|
ICARUS
or
The Future of Science
By
Bertrand Russell
I.
Introductory
II.
Effects of the Physical Sciences
III. The
Increase of Organization
IV. The
Anthropological Sciences
CONCLUSION
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. {1}
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.
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.
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.
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.
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