This is the price at which the whole 1,020,000 com
modities are delivered to the distributor at the works. The
price to the consumer is this sum, plus the cost of distribution
calculated in the same manner.

The expense in April would appear in the report of May 1st.
The expense per commodity attributable to fund (a) would
normally be greater than for June, because this fund goes for
services and supplies, and these are constantly cheapening
through the same process as that by which the commodity of
the sample industry cheapens. Thus, the fall in the price of
commodities produced by any industry will be a function, not
alone of the decrease in the' producing time in that industry,
but in all industries from which it draws its supplies of raw
material, machinery, etc., or whose services it requires in any

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCRACY 447

capacity. The expense per commodity attributable to funds
(b) and (c) would normally also be slightly larger for April
than for June, but for simplicity we shall assume that they are
the same. The April expense per commodity then would be
something like this:

Expense per commodity attributable to fund (a) 20.00 cents

Expense per commodity attributable to fund (b) 00.70 cents

Expense per commodity attributable to fund ( c ) 00.30 cents

Sum 21.00 cents

To this the wages fund should be added.

1,000 wage-earners at $94.04 per month $ 94,640.00

4,000 wage-earners at $78.78 per month 315,120.00

Compensation of Directors (4 per cent of compensation of

wage-earners) 16,390.40

Sum $426,150.40

Dividing by 1,000,000, the number of commodities, we get
42.615 cents as the expense per commodity attributable to fund
(d). Adding this to the other expenses, we have 21 + 42.015 =
63.615 cents as the price at which the commodity is delivered
to the distributor in April. Comparing this with the price in
June, we see that it lias fallen 00.365 cents in two months, a
gain to the consumer of about 00.6%. To make these same
calculations for any industry is merely a matter of bookkeeping.

All fiscal transactions between the various industrial depart
ments, whereby the accounts of each with the others are ad
justed, would be carried on between the respective governing
boards. In other words, all such transactions would be con
fined to the Treasury department, and with them neither the
directors nor the wage earners of any industry would be con
cerned. Their whole attention would be focussed on the prob
lems of production, the resulting fiscal transfers being removed
from their consideration.

Although normally the expense per commodity, as calcu
lated by the method explained above, will fall — in excep
tional cases it will rise. In any given industry, the rise may
be due to: (1) Bad management in the industry itself, where
by the producing time increases instead of decreasing: (2)
Bad management in industries from which supplies are drawn:
or (3) The exhaustion of natural resources upon which the
given industry depends for its raw materials : that is, the usual

448 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BooK III

order of things may be reversed, and the law of diminishing re
turns of labor operate to increase the labor cost of commodi
ties more effectively than the law of increasing returns can
operate to diminish it. Whenever, from any of these causes,
the labor cost of a commodity increases, the price, calculated as
we have indicated, will rise instead of fall, and this is just
what it should do to maintain the industry in a position of
self-support. Besides fluctuations from the' causes mentioned,
slight fluctuations would perhaps occur from another cause.
The expense fund (fund a) will, if the system of bookkeeping
is defective, fluctuate considerably, because repairs, additions,
and other sources of expense, are not uniformly distributed
throughout the year; and were this not allowed for, incon
venient fluctuations in prices would result. With a scientific
system of bookkeeping, however, such lack of uniformity can
be equalized, and the share of the total expense properly at
tributable to each commodity for each month adjusted in such
a manner as to avoid inconvenient fluctuations. The devices
for accomplishing this are not suited to explanation here, but
are sufficiently familiar to those who are concerned with the
technicalities of bookkeeping.

We thus see how, under the conditions postulated, the sam
ple industry would conduct itself on the receipt of the report
of the regulator of output embodying the demand of the na
tion. If it continued in condition (a) 1, this same procedure
would be repeated each month, the industry growing with the
demand which it was called upon to supply. If it did not
continue in condition (a)l, it would revert to one of the
other conditions mentioned on page 443, which will be dis
cussed in their order.

The reason why any industry the demand for whose products
is sufficient, can continuously increase the benefit accruing both
to consumer and producer is obvious. It is because the price
can be lowered, thus benefiting the consumer, and at the same
time the number of commodities to be produced so increased
as to keep wages as high as before, because, though the price
per commodity is less, the number of commodities sold is more.
Now if the arts are advancing, every overstimulated industry
while steadily lowering prices will, at the same time, shorten
the hours of labor and absorb the unemployed. This reacts
on all industries; increasing the consumption per capita of
those alrearly employed, and at the same time converting non-

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCRACY 449

producers into producers and thus increasing their consump
tion per capita.

Perhaps the reader may consider that the fall in price and
reduction of hours we have cited in our specific example is in
significant, but if he will make a slight calculation he can as
sure himself that the same rate of advance in all industries
would in ten years (1) Absorb a greater army of unemployed
than any nation ever had. (2) Increase the purchasing power
of every dollar nearly thirty per cent. (3) Decrease the hours
of labor about thirty per cent. Thus it would increase by
nearly one-third the real wages of every wage earner, and if the
hours of labor had originally been nine a day, they would, in
the ten years, fall to about six and a quarter. Moreover there
would be no army of unwilling unemployed. Such a rate of
improvement, if maintained for a single generation, would make
every member of the community well-to-do, and reduce the work
ing day to about three hours. ' Of course, the example given is
but an example, but it is doubtless an under rather than an ore/
estimate of what the conversion of politics into a branch of
technology would do for humanity.

From the example given it will be clear why no provision is
made for any general advance in wages in any industry. It
would be useless, since a general rise in nominal wages would
not in itself raise the real wages of any one. The system pro
posed, however, by constantly diminishing prices while holding
nominal wages constant, increases the purchasing power of the
dollar and thus continuously raises the real wages of every
wage earner in tlie community, and this simultaneously with
a.decrease in his hours of labor.

(a) 2. An industry is unstimulated if the demand for i
products is just that which is required to occupy the personnel
already employed by it for the standard time, i. e. for the num
ber of hours and no more which they would have been called
upon to work had the industry been overstimulated.
the example cited, had the sample industry been called upon t.
supply 1,002,920 commodities in June instead of
would have been unstimulated. In this case the price and the
hours of labor will fall just as in (a)l but there will be no
increase in the personnel. Otherwise all is as in (a)l.

(a) 3 In overstimulated and unstimulated industries
normal fall in price of commodities is due to two mam causes :
(1) The decrease of expense per commodity due 1
attributable to advance in related industries. (2) The de-
29

450 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BOOK III

crease per commodity due to fund (d) attributable to advance
in the industry itself, both resulting from increase in the pro
ductive power per capita. In understimulated industries only
the first of these causes of a diminished price is operative, be
cause the demand is insufficient to cause each operative to in
crease his production. Hence for understimulated industries
the price should be determined as in the case of overstimulated
and unstimulated ones so far as it is attributable to funds (a),
(b), and (c) — but that part of the price per commodity at
tributable to fund (d) should remain stationary, that is, it should
be precisely as in the month preceding. Thus in understimu
lated industries prices will not fall as rapidly as in others.

As the demand in such industries can be supplied by less
than the standard labor time, the hours of labor of those en
gaged in the industry will diminish; their wage will also di
minish, because after paying the expenses attributable to funds
(a), (b), and (c), there will not be enough to pay the nominal
wage. In this case all wages are diminished pro raid. Other
wise all is as in (a)l. It may be deemed by some critics a
fault in the system that there is not some provision to prevent
the decline of wages in an understimulated industry, but any
such provision would be a bad — not a good feature. An in
crease in the price might be such a provision or it might not,
but in any case it would be an incorrect policy. The proper
response to make to understimulation is not increase in price,
but decrease in personnel, and this would take place automati
cally. For every understimulated industry there would, in any
normal condition of society, be many that were overstimulated,
and if wages continued to fall, wage earners would — without
any break in production or intermediate period of unemploy
ment — withdraw from understimulated industries to overstimu
lated ones. This would be accomplished without difficulty or
hitch through the labor exchange. In other words, the laborers
wquld discharge themselves, not into an unemployed condition,
as in the competitive system, but directly into an overstimulated
industry. In fact, under all conditions', labor will tend to flow
from understimulated to overstimulated industries by a never-
failing law of human nature — that of self-interest. Thus any
industry would adjust itself automatically to local understimu
lation, for the decrease in personnel would leave the available
wages fund to be divided among fewer wage earners — the wages
would return to their nominal value, the hours of labor to the

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCRACY 451

standard, and the industry would pass into the unstimulated

This is the point to discuss the question of fluctuating in
dustries or those the demand for whose products varies with
the time of the year. Under present conditions there are
many such, and the periodic stimulation and slackness which
results is a cause of much chaos in industry, and distress among
wao-e earners. The system of pantocracy has peculiar advan
tages in dealing with industries of this class. Fluctuating in
dustries may be divided into two classes. (1) Those whose
fluctuations are foreseeable. (2) Those whose fluctuations are
not The first include almost all fluctuating industries, and it
is obvious that they can be converted into non-fluctuating me
trits by means of "the department of output regulation, which
anticipating the fluctuations, can provide against
requisition for every month approximately the same output as
for every other in the year. This steadying is not possible for
such industries as fluctuate irregularly and in a manner whicl
cannot be anticipated, and such must adjust themselves by cor
responding irregular fluctuations m personnel. t

Tb)l When we turn our attention to the condition of indus
try represented by (b)l, an interesting situation is encoun
tered In the first place, no such condition could exist while
any but voluntary vagrants were unemployed. In other words
if we admit that an misapplied industry can exist we admit
thai poverty can be cured for, with the equal distribution of
wealth and the vast increase of leisure and productive power
^pitaimte pantocracy, an employed person and a person
emancipated from poverty, would be synonymous, lo this it
Tav ^objected that there might be many persons ^employed
Blacking in skill or experience as to be unadapted to the work

more and more as the arts advance skilled labor is lispen sed
b™ this difficulty would be merely temporary. It »ould delaj,

452 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT II [BOOK III

but not check, progress. (2) The system of technical educa
tion under pantocracy to be described under section (8) would
insure that all men would be skilled in one or more productive
arts — hence totally inexperienced and unskilled men would
not be common.

Now an unsupplied industry may either (1) Lose in num
ber of wage earners through more leaving than can be sup
plied, (2) Remain stationary in number of wage earners, as
many being supplied as are lost, or (3) Gain in number of wage
earners, but gain less than the number called for. In any case,
it simply means that the wage earners called for through the
labor exchange cannot be supplied, through lack of applications
for the positions open. Failure to obtain the supply required,
however, will not throw the industrial mechanism out of gear.
The price is calculated precisely as in the case of (a)l and the
hours of labor of the short-handed operating force are extended
beyond the standard point sufficiently to supply the demand.
The result will be longer hours of labor, but the excess wages
fund will be divided equally among the wage earners. Thus,
for example, suppose the sample industry discussed under (a)l
was unable to get now laborers, but able to hold all it had.
The hours of labor under the conditions named would then
have been extended from six hours and four minutes per day
in April to six hours and seven minutes per day in June; the
wages of class (1) advancing from $94.04 per month to $90.04
per month, and of class (2) from $78.78 per month to $80.17 per
month.

After absorption of the unemployed, the first industries to
feel the lack of labor would be (1) Those the demand for whose
products was rapidly increasing, (2) Those in which the labor
was unpleasant. It is possible that one or both of these classes
of industry would become so unsupplied that in spite of every
advance in the arts which science could achieve, and in spite
of^the advance in wages incident thereto, the hours of labor
might so increase as to become excessive. It is perhaps hardly
worth while to speculate as to the best course to pursue in such
an emergency, since by the time it could arise, experience would
have taught men the best means of meeting it; but it would not
be difficult to meet in any event. A set of rules adapted to
each industry, specifying a progressive rise in nominal wages
as the hours of labor increased, would doubtless suffice. This
would act in two ways: (1) By increasing the price it would
check demand, and (2) By increasing the wages it would draw

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCBACY 453

more wage earners from other industries. The unwillingness
of men to work long hours at unpleasant occupations would
produce such a condition of undersupply therein that partic
ular inducements would be required to tempt wage earners to
enter them from pleasanter industries. A sufficiently high
wage would,, however, secure enough operatives to make possible
abnormal subdivision of the tasks to be done. Thus in un
pleasant industries the hours of labor would tend to become
unusually short and the wages unusually high. This would,
of course, tend to increase the prices of the desiderata produced,
but such a result would not be an evil, since by no other means
can unpleasant occupations be brought into a condition of
self-support.

Of course, the arts will improve faster in some industries
than in others. Backward industries, like unpleasant ones, in
order to avoid a condition of undersupply, would be compelled
to raise wages. By thus attracting a sufficient operating force
they could, by dividing the tasks to be done among a greater
number, maintain the working day as low as in progressive
industries. Thus improvements in the arts in one industrial
field would react upon all others, tending to free men from
labor as well in unprogressive as in progressive industries. In
this way all productive operations would automatically adjust
themselves to a condition whose margin of self-support approxi
mated a maximum.

(b)2. and (b)3. The industrial conditions represented by
these two symbols will obviously be similar in every respect
to those of (a) 2 and (a) 3, since as they do not need to absorb
labor, difficulty in its absorption will not affect them.

Thus we have considered all six of the cases specified on
page 443, and it is plain that the system proposed will auto
matically adjust itself to any and all of them. It provides a
complete means of adjusting the supply to the demand, both of
commodities and of labor, coincident with a simultaneous in
crease in the efficiency of production and of consumption. In
cidentally, moreover, it opens the way to an important expan
sion in the liberty of the community — in real liberty — not in
mere nominal liberty. This is rendered possible by the fact
that as production is not carried on blindly — as each operat
ing force knows precisely what it must accomplish during each
month — it can adapt its hours of labor to its tastes more eco
nomically than in the present treadmill mode of procedure.
Thus at the first of each month, or a few days previous, the

454 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS -PART II [BOOK III

requisition from the regulator of output specifying exactly
what commodities, and what quantity thereof, are to be produced
by the industry in the month next ensuing, should be posted in
every plant m said industry. With it should be connected
a tabulation showing the time which will be required, with the
means at hand, to produce the output thus specified. Suppose
for example, it was estimated that the work could be accom
plished by the force available by working six hours a day for
each working day in the month, that is for 26 days. Each man
then knows exactly what the task required of his plant is —
viz to deliver to the distributors, commodities of the kind and
quality specified in the requisition of the department of output
regulation, of the quality required by the bureau of inspection
He knows also, very closely, the time which will be required
to perform the task. It will require of each man 6 x 26 = 156
hours of work during the month. Now it makes no difference
to the consumer of commodities under what conditions they are
produced so long as they are of the quality required, and this
insured by the bureau of inspection. Hence the ends of
utility will best be subserved by permitting the producers, as
i- T-Y' «> £x for themselves, by a majority vote, the conditions
which will best suit them, instead of having these conditions ir
revocably fixed for them, as at present. The 156 hours work
per man required during the month can obviously be distrib
uted m a great many ways. For example the required work
can be accomplished :

(1) By working 6 hours per day for 26 days

(4) « « 7 « 48 " « « « 20 «

(5) " « 8 « 40 " « « " 18 "

(6) « « 9 « 45 « « « « 16 «

At the beginning of each month then the entire personnel
cotfld decide by vote which of the various modes of distribu
tion of labor was to be adopted for the month next ensuing
the mode receiving the greatest number of votes being adopted'
In this manner producers could determine to suit themselves the
way in which they would distribute their labor with the same

j)erty1T"]n fact ™th much Sreater liberty — than in the case
of small farmers, blacksmiths, or merchants, who are not em
ployees at all. They could, if they pleased, by working long

jurs each day, give themselves a vacation of a week or even

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCRACY 455

two weeks, at the end of each month in which to employ them
selves in adding to the output of the nation's happiness which,
as it is the primary purpose of a nation, is their first duty to
society. On the other hand, they might prefer shorter hours
each day and no vacation, or they might prefer some intermediate
mode of distributing their time and labor. Whatever the ma
jority preferred they could determine to suit themselves without
prejudice to the consumer. It might even be so arranged that
they could, if they pleased to so predetermine, work overtime
during some months, anticipating the requisition of the months
ensuing, so as to have a long vacation at times of the year
in which they could most enjoy themselves, but in what degree
such anticipation would be allowable experience alone could
determine. Some limits would certainly have to be placed
upon it, since otherwise difficulties might be met in adjusting
production to consumption — a vital object of the pantocratic
system.

" Of course it would not be possible for each man to choose
for himself the time in which he would perform his labor, since
the successful operation of a great plant requires a systematic
and simultaneous co-operation between laborers, which could not
be achieved if each man selected his own time for working; but
a definite plan of work, predetermined by a majority vote, would
involve no such difficulty as this.

Before going further two objections should be discussed, since
they may enter the reader's mind and cause unnecessary mis
givings. These are:

(1) The time assumed as that required to produce the
monthly output called for by the regulator of output may be
a miscalculation, resulting in inadjustment of supply to de
mand.

(2) Leaving the control of their hours of labor so largely
in the hands of the wage earners might result in considerable
periods in which the machinery of production was idle, which
is undesirable.

The first objection is easily answered. Every industry should
keep in stock a surplus of every commodity they produce, suffi
ciently large to eliminate the danger of a short supply. Now
if the time calculated as that required to produce the output :
incorrect, it will be either too long or too short. 'If it is too
long, then the residuum is simply added to the hours of leisure
of the wage earners — the producer gains and the consumer
does not lose. If it is too short the supply is made up from

456 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAET II [Boox III

the surplus, and the following month extra work will have to
be done to bring the surplus back to its normal level ; the labor
required for this, of course, not being considered in fixing the
price of the commodity.

In answering the second objection, answer will incidentally
be made to one which perhaps occurred to the reader on page
445, viz., how can an industry expand in men without simul
taneously expanding in the machinery which they require in pro
duction. This is simple. Every industry should keep its plant
considerably larger than is required for immediate needs, even
at the risk of some idle machinery. In no other way is it pos
sible to progressively absorb the surplus labor of a state whose
population is increasing, nor to provide against rapid expan
sion in demand. The equipment of modern industry is com
plex, and each addition to a plant requires time to construct.
The proper time for these enlargements should be decided upon
by the board of improvement, as will appear later. Economy
in the employment of machinery normally requires that it be
operated night and day, for by this policy less machinery is re
quired for a given rate of output than if it is allowed to remain
idle all night. To work a plant night and day requires a suc
cession of shifts, and without making elaborate explanations,
it is obvious that simply by varying the length of the shifts
according to the will of the majority the distribution of time
spent in labor could be adapted to the taste of the majority with
out involving that idleness of machinery which would require an
unnecessarily large plant. If, for example, the operating force
should vote to so lengthen the hours of labor per day in a given
month as to leave two weeks of complete freedom to each oper
ative, this would not mean that the plant would operate for
two weeks and then shut down for two weeks. It would mean
that half the operating force worked the first two weeks and
the other half the last two, the shift of each man being twice
as long as if he worked every working day in the month. The
details of assignment of duty, etc., would, of course, be left to
the directors.

The founders of the American Republic in order to "estab
lish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the com
mon defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the bless
ings of liberty " to themselves and their posterity, invented and
put in operation a social mechanism which, since 1789, has
served to guide the nation in its attempt to achieve the ends
specifiedv This mechanism is called the Constitution, It is

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCRACY 457

a purely artificial device, providing, or seeking to provide,
means whereby the people in their collective capacity rr

tv may

means wnereuy me peopie m IHUU uuiieuuve (japaciiv may
adopt such policies as appear to them most desirable. To
this end it provides for a system of officials, legislative, ex
ecutive, and judicial, designed to carry into effect the will of
the people, and directly or indirectly selected by the people.
This is the principle which sanctions all representative gov
ernment and it is a sound one. It is no part of my purpose
at this point to show the manner in which this purpose of
the Constitution has been defeated, nor to trace in detail how
by control of the machinery through which the people must
express their choice of officials a small minority now determines
for its own purposes the conduct and destiny of the nation.
It is sufficient to remark that in accomplishing this end the
dominant class of the community have simply availed them
selves of that universal quality of human nature which or
dains that men shall think in symbols, shall be guided by
names, instead of by that for which the names are symbols.
Having obtained control of the party names, the capitalistic
class thereby control the party policy which, without any
change of name, may be anything they choose to make it.
Secure in this possession, they have at their leisure deter
mined the policy of the nation with a view to promoting their
own welfare, and having capitalized all the material sources
of profit available, have proceeded to capitalize the habits of a
people who, unwitting if unwilling servants of the merest
symbols, are held in bondage by those shrewd enough to prot
by their infirmity. However successfully this particular in
tent of the Constitution builders has, through defective con
struction, been thwarted, the fact remains that the principle
they had in mind was thoroughly sound in general. No better
way of selecting those who are to fulfil a particular function
has been discovered than by leaving their selection to those
who are interested in having that function efficiently

1 Now pantocracy provides for a class of officials (the direct
ing class) who may be considered homologous with capitals
under the present system. We know how capitalist.
selected — through inheritance — through accident - through
unusual intelligence, unusual unscrupulousness, or fc
the capitalistic system so constituted that those whose wil
ability to increase the efficiency of production and consump
tion was the greatest tended to come into control of industry,

458 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT II [BOOK III

much might be said in its favor; but this is obviously not the
case. The system of conditional compensation insures that
the directing class under pantocracy shall have the will to serve
the community. How shall we insure that they shall have the
ability? This may best be done by providing that they be
selected by those whose interest it is that they have it. But it
is to the interest of all classes of the community that they have
it, since under pantocracy the interest of all classes is identical.
Hence perhaps as convenient a manner as any of selecting the
chief directors of industry would be to have them appointed
by the President, as a representative of the consuming class in
general., the appointment to be confirmed by a vote of the per
sonnel of the industry to which they are to be assigned. The
subordinate directors should, in general, be selected by the
chief directors. The directors of any industry would prob
ably be selected from those who had worked their way up in
that industry, since they would be most likely to have the
experience required to make them efficient, and the immediate
self-interest of all concerned in their choice would be opposed
to the selection of any but those who were efficient.

One other feature of the pantocratic system should be left
to the will of the people as a whole. This is the industrial
coefficient. A low value of the industrial coefficient would
represent a rapid decrease in hours of labor, a slow rise of
wages., and relatively great inter-industrial adjustment. A high
value of the coefficient would represent a slower decrease of hours
of labor, a rapid rise of wages, and less inter-industrial adjust
ment. Experience alone could determine what value of the co
efficient best suited the tastes of the people. Hence they should
determine it for themselves by the ballot. This, of course, is an
element of great flexibility in the pantocratic system, and could
be fixed, once a year, once every two years, or at any interval
found to be desirable. In this way the advantage of improve
ment in the arts could be divided between producer and con
sumer in any ratio which the desires of the people might sug
gest.

The principles explained in this section are applicable to other
than commodity producing industries. Indeed they may be
applied to all industries. Suppose, for example, the government
should take over the fire insurance business of the country,
abolish profit and put in its place a system of conditional com
pensation, whose amount should depend upon the simultaneous
shortening of hours of labor of employees and fall in premiums.

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCRACY 459

Improvements in fire prevention, economies in business methods
and organization, and expansion of business would in a few
years practically emancipate the employees from labor and reduce
the premiums of all policy holders to a small fraction of what
they are at present called upon to pay, and the same policy in
life insurance would, in a less degree, benefit that branch of in
surance. Similarly the system could be adapted to transporta
tion and to agriculture, though the precise mode of application
would have to be patiently worked out experimentally in each
industry.

Section ((5). It should never be for a moment forgotten
the deliberate object of the mechanism we are engaged in de
scribing is the emancipation of mankind from misery by the
application of science — the substitution for the present pain
producing svstem of a pleasure producing system. One of the
conditions essential to the fulfilment of this object is the devel
opment of a high efficiency of production, and upon the cftorts
to attain one all the forces of science should be focussed.
far the principal means we have proposed to secure that end
consists in the diversion of the power of self-mtercst f rom a
destructive into a constructive channel. By making the self-
interest of director and wage earner identical with one anc
and with that of the consumer, the first step has been taken,
for this means that the interest of each member of the com
munity is identical with that of the whole community, and it
is to the interest of the community that the efficiency of pro-

.

the will — all that is now required is the k.

Now upon what kind of knowledge is applied science founded?
It is founded upon a knowledge of pure «

fnd

vement m tne arts: L> -

3 chance It is left to such isolated, disinterested students a,
may lv occupving in research the scant leisure left them by the

Almost always poorly equipped, and having

460 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BOOK III

of their immeasurably valuable lives in getting a living, un
aided and unrecognized by the powerful of their time, they
pursued the thankless task of raising mankind from savagery.

Society, like some stupid dog, lacerating the hand which
would bind its wounds, has too often sought to oppress and dis
courage its greatest benefactors. Galileo persecuted, Columbus
betrayed and imprisoned, Copernicus ridiculed, Bentham
ignored, Paine hounded and impoverished, Marx exiled, and
Darwin denounced, are typical illustrations of the treatment
received by those who have sought to deliver men from the bond
age of their ignorance. And more illustrious cases may be cited.
Socrates and Christ sought to deviate mankind into common
sense so abruptly that the dogmatists of their time rewarded
them with death. The conservatives of every age have been the
bitterest foes of progress, and wherever dogma dominates it must
always be so. The real builders of civilization — those whose
pursuit is truth — cannot hope for recognition from their own
generation, and must work with what chance tools opportunity
may grant them.' Those to whom society awards her greatest
prizes are those who most injure and exploit her. To the mo
nopolist she assigns wealth and power — to the material or
moral pioneer, poverty and ridicule.

A people aware of their own interests would never tolerate
such a condition as this. The knowledge upon which the
emancipation of mankind depends should not be left to chance
development. To promote such knowledge a Department of In
dustrial Improvement should be organized. Under it a system
of extensive national research laboratories should be established in
every department of science, physical, chemical and biological.
They should be equipped with every appliance required for re
search, including skilled workers in glass, wood, metal, etc.,
besides instrument makers, and men skilled in every variety of
laboratory manipulation. The institutions thus equipped should
be put at the service of the ablest investigators in the country,
drawn from the universities, technical schools, and institutions
of learning. Systematic campaigns of research should be
planned and carried out by an army of investigators working in
concert. They should be offered ' such inducements that the
vocation of investigator would be the most sought of any in the
country, and the best minds drawn to the service. Their whole
attention, undisturbed by the necessity of making a living or
teaching, should be centered upon research. Each year a cer
tain number should be taken from those nominated by the uni-

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCRACY 461

versities and technical schools — private and public — and the
system should expand as the country increased in population.
Division of labor should be introduced — not alone a separation
of investigators into specialists, but a separation of investigators
and manipulators; and the latter should outnumber the former
at least four or five to one. As it is at present, the most gifted
investigators are required to spend most of the little time they
have in assembling and setting up apparatus. This is as waste
ful in research as it would be in business if the managers ot
o-reat enterprises were compelled to write their own letters, file
their own papers, clean their own inkstands, and attend to the
thousand details which should be attended to by those whose
time is less valuable. In practically all experimentation, pre-
paration for experiment consumes 90 per cent ot the time.
BY introducing the principle of the division of labor, which has
done so much for the mechanical arts, the art of investigation
could be proportionally improved. The time of the best in
vestigators could be confined to thought and study as it should
be- most of the actual manipulation could be left to men of the
artisan class, trained to that art, and the great institutions of
research could be run night and dav like factories By
policy results could be accomplished in a fraction of the time
now required, and the few men out of each generation whom
nature endows with great talents could make the most of their
rare ability to serve the human race. In this way results which
would take a thousand years to accomplish under the present
Tystm could be accomplished in fifty. The substitution o
socialized for individualized research would increase the per
capita output of discoveries in the same degree astiie substitu-
tTon of socialized for individualized industry has increased the
npr ranita output of commodities.
P Not the S important among these institutions of research

srs

this difficult field of investigation. It should not be lett

ssr c art

devise.

462 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS— PART II [BOOK II

not a part, but the whole, of their time to devote to the sub
ject, and all portions of the work not requiring highly trained
men should be performed by assistants. These investigations
should be carried on night and day, until disease, mental, moral,
and physical is abolished or reduced to a minimum. Compared
with a work like this, the building of railroads, the develop
ment of water-powers, and the dredging of canals, is of such
slight consequence as to be negligible. He who can think other
wise has had his sense of proportion hopelessly distorted by the
strange commercial ideals of the time, ideals so devoid of com
mon sense as to constitute a distinct variety of mania.

Nor should scientific investigation be confined to those realms
in which it is now customary to regard it as legitimate. It
should enter the psychical and moral fields now occupied by
visionaries, cranks, and madmen; fields which develop the in
tellectual fungi of occultism, with its spooks, its oriental orgies,
its lurid mysticism, its improvised religions, and all the other
paraphernalia of pseudo-science or imaginative philosophy.
There is much to learn concerning these little investigated
phenomena of mind, but the way to learn it is to apply the
method of common sense, the method by which we have learned
all we know, and in the absence of which the word knowledge
is meaningless. Ignorance has always regarded the unfamiliar
as the supernatural, but whatever basis in reality the d elvers
in psychical research may have for their observations, they will
be best revealed by open-minded and systematic investigation.
Much that is of vital interest to the happiness of mankind might
be revealed by such an investigation, and should preliminary ex
amination justify it, this would be as reasonable a field of re
search as any other.

Associated with the institutions of pure research should be a
system of laboratories devoted to applied science. Each great
industry, or division of industry, should have its own labora
tories whose sole business it would be to devise and bring to per
fection improvements in the arts. To these laboratories the
best inventors should be given every encouragement to come.
By the same system of divison of labor as that suggested for the
research laboratories they should be relieved of every task which
would divert them from the immediate end sought. The most
successful laboratories now pursue this policy, and with the
organization and equipment which the government could afford
to install, the efficiency of co-operative invention could be vastly
improved.

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCRACY 463

The force employed in these technical laboratories would be
in communication with the masters of science in the research
laboratories, on the one hand, and with the workmen and fore
men engaged in the actual operation of the processes of pro
duction, on the other. Thus the pure theorist, the trained en
gineer, and the practical mechanic, would co-operate in every
industry to develop those improvements in the arts upon which
the emancipation of mankind depends; and every facility for,
and incentive to, improvement should be afforded them. There
would be no trade secrets, no concealed methods, because com
petition would be abolished and every one's interest would be
the same. The operation of every great industry would be open
to the inspection of all who could suggest modes of improve
ment therein. Specific rewards should be offered by the gov
ernment for specific improvements in methods, and those arts
which were backward should be thus stimulated in the highest
decree Every inventor should be given incentives of this kind.
As in the case of the director class of laborers, his reward should
be made proportional to his success in achieving his ends. Sim
ilarly no limits should be placed upon the time that he should
devote to invention and experiment, for it is to the interest ol
all concerned that those men upon whom the advance oi human
society depends should put as much of their time as possible into
efforts to that end. Their capacity for benefiting society is
o-reater than that of other men, and that capacity should not,
by society, be permitted to go to waste. Moreover no work is
Dleasanter and more inspiring than theirs, particularly when
relieved of the drudgery of detail, the minor manipulation of
experiment, and in inciting them to work with zeal and per
sistence society would but increase the stimulus afforded by
their natural inclinations. Governmental activity mdevel.
ing the arts is but an extension of governmental activity in ap
plying them to production. Just as the nation should support
and control vast industries whose sole object is the production
of commodities; so it should support and control a vast industry
whose sole object is the production of improvements in the
means of producing those commodities.

lUs obvious, however, that a governmental system of organ
ized and co-operating laboratories should not be a substitute for,
but an addition to, such as are carried on by private individuals
nd^titutions. Neither private nor public monopoly of
ledge t desirable, because knowledge is something which
by division. In the transfer of knowledge, the gain

464 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BOOK III

of one is not the loss of another, as in the case of wealth. No
man or nation can lose knowledge by giving it to others, and
no man or nation can have too much of it.

Closely affiliated with the department of industrial improve
ment should be a body composed of trained technologists and
statisticians, which may be called the National Board of 1m-
lyrovement. Its function should be the control of the reserve
portion of the improvement fund (fund b) of all industries.
Before the directors of an industry could undertake any great
enlargement or improvement involving a heavy drain on the
improvement fund it would be necessary to obtain the approval
of the board of improvement, or of a local board selected by it.
This would tend to insure all industries against excessive or
unwise expenditure as a result of the zeal of the director class
to reduce the producing time of commodities.

The national board of improvement should be in general
charge of advancing the industry of the nation. Besides con
trolling the expansion of manufacturing industries, it should
superintend the exploration of the country by experts with a
view to developing its mineral and agricultural resources in
conformity with a systematic and comprehensive policy of de
velopment, with a view to the interests of posterity. The ex
tension of railroads, the erection of irrigation works, and the
improvement of navigation on scientific and maturely consid
ered principles, should be left in its hands. In this way the hap
hazard, chaotic, wasteful, unrelated, unorganized and unsys
tematic development of private and conflicting interests would
be done away with, and the resources of the country preserved
for the benefit of its inhabitants, instead of being dissipated for
the benefit of a few land-grabbers and capitalists. Organization
should take the place of disorganization in the preparatory de
velopment of the country, as in every other branch of industry.

The organization of invention, embodying the principles of
the co-operation and division of labor would produce results
in the modes of improving the arts as great as it has in the
mode of producing commodities. By organizing the manufac
ture of shoes, for example, one man to-day can turn out fifty
or a hundred times the product that he could two generations
ago. By similarly organizing the manufacture of improvements
in the arts, those improvements will be turned out at an equally
accelerated rate. When it is so plain that the emancipation of
men from poverty and toil depends upon this improvement,

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCRACY 465

can common sense do less than undertake the means of accom
plishing it?

Section (7). As a considerable portion of the ills of life are
those resulting from the anticipation of evil, means of insuring
the security of the future have always been, sought by prudent
men and communities. One of the chief objects of the insti
tution of property is to attain such security, and the various
forms of insurance are provisions against future contingencies
which operate to promote tranquillity of mind. As all human
beings have a greater or less prospect of reaching old age, and
outliving their capacity for systematic production, means which
will secure to this period of life peaceful existence without
labor are highly desirable. In a number of modern states —
notably in Germany — the government has assumed the func
tion of providing this security to laborers, and it is a function
which all governments should undertake. There are various
forms of old age insurance, but they are all alike in principle,
and when most of the laborers in a state are employed by the
state itself, the application of the system is particularly simple.
It should consist in withholding from each wage-earner a cer
tain small percentage of his monthly wage, and placing it to his
credit ; the fund thus accumulated to be paid back to him when
incapacitated from age, or to his heirs, should he not survive
so long. Such a system would insure the country against all
pauperism not resulting from defective mind or body, and each
man could enjoy life as it passed without fear of the future,
knowing that from his own industry a fund was accumulating
which would secure his old age, and of which he could avail
himself without the humiliating knowledge that he was de
pendent upon the community. This is a subject already well
understood, and requires no extended treatment here. Its rela
tion to utility is obvious. Not less obvious is the expediency
of providing 'in a similar manner against sickness, accident, or
other calamity, and such insurance the government should pro
vide. Whether it should be made compulsory or not may be
open to debate — but the probabilities are that it should be.

Section (8). The educational system of the United States and
of most, if not all, nations is local in character and varies from
place to place within the nation. In all countries, not archaic
in political practice, education is provided by the community, the
theory being that as education is vital to the interests of the
community it should be provided by the community and not
left in private hands. If experience proves the education thus
30

466 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [Boos III

provided by local communities to be adequate it may perhaps
be left to them, but in a thoroughly organized condition of
society it is probable that a national system of education will
be found preferable. It would be independent of local enter
prise or local competence, and the nation would be justified in
undertaking such a task, because in the absence of adequate
education no nation can hope to attain the primary end of
utility — a self-supporting community. To the attainment of
this end, of course, any means is justifiable, and all obstacles to
its attainment may justly be removed by deliberate acts of the
state itself.

Very briefly I shall attempt to outline the scope of a national
system of education which will embody the principles enunciated
in Chapter 6, not attempting to enter into details or methods of
organization, but confining attention to fundamentals.

Assuming then that every community is provided with facili
ties for education, school-houses, equipment, teachers, etc., ade
quate to its population — what essential changes m present
modes of education should be introduced? They may be di
vided into changes of quantity and of kind.

As to quantity there are three alternatives open in the future.
(1) The nation can provide less education than at present. (2)
The same amount of education as at present. (3) More edu
cation than at present. I believe it safe to assert that experience
has shown that nothing is to be gained by less education, and
that if there is to be gain, it must be by more. If education
thus far has not accomplished all that might have been hoped,
it is not because there is too much of it, but too little,
fact is that the things which it is important for the members
of society to know cannot be quickly acquired. Knowledge o±
reading,- writing, and arithmetic, is not sufficient for the average
man. The primary schools are essentially means of imparting
the notation of knowledge — the symbols or instruments of
thought. Secondary schools should be provided wherein all
members of society should be taught the use of those symbols
in thinking. The youth of the nation should be taught how
to apply them in all cases by systematic instruction in how to
apply them in the most typical and important cases,
this economic tastes should be deliberately cultivated, and the
amount of education of both kinds should be as great as society
can afford And society cannot afford to pursue any parsimon
ious policy in regard to education. Reckoned even in money
cost ignorance is costly, while if its cost be reckoned in happiness

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCRACY

467

it is ruinous. In the present condition of per capita wealth,
every child in the country should have not less than an amount
of schooling equivalent to a high-school course. This would be
an expensive operation, and might require the withdrawal of
some labor now expended in the development and dissipation
of natural resources; but though an expensive policy it would
be an economical one. Economy does not consist in spending
little money — it consists in obtaining the equivalent of what
money is spent — be it much or little. When by advance in the
arts the per capita wealth increases there is no reason why
every youth — male and female — in every civilized country,
should not obtain an education superior to that provided by
colleges of the present day.

In asserting that every child in modern communities should
receive an amount of schooling at least equivalent to that now
received in a high school course I do not mean to imply that
as much time need be consumed as at present. The same
amount of information and training could be obtained with far
less consumption of time. There is no reasonable excuse for
keeping children in school a specified number of hours each
day., independent of what they accomplish. This tends to make
dullards of them by encouraging a drowsy, indifferent, diffused,
condition of mind, inconsistent with that concentration which
is essential to vigorous thought. Hence even if successful in
mere acquisition of information the finished product of this
system too often becomes

" The bookful blockhead ignorantly read,
With loads of learned lumber in his head."

The same principle applicable to industry is applicable to
education. .Self-interest should be made to aid, instead of to
oppose, the inculcation of knowledge. Definite tasks should be
assigned each scholar each day, and when performed to the
satisfaction of the teacher, he should be permitted his freedom.
Perhaps a system of this kind would involve some inconveniences
to the teacher, but it would cultivate quickness and concen
tration of mind in the scholar and provide an immediate
incentive to application. As tilings are at present a student
in any school below the college grade is compelled to dilly-dally
in the school-room a certain number of hours each day whether
he be the brightest or the dullest scholar there. It makes no
difference what he does or does not do, he must be in school the
same length of time. Hence his task becomes a bore — he drones

4G8 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS— PART II [BOOK III

through, with it, and his capacity for mental concentration
diminishes, because habits of mental diffusion are encouraged by
the educational system. A premium should be put upon con
centration, and none would be more available or tend more
convert study into a pleasure than to make the hours of study
an inverse function of accomplishment, just as in industry,
the pantocratic system makes the hours of labor an inverse
function of production.

This might not be possible with the very lowest grade schools,
where the perpetual presence of a teacher is necessary, but in
those where written tests are possible such a system would not
be difficult to devise. Suppose, for example, the first hour of
each school day was devoted to written tests of the lessons as
signed the day before; the understanding being that the school
hours of the following day would be an inverse function of the
success achieved in these examinations. The result would be
that the brightest scholars would remain in school perhaps not
more than two hours a day, while the duller would remain longer
and receive the more exclusive attention of the teachers.
is lust as it should be. The present system of holding all schol
ars down to, or near, the rate of advance possible ^to the dullest
in the same number of hours of work, is nonsensical. The in
centive to concentrated and alert effort by such a system would
be vastly greater than that afforded by a weekly chromo, and it
would lengthen the hours of play — a great desideratum with
children of all ages. To read and mark so many written test
every day would perhaps be more work than could be expected
of a teacher, but it would not require a teacher to do it. A
corps of assistants consisting of more advanced students could
divide the work between them at a trifling cost to each. The
total result of such a system, modified perhaps to meet particular
exigencies, would be a vast saving of time and labor, and would
involve just as much or more acquisition of information and
much better mental training. It is not my intention, however,
to discuss pedagogical methods, and the suggestion hero given
is mentioned incidentally, merely as an example of the applica
tion of the pantocratic 'principle of utilizing self-interest as a
motive power.

To specify anything about amount of education without
specification as to kind ' can afford little useful information. No
amount of education of some kinds would be of any use to men.
The Chinese system of education is adequate as to quantity,
but is of a useless kind, consisting principally of memorizing

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCRACY 40',)

the works of ancient writers. Jt is a mere training in tradition
and tends to little more than mental ossification. A system of
education essential to a self-supporting modern community
should consist of two kinds — academic and technical. The
first everyone should have, and it is desirable that all men
should have more or less of the second also.

The first function of academic education is to cultivate eco
nomic tastes, the love of the beautiful in nature and art, a
taste for history, literature, and other fine arts, and the capacity
to express thought and emotion in language. The second func
tion is to supply such information as is of universal interest -
the knowledge of conventional symbols involved in reading and
writing, geography, history, mathematics, the elements of physics
and biology and the laws of health. These two functions are
recognized to-day. Their relation to utility requires no ex
planation. An increase in the quantity of such studies, to
gether with the abolition of Greek and Latin in public schools,
except as electivcs, could easily be made to bring these office*
of education up to a standard sufficient for the purposes of an
adequate system. The third, and not the least important, func
tion of academic education is the study of common sense, and
this might well take the place of the study of the dead languages
in the high school. The study of languages, other than the
vernacular is a waste of time unless it is thorough, and it
never thorough in any school below the college grade — except
ing of course in schools devoted to languages exclusively. Com
mon sense is a subject of universal application and universal
interest, and its principles should be universally known instead
of universally unknown as at present. As heretofore shown, a
knowledge of common sense includes a knowledge of (1) Ine
nature of intelligibility, including the principles of the uni
versal symbolic mechanism of thought, in the absence ot
which, reasoning can not advance beyond the stage achieved by
an intelligent animal. (2) The nature of truth, including the
principles of logic; the modes by which valid are distinguished
?rom invalid expectations or beliefs. (3) The nature of use
fulness, including the principles of morals; the mode of dis
tinguishing degrees in the utility of acts. This knowledge does
not arise spontaneously in every mind, as some persons appear
to believe. If it did,' disagreement between the P'^nts of
men would be a rare occurrence. It requires to be deliberately
"aughT- nor is it easy to acquire. As already shown, common
sense is a universal guide in common affairs, but m oth

470 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BOOK III

affairs it is usually abandoned. To prevent this its principles
should be known. Common sense may be considered a branch
of technology; in truth it is its foundation, and because of this
it should be included in an academic instead of confined to a
technical education. The principles of logic are the foundation
of pure science ; the principles of morals of applied science ; and
without observing the principles of meaning, neither kind of
science would exist at all.

Dogmas should not be taught in schools. The dogmatic in
fection arising from family traditions is bad enough. Hence
no criterion of truth or of utility, not dependent upon the uni
versal structure of the mind should be recognized in public
instruction. Logic and utilitarianism as herein expounded are,
however, founded upon the structure of mind and are inde
pendent of the previous history of any mind. The fitness of
teaching the principles of logic in public schools would per
haps be conceded; but about the principles of morals there
would be disagreement. No system of morals is taught in any
public school, and yet it is clear that nothing is more important
than a knowledge of the principles of morals. A system of
morals should be taught in the public schools, but it should not
be a dogmatic system; it should not be the system of the Bap
tists, or the Catholics, or the Jews, or the laissez faire econo
mists, or the Mohammedans, or any other system whose criteria
are dependent in any degree upon the accidents of history. The
utilitarian system of morals is not a dogmatic system, but is a
branch of common sense. And yet it cannot be denied that
there would be widespread opposition to the teaching of this
system in the public schools — not because it is dogmatic, but
because it is not dogmatic. A little examination, however,
would show the opposition to be rather verbal than real.

That the utilitarian system of morals is founded upon real
and vital distinctions in experience would not be denied by any
person with mental capacity enough to comprehend it. Nor
would there be opposition to expressing these distinctions so
long as such expression was confined to verbal symbols like
"surplus of happiness," " utility/' etc. But should the words
"right" and "wrong" be employed, opposition would develop
at once. These modes of spelling are consecrated to dogmatic
purposes, and should they be given any definite meaning of
universal interest, and that meaning taught in the public schools,
it would give much offense. It is probable therefore that, so
far as public instruction goes, these terms, for a while at least,

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCRACY

471

would have to be left in their present state of equivocality and
uselessness, expressing nothing of importance to mankind, and
yet appearing to do so. Nevertheless the distinction which we
have expressed by these opposed terms could perhaps be brought
out in public instruction by changing the spelling of the words.
The meanings we have expressed by the words conscientious and
unconscientious might, for example, be expressed by the words
aequum and inaequum, and those for right and wrong by bonum
and malum respectively. Certainly it is useful for all men to
clearly apprehend the vital distinctions in experience which
these words are designed to express, and so long as they are
clearly apprehended, the sound or spelling of the words em
ployed to express them is of slight consequence. We might, if
we pleased, employ the expressions x and not x, and y and not
y for this purpose, and I should have pursued such a policy in
this work, were it not that thought and the symbols of thought
are so intimately related in the minds of men, that to employ a
symbol of unfamiliar sound would have been equivalent to fail
ure in achieving familiarity of sense. Perhaps by some such
device as suggested a complete code of common sense could
be taught in public schools. The methods employed should be
identical with those used in teaching mathematics. The prin
ciples and rules should first be explained. Examples, using ab
stract symbols should then be worked out by the student to
familiarize him with the abstract application of the principles,
and lastly examples of concrete application, particularly political
application, should be worked out, to familiarize him with the
concrete application. This is precisely the method employed
in teaching algebra, which is a special branch of logic, and were
a demand created, graded text books of common sense would be
written through which the theory and practice of common sense
could be made familiar to every person of competent under
standing.

A people so trained would be capable of self-government in
a degree unknown at the present time. They would be dogma
and demagogue proof. They could not be led like sheep to the
sacrifice, betrayed by their own ignorance into the hands of
selfish tyrants' or unselfish fools. They could no longer be
deceived by the mere sound of words, whether used by the dis
honest demagogue, deliberately meaningless, or the political
mystic — well meaning but unmeaning. With common sense
once thoroughly mastered by a whole people the road to hap
piness would be very easy. It is ignorance of common sense

472 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT II [BOOK III

which has held, and still holds, the world in bondage. While
this ignorance persists it cannot be free, for it cannot adapt its
means to its ends.

Moreover an educated populace would not easily lose its equi
librium. Appeals to its passions and prejudices would have
slight chance of success, and in such a society the occupation of
the agitator would be gone. Mob-rule is, if anything, more
intolerable than autocratic rule, and it is a danger from which
capitalism is never free. The only way to abolish the possibility
of mob-rule is to abolish the materials out of which mobs are
made, and the universality of education and of opportunity
under pantocracy would accomplish precisely such a result.
Men are what their inheritance and education make them; and
if there are classes in the community who are, or may become,
a menace to the stability of organized government, it is because
the prevailing social system sets in operation causes which pro
duce them. Repression cannot forever free us from the danger
of anarchy, but the abolition of ignorance and poverty can.

Of technical education little need be said, except that the
nation should provide trade schools and schools of technology
wherein the practice of the industrial arts should be taught. All
men could not become thoroughly trained engineers, but all
could become proficient in one or more trades and fit to play
their part efficiently in the industrial mechanism. Certificates
from the technical schools should be accepted as guarantees of
competence by the various industrial departments of govern
ment, and the kind of position a man inexperienced in actual
production would be fitted to apply for, would depend upon the
kind and amount of technical education he was able and willing
to secure. The more universal and thorough technical educa
tion, the greater the number of skilled mechanics and inventors
per thousand of the population would be developed, and the
greater the number of such, the more rapidly would the arts im
prove under their direction. The technical schools would thus be
feeders, not alone of the commodity producing industries, but of
the invention producing industry, and would augment the effi
ciency of both. Incidentally the widespread study of science
required in technical education would develop the most economi
cal of tastes — the love of truth — of which modern science
is the product. Next to the love of usefulness this is the loftiest
and most satisfying of passions, and its gratification reacts
beneficently upon the whole community. The encouragement
of such an intellectual passion by the organization of research

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCRACY 473

and invention, together with the diffusion of scientific education
by an organized system of technical schools, would develop a
nation of investigators and technologists whose knowledge and
control of the forces of nature would rapidly emancipate the
world. We have the same reason for expecting such a result
to follow the adoption of pantoeracy as we have, in general, for
expecting effect to follow cause.

Some of the suggestions made in this section are doubtless too
radical to be taken seriously at the present time, but as I am
concerned neither with radicalism nor conservatism, but with
common sense, I give them for what they are worth. At the
present day the suggestion that all human beings should be
taught the difference between right and wrong, for example, may
sound radical, but in the future it will probably appear con
servative.

Having thus described in outline the system of pantocracy,
let us now, following. the same course as in Chapter 11, examine
the presumable effect of such a system upon each of the ele
ments of happiness; at the same time comparing them with the
effects of the competitive system. In thus testing the mechan
ism of pantocracy it should be remarked that to compare it with
a perfect mechanism — one which admitted of no criticism,
theoretical or practical, would be idle. I do not claim that
the mechanism of pantocracy is defectless, but I do claim that
it is less defective than any of its alternatives. To compare it
with its antithesis, the competitive system, will sufficiently indi
cate its status as compared with the related systems which we
have discussed.

First: How does pantocracy compare with competition in
its effects upon the first element of happiness — the quality of
the sentient agent? In Chapter 11 we have shown that compe
tition, if its ideals are realized, tends, through inheritance, to
deteriorate the human breed by means of the survival of the
incompetent, and that its principal educative tendency is toward
the development of craft, dishonesty, and general egotism.

In contrast to these, what effects would pantocracy presumably
produce? Pantocracy claims to be a means of curing poverty
— at any rate it will either cure it or it will not. Should it
fail as completely as competition to cure it — an absurd sup
position — race deterioration would go on as under competition,
but it would not be accelerated. On the other hand, should it
succeed in curing poverty it would thereby suspend the operation

474 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT II [BOOK III

of the law of the survival of the incompetent by bringing com
petent and incompetent into the prosperous, educated, slow
breeding., class; i. e., it would cause the prudential restraint
upon propagation to operate upon all natural classes of the popu
lation instead of upon the naturally competent alone. This
would open the way to a practical means of improving the
human breed by some such method as that proposed by Galton
on page 206. It would be premature to discuss at this point
the possible modes of stimulating artificial selection among
human beings as a means of improving the breed. To cure
poverty is to suspend the Law of Malthus, and it cannot be
suspended without curing poverty. Moreover until that law is
suspended, no efficient mode of improving the human breed can
be suggested; but once the indefinite increase of population
can be controlled, the most potent of all instruments for in
creasing the happiness of the world is placed within reach of
humanity — the possibility of improving the sentient agent
itself — 'an agent at present wretchedly adapted to its end —
for man is not only weak, stupid, and egotistic, but he is
thousands of times more sensitive to pain than to pleasure — all
of which is precisely the reverse of what an efficient happiness
producing mechanism should be. Pantocracy offers the oppor
tunity of changing such conditions, and of conferring upon
posterity the unequalled blessing of an increasing superiority of
parentage — a heritage greater than wealth or power — or even
knowledge. Such would be the effect of pantocracy upon the
factor of inheritance.

As to education it would but extend and emphasize the so
cialistic practice of public education already so well begun.
Much money is now expended by the state in education, but
not nearly enough. Eealizing that the development of the
human mind and character is indefinitely more important than
the development of the natural resources of a country, par
ticularly at this stage of human progress, pantocracy would,
by' the necessary taxation, deliberately divert money, that is
labor, which under capitalism is employed in development of the
latter kind, to development of the former kind.

Second : Under pantocracy the factor of adjustability during
production ought to be higher than under competition. It is
true the work would be more intensive — while the men worked
they would work faster — but it would not be the hopeless
treadmill work of the present system. There would be an in
centive to it — it would be like an interesting game, for the

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCKACY 475

duration of labor would be an inverse function of the speed of
work. There would probably be no dawdling, but this would
be a small loss, even assuming dawdling to be a source of pleas
ure, since the less dawdling the more play — the more hours of
unhampered consumption. Moreover there would be hope in
work under pantocracy; not the kind of hope which partakes
little of expectation, but expectant hope, since each year, each
month even, would see the conditions of industry improve —
there Avould be no fear of discharge, no insecurity of employ
ment to dread — each year would see an increase in the wages
of the workmen, depending directly upon the rate of improve
ment in the arts and upon their own capacity to rise. Every
wage-earner would have opportunity to reach the director class,
independent of his social connections, since the more capable he
showed himself, the more would it be to the interest of ap
pointing and confirming power alike, to elevate him to a posi
tion of responsibility. Thus hope would replace despondency,
and all men, whether of exceptional talents or not, could antici
pate secure, peaceful and continually improving, conditions of
employment. Moreover congenialty of employment would in
most cases be assured through the use of preference numbers
in assigning positions through the labor exchange; and in those
industries in which the work was inevitably uncongenial, there
would be compensation in increased wages. Thus under pan
tocracy, wage-earners would have something better to look for
ward to during their work than sleeping well at night. They
would have something to live for, and they would work will
ingly, knowing that the more willingly and efficiently they
worked the more would life be worth living, for themselves and
for others; whereas under the chaos of competition, rapid and
efficient labor leads to no shortening of hours, and merely has
tens the inevitable day of overproduction and crisis, when, as
a penalty of work only too well done, the laborer finds himself
out of employment and reduced to want. Xo wonder the labor
organizations under the unadjusted conditions of supply and
demand prevalent under competition sometimes seek to limit
production. It is simply a question of self-defense — a means
of postponing the ever impending industrial crisis inseparable
from the production-madness of capitalism.

Adjustability during consumption is likewise promoted by
pantocracy. Under competition the desire for wealth can be
gratified by only a small proportion of the population; with the
great majority 'it must remain ungratified ; and the conditions

476 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAET II [BOOK III

of its attainment under that system are such that many, if not
most, of those who attain it are no better satisfied than those
who remain poor. Thus the only useful purpose of wealth
is defeated in both cases. Pantocracy, however, solves the pro
blem by making happiness independent of "wealth, or rather of
any quantity of wealth greater than is accessible to everyone in
the community, not defective in faculty. It provides that any
great accumulation of wealth is impossible, but it insures hap
piness without such accumulation. Under no possible system
can everyone in a community be wealthy, but under a common-
sense system all can be happy — and if happy they have no
need of wealth. By bringing all able adult males into the
working class, and then, by the substitution of machinery for
men, converting the working class into a leisure class, society
is completely emancipated ; and as independence and happiness
is to be had without wealth, money-lust and its attendant ills
will disappear. The desires of the people will be such as may
be fulfilled under the conditions by which they find themselves
surrounded. Success under competition means the accumula
tion of wealth, which is, as we have pointed out, no more than
the acquisition of means by which one set of men are enabled
to avail themselves of the labor of another set. Under compe
tition, in other words, the success of one man is at the cost of
the failure of other men, and the greater the success of one,
the greater the failure of others — this is the essence of com
petition. Under pantocracy, on the other hand, things are so
devised that the only means by which an individual can attain
success is by benefiting society — hence the success of one
means the success of all, and the greater the success of one, the
greater the success of all — this is the essence of pantocracy.
There is just as much room at the top under pantocracy as
under competition, but as most men cannot reach the top, means
must be provided for being happy even at the bottom if the
ends of utility are to be met, and these means pantocracy seeks
by 'practical and definite devices to provide.

The nervous strain and anxiety inseparable from life under
the uncertainty of the competitive system would, under pantoc
racy, be replaced by a justified tranquility of mind due to ample
insurance against sickness, old age, or other source of inca
pacity in an institution of practically perfect security — the
government itself. Moreover the danger to health involved in
long hours, in unsanitary places of occupation, in the con
gestion and vice inseparable from great manufacturing centres

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCEACY 477

under competition, in the ignorance and carelessness of the sub
merged and spawning millions which are the normal product*
of capitalism would, under pantocracy, disappear with the causes
which produce them. The labors of the national medical
laboratories, established for the sole purpose of diminishing and
finally abolishing disease, would augment the efficacy of all these
improved conditions, and in the end, the co-operative efforts of
science would do away with ill health, as with all the other ills
to which mortality is subject.

Third: As to the effect of pantocracy on natural resources,
we shall, as with competition, postpone specific consideration of
the subject until we have examined the effect of our system
upon the efficiency of consumption, and quantity of population.

Fourth: Comparison of the effect of competition with that
of pantocracy in promoting the use of machinery in the arts
is of particular importance in our inquiry. This is deemed by
its advocates the strongest point in the system of capitalistic
competition, its strength arising from the stimulus afforded
capitalists by the promise of profit to improve the arts and save
the labor of men, thus providing the means of saving the ex
penditure required for their wages. This undoubted advantage,
however, we discovered to be offset by certain disadvantages.
(1) The same stimulus which induces improvement in the arts
of production, induces improvement in the arts of adulteration,
substitution and misrepresentation. (2) The practice of throw
ing men out of employment through the introduction of ma
chinery, leaving them without employment for varying periods,
and re-employing them under conditions no more advantageous
as to hours of labor than before, prevents the improvement in
the economy of consumption which ought to accompany im
provement in the economy of production, besides leading to over
production, crises, and chaos. Pantocracy, on the other hand,
retains all the advantages of competition, replacing the effective
stimulus of profit by the no less effective stimulus of conditional
compensation, at the same time eliminating its disadvantages
by taking away temptation to adulteration, substitution, and
misrepresentation, and utilizing machinery, not to deprive men
of employment, but to save them labor, not to discharge them
into a condition of non-production, but to permit them to dis
charge themselves from understimulated into overstimulated
industries whenever the activities of industry require it, at the
same time providing a channel whereby the change may be
made quickly, easily, and conformably to the taste of the pro-

478 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BOOK III

ducer. Under capitalism a decrease in the operating force of
an industry where a decrease is called for, is accomplished by
the wretchedly uneconomic policy of forcing one set of work
men into a non-producing and underconsuming condition and
throwing all the labor upon the remainder. Instead of this
foolish policy, pantocracy divides the labor among all the work
men and permits the resulting decrease of wages to cause the
surplus labor power to flow spontaneously to industries where an
increase of operating force is called for. Moreover by fixed and
uniform rules the hours of labor are reduced as the reduction
in the producing time of commodities permits, and by the device
embodied in the industrial coefficient the price of commodities
is lowered without the discharge of a single wage-earner; pro
ducer and consumer thus sharing immediately in the benefit
arising from improvement in the arts — and as the industrial
coefficient, which determines in what ratio they shall share in
s:iid benefit, is fixed by the people themselves, no cause of com
plaint ^ can arise from this source. Hence economy of con
sumption increases simultaneously with economy of production,
and as demand and supply are adjusted by the department of
output regulation, overproduction, or underconsumption, and
consequently crises, cannot occur.

If it be objected that conditional compensation can never be
so effective a stimulus as profit, since profit is so much greater
in amount, we may reply that the degree of stimulus does not
depend upon absolute, but upon relative increase of compensa
tion. To a director whose salary is $5,000 per year, an increase
of $1,000 a year for every per cent by which the average pro
ducing time of commodities is reduced, is as effective as an in
crease in dividends of $1,000,000 a year would be to a capitalist
whose dividends were already $5,000,000. These enormous
profits are rare; they practically always go to men who have
little or nothing to do with the actual work of production, or
even of organization; and they are generally the reward' of
ingenious or dishonest speculation rather than' of any improve
ment in the arts. To permit these vast sums to be withdrawn
from the compensation of the wage earners would defeat the
ends of justice. No such withdrawals are required, and the
profits which Mill and other economists have had in mind as
effective stimulants are of no such dimensions. It is probable
that conditional compensation, amounting in all to not more
than ^ one per cent on the capital invested in an industry, would
provide more stimulus to improvement in the arts than the

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCRACY

479

present profits — varying from nothing or less than nothing to
three hundred per cent on the investment. There is much dis
cussion as to what a " fair rate " of profit is — a fair rate
according to the dogmatic standard is, of course, a customary
rate. The doctrine of utility enables us to comprehend this
matter more clearly. The lowest rate of conditional compensa
tion which will keenly stimulate directors to reduce the pro
ducing time of commodities by substituting machinery for men
is a fair rate — any lower rate is unfair because it will sensibly
diminish the rate of improvement in the arts which society has
a right to expect — any higher rate is unfair because it will
produce inequality of distribution in wealth without any com
pensating advantage.

Besides the stimulus to improvement in the arts and organiza
tion of industry provided by conditional compensation, pan-
tocracy increases many times the efficiency of the means of
accomplishing such improvements by the organization of inven
tion, and technical education. Thus the one advantage of com
petition over socialism (and that a temporary one) is by pan-
tocracy, adopted, augmented, purified from its accompanying
disadvantages, and made permanent, by the application of the
ordinary methods of science in technology.

One of the greatest gains in the mechanism of production
which would be accomplished by the conversion of all socialized
industries into public monopolies would be the co-ordination of
effort effected. The lack of such co-ordination is the cause of
the vast waste of labor under competition. The partial organi
zation of industry under private monopoly has done something
toward abolishing this source of productive inefficiency. The
complete organization of industry under public monopoly would
do very much more. The present work of the world could thus
be accomplished in less than half the time now required, and
under a pantocratic system this saving of labor could be re
flected directly in a corresponding shortening of the working
day. To appreciate the possibilities from this source of im
provement in the machinery of production, the twenty-second
chapter of Edward Bellamy's "Looking Backward" should be
read.

Fifth : By its effect upon the interests of all classes of laborers,
pantocracy would not only make more effective the handling
of the methods of production, but it would solve the labor
problem ; for the interests of the laborer and of the director of
labor would be identical. The only way in which the directors

480 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [Boon III

could acquire additional compensation would be to shorten the
hours of labor, while leaving nominal wages stationary; and to
shorten the hours of labor means, by the principle we have enun
ciated, to lower the price of commodities ; this taking place in all
industries means raising the real wages of every one in the com
munity. Hence the interests of director, wage-earner, and
consumer being identical, the cause which has given rise to the
labor problem would no longer exist. Lock-outs could not
occur, for it would be in no one's power to discharge wage-earn
ers without charges of wilful incompetence. Strikes would not
occur, for against whom would an operating force strike ? They
would have to strike against a nation the industrial relations
of which were in every part identical — they could not strike
for lower hours, for they already work the minimum necessary
to supply the demand — nor for higher wages, since these are
fixed by law according to definite principles, and not by the
caprice of an employer. The general rate of wages of an in
dustry would be raised only as that industry became under-
supplied — hence dissatisfaction with the wages in a given in
dustry would automatically raise the wages therein, since the
wage earners would prefer other industries, and thus induce a
condition of undersupply. The transactions of all industries
would be a matter of public record, there would be no secrecy
as at present, there would be no profits eating up the wages of
labor, and the principles governing the relation of wage earners
to their employer — the nation — would be the same in all
industries. Under such circumstances the unanimous verdict
of public opinion would alone prevent strikes, assuming any
set of men ingenious enough to imagine a cause for them, and
even should a strike occur, it would be immediately broken
unless the whole nation struck against itself, since striking
would be voluntary discharge, and would be treated like any
other case thereof — the wage earners required would be ob
tained through the labor exchange.

TJie limitation of production would be against the interest of
both director and wage earner, lowering the conditional com
pensation of the first, and lengthening the hours of labor of the
second — this would be enough to prevent it. It would be to
the interest of every man to work with zeal and enthusiasm,
since the more efficiently he worked when he did work, the
shorter would his hours be. For the same reason it would be to
the interest of all to get the best men into places of responsi
bility. Similarly wage earner and director alike would be in-

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCRACY 481

terested in handling the materials of production economically,
and of minimizing the deterioration of plant, since every ex
pense would, by raising the price of the commodity produced,
tend to the understimulation of the industry and the consequent
fall of wages. Thus as a means of increasing the efficiency of
production through stimulus of skill and interest in the use
of machinery, pantocracy is immeasurably superior to com
petition.

Applying now the auxiliary criterion of the adaptive prin
ciple another marked advantage is disclosed. Under capitalism,
public utilities are placed in the control of persons whose inter
ests are exactly opposed to those of the public. The great multi
tude are, and must always be, both producers and consumers.
As producers it is to their interest to have their working day
shortened, and their real wages increased. As consumers it
is to their interest to have prices fall, and to obtain the best
products possible for the price paid. The interests of capi
talists are exactly the reverse. It is to their interest to lengthen
the working day of their employees and to reduce their wages
— it is to their interest to obtain the highest prices they can
from all consumers, and to give them the poorest products
possible for the price paid — for by all these means their profit
will be increased. Under such conditions it is to be expected
that capitalists will be forever oppressing both producer and
consumer, and the expectation is not disappointed, for this is
precisely what they do and always will do while human nature
remains what it is. A community so stupid as to make the
interests of those who control the desiderata upon which it
depends for its happiness diametrically opposed to its own must
expect to be oppressed — it puts a premium upon oppression,
and it cannot escape the consequences of the law of human
nature which it has invoked. It utilizes the adaptive principle
to oppose, instead of to achieve, the end of utility. After pro
duction has become thoroughly socialized, society at last per
ceives its mistake — it sees that vested interests and public
interests are antagonistic and clumsily attempts to remedy mat
ters — not by abolishing the antagonism directly — but by at
tempting to nullify the effect of the positive adaptive principle
already in operation, by superimposing upon it the effect of the
negative adaptive principle. It first makes it to the interest
of capitalists to oppress both producer and consumer; and then
threatens to punish them if they do so. This is regulated
capitalism — it is the pseudo-socialism which the dominant
31

482 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAET II [BOOK III

school of politicians propose as a remedy for existing evils.
On ^ the other hand, pantocracy abolishes the primary antagonism
of interest, and substitutes for it an identity, using the positive
adaptive principle to attain the end of utility, thereby adapting
the social mechanism to human nature instead of leaving it
hopelessly unadapted, as at present.

Sixth : As to the distribution of wealth — pantocracy pro
vides for substantial equality by doing away with the chief
means provided by the capitalistic, and every other variety of
competition, whereby inequality is attained. It will be noticed,
however, that pantocracy does not seek absolute equality in the
distribution of wealth. Successful directors, that is, directors
who have been instrumental in permanently decreasing the
hours of labor and increasing the real wages of a community,
for example, could accumulate considerable fortunes through
the conditional compensation received for their service to the
community. They could not become multi-millionaires, but
their fortunes might become from 10 to 100 times as great as
that of the average member of the community. Besides this,
pantocracy provides for higher wages for skilled and experienced
workers than for unskilled and inexperienced. This perhaps
may be deemed a fault in the system, and were it devoid of
compensating advantages, such a departure from equality would
be a fault in any system. But the equal distribution of wealth
is a means — not an end, and if, as a means, it does not attain
the end of utility as successfully as some other specifiable means,
then it should be abandoned in favor of that other means.
The proposition that wealth should be equally distributed is
true as a general, but not as a universal, proposition. This is
why in constructing the pantocratic mechanism, I have departed,
in some degree, from means of completely equalizing wealth.
It is important to efficiency of production that skilled workmen
should be developed to fulfil certain productive functions. The
acquisition of skill, however, requires time and trouble. Hence
unless there is some incentive to do so, men will not take the
trouble and time required to develop it. The higher price of
skilled labor under pantocracy therefore, is simply compensation
for the hours of labor — that is of life — spent in developing
the skill required to make men of more service to the commu
nity; and the inequality of wage involved is required by the
general, though not universal, rule that the compensation for
any given quantum of labor should be proportional to its labor
cost. Reasons of a similar kind justify the inequality of wealtl

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCKACY

483

involved in the institution of conditional compensation. By
the stimulus it affords to improvement in the arts the 'com
munity will gain in happiness far more than it will lose through
the departure from equality involved; and this is sufficient for
the utilitarian. Knowing what end he seeks, he can adapt his
means to attain it, unconfounded by confusion of a proximate
with an ultimate end.

Seventh : The means adopted by pantocracy of progressively-
increasing the indicative ratio as the arts improve have already
been explained and their effect on this element of happiness is
obvious. The theory of utility demands an increasing indica
tive ratio, and pantocracy provides definite means for supplying
it. The effect of increasing the hours of leisure and at the
same time increasing the real wages of all producers by the fall
in the price of desiderata is to bring the whole population
into the condition of an emancipated middle class, and this
condition is that at which consumption at the point of maximum
efficiency will occur. There would, under such circumstances,
be no consumers in the zone of either under or overconsump-
tion ; each average family would be self-sufficient, and the whole
population self-supporting. Once this emancipated condition is
obtained, however, it is probable that the actual indicative ratio
would spontaneously diminish, because for the first time men
would be brought into the condition where they would have not
only the taste for pleasant forms of labor, but the education
and freedom from unpleasant forms necessary to gratify it.
Hence art, literature, music, and science, would be pursued, not
by the few, but by the many. Not by one per cent, but by
ninety-nine per cent of the population. As the necessity for
consuming life in systematic and unpleasant labor in the " useful
arts " diminished by the substitution of machinery for men,
opportunity for consuming it in pleasant labor in the fine arts
and the pursuit of the humanities would increase. Thus tho
avocation, instead of the vocation, would occupy the principal
place in the life of each individual, spontaneous would replace
compulsory labor, and the inversion of the indicative ratio would
indicate a gain, instead of a loss, in the economy of happiness.
Such at any rate would be the presumable result of the com
bined industrial and educative systems involved in pantocracy.
In vivid contrast to this common sense procedure consider
that of capitalism. Instead of using labor-saving devices to
increase the leisure of the producer and thus emancipate man
kind from labor, it seeks to make the indicative ratio a function

484 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS -PAET II [Boos III

of endurance only, and to make men work as long as they did
when their labor was not nearly so productive. Even for the
shortening of the working day already obtained labor has had
to struggle mightily, and were it not for the activity of labor
unions, men would now be working twelve and fourteen hours a
day — as they still do where competition is unrestricted. Mill,
in his Principles of Political Economy says: "It is question
able if all the mechanical inventions yet made have lightened the
day's toil of any human being/' Such a statement is not true
to-day — thanks to the activity of competition suppressing
agencies — but what a commentary it is on the practomania of
the capitalistic age. With the vast strides in industry of the
last century or two the productive power of the American
laborer is to-day, on the average, probably a hundred times
greater than in colonial times — and yet his working day is
only a little shorter. Of course it would be unwise to reduce
the working day in the same proportion as the producing time
is diminished — this would prevent increase in the per capita
rate of consumption — but surely when the producing time has
been diminished a hundred fold the working day might be cut
down at least three-quarters, and yet provide for a vast increase
in the rate of consumption per capita. Had this been done in
the past, the laborer of to-day would not require to work more
than four hours per day at the utmost, and yet live twenty
times as well as his forefathers of pre-re volution ary days. Thus
does capitalism throw away the great opportunity offered bv
socialized production.

Eighth: In considering the effect that the adoption of a
system of pantocracy would have upon the eighth element of
happiness — the quantity of the population, its contrast to com
petition is marked. Competition insures perpetual poverty
restricts the prudential restraint upon propagation to the suc
cessful classes, and thus limits population only by starvation,
deteriorating the race and wasting the resources of nature by
making them support an unhappy population. The extinction
of the human race would thus achieve a better object than com
petition.

We have made the claim that the adoption of a pantocratic
system would lead to the abolition of poverty and have given
reasons in support of that claim, but whether 'this claim is lust
or not, it is certainly not too much to say that if pantocracv
will not cure poverty then nothing will. Poverty is simply
a name for a low rate of consumption per capita. If it is to

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCEACY

485

be cured at all it must be by adopting such means that (1)
The production per capita per unit of time will be made to
approach as near as possible to a maximum, and that (2) The
wealth thus produced shall be well distributed.

If focussing all the power represented in the stimulus of en
lightened self-interest, and all the knowledge and ingenuity
furnished by organized scientific research and co-operative in
vention upon this single object cannot accomplish the result,
then by what means can it be accomplished? Certainly not by
letting everything alone. Drifting can not cure poverty. If
it could, it would have done so long ago, for mankind since its
first advent on the earth, has done little else than drift. If
through the operation of the law of increasing returns the ten
dency to increase the production per capita per unit of time
can be made to offset the tendency of the law of diminishing
returns to decrease it, then poverty can be cured. Otherwise
it cannot be cured. Now, pantocracy stimulates the operation
of the law of increasing returns in a degree impossible under
any other system. Its whole construction is deliberately de
signed to stimulate it. Hence we say if pantocracy, or some
variation of it embodying the same principles, cannot cure pov
erty then no system can. Pantocracy is primarily a means of
applying science to the cure of poverty as the most pressing
and universal ill of mankind, and as Lubbock says in this con
nection, " we must choose between science and suffering/'
There is no other alternative.

But once poverty is cured — and enlightenment substituted
for ignorance by the diversion of human effort from the dissi
pation of natural resources to the development of man, conse
quences of transcendent import inevitably follow. The causes
which now operate to restrict propagation in the well-to-do
classes will operate to restrict it in all classes, since all classes
will be well-to-do — the Law of Malthus will be suspended and
deterioration of the breed checked in the manner noticed under
section one. The eighth element of happiness can only be con
trolled by increasing the efficiency of consumption, and if un
controlled, the population will increase until it readies a position
of natural equilibrium. At this point its rate of production of
misery approaches a maximum.

A pantocratic system will, of course, have the effect of dimin
ishing the resources of nature — any policy other than the ex
tinction of humanity must have that effect; but in the dissipa
tion thereof, and as a result of it, happiness will be produced

486 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT II [BOOK III

instead of unhappiness, as under competition. There will be
something instead of less than nothing to show for the resources
dissipated. Instead of utilizing the increased means of sub
sistence derived from improvement in the arts to increase the
mere numbers of an imderconsuming population, pantocracy
would utilize thorn to increase the consumption per capita, until
the average member of the community was consuming at the
point of maximum efficiency, or as near that point as possible.
Thenceforth, increase in the population instead of being checked
by starvation would be controlled by the prudence of the eman
cipated community itself, and maintained at such a rate as to
keep the average member of the community consuming at the
point of maximum efficiency. Thus the production-madness,
inseparable from capitalism, which wastes alike the lives of the
present generation and the substance of their posterity, would
be replaced by the sanity of common sense. Labor would be
recognized for what it is — a means to an end, and not an end
in itself — and the end to which labor is, or ought to be, the
means would be recognized no less specifically. That end is
not to develop and diminish nature's resources with maximum
speed, but to convert the potentiality of happiness resident in
said resources into actual happiness with maximum efficiency.
These two contrasted views of the object of labor represent the
difference between the ideals of the commercial and of the utili
tarian schools of political economy — they represent the differ
ence between practomania and common sense.

Thus if we test pantocracy by the same criteria whereby we
tested competition, viz., its effect upon each of the elements of
happiness separately, we discover that the former stands every
test while the latter stands none. Between them is all the dif
ference between justice and injustice. Pantocracy is an adapted,
competition an unadapted, means of attaining the end of utility,
and a moment's consideration will serve to banish all surprise
at^this result. Both competition and pantocracy are neither
more nor less than social mechanisms, to be deliberately em
ployed by society to attain its end — viz. happiness. Compe
tition is a mechanism which, speaking figuratively, nature em
ploys to attain her end — adaptability to survive — an object
which has no particular relation to the object of society, except
that survival is a necessary element in both. Now no one pos
sessing common sense would expect a mechanism designed to
produce one specified result to be adapted incidentally to pro
duce another one totally different from the first. No one would

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCRACY 487

expect a nail making mechanism to be adapted to the manu
facture of washing soda. No more would any one with com
mon sense expect a mechanism designed to attain the end of
nature to be adapted to attain the end of man — and it is not
so adapted,, as the tests we have applied demonstrate. Pantoc
racy, on the other hand, is a mechanism deliberately designed to
produce that end, designed by the same methods of common
sense that would be employed in designing a mechanism for the
manufacture of nails or of washing soda. Hence it is only to
be expected that it will be successful in meeting the very tests
which have served as a guide to its construction. But while
we should have reason to expect pantocracy to be a system
adapted to attain the end of society — it would be a great mis
take to suppose it to be the only one, though doubtless it em
bodies the essential elements of any successful system. There
is more than one system for making sulphuric acid, though all
systems require the presence of the elements essential to that
acid, viz., hydrogen, oxygen, and sulphur. Other political sys
tems differing in many details from pantocracy might be pro
posed, and were pantocracy once adopted the details of its opera
tion might turn out to be quite distinct from those I have sug
gested or might suggest. Hence 1 have not attempted to specify
details, except so far as was necessary to demonstrate that the
system is practical and will operate in a definite manner while
the properties of nature and of human nature remain what
they are. There are several forms of mechanism whereby the
energy latent in steam may be converted into mechanical mo
tion, but all of them must^take advantage of the properties of
steam; and though several forms of mechanism may be pro
posed for converting the world's latent potentialities of happi
ness into actual happiness, all of them must take advantage of
the properties of nature and of human nature in order to achieve
success, and every social mechanism should be judged --just
as a steam engine should be judged — strictly according to
its adaptability to attain its end.

Once more "let me emphasize the dilemma in which society
finds itself to-day. It finds that its activities are not self-sup
porting; that more unhappiness than happiness is produced
by humanity ; that the present system is a failure while human
nature retains its properties. In this situation three alterna
tives and only three are open. (1) Human nature may be
changed. (2) The system may be changed. (3) Both may
be changed. There is a prevalent school of moralists, of whom

488 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BOOK III

Tolstoy is the type, who seek the first way out of the dilemma.
They claim that the trouble with the present situation is that
men themselves are at fault — that human nature must be
altered before society can produce a surplus of happiness, and
they propose to change human nature by telling it to change,
they are correct, the situation is indeed hopeless. The
method of changing human nature they propose is not adapted
to its end. Preaching will do no more in the future than it
has done in the past. Human nature has not changed much
during historic times, though its customs have, and if it is to
be radically changed, changes will be necessary in that part of
the social system which affects inheritance and education, for
it is by these influences and these alone that human nature can
be changed. But to adopt such changes would be to select the
third way out of the dilemma, since it would be changing
human nature by first changing the social system. It is obvious
that it is by this route that pantocracy seeks a way out of the
present unhappy situation. The reaction of the present system
upon human nature results in misery. To change human na
ture is hopeless — at least immediately — hence our only alter
native, if we would escape misery, is to change the system — and
it is by a change in the social system that every advance in the
past has been made. The changes from religious intolerance to
religious tolerance, from slavery to free labor, from aristocracy
to democracy, have all been changes in the social system which
have left human nature intact, merely changing its customs.
Selfishness remains the dominant characteristic of organic be
ings, and it cannot be ignored in man. Pantocracy recognizes
this, and instead of employing the great power of self interest
to defeat the end of utility, as competition does, it employs it to
accomplish that end. It seeks not to destroy selfishness by tell
ing men to be good — that would be futile, but to divert it from
competitive into anti-competitive channels. What good does
it do to tell men to be good and they will be happy ? Does any
one ^seriously believe that propounding this platitude will make
men good? No, the proper way is to make them happy, and
then they will be good. Although to abolish self-interest is im
possible, to change its mode of application to the social mechan
ism is not. Should we attach a dozen horses to a mired vehicle,
and then let each pull in the direction in which he felt inclined,'
we should not accomplish much, but with precisely the same
power we could pull the load out of the mire by making the horsea
all pull in one direction. In such a situation co-operation will

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCRACY 489

accomplish what competition will not, and in hauling society
out of the slough in which it is gradually sinking the same
methods must be employed. To produce happiness, co-opera
tion is required — not the mere co-operation of good-will, but
organized co-operation, amounting to a change in the social sys
tem. A convenient form of that organization I have already
explained, and to the provisions therein for accomplishing the
change desirable in human nature I need not again revert.

It is a common claim that socialism cannot succeed because
it is unadapted to human nature. Such a criticism applies with
greater force to competition than to socialism. It is because
competition as a means to happiness is so utterly unadapted to
human nature that it is, and always has been, a failure. The
only reason why the failure of competition is not more gen
erally recognized is that men, having no test by which to dis
tinguish success from failure, cannot tell the difference between
the two even when they see it. Not knowing what society is,
or ought to be, endeavoring to accomplish, they, of course, are
unable to tell whether it is accomplished or not. Hence they
mistake mere human activity, the movement of persons and
things from one place to another on the earth's surface, for suc
cess. They gauge success by the activity of industry — by the
mere motion of material bodies. They are in precisely the
position of one who, entering a factory of the purpose of which
he is ignorant, mistakes the motion of the countershattmg
the production of output. He cannot tell whether or not the
factory is accomplishing its purpose, because he does not know
what its purpose is. It is futile for men to attempt the guidance
of public policy who are ignorant of the direction in which
public policy should lead. The output of a nation in bushels
of grain, tons of pig iron, or coal, or steel rails, can tell us itt
or nothing about a nation's success, since, though these prod,
may be necessary, they are not sufficient, conditions of happiness.
And yet it is of such products that politicians perpetually prate.
In this connection the commentary of Mill upon the > fo^y of
the mercantilists, who confused money with wealth, is peculiarly
appropriate. He says:

a

490 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS— PAKT II [ BOOK III

money is synonymous with wealth. The conceit seems too pre
posterous to be thought of as a serious opinion. It looks like one
of the crude fancies of childhood, instantly corrected by a word
from any grown person. But let no one feel confident that he
would have escaped the delusion if he had lived at the time
when it prevailed. All the associations engendered by common
life, and by the ordinary course of business, concurred in promot
ing it. So long as those associations were the only medium
through which the subject was looked at, what we now think so
gross an absurdity seemed a truism. Once questioned, indeed, it
was doomed; but no one was likely to think of questioning it
whose mind had not become familiar with certain modes of stat
ing and of contemplating economical phenomena, which have
only found their way into the general understanding through the
influence of Adam Smith and of his expositors." 1

Oh, ingenuous Mill — do you remember what the pot called
the kettle ? In this quotation, if the word " wealth " is sub
stituted for the word " money " and the word " happiness " for
the word "wealth," we shall have a commentary whose striking
application to the present system is incapable of happier ex
pression. Is it any more absurd to mistake money for wealth
than to mistake wealth for happiness? Incredible as to a sub
sequent age it will appear, those who guide the policy of modern
states make this very mistake, apparently unconscious that they
are but mercantilists who have changed the form of their folly.
It was not surprising that after the adoption of a system of
exchange by means of money that the medium of exchange
should, by the worthy predecessors of modern economists, be
mistaken for something having ultimate intrinsic value, and it
was perhaps inevitable that between this vulgar error and the
explicit recognition of happiness as alone possessing such a
quality, an intermediate delusion should be cherished — the
delusion that wealth has ultimate intrinsic value. Since the
laws of the evolution of human thought required this step Adam
Smith did the world a service in taking it, but it is calamitous
that men thus deluded should be selected to guide the policy of
nations, particularly as " all the associations engendered by
common life, and by the ordinary course of business" concur
in rendering them as blissfully oblivious of their preposterous
situation as were the mercantile theorists of theirs. To be sure,
happiness is recognized to-day as an incidental desideratum, as
wealth was similarly recognized previous to the publication of

i Political Economy, Chap. 1.

CHAP. XIII] PANTOCRACY 491

the " Wealth of Nations," but incidental recognition will not
do in the one case any more than in the other. Happiness must
be recognized explicitly, as a definite product of the activity of
society, expressible in definite units — a product having at any
given time a definite magnitude, expressible by a definite in
tensity into a definite time interval, and increasable only by in
crease of that intensity or that time interval, or both — a prod
uct requiring cultivation by organized and directed effort —
effort as organized and directed as that of a shoemaker in turn
ing out his shoes. We cannot too often insist that the only
units in which the success or failure of society may be estimated
are such as express quantity of happiness or unhappiness, and
until we have determined the relation that wealth bears to hap
piness, the output of wealth can give us no more clue to the
output of happiness than the weight of precious metal possessed
by a state can give to its wealth. Could the people of our day
and country learn this one lesson it would be worth all their
other political knowledge combined, and they will learn it when
common sense displaces common nonsense.

It is the duty, and it should be the delight, of the economists
of our time to purge their science of the archaic dogmas of
Adam Smith, and to found it directly upon the foundation of
ethics itself — namely, utility — the only sound foundation for
any applied science. In so doing they will have accomplished for
economics what Copernicus accomplished for astronomy -
will have replaced the geocentric system of commercialism wit]
the heliocentric system of utilitarianism — they will have fixed
the centre around which revolves the stupendous system of hu
man effort and human interest — not in the dead world
wealth, but in the living sun of happiness.

CHAPTER XIV

THE NEXT STEP

To any proposal for substituting an uncustomary for a cus
tomary policy in the affairs of society the first objection, of
course, will proceed from the ever prevailing conservatism of
mankind — that ubiquitous form of fatalism which confounds
inaction with prudence through misapprehension of the nature
of a use-judgment. Assuming the law of causation, it is obvious
that if with any given act of a man or a nation the same natural
causes are combined, the effect of the given act will always be
the same; and we may assume that if the man or the nation is
careful not to alter his or its acts, then he or it may be assured
that the effects thereof will, at any rate, not be worse in the
future than they have been in the past. If the same natural
causes are always combined with the same modes of human
activity then conservatism may be caution. The difficulty is
that they are not. By suspending change in their modes of
activity men do not suspend change in the modes of activity
of nature. The inaction of men does not involve the inac
tion of nature, and it must not be forgotten that human nature
is a part of nature, and as subject to the law of causation
as any other part. The alleged attempt of the ostrich to
escape danger by hiding its head in the sand is a mental opera
tion similar to the one we are criticizing. The ostrich appar
ently thinks that by suspending its own visual powers the visual
powers of all creation will thereby be suspended, and similarly
the conservative thinks that by suspending his own activity he
will thereby suspend the activities of the rest of creation. His
caution is that of the ostrich. Nature's policies are usually
accelerative and, as we have seen, they are usually maleficently
accelerative. Hence man can counteract such acceleration only
by changing his policies to meet it. He must be radical in
order to be cautious. Such caution is by the incautious con
servative deemed incaution, and he consistently protests against
it. If these protests prevail and radical action is postponed
too long, calamity frequently follows, and this the conservative

492

CHAP. XIV] THE NEXT STEP 493

attributes to radicalism instead of to its real cause — conserva
tism. Thus Archbishop Whately justly remarks:

"The mass of mankind are, in the serious concerns of life,
wedded to what is established and customary; and when they make
rash changes, this may often be explained by the too Jong post
ponement of the requisite changes; which allows (as in the case
of the Reformation) evils to reach an intolerable height, before
any remedy is thought of. And even then, the remedy is often
so violently resisted by many, as to drive others into dangerous
extremes. And when this occurs, we are triumphantly told that
experience shows what mischievous excesses are caused by once
beginning to innovate. ' I told you that if once you began to
repair your house, you would have to pull it all down.' 'Yes;
but you told me wrong; for if I had begun sooner, the replacing
of a few tiles might have sufficed. The mischief was, not in J-~u
ing down the first stone, but in letting it stand too long.' " x

tak-

Revolutions are the result of conservatism. The English
Kevolution was caused by the conservatism of the House of
Stuart, the American Revolution by the conservatism of the
House of Hanover, and the French Revolution by the conserva
tism of the Bourbons. The way to avoid revolution is through
radicalism; but although cautious policies are almost always
radical, radical policies are not necessarily cautious. Obviously
it is easy to suggest thousands of harmful radical policies.
Now in the preceding chapter I have outlined a national policy,
adoptable by any state which has attained a condition of civili
zation equivalent to that of Western Europe. So far as 1 am
aware, only four general policies are proposed as alternatives.
(1) Natural competition: (2) Artificial competition: (3)
Pseudo-socialism: (4) Socialism: and the first is hardly a possi
ble alternative in the United States at the present stage of its
development. Pantocracy is more radical than any of these; that
is, it departs more from prevailing policies. To the man whose
judgment has no taint of fatalism, however, this will make no
difference. All he will ask is: Is it or is it not, more useful
than any of its alternatives? Is its end that of utility, and is
it or is it not, better adapted than other suggested policies to
that end ? I have attempted, by noting its effect upon each of
the elements of happiness, to show that it is. Were politics
judged by the standards employed in science it would be difficult
to doubt^ that the attempt had been successful; but with the

1 Elements of Logic.

494 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT II [Boon III

political standards at present prevailing there is a wide chasm
between the establishment of a reasonable presumption and
the production of conviction, since wherever dogma prevails,
conviction is not a function of reasonableness but of priority,
and the suspension of this law of human cerebration is not to
be expected in one department of knowledge more than in an
other. It has beset the early stages of every science from mathe
matics to medicine, and politics will be no exception to these.

It must, of course, be admitted that the only presumption thus
far established in favor of the policy proposed is an apriori
one, and presumptions established apriori should not be depended
upon when aposteriori evidence is obtainable. The question
is then, can aposteriori evidence of the operation of a pantocratic
system of the character desired be obtained, and if so, how?
To answer this question we have but to mark the procedure
followed in those arts where the method of common sense already
prevails — where science has already been applied. Suppose,
for example, a cautious cotton manufacturer should have sub
mitted to his attention the design of a mechanism which prom
ised apriori to be an improvement upon the prevailing method
of cotton manufacturing. What would he do? Would he re
ject the scheme at once on the ground that it was not a cus
tomary mechanism and therefore useless? No; he might pursue
such a policy if he were merely a conservative manufacturer,
but not if he were a cautious one. Would he, on the other hand,
immediately dismantle his whole plant and re-erect it equipped
throughout with machinery identical with that called for in
the design submitted to him? No; a cautious man would not
pursue this policy unless the apriori evidence of success was
overwhelming. He would do what every experienced manufac
turer, whether of cotton or anything else, would do — he would
try it on a small scale, approximating as closely as possible the
conditions to be met on a large scale. That 'is, he would ex
periment, and from the aposteriori evidence thus furnished
would judge of the wisdom of installing the proposed mechanism
on a large scale. This simple and safe procedure is the one
adopted in all branches of applied technology, and it should
be adopted in politics.

In proceeding toward any given goal we must proceed by
steps, but it is important that the steps should be in the direction
of the goal. ^ At any given stage of progress there is always a
next step which will lead more directly in the desired direction
than anv other, and if common sense is taken as our guide, we

CHAP. XIV] THE NEXT STEP 495

may usually distinguish it. The next step in any progression
is always the most important step at the moment it is to be
taken, for if we make no mistake in each successive step as we
are called upon to take it, we need not worry about the sum of
the steps. Now we have ascertained what the goal of society
ought to be — the maximum output of happiness — we have
examined the several proposed routes whereby modern states,
proceeding from the stage they have already attained, may seek
that goal. They are: through competition, natural or arti
ficial' through pseudo-socialism: through socialism: through
pantocracy. We have submitted strong evidence to show that
of these routes, competition leads away from the goal, that
pseudo-socialism either leads to private monopoly, a route which
everyone acknowledges leads away from the goal, or into social
ism : that socialism leads toward the goal, but that pantocracy
leads more directly to the goal than any of its alternatives.
This much being ascertained the next step becomes clear -
apriori evidence here submitted should be supplemented by
apostenori evidence. Pantocracy should be tried on a small
scale, the conditions of operation on a large scale being approxi
mated as closely as possible. In each of the several states which
hivp reached the stao-e where this step is the next one to be
"ken Te p ecise mode of taking it would have to be adapted
o the conditions there prevailing. I *-U not attem^ the dis
cussion of these conditions in any other state than that of the
United States of America, but the principles involved are <

elect to exponent with

irs s;±SA if

™ en relations wHh other nations; but should she attempt to

496 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [Boon III

apply the principles of utility directly to the questions of immi
gration and of free trade and protection — to the international
exchange of men and of commodities as it applies to America.

For the sake of clearness I shall first discuss these questions
as if they were questions of patriotism alone. I shall make a
provisional assumption that it is right to ignore the interests
of all nations except our own. Afterwards I shall show that
the policies proposed are those demanded by humanitarianism
as well as patriotism. And first it should be remarked that tho
present policy of America is inconsistent with itself as a result
of the dominance of capitalism. On the theory that the inter
ests of Americans should be protected the United States adopts
a policy of protection, protecting from foreign competition all
products produced here with one exception — labor. It is to
the interest of the capitalist to protect all products except labor
— hence it is the policy of the United States to do so. Thus
results the inconsistent policy of restricted trade in commodities
but free trade in labor. The product of labor must pay an
importation tariff, but immigration is free or practically so.
It is not to the purpose to object that protection of commodities
incidentally protects the labor that produces them. This is true,
but were it the purpose of those who control the trade policy of
the United States to protect labor they would do so by protect
ing it from immigration. It is not their purpose to do it and
hence it is not done. The restriction of Chinese immigration
is a sop thrown to the labor element which only serves to make
the inconsistency of the present policy the more glaring. Our
country is to-day as completely capitalist-ridden as India is
caste-ridden, or as mediaeval Europe was priest-ridden.

In Chapter 6 we have asserted that the most important prob
lems of any country are those of race, and we have given there
the reasons for so asserting. Hence the most important prob
lems before the American people to-day are the negro problem,
and the immigration problem, both of them involving the future
of the race. The negro problem has been forced upon the pres-
ent^ generation in America by the ignorance and selfishness of
their ancestors. The country drifted into it, and consistently
with the time honored theory of laissez faire, it is invited by
enlightened publicists and politicians to drift out of it again.
It is easier for a ship to drift on than off a lee shore, though
laissez faire navigators may claim that it will not always be so.
Perhaps they are right — at any rate they should receive the
support of their doctrinal brethren, the economists. When it

CHAP. XIV] THE NEXT STEP 497

becomes as easy to drift to windward as it is to drift to leeward,
then we shall drift out of the negro problem, but probably not
before. It is an evil that will not " cure itself." I shall not
attempt the discussion of the negro problem in this work. It
requires separate treatment and should the occasion arise 1 non
return to it. It may be remarked, however, that the policy of
drift which permitted the immigration of the negro is practically
the same to-day as it always has been. Whether it will give us
other race problems is a question I shall not discuss, but if it
does not it will not be to the credit of the nation's foresight.
Men are taught through dear bought experience, but apparently
dear bought experience cannot teach nations. It is bad enough
to have to pass through the experience, but it is worse
to learn nothing from it. Let us examine the immigration
problem as a problem in simple common sense and see if a
definite policy is not suggested by it.

The question of immigration, as it applies to the United
States, may most conveniently be discussed in two parts. (1)
The effect of immigration upon the quality of the population of
America. (2) The effect of immigration upon its quantity.

And first as to quality. There are two current delusions
which must be removed before this question can be intelligently
understood. The first is that a race can be improved by educa
tion. The second is that a blend of several races produces a
race superior to any of the elements of the blend. It has already
been shown in Chapter 6 that as acquired characters are not
inheritable the racial characteristics of immigrants cannot be
changed either for better or worse by education. Hence I need
not further consider the first delusion at this point. As to the
second delusion — for it is a delusion — it apparently arises
from the well-known fact that the repeated breeding together
of consanguineous individuals frequently — though not always
— results in deterioration, usually physical and sometimes men
tal. Opposed to this close-breeding or in-breeding, as it is
called, is cross-breeding, which results from the mating of indi
viduals far removed from consanguinity. Cross-breeding of
distinct varieties or races gives rise to mongrels or hybrids, and
among breeders periodic cross-breeding is often employed to pre
vent local deterioration from in-breeding. Now if the American
race were in any danger of deterioration from in-breeding ^ the
immigration of distinct races would be a good thing, but it is
in no such danger. Deterioration from in-breeding, whether
among animals or men is a local phenomenon — it only occurs
32

498 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS— PART II [Boox III

in small communities in which for many generations little or
no intermarriage with outside communities has taken place.
There are quite a number of such communities in New Eng
land where everyone is a cousin to everyone else, and in some
of them there are signs of sporadic deterioration. Where there
is no circulation of the population, in-breeding is a threatening
evil, but with the improved facilities of communication of our
day stagnant communities., already rare, will become rarer, and
were we as secure from other sources of race deterioration as
we are from this one we should have no cause for complaint.
If the United States with a population of 80,000,000 requires
immigration from other continents to save it from the ills of
in-breeding, then the world requires immigration from other
planets to save it from the same ills.

But besides being a means of preventing deterioration from
in-breeding, cross-breeding is utilized by breeders to improve
races, and those who do not know just how it is utilized to that
end may have acquired and spread the prevailing delusion that
to blend races necessarily improves them. Those familiar with
the facts, of course, know better. What cross-breeding does
accomplish is an increase of variability. Now the more varia
ble a species the more effectively can artificial selection be em
ployed in improving it; hence crossing is employed by breeders
to obtain the variations from which to select. If they obtain
the variations and then fail to make any selection they have
accomplished nothing whatever. In other words, cross-breeding
can only aid in the improvement of a race when it is combined
with selection — otherwise it is useless. Hence the blending
of races caused by immigration may produce a more variable
race, but it affords no more presumption of improvement than
of deterioration, because the only real instrument of race im
provement — selection — is not employed. If, as many quick
judging authors of our day assume, cross-bred or mongrel races
are the best — then half breeds should always be superior to
either of the races from which they spring. If this be so ex
cellent results should be obtained from crossing Chinese, Ne
groes and Malays with the Caucasian race, though observation
cannot be said to confirm such a claim.

The real facts about the cross-breeding of different races, so
far as they relate to the immigration problem, may be sum
marized thus: If two races of men or other organisms — a
superior race A and an inferior race B of practically equal
numbers are blended without selection the resulting race will

CHAP. XIV] THE NEXT STEP 499

probably, though not certainly, be intermediate between them
in characteristics. That a race superior to A or inferior to B
might be obtained by this means cannot be denied, since we are
ignorant of the causes of variation; but so far as I am aware
no specific case of either kind has been recorded. The chances
against it in any given case are very great. Whether the race
resulting from the cross of A and B would, as a race, be just
half way between them, would depend upon whether the two par
ent races were equally pre-potent. Unless we have information
about the relative pre-potence of the races, that is, their rela
tive power to transmit their characteristics, the assumption
that the mongrel race will be half way between the parent races
will be more probable than any other equally specific assump
tion, but that it will be superior to the inferior race and inferior
to the superior race we may safely assume. Of _ course, if the
races are unequal in number the mongrel race will tend to ap
proximate more closely in characteristics to the race which is
most numerous. The effect of crossing two races is well illus
trated in the breeding of mulattoes. As a race, mulattoes are
intermediate in color between the parent races, the white and
the black. The more white blood they have in them the whiter
they are, the more black blood the blacker they are, as a rule.
It would have been very surprising had the crossing of a white
and a black race produced a mongrel race blacker than the black
race or whiter than the white one. Now what is true of color
is in general true of all other characteristics of organisms, phys
ical and mental — they will tend, on the average, to be inter
mediate between those of the parents. This is not true of man
alone but of all organisms, and is thoroughly recognized by
biologists. As regards any given characteristic or aggregate
of characteristics in respect to which two races differ one race-
must be the superior of the other, since otherwise they woul
not differ. Now the chance of getting a race superior t
superior race from crossing two such races is the same as gett
a race whiter than the white race from crossing the white and
black races, i. e., it is very small indeed. The principle thus
expounded as holding true of a cross between two races is equally
applicable to crosses between more than two.

Having disposed of the current delusions on this subject we
may apply this organic law to the solution of the immigration
problem and if we care to make the comparison we shall find
tPhatw" have applied neither more nor less than the simple rule

500 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS— PAKT II [BooK III

of common sense which every farmer applies to the breeding
of his horses or corn or wheat.

There are certain qualities desirable in the American race
affectable by inheritance. The most essential are health, intelli
gence, altruism and will. They are qualities which every per
son would wish to inherit from his parents and transmit to his
offspring. Considering these qualities in the aggregate the
American race, as at present constituted, possesses them, on the
average, in a certain definite degree. Now, on the average, the
''mmigrants at present coming to our shores in such numbers
are, as regards this aggregate of qualities, either (1) .Superior
to the American race, (2) Just equal to it, or (3) Inferior to
it. There is no fourth alternative.

(1) If evidence that they are a superior race is adducible
then, on the score of quality, there can be no criticism of immi
gration; indeed, the more of it the better, and the sooner the
old race is replaced by the new, as is at present occurring, the
more fortunate it will be for the future of America and the
world. Such evidence, however, has never been adduced and
probably is not adducible. It is generally acknowledged that
the American race is one of unusual capacity; that so far as
intelligence and will is concerned at least, it takes high rank,
and if this be true the chance that the average of a random
immigration is its superior would not be great. Statistics on
this vital matter are entirely wanting, nor would those relat
ing to the pauperism or literacy of the immigrant class com
pared with the natives be of any service in forming a judg
ment. Acquired characters being uninheritable the chance of
generating a superior race from a community of paupers and
illiterates is as great as from a community of the rich and edu
cated. The characteristics observable in any man or aggregate
of men are due to inheritance and education combined, and
those due to education must first be eliminated before we may
ju<3ge of those due to inheritance. Hence to compare the
congenital or permanent qualities of two races we should com
pare representative aggregates thereof which have been sub
jected to the same amount and kind of education. Statistics
of crime, literacy, and capacity will then be of value, but not
otherwise; just as in comparing two kinds of seed-corn we
must compare them when sown in the same kind of soil and
subjected to the same influences of cultivation — otherwise we
shall not be comparing the permanently transmissible qualities
of the seed, but merely these qualities as temporarily modified

CHAP. XIV] THE NEXT STEP 501

by cultivation. It is only when one race is very much superior
to another that a marked discrepancy of education can
not disguise the fact. Individuals and communities of un
usual superiority are recognizable under any circumstances if
subjected to careful inspection, but such inspection of our pres
ent class of immigrants has not revealed any unmistakable
signs of superiority. We may then regard it as quite certain
that the immigrant class have not, by this means, been shown
to be the superiors of those at present inhabiting America.

(2) The probability that the two races are exact equals is
very remote indeed. It would be practically impossible that
any two races whatever should be identical with regard to any
qualities whatever. Hence this alternative need not be dis
cussed.

(3) The probability that our immigrants are, on the average,
the inferiors of the people at present inhabiting America is
considerable, and were it necessary, evidence tending to estab
lish such a presumption might be presented. It is not neces
sary, however — hence we need not stop to discuss it. Fail
ure to adduce reasons for believing the incoming races superior
to our own is sufficient to answer the question whose answer we
seek. Simple common sense is all that is required. When a
prudent farmer has a good and well proved variety of cattle,
he will not permit them to breed promiscuously with any that
may come along. The possibility that his breed might not be
deteriorated by such a blond would not be sufficient for him —
he would want a probability, and a very strong one, against de
terioration before he risked the permanent qualities of a breed
already well above the average. Now the qualities of men are
surely as important as those of cattle, and the prudence which
every farmer exercises with respect to his herds should at least
be equalled when the qualities of a human breed are in ques
tion. Is this asking too much of the intelligence and patri
otism of our law-givers? As Robert Hunter says of the ques
tion of immigration:

" It is a question of babies and birth-rates, and whatever de
cision is made regarding immigration, it is perforce a decision
concerning the kind of children that shall be born. The decision
for Congress to make consciously and deliberately is simply
whether or not it is better for the world that the children of native
parents should be born instead of the children of foreign parents.
The making of the decision cannot be avoided. It is made now,
although unconsciously, and it is a decision against the children

502 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT II [Boon III

of native parents. . . . This is the race-suicide, the annihila
tion of our native stock, which unlimited immigration forces
upon us, none the less powerfully because it is gradually and
stealthily done. The native stock of America, possessed of rare
advantages, freed by its own efforts from oppression and the mis
eries of oppression, might have peopled the United States with
the seventy millions which now inhabit it. It has not done so
for the reason that { we cannot welcome an indefinite number of
immigrants to our shores without forbidding the existence of an
indefinite number of children of native parents who might have
been born.'"1

The problem of the statesman, so far as it relates to the
establishment of an efficient race, is, indeed, practically that of
the farmer so far as it relates to the breeding of cattle or the
selection of seed ; but it is only in new countries like America
and Australia that the conditions are such as to leave him
much choice. It is in the power of the United States and Can
ada, for instance, to determine, in large measure, the character
of the population which shall people the area of North America,
and by becoming the ancestors of its future inhabitants, irrevo
cably determine the future character of the American race.
Although a factor totally ignored by political economists as
deserving no attention from those who control the policy of
nations, the factor of race is the most vital with which a na
tion has to deal — it is the factor which must finally determine
its destiny, for with an inferior population, an inefficient
breed, no nation can do otherwise than decay; and if its decay
involves the extinction of the race the sooner it decays the
better. Acquired characters not being inheritable the charac
teristics of the race which first occupies America will — unless
their fecundity becomes impaired — remain the characteristics
of the American race forever. It is this which makes the mat
ter so vital. Educational policies, financial policies, trade or
tariff policies, if found wanting, may be altered ; the ills which
mistakes in judgment on such issues involve may be remedied
by a change in policy; the evil is a temporary one only; but it
is totally different with the policy of immigration, for it is by
the control of immigration and by its intelligent restriction that
the character of the American race is to be determined, so far
as it is determinable at this stage in our history; and any mis
take in that policy now, can never be remedied by a change of
policy in the future. Whatever ills are involved are irremedi-
i" Poverty," pp. 313, 314.

CHAP. XIV] THE NEXT STEP 503

able ills — they are as permanent as the race itself. The pres
ent generation holds in its hands the fate of posterity, and by
the policy it adopts the happiness of posterity will be, in great
measure, determined. Never before in the history of the world
has the opportunity been offered any state to deliberately con
struct a race, and as all the present unoccupied land areas are
rapidly being populated it is probable that the opportunity
will never be offered again. The knowledge of what means to
adopt to attain the end, and the power to adopt those means are
both available at the present time, and they never before have
been available. Though in the past the power may have been
available, the knowledge was not. That has only been acquired
by relatively recent advances in the study of heredity. Nor
are the means to be employed such as would be repugnant to
the sentiment and customs of the community. The self-inter
est of a relatively few persons is opposed to their adoption.
The responsibility is not a light one, nor can it be discharged
by ignoring the evidence we have adduced or the presumptions
established thereby.

Having thus considered the probable effect of immigration
upon the quality of the American population, let us turn to the
effect upon its 'quantity. We have shown that if there is one
thing which nations need not fear it is a paucity of popula
tion. Without any outside aid, nature will rapidly remedy any
scarcity of population, if it needs remedying. The Law of
Malthus requires no aid to stimulate its operation, for prac
tically every community is increasing in numbers in a geo
metrical progression toward natural equilibrium. The diffi
culty is, not "how to increase the population, but how to keep
it from increasing, and it is an ominous one. Adam Smith
and his followers looked forward with dread to the condition
of society at the period when it should have attained the so-
called "stationary state "--the state of natural equilibrium;
but they could offer no remedy and no hope; since the cause
which perpetually impels society toward that state with ever
increasing acceleration, was deemed by them an unalterable law
of nature^ As already pointed out, that cause is competition,
resulting 'in industrial chaos, unequal distribution of wealth,
and the consequent over-propagation of the poorer classes; and
it is no more unalterable than the law of nature which decrees
that animals shall not wear clothes. Clothes are now worn by
men in defiance of that "law" and the law of competition can
be as successfully defied. Now immigration simply stimulates

504 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BOOK III

the operation of the Law of Malthus. The immigrants coming to
us are poor and ignorant and hence are very fast breedino- as
are all peoples in that condition. They crowd the cities, swamp
the labor market, lower the standard of living, and render hope
less the task of increasing the rate of consumption per capita.
To attempt taking the pressure of poverty off the population of
America while leaving the channels of immigration open would
simply cause an increased flow of population from foreign lands
where such pressure is higher; for the law of equilibrium of
populations in communication is similar to the law of equilib
rium of liquids in communication ; populations like liquids seek
a common level — the lowest they can find. Poverty is cer
tainly incurable with unrestricted immigration, and the con
tinuance of the present policy in America simply means that
within a century or two we shall be in the condition of India
and China — the simplest calculation proves it. (See p. 403 )
This brings us to the question of the international exchange

of commodities — the question of protection and free trade a

matter slight in consequence compared with that of immigration,
but essential to a clear comprehension of just how pantocracy
would operate if adopted as a national policy by the United
States.

It is certain that with free trade in commodities it could not
be made to operate any more successfully than with free trade
m men. With commodities freely admitted into the United
States from countries where pantocracy was not practised it is
doubtful if any great success in the extension of that beneficent
system would be possible. Perhaps this assertion may be deemed
a confession of weakness in the pantocratic system. The do°--
matic economist will be tempted to say : " If pantocracy cannot
hold its own with the present system in full and free competi
tion then it is the inferior of the present system, and is un
worthy of adoption." This is the typical attitude of those af
flicted with production-madness. It is a fact that, under the
conditions named, pantocracy probably could not hold its own
with capitalism in keeping down the money cost of commodities
though it would more than hold its own in keeping down their
labor cost. To make perfectly clear, even to a professional
economist, the mode by which free trade would interfere with
a pantocratic system, or any other system designed to increase
the economy of consumption, I shall discuss a specific case.

Suppose the pantocratic system had been applied to the pro
duction of a given commodity in the United States for a number

CHAP. XIV] THE NEXT STEP 505

of years and by the automatic operation of that system the
hours of labor of the operatives engaged in producing Tt had
been reduced to four a day, the price having fallen in proportion
Let us assume the average wage of the operatives to be $24 00
a week. Assuming free trade in that community the question
is — could an enterprising capitalist located let us say in Eu
rope or in China, produce said commodity at a lower monev
cost than the American factories, and thus successfully compete
with them. It is, of course, true that the national system of
promoting invention under pantocracy would result in a much
more perfect system of labor-saving machinery than any capi
talist, by his unaided efforts, could develop. But to an enter
prising capitalist this would prove no obstacle. He would simplv
keep himself informed concerning the machinery and meth
ods ol production employed here. In his plants in Europe he
would duplicate said machinery and methods, and then employ
men at an average wage let us say of $12.00 a week, who would
work twelve hours a day instead of four; that is, he would pay
16f cents per hour for his labor instead of $1.00 as here, just
one-sixth as much. Free competition, of course, would permit
him to get this cheap labor without difficulty. To make three
men working four hours per day do work which one man working
twelve hours a day might do, is, to be sure, utterly repugnant to
the dogmatic economist ; he deems it an uneconomic proceeding.
He thinks in this way because he has production-madness. To
the utilitarian it appears quite economic, provided machinery
has been so developed that an average of four hours of labor a
day maintains a thoroughly self-supporting rate of consump
tion per capita. Any other policy would but lead to overpro
duction, and would be uneconomic however considered, because
the object of utility is not the economic production of wealth,
but the economic production of happiness. Production is for
purposes of consumption, not consumption for purposes of
production. It is uneconomic to waste the time of a happiness-
producing mechanism in the production of anything but hap
piness so long as it is possible to devote its time to the manu
facture of that commodity — for happiness may be considered
as a sort of commodity of commodities. One minute unneces
sarily employed in the production of anything else is just one
minute wasted.

Now it is altogether probable that the well paid, ambitious,
and happy laborers of America could do more work in an hour
than the ill paid and exhausted laborers of Europe could do in

506 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT II [ BOOK III

the same time,, but they could not do six times as much, and
hence they could not compete with said ill paid laborers. We
often hear it said that well paid labor need not fear the com
petition of labor that is ill paid, because well paid labor is, in
the end, the cheapest. It is cheapest in misery — but not in
money, and success in competition depends on low money cost
— not low labor cost. Hence under a competitive system, poorly
paid labor is generally the cheapest. Were it not so, capitalists
would refuse to pay low wages, and he who charged most for
his services would in every case be employed. It is unnecessary
to remark that this condition of things is not to be discovered
by much searching. Even in those exceptional industries where
the skill of the workman is such a critical factor that highly
paid labor can more than hold its own with cheap labor, little
is gained by the community at large, since under conditions of
free competition attempts to compete by parties employing
cheap labor are continually made, and though in the end they
may be unsuccessful they involve the perpetuation of those un
happy conditions of industry which it should be the object of
society to avoid.

In short the notion with which free traders in this country
attempt to deceive themselves and others viz. : that the use of
improved machinery in America would prevent deterioration in
the standard of living here, is a delusion. It would do so only
so long as capitalists, American or foreign, were so stupid as not
to perceive that the use of the same machinery in Europe, where
cheap labor is available, would yield a greater margin of profit
than here where it is not. Well paid labor and improved ma
chinery may compete with ill paid labor and antiquated machin
ery, but where cheap labor is superimposed upon improved
machinery, the competition of well paid labor becomes impossi
ble.

Now by the superimposition of labor at one-sixth the^cost of
that required in America upon the same machinery there em
ployed the foreign competitor with pantocracy, although he
might not be successful in lowering his wage-fund to one-sixth
that required in America, could probably lower it to one-quarter
of that amount. This would enable him to undersell the Ameri
can factories, and how could those factories meet such competi
tion except by discharging nearly two-thirds of their employees,
cutting the wages of the remainder in half, and extending their
hours of labor from four to twelve; in other words, they would
have to come down to the level of their competitors and lose all

CHAP. XIV] THE NEXT STEP 507

they had gained in economy of consumption. It might be that
the cost of freightage would save them from coming quite to
the level of their foreign competitors, or it might not, for the
cost of freightage on the raw material might be such as to favor
said competitors as much as that on the finished product opposed
them. The absence of profit would also be in favor of the
American producer, but the margin would be small at best and
continually dwindling. To meet foreign competition the gen
eral lowering of wages, if such were required, would be of no con
sequence, since a general fall or rise of nominal wages does not
affect real wages; but the discharge of men into the non-pro
ducing and non-consuming class, and the lengthening of the
hours of labor would destroy the very economy of consumption
which it is the object of pantocracy to promote, and the whole
system would be thrown into the chaos inseparable from com
petition ; for free trade is but free competition between nations
— it is as destructive of the end of utility as that between in
dividuals — and the policy of protection is an interference with
it distinctly socialistic. It is a definite recognition of the
beneficence of suppressed competition, and is a step in the right
direction, a means of maintaining the economy of consumption
in countries where it is not a minimum. Countries like China,
where labor is the cheapest on earth, require no protection, but
free trade as a policy of the United States would be calamitous
even under our present system, and under pantocracy it would
be impossible. The whole misunderstanding about free trade
arises from mistaking wealth for happiness, and thinking in
terms of money cost instead of in terms of labor cost. Thus
arises the ridiculous notion that the cheapening of products is
equally useful to a community whether it arises from exploita
tion of the sentient factor of production with an increase of
labor cost, or of the non-sentient factor of production with a
decrease thereof. To seek the elevation of the standard of living
by the first method — to cheapen products by cheapening labor,
is to emulate the dextrous feat of Baron Munchausen who pulled
himself out of a bog by his boot-straps — and the ingenious
economists who, by io-noring the distinction between the sentient
and non-sentient factors of production, sanction this mode of
rescuing society from the industrial slough in which it is mired,
are entitled to the same meed of admiration which is flue the not
less ingenious Munchausen. Both must be commended for their
dexterity — of wit.

From' the foregoing consideration of the questions

508 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BOOK III

gration and protection the immediate policy of the United States
is plain. Immigration should not only be restricted — it should
be prohibited. All immigrants of the laboring class who tend
to swamp the labor market should be kept out as completely as
the Chinese are now. An exclusion law operating for say ten
years, and renewable at the end of that period., should be passed,
and rigidly enforced. If any great harm were coming to the
country from this policy it would be evident within ten years,
but let it be distinctly understood that delay in the development
and dissipation of nature's resources is not a harm, but a benefit,
in a country whose economy of consumption is as wretched as
that of the United .States. What is the hurry about developing
the resources of the country? They have existed here for a
long time and they are not going to vanish spontaneously. The
forests will not fly away — the ore deposits are not going to sink
into the inaccessible bowels of the earth — the elements of the
soil's fertility will not evaporate. Why not let them alone until
they become assets of utility? They constitute potentialities of
great happiness — why not wait until those potentialities can be
realized? Why should we hasten to develop them now when
only their potentialities of unhappiness can be realized? By
postponing their development a few years until the economy of
consumption in this country is improved we can reap from these
resources a vast harvest of happiness. Why not husband them
till then? Prohibition of immigration may lead to the hus
bandry of these resources, but this is just what is wanted. The
object of utility is not merely to build towns — it is to build
happy towns. It is not sufficient to make the country support
a population — it must be a Jiappy population, and any rate of
happiness production less than that involving maximum effi
ciency is uneconomic.

Thus rendered consistent by the protection of labor, the gen
eral policy of protection should be continued, and as soon as
the nation began the manufacture of any commodity under a
public monopoly the importation of that commodity should be
thenceforth prohibited altogether. Thus interference with the
progress of the nation through the importation of commodities
or of men would be prevented.

With such policies adopted, or definitely in view, the United
States could enter upon experimentation with a pantocratic
system upon a small though conclusive scale; but a small scale
of experiment would mean a large scale of production — for a
small scale of production would not lead to conclusive results.

CHAP. XIV] THE NEXT STEP

509

Modern industry requires production on a large scale — and it
derives its high economy therefrom, for only on a large scale
can the division of labor and the extended use of machinery be
introduced to advantage. The pantocratic system could be ap
plied most easily and simply to commodity producing industries
— hence to these it should be first applied. A few typical, ex
tensively consumed, commodities should be selected, and experi
ment at first confined to these. Steel-making, meat-packing,
coal-mining, cotton-growing, and perhaps lumbering, would be
convenient and typical classes of industry to start with. Public
monopoly would not be necessary at first, though perhaps in the
case of coal mining it might be desirable even at first, The
promptest mode of procedure would be to take one or more large
plants of the first two named industries by right of eminent do
main, paying for them as for any condemned property. Through
the exercise of the same right, suitable tracts of coal-mining and
cotton-raising land should be acquired. The tracts for lumber
ing have already been acquired — they are the forest reserves,
and by the extension of the same principle, tracts for other
public purposes could, and should, be reserved. Having acquired
the appropriate properties the government should assign them
to the management of a definite department of government,
called, let us say, the Department of Industry, either created for
the purpose, or organized as a bureau of some department already
in existence. Having conducted such statistical inquiries as are
required to establish the various items of expense, the initial
producing times of the various commodities, etc., the depart
ment of industry should draw up definite plans of procedure,
fix the scale of wages and of conditional compensation, and
enter upon the several industrial operations specified — or others
equally appropriate — on a large scale; the definite object being
the reducing of hours of labor and the fall of prices by the
introduction of improved machinery, social and material, and
the practice of all economies of production other than tHe op
pression of the sentient factor.

As these experimental applications of pantocracy would not
simulate the consistent and fully grown system exactly certain
allowances would have to be 'made, and certain expedients
adopted, which would be unnecessary at a later stage. Thus the
industrial coefficient should be arbitrarily fixed at a low value,
the bulk of the benefit of curtailment of the producing time ac
cruing directly to the producer. The reasons for this are ob
vious. (1) Such a policy would more rapidly abolish the army

510 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BooK III

of unemployed. (2) Were all industries conducted under a
pantocratic system, then the fall in price of commodities inci
dent thereto would be a fall in the price of most, or all, com
modities. Hence if the industrial coefficient were the same in
all industries, a large value thereof would be tolerable, since each
producer would gain by the increase in the purchasing power
of his wages what he failed to gain in the decrease of his hours
of labor. But where only a few industries are practising panto-
cracy no such compensation to the producer is to be obtained.
Hence the industrial coefficient should be low, and the bulk
of the benefit of the system go to the producer. This would not
materially interfere with the acquisition of the information
which the experiment is designed to yield, since it is obvious that
by such change in the industrial coefficient as the community
might subsequently deem best the benefit of all economies of
production could be distributed between producer and consumer
in any desirable ratio.

Another difference between such a local and a general system
of pantocracy would be the absence of any adequate substitute
for the department of output regulation. This would be serious,
and involve the loss of some of the main benefits of the system.
Hence to test this part of the system it would be desirable to
establish at least one public monopoly — say the coal mines —
or perhaps the anthracite mines alone. With such an experi
ment almost every feature of the system could be thoroughly
tested, and the conditions of general pantocracy simulated quite
closely.

In those experiments involving competition with private com
petitors, however, many features besides that of conditional
compensation could be tested sufficiently for guidance in their
ultimate conversion into public monopolies. Thus the ordinary
channels of distribution could be used, and each industry could
have its own labor exchange — organized preferably under the
national civil service bureau. Inspection of products would also
be easy. Experimental laboratories, stimulated by conditional
compensation, should, without fail, be organized in every experi
mental industry. Should it care to protect itself by patents it is
probable that thus equipped, the government would soon outstrip
all its competitors in lowering the price of commodities, even
with the advantages in this respect which said competitors would
have in their liberty to oppress at will the sentient factor of pro
duction ; since pantocracy would have in its favor compensating
advantages more than equivalent thereto, such as freedom from

CHAP. XIV] THE NEXT STEP 5li

labor troubles, enthusiasm, and zeal on the part of laborers and
directors alike, and harmonious co-operation between them, a
more rapid improvement in the machinery of industry, and the
absence of any necessity to make a profit. Conditional com
pensation would not be comparable to profit, and would be no
drain upon industry, first because it would only be slight com
pared with the amounts paid in normal dividends, and second
because it would be proportional to, and conditional upon, im
provements in the arts. If these advantages of pantocracy over
private enterprise were not sufficient the industrial ratio could
be increased until they became so. Thus even without any defi
nite fiat government activity under pantocracy would, with little
doubt, soon extend itself into public monopoly, because of the
impossibility of successful competition by any private enterprise,
and it would only need to fear foreign competition because of
its cheap and indefinitely oppressible labor, and its power to
adopt the machinery developed here without our consent. Of
course the government might overcome this last difficulty, in
some degree, by taking out foreign patents, but foreign patent
laws could be changed at the will of foreign governments, and it
would be cheaper and easier to forbid importation altogether,
since it would accomplish precisely the same result in the end.

The system of pantocracy would require to be adapted to each
industry by careful trial, because every industry has conditions
peculiar to'itself, and the mode of applying the principles of pan
tocracy could only be learned experimentally. In the case of
most commodity-producing industries the mode of application
would be practically the same for all; hence in such industries
relatively little experimentation would be required, but to agri
cultural industries whose activities fluctuate with the seasons,
and to transportation, the adaptation of the system would be less
easy, and would probably involve some preliminary failure. The
initial stage in all industries, however, should be careful and con
clusive experimentation. This would thoroughly insure the
community against calamity.

Assuming the preliminary experimentation to be over, what
should be the next step? How should the transfer from capi
talism to pantocracy, in the case of each industry, be accom
plished ? How should the means of production, now in the hands
of private parties, be transferred to the people? Four modes of
accomplishing %this may be suggested. (1) By confiscation.
(2) By destructive competition. (3) By purchase. (4) By

512 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BooK in

gradual sequestration. Let us examine the advantages of each
of these modes.

(1) Confiscation is merely the expropriation of property by
the state without compensation to the owner or owners thereof.
It is a method familiar enough in time of war, but practically
unknown at any other time. The American nation was founded
upon such an act of confiscation, and by a similar act President
Lincoln emancipated the slaves in 1863. It is, of course, uncon
stitutional under our system of government except as a war
measure; few persons would sanction it, and any attempt by
such a method to obtain control of the means of production
would require a profound change of sentiment in the American
people. It is hardly worth while therefore to discuss the matter
or its morality, and we shall pass to more practical suggestions.

(2) Destructive competition is a method familiar in private
industry and, as suggested on page 511, the government under a
system of pantocracy would possess such advantages over private
competitors that it could probably ruin them and acquire their
property through bankruptcy proceedings. In order to do this,
however, it might be necessary to increase the producing ratio
more than is desirable. In opposition to the advantages of
pantocracy private enterprise would have but one weapon — the
oppression of its wage earners — and it would be a difficult
weapon to wield with labor organized as it is to-day. Indeed
this mode of acquiring private property is as undesirable be
tween the government and private enterprise as it is between
one private enterprise and another. It would be practically
confiscation by competition, since the capitalist would be forced
to part with his property without compensation, or at any rate,
with slight compensation. It would involve, as it always in
volves, great hardships and unnecessary suffering, and any act
or policy involving unnecessary suffering must be unjust. Yet
most men would consider competitive confiscation a just mode
of requiring the property of private individuals — and why —
simply because it is a customary mode, and wherever dogma pre
vails, custom determines justice. To ruin competitors by " fair "
and free competition is a commonplace affair in business, and
hence is sanctioned by current morality, which in this case, as in
others, reverses common sense, justifying the end by the means
instead of the means by the end. A better method than the
slow and painful one of competitive confiscation is available.

(3) The method of acquisition by purchase is* familiar and
requires little comment. Applied to the acquisition of the means

CHAP. XIV] THE NEXT STEP 513

of production of the country it would almost of necessity take
the form of bond issues. Title to the property to be taken would
be transferred to the government by right of eminent domain —
interest-bearing bonds of the value of said property would be
issued in exchange, redeemable during a term of years — thirty,
forty, fifty, or even more. At the end of the period, the bonds
having been all redeemed, the property would belong to the gov
ernment without further payment of interest. Such a method of
purchase should be as constitutional in the case of great prop
erties as it certainly is in the case of small properties. Never
theless, it contains elements of injustice which will become ap
parent by discussion of the fourth alternative.

(4) Gradual sequestration might be of several kinds. I shall
suggest two — either of which would presumably be preferable
to the foregoing methods. These are (a) Acquisition by the
issue of non-inheritable bonds, and (b) Acquisition by payment
of diminishing interest.

(a) Acquisition by the issue of non-inheritable bonds may be
explained as follows": Title to the property should be secured,
as in the case of simple purchase, by right of eminent domain,
interest-bearing bonds of the value of the property should be
issued in exchange, but these should be non-redeemable, non-
transferable, and on the death of the holder should become void,
the property represented by them reverting to the government.
Thus by the simple expedient of making bonds issued in payment
for the means of production non-inheritable said means of pro
duction would become the property of the people without further
expense than that involved in the payment of a low rate of
interest on the value of the property during the lifetime of the
original bondholders. This expense should be carried by fund
(a) (p 439) and would be continually dwindling as more and
more of the bonds were rendered void by the death of their
holders the advantage of the diminishing expense fund accruing
to the community by the resulting fall in the price <

modities.

I am well aware that the method of acquisition here proposed
will be criticized. The charge will doubtless be made that :
merely confiscation in the guise of purchase, and that
invasion of the sacred and inalienable rights of Property. It
certainly is an invasion of the sacred and inalienable right of
bequest' of property, but as that right is as non-existent ;
other inalienable right of individuals no moral right whatever
is invaded. The so-called right of bequest is a privilege which
33

514 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BOOK III

time has altered into a right, or alleged right, and when such
privileges are invaded history shows that there is always much
protest against the invasion of rights. It is the old story — the
sanction of tradition is substituted for the sanction of justice.
It must be admitted that the expedient proposed is uncustomary
— it may even be unconstitutional — but it is not unjust. Let
us look at the facts candidly. In substance they are as follows.
Every particle of man-created capital in this country has been
created by the labor of the people. Through the operation of the
machinery of the capitalistic system, title to the capital so created
has become vested in a small class of the people. This has been
accomplished through the accumulation of surplus values. Now
by the system of purchase through redeemable bonds what is
asked of the people ? Nothing more nor less than this : that they
buy back the capital which they have themselves created from
persons who, for the most part, had nothing whatever to do with
its creation, and many of whom were not even born when it was
created. This, we are told, is justice. But would Justice ap
prove it? Clearly not. Very well then, it is not justice but
injustice. Hence, it should not be tolerated by a just nation, nor
advocated by a just man.

I believe a little candid consideration will convince any rea
sonable man that some such restriction upon the accumulation of
wealth as the one proposed will become necessary if the liberty
of the people is to endure. With the present facilities of accu
mulation the unrestricted privilege of bequest and inheritance
simply means that, in two or three generations at the most,
practically all the wealth of the country will be in the hands of
a few hundred families, or perhaps a few score families. The
people will be practically slaves; they will be in the condition
of the people of Attica at the accession of Solon — held in
bondage by the money lenders. Solon freed his country by
abrogating the "inalienable right" of the Athenian capitalists
to hold their creditors in servitude, and there can be no doubt
that the " inalienable right " of unrestricted bequest will have
to be abrogated if the people of this country are to be anything
better than bondsmen. A society like our own, divided into
classes on the basis of wealth, is unstable. It is but a special
case of a nation " half slave and half free," or rather nine-tenths
slave and one-tenth free. Wealth is the foundation of power,
and history proves that no class has ever possessed power without
using it to further its own ends. This can only mean that the
inequality of wealth in a society where there is no restrictior

CHAP. XIV] THE NEXT STEP 515

upon accumulation will become greater and greater until the
masses either become permanent bondsmen, or revolt and re
establish equality by confiscation, and the process will repeat
itself until some restriction is placed upon accumulation, for
otherwise the establishment of equality is not permanent.

Thus the acquisition of the means of production by non-in
heritable bonds would accomplish two useful objects at the same
time. It would place the ownership of public utilities in the
hands of the public, where alone they belong, and it would allay
the congestion of wealth which menaces the life of the republic.
Abrogation of the right to bequeath property in means of pro
duction, such as is here proposed, leaves intact, of course, the
right to bequeath other kinds of property. It is private prop
erty in public utilities alone which the expedient proposed is de
signed to abolish.

(b) Acquisition by payment of diminishing interest is an
alternative means of acquiring public utilities which would have
some advantages over the preceding, and would perhaps be less
disturbing to the business interests of the country during the
period of transition. The nature of this means may be indicated
by the following example: Suppose the purchasing price of a
given plant to be A dollars. For the first three years the gov
ernment would pay interest on A dollars ; for the next three on
ninety per cent of A dollars; for the following three on eighty
per cent of A dollars, and so on. Carrying out this principle,
title to the property would become completely vested in the
government at the expiration of thirty years ; the transition
from private to public ownership being immediate so far as con
cerned operation, but gradual so far as concerned the division
of profit. In the beginning profit, represented by interest on
the full value of the property, would be given the original owners :
at the end this would all accrue to the public in the form of
diminished prices: in the intermediate stages it would be divided
between the original owners and the public. By a device of this
general character, or of that involved in the issue of non-inherita
ble bonds, the means of production could be gradually restored
to the community which created them without any violent •
turbance of private interests.

It should not be forgotten, however, that by whatever mode
the acquisition of the public utilities of the United States might
or may be accomplished it is not of necessity permanent,
acquiring control of the industries in which their welfare is
bound up the people will have done nothing irrevocable. They

516 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT II [Boon ill

can always reverse their action if they conclude they have made
a mistake. Many earnest persons believe that the cessation of
individual ownership in the means of production would leave
the people in a hopeless, ambitionless, and dejected condition —
would deprive them of initiative and thrift. He who has care
fully considered what has preceded in this work will, I believe,
be unable to accept -such a view. It is, indeed, diametrically
opposed to the truth, and arises from the confusion of socialism
in production with socialism in consumption. The present sys
tem it is which is destructive of ambition and initiative — not
indeed completely so, but tending to confine these traits to a
favored few. The great mass of the industrial army must always
consist of laborers engaged in the execution — not in the direc
tion of the tasks of the world, just as the great mass of an ordi
nary army must consist of privates — very few can be colonels
and generals. Hence a system which would make mankind hope
ful must hold out hope to the executive laborers — not alone the
hope of rising into the directive class; this must in the very
nature of things be delusive to the average man, and is indeed
conspicuously so under the present system — but it must hold
out the hope of happiness to the wage-earner while he remains
a wage-earner — it must render him a joyous being whether or
no he rises into the directing class. This, pantocracy is designed
to accomplish, which capitalism is not. But if, under the former
system, any particular acquisition of a public utility by the public
should turn out to be a mistake, or seem to do so — if it should
tend to diminish hope and stifle ambition — the people could
readily reverse their action if they desired to ; and this would
be particularly easy provided they had established the essentially
democratic principle of direct legislation. A referendum vote
would suffice to put any public utility back into the hands of
private capitalists. For example, suppose our people at the
present time had power of direct legislation, and concluded that
they public ownership of the Post Office was making them ambi
tionless and dejected. They could easily, by means of the refer
endum, direct the authorities to transfer the whole system to
capitalists. This might be done in any one of a variety of ways.
The government might agree to accept the bonds of a syndicate
formed to conduct the post office business of the country, and
experience proves that it would probably not be difficult to find
a syndicate willing to serve the public in such a capacity. On
receipt of properly guaranteed bonds the post office property
would be turned over to the syndicate, and they would proceed

CHAP. XIV] THE NEXT STEP 517

to conduct it in such a manner as would be most profitable to
themselves, that is, by instituting the normal process of giving as
little to, and getting as much from, the public as possible. In
this way perhaps the ambition of the people might be revived, and
their dejection turned into hope, and the same course could be
pursued with any public utility which the nation might acquire
under pantocracy. Thus the people would be fully guaranteed
against the dismal and dejected conditions which certain un
observant theorists are convinced must inhere in freedom from
capitalistic control of industry, and could proceed with the suc
cessive aquisition of the various utilities now in private hands
with full consciousness that the old conditions could be re-estab
lished in any particular case, should a careful trial show such a
course to be desirable.

The centralization so dreaded by political dogmatists is dan
gerous only under oligarchical conditions. Direct legislation
would render it innocuous. The remedy for present evils is not
less centralization combined with industrial oligarchy ; it is more
centralization combined with industrial democracy. We should
substitute direct for indirect control of the people, by this means
avoiding the dangers not only of capitalistic, but of bureaucratic,

despotism.

We have thus outlined a policy suggested solely by the princi
ples of utility which, if adopted,' would tend to bring the United
States as a nation into a condition of self-support, and make it
the first nation in the history of the world to attain that con
dition. The beneficent effects of the policy would not be fully
felt by the present generation, for the progress of science, though
rapid cannot undo the evil of a thousand generations of dogma
in one of common sense; but if we will put ourselves m the
place of our posterity we shall discover that in adopting the
policy of common sense we have adopted the Golden Kule — we
shall have done to our posterity as we would that our ancestors
had done unto theirs. For, had we the power to choose, under
what conditions would we desire to be brought into the world,
and what conditions would we desire to find there? Would we
desire ancestry of a superior or of an inferior race? Surely we
would not desire an inferior ancestry Very we 1
holding the fate of posterity in our hands we fail to mak<
provision as is supplied us by the current knowledge of heredi
to insure to our posterity an undegenerae ancestry, we have
violated the Golden Eule, and have failed m our duty to the
coming generations. Would we desire to be born into an over-

518 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAET II [BOOK III

populated world the cream of whose resources had been dissi
pated by our ancestors, and take up the struggle for existence
with nature and with man after the first had been rendered
niggardly by " development " and the second desperate by want ;
or would we desire to find the population adapted to its means
of support by a low birth rate instead of a high death rate; to
find the resources of nature husbanded and rendered accessible
by science, and the interests of men identical with, instead of
opposed to, our own? There can be no doubt that the second
of these alternatives would be selected by any sane man. Very
well then — the Golden Eule requires that we adopt the means
necessary to attain such ends, and common sense alone can dis
tinguish them.

Let no man repeat the stale objection that, as this world
is a school of adversity, it is good that men should be born
to pain — that suffering and hardship are better than happi
ness and ease — if he is sincere, let him wear a hair shirt
— that act will speak louder than many words. His consistent
predecessor, the ascetic of the Middle Ages, thus proved his ad
herence to the moral code of unhappiness, and as much should
be required of the modern ascetic before we accept his preaching
as sincere. If this world is indeed a school of adversity — if
those who preach the duty of unhappiness are sufficiently in the
confidence of Omnipotence to know that it is His design that
we be unhappy here, then why do they attempt to thwart that
design by preaching and practising charity ? Why do they labor
to relieve the poor and unfortunate, and thus render less ef
fective the moral discipline which it is the object of life to sup
ply? If they practised what they preached they would seek to
intensify, and not to relieve, the suffering of mankind. They
do not practise what they preach because their heart is a better
guide than their head, and the morality of their instincts repudi
ates the immorality of their theology. It is a triumph of com
mon sense over sophistry. If once we accord men the right to
chawty we cannot withhold from them the right to justice; and
were justice done, charity would be superfluous. The confusion
of this whole matter would be abolished if he who preaches the
glory of suffering and its power to develop character would but
distinguish between self-sacrifice with an object, and self-sacrifice
without an object; if he would but recognize that character is
not an end, but a means to an end. The modern ascetic is not
a follower of Christ, for Christ was a utilitarian, and practised
what He preached. His object was — not to cause men suffer-

CHAP. XIV] THE NEXT STEP 519

ing but to save them from it. He recognized that conscience
must first be guided by right before the conduct of men Tan
safely be guided by conscience. Had He been an intuitionH
adopting conscience as a guide, He might just as well have
accepted the moral code He found, instead of erecting a new
one; for if conscientiousness is all that is required of men it
can be secured as well by adherence to one code of morals as to
another. A man can be as conscientious about burnino- his
iellow-man alive as about curing his sickness or relieving his
poverty. Let all such confusion about the morality of suffering
be repudiated once for all — pain is an unmitigated evil, and its
causes are evils — sickness is an evil, selfishness is an evil ig
norance is an evil, poverty is an evil, only because they are causes
of suffering, and pain is only to be deliberately sought, or de
liberately tolerated, when it is a presumable means to an ultimate
gain in happiness.

The policy herein suggested for the American nation has thus
far been supported only on grounds of patriotism, and were
custom our guide, such grounds would be sufficient. Few, if any,
nations determine their policies by the presumable effects thereof
upon other nations, but utility requires a broader morality than
this. It requires the application of the Golden Rule as between
one nation and another on the same ground that it requires the
application of the same rule as between one generation and an
other. Therefore, we must justify our policy on humanitarian
grounds as well as on patriotic grounds.

There is a school of patriotism more or less popular which
teaches that a man owes to his country a duty which he owes
to no other aggregate of the human race, and that he should
render service to the constituted authorities thereof, whatever
policies they may choose to pursue, The motto of this school
is "My country, right or wrong/' Had it been the motto of
Washington and his compatriots the United States would still
be a part of the British Empire. The particular aggregate of
men which constitutes a nation is a matter of the merest acci
dent. Since the first confederation of the thirteen colonies at
the time of the American Revolution it lias been a matter of
debate whether the United States is one nation, or an aggregate
of nations, as its name implies. At the time of the Civil War,
the North held to the former view, the South to the latter, and
those who contended that each state was sovereign and inde
pendent and entitled to their first allegiance were as patriotic
as those who contended for the opposite view. Indeed, the pa-

520 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT II [BOOK III

triotism whose dictum is " My country, right or wrong " is but
one degree of egotism, for if my country right or wrong, why
not my state right or wrong, if my state right or wrong, why
not my town right or wrong, if my town right or wrong, why not
my neighborhood right or wrong, if my neighborhood right or
wrong, why not my family right or wrong, if my family right or
wrong, why not my great-uncle right or wrong, if my great-
uncle right or wrong, why not myself right or wrong? If patri
otism, why not phyliotism, if phyliotism, why not oeciotism, if
oeciotism, why not egotism ? It would seem as if he whose only
reason for judging a nation worthy of service and support was
because he happened to be a citizen thereof was guilty of the
apotheosis of egotism. The utilitarian cannot sanction such a
view ; he has but one test, and judges of the value of a nation by
the same standard as he judges of the value of everything else —
from a toothpick to a code of morals — that nation is the best
which contributes most to the happiness of humanity, and the
ambition of the true patriot is to make his country occupy that
proud position. Now I claim that the adoption of a pantocratic
policy would make the United States in the future, what she
has been in the past, the greatest contributor to the happiness
of humanity of any nation on earth; and that, unless she aban
dons her present capitalistic system, and adopts a policy of con
sistent democracy, she will cease to be the greatest nation of the
world, and other states, imitating her past instead of her present
example, will supersede her in that' position.

To justify the claim thus made it will be sufficient to expound
the utilitarian theory of free trade as applied to nations like
the United States. It is quite distinct from the laissez faire
theory of free trade, and has an exactly opposite effect upon the
happiness of humanity.

We have asserted that the United States, on assuming the pro
duction of any commodity, should prohibit the importation of
that commodity into the country. This is certainly not much
like ''free trade and the free trader would criticize it." He would
argue thus: Nature has endowed different portions of the
earth's surface with different resources of use to man. Some
portions she has made favorable to one class of industries, other
portions to another class : In certain portions, for example, she
has placed rich deposits of iron ore, and in juxtaposition thereto
the coal and limestone required in its reduction. In those por
tions, therefore, the manufacture of pig iron, and steel ingots,,
and of articles manufactured therefrom, can be carried on with

CHAP. XIV] THE NEXT STEP 521

less labor than is required in parts of the earth's surface where
the conditions of mining and smelting are less favorable. .Simi
larly she has rendered certain other portions particularly well
suited to the manufacture of porcelain, leather, wood-pulp, or
other articles of commerce, and other portions she has adapted
to the growth of cotton, or wheat, or potatoes, etc. Now it is
obvious that articles of commerce can be produced with least
labor in those portions of the earth which nature has adapted
best to their production, and the free trader claims that free
trade, through the free play of competition, will make indus
tries gravitate to those parts of the earth which are thus best
suited to their operation. Protection, on the other hand, by
artificial interference with trade, really enriches nobody since,
if a country is best adapted to the production of a given
commodity, free trade will insure that it shall be produced there,
whereas if it is not adapted, the attempt to produce the com
modity is attended with more labor than would have been re-
nuired had the country confined its efforts to producing products
which by nature it was adapted to produce, and exchanging them
for the given commodity with some country which was better
adapted to produce it. *I believe this to be a fair epitome of
the argument for free trade. To those who have read what
i remarked on this subject on pages 504 to 507 its fallacy will be
obvious The facilities afforded by nature constitute but one
of the factors which enter into the labor cost or the money cos
of commodities. By sufficient oppression of the sentient factor
of production it is easy to compensate for very great differ
ences in natural adaptability ; hence success m competition which
La function of money cost, affords no criterion by which we
may S of the relative natural advantages of two countries
it tef us nothing about relative labor cost. It is only when
lrl -ry decided, that free ation in o

522 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BOOK III

to judge of the labor cost of producing a given commodity, but
a method of thus judging may nevertheless be suggested. It
should be the policy of the United States, on assuming the pro
duction of a given commodity (A) under pantocracy, not only
to prohibit the importation of that commodity, but to freely
proclaim its intention of abandoning said prohibition and said
production in favor of any country which would meet the fol
lowing conditions: (1) Adopt and maintain a pantocratic sys
tem of production, not necessarily identical in every detail with
our own, but deliberately designed to increase the efficiency both
of production and consumption. (2) Prove its ability to pro
duce said commodity (A) at a less labor cost, by producing and
delivering it in the United States at a less money cost than that
required here, after bringing the wage earners engaged in its
production there to the same level of consumption as those en
gaged in its production here — that is, to the same real wages
and same hours of labor. This process I shall call the equaliza
tion of the sentient factor of production. (3) Provide a market
for some other commodity or commodities whose labor cost here
would, under the same system, be less than there; said market
to be substantially as great as that provided by the United States
for commodity (A). This policy embodies the utilitarian theory
of free trade. It provides for the determination of the relative
natural advantages of two or more nations in the production of
any commodity, by comparison of the relative money cost of that
commodity in said nations, not under conditions of unequal
economy of consumption, as is the case with ordinary free trade,
but under conditions of equal economy. It provides that the low
money cost of a commodity shall really represent the great nat
ural advantages utilized in the production thereof, and not the
low standard of living imposed upon the producers thereof. In
addition to this it requires a market in exchange for that aban
doned here, since otherwise the United States could export no
commodities in exchange for those imported. This would result
in an unfavorable balance of trade, and the final loss by the
United States of all its gold, which, in the absence of a market
for anything else, it would be forced to export in exchange for
imports. Such a condition would involve inconvenience, but
worse than this, it would involve the enforced migration of
laborers who, deprived of their means of support here, would
be forced to seek it elsewhere. It is not common sense thus to
force men to follow an industry out of a country. Industries
should be the servants, not the masters, of men, and it is better

CHAP. XIV] THE NEXT STEP 523

to submit to a slightly increased labor cost than to force
ing migration. The happiness involved is the only ci tteSon n
judgmg of this as of any policy. It is well to locate an industry
where it is most favored by nature; but it is better to locate it
where it will produce the most happiness, and in se Ice ™ the
locality of any industry the second consideration should

The mutual interchange of markets under utilitarian free
trade would obviously be an advantage to both nations takino-
part therein since the very conditions of exchange require
that it shall be accomplished only when it involves! decrease
in the labor cost of all the commodities concerned. The mode
of effecting the exchange of markets should and could be made
to exclude all disturbance in the labor market of both countries
Suppose, for example, upon careful examination by experts it is
discovered that, under a pantocratic system, the "labor cost of
producing commodities A, B, and C, in' the United States is less
than that involved in their production in Germany under a sim
ilar system, and that the labor cost of commodities D, E, and F
is less in Germany than in the United States; the markets for
said commodities being essentially the same. Unless the labor
cost of transportation nullified these differences, Germany by
agreement with the United States would cease to produce com
modities A, B, and C — the United States would cease to pro
duce commodities D, E, and F — all restrictions upon the im
portation of these commodities being, of course, removed. In
order not to disturb the labor market, however, the exchange of
commodity markets should not be effected suddenly, but as the
plants in Germany engaged in the production of commodities A,

B, and C, were dismantled, those engaged in D, E, and F would
be erected and the same labor, though not necessarily the same
wage earners, formerly engaged in the production of A, B, and

C, would, without interruption, proceed to engage n. the produc
tion of D, E, and F. Similar operations would occur simul
taneously in the United States. Besides this, such parts of the
machinery for producing the respective commodities as were
worth while transporting could be exchanged between the two
countries, and thus the labor cost of re-erecting the plants in
more favorable situations minimized. As the whole transaction
would be carried out deliberately and after thorough investigation
by experts of its total effect upon both production and con
sumption, and as neither nation would have anything to gain

524 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT II [BOOK III

by concealment or misrepresentation, nothing but good could
result to both nations, and the exchange would be a mutual* bene
fit. The contrast of such a Sane and common sense mode of
taking advantage of natural facilities with the destructive and
chaotic method involved in the laissez faire policy of free trade,
is too obvious to require comment. The latter attains its object
only after the sentient factor of production has been oppressed
to the point of exhaustion — the former requires as a condition
of its consummation that means deliberately designed for the
emancipation of the sentient factor shall be adopted before the
exchange of markets shall occur. The United States, on account
of its vast market and its extraordinary natural advantages, occu
pies a unique position. It is by nature adapted to play the part
of the greatest nation on earth, because by the proper use of
its natural advantages it can contribute more to the happiness
of humanity than any other nation. Should it adopt the laissez
faire policy of free trade it would simply employ its unique
position to contribute to the unhappiness of humanity. Suppose
it should adopt that policy, what would happen ? Every indus
trial nation in the world under the capitalistic system would
bend every effort to capture its vast markets; each would vie
with the other, not only in introducing improvements in the
arts, but in oppressing labor to the breaking point. The labor
ing population of industrial Europe and of the United States
in competition therewith, would engage in a death struggle for
commercial supremacy — the products of industry would be
coined in agony — and year by year conditions would become
worse as each nation tried to bankrupt its competitors; and
what would be the end ? Other things being equal, that nation
would win whose population could be forced to the lowest level of
living and the maximum misery per capita — it would probably
win even from the nation possessing the greatest natural advan
tages, provided that nation were peopled by men who would not
or could not live so cheaply and labor so long. Such a policy
would but put a premium upon the oppression of labor, and while
forcing down the standard of living in Europe, it would force it
down in the United States as well. It would be an invitation
to every industrial nation on earth to outdo its neighbor in
oppressing the sentient factor of production.

On the other hand, what would be the effect should the United
States adopt a system of pantocracy, and at the same time its
logical concomitant, the utilitarian policy of free trade. It
would be an invitation issued to all the world to emancipate its

CHAP. XIV] THE NEXT STEP

525

people. That nation and that nation only whose policy was
guided by the economy of happiness could hope to capture the
markets of the United States, or to benefit by its great natural
advantages. It would put a premium, not upon the oppression,
but upon the uplifting, of wage earners, and would divert the'
ingenuity and effort of the directing class abroad, as well as at
home, from expedients to defeat the demands and aspirations
of the laboring class to expedients for so improving the arts
of production as to accomplish the very object for which the
laboring population are everywhere striving. While recognizing
the fundamental truth at the foundation of the ordinary theory
of free trade, pantocracy would employ that recognition to ac
complish the end of utility. It would "make the capture of our
markets by foreign countries, as well as the capture of foreign
markets by our own, depend upon success in the exploitation of
the non-sentient instead of the sentient factor of production, by
making the equalization of the sentient factor a condition thereof.
It would freely recognize the importance of everywhere taking
advantage of the bounty of nature, and for that very reason would
insist that success in the capture of the world's markets, so far
as the United States could affect the matter, should really be
determined by the bounty of nature, and not by the misery of
man. This is the true theory of reciprocity, for the exchange of
markets under such conditions would bring benefit to all nations
without bringing harm to any, and moreover it is but consistently
carrying out the general policy of pantocracy of saving the sen
tient at the expense of the non-sentient factor of production;
for to so readjust industry as to make more accessible to man
kind the most available resources of nature is equivalent to in
creasing the availability of her resources by the improvement
of machinery, and has a similar effect upon the economy of pro
duction.

Incidentally our exposition of the utilitarian theory of free
trade shows why, in the pantocratic scheme expounded in Chap
ter 13, no provision was made for exploiting foreign markets.
What is the use, under pantocracy, of producing a lot of articles
we do not want, and then having to dispose of them abroad, in
order to postpone (for it does not prevent) a crisis from over
production ? The United States can exercise no control over the
tariff or other policies of foreign countries under the present
system, and an industry depending for its market upon foreign
trade may be thrown out of gear at any time by a change in
the policy of some foreign country. A foreign trade (unless

526 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [BOOK III

under the conditions just expounded) would preclude the adap
tation of the supply to the demand and would thus throw the
pantocratic mechanism into disorder. Except as a means of
obtaining articles, such as coffee and spices, which she does not
attempt to produce at all, the United States has no more need
of a trade with foreign countries than the earth has need of
a trade with Mars. Products such as those mentioned, not pro
ducible in the United States, should be, as now, obtained by
exchange for those produced here; and the trade in such com
modities should be the only trade with countries too unenlight
ened to adopt a pantocratic system.

Success in imposing upon other countries the recognition and
practice of the economy of happiness would have remote effects
even more valuable to humanity than the immediate effect in
volved in the mutually advantageous exchange of markets. By
raising the standard of living and of education abroad the' same
effect would be produced there as here, viz., suspension of the
Law of Malthus. By the powerful effect of a pantocratic system
upon the law of increasing returns the pressure of the population
upon its means of subsistence and of happiness would be relieved
-it would no longer be necessary for the inhabitants of for
eign lands to seek relief from misery by exile. Emigration
would ^cease because the necessity for it would disappear. Thus
by its immigration and trade policy our country would not only
insure its own posterity against over-population, but it would
make relief from over-population in other countries the very
means of that insurance. The unequal pressure of population is
the cause of migration, and to permanently dispense with the
necessity of migration the pressure must be equalized. The
present immigration policy of the United States proposes to
equalize it by increasing the pressure here — the proposed panto
cratic policy would equalize it by decreasing it abroad. Of
what use is it to give a few immigrants temporary relief from
the .burden of over-population only to produce finally the very
conditions here from which they sought, and are seeking, to
escape abroad. Their temporary relief only insures to their
posterity and ours permanent impossibility of relief. If through
improved facilities of communication the unoccupied areas of
the earth are, in the next few generations, to be populated as
densely as Europe or China, what is to become of the numberless
generations which are to follow ? The time is rapidly approach
ing when relief from over-population cannot be obtained from
migration unless we establish communication with the moon.

CHAP. XIV] THE NEXT STEP 527

The United States should not permit the transient effect of
immigration upon the actual immigrants themselves to blind
it to the permanent effect thereof upon posterity. The impulse
to relieve the misery we see is a commendable one ; but the mis
ery we do not see is as real as that we see. We shall not live
to witness the full measure of misery which posterity must pay
for our present policy, but our failure to witness it will not
reduce its poignancy one iota. The misery we relieve now by
that policy is not as a drop in the bucket to that which will be
caused by it hereafter. It may gratify our impulses to relieve
the poor immigrant fleeing from the over-population of Europe,
but what right have we to secure such gratification at the cost
of the embittered lives of future generations? It is profoundly
unjust thus to allow sentiment to dominate reason. It is the
merest pathomania and no less dangerous than dogma.

Paralleling the argument for unrestricted immigration arising
from short-sighted sentiment, there is another having its origin
in religious dogma which, if consistently applied, would lead
back to fatalism. Thus, it is often remarked that men should
not meddle with the interests of posterity, because though those
interests may be affected by their acts, the effects are not imme
diately observable, and such matters should be left to the care
of God, the assumption being that God will attend to that which
man neglects. This is perhaps the last concretely baneful reli
gious dogma which survives in the western world. It is applied
under various circumstances where no other pretext can be con
veniently cited as justification for a prevailing custom
course it is never consistently applied, since if it is indeed safe
to leave things to the care of God, one thing can be as safely
left to His care as another, and neither men nor nations wor
need to take thought for the morrow, but could trust to Heaven
for food, raiment, and protection from the elements. Labor
could be dispensed with, and it could be said of men as of the
lilies "They toil not neither do they spin," and yet are pro
vided for by the Creator. How fallible man is enabled todifl
tinguish those things which it is safe to leave to God from those
which it is not, is a question which must be left to -such , pe r ons
as possess supernatural means of communication with the Author
of the Universe But this much is certain — if their counse

prevails and leads to the neglect
posterity must pay a mightv price for the ignorance
aTeTtr? Experience teaches that there is no more reason to
believe^n the intervention of God to prevent the misery of pos-

528 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PART II [Boon III

terity than to prevent the poverty, and crime, and dishonor,
which we observe about us. To attempt to place the responsibil
ity for human inaction upon God is a dismal piece of superstition.
If the world is to be successful in the production of happiness, it
must be through the voluntary acts of man, and God will not
nullify his negligence in one department of conduct more than
in another. The law of increasing population and its direct
consequence, the law of increasing migration, cannot be counter
acted by neglect. To attempt to follow the policy of drift in
the future, as it has been followed in the past; to attempt to
equalize the pressure of population upon subsistence by increas
ing its final pressure, instead of decreasing its initial pressure is
hopeless, because it leaves the operation of the Law of Malthus
intact. It will but hasten the day when the population of the
earth attains natural, instead of beneficent, equilibrium. It will
but reduce the whole world to a common level of misery, and

" Shut the gates of mercy on mankind."

Besides its effect upon terrestrial over-population, the recip
rocal exchange of markets under pantocracy would have an effect
upon international amity and union only less beneficent, because
as each great nation fell into its natural place as an interna
tional producer of those commodities which it was by nature
best fitted to produce, the interdependence of nations would in
crease, and the incentive to international strife would disappear
with the disappearance of the occasion therefor. With the ex
tension of the organization of industry under pantocracy the
departments of output regulation, distribution, etc., would be
come international instead of national, since not otherwise could
the supply be adjusted to the demand. Instead of striving
to outdo its fellow nations in the world's markets, each nation
would strive to outdo its fellows in raising the level of its own
happiness, for this would be the condition of capturing those
markets. That is, the self-interest of each nation would become
identical with the self-interest of all nations. This is obviously
no more than the principle of pantocracy applied to the rela
tions of nations. With such an international policy war would
become extremely improbable since no nation seeks to wage war
upon its own interests, and having once entered into the relations
of mutual interdependence implied in the utilitarian policy of
free trade, the interests of the great nations of the earth would
become identical, and any nation entering into war with its

CHAP. XIV] THE NEXT STEP

529

neighbors would, by that act, deprive itself of things essential
i life, or happiness, or both. Thus pantocracy would seek
to attain universal peace by so adjusting the relations of nations
as to make them have everything to lose and nothing to gain
by war, and an essential part of its policy would consist in so
directing education that not only would this be the case but that
everyone would know that it was the case, and would govern his
conduct accordingly. As with individuals, so with nations, it
would seek to divert the power of self-interest from destructive
into constructive channels, since to abolish self-interest entirely
is out of the question. Thus patriotism would become identical
with humanitarianism, and the sentiment of Thomas Paine
would become that of every patriot : " The world is my coun
try and to do good is my religion."

This is but a recognition of the assertion made in Chapter 3
that the distribution of pleasure and pain in space or time is of
no consequence. It matters not when or by whom these sensa
tions are felt, whether now or a thousand years hence, whether
by white man, black man, dog, toad, or worm ; the form, size, or
constitution of tissues of the sentient being concerned have
nothing to do with the question. Intensity and duration are
the only factors which may justly be considered. There is in
the universe but one good and that is happiness, and there is
but one evil and that is unhappiness: all things else are to be
deemed good or evil only because of their relation to these
through the law of causation. To contradict this assertion
either leaves the words good and evil without any useful mean
ing, or it deprives them of all meaning whatever.

Here ceases our exposition of the economy of happiness. As
a treatise on the techn6logy of that subject it is primitive and
incomplete, but as it is the first of its kind, perhaps no more
can be expected of it. When contrasted with treatises of a
future generation, I hope and I expect, that it will appear a poor
and feeble thing. I believe, however, that, as a structure, it
will stand. Its details doubtless will be profoundly modified and
amplified, but its principles appear to be as eternal as the struc
ture of the mind from which they are deduced. This convic
tion may be a delusion. If so, the sooner it is overthrown the
better, and none will be readier to assist in its overthrow than
he who now sustains it. Science cannot live on delusions,
whereas dogmatism cannot live on anything else, and if the pres-

530 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS— PART II [BOOK III

ent work is infected with dogma, let no method of disinfection
known to the candid critic be spared.

But before the system herein submitted is judged, one point
should be brought to a distinct focus in the critic's mind. Any
criterion of criticism, whether applied to art or agriculture, to
potatoes or politics, to mud-pies or morals, must be either in-
tuitionistic or it must not. If it is, then the ultimate dictum
of criticism can be no more than " I like it " or " I don't like
it." With such a criterion there are no issues except between
individual tastes, and to dispute about a right or a wrong — a
better or a worse — whether in morals or anything else, is idle,
since de gustibus non est disputandum. He who fails to clearly
comprehend this truth is ignorant of the A B C of criticism. If,
on the other hand, the criterion employed is not intuitionistic, it
must be utilitarian, or founded on some other distinction in ex
perience as independent of approval and disapproval as is the
criterion of utility. As already shown, (p. 257) such a distinc
tion no one has ever deemed it worth while to seek, nor is any one
likely to. Hence the criterion of utility is the only one by which
any system may usefully be judged, and directed by that criterion
the controversy of keen and discriminating criticism becomes the
champagne of philosophy. ,

But of the many varieties of criticism by intuition there is
one requiring neither discrimination nor keenness which may
as well be anticipated, since no proposed innovation has ever
escaped it and none ever will. I refer to that form of censure
which labels all new proposals " impractical." Critics subject to
this infirmity confound the impractical with the uncustomary.
They assume that what they cannot conceive, the universe cannot
realize. They limit the capacity of all human effort by their
own. Every age has had critics of this calibre and none is com
moner to-day than the political pessimist who complains that
there is really no use in trying to do anything to the present situ
ation except apply a few palliatives, warranted to disturb no
respectable gentleman in the enjoyment of his immemorial privi
leges. They admit that the world progresses, but only at a rate,
and in a direction, which they are peculiarly fitted to prescribe.
These critics, I am sure, will be able to tell "by intuition"
that the proposals herein put forth are impractical. They are
of the same class as those who, by the sound of the name, can
tell that socialism is impractical. But can any presumption be
established that the judgment of these men is such as to afford
a safe guide to the conduct of society? Are their attainments

CHAP. XIV] THE NEXT STEP

531

and training of the character required, and do they approach the
subject with an open mind? Have the distinctions and prin
ciples herein set forth been long familiar to their meditations,
and are the doctrines founded upon them rejected by critics
whose mature judgment has weighed them in the balance and
found them wanting? By no means. The men who make
"practicalness" the test of every proposed system are fitted
neither by training nor judgment to apply that test. They
consist of pedagogues whose highest ambition is to teach what
they have been taught, editors dominated by the dogmas of a past
generation, law-givers whose political philosophy is a mitigated
anarchy, business men who mistake a knowledge of finance for
omniscience. If their private cogitations have been centered long
upon the technics of human happiness no one has ever suspected
it. They are political mystics who use the terms liberty, pros
perity, patriotism, public welfare, justice, as their metaphysical
prototypes use the terms substance, noumcnon, tliing-in~itsclf,
ego — not as signs of, but as substitutes for, ideas. As critics,
they are of that common class

"Who now to sense, now nonsense leaning,
Mean not, but blunder round about a meaning."

It is scarcely possible that they can be practical — since if the
word practical is to be employed in any useful meaning the prac
tical man is one who adapts his means to his ends; hence in order
that he who would adapt the means of society to its end may be
practical, the first requisite is that be shall know wliat that end
is; and this is just what no critic of the prevailing school of econ
omy docs know. Therefore, he cannot be practical. It may be
that the dogmatic critic can show common sense to be "imprac
tical," but in order to do so he must first emasculate his term.

Perhaps it may be deemed impractical — as it certainly is un
customary — to begin a work on political philosophy with an
analysis of common sense. Is it impractical because everyone
understands the nature of common sense "by intuition/' or be
cause political philosophy requires no such foundation? If
everyone does understand common sense how i^ it that^most of
us discover that other people have an aggravating habit of de
parting from it ; and if political philosophy is not to be founded
on common sense, on what is it to be founded ? r>oes the critic
deem that a shallower foundation would ho a surer one? Is
superficiality a guarantee of security? There appears to be a

532 TECHNOLOGY OF HAPPINESS — PAKT II [Boon III

popular idea that in such a "practical" thing as politics the
superficial man is the safest, but that in engineering, or navi
gation, or medicine, he is not. Such a delusion is not derived
from experience, though it is well adapted to furnish nations
with experience sufficient to correct it. Those who are subject
to this delusion are usually subject to another, viz., that the
practical man is not a theorist. The doctrines of the economy
of happiness therefore being theories, must be impractical, but
they ignore the palpable fact that as opponents of those theories
they are themselves theorists, since a political theory can be
opposed only by advocating one of its alternatives. And advo
cates of any of the alternatives of pantocracy, except socialism,
are not only theorists — not only advocates of a theory — but
of a theory absurd apriori and aposteriori — not only wrong in
principle, but a failure in practice. No political theory thus far
put in operation has been anything but a failure — none has
ever produced a permanent surplus of happiness — and none
ever will until morality, political and personal, is recognized as
within the domain of common sense. When that time comes,
politics will take its place with applied mechanics, electricity,
and chemistry, as a branch of technology, and will become as
thoroughly revolutionized as were alchemy, astrology, and the
other varieties of mysticism from which the sciences of to-day
have been evolved.

It is a view very commonly held that, somehow or other, sci
ence will better the existing order of things — and so it will —
but in so doing, it will apply the methods it has always applied ;
it will proceed by definite steps in a definite direction. Science
has already done more for humanity than the sum of all the
other forces set in motion by human effort. In her achieve
ments, to quote Archdeacon Farrar,

"... there is not only beauty and wonder, but also benefi
cence and power. It is not only that she has revealed to us infinite
space' crowded with unnumbered worlds; infinite time peopled by
unnumbered existences; infinite organisms hitherto invisible but
full of delicate and iridescent loveliness but also that she has
been, as a great Archangel of Mercy, devoting herself to the
service of man. She has labored, her votaries have labored, not
to increase the power of despots, or to add to the magnificence of
courts, but to extend human happiness, to economize human effort,
to extinguish human pain. Where of old, men toiled, half blinded
and half naked, in the mouth of the glowing furnace to mix the
white-hot iron, she now substitutes the mechanical action of the

CHAP. XIV] THE NEXT STEP 533

viewless air. She has enlisted the sunbeam in her service to limn
for us, with absolute fidelity, the faces of the friends we love.
She has shown the poor miner how he may work in safety, even
amid the explosive fire-damp of the mine. She has, by her
anesthetics, enabled the sufferer to be hushed and unconscious
while the delicate hand of some skilled operator cuts a fragment
from the nervous circle of the unquivering eye. She points not
to pyramids built during weary centuries by the sweat of miser
able nations, but to the lighthouse and the steamship, to the rail
road and the telegraph. She has restored eyes to the blind and
hearing to the deaf. She has lengthened life, she has minimized
danger, she has controlled madness, she has trampled on disease."

And this is but the beginning — these are merely the incidental
achievements of a power destined to convert the present material
civilization into a moral one. If civilization is one-sided and
materialistic it is only because science lias not yet taken posses
sion of her legitimate province — morality. When she does, the
moral civilization of the future will have dawned, and the long
night of dogma will be over. Mankind have always hoped for
happiness, and they have hoped in vain. If they will but follow
common sense their hope, by fulfilment, will be converted into
expectation. Science will solve the problem which metaphysics
and theology have tried but failed to solve, and unlike her prede
cessors she will not be satisfied to offer a pain-ridden world those
empty substitutes for a solution —

"That keep the word of promise to our ear,
And break it to our hope."

Morality is the last citadel of the dynasty of dogma. That
citadel once captured by common sense, truth will replace un
truth and right will replace wrong Men will at last be free to
seek the one eternal aspiration of the human heart, unappalk
bv the hideous idols of ignorance and asceticism, and un-
enthralled by the stolid custodians of imperial or sacerdotal
authority, whose combined power has wrought the tragedy c
history Suffering will no longer be the portion _ of sentience,
and the morality of happiness will rule the conscience and the
conduct of mankind, world without end.

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