Icarus or The Future of Science
I. Introductory
Mr. Haldane's Daedalus has set
forth an attractive picture of the future as it may become through the use of
scientific discoveries to promote human happiness. Much as I should like to agree
with his forecast, a long experience of statesmen and government has made me somewhat
sceptical. I am compelled to fear that science will be used to promote the power
of dominant groups, rather than to make men happy. Icarus, having been taught
to fly by his father Daedalus, was destroyed by his rashness. I fear that the
same fate may overtake the populations whom modern men of science have taught
to fly. Some of the dangers inherent in the progress of science while we retain
our present political and economic institutions are set forth in the following
pages.
This subject is so vast that it is impossible,
within a limited space, to do more than outline some of its aspects. The world
in which we live differs profoundly from that of Queen Anne's time, and this
difference is mainly attributable to science. That is to say, the difference
would be very much less than it is but for various scientific discoveries, but
resulted from those discoveries by the operation of ordinary human nature. The
changes that have been brought about have been partly good, partly bad; whether,
in the end, science will prove to have been a blessing or a curse to mankind,
is to my mind, still a doubtful question.
A science may affect human life in two
different ways. On the one hand, without altering men's passions or their general
outlook, it may increase their power of gratifying their desires. On the other
hand, it may operate through an effect upon the imaginative conception of the
world, the theology or philosophy which is accepted in practice by energetic
men. The latter is a fascinating study, but I shall almost wholly ignore it,
in order to bring my subject within a manageable compass. I shall confine myself
almost wholly to the effect of science in enabling us to gratify our passions
more freely, which has hitherto been far the more important of the two.
From our point of view, we may divide
the sciences into three groups: physical, biological, and anthropological. In
the physical group I include chemistry, and broadly speaking any science concerned
with the properties of matter apart from life. In the anthropological group
I include all studies especially concerned with man: human physiology and psychology
(between which no sharp line can be drawn), anthropology, history, sociology,
and economics. All these studies can be illuminated by considerations drawn
from biology; for instance, Rivers threw a new light on parts of economics by
adducing facts about landed property among birds during the breeding season.
But in spite of their connection with biology --- a connection which is likely
to grow closer as time goes on --- they are broadly distinguished from biology
by their methods and data, and deserve to be grouped apart, at any rate in a
sociological inquiry.
The effect of the biological sciences,
so far, has been very small. No doubt Darwinism and the idea of evolution affected
men's imaginative outlook; arguments were derived in favour of free competition,
and also of nationalism. But these effects were of the sort that I propose not
to consider. It is probable that great effects will come from these sciences
sooner or later. Mendelism might have revolutionized agriculture, and no doubt
some similar theory will do so sooner or later. Bacteriology may enable us to
exterminate our enemies by disease. The study of heredity may in time make eugenics
an exact science, and perhaps we shall in a later age be able to determine at
will the sex of our children. This would probably lead to an excess of males,
involving a complete change in family institutions. But these speculations belong
to the future. I do not propose to deal with the possible future effects of
biology, both because my knowledge of biology is very limited, and because the
subject has been admirably treated by Mr. Haldane.
The anthropological sciences are those
from which, a priori, we might have expected the greatest social effects,
but hitherto this has not proved to be the case, partly because these sciences
are mostly still at an early stage of development. Even economics has not so
far had much effect. Where it has seemed to have, this is because it advocated
what was independently desired. Hitherto, the most effective of the anthropological
sciences has been medicine, through its influence on sanitation and public health,
and through the fact that it has discovered how to deal with malaria and yellow
fever. Birth-control is also a very important social fact which comes into this
category. But although the future effect of the anthropological sciences (to
which I shall return presently) is illimitable, the effect up to the present
has been confined within fairly narrow limits.
One general observation to begin with.
Science has increased man's control over nature, and might therefore be supposed
likely to increase his happiness and well-being. This would be the case if men
were rational, but in fact they are bundles of passions and instincts. An animal
species in a stable environment, if it does not die out, acquires an equilibrium
between its passions and the conditions of its life. If the conditions are suddenly
altered, the equilibrium is upset. Wolves in a state of nature have difficulty
in getting food, and therefore need the stimulus of a very insistent hunger.
The result is that their descendants, domestic dogs, over-eat if they are allowed
to do so. When a certain amount of something is useful, and the difficulty of
obtaining it is diminished, instinct will usually lead an animal to excess in
the new circumstances. The sudden change produced by science has upset the balance
between our instincts and our circumstances, but in directions not sufficiently
noted. Over-eating is not a serious danger, but over-fighting is. The human
instincts of power and rivalry, like the dog's wolfish appetite will need to
be artificially curbed, if industrialism is to succeed.
II. Effects of the Physical Sciences
Much the greatest part of the changes which
science has made in social life is due to the physical sciences, as is evident
when we consider that they brought about the industrial revolution. This is a
trite topic, about which I shall say as little as my subject permits. There are,
however, some points which must be made.
First, industrialism still has great parts
of the earth's surface to conquer. Russia and India are very imperfectly industrialized;
China hardly at all. In South America there is room for immense development.
One of the effects of industrialism is to make the world an economic unit: its
ultimate consequences will be very largely due to this fact. But before the
world can be effectively organized as a unit, it will probably be necessary
to develop industrially all the regions capable of development that are at present
backward. The effects of industrialism change as it becomes more wide-spread;
this must be remembered in any attempt to argue from its past to its future.
The second point about industrialism is
that it increases the productivity of labour, and thus makes more luxuries possible.
At first, in England, the chief luxury achieved was a larger population with
an actual lowering of the standard of life. Then came a golden age when wages
increased, hours of labour diminished, and simultaneously the middle-class grew
more prosperous. That was while Great Britain was still supreme. With the growth
of foreign industrialism, a new epoch began. Industrial organizations have seldom
succeeded in becoming world-wide, and have consequently become national. Competition,
formerly between individual firms, is now mainly between nations, and is therefore
conducted by methods quite different from those contemplated by the classical
economists.
Modern industrialism is a struggle between
nations for two things, markets and raw materials, as well as for the sheer
pleasure of domination. The labour which is set free from providing the necessaries
of life tends to be more and more absorbed by national rivalry. There are first
the armed forces of the State; then those who provide munitions of war, from
the raw minerals up to the finished product; then the diplomatic and consular
services; then the teachers of patriotism in schools; then the Press. All of
these perform other functions as well, but the chief purpose is to minister
to international competition. As another class whose labours are devoted to
the same end, we must add a considerable proportion of the men of science. These
men invent continually more elaborate methods of attack and defence. The net
result of their labours is to diminish the proportion of the population that
can be put into the fighting line, since more are required for munitions. This
might seem a boon, but in fact war is now-a-days primarily against the civilian
population, and in a defeated country they are liable to suffer just as much
as the soldiers.
It is science above all that has determined
the importance of raw materials in international competition. Coal and iron
and oil, especially, are the bases of power, and thence of wealth. The nation
which possesses them, and has the industrial skill required to utilize them
in war, can acquire markets by armed force, and levy tribute upon less fortunate
nations. Economists have underestimated the part played by military prowess
in the acquisition of wealth. The landed aristocracies of Europe were, in origin,
warlike invaders. Their defeat by the bourgeoisie in the French Revolution,
and the fear which this generated in the Duke of Wellington, facilitated the
rise of the middle class. The wars of the eighteenth century decided that England
was to be richer than France. The traditional economist's rules for the distribution
of wealth hold only when men's actions are governed by law, i. e. when most
people think the issue unimportant. The issues that people have considered vital
have been decided by civil war or wars between nations. And for the present,
owing to science, the art of war consists in possessing coal, iron, oil, and
the industrial skill to work them. For the sake of simplicity, I omit other
raw materials, since they do not affect the essence of our problem.
We may say, therefore, speaking very generally,
that men have used the increased productivity which they owe to science for
three chief purposes in succession: first, to increase the population; then,
to raise the standard of comfort; and, finally, to provide more energy to war.
This last result has been chiefly brought about by competition for markets,
which led to competition for raw materials, especially the raw materials of
munitions.
III. The Increase of Organization
The stimulation of nationalism which has taken
place in modern times is, however, due very largely to another factor, namely
the increase of organization, which is of the very essence of industrialism. Wherever
expensive fixed capital is required, organization, on a large scale is of course
necessary. In view of the economies of large scale production, organization in
marketing also becomes of great importance. For some purposes, if not for all,
many industries come to be organized nationally, so as to be in effect one business
in each nation.
Science has not only brought about the
need for large organizations, but also the technical possibility of their existence.
Without railways, telegraphs and telephones, control from a centre is very difficult.
In ancient empires, and in China down to modern times, provinces were governed
by practically independent satraps or proconsuls, who were appointed by the
central government, but decided almost all questions on their own initiative.
If they displeased the sovereign, they could only be controlled by civil war,
of which the issue was doubtful. Until the invention of the telegraph, ambassadors
had a great measure of independence, since it was often necessary to act without
waiting for orders from home. What applied in politics applied also in business:
an organization controlled from the centre had to be very loosely knit, and
to allow much autonomy to subordinates. Opinion as well as action was difficult
to mould from a centre, and local variations marred the uniformity of party
creeds.
Now-a-days all this is changed. Telegraph,
telephone, and wireless make it easy to transmit orders from a centre: railways
and steamers make it easy to transport troops in case the orders are disobeyed.
Modern methods of printing and advertising make it enormously cheaper to produce
and distribute one newspaper with a large circulation than many with small circulations;
consequently, in so far as the Press controls opinion, there is uniformity,
and, in particular, there is uniformity of news. Elementary education, except
in so far as religious denominations introduce variety, is conducted on a uniform
pattern decided by the State, by means of teachers whom the State has trained,
as far as possible, to imitate the regularity and mutual similarity of machines
produced to standard. Thus the material and psychological conditions for a great
intensity of organization have increased pari passu, but the basis
of the whole development is scientific invention in the purely physical realm.
Increased productivity has played its part, by making it possible to set apart
more labour for propaganda, under which head are to be included advertisement,
the cinema, the Press, education, politics, and religion. Broadcasting is a
new method likely to acquire great potency as soon as people are satisfied that
it is not a method of propaganda.
Political controversies, as Mr. Graham
Wallas has pointed out, ought to be conducted in quantitative terms. If sociology
were one of the sciences that had affected social institutions (which it is
not), this would be the case. The dispute between anarchism and bureaucracy
at present tends to take the form of one side maintain that we want no organization,
while the other maintains that we want as much as possible. A person imbued
with the scientific spirit would hardly even examine these extreme positions.
Some people think that we keep our rooms too hot for health, others that we
keep them too cold. If this were a political question, one party would maintain
that the best temperature is the absolute zero, the other that it is the melting
point of iron. Those who maintained any intermediate position would be abused
as timorous time-servers, concealed agents of the other side, men who ruined
the enthusiasm of a sacred cause by tepid appeals to mere reason. Any man who
had the courage to say that our rooms ought to be neither very hot nor very
cold would be abused by both parties, and probably shot in No Man's Land. Possibly
some day politics may become more rational, but so far there is not the faintest
indication of a change in this direction.
To a rational mind, the question is not:
Do we want organization or do we not? The question is: How much organization
do we want, and where and when and of what kind? In spite of a temperamental
leaning to anarchism, I am persuaded that an industrial world cannot maintain
itself against internal disruptive forces without a great deal more organization
than we have at present. It is not the amount of organization, buts its kind
and its purpose, that causes our troubles. But before tackling this question,
let us pause for a moment to ask ourselves what is the measure of the intensity
of organization in a given community.
A man's acts are partly determined by
spontaneous impulse, partly by the conscious or unconscious effects of the various
groups to which he belongs. A man who works (say) on a railway or in a mine,
is, in his working hours almost entirely determined in his actions by those
who direct the collective labour of which he forms part. If he decides to strike,
his action is again not individual, but determined by his Union. When he votes
for Parliament, party caucuses have limited his choice to one of two or three
men, and party propaganda has induced him to accept in toto one of
two or three blocks of opinions which form the rival party programmes. His choice
between the parties may be individual, but it may also be determined by the
action of some group, such as a trade union, which collectively supports one
party. His newspaper-reading exposes him to great organized forces; so does
the cinema, if he goes to it. His choice of a wife is probably spontaneous,
except that he must choose a woman of his own class. But in the education of
his children he is almost entirely powerless: they must have the education which
is provided. Organization thus determines many vital things in his life. Compare
him to a handicraftsman or peasant-proprietor who cannot read and does not have
his children educated, and it becomes clear what is meant by saying that industrialism
has increased the intensity of organization. To defines this term we must, I
think, exclude the unconscious effects of groups, except as causes facilitating
the conscious effects. We may define the intensity of organization to which
a given individual is subject as the proportion of his acts which is determined
by the orders or advice of some group, expressed through democratic decisions
or executive officers. The intensity of organization in a community may then
be defined as the average intensity for its several members.
The intensity of organization is increased
not only when a man belongs to more organizations, but also when the organizations
to which he already belongs play a larger part in his life, as, for example,
the State plays a larger part in war than in peace.
Another matter which needs to be treated
quantitatively is the degree of democracy, oligarchy, or monarchy in an organization.
No organization belongs completely to any one of the three types. There must
be executive officers, who will often in practice be able to decide policy,
even if in theory they cannot do so. And even if their power depends upon persuasion,
they may so completely control the relevant publicity that they can always rely
upon a majority. The directors of a railway company, for instance, are to all
intents and purposes uncontrolled by the shareholders, who have no adequate
means of organizing an opposition if they should wish to do so. In America,
a railroad president is almost a monarch. In party politics, the power of leaders,
although it depends upon persuasion, continually increases as printed propaganda
becomes more important. For these reasons, even where formal democracy increases,
the real degree of democratic control tends to diminish, except on a few questions
which rouse strong popular passions.
The result of these causes is that, in
consequence of scientific inventions which facilitate centralization and propaganda,
groups become more organized, more disciplined, more group-conscious and more
docile to leaders. The effect of leaders on followers is increased, and the
control of events by a few prominent personalities becomes more marked.
In all this there would be nothing very
tragic, but for the fact, with which science has nothing to do, that organization
is almost wholly national. If men were actuated by the love of gain, as the
older economists supposed, this would not be the case; the same causes which
have led to national trusts would have led to international trusts. This has
happened in a few instances, but not on a sufficiently wide scale to affect
politics or economics very vitally. Rivalry is, with most well-to-do energetic
people, a stronger motive than love of money. Successful rivalry requires organization
of rival forces; the tendency is for a business such as oil, for example, to
organize itself into two rival groups, between them covering the world. They
might, of course, combine, and they would no doubt increase their wealth if
they did so. But combination would take the zest out of life. The object of
a football team, one might say, is to kick goals. If two rival teams combined,
and kicked the ball alternately over the two goals, many more goals would be
scored. Nevertheless no one suggest that this should be done, the object of
a football team being not to kick goals but to win. So the object of a big business
is not to make money, but to win in the contest with some other business. If
there were no other business to be defeated, the whole thing would become uninteresting.
This rivalry has attached itself to nationalism, and enlisted the support of
the ordinary citizens of the countries concerned; they seldom know what it is
that they are supporting, but, like the spectators at a football-match, they
grow enthusiastic for their own side. The harm that is being done by science
and industrialism is almost wholly due to the fact that, while they have proved
strong enough to produce a national organization of economic forces,
they have not proved strong enough to produce an international organization.
It is clear that political internationalism such as the League of Nations was
supposed to inaugurate, will never be successful until we have economic internationalism,
which would require, as a minimum, an agreement between various national organizations
dividing among them the raw material and markets of the world. This, however,
can hardly be brought about while big business is controlled by men who are
so rich as to have grown indifferent to money, and to be willing to risk enormous
losses for the pleasure of rivalry.
The increase of organization in the modern
world has made the ideals of liberalism wholly inapplicable. Liberalism, from
Monteqsuieu to President Wilson, was based upon the assumption of a number of
more or less equal individuals or groups, with no differences so vital that
they were willing to die sooner than compromise. It was supposed that there
was to be free competition between individuals and between ideas. Experience
has shown, however, that the existing economic system is incompatible with all
forms of free competition except between States by means of armaments. I should
wish, for my part, to preserve free competition between ideas, though not between
individuals and groups, but this is only possible by means of what an old-fashioned
liberal would regard as interferences with personal liberty. So long as the
sources of economic power remain in private hands, there will be no liberty
except for the few who control those sources.
Such liberal ideals as free trade, free
press, unbiased educated, either already belong to the past or soon will do
so. One of the triumphs of early liberalism in England was the establishment
of parliamentary control of the army; this was the casus belli in the
Civil War, and was decided by the Revolution of 1688. It was effective so long
as Parliament represented the same class from which army officers were drawn.
This was still the case with the late Parliament, but may cease to be the case
with the advent of a Labour Government. Russia, Hungary, Italy, Spain and Bavaria
have shown in recent years how frail democracy has become; east of the Rhine
it lingers only in outlying regions. Constitutional control over armaments must,
therefore, be regarded as another liberal principle which is rapidly becoming
obsolete.
It would seem probable that, in the next
fifty years or so, we shall see a still further increase in the power of governments,
and a tendency for governments to be such as are desired by the men who control
armaments and raw materials. The forms of democracy may survive in western countries,
since those who possess military and economic power can control education and
the press, and therefore can usually secure a subservient democracy. Rival economic
groups will presumably remain associated with rival nations, and will foster
nationalism in order to recruit their football teams.
There is, however, a hopeful element in
the problem. The planet is of finite size, but the most efficient size for an
organization is continually increased by new scientific inventions. The world
becomes more and more of an economic unity. Before very long the technical conditions
will exist for organizing the whole world as one producing and consuming unit.
If, when that time comes, two rival groups contend for mastery, the victor may
be able to introduce that single world-wide organization that is needed to prevent
the mutual extermination of civilized nations. The world which would result
would be, at first, very different from the dreams of either liberals or socialists;
but it might grow less different with the lapse of time. There would be at first
economic and political tyranny of the victors, a dread of renewed upheavals,
and therefore a drastic suppression of liberty. But if the first half-dozen
revolts were successfully repressed, the vanquished would give up hope, and
accept the subordinate place assigned to them by the victors in the great world-trust.
As soon as the holders of power felt secure, they would grow less tyrannical
and less energetic. The motive of rivalry being removed, they would not work
so hard as they do now, and would soon cease to exact such hard work from their
subordinates. Life at first might be unpleasant, but it would at least be possible,
which would be enough to recommend the system after a long period of warfare.
Given a stable world-organization, economic and political, even if, at first,
it rested upon nothing but armed force, the evils which now threaten civilization
would gradually diminish, and a more thorough democracy than that which now
exists might become possible. I believe that, owing to men's folly, a world-government
will only be established by force, and therefore be at first cruel and despotic.
But I believe that it is necessary for the preservation of a scientific civilization,
and that, if once realized, it will gradually give rise to the other conditions
of a tolerable existence.
IV. The Anthropological Sciences
It remains to say something about the future
effects of the anthropological sciences. This is of course extremely conjectural,
because we do not know what discoveries will be made. The effect is likely to
be far greater than we can now imagine, because these sciences are still in their
infancy. I will, however, take a few points on which to hang conjectures. I do
not wish to be supposed to be making prophecies: I am only suggesting possibilities
which it may be instructive to consider.
Birth-control is a matter of great importance,
particularly in relation to the possibility of a world-government, which could
hardly be stable if some nations increased their population much more rapidly
than others. At present, birth-control is increasing in all civilized countries,
though in most it is opposed by governments. This opposition is due partly to
mere superstition and desire to conciliate the Catholic vote, partly to the
desire for large armies and severe competition between wage-earners, so as to
keep down wages. In spite of the opposition of governments, it seems probable
that birth-control will lead to a stationary population in most white nations
within the next fifty years. There can be no security that it will stop with
a stationary population; it may go on to the point where the population diminishes.
The increase in the practice of birth-control
is an example of a process contrary to that seen in industrialism: it represents
a victory of individual over collective passions. Collectively, Frenchmen desire
that France should be populous, in order to be able to defeat her enemies in
war. Individually, they desire that their own families should be small, in order
to increase the inheritance of their children and to diminish the expense of
education. The individual desire has triumphed over the collective desire, and
even, in many cases, over religious scruples. In this case, as in most others,
the individual desire is less harmful to the world than the collective desire:
the man who acts from pure selfishness does less damage than the man who is
actuated by ``public spirit.'' For, since medicine and sanitation have diminished
the infant death-rate, the only checks to over-population that remain (apart
from birth-control) are war and famine. So long as this continues to be the
case, the world must either have a nearly stationary population, or employ war
to produce famine. The latter method, which is that favoured by opponents of
birth-control, has been adopted on a large scale since 1914; it is however somewhat
wasteful. We require a certain number of cattle and sheep, and we take steps
to secure the right number. If we were as indifferent about them as we are about
human beings, we should produce far too many, and cause the surplus to die by
the slow misery of under-feeding. Farmers would consider this plan extravagant,
and humanitarians would consider it cruel. But where human beings are concerned,
it is considered the only proper course, and works advocating any other are
confiscated by the police if they are intelligible to those whom they concern.
It must be admitted, however, that there
are certain dangers. Before long the population may actually diminish. This
is already happening in the most intelligent sections of the most intelligent
nations; government opposition to birth-control propaganda gives a biological
advantage to stupidity, since it is chiefly stupid people who governments succeed
in keeping in ignorance. Before long, birth-control may become nearly universal
among the white races; it will then not deteriorate their quality, but only
diminish their numbers, at a time when uncivilized races are still prolific
and are preserved from a high death-rate by white science.
This situation will lead to a tendency
--- already shown by the French --- to employ more prolific races as mercenaries.
Governments will oppose the teaching of birth-control among Africans, for fear
of losing recruits. The result will be an immense numerical inferiority of the
white races, leading probably to their extermination in a mutiny of mercenaries.
If, however, a world-government is established, it may see the desirability
of making subject races also less prolific, and may permit mankind to solve
the population question. This is another reason for desiring a world-government.
Passing from quantity to quality of population,
we come to the question of eugenics. We may perhaps assume that, if people grow
less superstitious, government will acquire the right to sterilize those who
are not considered desirable as parents. This power will be used, at first,
to diminish imbecility, a most desirable object. But probably, in time, opposition
to the government will be taken to prove imbecility, so that rebels of all kinds
will be sterilized. Epileptics, consumptives, dipsomaniacs and so on will gradually
be included; in the end, there will be a tendency to include all who fail to
pass the usual school examinations. The result will be to increase the average
intelligence; in the long run, it may be greatly increased. But probably the
effect upon really exceptional intelligence will be bad. Mr. Micawber, who was
Dickens's father, would hardly have been regarded as a desirable parent. How
many imbeciles ought to outweigh one Dickens I do not profess to know.
Eugenics has, of course, more ambitious
possibilities in a more distant future. It may aim not only at eliminating undesired
types, but at increasing desired types. Moral standards may alter so as to make
it possible for one man to be the sire of a vast progeny by many different mothers.
When men of science envisage a possibility of this kind, they are prone to a
type of fallacy which is common also in other directions. They imagine that
a reform inaugurated by men of science would be administered as men of science
would wish, by men similar in outlook to those who have advocated it. In like
manner women who advocated votes for women used to imagine that the woman voter
of the future would resemble the ardent feminist who won her the vote; and socialist
leaders imagine that a socialist State would be administered by idealistic reformers
like themselves. These are, of course, delusions; a reform, once achieved, is
handed over to the average citizen. So, if eugenics reached the point where
it could increase desired types, it would not be the types desired by present-day
eugenists that would be increased, but rather the type desired by the average
official. Prime Ministers, Bishops, and others whom the State considers desirable
might become the fathers of half the next generation. Whether this would be
an improvement it is not for me to say, as I have no hope of ever becoming either
a Bishop or a Prime Minister.
If we knew enough about heredity to determine,
within limits, what sort of population we would have, the matter would of course
be in the hands of State officials, presumably elderly medical men. Whether
they would really be preferable to Nature I do not feel sure. I suspect that
they would breed a subservient population, convenient to rulers but incapable
of initiative. However, it may be that I am too sceptical of the wisdom of officials.
The effects of psychology on practical
life may in time become very great. Already advertisers in America employ eminent
psychologists to instruct them in the technique of producing irrational belief;
such men may, when they have grown more proficient, be very useful in persuading
the democracy that governments are wise and good. Then, again, there are the
psychological tests of intelligence, as applied to recruits for the American
army during the war. I am very sceptical of the possibility of testing anything
except average intelligence by such methods, and I think that, if they were
widely adopted, they would probably lead to many persons of great artistic capacity
being classified as morons. The same thing would have happened to some first-rate
mathematicians. Specialized ability not infrequently goes with general disability,
but this would not be shown by the kind of tests which psychologists recommend
to the American government.
More sensational than tests of intelligence
is the possibility of controlling the emotional life through the secretions
of the ductless glands. It will be possible to make people choleric or timid,
strongly or weakly sexed, and so on, as may be desired. Differences of emotional
disposition seem to be chiefly due to secretions of the ductless glands, and
therefore controllable by injections or by increasing or diminishing the secretions.
Assuming an oligarchic organization of society, the State could give to the
children of holders of power the disposition required for command, and to the
children of the proletariat the disposition required for obedience. Against
the injections of the State physicians the most eloquent Socialist oratory would
be powerless. The only difficulty would be to combine this submissiveness with
the necessary ferocity against external enemies; but I do not doubt that official
science would be equal to the task.
It is not necessary, when we are considering
political consequences, to pin our faith to the particular theories of the ductless
glands, which may blow over, like other theories. All that is essential in our
hypothesis is the belief that physiology will in time find ways of controlling
emotion, which it is scarcely possible to doubt. When that day comes we shall
have the emotions desired by our rulers, and the chief business of elementary
education will be to produce the desired disposition, no longer by punishment
or moral precept, but by the far surer method of injection or diet. The men
who will administer this system will have a power beyond the dreams of the Jesuits,
but there is no reason to suppose that they will have more sense than the men
who control education to-day. Technical scientific knowledge does not make men
sensible in their aims, and administrators in the future, will be presumably
no less stupid and no less prejudiced than they are at present.
CONCLUSION
It may seem as though I had been at once gloomy
and frivolous in some of my prognostications. I will end, however, with the serious
lesson which seems to me to result. Men sometimes speak as though the progress
of science must necessarily be a boon to mankind, but that, I fear, is one of
the comfortable nineteenth-century delusions which our more disillusioned age
must discard. Science enables the holders of power to realize their purposes more
fully than they could otherwise do. If their purposes are good, this is a gain;
if they are evil, it is a loss. In the present age, it seems that the purposes
of the holders of power are in the main evil, in the sense that they involve a
diminution, in the world at large, of the things men are agreed in thinking good.
Therefore, at present, science does harm by increasing the power of rulers. Science
is no substitute for virtue; the heart is as necessary for a good life as the
head.
If men were rational in their conduct,
that is to say, if they acted in the way most likely to bring about the ends
that they deliberately desire, intelligence would be enough to make the world
almost a paradise. In the main, what is in the long run advantageous to one
man is also advantageous to another. But men are actuated by passions which
distort their view; feeling an impulse to injure others, they persuade themselves
that it is to their interest to do so. They will not, therefore, act in the
way that is in fact to their own interest unless they are actuated by generous
impulses which make them indifferent to their own interest. This is why the
heart is as important as the head. By the ``heart'' I mean, for the moment,
the sum-total of kindly impulses. Where they exist, science helps them to be
effective; where they are absent, science only makes men more cleverly diabolic.
It may be laid down as a general principle
to which there are few exceptions that, when people are mistaken as to what
is to their own interest, the course they believe to be wise is more harmful
to others than the course that really is wise. There are innumerable examples
of men making fortunes because, on moral grounds, they did something which they
believed to be contrary to their own interests. For instance, among early Quakers
there were a number of shopkeepers, who adopted the practice of asking no more
for their goods than they were willing to accept, instead of bargaining with
each customer, as everybody else did. They adopted this practice because they
held it to be a lie to ask more than they would take. But the convenience to
customers was so great that everybody came to their shops and they grew rich.
(I forget where I read this, but if my memory serves me it was in some reliable
source.) The same policy might have been adopted from shrewdness, but
in fact no one was sufficiently shrewd. Our unconscious is more malevolent than
it pays us to be; therefore the people who do most completely what is in fact
to their interest are those who, on moral grounds, do what they believe to be
against their interest.
For this reason, it is of the greatest
importance to inquire whether any method of strengthening kindly impulses exists.
I have no doubt that their strength or weakness depends upon discoverable physiological
causes; let us assume that it depends upon the glands. If so, an international
secret society of physiologists could bring about the millennium by kidnapping,
on a given day, all the rulers of the world, and injecting into their blood
some substance which would fill them with benevolence towards their fellow-creatures.
Suddenly M. Poincare would wish well to Ruhr miners, Lord Curzon to Indian nationalists,
Mr. Smuts to the natives of what was German South West Africa, the American
government to its political prisoners and its victims in Ellis Island. But alas,
the physiologists would first have to administer the love-philtre to themselves
before they would undertake such a task. Otherwise, they would prefer to win
titles and fortunes by injecting military ferocity into recruits. And so we
come back to the old dilemma: only kindliness can save the world, and even if
we knew how to produce kindliness we should not do so unless we were already
kindly. Failing that, it seems that the solution which the Houynhnms adopted
towards the Yahoos, namely extermination, is the only one; apparently the Yahoos
are bent on applying it to each other.
We may sum up this discussion in a few
words. Science has not given men more self-control, more kindliness, or more
power of discounting their passions in deciding upon a course of action. It
has given communities more power to indulge their collective passions, but,
by making society more organic, it has diminished the part played by private
passions. Men's collective passions are mainly evil; far the strongest of them
are hatred and rivalry directed towards other groups. Therefore at present all
that gives men power to indulge their collective passions is bad. That is why
science threatens to cause the destruction of our civilization. The only solid
hope seems to lie in the possibility of world-wide domination by one group,
say the United States, leading to the gradual formation of an orderly economic
and political world-government. But perhaps, in view of the sterility of the
Roman Empire, the collapse of our civilization would in the end be preferable
to this alternative.
On
Denoting (1905)
Vagueness (1923)
Icarus
or The Future of Science (1924)
What is an Agnostic
Knowledge and
Wisdom
Why I am
not a Christian (06.03.1927)
In
Praise of Idleness (1932)
Of Co-Operation
(18.05.1932)
On Sales Resistance
(22.06.1932)
On Modern
Uncertainty (20.07.1932)
What is the Soul?
(28.09.1932)
On youthful
Cynism (1930)
Philosophical
Consequences of Relativity (1626)
On Astrologers
How
to become a Man of Genius
Education
and Disciple
What
Desires are politically important? (Speech at the Nobel Award, 11.12.1950)
Prolog to his Autobiography: What
I have lived for