Herman Bavinck · 11 of 12

Lecture 10. Revelation and the Future · Part 2

Socialism does not stand alone in these utopian expectations. It has had its predecessors in Plato and Thomas More, in Campanella and Morelly, St. Simon and Fourier, Proudhon and Comte, and in many other theologians and philosophers, in many religious sects and political parties. Humanity as a whole has always lived, and still lives, in hope, notwithstanding all empiricism and realism. Men paint the future state in very different colors; and according to the different conceptions each one has of the highest good, represent that future state as a kingdom of morality (Kant), or humanity (Herder), as a kingdom of liberty, in which spirit fully penetrates nature (Hegel), or as a Johannine church, which will at the end replace the church of Peter and Paul (Schelling); as a world in which ideal or material possessions are the chief enjoyment. But such a future is expected by every one; all religion, all philosophy, and all views of life and the world issue in an eschatology. And not only so, but all systems have in common that they finish the world’s history with to-day, and hereaf ter expect only a world era wherein the hope and the dream of humanity will be realized; all eschatology which lives in the heart includes the belief in a speedy parousia.

This ineradicable hope of humanity is full of potent charm. And if to-day it springs up with new strength, shuns no exertion, esteems all opposition conquerable, and strives to introduce the new era for humanity by all kinds of reformation, it compels respect and stimulates to activity. When Ludwig Stein preaches a social optimism, which wages war on all Nirvana-philosophy and turns its back on all conservatives and pessimists; when Metschnikoff proclaims in the name of science the coming day of the abolition of all sickness, the lengthening of human life to a good old age, and the reduction of death to a gentle, painless fading away; when Stanley Hall tells us that the world is not old, but young, that the twilight in which we live is not that of the evening but of the morning, that the soul is still always becoming, and is capable of a much higher development; when James declares that the world is, or becomes, that which we make it: when all these men appeal to our responsibility, to our consciousness of duty, to our power and energy, then our hope is rekindled, our courage is raised, and we are stimulated to go forward immediately without further hesitation.

Nevertheless it should be observed that while this optimistic activity seems to depend only on man, and to feel not the least need of divine help, yet on the other hand it breaks through the circle of immanent thought and action, mounts to transcendency, and seeks strength and security in metaphysics. The doctrine that man is corrupted by sin and cannot sanctify and save himself by his own strength is commonly accounted the most fearful of all errors; autonomy and autosotery reject all heterosotery. But at the same moment when all transcendency and metaphysics are denied, the human being is exalted above his usual state and is identified with the divine. The superhuman task of transforming present society into a state of peace and joy requires more than ordinary human power; if God himself does not work the change, hope can be cherished only when human power is divinized. This is in fact the intimate idea of that philosophical theory which Strauss has most clearly formulated, that the infinite is not realized in a single man, but only in humanity; humanity being the true unity of divine and human natures, the man becoming God, the infinite spirit descending to finiteness, the child of the visible mother nature, and of the invisible father spirit, the doer of miracles, the saviour of the world. What humanity confesses concerning Christ, and pronounces in its idea of divinity, is merely a symbol of what it finds in itself, and what it is. Theology is mainly anthropology; the worship of God is humanity adoring itself. Comte, therefore, was quite consistent when he substituted the worship of humanity for the worship of God.

This deification of man proves clearly that no eschatology is possible without metaphysics. But this is shown still more clearly by another fact. Culture, ethics, idealism, all striving after a goal, must always seek alliance with metaphysics. Kant reversed the relation between them, and tried to make morals entirely independent of science; but on those morals he again built up practical faith in a divine providence. In the same way, any ethical system which aspires to be true ethics and to bear a normative and teleological character, not failing into merely a description of habits and customs, is forced to seek the support of metaphysics. If man has to strive after an ideal, he can gain courage only by the faith that this ideal is the ideal of the world and is based on true reality. By banishing metaphysics, materialism has no longer an ethical system, knows no longer the distinction between good and evil, possesses no moral law, no duty, no virtue, and no highest good. And when the immanent humanistic philosophy of Natorp, Cohen, and others endeavors to base ethics exclusively on the categorical imperative, it loses all security that the “ought” will one day triumph over the “is,” and the good over the bad. Whatever one believes to be the highest good, this highest good is either an imagination, or it is and must be also the highest, true being, the essence of reality, the meaning and destiny of the world, and thus also the bond which holds all men and nations together in every part of the world and saves them from anarchy. The Christian finds his assurance of the triumph of good in his confession of God’s sovereign and almighty will, which, though distinct from the world and exalted above it, still accomplishes through it its holy purpose, and, in accordance with this purpose, leads humanity and the world to salvation. But he who rejects this confession does not therefore escape from metaphysics. It sounds well to call man the rebel in nature, who, when it says “Die!” answers, “I will live.” But with all his wisdom and strength man is powerless against that nature in the end, unless it be subject to a will which maintains man in his superiority above it. That is the reason why, even when theism is denied, the true reality, the world-will which is hidden behind phenomena and very imperfectly manifested, is nevertheless always thought of as analogous to that of man, and especally as an ethically good will. Notwithstanding all his self-confidence and self-glorification, man is, in every possible world-view, incorporated in a larger whole, and is explained and confirmed by that totality. Metaphysics, that is the belief in the absolute as a holy power, always forms the foundation of ethics. In our days evolution takes the place of such metaphysics.

The modern man derives his faith and animation, his activity and his optimism, from the idea of evolution, which according to his belief governs the whole world. If he endeavors restlessly to establish a holy and happy kingdom of humanity on earth, and stands firm in his belief in its realization notwithstanding all diiticulties and disappointments, this can he explained only in one way,—that he feels himself borne on by the true reality, which is hidden behind the oftentimes very sad phenomena. Striving and laboring to attain his ideal, he believes himself in harmony with the innermost motive-power of the world, with the mysterious course of nature. To work, to endeavor, to strive, to become, is the deepest meaning of the world, the heart and the kernel of true reality. The doctrine of evolution thus takes the place of the old religion in the modern man. It is no science; it does not rest on undeniable facts; it has often in the past and in the present ‘been contradicted by the facts. But that does not matter; miracle is the dearest child of faith. All change in the world, as if it were nothing, is identified with development, development with progress, progress with material welfare or ethical culture, with liberty or morality. Although monism in its different forms denies that the absolute power which rules the world has personality, consciousness and will, yet it always speaks of this power as if it were a person. Consciousness, instinct, will, labor, endeavor, development, aim, and holiness are unintentionally ascribed to it; it is even identified with absolute divine love in a naive way, which is in direct antagonism to the scientific pretensions of the speakers. And love is then called “the original of all social forces, the creator and reconciler of all; the only true God is love.” Just as the pagan treats his idol, so modern man acts with the idea of evolution.

The superstitious character, which is more and more taken on by this idea, is clearly seen in the contents of the optimistic expectations which are cherished concerning the future of the human race. . For these expectations involve nothing less than that human nature in the future, either slowly by gradual development, or suddenly by leaps of mutation, will undergo radical change. In the future state there will he no longer any sickness or crime, no envy or malice, no enmity or war, no courts of justice and no police, but contentment and peace will be the portion of all. Now it is possible to say that sin and crime are owing to circumstances alone, and thus will disappear with the reformation of the environment. But this is nevertheless such a superficial judgment that no refutation of it is necessary. Every man knows by experience that sin is rooted in his own heart. If there ever is to be a humanity without sin and crime, holy and blessed, then it must be preceded by a radical change in human nature. But such a change is not too great for the expectation of the optimists, for they are assured of it by evolution. Man has advanced so much in the past that we may cherish the best hope for the future. He was an animal, and became a man,—why should he not become an angel in the future? As by immanent forces alone life has proceeded from the lifeless, consciousness from the unconscious, intelligence from the association of representations, will from feeling, spirit from matter, good from evil, what should hinder man from conquering in course of time all sin, putting an end to all misery, and establishing “the kingdom of man” on earth once for all, the more because he himself by exertion can lead and promote the evolutionary process? Thus the idea of an Uebermensch is intimately connected with the idea of evolution. Darwin himself believed in it, and comforted himself for the suffering of this present time with the hope that man in the far future would become a much more perfect creature than he is now; and the optimistic evolutionists join in this expectation: man is still in the making, he is still at the beginning of his development,—a rich, beautiful future lies before him.

But although this future may speedily appear, it is not in existence yet, and it is not likely that it will dawn in the days of the present generation. What profit all these expectations for the men who now live, and each day draw nearer to their end? Socialism scoffs at the Christian faith, which promises a bill of exchange on eternity; but eternity is after all more worthy of our trust than an insecure, doubtful, and distant future. So the doctrine of evolution has found itself suddenly confronted with the question, what significance the eschatological expectations have for the individual. In the materialistic period, which lies behind us, it had for this serious question only a contemptuous smile. But the belief in a future kingdom of humanity is always confronted by the problem of personal immortality. And the doctrine of evolution assumes now in its new idealistic form quite a different bearing towards this problem. Why should it be impossible to introduce this immortality into its system? If man in the long process of his development has raised himself by his intelligence high above the animal, probably he can make himself immortal by continual development. Of course it is improbable that all men who have already lived and borne that name have reached such immortality, for the transition from animal to man has been very gradual; and it is also possible, as the adherents of conditional immortality assure us, that even now and in the future not all men will be able to advance so far, but only they who ethically work out their own self-perfecting. But in itself there is no reason why man by his own development should not become immortal.

Death certainly cannot be thought of as a catastrophe, as a punishment of sin, as a judgment which is executed upon man. It is simply a normal phenomenon, a gradual transition, such as often takes place in the organic world. The egg becomes a chick, the caterpillar becomes a butterfly; and so man advances, as at birth so at death, into another form of existence; he changes his clothing,—he lays aside the coarse, material body, and continues his life in a finer, ethereal body. So Darwinism successively brings .us into company with Swedenborg and Jang Stilling, Davis and Kardec, Madame Blavatsky and Mrs. Annie Besant, Mrs. Eddy and Elijah Dowie, with all the theosophists and spiritualists of recent times. And it is not to be wondered at that many adherents of the evolutionary doctrine are at the same time advocates of spiritualism. For all these tendencies are produced by the same root idea: they are all strongly opposed to the Christian doctrine of creation and fall, of hereditary sin and ethical impotence, of redemption by Christ and salvation by grace; and they declare instead that all is eternally becoming, that in an absolute sense there is no coming into existence and no dissolution, but only a change in the form of existence. This leads to the consequence that, as Haeckel has equipped substance, ether, and atoms with spirit, soul, conscience, and will, so men have truly existed eternally; and it is no wonder that pre-existenceism has again gained many adherents to-day.

But although there may be difference of opinion on this point, human development is a part of the great evolutionary process and is bound to fixed laws. Man is what he does, and perhaps already has done, in preceding states of existence; all that happens to a man upon earth, his external as well as his internal condition is a strict consequence of his behavior and actions. There is place only for merits, for the law of reward of man’s works; there is no grace or forgiveness in the course of nature. The ethical law is the same as the natural law; everywhere karrna reigns,—the law of inevitable consequences. Therefore there exist also differences among men, not in origin and disposition, by divine ordinance, but by the use or misuse which they make of their gifts. Men do not run with equal ardor; they do not exert themselves with the same vigor. There are sarcical, psychical, and pneumatic men; and according to their work in their earthly existence they continue their life after death. Death is no death, but life,—a form of transition to a higher existence. The deceased do not even know that they have died; they keep a body, they see and hear, think and speak, consider and act, just as they did here upon earth. Perhaps they continue their intercourse for a shorter or longer time with men on earth, as spiritualism teaches; or they return in another body to the earth, as theosophy assumes; or they continue their purification in some other way.

But whatever evolution thinks about the future, it affords no rest for the mind and none for the heart, because it takes away from us the Lord of the world. If there is no being, but only becoming, then there is no final state, either on this side of death for humanity, or on the other side for the individual man. The doctrine of evolution is even mortally wounded by this eternal process, because the idea of a never-ending development means a process without aim, and thus no longer a development. For every state exists only to make way for another; as soon as the kingdom of man came into existence it would pass away, and this the more because, according to the testimony of science, the present world and the present humanity cannot last eternally. If there is no omnipotent and holy God who exists above the world, and is for it the goal and resting-place of its strife, then there is no final end, no completion of the process of the world, and no rest for the human heart. It is then an empty sound even to speak with Höfding and Münsterberg of the eternal preservation of values, for all value disappears with personality; or to take refuge in a mysterious Buddhistic Nirvana, as is proposed by Schopenhauer and von Hartmann, wherein all life, consciousness, and will sink into an eternal, hypnotised condition.

From the standpoint of evolution there is place only for an eternal return, as was already assumed in Greek philosophy by Heraclitus and the Stoics, and in these later days has been advocated even by Nietzsche. Nietzsche was first a pessimist, pupil of Schopenhauer and Wagner; later he became a positivist, and, rejecting all metaphysics, took his standpoint in reality as the one true world; still later he combined with this the doctrine of the Wille zur Mackt; the real world became for him an ocean of powers, which is not, but eternally becomes, which has no origin and aim, but continually rises and falls, appears and disappears. Although he draws from this creative energy of the Wille zur Macht the belief in the appearance of the Uebermensch, and takes this as the aim of the process of the world, yet it is self-evident that this belief is in direct opposition to his positivism, as well as to his doctrine of the eternal return. The Uebermensch is not only a pure product of his imagination, but can only be a transition form in the process of the world. An optimism which is exclusively built on evolution is always transmuted into pessimism if one ponders a little more deeply.

This is apparent also in the so-called meliorism of James. If pragmatism is opposed to idealism, and takes its standpoint in the empirical world, it cannot attain to an eschatology. One may with Comte require from science that it give us the power to look forward and predict the future; but Ostwald rightly says that our knowledge of the commencement and end of the world is null, for the world is so enormously great, and human society so complicated, that nobody can calculate with any certainty how they will develop in the future. Every one who holds strictly to experience must protest against a metaphysics of evolution which speaks of an infallible and eternal progress. All this belongs to the province of faith, and is not able to withstand a logical and ethical criticism. On the ground of empirical reality we can only resign ourselves to ignorance; we know not what the future may bring, or how humanity will be developed. The only thing we have to do is to fulfil our duty. We cannot stop the process,but we may perhaps bend and guide it a little. Let us take the world as it is, and make the best of it. Perhaps the future will be better than we think.

This meliorism certainly does not bear witness to strong faith and great courage. It has to all intents abandoned the whole world to pessimism, and maintains itself only by holding fast to duty. But this isolation of the categorical imperative from the totality of life, in which it is presented to us in man and humanity, has in no small measure contributed to the appearance and spreading of a pessimistic feeling in the nineteenth century; the system of Schopenhauer depends closely on Kant’s criticism. If the essence of things is unknowable, the misery of man cannot be fathomed. For metaphysical need is born in all of us, and the thirst after the knowledge of the absolute cannot be uprooted from the heart. Our condition would be more tolerable if religion did not consist in fellowship with God, or if that fellowship could be realized and enjoyed without consciousness. But what we do not know, we have not, and we love not. The special needs of our time are therefore caused by agnosticism. Trust is undermined not only in science, but also and principally in ourselves, in the witness of our self-consciousness, in the value of our religious and ethical perceptions, in the power of our intelligence and reason. Doubt is awakened in all hearts, and the uncertainty causes our convictions to sway hither and thither; we are moved by every wind of doctrine, and weakened in our will by the yeas and nays which resound on all sides.

Nobody can predict how the human race will overcome this disease. Philosophy, which has revived in late years, assuredly is not fitted for the task. For it is itself infected in a great measure by the disease; it is uncertain in its starting point, is in doubt concerning its own task and aim, and is divided into all kinds of schools and systems. There is no question of a steady progress in its history; it has, especially in the period of Kant, broken more down than it has built up, and its defenders not infrequently give utterance to the opinion that the advantage which it has produced consists solely in the enlightening of insight into the essence of human knowledge, and that aside from this it is mostly a history of instructive and important human errors.

The ethical autonomy also, which formed for Kant the basis of his metaphysics, offers in its isolation no sufficient security. For if the whole world is ascribed to the operation of a blind process, it cannot be understood how consciousness of duty could obtain a firm foothold in this stream of becoming. Evolution, which is everywhere else recognized, does not respect this apparent immutability, but penetrates into the essence of the moral man, analyzes his views, shows the sources from which his opinions are drawn, and shrugs its shoulders over the eternity of moral duty and moral laws. But apart from this serious objection, moral autonomy may uplift and animate man for a short time; it may fill him with admiration, as does also the starry sky above his head; and in days of self-confidence it may stimulate him to restless eflort, but it can give him no comfort in hours of repentance and bitter agony. It is good for the Pharisee, who knows no other law than reward for service, but it is pitilessly hard for the publican and sinner, who need God’s grace. And such poor sinners are we all, each in his turn. The strongest among men have times in which they feel miserable, and as desolate as the prodigal son. The “healthy-minded men” are not separated from “the morbid-minded” as a special aristocratic class, but often themselves pass over into their opposites; optimism and pessimism alternate in every man’s life. Fichte, the philosopher, affords us a striking illustration of this. In the first period of his philosophic thought he felt no need of God, and was content with the moral world-order: in the beginning of things there was not being, but doing; not the word, but the deed; the non-ego was nothing but the material of duty, and the fulfilment of this duty the highest blessedness. But later, when serious experiences had enriched his life and thought, he returned from doing to being, from duty to love, from striving to rest, from morality to religion. The more deeply we live, the more we feel in sympathy with Augustine, and the less with Pelagius. Knowledge of law awakens the need for grace.

Present-day culture ofiers still less security for a glad hope. There are still many who are enthusiastic about science, and anticipate from its technical applications the salvation of humanity. The cries of science, progress, and liberty are continually heard on the lips of free-thinkers. But the hollowness of the sound reveals itself to any keenly listening ear. Culture brings with;it its blessings, but also its dark shadows and serious dangers; it develops attributes and powers in men which are highly valuable, but it does this almost always at the cost of other virtues which are not of less value; while it promotes reflection, sagacity, activity, and strenuous striving, it suppresses the unbiassed opinion, the childlike naivetè, the simplicity and the guilelessness, which often belong to the natural life. Intellectual development is in itself no moral good, as rationalism has dreamed ever since Socrates’ day, but may be used equally well for evil as for good; it can be serviceable to love, but it may also become a dangerous instrument in the hands of hate; not only the virtuous, but also the criminal, profit by it. What da Costa said of the invention of printing, that it was a gigantic step to heaven and to hell, may be applied to all scientific and technical elements of culture.

We are indeed witnesses in our own developed society that sin and crime increase frightfully, not only in the lowest ranks of population, but quite as much in high aristocratic circles. Unbelief and superstition in all forms; adultery, unchastity, and unnatural sins, voluptuousness and excess, avarice, theft, and murder, jealousy, envy, and hatred, play no less a part in the life of cultured humanity than among the lower races. Art and literature are not infrequently handmaids to all these sins, and the plays, which in such centres of civilization as Paris and Berlin are given before the èlite, seriously raise inquiries whither we are bound with all our civilization. And at the same time with these iniquities the cleft becomes wider between religion and culture, between morality and civilization, between science and life, between the various classes and ranks of society. Legislation is almost powerlesshere; internal corruption, moral degeneration, and religious decay cannot be removed by a law of the state; on the contrary, every law has to reckon with the egoism and the passion of men, if it does not wish to be doomed to complete impotence; if law does not find support in conscience, it does not touch life. Besides this, legislation is put more and more into the hands of the people, so that it is not seldom made the servant of party interests. Complaints about the shady side of parliamentary government increase in all lands; the state, which is above all, and has to further the interests of all, tends to become a ball in the strife of parties, and a powerful means by which the majority tries to suppress the minority. The benefit of liberty itself, in religious, social, and political domains, comes very seriously into question in many countries, such as France.

There is even reason for the question, whether the theory of evolution does not promote in a high degree this continual triumph of the power of the strongest. For though it believes in progress in this sense, that the material gives birth to the spiritual in the way of gradual development, it also teaches that in the struggle for life the unfit perish, and only the fittest survive. Therefore opinions greatly differ on the relation between Darwinism and socialism; according to Virchow, Loria, Ferri, and others, Darwinism is serviceable to socialism, but Haeckel, O. Schmidt, Ammon, H. E. Ziegler, and H. Spencer maintain, on the contrary, that the principle of selection bears an aristocratic character. In any case, we are witnesses to this remarkable fact, that a social aristocracy is raised against a social democracy; the Herrenmoral of Nietzsche is also defended on economical grounds; capitalism is deeply despised and fanatically opposed, but it gains also strong support and passionate defence; and art in late years very seriously protests against social levelling, and makes a strong plea for riches and luxury, for the genius and aristocracy of the mind; it is highly normal, it is said, that the many should live for the few and the few live at the cost of the many.

The same fact also presents itself internationally in the mutual relations of the nations. The cosmopolitanism of the “Enlightenment” was not only exchanged in the nineteenth century for patriotism, but this patriotism was not infrequently developed into an exaggerated, dangerous, and belligerent chauvinism, which exalts its own people at the cost of other nations. In its turn this chauvinism was fed and strengthened by the revival of the race-consciousness which in Gobineau and H. St. Chamberlain found its scientific defenders. Not only in the different parts of the earth, but also often among the same people, and in the same land, races are sharply opposed to each other, striving after the chief power in the state, and supremacy in the kingdom of the mind. This race-glorification acquires such a serious character, and so far exceeds all bounds, that the virtues of the race are identified with the highest ideal. Deutschtum, for example, is placed on a level with Christendom, and Jesus is considered as an Aryan in race.

Economical interests besides sharpen the competition between the nations. Though this competition still bears outwardly a peaceful character, it widens the gulf between the nations, feeds egoism, stimulates the passions, and may on the smallest occasion break out into a war which would surpass all previous wars in devastation. From a kingdom of peace, which shall embrace all nations, we are farther away than ever. Many men have, indeed, dreamed sweet dreams of such a peace, or at least of a palace of peace and international arbitration; but they have been sadly undeceived, and forced into fresh reflection by the sudden apparition of Japan. Just as many in the state are returning to monarchy and despotism, and wish again to accord the first place in society to aristocracy and capitalism, so others in international relations defend the arming of nations, the conflict of races, and sanguinary war. The effacement of all differences between the nations is not, according to their opinion, the highest aim to be striven after. An amalgamated humanity would cause, without doubt, an impoverisheel civilization and a weakening of human life. Of course race-hatred and contempt for foreigners are not approved on this account; but it is said that strong nations, just like strong individuals, will respect most the rights of others and will be most merciful to their defects. And though this diversity between nations and races may now and then cause a war, history proves that such a war has been a source of strength and welfare for many peoples, and for humanity as a whole. War is, according to Moltke, an element of the world-order, as it is established by God, in which the noblest virtues of men are developed, such as courage and self-denial, faithfulness to duty, and self-sacrifice; without war the world would become a morass, and would sink into materialism.