Let us now see how the theory of Probabilism can be explained, when we take into account the distinction of Catholic morals in matters of principle, and their ideal conception of law as a rule of duty intensified by love. In its historical significance the word is connected with the various opinions expressed in casuistic works written on moral questions since the latter part of the Middle Ages; and more especially with the point how certainty in matters of conscience can be obtained where there is doubt as to the moral obligation of an act. As the word conscience itself indicates, consciousness, a conviction of the clearest possible kind, ought to precede our resolutions and actions, and when this is present naturally, or has been obtained by instruction and reflection, there is no need of any further theories. But what is to be done where there is uncertainty, and where on the one hand there are serious reasons for regarding an act as morally obligatory, and on the other hand equally good reasons for thinking that there is no obligation at all? May probability (probabilitas) here take the place of a knowledge of truth? Can it at least indirectly afford the conscience a certainty that is free from laxism no less than from rigorism and scrupulous adherence to the letter of the law? I must once more protest against the customary misrepresentations of Probabilism, and emphasize the fact that it by no means permits men to act in a way contrary to "their own convictions" and to their own judgment." All Catholic theologians are agreed in saying "that wherever moral certainty exists, wherever there is a true recognition of duty, there is but one kind of freedom, that of obedience." Nor do they require any scientific evidence or cogent proofs for their opinion, but simply that "moral certainty" which in practical questions is generally the only one obtainable, a certainty that does not exclude every possible, but every reasonable doubt. One need only open any textbook on morals in order to see that conscientia dubia has been the object of all disputes carried on by moralists in the last few centuries.{1}
Even where a direct perception of the moral truth is not possible, Catholic moralists unanimously require us to settle the theoretically insoluble difficulty somehow or other, so that we may not leave everything blindly and arbitrarily to chance, but have some clear, practical views before we proceed to action. This is the meaning of the rule that one must never act in dubio practico. But how can we obtain such clear views and calm judgments? The system called Tutiorism taught that in such cases, even though there may be weighty reasons against it, the mere conjecture that something is a duty has the same binding force upon the conscience that clear knowledge would have. Probabiliorism, however, denied that a conjecture has a binding force when there are weightier reasons for adopting an opinion less severe and in favour of freedom. Probabilism taught that as soon as any serious doubt arises regarding the existence of a duty, a doubt, which remains after conscientious reflection, corresponding to the education and circumstances of the person concerned, there is no obligation; lex dubia non obligat.
Since the sixteenth century this theory has been represented by theologians of very various schools and orders. Many included also cases where the greater probability is on the side of the law, provided that this probability does not weaken the arguments in favour of the freer opinion. A Dominican, Bartholomeus Medina, in 1457, was the first to state the formula: si est opinia probabilis, licet eam sequi, licet opposita probabilior sit, thereby recognizing that the less probable opinion could justify the denial of obligation.{2}
The conflicts between the various systems brought to light much that was unedifying. The attacks of the Jansenists, and above all Pascal's "Provincial Letters," with their strong bias, spread misunderstanding and excitement far and wide in ecclesiastical circles. It is impossible not to blame some moralists of that period for a certain superficiality and want of decision in rejecting offensive opinions, when dealing with individual questions and when stating reasons on which they based their answers. Several Popes condemned certain lax, individual views of probabilistic authors. In a decree issued in 1680, Innocent XI commends and encourages Gonzalez, subsequently General of the Society of Jesus, for his energetic opposition to the definition of Probabilism given above.{3} Yet it was precisely among the Jesuits that this theory continued to prevail, although the meaning and the natural limitations of the formula were more clearly established. St. Alphonsus Liguori was not satisfied with Probabiliorism, nor with the simple form of Probabilism. He restricted the application of the rule lex dubia non obligat to cases of genuine doubt, where the arguments for and against were approximately of equal weight, hut he maintained that the law continued to be binding if its applicability were more probable than not. This is equiprobabilism, to which the Redemptorists still adhere, and also many other theologians who are decidedly opposed to the other line of thought already mentioned. Our antagonists, therefore, who speak of Probabilism as tolerated and sanctioned by the Church, ought not to overlook the existence of this latter theory, which has many adherents. Taken as a whole, and as including both theories, Probabilism has certainly almost completely displaced Tutiorism and Prohabiliorism, which, whilst ostensibly rigorous, contain many defects both from the scientific and the practical points of view.
But does the existence of Probabilism not acknowledge the fact that Catholic morals contain or suggest a view according to which law and liberty are placed in opposition to one another?
An important distinction already drawn supplies us with the answer to this question. The basis common to all morality is the relation of free action to an absolute end, viz., the highest good. It follows from the very essence of the absolute good, or, in other words, from the attitude of His creatures towards God, that this relation embraces all our actions, In the moral life there are no gaps or breaks, there is no sphere where natural liberty is exempt from the dominion of the law. Just as our reason cannot think correctly unless guided by logical principles, so there can be no practical judgment and action unless subjected to ethical principles. In reply to the question whether all our actions ought to have relation to God, all theologians, including Probabilists, answer in the affirmative, and thus proclaim the principle of a morality controlling all free action.{4} The great majority, following St. Thomas, go further and declare that this supremacy of the moral law must not be merely negative, excluding all irregularity in deliberate actions, but must be positive, since it ought to regulate all the aims of creatures with reference to the highest aim. In other words, this means that nothing is morally indifferent if it belongs to our conscious actions; he who does not do right, does wrong. As charity in the life of Christians is nothing but the intensified, living, and vigorous form of this fundamental striving after morality, the full surrender of self to the highest Good for its own sake, we can see that, in the case of those in a state of grace, love is an all-embracing law, knowing no limitations or exceptions. This is a central point in St. Thomas's doctrine of morals to which all subsequent spiritual teachers have adhered, though they have held various opinions regarding the kind of influence possessed by love. "It is contained in the commandment regarding love, that we must love God with our whole heart; this involves referring all things to God; hence man cannot fulfil the commandment of love, unless a relation to God is given to everything."{5}
Subordinated to charity, which is the great commandment of Christianity, is a system of laws regulating the various departments of our moral life. Property, honour, sexual life, and the state, all acquire moral significance when viewed in the light of the highest Good, but their binding power is limited, not absolute. The human intellect is complete and without condition; it is subject only to the Infinite; with regard to particular points of morality it is bound only in as far as they must be observed, to reach the highest and ultimate aim of our existence. Hence there exists actually a right to freedom of action with regard to the individual laws of morality; the duties of prayer, almsgiving, obedience, etc., have their limitations, and can themselves become limitations to the higher use of liberty. This does not mean that, after establishing my "liberty" with regard to some particular duty, "I may do what I like"; for in all that I do I am subject to the obligation of morality as such, and as a Christian I must observe the law of charity. It is almost incomprehensible how any one can so misunderstand the Probabilists, when they discuss duty and liberty, as to represent freedom from some particular law as equivalent to a removal of every moral obligation, and the letting loose of immoral tendencies and interests. We may even say that most casuistic questions turn on duties arising out of human laws and on obligations to the Church or state. Even Herrmann admits (p. 37) that, with regard to such laws, moral liberty does not completely surrender its independence or its rights.
Herrmann particularly objects to the arguments advanced by Cathrein in support of the probabilistic rule: lex dubia non obligat. In the latter's book on moral philosophy (p. 368) we read: "For a law to have a binding force upon us, it must be sufficiently promulgated. It is a universally recognized principle in law that lex non promulgata non obligat. Now a really doubtful law, against the existence of which weighty reasons can be alleged, may be regarded as insufficiently promulgated, and therefore it is not binding. We can develop the same idea in another way -- Man is in himself master of his actions, freedom of action has been given him by God. Every limitation to this liberty, or, what is the same thing, every law imposed upon a man, must be positively proved; and until this proof is forthcoming, man is free to act in the matter as he pleases. If, however, the existence of a law is really doubtful, and if there are serious reasons against it, the proof is null and void, and the man retains his right to determine his own actions."{6}
Is there anything in this passage that justifies Herrmann in regarding the liberty, to which Cathrein alludes, as liberty from the moral law in general, and his "freedom of action" as license to do what one likes? Has Herrmann any right thus to impute to Catholics a desire to be absolutely free from God, or, in other words, to be godless? The whole of the first part of Cathrein's Moral Philosophy was written to show that man's true greatness and happiness must be sought only in turning to God, and that the moral law, though based on God, is still the expression of our innermost nature, and therefore sets its mark on all the free actions of man. He says: "The natural law is, so to say, the necessary endowment or equipment of human nature, and is made known to men by the natural light of reason. Therefore the sphere of its legality is as universal as that of human nature itself. . . . Reason commands me, as a man, to observe the order proper to myself, and to do so unconditionally, i.e., not merely to-day or to-morrow, here or in some other place, but always and everywhere. There is therefore no position conceivable, in which the natural law is not binding upon man" (p. 336). The principle derived from jurisprudence concerning the melior conditio possidentis is, in its application to morality, certainly likely to be misunderstood, and has therefore been abandoned (as a fundamental part of the system) by many recent Probabilists; according to the fundamental theory of Catholic morals its actual meaning may be as follows: Although it belongs to the essence of reason to order everything with reference to God and His glory, yet according to the nature of our reason and will this is only a general law, affecting our principles; it does not preclude, but actually demands our independent examination of the means to this end. This moral freedom of the individual to choose his way to God according to his own independent judgment, is actually limited by particular laws in which certain interests of morality occur as objective demands. A true and certain knowledge of the latter, causes freedom to be rediscovered in the law -- what is necessary for the honour of God is best also for man. But just on the border line disputes are apt to arise between the advantages and interests of various particular laws; and thus the personal liberty to order one's own life, which in itself is a good, may be imperilled by demands for which there are no proofs. In this sense the probabilistic principle, lex dubia non obligat, in cases where there is reasonable doubt, maintains the right of freedom to assert itself."
Herrmann is of opinion that the preceding statements are likely to be injurious to the Church. He thinks that when I say the moral law continues in force as such, even though one duty may be released, I am revealing the unmoral mode of thought of the Church. As the moral law is the carrying out of what each perceives to be right, to release any one from it, as is permitted by Probabilism, is to destroy every moral obligation. I certainly, he considers, had no right to reproach him with having failed, in a ridiculous way, to understand me. If Herrmann requires us to look at things from his point of view, he must be prepared to look at them from ours; but he represents things to his readers as if a Catholic, feeling himself free from some one obligation, "has satisfied all the demands of morality, and for the rest can do as he likes" (p. 27), so that he has escaped from "the restrictions" of morality and can give free rein to his desires (p. 40). I was bound to refute this utterly false and unfair statement. The Catholic Church, as a matter of fact, upholds an idea of morality that lays hold of life more uniformly, and regulates it more strictly, than the Protestant Church does. By assuming that Herrmann had misunderstood this, I wished to make him a polite rejoinder; I was not then concerned with the fact that he has quite a different fundamental idea of morals.
The nearer Herrmann approaches to the problem, the more does he limit his universal condemnation of Probabilism as a theory destructive of conscience (which was the point that I primarily had to notice), to the fundamental principle of simple Probabilism, according to which one may, when in doubt, follow the less probable opinion. When he singled out this form of Probabilism as the type, as the "bone of contention," he ought to have acknowledged that the strong, perhaps at the present time preponderating tendency of St. Alphonsus is in direct opposition to this probabilistic principle. He would in that case have been obliged to represent the Pope's{7} recommendation of St. Alphonsus not as a confirmation by the Church of the opinion that he considers unmoral, but rather as a warning against it. In 1762 St. Alphonsus abandoned simple Probabilism, and thenceforth adhered steadily to the following principle: "If the opinion in favour of the law seems to us more solidly probable, we must follow it unconditionally, and may not adopt the opposite opinion in favour of freedom. The reason is that we, in order to act permissibly, must ascertain and follow the truth in doubtful matters, and where the truth cannot be clearly ascertained, we must at least adopt that opinion which comes nearer to the truth; and this is the more probable opinion."{8} Ter Haar points out to Herrmann that St. Alphonsus' teaching coincides in many respects with his own.{9} This discovery should have caused to vanish into smoke a great deal of the fiery indignation in Herrmann's reply.{10}
Herrmann desires me to state "more explicitly" how I stand with reference to this controversy. The voluminous literature on the subject seems to me to show two things: viz., that untenable arguments are occasionally adduced in support of both views, and these can easily be refuted; and that, on the other hand, there are difficult problems, connected not only with ethics, but with the theory of cognition, underlying the whole matter.
As to the theory of cognition, some agreement has been reached since the AEquiprobabilists admit higher probability as such not to be identical with moral certainty. Consequently they give up some grounds upon which St. Alphonsus relied, and base their system upon the theory that the sententia probabilior pro lege, being "nearer to truth" and affording "greater" guarantee that it is in objective agreement with the law of God, is the opinion binding upon the conscience.
Not much deliberation is needed to enable one to see that a preponderance of reasons, and a subjective probability flowing therefrom, is noetically possible without destroying the probability of the opposite opinion. The Bible, history, law, and politics supply us with hundreds of instances of this. The same thing must occur in questions of morals, both natural and positive. Many of these doubtful questions have been discussed in ethical works of every kind, and new ones constantly present themselves with the advance of civilization. The more such questions are separated from the life of individuals, and treated in an abstract and scientific manner, the easier will it be to show the relation between arguments and counter arguments, and to designate one opinion as theoretically probabilior and the other as probabilis. For instance, St. Alphonsus describes as probabilis the opinion that any price may be asked for curios, but as probabilior the opposite view, according to which the price is to be fixed by an expert's valuation.{11} Lugo calls probabilissima the opinion that in making restitution no attention need be paid to the order in which the debts were contracted, but he adds at once: Sed fateor mihi contrariam videri magis naturali aequitati consonam . . . quam tenent quamplures et gravissimi. The contrary opinion appears to be more in consonance with equity and is adopted by learned authors.{12} The more we venture upon new ground, and deal with questions of a personal nature, the more does greater probability appear to be simply a stronger intellectual tendency without any clearly recognized reasons, weighed one against another.
I think that noetic obscurity continues because modern AEquiprobabilism desires to regard every "more likely probable opinion" as a certainty, viz., the certainty that "it is more probable that an objective obligation exists than that it does not," and that this opinion "is more in accordance with the truth."{13}
This view is emphatically wrong, unless it means simply the mere security of self-consciousness. The inadequate relation between subjective mental process and objective facts is sufficiently indicated by the word probable; we do not arrive at what is objective by increasing the "appearance" of truth. In asking whether an obligation exists or not, we do not want an objective "more or less," but only "yes" or "no." As long as there are reasons in favour of both views which I cannot disprove, I must not say that the more probable opinion certainly comes nearer to the objective truth.{14} How frequently does it happen that what seems to be more probable proves eventually to have no reality at all! On the other hand, many probabilists raise an ill-considered objection and maintain that to weigh reasons for and against, and to establish the greater probability, as AEquiprobabilism requires, is a task beyond the powers of most Christians, since it needs great acumen and much intellectual exertion. The followers of St. Alphonsus declare a man to be free of all obligation where there is real doubt, which cannot be removed by a reasonable amount of reflection. Liberty ceases only where there seems to be better ground for believing the obligation to exist, i.e., when it is certe probabilior.
But does not this distinction between the probable and the true ultimately destroy all certain knowledge? Is it ever possible for a man really to arrive at the objective truth? A warning not to regard probability and truth as equivalent is a matter of common sense. The philosophical theory of cognition cautiously examines the criteria of our conception of truth, and makes certainty its decisive characteristic. We cannot here discuss why and to what extent it possesses a guarantee of approaching objective truth as closely as it is possible for man to do, but the emphasis with which philosophy distinguishes the state of certainty and assurance from other states of cognition has undoubtedly an important bearing on our question; conscience and certainty are closely connected with one another.
Is it a matter of course that a man's practical behaviour must invariably follow the various stages of cognition, even where they only show a preponderance on one side? Very little observation of life is needed to show us that this is not the case. The inheritor of property may retain it, even though his right of inheritance may be seriously questioned. The same is true of family rights. A judge may not give sentence against a man because there are strong grounds of suspicion, nor may a friend always abandon a friend for such reasons. The Church permits the veneration of relics until they have been proved not authentic, although doubts may have arisen. These instances do not, of course, settle the matter, but they show how sharp the distinction is in practical life between certainty and probability.
We are, however, concerned with the recognition and the performance of a moral act as such. As this is essentially interior in its accomplishment, it may occur to some one to say: "Whoever recognizes anything with greater probability as God's will, must in action carry out this line of thought. Any other course is contrary to the unity of the intellectual life and to the dignity of morality. A man must strive, as far as he can, to bring his will into agreement with the objective moral law; and one who acts contrary to the more probable opinion, favourable to the law, is not honestly striving to attain to this agreement or to moral truth."{15} Is this conclusion correct? A man's striving after truth may be quite honest, and yet lead him, because the reasons in favour of the duty do not convince him, to the probabilistic conclusion: "Just because of motives of honesty I must not declare anything to be a duty for myself and others, i.e., an obligation binding the will through the moral law, as long as my reason, the light of my will, perceives no compulsion, no intellectual determinatio ad unum." To act in accordance with what I assume to be my duty, is not in itself a means of solving the question of truth, whether God is really laying upon me an obligation.
Ter Haar, referring to Herrmann, discovers a further argument in the fact that a preponderance of reasons contains in itself an "initial enlightenment" of the mind; and he says it is wrong to disturb such a process by means of resolutions of a contrary nature. I shall come back to this argument, which is certainly not borne out by facts. It is hardly necessary to point out that in cases, such as we have been discussing, zealous Christians are apt to decide in favour of the stricter interpretation of duty, and that as a rule an obligation really arises, because a moral man must be true to himself, resist indolence, avoid setting a bad example to others, etc. With regard, however, to the debated point, I maintain: (1) that the obligation of acting in accordance with an opinion remains when the preponderance of reasons in support of it is so great as to amount to "conviction," in Herrmann's sense, and to proprium judicium in that of St. Alphonsus, since in this way the serious personal uncertainty is overcome. Probabilists will call this moral certainty, and from their point of view they will concur in my conclusion. But I must point out that in this case the abstract probability of the contrary opinion can still continue; only the individual judgment has risen superior to it to such a degree that we personally can no longer assent to that opinion. (2) Oftentimes in our minds reasons and counter reasons are apt to stand in such antagonism that, though we clearly perceive those on one side to be stronger, we dare not give a "decision," and though we are personally inclined to admit the obligation, we cannot abandon our attitude of reserved investigation. In this case we are not justified in representing the more probable opinion as binding. A case of this kind is more likely to occur when the law is of a positive nature, and its obligation depends upon historical or legal presumptions (as in questions of ecclesiastical law, the liturgy, civil duty, etc.), and also in particularly difficult questions affecting morality in general, or in such as have been confused by the way in which scholars have dealt with them.
The diverging opinions regarding the solution of such problems, and the debated point itself, have not the importance in the actual life of a Christian that our opponents ascribe to them. Herrmann fancies all morality to be undermined by Probabilism, for "all cases subject to a moral decision are obviously doubtful, until the moral deliberation has reached its end. . . . Every moral decision, which leads us on, is reached through a number of uncertainties, out of which we have to work our way. Sometimes our decision is still hampered by a doubt whether we have not made too little of motives tending in another direction. But only our own disposition, and the moral insight that we have won by the struggle, can lead us to a definite opinion" (p. 33). On this point Herrmann's views and my own do not coincide. The doctrines and practice of Catholicism have succeeded in making most duties so plain to the faithful, that their conscience does not need to waver, or to recall previous hard-won cognizance in order to come to a clear and definite opinion. The Ten Commandments and the fundamental virtues of Christianity are so well taught by the Church, that the most iguorant man recognizes, without any deliberation, that a temptation to theft, immorality, etc., is a temptation to sin. A Catholic is in the happy position of not being obliged to evolve all moral truths out of himself, nor of seeking a clue to moral progress in the struggles of his past life. He accepts the great simple truths of Christian morality first on faith, but then also with the honest assent of his reason; he hears in God's word the innermost voice of his own nature, and in accordance with its decisions he judges his own past and future, his failures and progress. Whoever observes the duties proclaimed as binding by Catholic morals, and whoever takes to heart the counsels given us as our via tutior in doubtful cases, and inculcated in sermons on morality, need feel no anxiety regarding his moral progress.
Others hold quite a contrary opinion and maintain that conscience is never in doubt, and that the "categorical imperative," or the "voice of God," always allows any one, who honestly seeks light, to know what is required of him at any given moment. This theory is contradicted by general experience, and also by the natural organization of our reason, which, starting with a few clear principles, has to think over and arrange the many difficult problems affecting the life of the individual. It is contradicted also by the laws of Revelation, which, being given to mankind in general and not to the individual, supplies it with the treasure of general truths contained in the Gospel, in the light of which men are to think, work, and struggle for themselves. On one point the two extreme views mentioned above agree with one another in opposition to the Catholic theory; this is in ignoring the objective character of the moral ideas and laws to which the individual has to rise by his investigations and to which he must intellectually and morally conform. This contrast appears most plainly in the harshness with which modern subjectivists reject as immoral any reference to other opinions or to theological authorities in the solution of problems of conscience. Herrmann goes so far as to call the recognition of such authorities, as weighty arguments against an individual opinion, "a disgraceful fact." In other branches of knowledge, as for instance history, it is regarded as a matter of course that we should examine the views and arguments of others, and no one hesitates to declare that any doubts on the subject of some particular question render an immediate decision impossible. In such cases it is perfectly obvious that the truth is something objective, which remains unaffected by our subjective judgments; but in philosophy, and especially in ethics, there is an idea that it is possible "to evolve truth for oneself." Because people do not really trust in the reality of a metaphysical result, they accept the view of some individual thinker as true. But since morality is assumed to be nothing but the expression of the individual disposition, varying according to nationality, periods, and persons, they do not trouble to seek moral truth, or to avail themselves of the help of others, but say: "The moral insight that we have won for ourselves decides the matter." Although I may be convinced that another man is my superior in intellectual powers and learning, I pay no attention to the opinion that he has expressed on some moral question, or on the application of some law. It does not occur to me that truth is something distinct from him and me, floating as an intellectual power over the minds of all, and that some other student may have come nearer to it than I have. No, truth is expected to conform itself to the varying modes of thought; "what is true for one is false for another."
What is personal and accidental undoubtedly affects moral decisions more than it affects theoretical investigations; for the question is what some particular person ought to do at some particular time. It is also true that feelings can often take the place of deliberate examination; sometimes an innate happy instinct, sometimes a deposit left in the mind by previous experience, can do this, but still the individual and accidental must be guided by what is general and permanent, and sentiment must justify itself before the tribunal of reason.{16} It is not enough to recognize the fundamental law of morality, "that an absolute Good, the highest aim of life," exists as the sole truth in that objective sense; for the question arises what is good, and what proximate aims correspond to the ultimate highest aim of life. Thus no reasonable man doubts that the words "beneficence," "gratitude," and "obedience" convey ideas that are always and everywhere morally binding. But why should we stop at these laws, universal though they be? Why should we not be permitted to seek objective truth also on questions for which all cannot at once give the same answer? Is it because the exceptions become more numerous, the more we come down to what is concrete? But even the ideas of beneficence, gratitude, and obedience have reference to methods of action that admit of exceptions. "Objective" is not equivalent to "absolute" legality; the secondary aims of morality, which often interfere with one another, and always have the primary, highest aim as their standard, make it impossible for these terms to be equivalent. But truth and the moral law nevertheless continue to exist, just as in nature the essential difference between animals and plants continues to exist, in spite of the uncertain border line between the two forms of life. Is it possible to think of obedience and disobedience as on a level, because one must occasionally disobey? Is beneficence not a virtue for the reason that one must sometimes refuse to confer a benefit?
In opposition to the above statements Herrmann insists again and again upon the points that uncertainty attaches to every movement in moral growth and progress, that we have to win the necessary insight for ourselves by means of a struggle, and this offers consequently to Probabilism the widest and most pernicious application (126, 131, 147). In answer to these assertions I wish to remark that moral growth is essentially a growth of the will and character, not of knowledge. (1) There are duties great and small, perfectly plain to every Christian, which make the greatest demands upon his desires and feelings; is not their performance a means of moral growth? Did not the apostles advance morally when preaching the Gospel, martyrs when resisting idolatry, virgins when remaining true to their vows? A heroic struggle is possible, in fact it is more auspicious, when the consciousness of duty has not first to be won. The common life, on the other hand, requires self-conquest in little things, but in it, too, there is no need for us to gain the necessary insight by a struggle. It is plain to every Christian that we are bound to avoid proud and uncharitable thoughts and to refrain from injurious, contemptuous, and false words. (2) The practice of virtues that are of counsel, not of precept, has nothing to do with the conscientious doubts of which we are now speaking. Do we not see that precisely people with a strong sense of morality make sacrifices, of self and to others, and undertake spiritual and social work, being tormented by no doubts as to the limits of duty, but urged on only by unfettered enthusiasm?
With regard to my last illustration Herrmann might argue that he did not recognize such a course, as going beyond the limits of duty; that every moral decision is the "recognition of what is unconditionally necessary" (pp. 127, 133). But here again the artificial and false character of his ethical teaching is revealed. On such a foundation as this is also based his claim that freedom from some doubtful duty amounts to immoral liberty of action. Is this true in actual life? Let us suppose it to be the duty of each mdividual to select a definite calling; are we to regard it as something unconditionally necessary that he should decide upon a certain sphere of action within that particular calling, in the same way as a professor or author might arrange a scheme for his literary labours? Of course no human eye can discover any law to this effect; and also with reference to God there is no such moral obligation in detail. The whole moral order, from the general down to the particular, in all its manifold forms, is intelligible only when we think of its aim, not of law. The Protestant theologian, Rolffs, acknowledges this when, in answer to Herrmann, he remarks that there are as a rule several possible ways of achieving a moral end. "Herrmann narrows down the idea of good in an ominous manner by considering an action to be moral only when a man independently follows what is unconditionally necessary. . . . Must we exclude from the sphere of moral actions all manifestations of love towards parents or children, of friendship and of patriotism, because they do not proceed from a clear consciousness of their being unconditionally binding?"{17}
According to Herrmann, in cases where decision is difficult this inner obligation reveals itself, inasmuch as the better course appears the more probable, but that the Church, by sanctioning Probabilism, gives a man the right "to ignore this enlightenment dawning within him or, in other words, to deny his own opinion" (pp. 40, 118). The Church, as we have seen, does not encourage this form of Probabilism any more than that of St. Alphonsus, to which this charge is quite inapplicable. But can the opposite opinion be justified at all in such a way? Whenever a probability is in process of formation, and investigation is not yet complete, all serious moralists require further deliberation, and, if possible, full enlightenment. The regulae reflexae of Probabilism find application only when it is impossible to arrive at direct certainty.{18}
Is Herrmann right in thinking that the dawning of greater probability always suggests the direction of one's own opinion, as it gradually becomes clear and definite? I doubt it. Whoever looks back at the various stages in his own personal development, will find that the transition to a more profound conception of duty, or to one more in accordance with circumstances, often begins with conjectures, and is uncertain and daring, whilst what was old and traditional continued to be the more probable. If, therefore, greater probability were to be regarded as equivalent to moral obligation, this would check the origin of many significant developments and destroy all courage to aim at ends that are new, hazardous, and still unproved.{19}
Our moral systems are scarcely concerned with such deep and lasting discussions. The different kinds of probability, with which they deal, are not identical with the various stages of personal development and enlightenment. They mostly affect external actions or positive duties that fall just on the border line and have very little influence on the formation of character. In many cases centuries of discussion have not settled the questions. Just as philosophical points of controversy are handed down from one generation to another, and just as legal and political problems remain unsolved, so there are questions in ethics to which decisive, uniform answers can seldom be given.
Herrmann attaches but little value to the consolation that a Catholic derives from knowing that the Church made clearly known our fundamental moral duties, and that the strife of opinions does, therefore, not extend to the foundations of character building. He admits that our thought is not allowed to undervalue universal truth, but, with regard to the "great truths of Christian morality" "there is not much trace of individual thought in these notions. They served their purpose centuries ago, when they were worked out, but now they reveal no trace of work done at the present time, and do not in fact call for it; they are therefore insipid and worthless" (p. 128). He advises me to consider "whether any action can be called morally good, unless it is a man's own individual expression of what is good, and whether the personal coming into existence of a single human being is not something so great that the fulfilment of all imaginable regulations is in no way comparable with it" (p.138). The fundamental principle underlying Herrmann's opinions on ethics is most clearly expressed here, and it can no longer be denied that it is opposed to Christianity and to the general idea of morality. The alternative that he suggests was considered by me long ago, with reference to morals as well as to philosophy and faith.{20}
The mental activity of an individual, and the coming into existence of a single human being, are no doubt a great good, but not the highest good. Far more important is the universal, superhuman, and eternal, for which each individual works and whence he derives life. There are destructive errors and phantoms of happiness, for which talented men labour intensively -- to their own destruction and that of society. Herrmann's view closely approaches the most extreme cultus of personality, so-called Solipsism. The life of an individual in its fluctuations and contrasts shows that its real standards, and the inmost sources of its value, are not in himself, but in things universally good and true. This fact appears especially in the Christian conception of God, whilst such idolatry of human life savours of pantheism. Right action is the individual expression of good, but not the expression of an individual good. The more we forget ourselves in the service of supreme, common ideals, the more will our personality develop; the better we familiarize ourselves with the "old truths of Christianity," the more light and courage shall we have in doing the right kind of work at the present time. A re-surrender to what is universal, the sacrifice of the ego for faith and the common weal, -- these have at all times been regarded as acts of the highest morality. The idea of making the promotion of the "intellectual work of an individual" the moral duty of man is a modern Utopia of sophistry.
From such a standpoint it is easy to see why the objectivity of moral laws, upon which I have laid so much stress, is denied. According to Herrmann there is only one moral law to which objectivity can be ascribed. And how does he define it? "We call objective that which we ourselves recognize as really existing" (p. 132). False, because in both ordinary and scientific language, a thing that exists is objective, and our cognition has to adapt itself to it. "That the thought of this law is a true thought, we perceive only because our volition receives through it its uniform direction, or obeys it" (p. 133). False again, because as we perceive the thought of the moral law to be a true thought, our will must obey it, and in obeying receives its uniform direction. Herrmann goes beyond Kant on this point and approaches psychological pragmatism.
The doctrine of ideas everywhere appears as the fundamental question in philosophical and ethical speculations. Modern philosophy has refused to admit that ideas are the support of intellectual life, because it regards the particular alone as true and important, and looks upon universal concepts and laws as mere additions made by the thinking mind, as symbols and generalizations, not as the thoughts of God, as models and laws of actual reality.
Nowhere are the results of this view so disastrous as in ethics. The forms and laws in nature remain unintelligible, if only the particular has any effect upon the mind and unity of thought is absent. But in the case of ethics, as soon as the law ceases to be intelligible, it ceases to have any force, for the moral laws affect not what is, but what ought to be. Neither an empirical study of reality, nor individual reason or sentiment, can evolve an obligation; it is produced only by a law laid down by the intellect and governing thought and volition.
In this way alone is a science of ethics possible. According to the purely human view of morality, ethics can only show in particular cases what experience teaches with regard to the effect of certain actions upon human welfare, or tell us what theories on the subject of life and its aims have been devised by particular nations or men eminent for their morality. In his "Ethik" Herrmann says, in reference to "many attractive accounts of ethical questions" given by modern philosophers (Paulsen), that they do not belong to ethics at all, but are the "work of artists, whose imagination is able to grasp and describe the experiences of others in most minute detail." He thinks that such concrete problems belong to the stage and novels, but are injurious in ethics, because they gloss over the truth that "each man must find out for himself what his moral obligations are" (p. 161).
This remark may be correct from the standpoint of the subjective conception of conscience; but when, nevertheless, intelligent moral philosophers attempt not merely to find reasons and definitions, but to give advice and lay down rules, they show sound reason, which tries to bring what they acknowledge to be true to recognition and practical accomplishment. A work on ethics that deals, as Herrmann's does, exclusively with questions of principle, fails to fulfil its whole task, and is generally obliged arbitrarily to disregard these limitations at certain points. As a matter of fact, Herrmann deals with such questions as marriage, participation in political life, social culture, etc., which, according to his theory, no more admit of a universal answer than many of Paulsen' s minute discussions or those of Catholic moralists. According to the testimony of history and life, there are no points on which individual feeling has more influence than in judging of marriage, culture, etc.
It is only when moral truths are considered objectively that ethics receives a historical character in the true sense of the word. When the whole moral ideal stands before us in living truth, -not as a mere generalization, but as a conception of God, dominating every particular, -- then, and not until then, can thinkers of every age work in common at giving a more complete account of the treasures of truth contained in morality, and at transmitting them to posterity as an ever-increasing inheritance. As long as the present theory is accepted, such investigation and teaching is impossible; every nation has its own way of thought, and every individual evolves out of his own inner consciousness his idea of moral truth. History stimulates men to self-action; the old truths are condemned as "insipid and worthless," when nothing new is produced from them; and people overlook the fact that there is in these truths something which must remain forever, and be a law controlling all new developments. Thus the organic growth of moral ideas is hindered, since it is possible only where respect is shown to tradition. We can trace such a growth within the Church; by the work of centuries and the activity of science, always sifting and criticising, many one-sided views of moral truths have been set aside, and we may look in the future for progress in eodem dogmate, eadem sententia.
Nothing but an objective view of morality gives it a social character. As Willmann rightly points out, ideas are forces binding men together. Only a person with no knowledge of the human soul could impose upon men, as a condition of moral independence, the duty of discovering in himself all the rules to govern his actions. To impose such a duty upon people in general would lead to a terrible fiasco. It would be equally impossible, and also contradictory, to impose upon any one as a moral law what is only the experience and individual opinion of some scholar or spiritual director. Moral truth must be recoguized as something general and higher, at which each man must aim in proportion to his mental ability to grasp it. Those who instruct the masses will then impress upon them the obvious truths of morality with all the emphasis due to their origin and importance; when doubts occur, they will ask the opinion of others, and be careful not to represent as binding duties what are only personal opinions, not shared by other serious and morally minded men. Spiritual directors will not try to compel their penitents, who think more liberally, though not carelessly, of certain matters, to adopt their own more severe views. This is the point of view of Probabilism. To understand it, we must take into account its bearing upon the direction of souls, which is no less important than its bearing upon the individual conscience, In the latter case, where an individual feels doubtful how to act, Probabilism is, rightly understood, modesty, respect for the judgment of others; and in the direction of souls it is tolerance, respect for the liberty of others. Probabilism is accused of making the conscience dependent upon the confessor; but the truth is that it does just the opposite. Probabilism renders it impossible for a confessor to impose his own opinions upon others as rules to govern their conduct, but at the same time he does not dismiss a penitent in a state of bewilderment, bidding him go and form a conscience for himself. Whoever knows the actual mental condition of the great majority of mankind, must be aware that no beneficial results could follow from this method of direction. To take into account what experienced directors and teachers of theology have thought on some point, affords a better guarantee for a correct determination of duty, than to refer some immature or doubtful penitent to his own personal deliberations.
Probabilism affects society also by maintaining amongst the people a level below which morality and Christianity must not descend. Those who charge Probabilism with rendering all morality doubtful and with undermining the common customs of Christianity, do not show much penetration. Discordant opinions are formed as soon as each man judges subjectively for himself; if every preacher and confessor were to inculcate his own views, the moral sense of the people would soon become uncertain. Probabilism aims at averting this danger; it demands that every priest without exception require whatever is plainly a law of God and the Church to be fulfilled; with regard to doubtful obligations, which some fulfil, considering them binding, a priest may express his own opinion, when consulted, but he may not declare them to be absolute duties, in opposition to other confessors. Both alike will warmly recommend the better course, and by sermons, admonitions, and example do their best to encourage their people to follow it. By eliminating personal divergencies of opinion from sermons and instructions, the Catholic Church protects uniformity in the practice of Christian morals and the authority of the ecclesiastical state. This self-restraint is not insincerity, but respect for the higher truth, at which we all aim, each according to his ability. It is an acknowledgment that the spirit of God, not that of man, is the standard of truth.{21}
Herrmann found much fault with us for allowing the decisions of "eminent authorities in the Church" to take the place of our own independent judgment. He still regards it as contemptible to accept a theological decision against one's own perception of greater probability (p. 129, etc.). Yet further on he writes: "In particular decisions a Christian, of course, allows himself to be guided by the authority of persons whom he believes to possess higher moral enlightenment than he has himself. In this course he follows his own mind, if it is really an inward submission to moral force. Withal the consciousness of his own responsibility remains" (p. 131). Herrmann is here trying to set up a line of demarcation against Probabilism.
In accordance with his theory of the awakening of moral consciousness through the impression produced by persons regarded as exemplary, Herrmann speaks of submission to moral force. Here he is shifting the point under discussion; hitherto he had been speaking of moral enlightenment. We can believe also men to possess such enlightenment who make no personal impression upon us at all, such as the scholars and thinkers approved by the Church. "But the man who submits to moral force, yet follows his own opinion, which the Catholic does not do in such case." Herrmann attempts to produce this impression when he describes the probabilistic maxim as a denial of one's own perception of what is right; but we have already seen that this is an unfair statement, since the whole aim of Probabilism undeniably is to supply what is wanting to our perception, and so to secure certainty.
Does Herrmann regard it as contemptible if a man acts in accordance with authority, rather than follow what he recognizes as better, i.e., more probable? Is not this just what a Christian does, who, in Herrmann's sense, is guided by the authority of others? If he really believes them to possess "higher moral enlightenment," if he does not merely consult them, but allows himself "to be guided" by them, he is plainly acting quite consistently in subjecting his opinion, which is by no means certainty, to their judgment. In so doing he would, of course, be acting as much against Herrmann's principle of self-recognized morality as any Catholic who proceeds according to probabilistic principles. As a matter of fact, our books on morals are useful only to theologians and priests. A Christian in need of direction acts just as Herrmann suggests, and has recourse to living persons in whom he feels confidence, and who, in his opinion, possess more light and strength than he does.
In conclusion I may draw attention to a fact of history. As soon as Protestant ethics abandoned Luther's impossible principles regarding law and liberty, a casuistic and probabilistic treatment of morals became automatically necessary. One of the noblest Protestant theologians, Georg Calixtus, lays down, word for word, the "Jesuitical" principle; "If of two opinions one is more probable, it is not necessary to choose the more probable; it is lawful also to choose the less probable, provided that a solid foundation or authority for it is not lacking."{22}
Let us also take to heart a saying of Goethe's on the harmful results of rigorism, although we cannot endorse all he says. He stated that: "Thousands are enemies of religion who would have loved Christ as a friend, had He been represented to them as a friend and not as an angry tyrant, ever ready to launch His thunderbolts wherever highest perfection is not attained. Let us give expression to what has long been our conviction, namely, that Voltaire, Hume, La Mettrie, Helvetius, Rousseau, and their whole school, did not injure morality and religion nearly as much as the rigorous, morbid Pascal and his followers."{23}
{1} All scientific discussion becomes impossible if, after the clear statement on this subject in the first edition of this work, Herrmann, in his answer to it, continues to maintain that Probabilism encourages men "not to follow their own moral perccptions" or "to neglect what they themselves know to be right" (pp. 33, 143, 146, etc.).
{2} Com. on St. Thomas, I, II, q. 19, a. 6, concl. 3.
{3} Ter Haar, Das Dekret des P. Innocenz XI, 1904, p. 29, seq.; cf. also supra, p. 91, note 2.
{4} Cf., e.g., St. Alphonsus, Theol. mor., I. V, ii. XLIV; Gury, I, 31.
{5} S. theol., I, II, q. 100, a. 10 ad 2.
{6} Cathrein, Moralphilosophie, 2d ed., I, 368, seq.
{7} The principle that freedom is "in possession," as opposed to the law, is often based upon the argument that logically physical liberty, the liberum arbitrium of the creature, is antecedent to all moral law. But here is a serious confusion of thought. For this kind of liberty is never dispossessed; even a certain duty addresses itself to the free will. If we are speaking of moral freedom, of the libertas a lege, this is not antecedent to law, not even logically. In the idea of the creature, determination for God is given before moral free will, as, in theory, the aim is antecedent to the means. In physical volition also, the voluntas ut nature, i.e., the turning of the will to the highest Good, is antecedent to the votuntas ut ratio, i.e., free will. St. Alphonsus wisely guards against all misunderstanding by explicitly limiting the principium possessionis to the praecepta particularia (I, 78) as we have done above.
{8} St. Alphonsus, Theol. mor. (ed. Gaudé), I, n. 54.
{9} In confirmation of this statement I may refer to a characteristic passage in the seventh edition of the "Theologia moralis" (Gaudé, I. c.): Quoties enim intellectui diserte apparet veritatem multo magis stare pro lege quam pro libertate, tunc voluntas nequit prudenter et sine culpa parti minus tutac adhaerere; siquidem eo casu horno non proprio iudicio seu propriae credulitati innixus operaretur sed potius per quandam conatum, quam sua voluntate in intellectum inferret.
{10} I do not, however, agree with Ter Haar in considering Herrmann an AEquiprobabilist. As he requires certainty or a higher degree of probability in order to justify any moral decision, he seems to be rather a Probabiliorist. His opposition to both forms of Probahilism is seen in the fact that they acknowledge no obligation in cases of real doubt, where the probability is equal. Herrmann seldom notices this possibility, although, as a matter of fact, it is of frequent occurrence; otherwise he would most likely have seen that his general condemnation of Probabilism is untenable. (Cf. also Koch, Moraltheologie, 2d ed., p. 104, and the quotations given there.)
{11} I 808.
{12} De iust. dist. 20, a. 146.
{13} Ter Haar, pp. 5, 25.
{14} Herrmann arrives at a false conclusion: "It is taken for granted that a Catholic Christian possesses an important piece of knowledge on this point; viz., that he himself regards one opinion as the more correct" (p. 123). I might, of course, with equal right maintain absolute doubt to be certainty, since a man in doubt knows with certainty that he doubts.
{15} Ter Haar, p. 11.
{16} See supra, pp. 86, seq.
{17} Theol. Rundschau, 1901, p. 491, etc.
{18} Lehmkuhl, 10 ed., I, n. 50: Ratio autem, cur sufficiens diligentia, eaque diversa, pro rei gravitate et personae agentis condicione, praemitti debeat, ea est, quod aliter temere periculo laedendae legis sese exponat, atque eo ipso debitam legi obedientiam et reverentiam, utpote quae primo obliget ad cognoscendam legem, violet. Aertnys, theol. mor. 2d ed., I, n. 56: Dubium de actionis honestate . . . per principia reflexa deponi nequit nisi praemissa debita diligentia in inquirenda veritate rei. Ratio est, quia homo semper in actibus suis deliberatis prudenter se gerere tenetur; prudentia autem dictat, ut pro dubio deponendo imprimis diligentia in veritatis inventione adhibeatur.
{19} Linsenmann emphasizes this argument in his article on Law and Liberty (reprinted by A. Miller, "F. X. v. Linsenmann's Ges. Schriften," 1912, I, 104). He regards Probabilism as being in some sense conducive to progress. The rest of his criticism is not altogether sound; he is wrong in speaking of doubtful obligation and the conflict of duties as essentially the same (p. 75); and also in connecting Probabilism with Nominalistic theology (p. 86). Cf. supra, p. 202, and infra, p. 208.
{20} Cf. my article in the "Hochland," fourth year of publication, No. 8, Die Persönlichkeit und ihre Stellung zur Ideenwelt.
{21} As we have seen (supra, p. 74), H. Grotius praises the scholastic writers for their scientific modesty. The air of infallibility with which many modern students of ethics decide principles and individual questions, is only apparently expedient to safeguard morality from "vacillations." Others display the same certainty in stating a contrary opinion, and the result is uncertainty of a much worse kind than is ever produced where thought is governed by greater self-restraint.
{21} Rolffs (op. cit., p. 496) regards "autonomy," such as Herrmann would have, as impossible. "In the extent to which Herrmann desires it, it could not be endured even by strong characters, as it would render the burden of personal responsibility intolerable." Schell remarks in his "Christus" (16th-17th thousand, p. 127): "Would it be possible to extol Jesus as the founder of a religion of . . . unique importance, if He had not recognized and carefully kept in view tbe real disposition of the average man? Could One who was to be regarded as the chief benefactor of mankind overlook the fact that men as a rule do not live with own thoughts and perceptions, nor with duties and aims discovered for themselves?"
{22} Epit. Theol. mor. Helmstad., 1632, p. 27; cf. Gross, p. 282.
{23} Goethe's Werke (Hempel, 1st ad.), XXIX, 43. F. Maurer remarks, in the Zeitschrift für kath. Theologie, 1910, p. 404, that the Roman law, which undeniably bears the impress of profound knowledge of human life, repeatedly professes the maxim: In re dubia benigniorem interpretationem sequi, non minus justius est, quam tutius. Maurer does not overlook the difference between law and morality.