Copyright © 1996 R.J. Kilcullen
To recapitulate some of the points of Darwin's theory. It is worth distinguishing three things that might be said to have evolved in the history of mankind:
Now according to Darwin, evolution (1) of the human body ceased long ago. Evolution (2) of inherited intellectual and moral capacities continues. The bearers of intellectual capacities conducive to survival and propagation will have more offspring. This is true also, Darwin thinks, of moral capacities. Mill and others held that while certain morally relevant psychological capacities, such as the capacity for sympathy, are inherited, moral capacities such as justice, faithfulness, courage, etc. are acquired during the individual's lifetime. See Mill Collected Works vol.10 (B/1602/A2), pp.240-1, 255-6, 259, 230-1, 126-7. Darwin thought they could be inherited too (see Descent of Man, ch.4, footnote 5). But there is a difficulty: greater courage, faithfulness etc. do not help individuals to survive and have more offspring. Rather the reverse. Darwin dealt with this by saying that the mechanism of the evolution of moral characteristics is not individual struggle for survival, but struggle between groups: an individual's courage etc. helps the group to defeat other groups. He assumes that the group is somehow (his theory could not explain it) the bearer of such characteristics: 'It has been ascertained by agriculturalists that by preserving and breeding from the family of an animal, which when slaughtered was bound to be valuable, the desired character has been obtained' (p.199), and similarly with humans. (Modern genetic theory can account for this.)
But as I pointed out in the last lecture, this theory would predict (a) the selection of characteristics relevant to warfare between groups, (b) the evolution would continue only while warfare continued, and (c) evolution by natural selection could not account for the development of practices of justice and benevolence toward members of other groups. As far as evolution could explain it, human moral development would stop at something like the feudal stage. And of course late 19th century nationalists, militarists, and racists welcomed Darwin's theory as demonstrating the scientific validity of their attitudes.
But Darwin himself was a humanitarian, and looked for a higher morality. 'With highly civilized nations continued progress depends [only] in a subordinate degree on natural selection; for such nations do not supplant and exterminate one another, as do savage tribes... The more efficient causes of progress seem to consist of a good education during youth whilst the brain is impressible, and of a high standard of excellence, inculcated by the ablest and best men, embodied in the law, customs and traditions of the nation, and enforced by public opinion' (p.220). This is pure J.S. Mill. Darwin believes (unlike Mill) that some virtues have become inherited by the earlier process of selection through group conflict, but that further moral development is a matter of culture, of what can be learnt during the individual's lifetime from what is being handed down from previous generations by means other than inheritance. And Darwin does not seem to envisage cultural or social evolution, in the narrow sense, through some mechanism like selection.
Marx and Engels do seem to envisage social evolution: as I suggested in my lecture on Historical Materialism (a part not read out in class), Marx and Engels seem to think that a class, or social fraction, that becomes for any reason the 'bearers' of some superior mode of material production will displace other sections of the population, and will eventually impose forms consistent with, and conducive to, this superior mode of production upon the various elements of the superstructure of this society. This would seem to be a legitimate extension of Darwin's style of thinking, a theory of social evolution through something analogous with natural selection. But Darwin himself and his close associates did not make this extension of their theory. They seem to have held that past what I have called the feudal morality moral progress depends upon education and the influence of 'the ablest and best men' backed by public opinion. (Maybe they were right: even if economically - driven social change does occur [as I'm sure it does], it may not be moral progress, or anything ethically valuable.)
Let us turn now to Darwin's closest intellectual ally, T.H. Huxley. Huxley sharpens and emphasises the distinction between (to use my own terminology) the broad and narrow sense of evolution. Corresponding to what I have called the narrow sense he speaks of selection, natural and artificial; and he says that in modern societies social evolution is not evolution in that sense, 'that progressive modification of civilization which passes by the name of the "evolution of society", is, in fact, a process of an essentially different character, both from that which brings about the evolution of species, in the state of nature [i.e. natural selection], and from that which gives rise to the evolution of varieties, in the state of art' [e.g.. in a garden - the horticulturalists or plant-breeder's selection], p.55. Whether military and industrial struggles between modern nations 'exerts a selective influence upon modern society, and in what direction, are questions not easy to answer. The problem of the effect of military and industrial warfare upon those who wage it is very complicated' (p.54n). Apart from this doubtful possibility, the so-called 'evolution' of civilized society will proceed not by selection, natural or artificial, but by what Huxley called the ethical process, which he contrasts strongly with the cosmic process (i.e.. the process of natural selection). Man is, of course, a product of this cosmic process; but, at least at the civilized stage of human history, we can and should try to escape from this cosmic process. (It will in the end, as entropy increases, reassert itself). He suggests an analogy with gardening: Plants are, originally, the product of the cosmic process. But the gardener builds a wall, shelters his plants from the continued action of nature outside the wall, does not leave them to struggle for existence, and breeds his plants, and cultivates them, in accordance with some ideal. 'If the produce does not satisfy the gardener, it may be made to approach his ideal more closely. Although the struggle for existence may be at an end, the possibility of progress remains' (p 41). The gardener improves the breed of his plants by selection. If human society were like a garden or a stud-farm the ruler might attempt the same thing. But Huxley rejects this project. First, it will not succeed. 'The "points" of a good or of a bad citizen are really far harder to discern than those of a puppy or short-horn calf' (p.46). 'There is no hope that mere human beings will ever possess enough intelligence to select the fittest' (p.53). 'It is fairly probable that the children of a "failure" will receive from their other parent just that little modification of character which makes all the difference' (p.56). Second, the deliberate attempt to breed better humans will destroy the ethical process itself: 'Men who are accustomed to contemplate the active or passive extirpation of the weak, the unfortunate and the superfluous; who justify that conduct on the ground that it has the sanction of the cosmic process, and is the only way of ensuring the progress of the race; who, if they are consistent, must rank medicine among the black arts and count the physician a mischievous preserver of the unfit; on whose matrimonial undertakings the principle of the stud have the chief influence; whose whole lives, therefore, are an education in the noble [irony] art of suppressing natural affection and sympathy, are not likely to have any large stock of these commodities left. But, without them, there is no conscience, nor any restraint on the conduct of men, except the calculation of self-interest, the balancing of certain present gratifications against doubtful future pains; and experience tells us how much that is worth'. (p.55)
The situation, then, is that evolution (in the narrow sense) has developed in mankind certain capacities, such as sympathy and natural affection, necessary for the social life which is necessary to animals such as ourselves (not to all animals). It has not developed, and will not develop as inheritable qualities, higher moral characteristics which we are capable of learning: and the attempt by artificial selection to breed in such characteristics risks destroying the sympathy and natural affection needed for social life (or at least, risks impairing the culture already built on these natural characteristics).
The risk here is especially due to the fact that natural selection has left in men, or even bred into men, certain characteristics inimical to sympathy and affection, so that if anything weakens the latter the former will take over. These other characteristics are the instruct for 'self-assertion, the unscrupulous seizing upon all that can be grasped, the tenacious holding of all that can be kept, which constitute the essence of the struggle of existence' (p.63): human beings could not have evolved at all without such characteristics, and in some measure they will always be needed, whenever existence does require struggle. But obviously they are potentially in conflict with morality, which is a matter not of self-assertion but of self-restraint. So the weakening of sympathy and natural affection risks a revival of destructive self-assertion. (The opposition between the cosmic process and the self-assertion appropriate to it, on the one hand, and morality on the other, is the clue to the organization of Huxley's lecture. The material on Indian and Greek philosophy is there to illustrate that opposition. The Stoics, with their maxim 'live in accordance with nature' are criticised as having tried to obscure the opposition. The Indian philosophers took the opposition to the point that they wished 'to refuse any longer to be the instruments of the evolutionary process, and withdraw from the struggle for existence', to destroy 'the ultimate fundamental desire of self-assertion, or the desire to be' (p.71). Huxley did not advocate opting out. He wished to balance self-assertion against concern for ethical values. J.S. Mill had also tried to strike a balance between self-assertion and altruism. See Mill Collected Works, vol. 10 (B/1602/.A2), pp.335, 337-339.)
According to Huxley, the project of a state or polity like Plato's devoted to breeding better human beings, what in one place he calls 'this pigeon-fancier's polity' (p.47) - remember Darwin's interest in pigeon breeding, as an analogy with natural selection - must therefore be rejected as jeopardizing the level of civilization attained or attainable. 'To return, once more, to the parallel of horticulture. In the modern world, the gardening of men by themselves is practically restricted to the performance, not of selection, but of that other function of the gardener, the creation of conditions more favourable than those of the state of nature; to the end of facilitating the free expansion of the innate faculties of the citizen, so far as it is consistent with the general good' (pp.58-9). Eventually the wall will crumble and the garden will be overrun by nature outside the wall: indeed, the garden, the gardener, the process of gardening are all natural in a broad sense, though artificial, and opposed to nature in a restricted sense; the making of the garden, and its eventual destruction, are a phase of the cosmic process. (There is no such thing as permanently sustainable development.) 'That which lies before the human race is a constant struggle to maintain and improve, in opposition to the State of Nature, the State of Art of an organized polity; in which, and by which, man may develop a worthy civilization, capable of maintaining and constantly improving itself, until the evolution of our globe shall have entered so far upon its downward course [increasing entropy] that the cosmic process resumes its sway; and, once more, the State of Nature prevails over the surface of our planet' (p.60).
A question: what is the source, and what (exactly!) is the content, of the notion of 'a worthy civilization'? of the 'ideal' according to which humans should garden themselves? In one place he indicates its content: 'the free expansion of the innate faculties of the citizen, so far as it is consistent with the general good' (p.59). This was the established 18th-19th century liberal conception of the good society, expressed for example by Immanuel Kant: 'The greatest possible human freedom in accordance with laws by which the freedom of each is made to be consistent with that of all others', Critique of Pure Reason B373. Cf. J.S. Mill On Liberty: no one is to be penalized for doing anything that is not a violation of a (short) list of recognised duties owed to others. See Kilcullen, 'Mill on Duty and Liberty', Australasian Jnl. of Philosophy, 59 (1981), pp.270-300. Since Huxley is an agnostic, and believes that man is as much a part of nature as any weed, I suppose he would want to say that the higher morality is simply an outgrowth of nature. That is, it must embody ideals that recommend themselves to mankind in terms of the morality which the 'cosmic process' has made instinctive. If we suppose that natural selection (operating through group conflict) has made it natural to us to feel sympathy and affection for other members of our group, then perhaps it will somehow seem appropriate to extend this sympathy to other human beings beyond this group, to mankind generally. But how exactly will it come to seem appropriate? Perhaps by some inference, some process of reasoning ('If we care about others of our race, then we should also care about members of other races, because...' - because why?) or perhaps by some psychological process, such as the associations of ideas analysed by James Mill and other utilitarians: but what is the process exactly? Perhaps we can't explain how it has happened, but just know from experience that somehow it has.
If, as I think Huxley would say, the higher morality is an extension of the instinctive morality, and if these instincts are not implanted by God, and are peculiar to the human animal (and different from the instincts we might suppose bees and ants have or would have if they are or were conscious), then what authority does this higher morality have over us (or the instinctive morality, for that matter)? Perhaps this is a pointless question. If it seems to us to be right, then it seems to us to be right, whether or not we think it seems that way to bees and ants. And would morality have more authority if our instincts were implanted by God? Why should we take notice of God? If you answer, because we ought to obey our creator - in fact, if you give any answer at all to the question why ought we to obey God - then there must be at least one moral principle with an authority independent of God, namely the one presupposed to your answer (e.g. that we ought to obey our creator). Otherwise you beg the question, argue in a circle (e.g. if you say that we ought to obey God because he says we should). These were arguments familiar to Huxley and other 19th century thinkers (see for example J.S. Mill Collected Works, vol. 10 (B/1602/.A2), pp.27-29, and Immanuel Kant (supply reference *).
If the higher morality is derived by some natural process (e.g. of reasoning or association) from the instructive morality, then maybe the derivation can take various directions. In fact, it is possible that natural selection has bred into various people varieties of instinctive morality. It may be, then, that there are various possible conceptions of a 'worthy civilization', or of an 'ideal' way of life, not reducible to one another, between which there is no way of choosing; and perhaps there is no great need to choose.
The theory of evolution has sometimes been thought to provide a foundation for ethics: the moral instincts have been bred into us because of their survival value (for the species); therefore we should generally follow morality, but eliminate for it anything no longer conducive to the survival of the species. But this is not a very compelling theory. If an individual asks 'Why should I subordinate my wishes to the survival of the species?' the theory can give no good answer. If it is true that the functional explanation of the moral instincts is that they further the survival of the species, then anyone who acts so as to jeopardize the survival of the species (whatever this means!) would go against instinct. He might then feel uneasy. But what further can be said? If we are to eliminate ethical attitudes no longer functional then we must sometimes go against instinct. To secure the survival of our species, no matter what that species becomes, does not seem to be an over-riding imperative. Another version of evolutionary ethics says that the criterion of ethical conduct is that we should do what contributes to the progress of the evolutionary process. But why should we? Anyway, unlike artificial plant and animal breeding, the evolutionary process does not have any steady direction - it wanders about as environmental conditions change.
To return to Huxley. The passages I have quoted so far come from the 1894 'prolegomena' (Greek, 'things that are said before', preface) to the published version of his 1893 Romanes lecture. In the lecture itself, toward the end, there is a sharp rejection of 'social Darwinism': 'As I have already urged, the practice of that which is ethically best - what we call goodness or virtue - involves a course of conduct which, in all respects, is opposed to that which leads to success in the cosmic struggle for existence. In place of ruthless self-assertion it demands self-restraint; in place of thrusting aside, or treading down, all competitors, it requires that the individual shall not merely respect, but shall help his fellows; its influence is directed, not so much to the survival of the fittest, as to the fitting of as many as possible to survive. ... Law and moral precepts are directed to the end of curbing the cosmic process and reminding the individual of his duty to the community, to the protection and influence of which he owes, if not existence itself, at least the life of something better than a brutal savage. It is from neglect of these plain considerations that the fanatical individualism of our time attempts to apply the analogy of cosmic nature to society ... The struggle for existence, which has done such admirable work in cosmic nature, must, it appears, be equally beneficent in the ethical sphere. Yet ... if the cosmic process has no sort of relation to moral ends; if the imitation of it by man is inconsistent with the first principles of ethics; what becomes of this surprising theory? Let us understand, once for all, that the ethical progress of society depends, not on imitating the cosmic process, still less in running away from it, but in combating it' (p 82).
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