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Title: Philosophy and the Social Problem
Author: Will Durant
Release date: June 5, 2013 [eBook #42880]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PHILOSOPHY
AND THE SOCIAL PROBLEM ***](https://image.slidesharecdn.com/2031465-250526064455-d5f2378a/85/Agrotechnology-A-Philosophical-Introduction-R-Paul-Thompson-60-320.jpg)
![PART I
HISTORICALAPPROACH
PHILOSOPHY AND THE SOCIAL PROBLEM
INTRODUCTION
THE purpose of this essay is to show: first, that the social problem has
been the basic concern of many of the greater philosophers; second, that an
approach to the social problem through philosophy is the first condition of
even a moderately successful treatment of this problem; and third, that an
approach to philosophy through the social problem is indispensable to the
revitalization of philosophy.
By “philosophy” we shall understand a study of experience as a whole,
or of a portion of experience in relation to the whole.
By the “social problem” we shall understand, simply and very broadly,
the problem of reducing human misery by modifying social institutions. It
is a problem that, ever reshaping itself, eludes sharper definition; for misery
is related to desire, and desire is personal and in perpetual flux: each of us
sees the problem unsteadily in terms of his own changing aspirations. It is
an uncomfortably complicated problem, of course; and we must bear in
mind that the limit of our intention here is to consider philosophy as an
approach to the problem, and the problem itself as an approach to
philosophy. We are proposing no solutions.
Let us, as a wholesome measure of orientation, touch some of the
mountain-peaks in philosophical history, with an eye for the social interest
that lurks in every metaphysical maze. “Aristotle,” says Professor
Woodbridge, “set treatise-writers the fashion of beginning each treatise by
reviewing previous opinions on their subject, and proving them all
wrong.”[1] The purpose of the next five chapters will be rather the opposite:
we shall see if some supposedly dead philosophies do not admit of
considerable resuscitation. Instead of trying to show that Socrates, Plato,](https://image.slidesharecdn.com/2031465-250526064455-d5f2378a/85/Agrotechnology-A-Philosophical-Introduction-R-Paul-Thompson-66-320.jpg)
![permanence without sacrificing plasticity and individual uniqueness to
regimentation,—that has been the task of philosophers, that is the task of
philosophers.
We should be thankful that it is. Who knows but that within our own
time may come at last the forging of an effective natural ethic?—an
achievement which might be the most momentous event in the history of
our world.
III
Individualism in Athens
THE great ages in the history of European thought have been for the most
part periods of individualistic effervescence: the age of Socrates, the age of
Cæsar and Augustus, the Renaissance, the Enlightenment;—and shall we
add the age which is now coming to a close? These ages have usually been
preceded by periods of imperialist expansion: imperialism requires a
tightening of the bonds whereby individual allegiance to the state is made
secure; and this tightening, given a satiety of imperialism, involves an
individualistic reaction. And again, the dissolution of the political or
economic frontier by conquest or commerce breaks down cultural barriers
between peoples, develops a sense of the relativity of customs, and issues in
the opposition of individual “reason” to social tradition.
A political treatise attributed to the fourth-century B.C. reflects the
attitude that had developed in Athens in the later fifth century. “If all men
were to gather in a heap the customs which they hold to be good and noble,
and if they were next to select from it the customs which they hold to be
base and vile, nothing would be left over.”[2] Once such a view has found
capable defenders, the custom-basis of social organization begins to give
way, and institutions venerable with age are ruthlessly subpœnaed to appear
before the bar of reason. Men begin to contrast “Nature” with custom,
somewhat to the disadvantage of the latter. Even the most basic of Greek
institutions is questioned: “The Deity,” says a fourth-century Athenian
Rousseau, “made all men free; Nature has enslaved no man.”[3] Botsford
speaks of “the powerful influence of fourth-century socialism on the
intellectual class.”[4] Euripides and Aristophanes are full of talk about a
movement for the emancipation of women.[5] Law and government are](https://image.slidesharecdn.com/2031465-250526064455-d5f2378a/85/Agrotechnology-A-Philosophical-Introduction-R-Paul-Thompson-69-320.jpg)
![examined: Anarcharsis’ comparison of the law to a spider’s web, which
catches small flies and lets the big ones escape, now finds sympathetic
comprehension; and men arise, like Callicles and Thrasymachus, who
frankly consider government as a convenient instrument of mass-
exploitation.
IV
The Sophists
THE cultural representatives of this individualistic development were the
Sophists. These men were university professors without a university and
without the professorial title. They appeared in response to a demand for
higher instruction on the part of the young men of the leisure class; and
within a generation they became the most powerful intellectual force in
Greece. There had been philosophers, questioners, before them; but these
early philosophers had questioned nature rather than man or the state. The
Sophists were the first group of men in Greece to overcome the natural
tendency to acquiesce in the given order of things. They were proud men,—
humility is a vice that never found root in Greece,—and they had a buoyant
confidence in the newly discovered power of human intelligence. They
assumed, in harmony with the spirit of all Greek achievement, that in the
development and extension of knowledge lay the road to a sane and
significant life, individual and communal; and in the quest for knowledge
they were resolved to scrutinize unawed all institutions, prejudices,
customs, morals. Protagoras professed to respect conventions,[6] and
pronounced conventions and institutions the source of man’s superiority to
the beast; but his famous principle, that “man is the measure of all things,”
was a quiet hint that morals are a matter of taste, that we call a man “good”
when his conduct is advantageous to us, and “bad” when his conduct
threatens to make for our own loss. To the Sophists virtue consisted, not in
obedience to unjudged rules and customs, but in the efficient performance
of whatever one set out to do. They would have condemned the bungler and
let the “sinner” go. That they were flippant sceptics, putting no distinction
of worth between any belief and its opposite, and willing to prove anything
for a price, is an old accusation which later students of Greek philosophy
are almost unanimous in rejecting.[7]](https://image.slidesharecdn.com/2031465-250526064455-d5f2378a/85/Agrotechnology-A-Philosophical-Introduction-R-Paul-Thompson-70-320.jpg)
![knowledge that brings self-command,—such a man will not be deceived by
the tragedy of distance, by the apparent smallness of the future good
alongside of the more easily appreciable good that lies invitingly at hand.
Hence the moral importance of dialectic, of cross-examination, of concept
and definition: we must learn “how to make our ideas clear”; we must ask
ourselves just what it is that we want, just how real this seeming good is.
Dialectic is the handmaiden of virtue; and all clarification is morality.
VI
The Meaning of Virtue
THIS is frank intellectualism, of course; and the best-refuted doctrine in
philosophy. It is amusing to observe the ease with which critics and
historians despatch the Socratic ethic. It is “an extravagant paradox,” says
Sidgwick,[8] “incompatible with moral freedom.” “Nothing is easier,” says
Gomperz,[9] “than to detect the one-sidedness of this point of view.” “This
doctrine,” says Grote,[10] “omits to notice, what is not less essential, the
proper conditions of the emotions, desires, etc.” “It tended to make all
conduct a matter of the intellect and not of the character, and so in a sense
to destroy moral responsibility,” says Hobhouse.[11] “Himself blessed with
a will so powerful that it moved almost without friction,” says Henry
Jackson,[12] “Socrates fell into the error of ignoring its operations, and was
thus led to regard knowledge as the sole condition of well-doing.” “Socrates
was a misunderstanding,” says Nietzsche;[13] “reason at any price, life
made clear, cold, cautious, conscious, without instincts, opposed to the
instincts, was in itself only a disease, ... and by no means a return to
‘virtue,’ to ‘health,’ and to happiness.” And the worn-out dictum about
seeing the better and approving it, yet following the worse, is quoted as the
deliverance of a profound psychologist, whose verdict should be accepted
as a final solution of the problem.
Before refuting a doctrine it is useful to try to understand it. What could
Socrates have meant by saying that all real virtue is intelligence? What is
virtue?
A civilization may be characterized in terms of its conception of virtue.
There is hardly anything more distinctive of the Greek attitude, as
compared with our own, than the Greek notion of virtue as intelligence.](https://image.slidesharecdn.com/2031465-250526064455-d5f2378a/85/Agrotechnology-A-Philosophical-Introduction-R-Paul-Thompson-73-320.jpg)
![Consider the present connotations of the word virtue: men shrink at having
the term applied to them; and “nothing makes one so vain,” says Oscar
Wilde, “as being told that one is a sinner.” During the Middle Ages the
official conception of virtue was couched in terms of womanly excellence;
and the sternly masculine God of the Hebrews suffered considerably from
the inroads of Mariolatry. Protestantism was in part a rebellion of the
ethically subjugated male; in Luther the man emerges riotously from the
monk. But as people cling to the ethical implications of a creed long after
the creed itself has been abandoned, so our modern notion of virtue is still
essentially mediæval and feminine. Virginity, chastity, conjugal fidelity,
gentility, obedience, loyalty, kindness, self-sacrifice, are the stock-in-trade
of all respectable moralists; to be “good” is to be harmless, to be not “bad,”
to be a sort of sterilized citizen, guaranteed not to injure. This sheepish
innocuousness comes easily to the natively uninitiative, to those who are
readily amenable to fear and prohibitions. It is a static virtue; it contracts
rather than expands the soul; it offers no handle for development, no
incentive to social stimulation and productivity. It is time we stopped
calling this insipidly negative attitude by the once mighty name of virtue.
Virtue must be defined in terms of that which is vitally significant in our
lives.
And therefore, too, virtue cannot be defined in terms of individual
subordination to the group. The vitally significant thing in a man’s life is
not the community, but himself. To ask him to consider the interests of the
community above his own is again to put up for his worship an external,
transcendent god; and the trouble with a transcendent god is that he is sure
to be dethroned. To call “immoral” the refusal of the individual to meet
such demands is the depth of indecency; it is itself immoral,—that is, it is
nonsense. The notion of “duty” as involving self-sacrifice, as essentially
duty to others, is a soul-cramping, funereal notion, and deserves all that
Ibsen and his progeny have said of it.[14] Ask the individual to sacrifice
himself to the community, and it will not be long before he sacrifices the
community to himself. Granted that, in the language of Heraclitus, there is
always a majority of fools, and that self-sacrifice can be procured by the
simple hypnotic suggestion of post-mortem remuneration: sooner or later
come doubt and disillusionment, and the society whose permanence was so
easily secured becomes driftwood on the tides of time. History means that if
it means anything.](https://image.slidesharecdn.com/2031465-250526064455-d5f2378a/85/Agrotechnology-A-Philosophical-Introduction-R-Paul-Thompson-74-320.jpg)
![phrase are too apt to consider it an excuse for lives that reek with the heat of
passion and smack of insufficient evolution. These people need to be
reminded—all the more forcibly since the most palatable and up-to-date
philosophies exalt instinct and deride thought—that one cannot be
thoroughly one’s self except by deliberation and intelligence. To act
indeliberately is not to be, but in great part to cancel, one’s self. For
example, the vast play of direct emotional expression is almost entirely
indeliberate: if you are greatly surprised, your lips part, your eyes open a
trifle wider, your pulse quickens, your respiration is affected; and if I am
surprised, though you be as different from me as Hyperion from a satyr, my
respiration will be affected, my pulse will quicken, my eyes will open a
trifle wider, and my lips will part;—my direct reaction will be essentially
the same as yours. The direct expression of surprise is practically the same
in all the higher animals. Darwin’s classical description of the expression of
fear is another example; it holds for every normal human being; not to
speak of lower species. So with egotism, jealousy, anger, and a thousand
other instinctive reaction-complexes; they are common to the species, and
when we so react, we are expressing not our individual selves so much as
the species to which we happen to belong. When you hit a man because he
has “insulted” you, when you swagger a little after delivering a successful
speech, when you push aside women and children in order to take their
place in the rescue boat, when you do any one of a million indeliberate
things like these, it is not you that act, it is your species, it is your ancestors,
acting through you; your acquired individual difference is lost in the
whirlwind of inherited impulse. Your act, as the Scholastics phrased it, is
not a “human” act; you yourself are not really acting in any full measure of
yourself, you are but playing slave and mouth-piece to the dead. But subject
the inherited tendencies to the scrutiny of your individual experience, think,
and your action will then express yourself, not in any abbreviated sense, but
up to the hilt. There is no merit, no “virtue,” no development in playing the
game of fragmentary impulses, in living up to the past; to be moral, to grow,
is to be not part but all of one’s self, to call into operation the acquired as
well as the inherited elements of one’s character, to be whole. So many of
us invite ruin by actions which do not really express us, but are the voice of
the merest fragment of ourselves,—the remainder of us being meanwhile
asleep.[15] To be whole, to be your deliberate self, to do what you please but
only after considering what you really please, to follow your own ideals](https://image.slidesharecdn.com/2031465-250526064455-d5f2378a/85/Agrotechnology-A-Philosophical-Introduction-R-Paul-Thompson-76-320.jpg)
![Be it granted, none the less, that ends are dictated by desire, and that if
morality is intelligence, there can be no question of the morality of any end
per se. That, strangely, is not a refutation of the Socratic ethic so much as an
essential element of it and its starting-point. Every desire has its own initial
right; morality means not the suppression of desires, but their coördination.
What that implies for society we shall see presently; for the individual it
implies that he is immoral, not when he seeks his own advantage, but when
he does not really behave for his own advantage, when some narrow
temporary purpose upsets perspective and overrides a larger end.[16] What
we call “self-control” is the permanent predominance of the larger end;
what we call weakness of will is instability of perspective. Self-control
means an intelligent judgment of values, an intelligent coördination of
motives, an intelligent forecasting of effects. It is far-sight, far-hearing, an
enlargement of the sense; it hears the weakened voice of the admonishing
past, it sees results far down the vista of the future; it annihilates space and
time for the sake of light. Self-control is coördinated energy,—which is the
first and last word in ethics and politics, and perhaps in logic and
metaphysics too. Weak will means that desires fall out of focus, and taking
advantage of the dark steal into action: it is a derangement of the light, a
failure of intelligence. In this sense a “good will” means coördination of
desires by the ultimate desire, end, ideal; it means health and wholeness of
will; it means, literally, integrity. In the old sense “good will” meant, too
often, mere fear either of the prohibitions of present law or of the
prohibitions stored up in conscience. Such conscience, we all know, is a
purely negative and static thing, a convenient substitute for policemen, a
degenerate descendant of that conscientia, or knowing-together, which
meant to the Romans a discriminating awareness in action,—discriminating
awareness of the whole that lurks round the corner of every part. This is one
instance of a sort of pathology of words,—words coming to function in a
sense alien to their normal intent. Right and wrong, for example, once
carried no ethical connotation, but merely denoted a direct or tortuous route
to a goal; and significantly the Hebrew word for sin meant, in the days of its
health, an arrow that had missed its mark.
But, it is urged, there is no such thing as intelligence in the sense of a
control of passion by reason, desire by thought. Granted; it is so much
easier to admit objections than to refute them! Let intelligence be
interpreted as you will, so be it you recognize in it a delayed response, a](https://image.slidesharecdn.com/2031465-250526064455-d5f2378a/85/Agrotechnology-A-Philosophical-Introduction-R-Paul-Thompson-78-320.jpg)
Agrotechnology A Philosophical Introduction R Paul Thompson
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- 6. This page intentionally left blank
- 7. Agro-Technology Humans have been modifying plants and animals for millennia. The dawn of molecular genetics, however, has kindled intense public scrutiny and controversy. Crops, and the food products which include them, have dominated molecular modification in agriculture. Organisations have made unsubstantiated claims and scaremongering is common. In this textbook R. Paul Thompson presents a clear account of the significant issues – identifying harms and benefits, analysing and managing risk – which lie beneath the cacophony of public controversy. His comprehensive analysis looks especially at genetically modified organisms, and includes an explanation of the scientific background, an analysis of ideological objections, a discussion of legal and ethical concerns, a suggested alternative – organic agriculture – and an examination of the controversy’s impact on sub-Saharan African countries. His book will be of interest to students and other readers in philosophy, biology, biotechnology and public policy. r. paul thompson is Professor at the Institute for the History and Philosophy of Science and Technology, and the Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology, at the University of Toronto.
- 8. Other titles in the Cambridge Introductions to Philosophy and Biology series: Derek Turner, Paleontology 9780521116374 R. Paul Thompson, Agro-Technology 9780521117975
- 9. Agro-Technology A Philosophical Introduction R. PAUL THOMPSON Institute for the History and Philosophy of Science and Technology, and the Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology, University of Toronto
- 10. cambridge university press Cambridge, New York, Melbourne, Madrid, Cape Town, Singapore, São Paulo, Delhi, Tokyo, Mexico City Cambridge University Press The Edinburgh Building, Cambridge CB2 8RU, UK Published in the United States of America by Cambridge University Press, New York www.cambridge.org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9780521117975 c R. Paul Thompson 2011 This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published 2011 Printed in the United Kingdom at the University Press, Cambridge A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloguing in Publication data Thompson, R. Paul, 1947– Agro-technology : a philosophical introduction / R. Paul Thompson. p. cm. – (Cambridge introductions to philosophy and biology) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-0-521-11797-5 (hardback) 1. Agricultural biotechnology – Philosophy. 2. Genetic engineering – Philosophy. 3. Agricultural biotechnology – Moral and ethical aspects. 4. Genetic engineering – Moral and ethical aspects. 5. Agricultural biotechnology – Social aspects. 6. Genetic engineering – Social aspects. I. Title. S494.5.B563T46 2011 630 – dc23 2011017974 ISBN 978-0-521-11797-5 Hardback ISBN 978-0-521-13375-3 Paperback Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication, and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.
- 11. For Olivia May the wind be always at your back.
- 13. Contents List of figures page ix List of tables x Preface xi Introduction xiv 1 Scientific background 1 1.1 Population genetics 1 1.2 Quantitative genetics 10 1.3 Hybridisation 12 1.4 Molecular genetics 17 2 Application of genetics to agriculture 22 2.1 Genetic modification of plants and animals: techniques 22 2.2 Agricultural biotechnology: current products and future prospects 27 3 Philosophical and conceptual background 33 3.1 A primer of logic, reasoning and evidence 35 3.2 Relevant ethical theories 51 3.3 Harm and risk analysis 78 3.4 The precautionary principle 92 4 The controversy: ideological and theological objections 101 4.1 Advocacy and NGOs 101 4.2 Interfering with life 109 4.3 Patenting life 121 5 The controversy: purported benefits 137 5.1 Environmental benefits 137 5.2 Yield and food security benefits 141 5.3 Health benefits 146 vii
- 14. viii Contents 6 The controversy: purported harms 152 6.1 Economic and corporate harms 153 6.2 Environmental harms 157 6.3 Health harms 174 7 The organic alternative 178 7.1 The environment: conventional, organic and GM agriculture 181 7.2 Health: evidential lacunae 185 7.3 The problem of yields 192 7.4 GM and organic: the false dichotomy 194 8 Impact on low- and middle-income countries: poverty, farming and colonial legacies 199 Concluding remarks 214 Bibliography 216 Index 228
- 15. List of figures Figure 1.1 Average US corn yields and kinds of corn (from Troyer, 2006 based on data from USDA/NASS: see USDA/NASS, 2009). Reproduced with permission of Crop Science. page 16 Figure 2.1 Bacteria are prokaryotes; they do not have a nucleus but do have a nucleoid composed of DNA that functions in the same way as that in the nucleus of eukaryotes. 25 Figure 2.2 Regions of the Ti plasmid of Agrobacterium tumefaciens. 26 Figure 5.1 Performance of cspB corn in USA across years (fifth season of yield improvements under drought stress) (courtesy of Monsanto). 141 Figure 5.2 Nitrogen trials (courtesy of Monsanto). 142 Figure 5.3 Yield to nitrogen-input data (courtesy of Monsanto). 142 Figure 6.1 Examples of refuge-planting patterns. 167 ix
- 16. List of tables Table 1.1 Codon dictionary page 20 Table 3.1 Traffic fatalities and injuries by region (created by R. Paul Thompson from public domain data of the World Health Organization) 61 x
- 17. Preface I have a long-standing personal interest in food: its history, its biology and chemistry, its production and its preparation. Hence, cooking provides a cre- ative outlet, one in which my academic curiosity about the history, biology and chemistry of food can be combined with creating new methods of preparation, new ingredients and combinations of ingredients, and new combinations of flavours. Pursuing this interest has led me to delve into the history of food, especially the last 10–15, 000 years of the domestication of plants and animals and the introduction of novel foods in diverse regions of the globe, includ- ing wild sources of ingredients (see Elias and Dykeman, 1990; Gardon, 1998; Henderson, 2000; Thayer, 2006). It also has led me to study food chemistry and the cell and molecular properties of food, the transformation of food during preparation (such as the Maillard reaction when food is heated), the physiology and neuroscience of taste, and modern agricultural practices, food processing and food distribution. This book focuses mostly on the latter, specifically on biotechnology in agriculture and the controversy surrounding it. I bring to the material in this book a special, though far from unique, com- bination of perspectives and knowledge. My academic interests breach the normal divide between science and the humanities. On the one side, I have a background in philosophy, hold an appointment in the Institute for the His- tory and Philosophy of Science and Technology, and teach courses on the phil- osophy of biology and the philosophy of medicine. On the other, I also have a background in biology, hold an appointment in the Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology, and currently teach a biology course on molecu- lar genetics and biotechnology. Over the last 30 years, I have taught biology courses on population genetics, evolution and epidemiology, and a diverse array of philosophy courses, including ethics, social issues, the philosophy of science, the philosophy of medicine and mathematical (symbolic) logic. I hope in the course of this book I can help others bridge what is often a deep chasm. xi
- 18. xii Preface This is not an advocacy book but no one writes about issues as contentious as agricultural biotechnology without numerous influences, and preformed ideas and positions (hopefully positions based on the best available evidence and sound reasoning). Intellectual openness does not require coming to an issue with a blank slate or pretending to be positionless, but it does require that positions be open to change in the light of revised or new evidence, or exposed deficiencies in reasoning. To do otherwise is dogmatic and irrational. A simple statement of thanks at the end of a preface dramatically under- estimates the contribution made by so many to the ideas and analyses in this book. Some are long deceased philosophers reaching back to Plato and Aris- totle. Others are contemporary researchers and scholars, from biologists to political scientists and economists to philosophers. Yet others are friends and colleagues. My long-standing and very close friends Michael Ruse and Paul Gooch opened up the rich and deeply important world of philosophical ideas and analysis. Hugh Grant, Jerry Steiner, Rob Horsh, Kate Fish and Dianne Hern- don revealed the complexities of the world of biotech business. Rob Paarlberg, a friend and intellectual colleague, has written an important and insightful book (Paarlberg, 2008), from which I gleaned much about the political dynam- ics of biotechnology and Africa. My richest insights into agriculture in rural East Africa are due to Ruth Oniang’o (Honourable Professor Ruth Oniang’o). Ruth is a remarkable woman. For many years she was a professor of nutrition at Jomo Kenyatta University in Nairobi. She founded the African Journal of Food, Agriculture, Nutrition and Development and a local non-governmental organisa- tion (NGO), the Rural Outreach Programme. She served as a member of the Kenyan parliament for one term. Working with her NGO and visiting rural areas of western Kenya have profoundly shaped my views on agriculture in Africa. The HIV/AIDs and poverty relief work of my niece, Jessica Bokhout, in South Africa and Zambia are inspiring. She read and discussed with me many of the chapters of this book. Her insights on the inner workings of NGOs are rich and nuanced. Her views on the potential harms of patents on those in low- and middle-income countries, on the attraction of organic farming and, especially, on the content in the chapter on Africa offered a helpful and needed alternative perspective. I have learned a great deal from David Castle’s writings on social issues in genomics and biotechnology and from stimulating conversations over the last few years. As is always the case, this book would not have appeared without the fine work of Hilary Gaskin, Joanna Garbutt,
- 19. Preface xiii Anna Lowe and Christina Sarigiannidou at Cambridge University Press, and thanks to Joe Garver for meticulous copy-editing. I owe an enormous debt of gratitude to my wife, Jennifer McShane, whom I met in high school and to whom I will have been happily married for 40 years in 2011. She has constantly supported my endeavours, endured my philosophical analysis of nearly every idea and action arising in our lives, and proofread all that I have written over the last 40 years. Although my three adult children, Eirinn, Kerry and Jonathan, and my dad, Lewis, and his wife, Pat, have not made a direct contribution to this book, their love, support and individual achievements are part of the foundation on which my own sense of self is built.
- 20. Introduction Food and water are essential to human life; more specifically, safe water in sufficient quantities, and safe and nutritionally balanced food in sufficient quantities are essential to good health. Until the twentieth century in devel- oped countries (rich countries), neither could be taken for granted; for most of the world’s people today, neither can be taken for granted. People in rich countries, however, have for most of the last century had access to abundant, affordable and safe food and water. This is, incontestably, a direct function of advances in science and technology. Moreover, meeting the challenges of tomorrow will depend on continued advances. Jeffery D. Sachs eloquently makes this point in his book The End of Poverty: I believe that the single most important reason why prosperity spread, and why it continues to spread, is the transmission of technologies and the ideas underlying them. Even more important than having specific resources in the ground, such as coal, was the ability to use modern science-based ideas to organize production. The beauty of ideas is that they can be used over and over again, without ever being depleted. Economists call ideas nonrival in the sense that one person’s use of an idea does not diminish the ability of others to use it as well. This is why we can envision a world in which everyone achieves prosperity. The essence of the first industrial revolution was not the coal; it was how to use the coal. Even more generally, it was about how to use a new form of energy. The lessons of coal eventually became the basis for many other energy systems as well, from hydropower, oil and gas, and nuclear power to new forms of renewable energy such as wind and solar power converted to electricity. (Sachs, 2005, pp. 41–42) This, although completely accurate, is the rosy side. The benefits of science and technology have not been achieved without attendant problems. It is worth noting that many, but by no means all, of these problems have resulted from human inattention, greed and optimism and are not the result of advances in xiv
- 21. Introduction xv science and technology per se. Furthermore, even factoring in the problems, few people, on balance, would wish to relinquish the benefits that arise from science and technology; very few would trade the challenges of today for those of 500 years ago. Our almost universal embrace of the benefits of science and technology in medicine and dentistry – including those arising from medical biotechnology during the last several decades – provides powerful support for this view. Nonetheless, one obvious lesson from the history of science and technology is that anything less than intense and continual vigilance is irrational and imprudent. Seizing benefits and identifying and mitigating harms are inextricably connected endeavours. To believe that benefits can be seized while identifying and mitigating harms ignored is sheer folly. Science and technology have been at the core of the success of rich countries in thwarting the prediction of Thomas Malthus (1798). Malthus claimed that human populations will, unchecked, increase geometrically while resources (food, shelter and the like) will only grow arithmetically. At some point, the population will outstrip the available resources and an intense competition for resources will ensue, leaving many with inadequate resources and, hence, des- perate. For most of the twentieth century, agricultural technology advanced by employing millennia-old breeding knowledge and coupling it with contemporary population, quantitative and molecular genetics. For millen- nia, animal and plant agriculture relied on selecting organisms with desir- able traits as a breeding stock. As new advantageous traits were identified or emerged, organisms with those traits became the new breeding stock. As scien- tific knowledge advanced, especially in genetics, the understanding of traits, hybridisation and selection became more sophisticated. In the latter part of the twentieth century, based on advances in cell and molecular biology, biotech- nological manipulation of the genomes of organisms became possible. Gov- ernments, agencies and regulators in most rich countries approved numerous medical, environmental and agricultural applications. Of these applications, agriculture – specifically plant agriculture – became the target of intense criticism. The debate over agricultural biotechnology continues to rage and that debate is the focus of this book. Although slightly dated, the collection of articles in Genetically Modified Foods: Debating Biotechnology edited by Michael Ruse and David Castle (2002) provides an excellent glimpse into the differing opinions. Engaging in the debate, obviously, involves examining scientific evidence and considerable space in this book is devoted to scientific evidence. But the
- 22. xvi Introduction things that have emerged as central in the debate are more philosophical in character. Issues, for example, about the sanctity of life and the immorality of manipulating it, the balancing of benefits and harms, the avoidance of certain kinds of harms, the ownership of new life forms, the value of biodiversity, the value of safe, affordable food and so on. Consider the claim made by Great Britain’s Prince Charles in his Reith Lecture (HRH The Prince of Wales, 2000), ‘I believe that if we are to achieve genuine sustainable development, we will have to rediscover, or re-acknowledge, a sense of the sacred in our dealings with the natural world, and with each other.’ Lofty and eloquent as this sounds, drawing out its meaning is challenging. What does ‘genuine sustainable development’ mean? Can there be ungen- uine sustainable development? What is the measure of ‘sustainable’ and sus- tainable for whom or what? There are those who consider the continued loss of species as evidence of a failure to have sustainability. There are others for whom the essence of sustainable development resides in the continuation of humanity. For them, sustainable development is important – perhaps morally required – because continued human existence is under threat from a con- tinuation of the practices of the last couple of centuries; this is a very anthro- pocentric motivation. There are, of course, other positions on the meaning and measure of ‘sustainable’ but all are philosophical in character. Further- more, what might Prince Charles have meant by ‘sacred’? Perhaps he had in mind a theological sense of the requirements of stewardship that God has given humans, and of humility that respects rather than usurps God’s natu- ral order. Or perhaps this is a thoroughly secular sense of sacred, something like recognition of the beauty and wonder of the natural world, and of the delicate balance that we can so easily disrupt. More importantly, what follows from accepting ‘a sense of the sacred in our dealing with the natural world’? Surely, this is not a recommendation that we return to a way of life led by our early ancestors; caves for shelter, for example. The phrase is entirely unhelp- ful unless it can be given some substance. Is atomic electricity generation a violation of this ‘sense of the sacred’? Is air travel a violation? Is using birth control pills a violation? Is producing recombinant insulin from bacteria a violation? In short, how will we know when we are adhering to and when violating this ‘sense of the sacred’? Platitudes such as those invoked by Prince Charles are useful rhetorical devices but they do not advance rational decision- making; indeed, they frequently, as in this case, frustrate rational decision- making and lead to imprudent courses of action. This is why philosophical
- 23. Introduction xvii analysis is an essential component in any examination and analysis of socially, morally, legally and politically important issues arising from scientific advances. To further emphasise this essential role, consider yet another example. Vandana Shiva (1997) claims: When organisms are treated as if they are machines, an ethical shift takes place – life is seen as having instrumental rather than intrinsic value. The manipulation of animals for industrial ends has already had major ethical, economic, and health implications. The reductionist, machine view of animals removes all ethical concern for how animals are treated to maximize production. There is a lot packed into these three sentences. There are valuable insights and murky implications. Her main concern in this passage and in the section in which it occurs is animals – specifically agricultural animals. Beginning, however, with the phrase ‘when organisms’ invites one to generalise beyond agricultural animals, indeed beyond animals to bacteria, yeasts, plants and the like. In effect, she is generalising from a convincing case for agricultural animals to all organisms; her reference to ‘organisms’ entices the reader into accepting that her narrow claims apply to all organisms. I fully agree that most agricultural animals are treated appallingly and that ethical concerns are muted by a factory farm structure designed to enhance profits. Whether this is the result of a mechanistic and reductionist view is less clear but it is at least a tenable hypothesis. What does not follow is that ethical concern for ‘animals’ beyond agricultural animals is also removed. Cruelty to animals does occur but there is widespread public support – in rich countries at least – that such cruelty is unacceptable. Societies for the prevention of cruelty to animals abound, and research animals have for the last 25 years been protected by laws and review processes, precisely because there is little public tolerance for cruelty to animals. Without care, one can easily be seduced into accepting a view about all animals based on a narrow case for agricultural animals. Moreover, the case may seem to have been made for all ‘organisms’; it has not. The importance of this latter point is that the emotive invoking of animals as machines and viewed through a reductionist lens, simply does not apply in any natural way to plants – agricultural, horticultural or other kinds – or bacteria, but they do seem to be gathered up in ‘organisms’ in this passage. There is a subtle analogy at work here, comparing attitudes towards, and treatment of, agricultural animals with attitudes towards, and treatment of,
- 24. xviii Introduction all organisms. In Section 3.1 below, the value of analogy is explored, as is its abuse; Shiva’s is clearly an abuse. Furthermore, there is a significant difference between methodological reductionism (which abounds in all sciences and in medicine) and mecha- nistic reductionism. The latter involves accepting that the nature of things is such that whole entities (materials, organisms and so on) can be reduced to their parts in a way that the whole is no greater than the sum of its parts. It is not an assumption to guide research or investigation but a commitment to the ways nature is structured. I do not believe my dog is a mere machine (mecha- nistic reductionism) but if he is ailing, I assume, as a method of investigating the cause, that some part of him is not functioning properly (methodological reductionism). Shiva, as I conceded, may be correct that mechanistic reduc- tionism is at work in the way we think about and treat agricultural animals but a biotechnologist does not have to accept this kind of reductionism (method- ological reductionism is enough) to engage in genetic engineering and even if she did, it is not at all clear what the ethical implications of treating plants or bacteria this way are. By blending the two kinds of reductionism, she can slide from one to the other uncritically. Finally on this example, there is the matter of ‘instrumental rather than intrinsic value’. This is set up as a dichotomy; it is one or the other. Actually, as the discussion of Kantian ethics in Section 3.2 makes clear, it is usually both that are at work for humans as well as other animals. It is not ethically problematic to treat someone as a means (an instrument) if she is also being treated as an end (something with intrinsic value); labourers have this duality attached to them all the time. Also, the owner of a horse may well use the horse for instrumental ends – racing for prize money, for example – but also recognise that the horse has intrinsic value and needs to be properly cared for and tended: indeed, in many cases, owners confess they love their horse. Again, Shiva may be correct that pigs, poultry, cattle and such are seldom viewed by farmers as having intrinsic value but the generalisation to other contexts is again specious, as is the implication that valuing an animal instrumentally is incompatible with also valuing it intrinsically. And, how any of this applies to plants and bacteria is unclear. Consider a final example, one that focuses on a reliable supply of food. Of late, a plethora of food movements has grown up in rich nations – nations where food is, with minor exceptions, plentiful, safe, affordable and read- ily accessible. The slow food movement (using fresh ingredients with dishes
- 25. Introduction xix prepared just before serving, by contrast with fast food – e.g. McDonald’s – factory prepared and prepackaged food) and the locavore movement (using ingredients grown or raised locally – e.g. the 100-mile diet) are examples. Although there are clear aesthetic, health and environmental benefits to eat- ing locally grown food, favouring free-range animal farming, enjoying on-site preparation using fresh ingredients, and minimising prepackaged and pre- processed foods, there are also demonstrable harms, as will become appar- ent from the examinations undertaken in this book, especially in Chapter 7 on the organic food movement. Staying with the locavore movement, one potential harm is an inability to respond to local crop failures. A reliable, adequate supply of food requires widely distributed sources. Without this, a local population (a 100-mile-diet population, for example) risks famine from inclement weather, plant or animal disease, elevated pest populations and the like. Famine from crop failure, disease outbreaks and so on occur frequently around the world. The solution, especially in rich nations, is to import excess production from elsewhere. In a world where every community relies heavily or exclusively on local production – ‘local’ often extends beyond 100 miles but then so do most crop failures due to weather or pest invasions – there will be no incentive to produce food beyond local demand; modest unplanned excesses will occur from time to time but not in the quantities needed to relieve a significant famine elsewhere, and certainly such excesses cannot be relied on. So a world of local production and consumption is a precarious world, one that actually looks a lot like agriculture in low- and middle-income nations in Africa today and agriculture in Europe 300 years ago. The pattern of famine, starvation and poverty that is characteristic of African nations should make people in rich nations nervous about abandoning a global agricultural model. A healthy global agricultural marketplace is consistent with, indeed may benefit from, some level of local consumption, but eating locally cannot be the global norm without courting disaster. Obviously, finding the right balance between local and global, price and quality, small scale and large scale is a prudent and rational approach, and is critical to successful policy and action. Finding the right balance contrasts with championing one end of a spectrum; many advocates of the 100-mile diet champion one end of the food source spectrum, thereby risking the harm outlined above. One component of the analysis undertaken in this book is the identification of end-of-spectrum views, the uncovering of their benefits and flaws, and seeking the rational balance that maximises human well-being,
- 26. xx Introduction reliable food supply, environmental protection and sustainable agricultural practices – sustainable economically and environmentally. These three examples draw out different facets of the same point. Philo- sophical analysis is an essential element of any examination of the ethical, social, legal and political aspects of issues arising from scientific advances. Failure to engage in the analysis is an abdication of reason and a ceding of the debate to mere persuasion, with confusion, an untameable cacophony of voices, and ill-considered policies, laws and attitudes. It would be disingenu- ous, and entirely irresponsible, not to concede, at this point, that philosophical analysis is not a panacea for these ills. The point is not that with philosophical analysis everything is rational and right but rather that without it the situ- ation is many times worse. Philosophical analysis is one element in gaining traction on complex social issues, not the golden path to Utopia. In the preface, I indicated that this is not an advocacy book but I obviously have positions and commitments that it would be disingenuous to deny or try to conceal. In the chapters that follow, I examine many conflicting claims, positions and arguments and the evidence given to support them. My current conclusions are favourable to agricultural biotechnology; I support agricul- ture shifting towards more genetic modification and it is, therefore, not sur- prising that the conclusions of the various examinations in the book are tilted in that direction. I also conclude that organic agriculture has a meaningful role to play. By contrast, I am quite negative on the continuation of non-GM (non-genetically modified), conventional agriculture. This is largely because of its unsustainable negative environmental impact – an impact I outline in Section 5.1. So, while this is not an advocacy book, it is also not a dispassionate, disinterested examination. I contend, however, that it is an evidence-based and reasoned examination; with issues of this importance, complexity and controversial nature, that is the most honest, helpful and rational approach possible. To make sense of many of the touted benefits and harms of biotechnology in agriculture, a modest knowledge of the genetics underlying the technolo- gies is helpful. For example, understanding some of the requisite conditions for, and mechanisms of, horizontal gene transfer enhances a rational assess- ment of the probability of such a transfer in the case of GM crops as well as the extent of harm from such a transfer – both, as made clear in Chapter 8, are essential elements of a robust risk analysis. Hence, in Chapters 1 and 2, I sketch, in as non-technical a way as possible, the core scientific underpinnings
- 27. Introduction xxi of biotechnology, and the techniques and applications found in agricultural biotechnology. In some cases, the exposition of some specific aspects of science and technology is associated with the topic for which it is most relevant. Two considerations motivate this strategy. First, Chapters 1 and 2 are designed to provide some background science and technology that is relevant to more than one topic or chapter. In addition, the intention is for those chapters to expound broad features of the science and technology rather than more specialised domains. Second, juxtaposing specific aspects of science and technology and the issue to which they are relevant permits a dynamic interaction between them. For example, the discussion of the purported harm of horizontal gene transfer benefits considerably from associating the scientific evidence with the various points raised. The principal focus of this book is on the controversy over biotechnology in agriculture. That controversy, at this point, centres almost exclusively on plant agriculture, where most of the molecular modifications have occurred and have been commercialised. Consequently this book focuses mostly on GM plant agriculture. The controversy encompasses scientific, economic, politi- cal, regulatory, legal, ideological and theological dimensions. These are dealt with in Chapters 4, 5 and 6. A rigorous and robust examination of the various aspects of the controversy relies on analytical tools and methods. Chapter 3 describes the core tools and methods. At the heart of any analysis are reason- ing and evidence; hence, I start Chapter 3 with an exposition of these. Many of the claims and arguments proffered in the controversy over agricultural biotechnology rest on ethical commitments. This is a complicated landscape. Different individuals and groups adhere to different ethical theories, and this, without care and attention to detail, will mean that they will fail to engage each other; they will be talking past each other. To use a word that has become common to describe such differences in theoretical commitments, their views will be incommensurable (there exists no common measure, no com- mon assumptions). In Section 3.2, I set out the most commonly held ethical theories and note the differences among them but signal that in the context of biotechnology, there is a common measure: risk assessment. In subsequent chapters, I develop this claim of a common measure, especially in Sections 3.4 and 4.2. Being aware of these different theories is essential to understanding many of the claims made and why those making them think they matter. It is also essential to understanding why gaining traction on an issue is so illusive.
- 28. xxii Introduction Ultimately, I maintain, many of the issues arising from agricultural biotech- nology can be examined in a way that mitigates the difficulties posed by dif- ferent members and groups in a society adhering to different ethical theories. One element of this mitigation is risk analysis. Regardless of which ethical theory one adopts, many ethical, social, political and legal aspects of agri- cultural biotechnology require the identification of benefits and harms, an assessment of the balance of harms to benefits, and, if on balance the benefits outweigh the harms, a managing of the harms. For some ethical theories, risk assessment is fundamental; for others, fundamental ethical principles place constraints on risk analysis but do not render it ineffective or unnecessary. In Section 3.3, the various features of risk analysis are set out, including the essential role of values and goals. One principle that some individuals and groups have elevated to a funda- mental one is the precautionary principle. In its strongest version, it renders risk analysis entirely inappropriate. Few accept that strong version and, hence, few completely dismiss the relevance of risk analysis. Since the precautionary principle has been prominent in segments of the controversy over agricultural biotechnology, and because its interpretation and application interact with risk analysis, I examine it in Section 3.4. Many who reject molecular biotechnology in agriculture look to organic agriculture as the alternative. In Chapter 7, I look in some detail at this alter- native and the claims made about it. The thrust of the chapter is that organic is best contrasted with conventional agriculture and that the contrast with GM agriculture is unhelpful and contrived. If we are to escape the environmental ravages of conventional agriculture, GM and organic agriculture will have to be embraced. To put the view I support in its strongest terms, the antipathy towards GM agriculture expressed by those who support organic agriculture is irrational; conventional agriculture should be the target of their antipathy. The low- and middle-income countries, in various ways at different times, have suffered at the hands of developed (rich) nations. The impact of rich countries’ squabbling over GM agriculture is but another instance. Some low- and middle-income countries are slowly breaking the continuing colonial hold of rich nations, a hold that no longer depends on military subjugation but on economic control through vehicles such as trade. Sadly, that hold is also maintained by the views and actions of NGOs on whom poor nations and their impoverished citizens depend for assistance. This is sad because most of us financially support those NGOs, volunteer our time, or accept employment
- 29. Introduction xxiii with them because bettering the lives of the poor matters to us. The low- and middle-income countries about which I know the most and on which the impact of rich nations’ squabbles have had the greatest negative impact are in Africa. It is a vast continent and its nations differ substantially in their resources, needs and abilities. Despite billions of dollars in aid and the activity of countless NGOs, the data on poverty and health are appalling and progress is illusive. In Chapter 8, I examine the promise of agricultural biotechnology for African nations and indicate the negative impact the debate over it in rich countries has had on poor Africans. I also highlight, again, in this context the hypocrisy of rich countries around biotechnology in agriculture, medicine and environmental amelioration.
- 31. 1 Scientific background 1.1 Population genetics Although the current debate about agricultural biotechnology is often nar- rowly focused on molecular biotechnology (molecular genetic modification), the technological application of biology in agriculture predates the advent of molecular biology. For more than 10,000 years humans have been manipulat- ing the traits of animals and plants (Mazoyer and Roundart, 2006; Thompson, 2009) by manipulating their genes and, thereby their genomes (the specific combination of genes in an organism’s cells); the dog was likely the earliest animal to be domesticated (about 16,000 years ago). Early domestication of agricultural animals and plants was based entirely on crude experimentation (trial and error). Biological knowledge was elementary; humans learned early that offspring resemble parents, that selecting animals and plants with desir- able traits and breeding them created a population of animals with those traits, and that occasionally a new trait seemed to appear. Although elemen- tary, and based entirely on experience, this knowledge was sufficient to allow the domestication of numerous plants and animals. A biological understand- ing of the observed phenomena did not exist until the middle of the nineteenth century; that is, until the development of a theory of genetics. The area of genetics developed first was population genetics. Beginning in the early part of the twentieth century, it, along with quantitative genetics,1 which will 1 Even though I deal with population genetics and quantitative genetics in separate sections, they are closely related. Both focus on trait variation in phenotypes and both trace their origins to J. B. S. Haldane, Ronald A. Fisher and Sewall Wright. They differ mostly in the kinds of traits on which they focus. Population genetics, for the most part, concentrates on single locus traits; quantitative genetics concentrates on traits involving multiple loci and multiple environmental factors. To some extent, population genetics could be subsumed under quantitative genetics as a limiting case. 1
- 32. 2 Scientific background be discussed in the next section, made possible important and far-reaching modifications of plants and animals. Population genetics and quantitative genetics are important in their own right in agriculture since the technological application of biological knowl- edge in these domains continues to be used extensively in plant and animal agriculture. Selecting agriculturally useful traits of plants and animals and developing populations with those traits through breeding involves, princi- pally, the application of population and quantitative genetic theory. Further- more, many agriculturally desirable plants are hybrids (created by interfertilis- ing plants with different genetic profiles). Understanding the population and quantitative genetic basis of modern agricultural hybridisation is essential to advances in hybridisation. Both conventional trait selection and hybridisation continue to occupy a significant market share. Indeed, in plant agriculture, where the proportion of genetically modified (GM) seeds planted has seen a steady increase, it is still the case that hybrid and conventional seeds are supplied and planted in abundance; data collected and analysed by Precision Agricultural Services, Inc. and reported by Monsanto (2010) indicated that in 2010 for corn seed alone there were more than 6,000 traited hybrids and over 1,000 conventional seeds offered for planting. Of special importance to organic farmers, population genetics and quantitative genetics are also essen- tial to understanding the characteristics of ‘open pollinated’ plants, which make collecting and retaining seed from year to year feasible. Hence, even with the advent of molecular genetic modification, population genetics and quantitative genetics continue to be important. Moreover, they are important to aspects of GM seed production and GM agricultural practices. For example, a technique for inhibiting the development of insect resistance to a pesticide expressed by some GM plants relies heavily on population dynamics (the com- bining of population genetics and ecology), a technique which I describe in more detail in Chapter 6. The development of contemporary population genetics began with a bril- liant and seminal, but at the time largely unnoticed, contribution by Gregor Mendel in 1865. Mendel was interested in hybridisation in plants (interfertilis- ing two varieties of a plant) and set out to discover what happens in subsequent generations of intrabred hybrids. His explicit goal was to discover generally applicable laws. Although knowledge of hybridisation predates Mendel, it was not until his work that the underlying mechanisms were discovered. In the earliest period of agriculture (the Neolithic period approximately 10,000 years
- 33. Population genetics 3 before the present), the goal was to avoid hybridisation (Mazoyer and Roundart, 2006). Today, some of the most beneficial traits, including yield improvement, result from controlled hybridisation based on robust biologi- cal knowledge. Mendel’s work attracted little attention until the beginning of the twen- tieth century. In what is now seen as an ironic twist of fate, Darwin’s the- ory of evolution, as set out in 1859 in On the Origin of Species, assumed the hereditary transmission of traits but he had no credible theory of hered- ity; he relied instead on the wide acceptance of observed trait inheritance. Had Darwin, or any of his colleagues for that matter, known about Mendel’s theory, he could by the fourth edition (1866) have included it and further strengthened his case. Early work on Mendel’s theoretical model concen- trated on its implications and on extending the scope of the model. Mendel provided a mathematical model that described a causal mechanism which accounted for the phenomena he observed. Advances in the optics of micro- scopes and in staining techniques made possible, during the period 1840– 1900, increasingly clearer observations of the behaviour of what today we call chromosomes. In 1902, Walter Sutton, a postgraduate student at Columbia University, in a single offhand sentence, connected the observed behaviour of chromosomes with Mendel’s mathematical account of his hereditary factors. I may finally call attention to the probability that the association of paternal and maternal chromosomes in pairs and their subsequent separation during the reducing division as indicated above may constitute the physical basis of the Mendelian law of heredity. To this subject I hope soon to return in another place. (Sutton, 1902, p. 39) Subsequently, in 1903, he provided a more detailed account (Sutton, 1903; see also Crow and Crow, 2002). Although this was a controversial hypothesis in 1902, by 1910, the hypothesis had received considerable experimental and theoretical support. The next major contribution to population genetics was made indepen- dently by G. H. Hardy (Hardy, 1908) and Wilhelm Weinberg (Weinberg, 1908). Both provided a formulation of an equilibrium state for a Mendelian pop- ulation (i.e. a population that conforms to Mendel’s model). In essence, the formulation states that the ratio of Mendel’s factors (today called alleles) will
- 34. 4 Scientific background remain constant in all subsequent generations after the first unless some- thing like selection, mutation, immigration, emigration and the like occurs; so unless something happens, the allelic ratios will remain constant forever. Of course, in actual populations, the ratios do change from generation to generation, entailing that one or more of selection, mutation, immigration, emigration and the like are occurring. Subsequently, this equilibrium princi- ple was incorporated into contemporary population genetics, which coalesced in the 1920s with the work of J. B. S. Haldane (Haldane, 1924–32, 1932), Ronald A. Fisher (Fisher, 1930) and Sewall Wright (Wright, 1931). The nuclei of cells contain chromosomes (cells with a nucleus are called eukaryotic; those without, prokaryotic). Chromosomes exist in matched pairs when a cell is not undergoing division, a phase known as the resting phase. Cells engage in two kinds of division: mitosis and meiosis. Mitosis results in two cells each identical to the parent cell; each has a complete set of the original matched pairs of chromosomes. Meiosis results in four cells, the nuclei of which have only one set of the original matched pair of chromosomes. These cells are called gametes; human sperm and ova are gametes. During the process of fertilisation gametes from males and females combine to create a new single cell, the nucleus of which has a complete set of matched pairs of chromosomes; normally this cell undergoes mitotic division numerous times, resulting in a mass of identical cells. At this point, these cells are stem cells; stem cells are generic cells and have the property of being able to transform into any of the specific cells of the adult organism (e.g. heart, liver and skin cells). Once transformed, further mitotic division produces only the specific type of cell it has become. This is why stem cells are so valuable for current medical research and why embryos in the early stages of development are an important source. Particular locations on chromosomes give rise to different traits (charac- teristics) of the adult organism (its phenotype). The processes through which those traits arise during embryological development are complex and still not completely understood but it is now clear that the basic genetic code for the organism is embodied in that organism’s chromosomes. What is unclear is how that code gives rise to the adult organism. Much is known but the process is complex, involving some genes controlling the expression of oth- ers, environmental conditions, sequencing and many other aspects; there is still much to be discovered. A point of terminology – I hereafter will use the
- 35. Population genetics 5 term ‘development’ to cover the process through which an adult organism arises. Hence, it covers the period from fertilisation up to the adult plant or animal.2 Some characteristics (aspects, traits) arise from the genetic code found at one location on one chromosome (sickle-cell anaemia, for example); most, however, involve many locations on many chromosomes and are influenced by many factors during development. The more closely a trait can be tied to one, or a very few, positions on a chromosome, the more straightforward and efficacious is the genetic manipulation required to alter, remove or introduce that trait. Let’s look a little more closely at Mendel’s postulation of hereditary ‘factors’, which in contemporary population genetics are called alleles. Two alleles are associated at each location (locus) on a matched pair of chromosomes; a matched pair of alleles is a gene. The number of possible combinations depends, of course, on the size of the set of alternate alleles. If only one kind of allele can occupy that location, then every organism will have the same pair of alleles (say, AA) and each member of the pair will be identical. If two alleles can occupy that locus, there will be three possible unique pairings (AB, AA, BB); AB and BA are not unique combinations and constitute identical genes. If three alleles can occupy the locus, there will be six unique combinations (AA, AB, AC, BB, BC, CC). As the number of possible alleles at a locus increases, the number of genes increases. As the number of possible genes at a locus increases, the number of traits by which the adult organisms can differ from each other increases. At any point in time, the proportion of a given allele in the population can be determined. In a simple case with two alleles A and B at a locus, A may be more numerous than B (for example, the ratio of A:B = 7:1). For mathematical convenience, the proportions are normalised to sum to 1. So the ratio 7:1 is normalised to 7/8:1/8 or 0.725:0.125. An example of an allelic pairing that yields that ratio is: 20 AA: 1 AB: 1 BB 2 There is, obviously, no precise point at which an organism is an adult. From an evolutionary point of view, ability to participate in the production of offspring marks adulthood. From a social point of view, as in the case of humans, it occurs somewhat later, ranging from 18 to 25 years of age.
- 36. 6 Scientific background The AA combination contributes 20 As; the AB combination contributes 1 A, for a total of 21 As. The AB also contributes 1 B, which along with the 2 Bs contributed by the BB combination results in 3 Bs. Hence there are 21 As and 3 Bs. Dividing both by 3 yields 7 As to 1 B (A:B = 7:1 = 0.725:0.125). What G. H. Hardy and Wilhelm Weinberg demonstrated was that in every generation after the first, the proportion of alleles at a locus, in a closed population, will be the same – an equilibrium will be reached. That equilibrium can be disturbed in open populations – populations open to selection, immigration into and emigration from the population, by meiotic drive (where gametes are not produced in equal quantities: e.g. more gametes with XX chromosomes (female) than XY chromosomes (male) are produced during meiosis) and so on. What the Hardy–Weinberg equilibrium states is that if nothing happens, nothing happens. This might seem trite (perhaps even ridiculous) but, in fact, it is a powerful principle. Since they proved that if nothing, except random mating, is occurring in the population, the allelic ratios will remain constant over time, if there is a change in the ratios, something must be happening to cause the change; there must be an explanation in terms of some factor(s) perturbing the system. The proof of the Hardy–Weinberg equilibrium is straightforward. Assume a locus with two alleles A and B; also assume, in the founding generation F0, p = the proportion of A alleles and q = the proportion of B alleles. Construct a breeding matrix (assuming random mating) as follows: p(A) q(B) p(A) p2 (AA) pq(AB) q(B) pq(AB) q2 (BB) AB is the same as BA, so there will be 2 × pq of this combination. Hence, the ratios after mating (i.e. in the next generation, F1–Fn designates the nth generation with F0 being the founding generation) are: p2 AA:2pqAB:q2 BB. So, summing the As and Bs yields, A = 2p2 + 2pq and B = 2q2 + 2p; hence, A:B = 2p2 + 2pq:2q2 + 2pq. Dividing both sides of the right-hand ratio (i.e. the p and q side) by 2 yields A:B = p2 + pq:q2 + pq. Factor each side of the ratio to yield p(p + q)A:q(q + p)B. Normalise this ratio, so that, p + q = 1 (hence, p = 1 − q and q = 1 − p), by replacing q on the left side with 1 − p and p on the right side with 1 − p, which results in the ratio p(p + (1 − p))A:q(q + (1 − q))B or,
- 37. Population genetics 7 removing the unnecessary parentheses, p(p + 1 − p)A:q(q + 1 − q)B. The ps in the parentheses on the left cancel, leaving p(1)A, and the qs in the parentheses on the right cancel, leaving q(1)B; since multiplying by 1 changes nothing, the F1 generation ratio is, p(A):q(B). This was the starting ratio in the F0; hence, the ratio after mating remains unchanged. The Hardy–Weinberg equilibrium plays a role in population genetics simi- lar to the role played by Newton’s first law in Newtonian mechanics. Newton’s first law states that all bodies remain in constant rectilinear (straight line) motion or at rest unless acted upon by an external, unbalanced force. That is, if nothing happens, nothing will happen; the state of the system will remain the same forever. Hence, if an object undergoes negative or positive accelera- tion, or takes any path other than a straight line, a force must be acting on it. If the allelic ratios in a population change, something must be acting in or on that population. In addition to postulating factors (alleles), Mendel, to explain fully his experimental results, had to postulate a property of his factors: factors could be dominant or recessive. Here’s how this property is put to work in the theory. As indicated, Mendel’s experiments were designed to explore hybridisation. Beginning with seeds that bred true for a trait (Mendel explored seven pairs of traits3 but the one most often used in explications of his work is wrinkled and round peas), Mendel cross-fertilised the true breeding plants (e.g. ones that always yielded round peas and ones that always yielded wrinkled peas) to produce hybrid plants – pollen from round peas was used to fertilise ovules from wrinkled peas and vice versa. What he found was that in the first gener- ation all the plants had the same trait (e.g. always produced round peas). When he crossed the offspring of this first generation, he found that some plants manifested one trait, and others the other trait (e.g. some produced round peas and others produced wrinkled peas); the ratio was 3:1 (e.g. 3 round to 1 wrinkled). 3 1. Round vs. wrinkled peas 2. Yellow vs. orange peas (seen through transparent seed coats) 3. Seed coats white vs. grey, grey-brown, leather brown 4. Smooth or wrinkled ripe seed pods 5. Green vs. yellow unripe seed pods 6. Axial or terminal flowers 7. Long vs. short stem (he chose 6–7 ft and 3 / 4–11 /2 ft).
- 38. 8 Scientific background To explain these results, he postulated that his factors (one responsible for round peas, another for wrinkled peas) segregated when gametes are produced – just as chromosomes were later discovered to segregate during meiosis. If all the factors are the same in all the breeding plants, all the gametes will have the same single factor (S – smooth – for example). When the two gametes are united, the zygote will have two identical factors for that trait (e.g. SS); these organisms are called homozygous or homozygotes. Those plants will breed true generation after generation. Hybrids, however, will have one factor from plants breeding true for a trait S and one from plants breeding true for a different trait W (wrinkled). The hybrid zygote will be SW; these organisms are called heterozygous or heterozygotes. When SS plants are crossed with WW plants, all the offspring will be SW. So why, in the first generation (designated F1, the original generation being F0), did all the plants manifest only one of the traits when they all had an allele for each trait? Because, postulated Mendel, S dominates over W, so when they are together in a combination the trait S will always dominate and be manifest in the plant. The next thing to be explained is why, when the hybrids of the F1 generation were interbred (creating generation F2), were both traits found, and found in the ratio 3:1. The explanation is mathematically simple. When two hybrids are bred, some zygotes will be homozygous for each of the factors and others heterozygous. Since all the plants in F1 are SW, each will produce, on average, 50 per cent S and 50 per cent W gametes. Using an elementary matrix product, the 3:1 ratio is obvious. Gametes of plant A S W Gametes of plant B S SS SW W WS WW The combinations (e.g. SS) are the product of combining the relevant gametes from plant A with relevant gametes from plant B.
- 39. Population genetics 9 The same thing can be illustrated diagrammatically. SS SW WS WW SW SW As the matrix and the diagram demonstrate, the possible re-pairing of gametes from two hybrids are SS, 2SW (SW + WS), and WW. Since S is dominant, the 2SW will manifest the S trait as will the SS because it is homozygous for S. Only WW will manifest the W trait. Hence three of the four combinations will manifest the S trait and one will manifest the W trait (i.e. S:W = 3:1). Although Mendel’s postulation of dominant and recessive factors (alleles) is conceptually important, it does not provide a complete basis for under- standing phenotypic traits. Frequently, heterozygotes do not manifest one of the discrete traits found in the contributing homozygotes. For example, a phenomenon called heterozygote superiority4 occurs when a phenotypic property of the heterozygote makes it fitter than either homozygote – as in the case of a person with an allele for sickle-cell haemoglobin and an allele for normal haemoglobin. The homozygote for normal haemoglobin is sus- ceptible to malaria and the homozygote for sickle-cell haemoglobin is sus- ceptible to sickle-cell anaemia; the heterozygote is resistant to malaria and does not develop sickle-cell anaemia. Fitness is always relative to an envi- ronment – the sickle-cell heterozygote is fitter in an environment where malaria is endemic, for example. In agriculture, the environment is, in large part, created by humans, and agricultural crops and animals are fit rela- tive to that environment (an environment determined by the needs and interests of farmers, food processors, shippers, consumers and so on). Many agricultural crops (e.g. wheat, rice, corn/maize) are the product of human manipulation of reproduction to create novel hybids because the traits of these hybrids are superior to those of either homozygote (more on this in Section 1.3). 4 Heterozygote inferiority also occurs (Christiansen, 1978).
- 40. 10 Scientific background 1.2 Quantitative genetics Another reason Mendel’s postulation of dominance and recessiveness does not fully account for observed phenotypic traits is that many traits – includ- ing agriculturally significant ones and especially in animals – are quanti- tative traits (traits that vary in magnitude over a spectrum, such as quan- tity of milk production, udder size and rate of growth). These traits tend to be the product of many genes and to be somewhat environmentally sensi- tive (such as the impact of nutrition on rates of growth and ultimate adult height). Quantitative traits vary by degree over a spectrum because of the multiple genes involved in the development of the trait. In cases where a trait is controlled by a single locus, a single allelic substitution can produce a large difference in the trait. When multiple genes are involved, a single allelic substitution will produce smaller differences, leading to a gradation in magnitude. An important property of many quantitative traits is the effect of the inter- action of the genes that control the trait; these are known as epistatic effects. In simple cases, a trait can be the product of many genes without any interac- tion among the genes other than the additive effect they each contribute to the trait. When, however, genes interact (such as one suppressing the expression of another), the magnitude of the trait will depend not only on the contribution of the particular allelic combination at each of the relevant loci but also on the particular mix of these allelic combinations. Abstractly, this can be illustrated by considering two loci, each of which has two alternate alleles (A and a, B and b). If no epistasis occurs, the differences in organisms will be the addi- tive effect of the different combinations of the alleles at each locus. If epistasis occurs, AaBb and Aabb could be different not just because Bb has a different effect on the trait than bb but also because bb has a different effect on Aa than Bb does. Bb, for example, might inhibit the effect Aa can have on the trait, whereas bb allows the full expression of Aa on the trait. In more complex cases, say, four loci A, B, C, D, a particular allelic combination at B (say, bb) might inhibit the expression of gene A but a particular allelic combination at D might inhibit the effect of bb on A. Epistasis clearly broadens dramatically the possible effects of genes on a trait; add to this the fact that many loci have more that two alter- nate alleles and it is easy to see how a trait could manifest a large array of magnitudes that create a continuous or quasi-continuous spectrum for that trait.
- 41. Quantitative genetics 11 The spectrum is quasi-continuous when trait variation is discrete but, in a population with a large number of potential phenotypes, it is effectively continuous. Consider the number of hairs on a dog. Hairs can be counted and, hence, there is a discrete numerical value in increments of 1. However, if the potential number of variants is large, say, 10,000, then the scale appears continuous. The essential feature of quantitative traits is that they are the product of multiple genes and are sensitive to environmental factors; whether the scale for the trait is discrete or continuous depends on the trait. Three types of quantitative traits are often identified: threshold traits (the trait is either present or not and is hence discrete), metric traits (the trait variation is continuous – all values on a continuous scale can, in principle, be realised), and meristic traits (the trait measurement is a discrete quantity but a large number of discrete variants are possible). Weight, height, total skin area and the like are examples of metric traits. The number of body hairs and the number of ova in the ovaries just prior to the onset of menses are examples of meristic traits. Being left-handed and having a cleft palate are examples of threshold traits. In an agricultural context, the volume of milk produced is a metric trait. The quantity of wool, on the other hand, depends on the number of follicles, which is discrete with a very large number of possible values; it is a meristic trait. Separating the genetic determinants from the environmental ones is chal- lenging. One manifestation of the brilliance of Ronald A. Fisher, who, you will recall, was a founder of modern population genetics, was his experimental method (see Fisher, 1935). Much of Fisher’s research was in agriculture; his experimental method was founded on three elements: randomisation, replica- tion and blocking. Essentially, the method requires the experimenter to divide a field into paired adjacent blocks and to manipulate the environmental vari- able (adding nitrogen fertiliser, for example) in one block but not the other. The block to be manipulated is chosen through a random process. Since there will be many such paired blocks in the field, replication is achieved. Because the blocks are adjacent, it is reasonable to assume that they are homoge- neous in all respects except the experimental variable. Any differences found (statistically significant differences) can be attributable only to the experimen- tal variable and, hence, it can be declared the cause. Although this method is commonly used in agriculture, the most commonly encountered references to this method today are not in agriculture but in medicine, where it has been touted as the gold standard of evidence. This is unfortunate because Fisher’s
- 42. 12 Scientific background experimental method is ideally suited to agriculture but not to clinical trials in medicine. In clinical trials, the method is known as randomised, controlled trials (RCTs). The critiques of RCTs in medicine are legion and I have set out the major ones in several publications (Thompson, 2010a, 2010b). That many of the traits of animals are quantitative makes the process of trait selection complicated. Compounding this complexity is the fact that in most cases more than one trait is desired; this is also true of agricultural plants. Charles Smith (1998) has identified 30–40 traits in dairy cattle, for example. 1.3 Hybridisation Open pollinated plants are those that will breed true from generation to gen- eration. They may have been manipulated, through selection or even molecu- larly, to fix certain beneficial traits; the criterion for open pollination is simply that the plant breeds true. This is an important feature for those who wish to retain seed from one season to the next, a point to which I return later. Hybrids, by contrast, will not breed true in the next generation. Consider the simple case of a plant heterozygous at a locus; here I focus on plants but the same things are applicable to animals as well. During meiosis (gamete forma- tion), pollen and ovules with only one of A or a will be formed. The ratio of A pollen and A ovules to a pollen and a ovules is close to 0.5A:0.5a. Assuming close to random pollination, the segregated A and a alleles will recombine in the fertilised ovules in this way: A a A AA Aa a Aa aa Hence, a field of hybrids will produce 50 per cent non-hybrid seed (the AA and aa combinations). A farmer will not know by inspection which are the hybrid seeds. Only by germinating the seed and growing the plants can one tell, and were a laboratory procedure available, it would have to examine each of the seeds to sort them into AA, Aa and aa – a procedure that would be complicated, expensive and time-consuming. Hence, a farmer who wants to grow a plant that is heterozygous at that locus will, each year, need to buy the seed from a seed company. Seed companies guarantee that close to 100 per cent of the seed
- 43. Hybridisation 13 will be heterozygous at that locus because they maintain and cross-fertilise original homozygous plants. This is, of course, a simple example in which there is only one heterozy- gous locus but it illustrates the more general feature of hybrids. The genetics in actual cases is far more complex than a single-locus model; additivity, dom- inance and epistasis (effects between loci) are all important. Also, frequently, desired traits are quantitative (involving more than one locus and environmen- tal factor) and commercial hybrid seed often involves creating hybrids from varieties found in different populations and the desired trait is only found in the hybrid. An in-depth account of the quantitative genetics of line crosses is provided by Lynch and Walsh (1998). Agriculturally beneficial hybrids are frequently obtained by crossing separate varieties, varieties which would not naturally interfertilise. Several outcomes are possible when creating hybrids by crossing plants from different populations; the seed may fail to develop, it may develop but produce a malformed plant, it may produce a normal plant that lacks vigour, it may produce a vigorous mature plant that is sterile, or it may produce a viable mature plant that will reproduce. For agricultural pur- poses, it is the viability and vigour of the plant and its agriculturally desirable traits that are important. Hence, sterility is only an issue if a farmer wants to retain seeds. This is unlikely, because, like the single-locus example, the offspring will be a mix of hybrids and non-hybrids. Hybrids are agriculturally valuable because they can manifest a trait not found in either parent or manifest an enhancement of a trait over its parental expression. One important trait found in many hybrids is greater vigour than either parent – a phenomenon known as hybrid vigour or heterosis. Hybrid maize (corn), for example, exhibits heterosis. The genetics of heterosis is still being uncovered but the phenomenon has been known for a long time; Darwin discussed it in his The Effects of Cross and Self Fertilisation in the Vegetable Kingdom (Darwin, 1876). What has also been known for a long time is that F1 generation heterosis is mostly lost in the F2 generation and beyond (remember that F0 is the parental generation, F1 the hybrid resulting from the cross, and F2 the generation resulting from the reproduction of the F1 generation), and in some cases the F2 plants are less fit that either F0 parent. Hence, the only way to ensure that plants will exhibit heterosis in each field planting is to use only seed produced by crossing F0 parents. Again, seed companies maintain and cross the original parent stock to produce seeds guaranteed to be F1 hybrids with the desired heterosis.
- 44. 14 Scientific background Maize5 is a superb example of the agricultural benefits derived from hybrid- isation. In addition, it is an important agricultural crop in much of the world; many rich and middle- and low-income countries have come to depend on maize for human consumption (as kernels, starch, oil and sugar) and animal fodder. Hence, understanding the features of this crop pays many dividends. Maize is a New World crop although there are Old World relatives of maize and perhaps in the very distant past the ancestors of New World maize (Zea mays) were more closely related to Old World Maydeae, but, as Mangelsdorf (1974) has noted, ‘The fact that corn can be crossed with both of its New World relatives, teosinte and Tripsacum, shows that the three taxa are related. The fact that it has never been successfully crossed with any of the Old World Maydeae strongly suggests that its relationship to them is more remote.’ Con- temporary maize is, hence, certainly of New World origin. In the late fifteenth century, when Europeans arrived in the Americas, it was being grown as a food crop throughout the Americas. Maize was a staple food throughout a large geographic area of South America well before Europeans arrived. More- over, in the complete absence of a knowledge of nutritional components of food, civilisations and groups that relied heavily on maize had figured out that obtaining a complete complement of nutrients depended on combining maize with other plant-derived foods; in most cases in South America beans and squash were the complementary foods. As we know today, maize is defi- cient in the amino acids (see below) tryptophan and lysine and the vitamins riboflavin and nicotinic acid. Beans contain adequate quantities of all of these. Maize is also low in fat and vitamin A. Squash provides the required additional amounts of both (Mangelsdorf, 1974, pp. 1–2; McGee, 1997, p. 242). There are five types of corn grown today: There are five different kinds of corn, each characterized by a different endosperm composition. Pop and flint corn have a relatively high protein content and a hard rather waxy starch. Dent corn, the variety most commonly grown for animal feed, has a localized deposit of soft waxy starch at the crown of the kernel, which produces a depression, or dent, in the dried kernel. Flour corn, with little protein and mostly waxy starch, is grown only by Native Americans for their own use. What we call Indian corn today are flour and 5 ‘Corn’ is a term used exclusively to denote maize in the USA. It has a broader meaning in Europe and in other English-speaking countries, sometimes being used as an alternative to ‘kernel’, or to ‘grain’ (as in ‘corning’ – curing with grains of salt). Sometimes, too, as in Great Britain, it designates the dominant local grain.
- 45. Hybridisation 15 flint varieties with variegated kernels. Finally sweet corn, very popular as a vegetable when immature, stores more sugar than starch, and therefore has translucent kernels and loose, wrinkled skins (starch grains refract light and plump out the kernels in the other types). It appears that popcorn was the first kind of corn to be cultivated, but all five were known to Native Americans long before the advent of the Europeans. (McGee, 1997, p. 241) Carl Linnaeus (also known as Carl von Linné), the father of modern taxon- omy, gave it the binomial name Zea mays (binomial = two-name structure, a genus name, Zea, and a species name, mays). The goal of maize breeding, as with all agricultural breeding, is to max- imise desirable traits: nutrients, yields, storage, days to maturity and ease of harvesting, for example. Simultaneously maximising all the valued traits is hardly ever possible; increasing the nutritional profile of a plant could entail forgoing longer storage, for instance. Selecting plants that manifest the max- imum value for a trait of interest (yield is always agriculturally important) and using them as the breeding stock is an ancient and effective technique for maximising a trait. The limit of this technique is the existing maximum value. Open pollinated plants have throughout agricultural history been improved (improved relative to human goals) by this technique. Another technique is hybridisation. Its advantage over selection alone is the development of new traits or new maximum values for existing traits. The beneficial traits are different for different types of maize. Obviously, traits affecting the popping process and product are central to popcorn and traits affecting sweetness are central to sweet maize. Yield, as already indi- cated, is important to all types of maize since it is a fundamental economic factor. Within each type of maize, there are numerous varieties. Crossing these varieties has proved to be an extremely successful way to improve a number of the desirable traits in maize. One trait directly related to yield is vigour (strong, healthy growth). Vigour means the plant is less susceptible to environmental stress, disease and pests; yields are consequently higher. Hybrid maize almost always manifests heterosis (hybrid vigour). Yield (kilograms/hectare, kg/ha, or bushels/acre, bu/ac) is a ready-made metric for quantifying vigour. There is a wealth of data on heterosis in maize using yield as the metric. Research conducted in the Corn Belt of the USA demonstrated dramatic yield increases from crosses of maize adapted to the Corn Belt climate with those from South America. The mean yield of the hybrids was, on average, 71 per cent higher
- 46. 16 Scientific background 11000 10000 9000 8000 7000 6000 Average Corn Yields (kg/ha) Average Corn Yields (bu/ac) 5000 4000 3000 2000 1000 0 1865 1875 1885 1895 1905 1915 1925 1935 Year 1945 1955 1965 1975 1985 1995 2005 0 20 40 60 80 100 120 140 160 biotech gmo b = 207.2/3.30 b = 113.2/1.81 b = 63.1/1.01 b = 1.0/0.02 single cross Actual Breeding plus Cultural Practice Gain double cross open pollinated Figure 1.1 Average US corn yields and kinds of corn (from Troyer, 2006 based on data from USDA/NASS: see USDA/NASS, 2009). Reproduced with permission of Crop Science. b values (regressions kg bu−1 ) indicate production gain per unit area per year; biotech gmo designates molecular-biotechnology-generated, genetically modified organisms (plants). than the mean yields of the parents. For example, the Saskatchewan variety is the highest yielding in that region at 3,120 kg/ha compared to a yield of 5,310 kg/ha for the cross of Syzldecka and Motto varieties (see Hallauer, 1978, p. 233). Figure 1.1 plots the increases in maize yield from 1866 to 2005 in the USA. The gains plotted are breeding plus ‘cultural practices’. As can be seen, open- pollination varieties, even with selective breeding improvements, resulted in very low yields relative to contemporary yields from hybrid crosses (and more recently biotech). Also, open-pollination varieties had reached a plateau by 1866; the improvements possible by selective breeding alone had been wrung out of the system. It is important to be clear that many other things contributed to the dramatic yield increases from 1930 onwards – the ‘cul- tural practices’ component of the gains. Synthetic fertilisers became available, as did herbicides and pesticides. Nonetheless, factoring these out, hybridisa- tion dramatically improved yields. It is also worth noting that maize pro- duction in the USA increased from 2 billion bushels in the early 1930s to
- 47. Molecular genetics 17 11.8 billion in 2006 while the land area planted in maize decreased by 22 per cent. An important point that has been emphasised here, and which I shall con- tinue to underscore, is that farmers who wish to obtain a benefit from hybrid plants will need to buy seed from a seed company every year. As conceded, a farmer could do what seed companies do. She could maintain sufficient stock of the parents, keep them in isolation (to avoid accidental cross-fertilisation with the hybrid crop), ensure that intrafertilisation cannot occur, ensure adequate cross-fertilisation (manually or via a pollinator such as a bee), and reserve some portion of the parental stock for intrafertilisation for the next cycle of the hybridisation process. The reality is that for most farmers this is not a cost-effective use of time or resources, not to mention that developing the skill and knowledge required is not a trivial investment. Furthermore, seed companies invest significant amounts in research and development to continually enhance their products, making it even more advantageous for a farmer to buy seeds annually. 1.4 Molecular genetics The birth of molecular genetics dates from 1953 when James D. Watson and Francis H. C. Crick sent a letter to Nature setting out their conception of the molecular structure of deoxyribose nucleic acid (DNA: now more frequently cited as deoxyribonucleic acid) (Watson and Crick, 1953a). A longer article by Watson and Crick exploring the implications of the structure of DNA was published in Nature the following month (Watson and Crick, 1953b). Since Watson and Crick submitted the letter and paper to Nature, they are credited with the actual discovery. However, the 1962 Nobel Prize in physiology or medicine was awarded to Watson, Crick and Maurice Wilkins. Wilkins was awarded one-third of the prize because of the role his X-ray diffraction studies played in the discovery. Rosalind Franklin, whose X-ray diffraction studies, it is often claimed, were more directly used by Watson and Crick, had died in 1958. Since only living persons can be nominated for the Nobel Prize, she was not among the nominees. Many researchers were on the quest for a model of the structure of DNA; Linus Pauling, already a Nobel laureate for his discovery of the alpha-helical structure of proteins (Pauling et al., 1951), started with a triple helix model but was zeroing in on a model identical to that of Watson and Crick. Watson
- 48. 18 Scientific background published in 1968 a delightfully frank personal perspective on the race to discover DNA’s structure; it was published by Atheneum (and simultaneously by McClelland and Stewart Ltd in Canada) after the Harvard Corporation rejected it, overruling the university’s Board of Syndics, which had already accepted it (Sullivan, 1968). The chemical structure uncovered by Watson and Crick – using crystallo- graphic data (X-ray diffraction patterns of crystals) from the work of Rosalind Franklin and Maurice Wilkins – is reasonably simple but its biological implica- tions are deep and far-reaching. Metaphorically, DNA is like a twisted ladder. The chemicals comprising the rungs are called nucleotides; there are four of them: adenine (A), cytosine (C), guanine (G) and thymine (T). Each rung is composed of two of these nucleotides. The rungs are joined together by a polymer (a chain of repeating chemical units called monomers). This creates the sides of the ladder (the strands). The specific polymer of DNA is a sugar phosphodiester polymer. The rungs constitute a code; actually, there are two codes: a code for DNA replication and a code for protein construction. The first code (DNA replication) depends on a chemical property of nucleotides: A can only combine with T and vice versa, and C can only com- bine with G and vice versa. Hence, if this metaphorical ladder is split down the middle, one half allows the construction of the other half. That is, if the nucleotide sequence on the rungs of one half is AAGTCG, since AT and CG are the only chemically possible combinations, the nucleotide sequence of the rungs on the other half of the ladder must be TTCAGC. The biological signifi- cance of this is obvious. During mitosis and meiosis the ladder separates into two halves (at the chromosomal level this is the separation of the two comple- mentary chromosomes). In mitosis, new complementary halves of each of the separated halves are built using the ‘code’ contained in the original halves. The result is two strands of identical DNA: one for each of the newly created cells. This solves the mystery of the replication of DNA. There are two kinds of cells in nature: prokaryotes and eukaryotes. Prokary- otes contain DNA but there is no nucleus in the cell. In eukaryotes, there is a nucleus in which the chromosomal DNA is contained, with some non- chromosomal DNA existing outside the nucleus. In later chapters, the impor- tance of the difference between these cells will become a little clearer. For now, the focus is on eukaryotes since the cells of agricultural plants and ani- mals are eukaryotes. As indicated in the previous section, in the resting phase, chromosomes exist in matched pairs (homologous chromosomes) in the cell
- 49. Molecular genetics 19 nucleus – the number of pairs differs according to the particular species. In mitosis, the chromosomes separate and the two strands of the double helical DNA separate. A complementary strand for each single strand is then con- structed resulting in duplicate homologous chromosomes. After this process of duplication, each set of homologous chromosomes moves to the opposite pole of the cell, and nuclear membranes begin to form around each set, after which the cell divides in the centre of the two poles to create two new identical cells. In meiosis, an additional division takes place without any replication. Each new cell (gamete) after this further division contains only one of the chromosomes (one half of the DNA ladder) from each homologous pair (cells with only one chromosome from each pair are called haploid). When two gametes unite (fertilisation), a new cell is formed and has a complete set of homologous chromosomes (cells with paired chromosomes are called diploid). The chromosomes in this new cell, although derived from the parent cells, are different from either parent. The second code embedded in DNA relates to the construction of proteins. Proteins are chains of amino acids and they are the main structural material of cells and organisms (structural proteins) and the main entities involved in cell functioning (functional proteins). Structural proteins are the main elements from which cells are constructed. They, thereby, are also the materials from which parts of multicellular organisms (such as mammals) are constructed, parts such as bone, liver, muscles and blood cells. Proteins also perform many diverse functions in cells. A class of proteins called enzymes regulate cell processes; most of the essential process would not occur without their action or would occur at rates far too slow to support cell and organism life. With respect to the coding function of DNA, the important feature is that proteins are composed of amino acids. Amino acids are simple chemical compounds. All amino acids have a common structure – an amino group (two molecules of hydrogen and one of nitrogen) and a carboxyl group (one molecule of carbon, two of oxygen and one of hydrogen). They differ only with respect to a side chain (a radical group R), as shown in the diagram. H O OH R H H N-C-C
- 50. 20 Scientific background Table 1.1 Codon dictionary U C A G U UUU Phe UUC Phe UUA Leu UUG Leu UCU Ser UCC Ser UCA Ser UCG Ser UAU Tyr UAC Tyr UAA STOP UAG STOP UGU Cys UGC Cys UGA STOP UGG Trp C CUU Leu CUC Leu CUA Leu CUG Leu CCU Pro CCC Pro CCA Pro CCG Pro CAU His CAC His CAA Gln CAG Gln CGU Arg CGC Arg CGA Arg CGG Arg A AUU Ile AUC Ile AUA Ile AUG Met and START ACU Thr ACC Thr ACA Thr ACG Thr AAU Asn AAC Asn AAA Lys AAG Lys AGU Ser AGC Ser AGA Arg AGG Arg G GUU Val GUC Val GUA Val GUG Val GCU Ala GCC Ala GCA Ala GCG Ala GAU Asp GAC Asp GAA Glu GAG Glu GGU Gly GGC Gly GGA Gly GGG Gly Twenty standard amino acids (i.e. 20 different R side chains) occur in proteins (glycine, alanine, valine, leucine, isoleucine, methionine, phenylala- nine, tryptophan, proline, serine, threonine, cysteine, tyrosine, asparagine, glutamine, aspartic acid, glutamic acid, lysine, arginine and histodine). Pro- teins are built by stringing amino acids together. This can be thought of metaphorically as threading beads of 20 different colours together. With 20 different amino acids available, proteins comprised of 10 amino acids have 2010 (slightly more than 10 trillion) different possible combinations. Pro- teins with a string of 20 amino acids have 2020 possible combinations. The sequence of nucleotides on the separated ladder of DNA determines the spe- cific amino acid to be added to the chain and the location in which it is added. Clearly, using only one nucleotide of DNA to determine which amino acid goes where is inadequate since only 4 amino acids could be designated. Using two nucleotides would allow the designation of 16 amino acids. Using three allows all 20 to be designated. And indeed, sets of three nucleotides (triplets called codons) are what evolved. Obviously, triplets of 4 amino acids are more than is needed to code 20 amino acids. Since order matters, there are 64 possible
- 51. Molecular genetics 21 triplet combinations of 4 nucleotides. The unravelling of the code revealed that there is a lot of redundancy in the coding (there is more than one codon for all amino acids except methionine and tryptophan); also there are codons for stopping the creation of a string of amino acids and one that does double duty, coding for ‘start the protein building process’ and for methionine (see Table 1.1). When the codon for methionine (AUG) occurs at the beginning of the chain it codes for start, everywhere else it codes for methionine. The pro- cess of building proteins from the code embedded in DNA, unlike replication, involves another molecule RNA (ribonucleic acid). RNA is similar to DNA. One of the ways it differs from DNA is the substitution of the nucleotide uridine for thymine. Hence, when RNA is transcribed from DNA, uridine and not thymine is paired with adenine. Proteins are constructed by ‘reading’ triplets of nucleotides from RNA (DNA and RNA are directional with 3 and 5 ends, and ‘reading’ nearly always begins at the 3 end); RNA is transcribed from DNA (i.e. RNA is built by ‘reading’ triplets from DNA). Consequently, codons are triplets of adenine (A), cytosine (C), guanine (G) and uridine (U).
- 52. 2 Application of genetics to agriculture 2.1 Genetic modification of plants and animals: techniques Modifying an organism requires altering its DNA: adding, deleting or substi- tuting a string of nucleotides that code for a trait in the mature plant, animal, bacterium or fungus. This can be done directly or by using a vector – an entity that will modify an organism’s DNA. Both methods rely on the ability to cleave (cut) DNA at desired locations and ligate (join) pieces of DNA. When a vector is used, the modification is made to the vector’s DNA; the vector then modifies the organism’s DNA. Use of vectors is common in plant biotechnology, as it also is in medical and environmental biotechnology that involves modifying bacteria. I discuss below the use of an element in the bacterium Agrobacterium tumefaciens as a vector in plant modification. A virus, phage, that infects bacteria is commonly used to modify the DNA of bacteria in medical and environmental biotechnology. A number of direct modification techniques are used on animals: retrovirus- mediated transgenics, pronuclear injection (the most common), nuclear trans- fer to embryonic stem cells, and sperm-mediated transfer. The potential opened up by development of these techniques is impressive but, to date, GM animal agriculture is in its infancy. I set out the reasons for this below. 2.1.1 Cleaving and ligating Fortuitously for genetic engineers, there is a class of naturally occurring enzymes that cleave DNA at specific sites (areas with specific nucleotide sequences). Two known functions of these enzymes (known as restriction enzymes) are: (1) to allow a pathogen to alter or destroy another organism’s DNA, or (2) to allow an organism to defend itself against foreign DNA by being able to alter or destroy the invader’s DNA. As a result, restriction enzymes 22
- 53. Genetic modification of plants and animals: techniques 23 are numerous and diverse. A second aspect, worth noting in passing, of the existence and functions of restriction enzymes is of less importance to human- directed genetic modification but essential for cells. Since cells produce restric- tion enzymes for the second function, it is important that they have a way of protecting their own DNA against the cleavage potential of the restriction enzymes they produce. This is done through a methylation system, the details of which are not important for understanding genetic engineering. The first restriction enzyme was isolated in 1968 from the bacterium Escherichia coli (E. coli). E. coli is named after the German physician Theodor Escherich, who discovered it. It has been extensively studied and has been widely used in medical and environmental biotechnology (to produce, for instance, pharmaceuticals, and to degrade spilled oil). In these contexts, it has many advantages. For example, it is easy and inexpensive to grow (it has a rapid doubling time: 20–30 minutes), laboratory strains contain mutations that make survival outside the laboratory impossible, and it contains DNA outside its chromosomes (extra-chromosomal DNA), which can be used as vectors. Unfortunately, its restriction enzyme, E. coli K, has complex charac- teristics, which render it difficult to study and use. Its discovery, however, initiated the quest for other restriction enzymes, and two years later a much more useful restriction enzyme was isolated from the bacterium Haemophilus influenzae, the restriction enzyme H. influenzae Rd. This enzyme cleaves the DNA of a bacteriophage (T7), a class of viruses to which I shall return later. Restriction enzymes cleave DNA at specific sites known as their recognition sites. A recognition site is a small segment of complementary strands of DNA. In the case of H. influenzae Rd (also designated HindIII), the nucleotide sequence at the recognition site is: A T A T G C C G T A T A This recognition site is six nucleotides in length. The number varies with the restriction enzyme. This restriction enzyme breaks the rungs of the ladder at this six-nucleotide location, separating the strand of DNA. A T G C A T C G T A T A +
- 54. 24 Application of genetics to agriculture Since the two strands are complementary, only one need be specified in this case, but a feature of the most useful restriction enzymes does require a specification of both strands. In 1972, the restriction enzyme EcoRI was isolated from the RY strain of E. coli. Its recognition site is: G C A T A T T A T A C G What makes this enzyme, and others like it, interesting and important in genetic engineering is the nature of its cleavage pattern. Instead of cleaving DNA at the opposite ends of the recognition site, it cleaves DNA some place in the middle of the recognition site. Specifically, in this case, the cleavage pattern is: G C T T A A A A T T C G + This pattern, termed ‘cohesive ends’, or colloquially, ‘sticky ends’, is impor- tant because the exposed single strands make ligation easier. When two complementary sticky ends meet (ends with complementary base pairing), they associate – weakly join together. To complete the join- ing requires that a continuous sugar-phosphate backbone be formed. This requires another enzyme, DNA ligase. This enzyme catalyses the formation of a phosphodiester bond between two DNA chains; its essential role, in nature, is to repair nicks in DNA, but in genetic engineering it is used to ligate a human-introduced strand of DNA to an existing strand. Techniques for cleaving (separating) DNA at appropriate points and ligat- ing (joining) strands of DNA are now well understood, and enzymes for both processes are available to biotechnologists. Most of the desirable required enzymes can be purchased from specialised companies in the way seeds can be purchased from companies that specialise in seed development and production. 2.1.2 Vectors As indicated above, a common method of modifying a plant’s DNA employs a vector. This can be easily explained by describing an actual case. A
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- 59. The Project Gutenberg eBook of Philosophy and the Social Problem
- 60. This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook. Title: Philosophy and the Social Problem Author: Will Durant Release date: June 5, 2013 [eBook #42880] Most recently updated: October 23, 2024 Language: English Credits: Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from scanned images of public domain material from the Google Print project.) *** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PHILOSOPHY AND THE SOCIAL PROBLEM ***
- 61. PHILOSOPHY AND THE SOCIAL PROBLEM THE MACMILLAN COMPANY NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO · DALLAS ATLANTA · SAN FRANCISCO MACMILLAN CO., Limited LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA MELBOURNE THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. TORONTO PHILOSOPHY AND THE SOCIAL PROBLEM BY WILL DURANT, Ph.D. INSTRUCTOR IN PHILOSOPHY, EXTENSION TEACHING COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY τὁν μἑν βἱον ἡ φὑσις ἑδωκε, το δἑ καλὡς ζἡν ἡ τἑχνη. —Unknown Dramatic Poet.
- 62. NEW YORK THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 1917 All rights reserved Copyright, 1917, By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. —— Set up and electrotyped. Published September, 1917. Norwood Press J. S. Cushing Co.—Berwick Smith Co. Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. TO ALDEN FREEMAN CONTENTS PAGE Introduction 1 PART I HISTORICAL APPROACH CHAPTER I THE PRESENT SIGNIFICANCE OF THE SOCRATIC ETHIC I.History as rebarbarization 5 II.Philosophy as disintegrator 6 III.Individualism in Athens 7 IV.The Sophists 9 V.Intelligence as virtue 12
- 63. VI.The meaning of virtue 15 VII.“Instinct” and “reason” 23 VIII.The secularization of morals 27 IX.“Happiness” and “virtue” 31 X.The Socratic challenge 33 CHAPTER II PLATO: PHILOSOPHY AS POLITICS I.The man and the artist 36 II.How to solve the social problem 40 III.On making philosopher-kings 44 IV.Dishonest democracy 52 V.Culture and slavery 55 VI.Plasticity and order 60 VII.The meaning of justice 62 VIII.The future of Plato 64 CHAPTER III FRANCIS BACON AND THE SOCIAL POSSIBILITIES OF SCIENCE I.From Plato to Bacon 67 II.Character 69 III.The expurgation of the intellect 70 IV.Knowledge is power 74 V.The socialization of science 76 VI.Science and Utopia 79 VII.Scholasticism in science 81 VIII.The Asiatics of Europe 85 CHAPTER IV SPINOZA ON THE SOCIAL PROBLEM I.Hobbes 90 II.The spirit of Spinoza 91 III.Political ethics 93 IV.Is man a political animal? 95 V.What the social problem is 98 VI.Free speech 101 VII.Virtue as power 105
- 64. VIII.Freedom and order 108 IX.Democracy and intelligence 112 X.The legacy of Spinoza 115 CHAPTER V NIETZSCHE I.From Spinoza to Nietzsche 117 II.Biographical 120 III.Exposition 126 1. Morality as impotence 126 2. Democracy 128 3. Feminism 131 4. Socialism and anarchism 133 5. Degeneration 138 6. Nihilism 141 7. The will to power 143 8. The superman 150 9. How to make supermen 155 10. On the necessity of exploitation 159 11. Aristocracy 162 12. Signs of ascent 165 IV.Criticism 172 V.Nietzsche replies 177 VI.Conclusion 178 PART II SUGGESTIONS CHAPTER I SOLUTIONS AND DISSOLUTIONS I.The problem 185 II.“Solutions” 190 1. Feminism 190 2. Socialism 194 3. Eugenics 198 4. Anarchism 200 5. Individualism 202
- 65. 6. Individualism again 202 CHAPTER II THE RECONSTRUCTIVE FUNCTION OF PHILOSOPHY I.Epistemologs 214 II.Philosophy as control 218 III.Philosophy as mediator between science and statesmanship 222 CHAPTER III ORGANIZED INTELLIGENCE I.The need 227 II.The organization of intelligence 230 III.Information as panacea 234 IV.Sex, art, and play in social reconstruction 240 V.Education 246 CHAPTER IV THE READER SPEAKS I.The democratization of aristocracy 251 II.The professor as Buridan’s ass 255 III.Is information wanted? 257 IV.Finding Mæcenas 261 V.The chance of philosophy 264 Conclusion 268
- 66. PART I HISTORICALAPPROACH PHILOSOPHY AND THE SOCIAL PROBLEM INTRODUCTION THE purpose of this essay is to show: first, that the social problem has been the basic concern of many of the greater philosophers; second, that an approach to the social problem through philosophy is the first condition of even a moderately successful treatment of this problem; and third, that an approach to philosophy through the social problem is indispensable to the revitalization of philosophy. By “philosophy” we shall understand a study of experience as a whole, or of a portion of experience in relation to the whole. By the “social problem” we shall understand, simply and very broadly, the problem of reducing human misery by modifying social institutions. It is a problem that, ever reshaping itself, eludes sharper definition; for misery is related to desire, and desire is personal and in perpetual flux: each of us sees the problem unsteadily in terms of his own changing aspirations. It is an uncomfortably complicated problem, of course; and we must bear in mind that the limit of our intention here is to consider philosophy as an approach to the problem, and the problem itself as an approach to philosophy. We are proposing no solutions. Let us, as a wholesome measure of orientation, touch some of the mountain-peaks in philosophical history, with an eye for the social interest that lurks in every metaphysical maze. “Aristotle,” says Professor Woodbridge, “set treatise-writers the fashion of beginning each treatise by reviewing previous opinions on their subject, and proving them all wrong.”[1] The purpose of the next five chapters will be rather the opposite: we shall see if some supposedly dead philosophies do not admit of considerable resuscitation. Instead of trying to show that Socrates, Plato,
- 67. Bacon, Spinoza, and Nietzsche were quite mistaken in their views on the social problem, we shall try to see what there is in these views that can help us to understand our own situation to-day. We shall not make a collection of systems of social philosophy; we shall not lose ourselves in the past in a scholarly effort to relate each philosophy to its social and political environment; we shall try to relate these philosophies rather to our own environment, to look at our own problems successively through the eyes of these philosophers. Other interpretations of these men we shall not so much contradict as seek to supplement. Each of our historical chapters, then, will be not so much a review as a preface and a progression. The aim will be neither history nor criticism, but a kind of construction by proxy. It is a method that has its defects: it will, for example, sacrifice thoroughness of scholarship to present applicability, and will necessitate some repetitious gathering of the threads when we come later to our more personal purpose. But as part requital for this, we shall save ourselves from considering the past except as it is really present, except as it is alive and nourishingly significant to-day. And from each study we shall perhaps make some advance towards our final endeavor,— the mutual elucidation of the social problem and philosophy. CHAPTER I THE PRESENT SIGNIFICANCE OF THE SOCRATIC ETHIC I History as Rebarbarization HISTORY is a process of rebarbarization. A people made vigorous by arduous physical conditions of life, and driven by the increasing exigencies of survival, leaves its native habitat, moves down upon a less vigorous people, conquers, displaces, or absorbs it. Habits of resolution and activity developed in a less merciful environment now rapidly produce an economic surplus; and part of the resources so accumulated serve as capital in a campaign of imperialist conquest. The growing surplus generates a leisure class, scornful of physical activity and adept in the arts of luxury. Leisure begets speculation; speculation dissolves dogma and corrodes custom,
- 68. develops sensitivity of perception and destroys decision of action. Thought, adventuring in a labyrinth of analysis, discovers behind society the individual; divested of its normal social function it turns inward and discovers the self. The sense of common interest, of commonwealth, wanes; there are no citizens now, there are only individuals. From afar another people, struggling against the forces of an obdurate environment, sees here the cleared forests, the liberating roads, the harvest of plenty, the luxury of leisure. It dreams, aspires, dares, unites, invades. The rest is as before. Rebarbarization is rejuvenation. The great problem of any civilization is how to rejuvenate itself without rebarbarization. II Philosophy as Disintegrator THE rise of philosophy, then, often heralds the decay of a civilization. Speculation begins with nature and begets naturalism; it passes to man— first as a psychological mystery and then as a member of society—and begets individualism. Philosophers do not always desire these results; but they achieve them. They feel themselves the unwilling enemies of the state: they think of men in terms of personality while the state thinks of men in terms of social mechanism. Some philosophers would gladly hold their peace, but there is that in them which will out; and when philosophers speak, gods and dynasties fall. Most states have had their roots in heaven, and have paid the penalty for it: the twilight of the gods is the afternoon of states. Every civilization comes at last to the point where the individual, made by speculation conscious of himself as an end per se, demands of the state, as the price of its continuance, that it shall henceforth enhance rather than exploit his capacities. Philosophers sympathize with this demand, the state almost always rejects it: therefore civilizations come and civilizations go. The history of philosophy is essentially an account of the efforts great men have made to avert social disintegration by building up natural moral sanctions to take the place of the supernatural sanctions which they themselves have destroyed. To find—without resorting to celestial machinery—some way of winning for their people social coherence and
- 69. permanence without sacrificing plasticity and individual uniqueness to regimentation,—that has been the task of philosophers, that is the task of philosophers. We should be thankful that it is. Who knows but that within our own time may come at last the forging of an effective natural ethic?—an achievement which might be the most momentous event in the history of our world. III Individualism in Athens THE great ages in the history of European thought have been for the most part periods of individualistic effervescence: the age of Socrates, the age of Cæsar and Augustus, the Renaissance, the Enlightenment;—and shall we add the age which is now coming to a close? These ages have usually been preceded by periods of imperialist expansion: imperialism requires a tightening of the bonds whereby individual allegiance to the state is made secure; and this tightening, given a satiety of imperialism, involves an individualistic reaction. And again, the dissolution of the political or economic frontier by conquest or commerce breaks down cultural barriers between peoples, develops a sense of the relativity of customs, and issues in the opposition of individual “reason” to social tradition. A political treatise attributed to the fourth-century B.C. reflects the attitude that had developed in Athens in the later fifth century. “If all men were to gather in a heap the customs which they hold to be good and noble, and if they were next to select from it the customs which they hold to be base and vile, nothing would be left over.”[2] Once such a view has found capable defenders, the custom-basis of social organization begins to give way, and institutions venerable with age are ruthlessly subpœnaed to appear before the bar of reason. Men begin to contrast “Nature” with custom, somewhat to the disadvantage of the latter. Even the most basic of Greek institutions is questioned: “The Deity,” says a fourth-century Athenian Rousseau, “made all men free; Nature has enslaved no man.”[3] Botsford speaks of “the powerful influence of fourth-century socialism on the intellectual class.”[4] Euripides and Aristophanes are full of talk about a movement for the emancipation of women.[5] Law and government are
- 70. examined: Anarcharsis’ comparison of the law to a spider’s web, which catches small flies and lets the big ones escape, now finds sympathetic comprehension; and men arise, like Callicles and Thrasymachus, who frankly consider government as a convenient instrument of mass- exploitation. IV The Sophists THE cultural representatives of this individualistic development were the Sophists. These men were university professors without a university and without the professorial title. They appeared in response to a demand for higher instruction on the part of the young men of the leisure class; and within a generation they became the most powerful intellectual force in Greece. There had been philosophers, questioners, before them; but these early philosophers had questioned nature rather than man or the state. The Sophists were the first group of men in Greece to overcome the natural tendency to acquiesce in the given order of things. They were proud men,— humility is a vice that never found root in Greece,—and they had a buoyant confidence in the newly discovered power of human intelligence. They assumed, in harmony with the spirit of all Greek achievement, that in the development and extension of knowledge lay the road to a sane and significant life, individual and communal; and in the quest for knowledge they were resolved to scrutinize unawed all institutions, prejudices, customs, morals. Protagoras professed to respect conventions,[6] and pronounced conventions and institutions the source of man’s superiority to the beast; but his famous principle, that “man is the measure of all things,” was a quiet hint that morals are a matter of taste, that we call a man “good” when his conduct is advantageous to us, and “bad” when his conduct threatens to make for our own loss. To the Sophists virtue consisted, not in obedience to unjudged rules and customs, but in the efficient performance of whatever one set out to do. They would have condemned the bungler and let the “sinner” go. That they were flippant sceptics, putting no distinction of worth between any belief and its opposite, and willing to prove anything for a price, is an old accusation which later students of Greek philosophy are almost unanimous in rejecting.[7]
- 71. The great discovery of the Sophists was the individual; it was an achievement for which Plato and his oligarchical friends could not forgive them, and because of which they incurred the contumely which it is now so hard to dissociate from their name. The purpose of laws, said the Sophists, was to widen the possibilities of individual development; if laws did not do that, they had better be forgotten. There was a higher law than the laws of men,—a natural law, engraved in every heart, and judge of every other law. The conscience of the individual was above the dictates of any state. All radicalisms lay compact in that pronouncement. Plato, prolific of innovations though he was, yet shrank from such a leap into the new. But the Sophists pressed their point, men listened to them, and the Greek world changed. When Socrates appeared, he found that world all out of joint, a war of all against all, a stridency of uncoördinated personalities rushing into chaos. And when he was asked, What should men do to be saved, he answered, simply, Let us think. V Intelligence as Virtue INTELLIGENCE as virtue: it was not a new doctrine; it was merely a new emphasis placed on an already important element in the Greek—or rather the Athenian—view of life. But it was a needed emphasis. The Sophists (not Socrates, pace Cicero) had brought philosophy down from heaven to earth, but they had left it grovelling at the feet of business efficiency and success, a sort of ancilla pecuniæ, a broker knowing where one’s soul could be invested at ten per cent. Socrates agreed with the Sophists in condemning any but a very temporary devotion to metaphysical abstractions,—the one and the many, motion and rest, the indivisibility of space, the puzzles of predication, and so forth; he joined them in ridiculing the pursuit of knowledge for its own sake, and in demanding that all thinking should be focussed finally on the real concerns of life; but his spirit was as different from theirs as the spirit of Spinoza was different from that of a mediæval money-lender. With the Sophists philosophy was a profession; they were “lovers of wisdom”—for a consideration. With Socrates philosophy was a quest of the permanently good, of the lastingly satisfying attitude to life. To find out just what are justice, temperance, courage, piety,—“that is an inquiry which I shall never be weary of pursuing so far as in me lies.” It
- 72. was not an easy quest; and the results were not startlingly definite: “I wander to and fro when I attempt these problems, and do not remain consistent with myself.” His interlocutors went from him apparently empty; but he had left in them seed which developed in the after-calm of thought. He could clarify men’s notions, he could reveal to them their assumptions and prejudices; but he could not and would not manufacture opinions for them. He left no written philosophy because he had only the most general advice to give, and knew that no other advice is ever taken. He trusted his friends to pass on the good word. Now what was the good word? It was, first of all, the identity of virtue and wisdom, morals and intelligence; but more than that, it was the basic identity, in the light of intelligence, of communal and individual interests. Here at the Sophist’s feet lay the débris of the old morality. What was to replace it? The young Athenians of a generation denuded of supernatural belief would not listen to counsels of “virtue,” of self-sacrifice to the community. What was to be done? Should social and political pressure be brought to bear upon the Sophists to compel them to modify the individualistic tenor of their teachings? Analysis destroys morals. What is the moral—destroy analysis? The moral, answered Socrates, is to get better morals, to find an ethic immune to the attack of the most ruthless sceptic. The Sophists were right, said Socrates; morality means more than social obedience. But the Sophists were wrong in opposing the good of the individual to that of the community; Socrates proposed to prove that if a man were intelligent, he would see that those same qualities which make a man a good citizen— justice, wisdom, temperance, courage—are also the best means to individual advantage and development. All these “virtues” are simply the supreme and only virtue—wisdom—differentiated by the context of circumstance. No action is virtuous unless it is an intelligent adaptation of means to a criticised end. “Sin” is failure to use energy to the best account; it is an unintelligent waste of strength. A man does not knowingly pursue anything but the Good; let him but see his advantage, and he will be attracted towards it irresistibly; let him pursue it, and he will be happy, and the state safe. The trouble is that men lack perspective, and cannot see their true Good; they need not “virtue” but intelligence, not sermons but training in perspective. The man who has ἑνκρἁτεια, who rules within, who is strong enough to stop and think, the man who has achieved σωφροσὑνη,—the self-
- 73. knowledge that brings self-command,—such a man will not be deceived by the tragedy of distance, by the apparent smallness of the future good alongside of the more easily appreciable good that lies invitingly at hand. Hence the moral importance of dialectic, of cross-examination, of concept and definition: we must learn “how to make our ideas clear”; we must ask ourselves just what it is that we want, just how real this seeming good is. Dialectic is the handmaiden of virtue; and all clarification is morality. VI The Meaning of Virtue THIS is frank intellectualism, of course; and the best-refuted doctrine in philosophy. It is amusing to observe the ease with which critics and historians despatch the Socratic ethic. It is “an extravagant paradox,” says Sidgwick,[8] “incompatible with moral freedom.” “Nothing is easier,” says Gomperz,[9] “than to detect the one-sidedness of this point of view.” “This doctrine,” says Grote,[10] “omits to notice, what is not less essential, the proper conditions of the emotions, desires, etc.” “It tended to make all conduct a matter of the intellect and not of the character, and so in a sense to destroy moral responsibility,” says Hobhouse.[11] “Himself blessed with a will so powerful that it moved almost without friction,” says Henry Jackson,[12] “Socrates fell into the error of ignoring its operations, and was thus led to regard knowledge as the sole condition of well-doing.” “Socrates was a misunderstanding,” says Nietzsche;[13] “reason at any price, life made clear, cold, cautious, conscious, without instincts, opposed to the instincts, was in itself only a disease, ... and by no means a return to ‘virtue,’ to ‘health,’ and to happiness.” And the worn-out dictum about seeing the better and approving it, yet following the worse, is quoted as the deliverance of a profound psychologist, whose verdict should be accepted as a final solution of the problem. Before refuting a doctrine it is useful to try to understand it. What could Socrates have meant by saying that all real virtue is intelligence? What is virtue? A civilization may be characterized in terms of its conception of virtue. There is hardly anything more distinctive of the Greek attitude, as compared with our own, than the Greek notion of virtue as intelligence.
- 74. Consider the present connotations of the word virtue: men shrink at having the term applied to them; and “nothing makes one so vain,” says Oscar Wilde, “as being told that one is a sinner.” During the Middle Ages the official conception of virtue was couched in terms of womanly excellence; and the sternly masculine God of the Hebrews suffered considerably from the inroads of Mariolatry. Protestantism was in part a rebellion of the ethically subjugated male; in Luther the man emerges riotously from the monk. But as people cling to the ethical implications of a creed long after the creed itself has been abandoned, so our modern notion of virtue is still essentially mediæval and feminine. Virginity, chastity, conjugal fidelity, gentility, obedience, loyalty, kindness, self-sacrifice, are the stock-in-trade of all respectable moralists; to be “good” is to be harmless, to be not “bad,” to be a sort of sterilized citizen, guaranteed not to injure. This sheepish innocuousness comes easily to the natively uninitiative, to those who are readily amenable to fear and prohibitions. It is a static virtue; it contracts rather than expands the soul; it offers no handle for development, no incentive to social stimulation and productivity. It is time we stopped calling this insipidly negative attitude by the once mighty name of virtue. Virtue must be defined in terms of that which is vitally significant in our lives. And therefore, too, virtue cannot be defined in terms of individual subordination to the group. The vitally significant thing in a man’s life is not the community, but himself. To ask him to consider the interests of the community above his own is again to put up for his worship an external, transcendent god; and the trouble with a transcendent god is that he is sure to be dethroned. To call “immoral” the refusal of the individual to meet such demands is the depth of indecency; it is itself immoral,—that is, it is nonsense. The notion of “duty” as involving self-sacrifice, as essentially duty to others, is a soul-cramping, funereal notion, and deserves all that Ibsen and his progeny have said of it.[14] Ask the individual to sacrifice himself to the community, and it will not be long before he sacrifices the community to himself. Granted that, in the language of Heraclitus, there is always a majority of fools, and that self-sacrifice can be procured by the simple hypnotic suggestion of post-mortem remuneration: sooner or later come doubt and disillusionment, and the society whose permanence was so easily secured becomes driftwood on the tides of time. History means that if it means anything.
- 75. No; the intelligent individual will give allegiance to the group of which he happens to find himself a member, only so far as the policies of the group accord with his own criticised desires. Whatever allegiance he offers will be to those forces, wherever they may be, which in his judgment move in the line of these desires. Even for such forces he will not sacrifice himself,—though there may be times when martyrdom is a luxury for which life itself is not too great a price. Since these forces have been defined in terms of his own judgment and desire, conflict between them and himself can come only when his behavior diverges from the purposes defined and resumed in times of conscious thought,—i.e., only when he ceases to adapt means to his ends, ceases, that is, to be intelligent. The prime moral conflict is not between the individual and his group, but between the partial self of fragmentary impulse and the coördinated self of conscious purpose. There is a group within each man as well as without: a group of partial selves is the reality behind the figment of the unitary self. Every individual is a society, every person is a crowd. And the tragedies of the moral life lie not in the war of each against all, but in the restless interplay of these partial selves behind the stage of action. As a man’s intelligence grows this conflict diminishes, for both means and ends, both behavior and purposes, are being continually revised and redirected in accordance with intelligence, and therefore in convergence towards it. Progressively the individual achieves unity, and through unity, personality. Faith in himself has made him whole. The ethical problem, so far as it is the purely individual problem of attaining to coördinated personality, is solved. Moral responsibility, then,—whatever social responsibility may be,—is the responsibility of the individual to himself. The social is not necessarily the moral—let the sociological fact be what it will. The unthinking conformity of the “normal social life” is, just because it is unthinking, below the level of morality: let us call it sociality, and make morality the prerogative of the really thinking animal. In any society so constituted as to give to the individual an increase in powers as recompense for the pruning of his liberties, the unsocial will be immoral,—that is, self-destructively unreasonable and unintelligent; but even in such a society the moral would overflow the margins of the social, and would take definition ultimately from the congruity of the action with the criticised purposes of the individual self. This does not mean that all ethics lies compact in the shibboleth, “Be yourself.” Those who make the least sparing use of this
- 76. phrase are too apt to consider it an excuse for lives that reek with the heat of passion and smack of insufficient evolution. These people need to be reminded—all the more forcibly since the most palatable and up-to-date philosophies exalt instinct and deride thought—that one cannot be thoroughly one’s self except by deliberation and intelligence. To act indeliberately is not to be, but in great part to cancel, one’s self. For example, the vast play of direct emotional expression is almost entirely indeliberate: if you are greatly surprised, your lips part, your eyes open a trifle wider, your pulse quickens, your respiration is affected; and if I am surprised, though you be as different from me as Hyperion from a satyr, my respiration will be affected, my pulse will quicken, my eyes will open a trifle wider, and my lips will part;—my direct reaction will be essentially the same as yours. The direct expression of surprise is practically the same in all the higher animals. Darwin’s classical description of the expression of fear is another example; it holds for every normal human being; not to speak of lower species. So with egotism, jealousy, anger, and a thousand other instinctive reaction-complexes; they are common to the species, and when we so react, we are expressing not our individual selves so much as the species to which we happen to belong. When you hit a man because he has “insulted” you, when you swagger a little after delivering a successful speech, when you push aside women and children in order to take their place in the rescue boat, when you do any one of a million indeliberate things like these, it is not you that act, it is your species, it is your ancestors, acting through you; your acquired individual difference is lost in the whirlwind of inherited impulse. Your act, as the Scholastics phrased it, is not a “human” act; you yourself are not really acting in any full measure of yourself, you are but playing slave and mouth-piece to the dead. But subject the inherited tendencies to the scrutiny of your individual experience, think, and your action will then express yourself, not in any abbreviated sense, but up to the hilt. There is no merit, no “virtue,” no development in playing the game of fragmentary impulses, in living up to the past; to be moral, to grow, is to be not part but all of one’s self, to call into operation the acquired as well as the inherited elements of one’s character, to be whole. So many of us invite ruin by actions which do not really express us, but are the voice of the merest fragment of ourselves,—the remainder of us being meanwhile asleep.[15] To be whole, to be your deliberate self, to do what you please but only after considering what you really please, to follow your own ideals
- 77. (but to follow them!), to choose your own means and not to have them forced upon you by your ancestors, to act consciously, to see the part sub specie totius, to see the present act in its relation to your vital purposes, to think, to be intelligent,—all these are definitions of virtue and morality. There is, then, in the old sense of the word, no such thing as morality, there is only intelligence or stupidity. Yes, virtue is calculus, horrible as that may sound to long and timid ears: to calculate properly just what you must do to attain your real ends, to see just what and where your good is, and to make for it,—that is all that can without indecency be asked of any man, that is all that is ever vouchsafed by any man who is intelligent. Perhaps you think it is an easy virtue,—this cleaving to intelligence,— easier than being harmless. Try it. VII “Instinct” and “Reason” AND now to go back to the refutations. The strongest objection to the Socratic doctrine is that intelligence is not a creator, but only a servant, of ends. What we shall consider to be our good appears to be determined not by reason, but by desire. Reason itself seems but the valet of desire, ready to do for it every manner of menial service. Desire is an adept at marshalling before intelligence such facts as favor the wish, and turns the mind’s eye resolutely away from other truth, as a magician distracts the attention of his audience while his hands perform their wonders. If morality is entirely a matter of intelligence, it is entirely a question of means, it is excluded irrevocably from the realm of ends. The conclusion may be allowed in substance, though it passes beyond the warrant of the facts. It is true that basic ends are never suggested by intelligence, reason, knowledge; but it is also true that many ends suggested by desire are vetoed by intelligence. Why are the desires of a man more modest than those of a boy or a child, if not because the blows of repeated failure have dulled the edge of desire? Desires lapse, or lose in stature, as knowledge grows and man takes lessons from reality. There is an adaptation of ends to means as well as of means to ends; and desire comes at last to take counsel of its slave.
- 78. Be it granted, none the less, that ends are dictated by desire, and that if morality is intelligence, there can be no question of the morality of any end per se. That, strangely, is not a refutation of the Socratic ethic so much as an essential element of it and its starting-point. Every desire has its own initial right; morality means not the suppression of desires, but their coördination. What that implies for society we shall see presently; for the individual it implies that he is immoral, not when he seeks his own advantage, but when he does not really behave for his own advantage, when some narrow temporary purpose upsets perspective and overrides a larger end.[16] What we call “self-control” is the permanent predominance of the larger end; what we call weakness of will is instability of perspective. Self-control means an intelligent judgment of values, an intelligent coördination of motives, an intelligent forecasting of effects. It is far-sight, far-hearing, an enlargement of the sense; it hears the weakened voice of the admonishing past, it sees results far down the vista of the future; it annihilates space and time for the sake of light. Self-control is coördinated energy,—which is the first and last word in ethics and politics, and perhaps in logic and metaphysics too. Weak will means that desires fall out of focus, and taking advantage of the dark steal into action: it is a derangement of the light, a failure of intelligence. In this sense a “good will” means coördination of desires by the ultimate desire, end, ideal; it means health and wholeness of will; it means, literally, integrity. In the old sense “good will” meant, too often, mere fear either of the prohibitions of present law or of the prohibitions stored up in conscience. Such conscience, we all know, is a purely negative and static thing, a convenient substitute for policemen, a degenerate descendant of that conscientia, or knowing-together, which meant to the Romans a discriminating awareness in action,—discriminating awareness of the whole that lurks round the corner of every part. This is one instance of a sort of pathology of words,—words coming to function in a sense alien to their normal intent. Right and wrong, for example, once carried no ethical connotation, but merely denoted a direct or tortuous route to a goal; and significantly the Hebrew word for sin meant, in the days of its health, an arrow that had missed its mark. But, it is urged, there is no such thing as intelligence in the sense of a control of passion by reason, desire by thought. Granted; it is so much easier to admit objections than to refute them! Let intelligence be interpreted as you will, so be it you recognize in it a delayed response, a
- 79. moment of reprieve before execution, giving time for the appearance of new impulses, motives, tendencies, and allowing each element in the situation to fall into its place in a coördinated whole. Let intelligence be a struggle of impulses, a survival of the fittest desire; let us contrast not reason with passion, but response delayed by the rich interplay of motive forces, with response immediately following upon the first-appearing impulse. Let impulse mean for us fruit that falls unripe from the tree, because too weak to hang till it is mature. Let us understand intelligence as not a faculty superadded to impulse, but rather that coördination of impulses which is wrought out by the blows of hard experience. The Socratic ethic fits quite comfortably into this scheme; intelligence is delayed response and morality means, Take your time. It is charged that the Socratic view involves determinism; and this charge, too, is best met with open-armed admission. We need not raise the question of the pragmatic value of the problem. But to suppose that determinism destroys moral responsibility is to betray the mid-Victorian origin of one’s philosophy. Men of insight like Socrates, Plato, and Spinoza, saw without the necessity of argument that moral responsibility is not a matter of freedom of will, but a relation of means to ends, a responsibility of the agent to himself, an intelligent coördination of impulses by one’s ultimate purposes. Any other morality, whatever pretty name it may display, is the emasculated morality of slaves. VIII The Secularization of Morals THE great problem involved in the Socratic ethic lies, apparently, in the bearings of the doctrine on social unity and stability. Apparently; for it is wholesome to remember that social organization, like the Sabbath, was made for man, and not the other way about. If social organization demands of the individual more sacrifices than its advantages are worth to him, then the stability of that organization is not a problem, it is a misfortune. But if the state does not demand such sacrifices, the advantage of the individual will be in social behavior; and the question whether he will behave socially becomes a question of how much intelligence he has, how clear-eyed he is in ferreting out his own advantage. In a state that does not ask more from its members than it gives, morality and intelligence and social behavior will
- 80. not quarrel. The social problem appears here as the twofold problem of, first, making men intelligent, and, second, making social organization so great an advantage to the individual as to insure social behavior in all intelligent men. Which has the better chance of survival:—a society of “good” men or a society of intelligent men? So far as a man is “good” he merely obeys, he does not initiate. A society of “good” men is necessarily stagnant; for in such a society the virtue most in demand, as Emerson puts it, is conformity. If great men emerge through the icy crust of this conformity, they are called criminals and sinners; the lives of great men all remind us that we cannot make our lives sublime and yet be “good.” But intelligence as an ethical ideal is a progressive norm; for it implies the progressive coördination of one’s life in reference to one’s ultimate ideals. The god of the “good” man is the status quo; the intelligent man obeys rather the call of the status ad quem. Observe how the problem of man versus the group is clarified by thus relating the individual to a larger whole determined not by geographical frontiers, but by purposes born of his own needs and moulded by his own intelligence. For as the individual’s intelligence grows, his purposes are brought more and more within the limits of personal capacity and social possibility: he is ever less inclined to make unreasonable demands upon himself, or men in general, or the group in which he lives. His ever broadening vision makes apparent the inherent self-destructiveness of anti- social aims; and though he chooses his ends without reference to any external moral code, those ends are increasingly social. Enlightenment saves his social dispositions from grovelling conformity, and his “self- regarding sentiments” from suicidal narrowness. And now the conflict between himself and his group continues for the most part only in so far as the group makes unreasonable demands upon him. But this, too, diminishes as the individuals constituting or dominating the group become themselves more intelligent, more keenly cognizant of the limits within which the demands of the group upon its members must be restricted if individual allegiance is to be retained. Since the reduction of the conflict between the individual and the community without detriment to the interests of either is the central problem of political ethics, it is obvious that the practical task of ethics is not to formulate a specific moral code, but to bring about a spread of intelligence. And since the reduction of this conflict brings with it a
- 81. better coördination of the members of the group, through their greater ability to perceive the advantages of communal action in an intelligently administered group, the problem of social coherence and permanence itself falls into the same larger problem of intellectual development. “How to make our ideas clear”;—what if that be the social problem? What a wealth of import in that little phrase of Socrates,—τὁ τἱ;—“what is it?” What is my good, my interest? What do I really want?—To find the answer to that, said Robert Louis Stevenson, is to achieve wisdom and old age. What is my country? What is patriotism? “If you wish to converse with me,” said Voltaire, “you must define your terms.” If you wish to be moral, you must define your terms. If our civilization is to keep its head above the flux of time, we must define our terms. For these are the critical days of the secularization of moral sanctions; the theological navel-string binding men to “good behavior” has snapped. What are the leaders of men going to do about it? Will they try again the old gospel of self-sacrifice? But a world fed on self-sacrifice is a world of lies, a world choking with the stench of hypocrisy. To preach self-sacrifice is not to solve, it is precisely to shirk, the problem of ethics,—the problem of eliminating individual self-sacrifice while preserving social stability: the problem of reconciling the individual as such with the individual as citizen. Or will our leaders try to replace superstition with an extended physical compulsion, making the policeman and the prison do all the work of social coördination? But surely compulsion is a last resort; not because it is “wrong,” but because it is inexpedient, because it rather cuts than unties the knot, because it produces too much friction to allow of movement. Compulsion is warranted when there is question of preventing the interference of one individual or group with another; but it is a poor instrument for the establishment or maintenance of ideals. Suppose we stop moralizing, suppose we reduce regimentation, suppose we begin to define our terms. Suppose we let people know quite simply (and not in Academese) that moral codes are born not in heaven but in social needs; and suppose we set about finding a way of spreading intelligence so that individual treachery to real communal interest, and communal exploitation of individual allegiance, may both appear on the surface, as they are at bottom, unintelligently suicidal. Is that too much to hope for? Perhaps. But then again, it may be, the worth and meaning of life lie precisely in this, that there is still a possibility of organizing that experiment.
- 82. IX “Happiness” and “Virtue” A WORD now about the last part of the Socratic formula: intelligence = virtue = happiness. And this a word of warning: remember that the “virtue” here spoken of is not the mediæval virtue taught in Sunday schools. Surely our children must wonder are we fools or liars when we tell them, “Be good and you will be happy.” Better forget “virtue” and read simply: intelligence=happiness. That appears more closely akin to the rough realities of life: intelligence means ability to adapt means to ends, and happiness means success in adapting means to ends; happiness, then, varies with ability. Happiness is intelligence on the move; a pervasive physiological tonus accompanying the forward movement of achievement. It is not the consciousness of virtue: that is not happiness, but snobbery. And similarly, remorse is, in the intelligent man, not the consciousness of “sin,” but the consciousness of a past stupidity. So far as you fail to win your real ends you are unhappy,—and have proved unintelligent. But the Preacher says, “He that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.” True enough if the increment of knowledge is the correction of a past error; the sorrow is a penalty paid for the error, not for the increase of knowledge. True, too, that intelligence does not consistently lessen conflicts, and that it discloses a new want for every want it helps to meet. But the joy of life lies not so much in the disappearance of difficulties as in the overcoming of them; not so much in the diminution of conflict as in the growth of achievement. Surely it is time we had an ethic that stressed achievement rather than quiescence. And further, intelligence must not be thought of as the resignation of disillusionment, the consciousness of impotence; intelligence is to be conceived of in terms of adaptive activity, of movement towards an end, of coördinated self-expression and behavior. Finally, it is but fair to interpret the formula as making happiness and intelligence coincide only so far as the individual’s happiness depends on his own conduct. The causes of unhappiness may be an inherited deformity, or an accident not admitting of provision; such cases do not so much contradict as lie outside the formula. So far as your happiness depends on your activities, it will vary with the degree of intelligence you show. Act intelligently, and you will not know regret; feel that you are moving on toward your larger ends, and you will be happy.
- 83. X The Socratic Challenge BUT if individual and social health and happiness depend on intelligence rather than on “virtue,” and if the exaltation of intelligence was a cardinal element in the Athenian view of life, why did the Socratic ethic fail to save Athens from decay? And why did the supposedly intelligent Athenians hail this generous old Dr. Johnson of philosophy into court and sentence him to death? The answer is, Because the Athenians refused to make the Socratic experiment. They were intelligent, but not intelligent enough. They could diagnose the social malady, could trace it to the decay of supernatural moral norms; but they could not find a cure, they had not the vision to see that salvation lay not in the compulsory retention of old norms, but in the forging of new and better ones, capable of withstanding the shock of questioning and trial. What they saw was chaos; and like most statesmen they longed above all things for order. They were not impressed by Socrates’ allegiance to law, his cordial admission of the individual’s obligations to the community for the advantages of social organization. They listened to the disciples: to Antisthenes, who laughed at patriotism; to Aristippus, who denounced all government; to Plato, scorner of democracy; and they attacked the master because (not to speak of pettier political reasons) it was he, they thought, who was the root of the evil. They could not see that this man was their ally and not their foe; that rescue for Athens lay in helping him rather than in sentencing him to die. And how well they could have helped him! For to preach intelligence is not enough; there remains to provide for every one the instrumentalities of intelligence. What men needed, what Athenian statesmanship might have provided, was an organization of intelligence for intelligence, an organization of all the forces of intelligence in the state in a persistent intellectual campaign. If that could not save Athens, Athens could not be saved. But the myopic leaders of the Athenian state could not see salvation in intelligence, they could only see it in hemlock. And Socrates had to die. It will take a wise courage to accept the Socratic challenge,—such courage as battle-fields and senate-chambers are not wont to show. But unless that wise courage comes to us our civilization will go as other
- 84. civilizations have come and gone, “kindled and put out like a flame in the night.” Note.—From a book whose interesting defence of the Socratic ethic from the standpoint of psychoanalysis was brought to the writer’s attention after the completion of the foregoing essay: “The Freudian ethics is a literal and concrete justification of the Socratic teaching. Truth is the sole moral sanction, and discrimination of hitherto unrealized facts is the one way out of every moral dilemma.... Virtue is wisdom.” Practical morality is “the establishment, through discrimination, of consistent, and not contradictory (mutually suppressive), courses of action toward phenomena. The moral sanction lies always in facts presented by the phenomena; morality in the discrimination of those facts.” Moral development is “the progressive, lifelong integration of experience.”—The Freudian Wish and Its Place in Ethics, by Edwin B. Holt, New York, 1915, pp. 141, 145, 148. CHAPTER II PLATO: PHILOSOPHY AS POLITICS I The Man and the Artist WHY do we love Plato? Perhaps because Plato himself was a lover: lover of comrades, lover of the sweet intoxication of dialectical revelry, full of passion for the elusive reality behind thoughts and things. We love him for his unstinted energy, for the wildly nomadic play of his fancy, for the joy which he found in life in all its unredeemed and adventurous complexity. We love him because he was alive every minute of his life, and never ceased to grow; such a man can be loved even for the errors he has made. But above all we love him because of his high passion for social reconstruction through intelligent control; because he retained throughout his eighty years that zeal for human improvement which is for most of us the passing luxury of youth; because he conceived philosophy as an instrument not merely for the interpretation, but for the remoulding, of the world. He speaks of himself, through Socrates, as “almost the only
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