MIA > Archive > Bax > Catechism
So far you have only given the industrial or economic side of the historical development of human society. Do you mean to suggest that the intellectual, religious, artistic, and ethical aspects are entirely subordinate to this?
Certainly not. From the very beginnings of human development the mind of man has had a more or less independent influence on its surroundings. For this reason it is impossible to reduce history to a mere mechanical reflex of its industrial development. To enter at any length into the question of these other phases of human evolution would take us beyond the scope we have set ourselves in this work. It is, however, necessary to say a few words on the subject of ethics, in its connection with Socialism as a system of society.
Is there not a fundamental moral law which is the same in all systems of society?
To a certain extent, yes; but only to so far as all society implies a union of some sort or other, and hence certain broad rules of conduct which are essential to the continuance of this union, but even those broad rules or principles are modified to an almost indefinite extent by changes in the general conditions of social organisation, while many other rules of conduct come into operation and disappear with the varying phases of human society.
Do you mean to say, then, that Socialism has a distinct standard of ethics of its own?
Certainly; and not only Socialism but every other stage of human evolution has its own code of ethics. In early tribal society the ethical object, that is to say the end of conduct, was social; in other words, the highest object of devotion on the part of its members was the group, the tribe or clan, or, in a more advanced stage, the people, or confederacy of tribes. The question of good or evil conduct was determined by whether it served the prosperity, honour or glory of the community, or whether it was inimical to these. As man advanced into civilisation ethical ideas expanded, but at the expense of the narrower social morality of group society. Gradually, as civilisation progressed, the forms of the older group society, becoming obsolete, were superseded by the centralised State organisation, and the ethical centre became shifted from the group to the individual. Good and evil then assumed an absolute value irrespective of society. Religion, which in group society simply meant the conjuration of the spirits of ancestors and of the personified powers of nature in the interests of the tribe, now assumed quite another character, that of the worship of a spiritual deity, who was at once the source and the object of all moral aspiration, directly revealed to the individual conscience. This deity was the central point of the new morality, in which, consequently, man’s duty to his fellow men was a matter of secondary consideration. Thus we have first the tribal ethics, the responsibility to society, and in the second place an entirely contrary conception of ethics, the universal or introspective, in which the direct responsibility, was to a divinity, who was the supreme power of the universe, and for whom mankind was but a means of realising himself.
Can you give an illustration of what you mean by universal or introspective ethics?
All religions of the world which were not tribal nor, at least primarily, idolatrous – as it is termed – and which were founded and preached by individual prophets or teachers who claimed to have a divine mission. All these religions were in the main based upon the introspective conception above stated. Judaism, Buddhism and even Mohammedanism, in their purer forms, contained this element very prominently, but Christianity is its great historical expression. The declaration of the founder of Christianity, “The Kingdom of God is within you,” gives, in a single phrase, the complete basis of this code of ethics. The Kingdom of God was certainly not “within” the worshipper of a “totem”, or emblem of tribal unity; it was indeed “within” the tribe, but outside of any individual member of the tribe.
Then do you suggest that these religions, which superseded the tribal religions, were based upon an individualist ethic?
Most decidedly; inasmuch as the stress of their theory rests in a supposed direct relation of the individual soul with its God, or the soul of the universe, in contradistinction to a direct relation with the social body.
But surely these religions, notably Christianity, embrace moral precepts which are essentially social in their character?
That is perfectly true; but in the case of these religions, these social maxims, in so far as they are not merely survivals, are entirely secondary and derivative; you are called upon to love your brother, whom you can see, by way of practice, and as a preparatory exercise to loving God, whom you cannot see, and so forth.
But is not the word “individualism” used in connection, with ethics generally understood to mean something very different from even the Christian view of social obligations; is it not usually intended to convey the idea of the most narrow material selfishness, as expressed in the phrase, “The devil take the hindmost”?
Yes; with the development of civilisation and the more perfect forms of economic individualism, i.e., capitalism, the older theological ethic – which, though primarily individualistic (from an other-worldly point of view), had yet, as you have remarked, a social side – was superseded in actual practice and in the current theory of life, and became a mere pious opinion, having no practical application.
When did this development of the purely individualistic ethics take place?
This conception of ethics only became the dominant theory within the nineteenth century, with the advent of what has been described as the Manchester school of Political economy. The basis of the theory of that school was the individual scramble for wealth, the cash nexus in place of personal relations, and the dethronement of old-world sentiment in all the departments of life. It was this exaltation of purely material relations between men which led to the phrase, “The devil take the hindmost.” Some social reformers regard this ultra-individualistic ethic as the antithesis of the Christian ethic, that is to say, they oppose the Christian ethic to this fully developed individualism. But the real antithesis is not the Christian ethic, which is also in its way individualistic, but the ethic of tribal society on the one side and the ethic of the Socialist society of the future on the other.
What, then, is the ethical conception proper to the Socialist society of the future? Is it not Christian brotherly love?
No. Paradox as it may appear, the Socialist conception of ethics is not this brotherly love, in the Christian sense, although it may, superficially, seem to bear some resemblance to it. On the other hand, nothing is more erroneous than to suppose that Socialism ignores all ethical considerations which are not immediately concerned with the present class struggle in its narrower sense. Our corrupt capitalist society tends more and more to base its ethical judgment – save the mark! – on the mere interest or expediency of the possessing classes, either as a whole or in their more important sections. This is its ethical standard. It is one of the chef duties of the Socialist Party to hold aloft the banner of those fundamental ethical principles which, as we before remarked, are common to all the various forms through which human society has passed. In fact, the maintenance of a truly high ethical standard in public life is one of the most important functions of the Socialist Party of to-day; more important, indeed, than the attainment of any immediate success either generally as a party, or in such matters as might be considered to lie more especially within its sphere.
Can you give an illustration of what you mean by this?
Yes. Two instances in point, from recent and current events, suggest themselves. During the agitation on behalf of Captain Dreyfus it was quite a common thing to hear the remark, “Oh, this is simply a bourgeois affair. Even if the man has been unjustly condemned it is no business of the Socialist Party, which is only concerned when the rights of a workman are assailed.” The Socialists of France, with practical unanimity, thought otherwise. They felt by instinct that it was their duty to throw themselves into the breach on behalf of the common principles of justice, and by their vigorous action succeeded in vindicating these principles. Again, the Boer war affords us another instance in which working-class interests were not obviously or directly affected, but where it was a question of asserting the principles of justice on behalf of a small nation of comparatively well-to-do yeoman farmers. Nevertheless, the English Socialist Party with practical unanimity vigorously protested and agitated against the aggressive action of Great Britain, and in favour of the independence of the Republics. Here, again, although, of course, there were very vital issues in the class struggle between Capitalism and Socialism, Bourgeoisie and Proletariat, involved, yet they did not lie on the surface, and it might have seemed politic to have ignored the war as far as possible, with a view of conciliating those among the working classes who had been imposed upon as to the side on which their interests lay by the virulent garbage of the jingo press. The Social-Democratic Party of Great Britain has reason to be proud of its uncompromising attitude on this occasion in defence of international morality against crime.
Are we to understand, then, that the Socialist ethics of the future are no more those of Christianity than they are those of the Manchester school?
Certainly, apart from the fact that the so-called altruistic ethics of Christianity are subordinate to the theological relation of the soul to its God. Even in their very altruism these ethics are one-sided, seeing that they postulate, not as an exceptional incident, but as their root principle, the negation of the self of the natural man, not only to his God, but also to his fellow man. This one-sided, abstract view of the ethical relation has no part nor lot in the very concrete and tangible morality of the Socialism of the future.
But are not the ethics of Socialism essentially altruistic? If that is so, can you have any finer expression of them than is to be found in Christianity, e.g., in the Sermon on the Mount?
Socialist ethics are neither altruistic nor egotistic; they are intrinsically neither selfish nor unselfish. As with other abstractions characterising the phase of human development generally called civilisation – such as the differentiation into separate and even antagonistic classes of the various social functions, of which the cardinal instance is in the two functions of labour and direction separated and embodied in the two antagonistic classes of master and servant – so in ethics we find a purely factitious antagonism set up between the individual and society. This antagonism is based to a large extent on the economic individualism which separates and antagonises the material interests of the individual with his neighbour and with society at large. Given this antagonism, it naturally becomes a virtue on the part of the individual to sacrifice himself habitually for the benefit of others. Where, however, the condition is changed – and in proportion to the degree of this change – the reason for such sacrifice disappears, and to that extent it ceases to be a virtue. The virtue lies in the service rendered to one’s neighbour or to society, not in the amount of injury to one’s self: thus it would be meritorious to rescue anyone from a burning building, even at the cost of personal suffering or of life itself, and it is difficult to conceive of any set of circumstances in which the reason for such in act might not obtain – but the good would be in the rescue, not in the suffering or sacrifice entailed. Loss, injury, or suffering, is essentially an evil in itself, even if self-inflicted and for a good object. Socialism presupposes a condition of things in which the good of all will mean the good of each; and a society so constituted that the individual cannot serve himself without serving society, and cannot injure society without injuring himself. Thus there will no longer be altruism and egoism, selfishness and unselfishness, existing as antagonistic abstractions, but selfishness and unselfishness must necessarily be alike social in the general run of conduct.
Then Socialism does not presuppose a complete change in human nature and the entire elimination of selfishness, as has been so often asserted?
By no manner of means; on the contrary, Socialism only calls for enlightened selfishness. But the fact that this selfishness is enlightened, and recognises that it can serve itself only by serving the common interest, will completely change its character, so that it will cease to be the narrow selfishness of to-day, which so often defeats its own ends. Selfishness passing through the refining fire of economic change ceases to be selfishness and becomes Socialism.
But if this is so, and if the interests of each individual will, by the force of the new circumstances, be best served by serving the common interests, why do the dominant classes of to-day oppose Socialism?
Because, in the first place, their whole education and point of view, inherited and acquired, prevent them seeing that they, in common with the rest of society, would be happier under Socialism. Further, with the more enlightened among them the fact that they are in a better position materially than the majority, and the timidity engendered by the knowledge that at any time they may suffer by a change for the worse, makes them fear any change at all, and prefer a known certainty to an uncertainty, on the principle that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. The bulk of these classes, however, are absolutely blinded by their class position to the fact itself that they would be happier under Socialism.
Admitting this to explain the attitude of the dominant well-to-do classes, how is it, then, that the great body of the lower middle and working classes are not, as yet, in favour of Socialism?
Because up to the present tune the great majority of these classes are not class-conscious, and hence do not see the direction in which their real interests lie, or that these interests are in antagonism to those of the dominant classes; still less do they see that they are opposed to the existence of a society founded on classes altogether.
You speak of these classes not being class-conscious; what do you mean by that term? Surely if what you call the dominant classes have their own point of view, these others should also have their point of view. Yet we often hear a man declare that although he is not a capitalist, not a bourgeois, but one who has to work for his living, yet he cannot agree with Socialists, but is, on the contrary, an official Liberal, or may be a member of the Primrose League, and as much opposed to Socialism as Rothschild, Carnegie, or any other plutocrat. How do you explain this?
The matter is very simple. The individual who gives this apparently crushing answer that he is not a capitalist and wishes he were, but at the same time cannot agree with the Socialists at all, is still under the domination of the point of view of the ruling classes. Hitherto, throughout history, and at the present time, these classes alone are completely conscious of their own CLASS INTERESTS – that is what we mean by class-consciousness. Indirectly in consequence of this, and directly, in consequence of their dominant economic position, they have hitherto been able to impose their point of view upon the other classes which are not yet class-conscious, and to make this point of view pass current, not for what it is – a class standpoint – but as standing for absolute morality, commonsense, truth, justice – in a word, as representing the welfare of the whole community.
Give an instance of how a dominant class can succeed in imposing its own self-interested “moral” views upon the community at large.
To take one among many, it commonly expresses the utmost horror at anything like a forcible revolution; while the very same persons who do this in one breath, will, in the next, complacently discuss the advisability of waging an unprovoked war for the purpose of asserting national supremacy, or for securing fresh commercial outlets. The horror at the human suffering entailed, so eloquently expressed in the first case, evaporates under some phrase such as “necessity” or “inevitability” (which, being interpreted, means desirability from their own class point of view) in the other. They well know that, as possessing classes, they have everything to lose and nothing to gain in a domestic revolution, while in a foreign war they often think they have a great deal to gain, and, as they hope, very little to lose. Once more, on the occasion of the assassination of any potentate or statesman, the public opinion of the possessing class and its organs is lashed up to a white heat of artificial fury and indignation against the perpetrator, while they have nothing but approbation for the functionary – military or civil – who puts to death a fellow-creature in the course of what they are pleased to call his duty; as, for instance, in the execution in cold blood, after the event, of the two Boer prisoners simply for attempting to escape at Pretoria. Evidently force and bloodshed, when contrary to the interests of the possessing class, is a monstrous crime, but when it is in their favour it becomes a duty and a necessity.
How has the dominant class been thus able to impose its own point of view upon the other classes? Has this been done deliberately on their part – so to say, of malice aforethought?
In the past, the overpowering influence of the dominant class has been in the main unconscious, it has been due to the position of that class, and has not been deliberately imposed. Until the development of capitalism, however, and of the consciousness of class interests as such, the leaders of the dominant or possessing class by means of their control over press, pulpit and platform, deliberately seek to impose as truth, morality and religion the ideas which suit their purpose and best serve their class interests.
That being so, are we then to understand that the whole of history so far has been written from the point of view of the dominant class of every age?
Most assuredly so, and this applies to well-nigh the whole of the sources of past history. For example, in the Book of Kings, and the other so-called historical books of the Old Testament, ancient Hebrew history is given us from the point of view of the wealthy influential Jehovistic priesthood of Jerusalem, and of the narrow nationalism which was its ideal side. It is from their standpoint that men are lauded or condemned. Again, the history of Catiline, who represented the disinherited classes of Rome against the tyranny of wealth, and its exclusive dominance in the State, has been handed down to us as the history of a scoundrel, opposing the forces of public order. Corning to medieval history, we have the case of the English peasant rebellion of 1380, the leaders of which have been uniformly maligned by chroniclers and historians, as have also, to speak of a later period, the men of the German peasant insurrection, together with John of Leyden and the Anabaptists of Münster. Turning once more to modern times, we have only to remember the vilification of all the popular leaders of the French Revolution or of the Paris Commune of 1871. So it is throughout history. Whether good or bad, events and characters have been judged, and the verdict of history passed upon them solely from the point of view of the dominant class of the period in which they appeared. The whole of history will have to be re-written in the future from the point of view of the people of an epoch, and no longer from that of its dominant classes.
Seeing the importance of this point and the very widespread notion that no man who is not a capitalist can be expected to hold capitalistic views of social relations, will you in a few words recapitulate your position on this matter?
To begin with, throughout civilisation – that is, that period of human evolution in which class divisions are the special characteristic – the dominant class, necessarily, by reason of being the dominant class, imposes its ideas, principles and views upon the whole of any given society. Such a society must necessarily partake of the character and be moulded by the principles which serve the interests of its master class, or cease to exist as such. This imposition of the will and principles of the dominant class may be done consciously or unconsciously. In the earlier stages of civilisation this class used the speculative and religious beliefs which were held by the general body of the people, and even by itself to a large extent, as a cover and justification for its supremacy as a class; this it did in the main (although not always) unconsciously, and without malice aforethought. Nowadays, however, there is no illusion in the matter; the dominant classes, working on hereditary feelings, deliberately mislead or “bull-doze” the rest of the people, and this is why the man whose class position should make him a Socialist remains as thoroughly reactionary as any member of the dominant class until he becomes class-conscious, i.e., conscious of his class position and the essential antagonism between the interests of his class and those above him in the economic scale. He then sees through the whole fraud of bourgeois religion, morality and politics. Therefore, although the bulk of the recruits to Socialism will come from the working classes, it makes not the slightest difference intrinsically to a man being a Socialist, whether he be rich or poor, so long as he accepts the principle of the class struggle, and recognises the historical function of the proletariat, as a class, to found a new society. A “horny-handed” son of toil is often an enemy of Socialism and of his class, while a wealthy man may be an ardent and sincere Socialist and champion of the workers, devoting his whole life to the task of their emancipation.
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Last updated on 16.6.2004