Negative and Positive Morality
G. K. Chesterton
Illustrated London News (ILN), January 3, 1920
A vast amount of nonsense is talked against negative and destructive things. The silliest sort of progressive complains of negative morality, and compares it unfavorably with positive morality. The silliest sort of conservative complains of destructive reform and compares it unfavorably with constructive reform. Both the progressive and the conservative entirely neglect to consider the very meaning of the words “yes” and “no”. To give the answer “yes” to one question is to imply the answer “no” to another question. To desire the construction of something is to desire the destruction of whatever prevents its construction. This is particularly plain in the fuss about the “negative” morality of the Ten Commandments. The truth is that the curtness of the Commandments is an evidence, not of the gloom and narrowness of a religion but of its liberality and humanity. It is shorter to state the things forbidden than the things permitted precisely because most things are permitted and only a few things are forbidden. An optimist who insisted on a purely positive morality would have to begin by telling a man that he might pick dandelions on a common and go on for months before he came to the fact that he might throw pebbles into the sea. In comparison with this positive morality the Ten Commandments rather shine in that brevity which is the soul of wit.
But of course the fallacy is even more fundamental than this. Negative morality is positive morality, stated in the plainest and therefore the most positive way. If I am told not to murder Mr. Robinson, if I am stopped in the very act of murdering Mr. Robinson, it is obvious that Mr. Robinson is not only spared, but in a sense renewed, and even created. And those who like Mr. Robinson, among them my reactionary romanticism might suggest the inclusion of Mrs. Robinson, will be well aware that they have recovered a living and complex unity. And similarly, those who like European civilisation, and the common code of what used to be called Christendom, will realize that salvation is not negative, but highly positive, and even highly complex. They will rejoice at its escape, long before they have leisure for its examination. But, without examination, they will know that there is a great deal to be examined, and a great deal that is worth examination. Nothing is negative except nothing. It is not our rescue that was negative, but only the nothingness and annihilation from which we were rescued.
On the other side there is the same fallacy about merely destructive reform. It could be applied just as easily to the merely destructive war. In both cases destruction may be essential to the avoidance of destruction, and also to the very possibility of construction. Men are not merely destroying a ship in order to have a shipwreck; they may be merely destroying a tree in order to have a ship. To complain that we spent four years in the Great War in mere destruction is to complain that we spent them in escaping from being destroyed. And it is, once again, to forget the fact that the failure of the murderer means the life of a positive and not a negative Mr. Robinson. If we take the imaginary Mr. Robinson as a type of the average modern man in Western Europe, and study him from head to foot, we shall find defects as well as merits. And in the whole civilisation we have saved, we shall find defects that amounts to diseases. Its feet, if not of clay, are certainly in clay, stuck in the mud of a materialistic industrial destitution and despair. To say it is a positive good and glory to have saved Mr. Robinson from strangling is to miss the whole meaning of human life. It is to forget every good as soon as we have saved it, that is, to lose it as soon as we have got it. Progress of that kind is a hope that is the enemy of faith, and a faith that is the enemy of charity.
When our hopes for the coming time seem disturbed or doubtful, and peace chaotic, let us remember that it is really our disappointment that is an illusion. It is our rescue that is a reality. Our grounds for gratitude are really far greater than our powers of being grateful. It is in the mood of a noble sort of humility, and even a noble sort of fear, that new things are really made. We adorn things most when we love them most. And we love them most when we have nearly lost them.
Negative and Positive Morality
G. K. Chesterton
Illustrated London News (ILN), January 3, 1920
A vast amount of nonsense is talked against negative and destructive things. The silliest sort of progressive complains of negative morality, and compares it unfavorably with positive morality. The silliest sort of conservative complains of destructive reform and compares it unfavorably with constructive reform. Both the progressive and the conservative entirely neglect to consider the very meaning of the words “yes” and “no”. To give the answer “yes” to one question is to imply the answer “no” to another question. To desire the construction of something is to desire the destruction of whatever prevents its construction. This is particularly plain in the fuss about the “negative” morality of the Ten Commandments. The truth is that the curtness of the Commandments is an evidence, not of the gloom and narrowness of a religion but of its liberality and humanity. It is shorter to state the things forbidden than the things permitted precisely because most things are permitted and only a few things are forbidden. An optimist who insisted on a purely positive morality would have to begin by telling a man that he might pick dandelions on a common and go on for months before he came to the fact that he might throw pebbles into the sea. In comparison with this positive morality the Ten Commandments rather shine in that brevity which is the soul of wit.
But of course the fallacy is even more fundamental than this. Negative morality is positive morality, stated in the plainest and therefore the most positive way. If I am told not to murder Mr. Robinson, if I am stopped in the very act of murdering Mr. Robinson, it is obvious that Mr. Robinson is not only spared, but in a sense renewed, and even created. And those who like Mr. Robinson, among them my reactionary romanticism might suggest the inclusion of Mrs. Robinson, will be well aware that they have recovered a living and complex unity. And similarly, those who like European civilisation, and the common code of what used to be called Christendom, will realize that salvation is not negative, but highly positive, and even highly complex. They will rejoice at its escape, long before they have leisure for its examination. But, without examination, they will know that there is a great deal to be examined, and a great deal that is worth examination. Nothing is negative except nothing. It is not our rescue that was negative, but only the nothingness and annihilation from which we were rescued.
On the other side there is the same fallacy about merely destructive reform. It could be applied just as easily to the merely destructive war. In both cases destruction may be essential to the avoidance of destruction, and also to the very possibility of construction. Men are not merely destroying a ship in order to have a shipwreck; they may be merely destroying a tree in order to have a ship. To complain that we spent four years in the Great War in mere destruction is to complain that we spent them in escaping from being destroyed. And it is, once again, to forget the fact that the failure of the murderer means the life of a positive and not a negative Mr. Robinson. If we take the imaginary Mr. Robinson as a type of the average modern man in Western Europe, and study him from head to foot, we shall find defects as well as merits. And in the whole civilisation we have saved, we shall find defects that amounts to diseases. Its feet, if not of clay, are certainly in clay, stuck in the mud of a materialistic industrial destitution and despair. To say it is a positive good and glory to have saved Mr. Robinson from strangling is to miss the whole meaning of human life. It is to forget every good as soon as we have saved it, that is, to lose it as soon as we have got it. Progress of that kind is a hope that is the enemy of faith, and a faith that is the enemy of charity.
When our hopes for the coming time seem disturbed or doubtful, and peace chaotic, let us remember that it is really our disappointment that is an illusion. It is our rescue that is a reality. Our grounds for gratitude are really far greater than our powers of being grateful. It is in the mood of a noble sort of humility, and even a noble sort of fear, that new things are really made. We adorn things most when we love them most. And we love them most when we have nearly lost them.
Moralità Negativa e Positiva
G. K. Chesterton
Illustrated London News (ILN), 3 gennaio 1920
Si dicono enormi quantità di sciocchezze contro le cose negative e distruttive. Il più sciocco tra i progressisti si lamenta della moralità negativa, e la paragona sfavorevolmente alla moralità positiva. Il più sciocco tra i conservatori si lamenta della riforma distruttiva, e la paragona sfavorevolmente alla riforma costruttiva. Sia il progressista sia il conservatore trascurano del tutto di considerare il vero significato delle parole «sì» e «no». Dare la risposta «sì» a una domanda significa implicare la risposta «no» a un’altra domanda. Desiderare la costruzione di qualcosa significa desiderare la distruzione di tutto ciò che ne impedisce la costruzione. Questo è particolarmente evidente nel gran chiasso che si fa intorno alla moralità «negativa» dei Dieci Comandamenti. La verità è che la concisione dei Comandamenti è una prova non della cupezza e della ristrettezza di una religione, ma della sua liberalità e umanità. È più breve enunciare le cose vietate che le cose permesse, proprio perché la maggior parte delle cose è permessa e solo poche sono vietate. Un ottimista che insistesse su una moralità puramente positiva dovrebbe cominciare col dire a un uomo che gli è lecito cogliere denti di leone su un prato comune, e proseguire per mesi prima di arrivare al fatto che gli è lecito gettare ciottoli nel mare. Al confronto di questa moralità positiva, i Dieci Comandamenti rifulgono anzi per quella brevità che è l’anima dell’arguzia.
Ma naturalmente l’errore è ancora più fondamentale di così. La moralità negativa è moralità positiva, enunciata nel modo più schietto e perciò più positivo. Se mi si ordina di non assassinare il signor Robinson, se vengo fermato nell’atto stesso di assassinare il signor Robinson, è ovvio che il signor Robinson non solo è risparmiato, ma in un certo senso è rinnovato, e persino creato. E coloro che hanno a cuore il signor Robinson — tra i quali il mio romanticismo reazionario potrebbe suggerire di includere anche la signora Robinson — saranno bene consapevoli di aver recuperato una unità viva e complessa. E parimenti coloro che hanno a cuore la civiltà europea, e il comune codice di ciò che si soleva chiamare Cristianità, si renderanno conto che la salvezza non è negativa, ma altamente positiva, e persino altamente complessa. Gioiranno per il suo scampato pericolo assai prima di aver agio di esaminarla. Ma, pur senza esaminarla, sapranno che c’è molto da esaminare, e molto che è degno di esame. Nulla è negativo, tranne il nulla. Non è stato il nostro salvataggio a essere negativo, ma soltanto il nulla e l’annientamento da cui siamo stati salvati.
Dall’altra parte c’è lo stesso errore riguardo alla riforma meramente distruttiva. Lo si potrebbe applicare con altrettanta facilità alla guerra meramente distruttiva. In entrambi i casi la distruzione può essere essenziale per evitare la distruzione, e anche per la stessa possibilità di costruzione. Gli uomini non distruggono una nave solo per avere un naufragio; possono distruggere un albero solo per avere una nave. Lamentarsi di aver passato quattro anni nella Grande Guerra in mera distruzione equivale a lamentarsi di averli passati a sfuggire alla distruzione. Ed è, ancora una volta, dimenticare il fatto che il fallimento dell’assassino significa la vita di un signor Robinson positivo e non negativo. Se prendiamo l’immaginario signor Robinson come tipo dell’uomo medio moderno dell’Europa occidentale, e lo studiamo dalla testa ai piedi, vi troveremo difetti oltre che pregi. E nell’intera civiltà che abbiamo salvato troveremo difetti che equivalgono a malattie. I suoi piedi, se non d’argilla, sono certamente nell’argilla, conficcati nel fango di una miseria industriale materialistica e di disperazione. Dire che è un bene e una gloria positivi aver salvato il signor Robinson dallo strangolamento significa mancare l’intero significato della vita umana. Significa dimenticare ogni bene non appena l’abbiamo salvato, cioè perderlo non appena l’abbiamo ottenuto. Un progresso di tal fatta è una speranza nemica della fede, e una fede nemica della carità.
Quando le nostre speranze per il tempo che viene appaiono turbate o incerte, e la pace caotica, ricordiamoci che è in realtà la nostra delusione a essere un’illusione. È il nostro salvataggio a essere una realtà. I nostri motivi di gratitudine sono in realtà assai maggiori delle nostre facoltà di essere grati. È nello stato d’animo di una nobile umiltà, e persino di un nobile timore, che le cose nuove vengono davvero fatte. Adorniamo le cose al massimo quando le amiamo al massimo. E le amiamo al massimo quando le abbiamo quasi perdute.