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ghts"; those claims and interests the establishment and protection of which may be secured by force and even violence negated only with respect to some particular cases of "right" by Examples 8, 9, and 17.

Class F.

Moral "rights" negated by Examples 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 13, 16, and 17; but only in the same way that moral "right" is incompatible with legal "right."

Class G.

Unspecified and unrestricted liberties and privileges negated restrictively by the single example of No. 18.

Class H.

That which is most convenient, desirable, or favorable; conforming to one's wish or desire; to be preferred, etc., negated by Examples 2, 4, 6, 9, 10, 12, 13, 14, and 15.

"Right" signifying very, in great degree No antonym

All this has an important bearing on the meaning of the word "wrong." We saw that this word has only 18 significations, as compared with the 114 significations of "right." We also saw that it is only partially antagonistic to the concept to which it is commonly opposed. And it has further been revealed that our customary logic makes a single exception the grounds for an assumption of contradiction. On the basis of these observations, then, we may declare that "wrong" refers to some very special behavior situations where human energies cannot be controlled and directed as desired, where the employment of technique to further man's purposes has been hindered, and where "good" cannot be obtained. This, however, is not equivalent to saying that "wrong" is the antonym, the unqualified contradictory, of "right," any more than red is the opposite of blue, or coffee the opposite of tea.

A question of considerable importance both in physiology and in ethics arises when we ask why the concepts "right" and "good" have so many more significations than do "wrong," "evil," and "bad." We have already emphasized the relation between speech and conduct sufficiently to indicate that upon the answer to such a question something essential for a technique in ethics depends. A word can have a great number of significations only by its being employed in a great variety of situations, and this means that very many different specific responses are implicit in the use of our most comprehensive concepts. Contrariwise, with a word of fewer significations, fewer such responses are implied. Now we have already cited the fact that "good" and "right" refer primarily to outgoing reactions, and that "wrong," "evil," and "bad" signify withdrawing reactions. Are we, then, summarily to conclude, without any further knowledge of the body's mechanisms, that since we seem to use our extensor system in a more diversified manner than our flexor system, the muscular equipment of the former is superior to that of the latter?

If we do so conclude, we shall be in error. It is the opposite that is nearer the truth. Both larger and stronger, and, on the whole, more easily educated muscles exist in the flexor than in the extensor system. The innumerable capacities of the half-closed hand are representative of this superiority. Still more important, however, is the fact that the flexor system is practically the dominant system in the human body. The hinges of the knee, hip, shoulder, elbow, wrist, and jaw are more often, more strongly, and more readily closed maximally than they are expanded to the full. Besides, occupational postures are almost universally crystallized withdrawing responses. Where, then, shall we look for the answer to our question?

We shall look directly at the behavior of the organism as a whole. While it is admitted that flexor actions are stronger, more numerous, and more universal than are extensor reactions, yet when we consider how the flexor reactions dispose the body toward its environment, we shall at once have light on this curious problem. For the effect of such reactions is to cut off the body from a large part of the environment, and consequently to reduce the possibility of effective contact with it. Stooping, crouching, bowing the head, and lowering the eye are significant examples of flexor responses which reduce the span of perception, while every man knows that activities of the opposite character allow a greater number of stimuli to come in contact with his eyes and his ears. Consequently, even though flexor actions will always be in the majority, extensor actions have the advantage of providing the conditions under which a greater variety of stimuli can be presented to the organism. This is the same as saying that the open-minded person necessarily becomes discriminative and exploratory, while the opposite type is left to stew in his own juice. The flexor type of man is, indeed, in the end reduced to contacts with his own body, while to the extensor type of man his body is only one of the many sources of motivation, the rest being in the external environment. It seems thus to be primarily due to the very mechanics of the organism that the words "right" and "good" have a greater variety of significations than have the words "bad," "evil," and "wrong."

One additional word, however, can still be said. As we have already indicated, these three so-called negative ethical concepts are all descriptive of behavior situations in which thwarting and inhibition are dominant symptoms. Henceforth, however, thwarting and inhibition will be understood as temporary interruptions of an outgoing reaction which would have eventuated had the environment contained the stimulus to which the organism was attuned to respond. As we say in common speech, a desire is not satisfied by being denied, and from our every-day experience we know that great aggravations produce as much scheming as do our easiest successes. He who casts his eye over the numerous significations of our two positive ethical concepts will now realize where much of the adroitness and sagacity which characterizes them originates.

In these two simple facts, namely, that extensor actions bring more of the world of action within our range, and that even the thwarted man imaginatively explores the environment to find substitute stimuli to release his energy upon, we find the reason why man has more uses for the words "right" and "good" than he has for the words "bad," "evil," and "wrong." And with this we achieve by a purely empirical and anti-supernaturalistic method a physiological warrant for ethical optimism. If anyone is looking for a "higher" truth, let him ponder this one.

"VIRTUE" AND "VICE" AS FUNCTIONS OF THE ORGANISM

"In nearly all these philosophic discussions of ethics one has somehow the haunting sense of a wrongness of direction. Virtue is somehow imposed from above, it is descending upon us. And the unfortunate part of this is that it has to descend very low indeed before it reaches us; and when there, it has lost the buoyancy wherewith to lift us up."

EDWIN HOLT, "The Freudian Wish."

In the foregoing analysis of the five most frequently used ethical concepts we have had to feel our way rather carefully, inasmuch as a completely new path was being cut through the tangle of human experience; henceforth, however, our task will be somewhat easier, since we shall now be able to apply the truth we have already discovered in the remainder of our investigations. Directly, then, we shall proceed to ask what another pair of ethical antonyms, namely, virtue and vice, signify in terms of our physiological functions.

Herewith, also, the need to combat another equally stultifying tendency is manifest. I refer to the proclivity of all second-rate minds to reify abstract terms. "Virtue" and "vice" have been so reified, as have likewise "conscience," "duty," and "freedom" to such an extent as to make it almost impossible to get a fair hearing for any one who wishes to discover the sources from which these concepts have been derived. It is admitted, of course, that the evolution of man has been greatly hastened by his ability to make and use abstract terms; but when a man uses an abstract term without knowing or caring from what sources it has been derived, he is manifesting little more than a desire to escape from reality. Indeed, it might be said that unless the use of abstractions assists us in dealing more effectively with concrete persons and things, it is time to regret that language has been universally acquired.

The terms "virtue" and "vice," therefore, instead of being treated as abstract entities which existed even prior to man's advent on the planet, and which will survive his leave-taking of it, will be here regarded simply as words by which a man describes the behavior of himself and of his fellows. And, as was the case five times previously, our definitions of these particular concepts will be the result of a search for the greatest common divisors of all the particular virtues and vices respectively.

Why is it, we ask, that so few of the innumerable human traits that are commended every day--not only by words of praise, but also by that subtler and more emphatic sign of unconscious imitation--have been chosen as virtues, while so many others have been left out of the list? The four cardinal virtues,--courage, prudence, temperance, and justice,--exemplify this high degree of selectiveness, while this inventory omits all mention of human skill in any form, in spite of the fact that when the list was made by Plato, human skill in the fine arts had reached one of its limits of excellence.

A glance at another well-known list of selected virtues reveals even less of a tendency toward the statistical method in ethics than even Plato showed. We refer to those significantly unobtrusive virtues which characterized the ethics of primitive Christianity, and which were doubtless derived from the Beatitudes. Readers of the English Bible may recall that the epithet "blessed" was employed by Jesus to describe those who were poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek, those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, those who have been persecuted for righteousness' sake, those falsely reproached, the poor, and those who weep, which persons, in the average, are an entirely different class of organisms from those whom Plato would have called "blessed," that is, commendable. There is evidence to believe that this novel emphasis upon a certain type of person,--a type hitherto openly unpraised in the ethical thought of man,--gave rise to the tendency to elevate such traits as humility, kindliness, self-denial, meekness, patience, and the like, to a supreme position in the minds of primitive Christians.

However, this class of virtues is again not to be considered as indicative of the only traits which people commend, either openly, or by more subtle and significant signs. It is even safe to say that no group of Christians, be it either small or large, existing in a remote or a modern generation, were ever na?vely satisfied, or brought by dint of training, to act on the principle that these unobtrusive traits were the chief virtues. The reason for this plainly lies in the one-sidedness of such traits. Paulsen, in his "System of Ethics," points out that whereas the Greeks found positive values in scientific knowledge, esthetic and other pleasures, temperance, courage, justice, honor and high-mindedness, bodily cultivation, economic solvency, family life, and the state, the early Christians considered almost none of these things to be worth their while. And whereas it would be more or less insulting to the memory of Jesus to call the doctrines of the early Christians an extension of his teachings, yet we can say that the unobtrusive virtues which early official Christianity sought to emphasize, are one and all withdrawing reactions, and as such must be rejected as the sole basis of a scientific ethics.

We reject them because they are not based upon a sufficient consideration of the total needs of man's body,--that on which his life and mind depend. Man has not only a flexor system, but an extensor system of muscles as well, and it must be plain from the discussions in the preceding chapters that both of these systems are ethical mechanisms. However, official Christianity has often seen fit, by its exclusive emphasis upon those virtues which involve withdrawing reactions, literally to declare that the extensor system shall be denied a stimulus. The Greeks were far wiser; for even though they may have failed to achieve a conception of virtue which took into consideration the wholesome balance between flexor and extensor activities, they nevertheless did not err in propounding a doctrine that ignored the simplest principles of human behavior.

As a matter of historical record, primitive Christians did not succeed, by the exhibition of these unobtrusive virtues, in making themselves either inconspicuous or immune to their persecutors. If anything, indeed, they were all the more actively hounded because of their queer traits. And why? For the simple reason that the typical Christian virtues, being withdrawing reactions, and consequently allied to and confused with the attitudes of secretiveness and dissimulation, led the Roman officials quite reasonably to suspect that the early Christians were dangerous to the state. And it can be substantiated that primitive Christianity was far from being a patriotic movement. In those days, at least, the man who did not retaliate a blow was regarded first with amazement, then with contempt, then fear, and finally with the most diabolical hatred. Such a silent man might know something very important, might have knowledge of a world-wide insurrection ready to break tonight. Tear him to pieces, then; he shall at least not maintain that exasperating smile! How is such a meek man "blessed"? It may be true that our sentiments can partially apologize for a system of ethics based upon the functions of the flexor system alone, yet the sense of proportion which we inherit from the Greeks demands that we strike out on new paths which are not littered with the blunders of the past.

The upshot of all this discussion is that from the study of man's body as an ethical machine, it appears that he who would formulate a list of the chiefly desirable traits or virtues should first carefully consider the total needs of the organism. This new catalogue of virtues will be based upon the realization that man possesses both a flexor and an extensor mechanism. We know already that many ailments of the body are traceable to a lop-sided use of it, by which is usually meant the acquisition of chronic fatigue-postures in the flexor muscles. Indeed, chronic postures are recognized to be of such paramount importance, that experts have been employed to devise adequate stretching exercises in order to restore the organic balance of a nation. Moreover, just as the hygiene of the body depends upon a liberal use of all of its muscles, so likewise the ethical balance of the organism can be maintained only by the cultivation and commendation of a sufficient variety of traits to provide an outlet for all the action-tendencies which man naturally possesses. Virtue, then, we may henceforth regard as being based directly upon our physiological needs, and not upon the assumption, so frequently employed in the past, that ideals must be unattainable in order to be respectable.

Moreover, a strictly natural science of ethics will have a regard for the fact of individual differences among men, and, recognizing that blood-pressure, metabolism, talents, and capacities differ so widely as to make it impossible for any one trait to be the "highest" virtue for all persons, it will place the emphasis solely upon the needs of the individual case. Already this development has become wide-spread. The juvenile courts, the Society for Mental Hygiene, the National Child Welfare Association are all examples of an ethical technique based entirely upon the sciences of physiology, psychology, and medicine. This emancipation of ethics from official religion is one of the most momentous events in the history of civilization.

And finally, we may say that it is time to recognize that since each one of the "seven ages of man" has its own particular mental and physical characteristics, so likewise does each of these ages have its own particular virtues. Too long have parents whispered themselves into the belief that the child ought to strive to copy the man, for the result of this unconscious egotism has only forced such parents to discover that when their child has grown up, they immediately wanted him to be an infant again! But it is becoming recognized among those who learn to look at the world without such an exaggerated self-preference, that every phase of life,--infancy, puberty, youth, manhood, middle-age, maturity, and senescence,--brings with it ever new ethical opportunities in the appearance of traits peculiar to each phase, and that it is in the development of these various potentialities into their own natural end-product that the ultimate ethical values consist.

It now remains to be seen what the word "vice" means, first by scanning the uses to which it is popularly put, and second, by reference to its physiological implications. Accordingly, then, we find the following general classes of things called vices.

Any fault, mistake, or error may be called a vice, as, for instance, a "vice of method." This signification is practically identical with one use of the term "bad."

Likewise, any imperfection, defect, or blemish falls under this category, as "a vice of conformation," "a vice of literary style." Here again this use of the concept may be identified with some of the significations of "bad" and "wrong." These first two classes of vice may be related to one another in the sense that the first is the cause, and the latter the effect,--the erroneous method producing the blemish in the product.

In our third class are found the significations most commonly implied by this concept today, namely, those habits or actions contrary to public policy, and especially those which arouse violent censure. Such are gluttony, indolence, mendacity, drunkenness, debauchery, and the like, which might also be included in any complete list of the things which are called "bad," "evil," and "wrong." The peculiarly specific element which enters here, however, is the damage to the organism which these vices entail. Sometimes, also, this concept is used in the expression, "an age of vice," a phrase which denotes a period of time in which these censured practices are extremely prevalent, or given particular notice.

The term "vice" is also used in describing animals not thoroughly trained, as when it is said: "That bird-dog has the vice of mouthing the quarry," or "I must break this horse of his vice of cribbing."

Formerly, indeed, some inherited bodily defects were spoken of as "constitutional vices," but this use of the term is now rare.

VIRTUES VICES

Valor, courage, intrepidity, No antonym, except in the . The spectacular rare cases where cowardice virtues. may be regarded as vicious.

Caution, probity, temperance, Negated by mendacity, sobriety . but not precisely; nor popularly by gluttony and indolence.

Medicinal efficacy of drugs. No antonym.

The phrases, "by virtue of," No antonym. "in virtue of," etc.

No antonym. Fault mistake, error.

No antonym. Imperfection, defect, or blemish.

No antonym. The faults of untrained animals.

No antonym. Constitutional vices.

How, now, shall we proceed to construct our definition of the ethical concept "vice"? It will be recalled that we used the term virtue to describe a situation in which energy was being either mobilized or expended to obtain what the organism considered to be a dependable good. Does vice imply the opposite of this? Hardly, for it must be admitted by the uncensorious observer that many of even the most violently condemned actions could be described as part of somebody's program to attain a durable satisfaction. The glutton, remembering once more how comfortable a full belly makes him feel, may gorge himself without stint; and even if he has been warned that diabetes and gout are likely to be the final results of such persistent devotion to the pastry and the roast, he may still pursue these foods with avidity, cheerfully and hopefully making himself an exception to the general rule of impending disaster. In the same way, the lusty pursuer of sex enjoyments may be dispassionately regarded as planning and achieving his own type of satisfaction, and while he may often "in a cool hour" be aware of the likelihood of entangling alliances, yet even his self-censure is not guaranteed to keep him from mobilizing his energy for the attainment of his chosen, private "good."

Once more, then, we realize that "virtue" and "vice" are not true antonyms. We saw this to be the case with "good" and "bad," and likewise with "right" and "wrong." It is only when these pairs of terms are used with the most severely restricted denotation, that is, with a provincial bias, that their opposition and contradiction appears. Such bias is also shown, when it is said that the glutton and the debauch? "really know that they shouldn't" indulge themselves as they do, a statement which signifies something like this: If these men who do what I call "wrong" were only to act as I direct, they would not be censured. Obviously so, but what a host of fallible assumptions this involves! It is merely ignoring the problem, and such a treatment furnishes no hint as to its solution. One begins to doubt the validity of all praise and blame as profitable ethical instruments. Besides, the appeal to self-censure, as employed in the above case, is, in the end, relatively inefficacious in actual practice, and is hence illogical as a basic principle in ethical theory. Indeed, it is idle to say that we all know what we should do; if we had that much information, we would act upon it, for the will and the intellect, as Spinoza remarked, are one and the same. The great need in ethics is to get right down to the empirical facts of conduct and to let them teach us, rather than to hide the facts behind a screen of pious insincerity. Importunate chiding may be a traditional tool of morality, but it does not contribute anything to the establishment of an ethical science.

However, if we bear in mind that praise and blame, or commendation and censure are always relative to certain environmental conditions, and if, furthermore, we can discover what they really imply, we shall doubtless be able to arrive at a conception of virtue and vice that will square with the observable facts of human conduct. And the first point to be emphasized is that whenever these concepts are used, some standard seems to be implied. What is this seemingly hidden standard, this presupposed line, which, especially in the case of the vices, one is forbidden to cross under pain of censure? Sometimes it seems to be a line drawn within a family, sometimes within a neighborhood, while often it is confined to a class or profession, and again it is delimited by a national culture. Would it not seem that every such tacitly assumed standard is created by the relatively unconscious judgment of the group in the very effort to have a group, the members of which recognize each other as belonging to it? In other words, are not all such standards a function of the desire of the group to employ the pronouns "we" and "us" significantly? This is not oversimplifying the matter, since the use of such pronouns implies much more than is commonly realized. Indeed, when man says "we" instead of "I," he indicates that a point in evolution has been reached where a similarity of predicaments has produced a similarity of aims. To fight a common foe, to till a common land, and to keep a common eye upon strangers are one and all actions implicit in the establishment of group standards. And even though these standards are often ill-defined, and frequently neglected by certain individuals within the group, nevertheless they remain as a background of reference , whenever there is any danger felt lest the word "we" should become meaningless. Danger felt by whom? Particularly, we are obliged to say, by the most conservative members of the group, for be it remembered that praise and blame, and reward and punishment are insisted upon most violently by undiscriminating persons. Such persons, it seems, are most sensitive to the waxing and waning of certain benefits which others have achieved for them, and which they regard as valuable to retain and dangerous to lose.

If anyone wishes to know what such benefits are he has only to recall what traits his own group calls virtues and vices, and to ask in every case just what they imply in terms of the needs of the group which sanctions or condemns them. For example, valor, courage, and intrepidity, together with the other spectacular virtues, have certainly been commended because they supply two very obvious and well-nigh universal group needs. The first is a common, stalwart defence, and the second is a healthy progeny. Cripples and deformed persons have never been objects of admiration or praise. As for the unobtrusive virtues, many of these have likewise been commended by such a group as feels itself beset or insecure on account of its inability to compete with the strong on their own terms, and this group has adopted them in a semi-paradoxical attempt to acquire solidarity. To turn at once to the other side of the picture, we find that the vices of gluttony, drunkenness, and lechery have been condemned not only because they effeminate and debilitate, and thereby undermine the defence-power of the group, but also because they tend to reduce the capacity of the group to create a sound and fertile offspring. This is doubtless why certain congenital abnormalities were formerly spoken of as "constitutional vices." As for the word "vice" being sometimes applied to botchy work, incorrect methods, and the faults of untrained animals, we can see how in special instances a group might regard these things as peculiarly detrimental to its solidarity. Contrariwise, the "virtue" of a medicinal plant might, under the harassing circumstances of a plague or an epidemic, be the chief cause of even a nation's concern.

In thus defining virtue and vice in terms of the assets and liabilities of the group, what becomes of our previous attempt to define virtue in individualistic terms? The answer is that this previous conception remains as a necessary complement to, and check upon, group intolerance. For while the desires of the group and those of the individual may sometimes clash, they do not need to be considered as basically or essentially opposed to one another. The historical fact is often manifest that when group solidarity tends to produce mediocrity, there is a sudden overt demonstration of individualism. Our own generation shows an example of this type of reaction. When, again, extreme individualism fails to yield group assets, the conservative tendencies begin to reassert themselves more powerfully once more. Yet it is doubtful whether exactly the same type of conservatism is ever repeated, since the individualism which it seeks to counteract is, in succeeding generations, different from the type which preceded it.

From the foregoing it is apparent that the ethical concept "virtue" has two alternative interpretations. One of these involves the commendation of the group on the basis of what its members feel to be required for the maintenance of its traditions. The other interpretation is based upon what the individual mobilizes and expends his energy to obtain. Which of these is superior to the other, that is, which would survive in case of mutual conflict, only the last volume of recorded history will relate. What is more of a real problem to us is the question, commonly asked, Is virtue its own reward?

This curious question involves the philosophical theory of internal relations,--a theory of very doubtful validity. The statement that virtue is its own reward is equivalent to the assertion that virtue is valuable in and for itself. But if so, then virtue is unique, and this again is doubtful, for whether we observe the individual devoting his energies to the attainment of some dependable good, or the group commending him for it, it appears at once that virtuous actions are never undertaken without some hope of reward either in the shape of praise or of tangible results. Upon hearing this, some will groan, claiming that a good man should act ever and only on principle, and leave the rest to the gods. And yet nobody ever did so. Moreover, it is plain that the truly virtuous man, whether acting within the taboos of his clan, or striking out on entirely new paths after a "good" that he could depend securely upon, received a three-fold reward of a very substantial nature. He achieved power, he attained wisdom, and he secured peace; and these rewards, moreover, in the degree to which they were gained, automatically thereafter became the measure by which the dependability of any good could be estimated. And we also venture to say that the same criterion could be employed in determining to what extent any particular trait of character was a vice.

Even more than this, however, can now be said. For such a criterion as is here suggested has significant implications for the human body,--that upon which life and mind ultimately depend. Experiments in psychology and psychiatry have revealed that traits of character are more than skin-deep and brain-deep; indeed, they are more than muscle-deep: they are as deep as the vital organs themselves. Even more than this is apparent, for these same sciences have demonstrated that not only is such a trait as anxiety just another name for a chronic muscular tension, but also that many diseases are, if not caused, at least abetted by what we think, how we act, and what feelings we cultivate. In more precise terms, the mechanisms of thought and action, being partly identical with the mechanisms of locomotion and metabolism, can produce either a hygienic or an unhygienic effect upon the whole structure of man's organism. And in this fact, I think, we can find an acceptable basis, even if a new one, for the distinction between virtue and vice.

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