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different that trespass is almost impossible, however much we may talk upon the same theme. So I trust you will not let this restrict your presentation.

The Zoologist: Thank you, but I may find I have quite enough to do to develop my first heading.

A living thing, as long as it remains, or exists as a living thing, must maintain certain definite relations to the environment. It is "conditioned" very definitely by external nature. For example let us consider the Amoeba: a tiny little mass of living matter, consisting of but a single cell and nearly as primitive as any living thing can be. Yet it must, to exist, provide for the introduction into itself of (a) matter, for the repair of its substance; and (b) energy, with the matter, to be con

) verted into its "vital energy. That is to say, it must, if it is to exist, look after its immediate individual welfare, be egoistic. This is the first and great commandment of Nature, by which the most primitive as well as the highest forms of life are conditioned: "preserve thyself."

A second commandment of Nature is : "perpetuate thyself.” Whatever may be the cause of reproduction (and Biology offers some very definite statements on this subject), the conditions are such that an individual of a species must make more like itself.

Nature does not tolerate any forms that ignore their “duty" to the species—individualism is not permitted to reach its logical extreme. And often the obedience to Nature's second mandate runs directly counter to individual interests. Nevertheless there are now no species that place individual before racial welfare. For if such there were at any time, these have died as species. Nature does not approve of "race-suicide.”

Thus at the very beginnings of life, as in its' most complex forms, we see these two laws ruthlessly enforced—“preserve thyself” and “preserve thy kind.” The violation of either entails the blotting out of the form that disobeys. But already we see evidence of the wider end dominating the narrower, the preservation of the race taking precedence over the preservation of the individual.

When, now, we pass to such an organism as the Hydra, the small fresh-water polyp, a relative of the jelly-fish and coral, we find, not one cell, but a large number of these little organic units, arranged in two layers ;-an outer layer, lined by an inner one. Here we have a new cell environment and in consequence a new type of "conditioned" existence. Each cell must maintain itself. But there is something more that the cells must do. They must work not only for themselves but for their fellows, and their fellows in turn must work for them.

The outer cells provide for the relating of the whole mass of cells to the environment. In return for this they are relieved of the feeding functions, as they receive supplies from the inner layer, that feeds not only for itself but also for the outer protective layer. Thus we have a primitive community, composed, so to speak, of two groups or castes, a soldier class and an agricultural class, while of course there are those cell units that have as their special task the reproduction or perpetuation of the whole colony.

Thus no cell is entirely sufficient unto itself. It must, it is true, carry on the same essential vital activities as a solitary amaba. But now, it also owes a duty to the other members of its colony, who, in turn, are specialized for other tasks and owe duties to it. Interdependence of differentiated units replaces the independent egoism of solitary forms. Altruism is a direct result of association and differentiation.

From this brief sketch two things should be clear: First, how an individuality of an higher order is established by the union and specialization of first order individuals. And, second, what "duties" of mutual support and co-operation are imposed upon the primary units by such social relations. Let us now extend our view to higher groups, and consider such communities as are formed by wolves, or ants, bees, wasps, and the like.

Here, as in the case of the cells in the Polyp, we see the same mutual dependence or interdependence of units, the same subordination of the individual to the common good in which all must share. A pack of wolves will hunt as a unit, and pull down together what one would be powerless to overcome. The welfare of each depends upon the welfare of the whole. No matter how well fed and strong a single wolf may be, if his pack is feeble and diminished he is himself in danger. It pays to share the kill; and that pack whose members put aside their personal quarrels on the chase will survive in competition with those who do not. To care for one's fellow, to love one's neighbor as oneself, is a commandment founded upon biological efficiency. It does not contradict, but both supplements and is necessary to, the other commandment of self preservation.

Yet there are times when these two commandments conflict, when the preservation of the community demands the sacrifice of the individual. Here the lower orders of Nature present us with most striking instances of altruism and self-sacrifice. Consider, for example, the life of the royal bee. You all know how the life of the hive centers around its queen,who lays all the eggs, and upon whom thus rests the perpetuation of the entire colony. There cannot be two queens in a single hive-if there are, civil war results and one or the other is killed. Yet "princess" bees must be raised, both to guard against the hive being left through accident without a queen, and also to lead the swarms and to furnish queens to the new hives. Here then would be a danger of internal dissention and strife were it not that the princess bees provide for their own death. The royal larvæ construct only imperfect cocoons leaving open a space where they may be stung to death if unneeded. In a way it is suicide.

But it is the same kind of suicide that the soldier commits in storming a battery, going himself to certain death that others may survive, or that a union may endure.

Human society is no less an organism than is a pack of wolves or a hive of bees. There is among men to-day the same specialization and differentiation of task and power and function as we saw among the cells of the simple hydra. Men are not independent, but interdependent; and the laws of the biological efficiency of organisms apply to our civilizations, as to our bodies. We have seen that these laws require of the individual two things—the discharge of two kinds of duties, the one egoistic, the other altruistic ;—he must provide for his own welfare and for the welfare of his fellows. And if these two clash, his duty to himself and his duty to the whole of which he is a part, then the wider end takes precedence over the narrower.

This is, in briefest outline, what I believe to be the "historical justification of our human standards.” It does not matter at all whether the wolf and the bee act as they do consciously or unconsciously; whether generosity and self sacrifice with them be blind and compelled, or deliberate and willed; the point that is of importance is this: those forms of life which obey these laws survive; those that disobey, die. And this has been as true of men as of animals. The savage may not have seen why he should do this and avoid that, but the fact remains that only those tribes survived who consciously or unconsciously obeyed these mandates of Nature. Our ethical standards are what they are because of this fact. They are in every way similar to all other evolutionary characteristics.

From this view it will be seen that many of our human terms receive very precise definition. Right is what furthers both individual interests and the interests of the whole group. Wrong is the reverse. Good is what is useful. Evil is that which interferes with the discharge of personal or social functions.

Let me now turn for a moment to my second heading and consider the relation of this natural system of ethics to the other elements that enter into the religious complex. As a result of the causes I have attempted to outline, primitive man finds himself with certain feelings of compulsion towards this or that course, often towards a self sacrifice he cannot explain on rational and immediate grounds. He is living under tribal order and law, and the compulsion he is familiar with is the power and authority of his chief-enforced with club and spear. Therefore it is natural for him to ascribe this inner instinct to some external authority,—the will of some god or spirit chief.

I think we can even see how he comes by this latter idea. For in dreams he sees his friends and enemies, and talks and acts with them. Thus he is led to a belief in another world than the outer one around him. Moreover he still sees in dreams those who have died, and thus he is led to think of their continued existence. From this the idea of disembodied spirits and of immortality is formed. Thence the path is plain, and all natural forces, as well as all that happens to the man himself are viewed as the activity of some one or other of these spirit chiefs and heroes. Gradually greater and greater power is ascribed to them. As man moulds ships, so the gods mould mountains, send rain and drought at will, and play with lightning and with storm, until finally the notion of an omnipotent god, as well as an omniscient one, completes the series.

The Editor: Is not this a pretty cold view of life?

The Zoologist: It does not matter whether it is cold or not provided it is true.

The Editor: Many things are true, yet none contains all the truth. What I mean to ask is this: Suppose we grant you all that you have said, what follows? In what way does this bear upon religion? Have you in it a view of life which satisfies you, or which helps you to live?

The Zoologist: Yes, I have. I suppose to some it would seem cold, but to me it is sufficient. If I find the basis for my conduct and ethical ideals in the very laws of life, what is surer or more fundamental? If it is not a religious view in the usual sense it certainly arouses in me that cosmic emotion which I put forward as the basis of religion. Indeed that is just what I tried to make clear: that these were the facts which it seemed to me did underlie first ethics and then religion.

The Mathematician: Let us then look again at certain of their implications. As I understood you, you began by considering the life of the single cell, which acted as though subject to but two desires : self preservation and the preservation of its kind, which last you spoke of as being in one form or another really an act of self sacrifice. From this you passed to a consideration of more complex organisms, such as the jelly-fish. Here you showed that while each component cell carried on its own life it still so co-ordinated itself to its fellows and to the whole of which it is a part that the higher single life of this whole became possible. This co-ordination you showed to be at once egoistic and altruistic in character and you put it forward as the basis of our present ethical ideals, tracing its action through the communities of insects and animals to primitive and civilized man.

Now I would like to ask a question. Is it a legitimate inference that, as the co-ordination of the cells of the jelly-fish enabled each to live with the richer, fuller life of the whole, so obedience to ethical standards would lead man to a higher, wider type of consciousness and existence than that of his present separate personality? Does not your argument suggest that man is part of a far greater whole; that ethics and religion co-ordinate him with that whole and should enable him to broaden and


deepen his life and consciousness until it is one with that higher consciousness of which his is but an element?

The Zoologist: We must remember, however, that there can be nothing to this higher complex that is not in the elements themselves.

The Author: Surely you do not mean that. The combinations of elements may be totally different from any one of the constituent parts.

The Zoologist: Certainly. All I said was that this whole was compounded from the elements. Whatever the whole is must be made up from something in the elements.

The Social Philosopher: But is even that certain? May not the properties of a whole be quite distinct from the properties of its parts, even when taken together ?

The Mathematician: Bolzano's example of a drinking glass would illustrate. Viewed as a whole we perceive it holds water. Conceive it as a collection of broken parts and no such inference is plain.

The Zoologist: I am quite willing to take your illustration as my

A drinking glass can only be formed from elements capable of being so placed together that there are no gaps. This is a property which must be present in the element-viz.: that they fit one into the other; though you will notice that this is a meaningless characteristic when a single element is alone considered. Anything that is not in some way in the elements themselves can be no more than a mere abstraction.

The Social Philosopher: How about the water itself? Its characteristic property of wetness is absent from both the hydrogen and oxygen which form it. Or, better still, consider a clock and the ability to tell time. Surely time is not a mere abstraction. Yet you will not find it compounded from the brass and steel. Again, to take the mathematician's point, are we not all familiar with the difference between mass psychology and that of the individual. Consider the way in which a mob is moved to frenzy—to panic or to rage, or any emotional excitement. Think of the mob ferocity; the lynchings, the burnings, the torturings, which are nothing but the manifestations of this mob frenzy, while the individuals comprising it may be of themselves quite mild mannered quiet people. These are not mere abstractions.

The Editor: Is it not probable that to each individual amoeba the jelly-fish is a mere abstraction ?

The Zoologist: I would contend that aqueosity is in fact, a property already present in the hydrogen and oxygen, and certainly everything that is done in a lynching is done by individuals. In that sense the mob is a mere abstraction. The coming together of many men and their reaction one upon the other, brings out what would otherwise not have been revealed. But it was there, nevertheless. Indeed I think this is a matter of considerable importance, too often overlooked. Whatever is present in the highest organism must also have been present, and always

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