Henry George — A Perplexed
Philosopher
Part II—Repudiation (continued)
Chapter V — Second Letter To The Times.
In his letter to the Times Mr. Spencer had surely abased himself
enough to have been let alone by those whose favor he had so dearly sought.
But even
those who profit by apostasy often like to show their contempt for the apostate.
Though the Times itself accepted his apology, it added some contemptuous reproof,
and gave place to letters from Mr. Greenwood, Professor Huxley and Sir Louis
Mallet that must have been extremely galling to a renowned philosopher.
Here is the pertinent part of what the Times said.
So, without denying that he did once say something of the
sort, he explains that it was forty years ago, that for the last fifteen
years he has been
doing all he can to suppress the book in which he said it, and that he never
meant
his words to have any bearing upon practical questions. He was in fact
engaged in constructing a system of "absolute political ethics, or that
which ought to be," and he feels distinctly aggrieved by the transfer
of his opinions from that transcendental sphere to the very different one
in which
Mr. Laidler and his friends are accustomed to dwell. … What Mr. Spencer
said in his youth and inexperience he has unsaid in his maturer years and
with more deliberate judgment …
Were we asked to point a moral for philosophers, we should
bid them beware of meddling with the absolute. Forty years ago Mr. Spencer
set forth in
search of "absolute political ethics," and constructed his system
to his own satisfaction. But it turns out to have been the most relative
of things
after all, since for the last fifteen years it has ceased to be absolute
even to the mind that conceived it … Mr. Spencer settled that which
ought to be, as regards landownership, but a quarter of a century later we
find
him endeavoring, much to the credit of his modesty and candor, to suppress
his
own version of the absolute. He does not seem, however, to have abandoned
the original quest, for he gives us his revised conclusions as to the
absolute ethics
of land tenure, which appear to us to contain some of the original identical
flaws which were to be found in the older version.
The communication from Mr. Frederick Greenwood, an able high-Tory journalist,
was published by the Times on the 9th, under the heading "A Caution to
Social Philosophers." Characterizing Mr. Spencer's letter to the Times as "a heavy lesson to political philosophers," Mr. Greenwood points
out that "no matter how sorry Mr. Spencer may be for having misled so
many poor men who habitually hang on the authority of great men like himself," yet
the very quotation he makes from his Political Institutions contains the same
seeds of error in its admission that "ownership established by force does
not stand on the same footing as ownership established by contract," and
in its admission that "the assimilation of the two ownerships may eventually
be denied."
Sir Louis Mallet's letter, published on November 11 was to similar effect.
He pointed out that Mr. Spencer still admitted an analogy between private property
in land and slavery, which, of course, to Sir Louis seemed dangerous and wicked.
Professor Huxley came at the philosopher in a bullheaded way that must have
seemed very unkind. Speaking in the name of those "to whom absolute political
ethics and a priori politics are alike stumbling-blocks," and expressing
the certainty that his friend, Mr. Spencer, would be the last person willingly
to abet the tendency to sanction popular acts of injustice by antiquarian or
speculative arguments, he asked him for a categorical answer to the question
whether according to "absolute political ethics" A. B., who has bought
a piece of land in England, as he might buy a cabbage, has a moral as well
as a legal right to his land or not?
And he follows with these pertinent questions:
If he does not, how does "absolute political ethics" deduce
his right to compensation?
If he does, how does "absolute political ethics" deduce
the state's right to disturb him?
By this time Mr. Spencer must have wished he had not written to the Times,
though it is a striking evidence of the little knowledge of Social Statics in
England (a fact on which Mr. Spencer had evidently calculated), that in none
of these letters, or in those that followed, do any of the "hecklers," with
the one exception of Mr. Laidler, seem to have any knowledge of what Mr. Spencer
had really said in that book — a knowledge that would have roused their
ire to a far higher pitch, and enabled them to ask still harder questions.
The reader may wonder why in an attempt to deny his utterances in Social
Statics, Mr. Spencer should have printed the passage from Political Institutions,
which is in reality a reaffirmation of them. The only explanation I can offer
is that he felt that he must print something, and had absolutely nothing else
to print. For there is no word in all his works up to this time (Justice being
yet to come) that gives the slightest evidence of any modification of the views
set forth in Social Statics. And since he had six years before successfully
referred to this passage, as though it indicated a modification of his views,
he probably felt safe in so using it a second time. Thinking that it would
suffice to settle Mr. Laidler, he evidently did not calculate on its provoking
a "fire in the rear," from his own friends, the adherents of landlordism,
when he was giving up everything real, and only striving to save a semblance
of consistency.
Mr. Spencer conveniently ignored the letters of Mr. Greenwood and Sir Louis
Mallet, but he did make a pretense of answering Professor Huxley, in a letter
published in the Times, November 15.
Here is the letter, which, although the first paragraph only is pertinent
to the task I have in mind, I give in full, in order to guard against Mr. Spencer's
controversial habit of saying that his utterances have been garbled:
To the Editor of the Times.
SIR: As Professor Huxley admits that his friend A. B.'s
title to his plot of land is qualified by the right of the state to dispossess
him if it
sees well—as, by implication, he admits that all landowners hold their land
subject to the supreme ownership of the state, that is, the community — as
he contends that any force or fraud by which land was taken in early days
does not affect the titles of existing owners, and a fortiori does not
affect the
superior title of the community — and as, consequently, he admits
that the community, as supreme owner with a still valid title, may resume
possession
if it thinks well, he seems to me to leave the question standing very much
where it stood; and since he, as I suppose, agrees with me that any such
resumption, should a misjudgment lead to it, ought to be accompanied by
due compensation
for all artificial value given to land, I do not see in what respect we
disagree on the land question. I pass, therefore, to his comments on absolute
political
ethics.
"Your treatment is quite at variance with physiological principles" would
probably be the criticism passed by a modern practitioner on the doings of
a Sangrado, if we suppose one to have survived. "Oh, bother your physiological
principles," might be the reply. "I have got to cure this disease,
and my experience tells me that bleeding and frequent draughts of hot water
are needed." "Well," would be the rejoinder, "if you
do not kill your patient, you will at any rate greatly retard his recovery,
as
you would probably be aware had you read Professor Huxley's Lessons
on Elementary Physiology, and the more elaborate books on the subject which
medical students
have to master."
This imaginary conversation will sufficiently suggest that, before there
can be rational treatment of a disordered state of the bodily functions, there
must be a conception of what constitutes their ordered state: knowing what
is abnormal implies knowing what is normal. That Professor Huxley recognizes
this truth is, I suppose, proved by the inclusion of physiology in that course
of medical education which he advocates. If he says that abandonment of the
Sangrado treatment was due, not to the teachings of physiology, but to knowledge
empirically gained, then I reply that if he expands this statement so as to
cover all improvements in medical treatment he suicidally rejects the teaching
of physiological principles as useless.
Without insisting upon that analogy between a society and
an organism which results from the interdependence of parts performing
different functions — though
I believe he recognizes this — I think he will admit that conception
of a social state as disordered implies conception of an ordered social
state.
We may fairly assume that, in these modern days at least, all legislation
aims at a better; and the conception of a better is not possible without
conception
of a best. If there is rejoicing because certain diseases have been diminished
by precautions enforced, the implied ideal is a state in which these diseases
have been extinguished. If particular measures are applauded because they
have decreased criminality, the implication is that the absence of all
crime is
a desideratum. Hence, however much a politician may pooh-pooh social ideals,
he cannot take steps toward bettering the social state without tacitly
entertaining them. And though he may regard absolute political ethics as
an airy vision,
he makes bit by bit reference to it in everything he does. I simply differ
from him in contending for a consistent and avowed reference, instead of
an inconsistent and unacknowledged reference.
Even without any such strain on the imagination as may
be required to conceive a community consisting entirely of honest and honorable
men — even without
asking whether there is riot a set of definite limits to individual actions
which such men would severally insist upon and respect — even without
asserting that these limits must, in the nature of things, result when
men have severally
to carry on their lives in proximity with one another, I should have thought
it sufficiently clear that our system of justice, by interdicting, murder,
assault, theft, libel, etc., recognizes the existence of such limits and
the necessity for maintaining them; and I should have thought it manifest
enough
that there must exist an elaborate system of limits or restraints on conduct,
by conformity to which citizens may cooperate without dissension. Such
a system, deduced as it may be from the primary conditions to be fulfilled,
is what I
mean by absolute political ethics. The complaint of Professor Huxley that
absolute political ethics does not show us what to do in each concrete
case seems to
be much like the complaint of a medical practitioner who should speak slightingly
of physiological generalizations, because they did not tell him the right
dressing for a wound or how best to deal with varicose veins. I cannot
here explain
further, but any one who does not understand me may find the matter discussed
at length in a chapter on Absolute and Relative Ethics contained in The
Data of Ethics.
It appears to me somewhat anomalous that Professor Huxley,
who is not simply a biologist but is familiar with science at large, and
who must recognize
the reign of law on every hand, should tacitly assume that there exists one
group
of lawless phenomena — social phenomena. For if they are not lawless — if
there are any natural laws traceable throughout them, then our aim should
be to ascertain these and conform to them, well knowing that nonconformity
will
inevitably bring penalties. Not taking this view, however, it would seem
as though Professor Huxley agrees with the mass of "practical" politicians,
who think that every legislative measure is to be decided by estimation
of probabilities unguided by a priori conclusions. Well, had they habitually
succeeded,
one might not wonder that they should habitually ridicule abstract principles;
but the astounding accumulation of failures might have been expected to
cause less confidence in empirical methods. Of the 18,110 public Acts passed
between
20 Henry III. and the end of 1872, Mr. Janson, Vice-President of the Law
Society, estimates that four-fifths have been wholly or partially repealed,
and that
in the years 1870-72 there were repealed 3532 Acts, of which 2759 were
totally repealed. Further, I myself found, on examining the books for 1881-83,
that
in those years there had been repealed 650 Acts belonging to the present
reign, besides many of preceding reigns. Remembering that Acts which are
repealed
have been doing mischief, which means loss, trouble, pain to great numbers — remembering,
thus, the enormous amount of suffering which this helter-skelter legislation
has inflicted for generations and for centuries, I think it would not be
amiss to ask whether better guidance may not be had, oven though it should
come from
absolute political ethics.
I regret that neither space nor health will permit me to discuss any of the
questions raised by Sir Louis Mallet. And here, indeed, I find myself compelled
to desist altogether. In so far as I am concerned, the controversy must end
with this letter. I am, etc.,
HERBERT SPENCER.
ATHENÆUM CLUB, Nov. 13.
Really, this "Answer to Professor Huxley" is no answer at all.
What Mr. Spencer virtually says is. "I admit all that the landowners may
want me to admit. Let us change the subject."
Yet even in thus changing the subject, he is obliged to give up the distinction
he had made between absolute political ethics and relative political ethics,
for his longdrawn explanation to Professor Huxley means, if it means anything
at all, that absolute political ethics do have a bearing on practical political
conduct.
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