*Past, Present, and Futurity*

Mill's Religion of Humanity as Critical Method

a senior essay in the political science major

Peter Steinberg

20 April 1992

Political Science 299b

Mill & Liberalism

Professor Joseph Hamburger

Senior Essay - Final Draft



Over the course of history, the term "religion" has carried a wide
variety of connotations. For a fundamentalist, religion is the primary
source of truth and enlightenment, and the only source of morality in
general. But for a natural scientist, religion is a delusion whose modes
of inquiry are methodologically unsound, precluding it from making
meaningful truth claims. Taking a different approach altogether, the
sociologist sees religion as playing several important functions in
human societies, whatever its truth value. On one hand it is an
individual expression of belief in a higher power that creates and
guides the universe, which engenders a corresponding approach to
theological enquiry. On the other hand it refers to the system of social
institutions---the creeds, prayers, and rituals---which shape social
life by regulating individual behavior. These three are perhaps the more
widely-held, and ultimately stereotypical, views of religion in our
century, a most secularized era. The nineteenth century, however, could
not maintain any such objective stance about the role of religion in
society.

John Stuart Mill's writings reveal that the English of his day were
deeply attached to what they considered to be *the* cornerstone of
religious belief---faith. Faith distinguishes religion from other forms
of obedience and other modes of inquiry. One might imagine a social
system founded upon the fear of a dictator, or structured according to
scientific discoveries about human nature. A true believer in religion,
however, holds human intellectual and scientific endeavors as inherently
flawed, compared to the works of the Being that created the world. To
such a person, God is good, and God created the world, ergo, the world
in all of its manifestations is good. But such a view can only lead to
contradictory opinions. Thus, to live in a capricious universe where
"bad" events are commonplace, a believer can maintain a coherent sense
of reality only by what many have called a "leap of faith." That is, he
or she accepts all events as partaking of a higher truth, or tending
toward a final goal, implicit in the creeds of religious tradition but
ultimately mysterious to human beings. Thus, a person who subscribes to
religious faith tends to reject scientific modes of thought, or at least
seeks to limit their domain. Instead, he or she sees the truths of
religion as epistemologically *and* ontologically real, fearing that any
attempt to question them might bring an equally real sense of
uncertainty into an already precarious existence.

Mill was not a religious man, in the manner we have just associated with
the adjective. His father, James Mill, was a renowned atheist, rejecting
religion and its "factitious excellencies."[^1] Traditional religion's
creeds, devotionals, ceremonies, and outward shows of faith were, to
him, merely substitutes for true religious feeling, and entirely
unconnected with human virtue. Moreover, he was repulsed by
Christianity's praise of a God whom he saw depicted as never anything
less than hateful. Still, although unwilling to give blind faith to a
deity whose existence could not be adequately demonstrated, the elder
Mill equally refused to assert publicly the non-existence of a Divine
maker of the universe. Public opinion against atheism was strong in
early nineteenth century England, and even the most powerful and
outspoken minds, like James Mill, were often forced to mediate their
opinions to avoid the threat of "religious" persecution.

Accordingly, the young John Stuart Mill "was brought up from the first
without any religious belief, in the ordinary acceptation of the
term."[^2] His father engendered an attitude in his son which is most
aptly labelled "negative," referring less to an active denial of a
specific creed, than to a refusal to adopt the religious way of thinking
into his mental development. Mill saw himself as "one of the very few
examples, in this county, of one who has, not thrown off religious
belief, but never had it."[^3] His father's ethical ideals rejected
traditional religion to draw upon classical models of moral behavior
which made no reference to divine sanctions or punishments. Thus, Mill
grew up free of the fear of God prevalent in the Victorian education.
James perceived that the real danger to the child's developing mind was
the same force of public opinion that had so influenced his father. So
he sheltered his son from most of the outside world, in order not to
force his son into hypocritically denying his lack of religious faith.
This refusal to champion his atheism actively in the public realm
clearly made an impression on his son, who saw how religious orthodoxy,
if accepted unquestioningly, will stifle even the most free-thinking and
opinionated of men.

In these formative experiences, as presented in Mill's *Autobiography*,
we see Mill's concern with individual liberty set against his growing
awareness of, and reverence for, the power of religion to shape the mind
of a community. Though the younger Mill rejected religion altogether,
his intellectual maturity brought about deep convictions concerning the
need for radical reforms in society itself. These fell under two broad
categories: political and cultural. *On Liberty* represented the
culmination of Mill's political prescriptions, demanding a
depoliticization of an individuals "self-regarding" actions. Still,
interspersed with the generally negative arguments in favor of
individual liberty can be found intimations of more positive reforms,
those which would actually alter people's personal "dispositions." These
arguments might seem out of place in a tract on personal liberty. But
they are not, if we realize that liberty was far from being the main
item on Mill's agenda. In fact, Mill seems to see liberty as a step on
the way to a more comprehensive vision of a society of the future. Such
a society, instead of rejecting religion, would make some sort of
religious belief the precondition of societal union. Liberty and
religion, then, are not necessarily opposed for Mill; the first is at
the very least a necessary condition to the reform of the second.

These "religious" or cultural reforms begin with what Mill came to see
as the cornerstone of social union, the interpretation of history. One
should see Mill's later works, those written from around 1850 until his
death, as an attempt to give concrete form to the changes in attitude
reflected in his *Logic* and the pair of essays "Bentham" and
"Coleridge." In these works, he expresses a dissatisfaction with the
trend, visible in his youth, to subsume all human progress to the
forward march of the sciences. The great influence of Bentham upon
Mill's father and his contemporaries made it seem as if all of life
could be ameliorated by the application of strict utilitarian
methodology to political institutions. Mill's mental crisis at the age
of 26 gave the lie to such presumption, however. Human conduct, he
realized, displays its greatest dignity in the cultivation of its
feelings, even if the benefits conferred are more elusive and less
tangible than the "pleasures" normally associated with utilitarian
theory. Thus, in his later works, we see Mill making arguments for a
conception of history which would comprehend progress in the realm of
human feeling and opinion.

Such a conception made itself manifest in the "Religion of Humanity,"
which extended the new historical method to a robust form of cultural
criticism and social prescription. Mill borrowed the term from the work
of French Positivist Auguste Comte, but transformed its content into
something quite different. Where Comte's religion was a complete
doctrine with a detailed creed and exhaustive sets of rituals, Mill's
version was less a *system* than it was a *method*. By "method" I mean
that Mill had created a collection of critical techniques which would
allow men to discern the truth or falsity of existing social theories
without being forced to postulate specific ends for society. Mill put it
best himself in the *Autobiography* when describing the emergence from
his youthful beliefs. What was once an urge to systematize all areas of
human life had given way to

> only a conviction, that the true system was something much more
> complex and many sided than I had previously had any idea of, and that
> its office was to supply, not a set of model institutions, but
> principles from which the institutions suitable to any given
> circumstance might be deduced.[^4]

Instead of creating a whole new way of life, Mill's project has two
separate but related aims. First, it seeks to establish the minimal
conditions according to which a rational formation of new ways of life
in general must proceed I shall refer to this as the "negative project."
Secondly, he uses this new methodology to justify his own proposals for
transforming society from the bottom up. This is the "positive project,"
incorporating the altruistic "social feelings" of mankind into a new
type of religion which replaces divine pressures with those of social
opinion and history. This twofold method of understanding, critiquing,
and changing social life informed all of Mill's later works, from the
*Three Essays on Religion*, *Utilitarianism*, and *Auguste Comte and
Positivism* to even *The Subjection of Women*. The point of this essay
is to isolate the interrelated conceptual strands which run through
Mill's oeuvre in order to come to an understanding of the complex of
ideas which define the Religion of Humanity.

\* \* \* \* \* \*

Mill's mental crisis of 1826 display the first symptoms of his changing
opinions. Up to that point, his upbringing had been based on strict
Benthamite dogma. Its emphasis on political, legal, and social reform so
shaped his consciousness that all of his conceptions of personal
happiness were "entirely identified with this object."[^5] But then came
the day when he asked himself "'Suppose that all your objects in life
were realized; that all the changes in institutions and opinions which
you are looking forward to, could be completely effected at this very
instant; would this be a great joy and happiness to you?"[^6] His
answer, a profound "No!," sent him into a deep depression, lasting
several months. The repercussions of this fundamental negation of his
past persisted in his written works long after the initial malaise
lifted.

His main complaint concerning his upbringing was with the emphasis on
mental cultivation without a corresponding cultivation of his emotional
faculties. He began to see how "the habit of analysis has a tendency to
wear away the feelings: as indeed it has when no other mental habit is
cultivated., and the analyzing spirit remains without its natural
complements and correctives."[^7] Adept at the skills bestowed upon him
by his father, but lacking an internal conception of personal ends, he
felt like "a well equipped ship with no rudder." Such ends, he realized,
could only be supplied by convictions and beliefs. Analysis was
incapable of ascertaining the reason for its incessant activity. Thus,
he began to see the "maintenance of a due balance among the faculties"
as a matter of "primary importance."[^8]

Bentham's great importance in Mill's thought before his crisis stemmed
from his deep understanding of human nature, which had given him the
tools to fashion the most effective reforms in government and law.
Mill's burgeoning interest after the crisis, however, engendered a
corresponding reappraisal of Bentham's anthropology. Coleridge's
doctrine of half-truths held errors to be "truths misunderstood" or even
"half truths taken as the whole." These half-truths were not in
themselves dangerous to mental progress, but, if taken for the whole of
truth, became "not the less, but the more dangerous on that
account."[^9] In the same way as his upbringing had emphasized only one
part of the truth, ignoring the rest of life as irrelevant, he realized
that Bentham's doctrines themselves had not comprehended the full range
of human nature. Thus, just as Mill made a new priority of achieving a
just balance of his personal faculties, he began to apply the same
criterion to the study of man in general.

In the essay entitled "Bentham," we find Mill taking stock of his
intellectual past, and, by coming to grips with its shortcomings,
emerging with a fuller set of questions to aid his inquiry about the
proper way to study human nature. Bentham's method emphasized the
gathering of exhaustive details about the object of study in order to
decrease one's reliance on received generalizations. Mill saw great
originality in this method, as it refused to take anything on faith, but
found it wanting with regard to morality. To illustrate this, Mill
devotes two pages in his essay to a passage of Bentham's, wherein he
applies "method of *detail*" to the phrases which men use in referring
to their moral faculty.[^10] As promised, Bentham makes "short work with
the ordinary modes of moral and political reasoning," showing how the
"gravest questions of morality and policy were made to turn" not on
"reasons, but allusions to reasons." By recourse to his
"greatest-happiness" principle, he shows that he has at his disposal a
tool for whittling away inexact speech patterns and revealing the true
motives of mankind. Still, Mill is full of misgivings about Bentham's
ultimate glibness in dealing with such important questions. "His
peculiar method," Mill writes, "is a security for accuracy, but not for
comprehensiveness; or, rather, it is a security for one sort of
comprehensiveness, but not for another."[^11] This other sort of
completeness is the half of the truth which Bentham failed to grasp.

In Mill's opinion, Bentham had never penetrated the surface of human
life and come to grips with other sorts of interests than the merely
physical happiness of the agent. Mill attributes this to Bentham's lack
of empathy with other minds, and unfamiliarity with other modes of
enquiry. Bentham lacked the "imagination," or the empathy, to enter
"into the mind and circumstances of others."[^12] Thus, he was never
forced to confront the limitations of his own methods. Lacking any
insight into his own perspective on things, he refused to admit that
even scientific truth is often altered by the prejudices of the
observer. And by avoiding generalities, Bentham continually denied
himself "the whole unanalyzed experience of the human race."[^13] Thus,
because Bentham flatly ignored these other important areas of human
life, Mill concludes that "no one, probably, who\...ever attempted to
give a rule to all human conduct, set out with a more limited knowledge
either of the things by which human conduct *is*, or of those by which
it *should* be influenced."[^14] Though Bentham's initial premises could
take him farther than anyone before him, Mill finds it implausible that
such a "one-eyed man" with such "an unusually slender stock of premises"
should ever be trusted with regard to normative judgements.[^15]

This evaluation of Bentham's method makes Mill's critique of his
substantive philosophical views more pointed. The latter was enamored of
utilitarianism as a youth because it seemed to offer an impartial means
of prescribing desirable actions. But now, Mill realizes that man "is
conceived by Bentham as a being susceptible of pleasures and pains, and
governed in all his conduct partly by the different modifications of
self interest and the passions commonly classed as selfish, partly by
sympathies, or occasionally antipathies, toward other beings."[^16] Mill
is incredulous at Bentham's unwillingness to accept man as a being
capable of "pursuing spiritual perfection as an end of desiring for its
own sake."[^17] He cannot imagine man having a conscience, or any notion
of intrinsic excellence or immorality in a mode of behavior, apart from
reference to self-interest. In overlooking "the existence of about half
of the whole number of mental feelings which human beings are capable
of," Bentham falls in Mill's estimation as an authority for normative
judgement. Thus, Mill has clearly raised his standards for adequate
prescription, but has not developed its full ramifications. His
discussion of the three aspects of morality --- the moral, aesthetic,
and sympathetic --- will be covered in greater detail several years
later, in the *Logic*.

The gaps in classical utilitarianism which Mill explores in "Bentham"
are filled in by the essay on Coleridge, written two years after the
first. Where Bentham's followers sought to destroy older institutions on
the grounds that they were obsolete, the men whom Mill calls the
"Germano-Coleridgean" philosophers took a more conservative attitude,
trying to preserve the rational core of existing institutions. To some
extent, it was a humbler approach, in that it did not presume to know
human nature in as robust a sense as the utilitarian doctrine. Instead,
it tried to establish the *conditions* for human society wherein "law
and government" were "firmly and durably established" but "vigour and
manliness of character" was preserved.[^18] This distinction between
substantive prescription and the search for conditions proves crucial
for Mill's subsequent transformation of social theory. Instead of
presenting an ahistorical picture of "human nature," the Coleridgeans
tried to maintain the specificity of their objects of study,
understanding the reciprocal effects of institutions and human nature on
each other.

Though the exact sources from which Mill derived the three principal
"conditions" for social union is unclear, he presents them as the
product of a "Germano-Coleridgean" tradition taken as a whole. The first
condition is the existence of a system of education, with the main
"ingredient" being "*restraining discipline*" Such discipline encourages
conduct which tends towards the accepted ends of "society at
large."[^19] The second condition is "the feeling of allegiance, or
loyalty." Mill is not specific as to "its objects" though he by no means
excludes "laws; ancient liberties\... ordinances\... or some part of the
political, or even of the domestic institutions of the state." This type
of loyalty serves as "some fixed point; something which men agreed in
holding sacred" in the society which is "placed *above* discussion." In
the event of a civil crisis, these feelings hold together the
"fundamental principles of the system of social union which happens to
exist," the questioning of which lead to "civil war."[^20] The third
condition, "a strong and active principle of nationality," is only
slightly distinguishable from the second. It is a principle "of
sympathy, not of hostility; of union, not of separation" such that "one
part of the community shall feel that they are one people, that their
lot is cast together, that evil to any of their fellow-countrymen is
evil to themselves."

The main point Mill clearly draws out in his presentation of these
conditions is their position within the structure of community belief.
While making no suggestions as to their substantive content, he is
emphasizing that the foundations of a political community are the
cultural and national ties, and not any specific institutional
formation. These conditions, the importance of which he stresses by
reproducing this passage in its entirety in Book VI of the *Logic*, are
central to Mill's conception of social analysis. The only dimension of
the conditions not explicitly mentioned in the above passage is their
essentially historical nature. They cannot be manufactured, or imposed
upon a society, without any regard for their historical traditions.
Reforms along such lines can only "\[throw\] away the shell without
preserving the kernel;" and attempt "to new model society without the
binding forces which hold society together." Mill commends the
Germano-Coleridgean school for avoiding these tendencies, and producing
in their analyses

> not a piece of party advocacy, but a philosophy of society, in the
> only form in which it is yet possible, that of a philosophy of
> history; not a defence of particular ethical or religious doctrines,
> but a contribution, the largest made by any class of thinkers, towards
> the philosophy of human culture.[^21]

By incorporating the conditions of a stable society into their
interpretation of history, they look for tendencies which are, for all
practical purposes, "permanent forms of social existence."[^22]

Thus, we have seen how "Bentham" and "Coleridge" chronicle Mill's moving
away from his unquestioning belief in Benthamite anthropology. He
reveals Bentham's assumption of self interest as the primary human
motivation to be radically incomplete. Still, the question remains open
as to how he plans to fill the yawning gap left in our sure knowledge of
human nature by his scathing critiques of older models. The short answer
is that he does *not* do so in any of his works. In reading the *Logic*,
we find Mill attempting to finish what the Coleridgeans started. They
postulated cultural conditions for the existence of a stable polity.
Mill plumbs even deeper, postulating psychological conditions for the
cultural ones, and lays out a method by which these conditions can be
used, at least in principle, to ground the study of society on a
scientific basis.

\* \* \* \* \* \*

Mill's science of society is only the form of a science. Unlike
utilitarianism's boundless domain, Mill's self-imposed "limitation" is
an explicit postulate of the science itself. Thus, instead of
proclaiming its own completeness, it offers itself as only a method to
be completed by "the next two or three generations of European thinkers"
over an indefinite period of time. And yet, as methods go, the one
offered in the *Logic* is by no means vague and general about the goals
the finished science shall attain. Mill offers the reader a precise,
hierarchical typology of the scientific statements applicable to the
study of society.

*The Logic of the Moral Sciences*, Book VI of the *Logic*, is Mill's
attempt to comprehend, once and for all, the roles of liberty and
necessity in human behavior, in order to ground the possibility of a
science which can study social life. From the first chapter, Mill
struggles to find some compromise between the theories which postulate
the radical autonomy of the will to be a cause in nature and those which
see the will as ultimately caused by nature, thus incapable of truly
independent action. Neither position alone appeals to Mill. A notion of
unconstrained free will runs counter to his scientific (and even
naturalistic) ambitions, as it implies that human behavior should be
excluded from being an object of systematic analysis. Mill truly
believes that human behavior can be subsumed under general laws. The
necessitarian argument, however, due to the strong connotations of the
word "necessity" can make arguments for any sort of morality
unsustainable. It allows us to see immoral actions and motives as given
by our environment and the agents around us. Mill finds a middle ground
of sorts in a conception of the self-formed "character." He observes
that, as a matter of fact, people do not see themselves as constrained
by necessity. To feel otherwise is "humiliating to our pride, and (what
is of more importance) paralyzing to our desire of excellence."[^23]
Human beings, then, need to feel as if they can make choices about their
personal behavior---their actions, their personalities, their emotions.
He finds that "this feeling, of our being able to modify our character
*if we wish*, is itself the feeling of moral freedom which we are
conscious of."[^24]

Moral freedom is associated with a sense of autonomous purpose, that
which Mill calls "character." On one hand, "none but a person of
confirmed virtue is completely free." On the other, "it is only when our
purposes have become independent of the feelings of pain or pleasure
from which they originally took their rise, that we are said to have
confirmed character."[^25] Bentham's utilitarianism, the reigning social
theory of Mill's day, could be said to present the seeking of pleasure
and the avoidance of pain as predominantly natural tendencies. But we
have already seen how natural tendencies can be opposed to a sense of
human dignity. Thus, Mill's critique of necessitarianism is implicitly a
critique of Bentham's doctrines. The freedom to shape one's own
character even when subject to the influence of "natural" causes, like
crude self-interest, is associated with moral freedom.

This development is in line with Mill's expanded conception of human
nature presented in the essays on Bentham and Coleridge. The utilitarian
analysis is synchronic and ahistorical, presenting people as rational
calculators of utility in a static historical horizon. Mill, influenced
by Comte's historical analysis of society, sees such analysis as a
"half-truth." So, while Benthamism can serve to understand a single man
in the context of an ahistorical society, it is deficient when one tries
to develop an understanding the development of this individual over time
and within a developing culture. This mode of study requires the richer
conception of human nature Mill hinted at in his "Coleridge." Thus, in
the *Logic*, as in the earlier essay, he tries less to discern
substantive propositions about human nature than to determine the
epistemological conditions upon which such nature must be based.

Mill believes that human nature is formed according to definite causal
laws. To know all of the relevant causal data for a given subject, or
for a society, would in principle allow the scientist to explain human
behavior or even to predict future behavior from the past. But in
examining even simple social phenomena, to isolate any single cause
responsible for a known effect is next to impossible. As Comte rightly
pointed out, causes in the social sphere are manifold and
interdependent. For example, to explain why a child comes to be mentally
superior to his peers, it is not enough to know merely that his father
applied rigorous training at a young age. One would have to take his
family's socioeconomic background, their cultural heritage, or a
plethora of other causes into account. In order for Mill to make good
his claim for the existence of this science of human nature, he needs to
set out carefully the characteristics of general laws which can be of
value in explaining the vicissitudes of social life.

Chapters three to five of the *Logic of the Moral Sciences* establish
the typology of social scientific laws. The most common are empirical
laws of society which are generated by careful analysis of historical
and statistical data. But there are also empirical laws produced by the
science of Psychology. Such "Laws of Mind" are derived in the same way
as in history or normal social science, by "observation and experiment"
of, and with, "the mental successions themselves."[^26] They are "laws
according to which...feelings generate one another."[^27] Though they
are abstractions from aggregates of data, these laws are not worthless
to the social science. Generalizations applied to a large mass
collectively can be seen as "equivalent" to exact laws.[^28] But they
are valid only *ex post*, in that their findings are valid within their
domain of explanation. One would have to be careless, or presumptuous,
to expect empirical data to act as explanations of the laws. The reverse
is more plausible to Mill, that empirical laws establish the body of
knowledge that some theory must explain *ex ante*. This is why human
nature becomes the locus of Mill's concerns. Only by understanding the
general laws of human nature *a priori* can one explain the empirical
laws of social science.

Thus, the creation of an edifice of scientific knowledge concerning
human nature becomes the focus of Mill's agenda. Mill calls the science
associated with this aim "ethology." Ethology will ascertain the more
"general conditions" for adequate knowledge in the social sphere.
Instead of being empirical laws, these general conditions will be seen
as "the universal laws\...of the formation of character." Such universal
laws would be eminently useful to a social scientist, seeing that

> human beings do not all feel and act alike in the same circumstances;
> but it is possible to determine what makes one person, in a given
> position, feel or act in one way, another in another...mankind have
> not one universal character, but there exist universal laws of the
> Formation of Character...it is on these that every rational attempt to
> construct the science of human nature in the concrete, and for
> practical purposes, must proceed.[^29]

Such a science cannot lead to actual prediction of events. It can only
determine the tendencies of certain means to produce certain effects,
while other means frustrate them. But Mill insists upon its "practical
value" as an exact science. Its statements are truly explanatory,
because they are grounded on universal laws.

Even so, merely to name a science and proclaim its value does not bring
it into being. A new science demands a new method, one that is superior
to the crude empiricism of history and psychology. Mill responds to this
challenge by making ethology a *deductive* science. Its general
principles, the universal laws of human nature, cannot be derived from a
set of data. Instead, the data is used to verify the general laws. Mill
imagines these laws to be "a system of corollaries from psychology the
experimental science." They will be the "middle principles" which
connect the empirical laws of mind to the laws of history and
society.[^30] And yet, he stops short of explaining the actual process
by which the laws to be tested are themselves generated. From the
general thrust of his argument, one could argue that he intends an
intelligent person to intuit these laws spontaneously. This person would
rigorously test them in various circumstances and the science would keep
those that survived all possible tests. However tempting this argument
seems, such a selection process strongly resembles traditional
scientific reasoning. To require a test of the general laws denies their
*a priori* status. A more evocative argument would claim that Mill
actually intends ethology to be what the modern age calls a "critical
theory." In other words, it is not intended to tell us what human nature
*is*, because there is no way to determine that scientifically. Instead,
it supplies a conceptual framework which allows the human scientist to
criticize the normative claims of others based on the negative knowledge
of what human nature is not.

This argument seems plausible when ethology is understood in the context
of the larger plan of the *Logic*. At first glance, the discussion of
ethology seems out of place in a treatise supposedly on the methods of
social science. But it is not difficult to see the motivation behind
this apparent anomaly. Mill needs to postulate universal laws for
individual behavior in order to say the same for social behavior. He
explains in chapter 6 that

> All phenomena of society are phenomena of human nature generated by
> the action of outward circumstances upon masses of human beings \[the
> collective mind of our race\]: and if, therefore, the phenomena of
> human thought, feeling, and action, are subject to fixed laws, the
> phenomena of society cannot but conform to fixed laws, the consequence
> of the preceding.[^31]

And if the conception of human nature needs to be widened in order to
comprehend the full range of experience, so does the conception of
social nature. Thus, we see the *Logic* address the same methodological
issues for society as it did for the individual. And if we apply the
above argument again, the *Logic* can be read as a prolegomenon for a
negative critique of falsely grounded social sciences.

Mill's "inverse deductive method" is the innovation which makes this
critique possible. In the same fashion as ethology, it starts with the
causes "which produce, and the phenomena which characterize, States of
Society in general" and works deductively to understand the effects,
never inferring causes from empirical data.[^32] The method again
incorporates the Coleridgean's historical sense into the interpretation
of culture, but is more indebted to Comte for his fuller development of
Social Statics and Dynamics. Statics is the study of states of society
in general, to understand the nature of the "consensus" which holds
together a system of social phenomena. Dynamics, on the other hand, is
"the fundamental problem" of the social sciences. It requires us to
consider the progress of society and whether the tendencies of social
behavior over time are linked with specific ends.[^33] The inverse
deductive method of social science is conducive toward such teleological
thinking because, like ethology, it proceeds from the general principles
towards specific historical manifestations.

Mill makes several attempts in the *Logic* to suggest specific laws of
progress. One of the most significant of these claims that

> the evidence of history and that of human nature combine, by a
> striking instance of consilience, to show that there really is one
> social element which is thus predominant, and almost paramount, among
> the agents of the social progression. This is, the state of the
> speculative faculties of mankind; including the nature of beliefs
> which by any means they have arrived at, concerning themselves and the
> world by which they are surrounded.[^34]

But he cannot go all the way and assert universal status for this claim,
as it could only be proven by "study of the whole of past time"---an
impossible task! Thus, it becomes more and more difficult to understand
what Mill expects from a science of society. He leaves his own science
radically unfinished, to the point of denying any sort of completion
whatsoever. This difficulty, however, is not out of character with the
rest of his project. Science for Mill is a method at arriving at the
truth. But science itself should carry no normative power. That honor
goes to what Mill calls "art." Art proposes prescriptive ends to itself,
gives these ends to the sciences, and determines if the science's
results are feasible, or desirable.

Taken abstractly, art is an ill-defined notion, by Mill's own admission.
The most that can be said about its "nature" is that it is oriented
toward practice. As Mill explains, art "consists of the truths of
Science, arranged in the most convenient order for practice, instead of
the order which is most convenient for thought."[^35] Practice, however,
often follows some discernible pattern in human societies, being the
practice of human beings who are subject to laws of human nature. Thus,
when Mill asserts the need for a set of "intermediate scientific truths"
derived from science to serve as the "generalia" or first principles of
the various arts, it is hard to deny the similarity between the roles of
art and the universal laws of Mill's own social science. But, just as
Mill found difficulty in framing those principles with existing
knowledge, he is equally as unsure of the principles of art. The
"scientific operation of framing these intermediate principles, M. Comte
characterizes as one of those results of philosophy which are reserved
for futurity."[^36] Thus, the discovery of these most important ends of
human conduct, a complete account of the "Art of Life," is left for a
period of greater knowledge.

In this fashion, the *Logic* shows that the process of setting ends for
society is ultimately *unscientific*. But, then, it is not clear why
Mill spends so much time and effort developing the machinery for a new
science, only to render it presently inoperative for lack of adequate
preparation. The answer can be found in his new program for society.
Just as the union of means and ends in the sciences alone leads to
inadequate social prescription, the separation of means and ends in the
sciences and the arts is just as inadequate. Empirical laws never seem
survive the conceptual transition to universal laws because there is
always the possibility that the former are not authentic representations
of human nature. Mill's insight is that many historically-formed "laws"
of human nature have a staying power which is not always in tune with
what might be called the "Spirit of the Age." He needs the arguments in
the *Logic* to clear the conceptual deck once and for all, in order to
establish the *possibility* for a radical "reconstruction of the human
intellect *ab imo*."[^37]

The *Logic*, then, can be seen primarily as a negative project. Mill's
attempts at normative prescription in various sections are tentative and
usually refer to longer discussions in other works. The end of chapter
12 is a characteristic example of this phenomenon. Mill, concluding his
discussion of the "Art of Life," comes upon the problem of ordering
conflicting ends. Immediately, he invokes utility as a the final
arbitrator in such conflicts, but the type of argument seems
uncharacteristic within what had been a purely scientific treatise.
Instead of carefully deducing the need for utility, he states bluntly

> Without attempting in this place to justify my opinion, or even to
> define the kind of justification which it admits of, I merely declare
> my conviction, that the general principle to which all rules of
> practice ought to conform, and the test by which they should be tried,
> is that of conduciveness to the happiness of mankind, or rather, of
> all sentient beings: in other words, that the promotion of happiness
> is the ultimate principle of teleology.[^38]

There is no attempt at formal proof here, much less at any sort of
rational argument at all. Instead, we find only Mill's "conviction" that
(what is clearly) utility must be the standard against which all
normative statements are measured. But despite its seemingly
uncharacteristic nature, in the context of Mill's other work, the candid
quality of this statement is no accident. Nor is it a symptom of
philosophical laxity. This mode of argument, to which I shall refer as
"conviction," is the foundation of what I see as Mill's *positive*
project.

Mill does not intend the destructive arguments found in the *Logic*
merely to debunk the pretensions of social science, portraying previous
conceptions as being of little value. Instead, as mentioned before, they
serve to remind us that individual human natures and human societies are
more complicated than classical utilitarianism and traditional theories
of history thought possible. By showing how "one-eyed" principles of
human nature are methodologically unsound, Mill opens up the possibility
for fuller conceptions. More specifically, in showing how
interest-dominated utilitarianism falls short of the mark, the spell of
self-interest can be broken, if the proper steps are taken. In this
light, what modern social theory would call "methodological
individualism" seems less plausible as an adequate explanatory model.
With the probability of scientifically deriving new theories of human
nature to replace the old rendered negligible under existing knowledge,
Mill thus creates a space of uncertainty within which he can redefine
human nature through the force of his convictions.

\* \* \* \* \* \*

The essay "Utilitarianism," which is on one level a defense of an
expanded notion of utility, is also a sustained example of conviction as
a form of social prescription. Mill presents conviction as an adequate
means of guidance given an uncertain state of knowledge with regard to
practical matters. In Bentham's doctrine, utility serves as the ultimate
standard of judgement on all matters. Bentham, moreover, claimed that
utility could be adequately proven, through an argument which challenged
alternate principles to be evaluated by other standards besides utility.
By showing how all such arguments ultimately must invoke utility as
their sanction, he considered the deduction as proven. This argument is
so obviously unfalsifiable, however, that Mill never uses it in his own
defenses of utility. Instead, he falls back on his reasoning in the
conclusion to the *Logic*, that questions of ends are not "amenable to
direct proof." Thus, his aim for the essay is merely to present
"considerations\... capable of determining the intellect either to give
or withhold its assent to the doctrine." This, he claims in the first
chapter, is "equivalent" to proof.[^39] Mill, then, does not care if he
can demonstrate that utility is a fundamental human motive. Given the
predominance of utilitarianism in the thought of his own time, he
assumes it as a given fact, at least in its crude form.

Instead of proving, then, that people do obey utility to some extent,
"Utilitarianism"'s most striking arguments insist that motivations other
than physical pleasure---virtue, for instance---can have their origin in
utility. In chapter IV, Mill addresses what appear to be exceptional
cases of this phenomenon: money and power. Mill initially attributes the
desire for both of these objects to crude utility. They serve as means
to the end of acquiring pleasure. Over time, however, "what was once
desired as an instrument for the attainment of happiness has come to be
desired for its own sake."[^40] The boundary between means and their
related ends becomes indistinct. Virtue, according to Mill's opinion, is
also a good of this sort. Originally, it is acquired in order to be
accepted by one's peers. It slowly gains autonomy from the direct
feelings of pleasure and pain, and becomes an end unto itself. Thus,
Mill concludes that all actions, whether or not they still incite
pleasurable sensations, find their initial motivation in the pursuit of
pleasure. This is all Mill can attempt to "prove" with regard to the
influence utility has over human choices. But this is no trivial
accomplishment. In drawing the comparison between the intrinsic love of
money and power and the intrinsic valuation of virtue, Mill has
suggested the *possibility* of instilling virtue by artificial means.

This notion of "possibility" is the innovative core of Mill's revised
utilitarianism. Previous notions of utility might accept Mill's
developmental arguments about the love of money and power, because they
can be associated directly with pleasures and pains affecting the
subject. To extend the same reasoning to virtue would be considered more
difficult, as the related pleasures and pains of virtue are "derived"
merely from the approbation (or lack thereof) of society. In order to
prove the fundamental influence of the motive of utility, then, Mill
needs to show that men care about the opinions of others. But this is
impossible, as we have seen time and time again. Public approbation,
being a source of utility, is an end. Thus, it resists direct proof of
its validity. In other words, Mill lacks a compelling reason why public
opinion is a powerful force.

But this lack of an explanation does not detain him from proceeding.
Mill's intellectual crisis came about because he had extended his
rational faculties to their limits, and found nothing there to engage
his feelings. "The habit of analysis," the later Mill realizes in his
autobiographical reflections, "has a tendency to wear away the feelings:
as indeed it has when no other mental habit is cultivated, and the
analyzing spirit remains without its natural complements and
correctives."[^41] "Utilitarianism" contains passages expressing similar
sentiments, stressing that

> moral associations which are wholly of artificial creation, when the
> intellectual culture goes on, yield by degrees to the dissolving force
> of analysis; and if the feeling of duty, when associated with utility,
> would appear equally arbitrary; if there were no leading department of
> our nature, no powerful class of sentiments, with which that
> association would harmonize, which would make us feel congenial and
> incline us not only to foster it in others (for which we have abundant
> interested motives), but also to cherish it in ourselves - if there
> were not, in short, a *natural basis of sentiment* for utilitarian
> morality, it might well happen that this association also, even after
> it had been implanted by education, might be analyzed away.[^42]

Mill's response to emotional crisis demanded a revaluation of the role
of feelings and convictions in his own life. Though he could not prove
their existence, he could intuit their importance. We have already seen
how this concern with human existence in its fullest potentiality
radiates throughout his later works.[^43] What we now see, in
"Utilitarianism," is the application of Mill's personal convictions to
his analysis of social life. Through force of conviction, he finds the
basis of powerful natural sentiment in "the social feelings of
mankind."[^44] From the indeterminacy of human nature in the present
age, a state of affairs established by the *Logic*, Mill uses this
notion of "social feeling" as a postulate in order to construct a
positive conception of human life in the future.

The power of (what I call) Mill's notion of "social utility" derives
from its relation to the convictions of individuals. By assuming that
humans are deeply concerned about their relation to others, he can
rightfully assume that strengthening social ties gives the individual a
greater interest in collectivity as well as leading him to identify
their "*feelings* more and more with their good\...He comes, as though
instinctively, to be conscious of himself as a being who *of course*
pays regard to others."[^45] That is, through connecting people's notion
of utility with concern for others by widening utility itself, the
abovementioned process which turns means---money, power, love---into
independent ends over time---greed, megalomania, virtue---makes social
feelings appear "natural" to those who feel them. Mill perceives this
state of affairs as already the case for a few enlightened individuals.
Thus, it is clearly not excluded from the possibilities of human nature.
Nor are these motives, most properly called "altruistic," incompatible
with utilitarianism, given even a weak assumption of "social utility" to
augment the standard notion.

The inculcation of altruism at the level of human nature itself is the
positive end of Mill's project. A full conception of the associated
means, however, is only hinted at in several passages of
"Utilitarianism." If Mill could elucidate such a system completely, it
could explain the nature of the aforementioned "connection" between
utility and virtue. With such an explanation in hand, we could judge its
feasibility or desirability. Mill, however, has no intention of letting
us do this. Such a mode of evaluation is too reminiscent of the division
between science and art. He has already given us an end. Explicating the
means would be playing the part of science. Furthermore, letting the
reader evaluate his intentions would only make him or her into the
bearer of the art. Instead, Mill defers the explicit formulation and
execution of the means for future generations. In the next section, I
will discuss Mill's plan for this possible future: the "Religion of
Humanity."

\* \* \* \* \* \*

Most forms of utilitarianism demand that all actions should be directed
toward the maximization of utility. Mill could never contest this claim,
but would extend the range of acceptable actions to include those which
maximize social utility. The problem is, however, that men of the Mill's
time appear to have no reason to give consideration to others who do not
directly benefit them. This might be a real impediment to Mill's
ambitions. But if the motivations of human beings could be expanded to
include altruism, there would be no need for reasons at all. People
would act out of virtue as if it were a "natural" attribute of human
nature. This might only apply to a small number of men who would have
the sensitivity of mind to think of others as equally deserving of
utility. For the rest, "Utilitarianism" warns that "both in feeling and
conduct, habit is the only thing which imparts certainty."[^46] Thus,
the means Mill chooses to further his transformative ends must give the
best people adequate justification to change their motivations, and
supply the worst with a set of habits which would make even the
adjustment of motivations secondary. His study of history reveals that
supernatural religions have adequately accomplished both goals.
Religion, then, appears to Mill to have the greatest potential to be a
genuinely transformative force in society.

According to Mill's analysis, religion is a characteristically human
need based on our limited nature. At first, the fear of nature leads us
to anthropomorphize it. This allows us to replace a conception of nature
as arbitrary with one that imagined it as a sentient being who can be
placated by human actions. Then nature is subsumed under a higher
divinity who is the source the life and volition of people themselves.
Religion, and the morality which arises alongside it, arise from our
desire to understand this divine force, and our ultimate incapability to
do so. Mankind is limited because, as beings existing in time, "the past
and future are alike shrouded from us; we neither know the origin of
anything which is, nor its final destination." It is our imagination
(the value of which, as we saw previously, Bentham never acknowledged)
which fills the gaps in our knowledge with "imagery most congenial to
itself," usually depicting another world that holds all of the good
denied us in our own. Thus, "so long as human life is insufficient to
satisfy human aspirations," that is, so long as mankind's level of
happiness is insufficient, "so long there will be a craving for higher
things, which finds its most satisfaction in religion."[^47]

In his sociological analysis of religion in older societies, that which
Mill finds most powerful about religious belief has been its tendency to
promote divine ideals. Religion presents itself to man as a set of
ceremonies that aim to satisfy the wishes of a higher being. This goal
is not supposed to be for the sake of worldly benefit. Nor need it admit
of external, or philosophical proof, as it is supposed to be an
intrinsically desired end. In this way, religious ideals hold a position
in the individual human mind that can direct human behavior towards
perfection. As a system of morality, classical utilitarianism treats
history as a succession of temporally contiguous states of society. It
allows no overarching goals but only an incremental one: that of
increasing utility from moment to moment. Religion, on the other hand,
associates human systems of morality with an explanation of the entire
past and present of human history as pointing to a future state of
divine grace. Mill thus concludes that morality, the perfection of human
conduct and the source of altruistic motives, has always been presented
in the context of religion. It is the *futurity* implicit in the
perfectionism associated with religious ideals which makes them
compatible with his plans for the positive reconstruction of society.

Even more than the mode of religious belief, Mill sees the mode of
religious instruction as crucial to his aims. All morality is brought
into education in the form of religious creed; and according to Mill,
this method appears to have worked. Though social theory might say
otherwise, most people do act out of a sense of morality in at least
some part of their daily lives. But even if Mill cannot deny that the
religious content of the education is important, the religious creed
establishing exactly what will be taught, he sees the nature of
religious teaching as that which is truly responsible for its efficacy.
First of all, the authority implicit in the relation of teacher to
student has "involuntary influence" on men's convictions and their
involuntary sentiments.[^48] Moreover, in everyday life, we see "how
powerful a hold...first impressions retain over the feelings of those,
who have given up the opinions which they were early taught."[^49] Thus,
Mill also sees the authority and temporal primacy exploited by the mode
of religious education as yet another contribution to his project.

While Mill admits the efficacy of these factors, he considers this
account of the power of religion to be incomplete. Early training and
authority impute too much power to the central authority responsible for
such education. Instead, Mill suggests that the praise and blame of
others has a power that religious minds ignore. Again relying on his
assumption that people treat social approbation as a source of utility
and disutility, Mill develops a new (and intuitively plausible) theory
of religious obedience. Public opinion "is a source of strength inherent
in any system of moral belief which is generally adopted, whether
connected with religion or not."[^50] It capitalizes somewhat on
people\'s fear of scorn, but also carries the tangible threat of actual
exclusion from social life. Though it has the unfortunate tendency to
suppress the expression of unacceptable truth in the face of unanimous
opposition, its influence is generally beneficial within the realm of
everyday moral life. Peace and security are easily maintained if the
populace desires it. Religion, too, finds earthly support from the
incentive of public opinion. Mill even goes so far as to say that
religion has "been powerful not by its intrinsic force, but because it
has wielded that additional and more mighty power" of public
opinion.[^51] Thus, extending Mill's previous connection between
religion and progress, public opinion appears to replace religion as the
true motor of social progress.

The immediate response to this would be to ask why Mill remains so
attached to religion at all, if public opinion is the ultimate sanction
of human conduct. The answer is: that public opinion, as the sum total
of the opinions of a mass, is completely indeterminate. Though it might
be claimed that an individual has no direct control over the public
mood, it is impossible to deny that masses can be fickle. Unquestioned
taboos one day become commonplace the next. Mill, then, needs a way to
infuse public opinion with progressive ideals. Religion would appear to
offer the best means to achieve this, seeing as most existing religions
base themselves upon higher truths. The creeds and ceremonies of
religion, their worldly manifestations, should be capable of encouraging
a certain level of conformity to ideals. But the ceremonies and creeds
of most traditional religions, Christianity included, also act as
impediments to the progress of mankind.

It is a generally accepted proposition that, in the political sphere,
Mill has great faith that man can solve any problem he faces. As he
notes in "Utilitarianism,"

> No one whose opinion deserves a moment's consideration can doubt that
> most of the great positive evils of the world are in themselves
> removable, and will, if human affairs continue to improve, be in the
> end reduced within narrow limits... All the grand sources... of human
> suffering are in a great degree, many of them entirely, conquerable by
> human care and effort.[^52]

Mill assumes that politics and science show a clear progression over the
course of history; and there is no reason at present that progression
should stop. Mankind, however, progresses in other areas of his life
besides politics. A very important passage written by Mill in his diary
of 1854 tells us

> that there is no progress, and no reason to expect progress, in
> talents or strength of mind; of which there is as much, often more, in
> an ignorant than a cultivated age. But there is great progress, and
> great reason to expect progress, in feelings and opinions. If it is
> asked whether there is progress in intellect, the answer will be found
> in the two preceding statements taken together.[^53]

It would be no great reach to say that Mill is speaking here about
cultural progress. As opposed to the constant improvement in the spheres
of physical comfort and scientific development, true progress lies in
mankind's feelings and convictions. He implies as much in his extensive
citation of Herbert Spenser in *Auguste Comte and Positivism*. Mill
emphasizes his agreement with Spenser's assessment that "the world is
governed and overthrown by feelings, to which ideas serve only as
guides."[^54] This, I would argue, is another of Mill's most central
convictions, for which proof is unnecessary.

Religious tradition does not have to stand in the way of such progress;
in fact, some form of this tradition is foundational to it. No tradition
is entirely univocal, and even the most superficially homogeneous set of
received doctrines can have radically diverse interpretations. For Mill,
the distinguishing feature between a "dynamic" tradition and a "static"
tradition is the attitude of those who receive it. The supernatural
forms of religion engender an attitude of over-reverence toward
tradition. The letter of religion is taken blindly, "with no consistent
principle, nor even any consistent feeling, to guide it."[^55] Coleridge
would have condemned this attitude as "*bibliolatry.*" Ascribing a
supernatural origin to the "received maxims of morality... consecrates
the whole of them, and protects them from being discussed or
criticized." Those doctrines which were "erroneous from the first" as
well as those which are "no longer suited to the changes that have taken
place in human relations" are given equal credence with those that do
remain relevant to a human society.[^56] In this state of affairs, there
is no room for improving on the received doctrines. This is how
traditional religion stands in the way of the progress which Mill
demands.

Supernatural religion also has the tendency to equate God, the perfect
Being, with Nature itself. This lets it derive moral claims from the
various "laws of nature" and justify them with theological arguments.
God is perfect, people say, so nature is perfect. As an example, one
might argue that the survival of the fittest, a biological (and even
economic) law reflects divine intention. Therefore, it would be claimed
that this doctrine deserves to be incorporated into our moral and
political systems. Opposed to this view, Mill argues that Nature is
radically imperfect. Even the "commonest phenomena" of nature evince a
"blind partiality, atrocious cruelty, and reckless injustice."[^57]
Those who believe in the moral perfection of God must also accept these
imperfections of nature as the work of the same being. The moral
perplexity of reconciling two such contradictory world-views can only be
mitigated by theological "sophistry." As an example, one might try and
suspend one's judgement on this matter, trusting in the mysteries of
providence. But

> when...this is the feeling of the believer, the worship of the Deity
> ceases to be the adoration of abstract moral perfection. It becomes
> the bowing down to a gigantic image of something not fit for us to
> imitate. It is the worship of power only.[^58]

It is striking how Mill joins the term "power," a term usually implying
a political relation between individuals, with the word "worship," a
term denoting in this context the personal belief in an incorporeal
Being. The critique of the unchecked concentration of power is a
persistent theme in Mill's works. From as early as the essay on Bentham
to the later work on Comte, Mill is well aware of the all-pervading
nature of power in society.[^59] It is not the case that *either* those
who control men's minds have power over their bodies or that those who
hold sway over physical conditions influence men's opinions. Through the
juxtaposition of both essays, it is apparent that Mill sees patterns of
influence running in both directions. In the present state of things,
then, the physical and emotional worlds of people in society can be
severely constrained by political power and religious dogma. The only
way that reforms in political life can be made lasting is through the
renovation of our convictions and sentiments, the basis of cultural
life. Such is the case because, as we have noted before, Mill perceives
political life as founded upon the cultural life of a society.

This is why Mill cannot discard religion altogether, although it seems
to be the most serious obstacle to progress. Now it can be seen how
"Utility of Religion" has the effect of setting the doctrines of
"Utilitarianism" in their proper context. In the latter essay, Mill
calls for societies to use the power of education and opinion "to
establish in the mind of every individual an indissoluble association
between his own happiness and the good of the whole."[^60] That is, the
means to a society founded upon Mill's wider notion of utility is a
religion. But not any religion will do; only a religion amenable to
utility and its progressive aims can satisfy Mill's requirements. And we
have already seen how Mill perceived the traditional religions of his
day as unprogressive and inadequate for the task. Thus, the reform of
society must begin with a reform of religion. It is for this reason that
Mill formulates the requirements of an entirely new conception of
religion, the Religion of Humanity.

The French Positivist Auguste Comte postulated the creation of a
Religion of Humanity as a response to the historical trends he observed
at work in early nineteenth century Europe. For Comte, history was at
bottom a history of the leading intellectual ideas of a time. This led
him to the opinion that the history of the world was comprised of three
stages: the theological, the metaphysical, and the positive.
Christianity was born in a theological age, the reformation inaugurated
a metaphysical revision of religion, and, in Comte's eyes, the positive
age was yet to come. The same development had occurred in all of the
sciences, so it did not seem absurd to assume that all modes of thought
and all aspects of life would follow suit in due time.

In fact, Comte assumed that a positive age was imminent and that, as a
sociologist, it was his role to prescribe the appropriate institutions
for this future state of society. Keeping with his view of history, the
positive sciences served as his model for culture in general. His goal
was to replace theological and metaphysical religion with a systematic
ordering of society founded on nothing that could not be found in the
earthly realm. Thus, he invented a religion where God is replaced by
Humanity itself as an "concrete" object of worship.[^61] This was the
core of Comte's Religion of Humanity. Instead of high priests, there
would be an elite who, belonging to a "Spiritual Power," would serve as
religious figureheads. Through their command over public opinion and
education, they would shape the social and cultural development of
society. Furthermore, Comte himself saw fit to create the prayers and
ceremonies which would keep the flame of Humanity burning at all times
throughout the society. Thus, in following his view of history to its
logical end, Comte systematically formulated an entire religion, which
he thought ready to assume a deserved preeminence in European life.

Although Mill appreciates the primary motivation behind Comte's efforts,
to replace supernatural religion with a religion of Humanity, he thinks
that Comte overstepped his bounds as a social theorist. First of all,
Mill sees in Comte the fatal error which discredited classical
utilitarianism. The Frenchman saw his science as complete, while it only
held half of the truth. The true half is crucial to Mill, who notes in
his *Autobiography* how Comte "put an end to the notion that no
effectual moral authority can be maintained over society without the aid
of religious belief."[^62] But Mill finds no reason whatsoever to accept
the continual infringements on "liberty and spontaneity" that the
Spiritual Power would exercise.[^63] This is contrary to Mill's
fundamental commitment to liberalism as the foundation of human
progress.

Even more importantly, there is no justification for Comte's
prescriptions internal to the system itself. Comte claims to be
extrapolating the historical movements he observed to their logical
conclusion. Mill, however, can not "see any scientific connection
between his theoretical explanation of the past progress of society and
his proposals for future improvement."[^64] Instead, Mill finds the most
plausible explanation to emerge out of Comte's "personal experience and
inspiration."[^65] This is clearly an example of Mill applying his new
methodology, in part adapted from Comte, to Comte himself. By moving the
field of analysis from the content of the religion to the motivations
which structure its arguments, he discerns what he intuited had been
Comte's real purpose all along. Comte is a "morality-intoxicated man,"
obsessed with the idea of social unity for its own sake. This obsession
is the extrinsic motivation to the relentless "systematizing,
systematizing, systematizing"[^66] that Mill finds so undesirable. Thus
being the case that the core of Comte's project is not science at all,
but a powerful conviction, Mill puts himself in the position to argue
for the superiority of his own convictions: the appeal to his expanded
notions of utility.

We ­­­have already seen the relation of Mill's discovery of the efficacy of
conviction to his concern with history and tradition. But we have also
seen how history and tradition as abstract notions do not adequately
settle the questions of ends within a society. Comte's Religion of
Humanity addressed these concerns; but he attached his convictions to a
science. It is evident how his personal ends combined with the
scientific means pushed his ideas to the outermost limits of
plausibility. Mill designed his own Religion of Humanity to avoid these
criticisms. History finds its place, but it is a significantly different
type of history than Comte's. Where Comte's positive historical project
drew forth a system from the mechanisms of historical development, Mill
requires an altogether different attitude towards history and its
interpretation.

The difference arises due to the presence of a distinctly negative
attitude in Mill's view of history. Just as received religion can retard
social progress, and must be liberalized, so can Comtean history. Mill's
inverse deductive, or historical, method is a way out of that bind.
Instead of taking history as a given, Mill takes the view that

> if a sociological theory, collected from historical evidence,
> contradicts the established general laws of human nature; if\...it
> implies, in the mass of mankind, any very decided natural bent, either
> in a good or bad direction; if it supposes that the reason, in average
> human beings, predominates over the desires, or the disinterested
> desires over the personal; we may know that history has been
> misinterpreted, and that the theory is false. On the other hand, if
> laws of social phaenomena, empirically generalized from history, can
> when once suggested be affiliated to the known laws of human nature;
> if the direction actually taken by the developments and changes of
> human society, can be seen to be such as the properties of man and of
> his dwelling place made antecedently probable, the empirical
> generalizations are raised into positive laws, and sociology becomes a
> science.[^67]

By postulating universal laws of human nature, a sociologist can take a
critical view of history. Thus, an interpretation of history can be
wrong if it is not in accord with universal laws of human nature. In
principle, this type of sociology can be made into a science, given a
knowledge of such laws. But though this would seem out of place with
Mill's previous predilection towards system-bashing, Mill does not say
that such a system exists presently. The science of society is only a
possibility, whose uncertainty gives Mill the negative authority to
rebut supposedly complete systems like Comte's so long as they do not
promise to maximize utility in the largest sense.[^68]

This same spirit is also found in Mill's own Religion of Humanity. Just
as Comte replaces God with Humanity at the end of history, Mill replaces
It with the history of the human species. In Mill's view, history has
already given us a workable system of morality, a pure form of the
Christian doctrine found in the Gospels. These truths have become "the
property of humanity, and cannot now be lost by anything short of a
return to primaeval barbarism."[^69] Mankind cannot be assumed to be
idiots, unwilling to learn from past mistakes. On "any hypothesis short
of that," man can learn to obey utility. The very survival of Christian
morality indicates to Mill that this has happened in the past. In other
words, mankind has *already* begun to develop the "intermediate
principles" of utility the completion of which is predicted in the
*Logic*.[^70]

By this reasoning, Mill has no doubt that society can find a source of
belief in tradition, without any help from supernatural sanctions. He
cites the Romans as perfect examples of men who treated their country as
a religion. Now, the nationalistic sentiments he praised in "Coleridge"
can be extended to encompass the world. A new set of "religious" beliefs
would be nurtured by society itself, centering around an "absolute
obligation towards the universal good." The promise of a future life
would be relinquished for a place in the grand never-ending progress of
human history. Man could derive satisfaction from the approbation of
those he respects, men both "living and dead" who have sacrificed the
private to the public good: "Socrates, Howard, Washington, Antonius, and
Christ" among them.[^71]

Mill finds his Religion to be superior to Comte's because it places more
responsibility in mankind's own ability to make the correct choices,
given sufficient time. It does not attempt to force a future society on
a present that is not prepared to accept it. Mill's Religion of Humanity
might then be distinguished mainly by its very "futurity." Another look,
however, reminds us that Mill does not intend the religion to be a mere
ideal unreachable by human agency. Though the morality of the future
cannot be imposed upon the present as a completed system, Chapter 11 of
the *Logic of the Moral Sciences* reminds us that the present can be
prepared to receive the future by the efforts of talented individuals.
Mill's whole project, from the negative destruction of history to the
positive construction of a new form of utility as a social goal, can be
seen as establishing a set of critical tools to bring about such
preparation. With means and ends well defined, Mill can take on present
social institutions with confidence and greater persuasive force.

It would not be too much of a stretch to argue that, had he been asked
the question directly, Mill would insist that the future can act as a
source of inspiration to the present only if one can postulate a
plausible transition between them. At least such a principle would apply
quite well to the English people, his primary audience, who in Mill's
time held a great love for the status quo. Mill noted in his diary that
the English resist even changes that would "improve as well as to
preserve," their desire for practical change existing only "in
theory."[^72] Comte clearly failed to address these complications of
social prescription, seeing as he could not explain exactly why his
reforms would be better for society. He especially refused to take the
national character of the English in to account, presenting a sudden
change even for them as inevitable and plausible. Mill, on the other
hand, has strong convictions that an altruistic sentiment in mankind can
be brought about, as well as justified, for most societies by an appeal
to utility. But this can only be brought to fruition in the present if
he can make it seem like a *gentle shift* in public opinion rather than
the imposition of an overbearing social theory.

The first step in emphasizing such a gentle shift is to mitigate the
radical reputation of utilitarianism. One of the main objections Mill
addresses in "Utilitarianism" is that mankind is not naturally virtuous
enough to accept the new utility as a standard of morals. It is too high
a standard for mankind as a whole. Mill does not accept this criticism.
In fact, the utility criterion can be easily weakened in order to allow
its introduction. It is to misunderstand "the very meaning of a standard
of morals" to "confound the rule of action with the motive of it." In
fact, "ninety-nine one hundredths of our actions are done from other
motives, and rightly so if the rule of duty does not condemn them."[^73]
Thus, there is no need to always think for the good of everyone if, in
benefiting himself, "he is not violating their rights, that is, the
legitimate and authorized expectations, of anyone else."[^74] It is not
coincidental that these requirements remind us of the liberty principle
found in the essay *On Liberty*. But seeing the principle within the
context of the "religious" thought makes one conjecture if the negative
implementation of the liberty principle, intended by Mill as an ideal to
which society should aspire (i.e., the liberalization of society from
custom and anti-progressive traditions) would have to occur
simultaneously with the positive implementation of the Religion to some
extent. Otherwise, the nightmare of selfishness which he describes in
chapter 4 of *Liberty* might remain a reality for him.

Mill is critical of Comte for his tendencies to see everything as
pertaining to morality. Just as Novalis calls Spinoza a "God-intoxicated
man," Mill labels Comte a "morality-intoxicated man."[^75] The creed of
Comte's religion of humanity, "*vivre pour autrui*," cannot allow any
other reason for acting than that of the good of others. This is an
unreasonable demand to make upon men unused to such behavior. If men are
imperfect at this point in their history, one cannot expect them to act
like saints. But one cannot expect them to live morally without some
sense of duty. Thus, Mill must call upon his expanded form of utility,
which he claims to be by no means lax with regard to just actions. His
most impassioned pleas in defense of utility stress its ultimate
compatibility with religious goals of duty and virtue. He insists that
utilitarianism must not be seen as a "*godless* doctrine." For, "if it
be true that God desires, above all things, the happiness of his
creatures, and that this was his purpose in their creation, utility is
not only not a godless doctrine, but more profoundly religious than any
other."[^76] This reminds us of Mill's similar praise of the Religion of
Humanity as a "better religion than any of those which are ordinarily
called by that title."[^77]

We have already seen how the Religion serves as a critical outlook
rather than a doctrine. This notion can now be augmented the observation
that the Religion gives us a way of interpreting what God said, rather
than accepting dogma. This is what, in fact, makes it "better." The
negative destruction in the *Logic* allows Mill to clear away older
ideas; and the new doctrine of utility becomes the theoretical
foundation of a new set of hermeneutic principles. Others besides
utilitarians

> have been of opinion that the Christian revelation was intended, and
> is fitted, to inform the hearts and minds of mankind with a spirit
> which should enable them to find for themselves what is right, and
> incline them to do it when found, rather than to tell them, except in
> a very general way, what it is; and that we need a doctrine of ethics,
> carefully followed out, to *interpret* to us the will of God.[^78]

Thus, utility, and not the arbitrary will of an unprincipled social
planner, can now serve as the best way to glean out what is best in the
present, and what should be left behind as mankind's opinions, feelings,
and morals evolve.

There is one proviso, however, which must be accounted for within this
plan. Amidst a discussion in *August Comte and Positivism* concerning
the sanctity of the "personal enjoyments" with regard to external
interference, he singles out one, and only one, exception to the general
principle. There is "only one passion or inclination," he notes, "which
is permanently incompatible with this condition." This is "the love of
domination, or superiority, for its own sake; which implies, and is
grounded on the equivalent depression of other people."[^79] Though
personal life is shielded from political interference, or depoliticized,
by the assertion of liberal rights, Mill implies that some "personal"
aspects of behavior cannot be shielded altogether from judgement. Here,
the gradualism of Mill's "religious" doctrines is complemented by the
recognition that progress will not come about unaided by the principled
*interpretation* of society. Numerous textual references imply that Mill
intends such interpretation to be carried out by some talented
individual.

Such a person has another requirement besides talent, however. He or she
must fully understand the subtleties of cultural life in order to probe
its inconsistencies effectively. Thus it the job of the *cultural
critic*, and not the political theorist, to use this tool to spur
mankind's personal development. The critic, according to Mill's
conception, carefully dissects the existing moral tendencies in society.
These are the "promises" we make "either expressly or tacitly" in daily
life, but do not always keep.[^80] The critic lives to notice such small
inconsistencies. In this way, criticism can mitigate the evils of purely
self-interested behavior by "cultivating the habitual wish to share with
others" without demanding a complete shift in current behavior.
Moreover, it can discern the patterns of domination, the "worship of
power," which remain in personal life even after its seeming
disappearance from the political.

The essay on the "Subjection of Women" addresses these two concerns and
shows how their compatibility with one another can serve as a basis for
cultural criticism. I will finish this paper by showing briefly how the
essay incorporates the elements of Mill's positive and negative projects
in its critique of the domination of women *within* the personal sphere
protected by liberal rights. Mill sees the subjection of women in a
fashion analogous to the way he sees supernatural religion. They are
both holdovers from a benighted age, sanctified by years of traditional
usage, and up until now impervious to rational criticism. As such, both
of these two cultural phenomena stand in the way of the progress of
mankind. My aim is to integrate the essay on women, often separated from
the rest of Mill's work, with the "religious" writings. I argue that the
apparent heterogeneity of the so-called "two Mills" can only be
sustained if it neglects the clear unity of purpose, and critical
method, in the later writings.

\* \* \* \* \* \*

Mill's concern with women must be seen in the light of his concerns with
domination. Basically, women are utterly and completely dominated by men
within the confines of the "mutual" conjugal relationship. They are not
allowed to work, or own property that the husband cannot control. He
even has total control over the fate of the children, whom she is
responsible for raising. Moreover, a woman is subject to her husband's
every whim, compelled to clean his house and address his sexual needs.
Thus, while she has the political status of a slave, her actual plight
is much worse. Slaves have traditionally held certain rights, especially
with regard to matters unconnected with their roles as laborers. Women,
on the other hand, must invest every waking moment, their private as
well as their public life, to the care of the husband. This "primitive
state of slavery" is exactly the type of domination in the realm of
"personal enjoyments" that Mill condemned in his discussions of
Comte.[^81]

This situation is made more reprehensible by the fact that these customs
are sanctioned under the auspices of tradition. There was a time when
the domination was transparent, the forced cooption of women into
marriage being the norm. But because

> these various enormities have fallen into disuse (for most of them
> were never truly abolished, or not until they had long ceased to be
> practised) men suppose that all is now as it should be in regard to
> the marriage contract; and we are continually told that civilization
> and Christianity have restored to the woman her just rights.[^82]

In other words, the outward signs of female subjection have been
obscured by historical providence. The private subjection remains in
force, however obscured underneath the veils of legal equality and
rights-based political systems. Thus, for Mill, the "woman question"
falls in the sphere of public opinion and personal feelings. But this
makes it almost impervious to rational attack. A case

> supported on one hand by universal usage, and on the other by so great
> a preponderance of popular sentiment, is supposed to have a
> presumption in its favour, superior to any conviction which an appeal
> to reason has power to produce in any intellects but those of a high
> class.[^83]

Convictions cannot be changed through an argument solely based on
rational considerations. This is especially so when society has built up
a battery of justifications for the persistence of an arbitrary custom.
It is for this reason that he must have recourse to the power of the
critical tools developed in the *Logic*. The arguments Mill presents in
defense of the subjection of women fall into two general categories:
those from history, and those from insight into the female nature. By
the use of the inverse deductive (historical) and the ethological
methods, Mill is able to refute the less rigorous reasonings that led to
these arguments in the first place.

The historical argument would like to claim that if a set of customs and
laws have existed until the present day, then this must be because of
their "conduciveness to the happiness and well being" of all human
beings.[^84] In the present case, the marriage customs clearly
represented the true interests of man and woman. Mill sees this,
however, as a paradigm case of a society choosing to forget the
historical movements that originally brought the customs into being. In
fact, Mill asserts, the domination of women is based upon the ancient
rule of the strongest. Society can only "flatter" itself into thinking
that the rule of force is obsolete, and that present institutions were
preserved by "a well grounded feeling of its adaptation to human nature"
and a concern for the general good. Instead, people have lost "all
practical sense of the primitive condition of humanity; and only the few
who have studied history accurately... are able to form any mental
picture of what society once was." In actuality, "history gives a cruel
experience of human nature" dominated by force.[^85] This revision of
commonly accepted history is nothing but the inverse deductive method
employed in its negative form. By showing that received history is based
on a limited conception of human nature, its defense of male domination
is groundless.

Once Mill has dispensed with the historical argument, there still remain
the arguments insisting that various aspects of the female "nature"
encouraged the development of current institutions and customs. First of
all, some say that this domination of women is not the same as the
political notion of "usurpation," because, unlike the illegitimate
taking of power implied in that term, the case with women is
"natural."[^86] That is, their subjection can be seen as being in accord
with the inherent order of the universe. But, Mill responds, "was there
ever any domination which did not appear natural to those who possessed
it." Given enough time, custom becomes accepted as natural. The "nature
of women," then, must be seen "an eminently artificial thing... no other
class of dependents have had their *character* so entirely distorted
from its natural proportions by their relation with their masters."[^87]

This passage contains two key features which reveal the theoretical
foundation of Mill's argument. The most recognizable is his use of the
technical term "character" when discussing the general personality
traits of women. More subtle, though superficially more jarring, is his
use of the word "natural" to describe the female character immediately
after showing its nature to be, in actuality, radically "artificial."
The most plausible way to reconcile this apparent contradiction is to
realize that Mill is comparing a false account of human nature to a true
one.

This true account of human nature was promised in the *Logic*, in the
chapter on ethology, though it had not been completed as of Mill's
death. But even without such a positive doctrine already in existence,
Mill can use ethology in the same negative fashion as he used the
inverse deductive method in the preceding argument. The rigorous nature
of his scientific method, as well his awareness of its limitations, lets
him assert with some confidence that

> the profoundest knowledge of the laws of the formation of character is
> indispensable to entitle any one to affirm even that there is any
> difference, much more what the difference is, between the two sexes
> considered as moral and rational beings; and since no one, as yet, has
> that knowledge\... no one is thus far entitled to any positive opinion
> on the subject. Conjectures are all that can at present be made;
> conjectures more or less probable, according as more or less
> authorized by such knowledge as we yet have of the laws of psychology,
> as applied to the formation of character.[^88]

No one as has yet been able to carry out the social experiments Mill
discusses at the beginning of the essay. Most likely, no one will ever
do so, if Mill's observations in the *Logic are* taken to their full
extent. Thus, we arrive at the same impasse encountered in his previous
works. A new scientific method for the future is introduced solely in
order to undermine the validity of all present ones. The only guide to
the present is the conviction of Mill the critic, armed with a positive
project for cultural transformation. While he cannot defend his views
about women theoretically, "it must be remembered that the contrary
doctrine also has only theory to rest upon..."[^89] This also cannot but
remind us of his arguments for the adoption of utility.

Even beyond the basic methodology which replaces a grand unified theory
with principles for future theories, there is a further similarity of
the means prescribed in *Subjection* to those presented in the
"religious" writings. Once again, the benefits which appear to lie in
the future are shown to exist already, to a certain extent. Mill sees
societies based upon "command and obedience" as becoming more and more
"exceptional facts in life," with "equal association it general rule."
Moreover, the world is "entering into an order of things in which
justice will again be the primary virtue; grounded as before on equal,
but now also on sympathetic association." This is a message preaching a
"gentle shift" in opinion, portraying it as an conceivable step in the
progress of mankind towards "an equal measure being extended to
all."[^90] Men have already promised each other to uphold the values of
justice and equality. Mill's arguments have shown that there is no
reason which nature or history can supply that should prevent them from
extending the same promise to all people, including women. He does not
have to specify exactly how this "equal measure" will be enforced.
Instead, he sets a general principle, that "these things...might with
perfect safety be left to be regulated by opinion, without any
interference by law."[^91] Though this goal is well in line with his
aims for the religion, in that it seeks to change the cultural
foundations of society, it could be read by some as moving dangerously
close to Comte's illiberal views. Maurice Cowling, for instance, is of
the opinion that the Religion is "a socially cohesive, morally
insinuating, proselytizing *doctrine*." To him, Mill was "a proselytizer
of genius: the ruthless denigrator of existing positions, the systematic
propagator of a new moral posture, a man of sneers and smears and
pervading certainty."[^92]

Such a criticism cannot hold, if the arguments presented in this essay
are plausible. Mill's arguments are profoundly anti-systemic, proposing
a possible future so that the critic can act effectively in the present
*without* having to propose a complete system. As opposed to imposing a
"doctrine" on society from above, the weaker, negative part of the
project lays the true groundwork of cultural reform. Surely, "to see the
futurity of the species has always been the privilege of the
intellectual elite."[^93] But to see the future as the inevitable
successor of the present, like Comte, leads the theorist to ignore the
concrete details of the present. Without a powerful negative project to
dismantle key assumptions of popular argument, the theorist has no way
to bring people to the point of considering other beliefs. But without a
gentle positive program to coax the present into the future, he runs the
risk of giving them no incentive to accept his criticisms as beneficial.
Both of these elements can be found in the Religion of Humanity and the
"Subjection of Women." The difference between them is the same which
separates a theory from its application in the real world. That is,
being two aspects of a single political-philosophical project, it makes
little sense to separate the one essay from Mill's entire corpus, as
would be required by Gertrude Himmelfarb's thesis.[^94]

\* \* \* \* \* \*

The integration of the essay on women into the later writings emphasizes
the point which I have made throughout this essay: that John Stuart
Mill's later writings evince a clear unity of purpose. To read
*Subjection* without the insights presented in the Logic would make for
an incomplete and possibly inaccurate interpretation of Mill's
arguments. Thus, I have presented Mill's "religious" texts (a tag which
comprehends all of the works discussed in this essay) as a two pronged
critical method with the hope of demonstrating the cohesiveness of
seemingly divergent ideas. The first prong is the negative critique of
normative social science, traditional religion, and received custom
which functions through postulating ideal knowledge in the future. The
second is the positive and normative mode of conviction. This aspect of
Mill's theory takes advantage of the indeterminacy brought about by the
negative project in order to present his more radical views as better
than existing social norms, or at the very least not incompatible with
them. Given two such different, yet compatible, projects, reading any of
Mill's texts presents the reader with the task of keeping track of the
use of both positive and negative modes of argument even within a single
sentence. To otherwise confuse or conflate this distinction between
negative criticism and positive conviction makes Mill's views seem weak,
or even undesirable.

The literature criticizing Mill's conceptions of both liberalism and
religion is rife with "half truths" about his general intentions. On one
hand, Cowling's interpretation of Mill's new religion as replacing a
political autocracy with a cultural one ignores the negative aspects of
his arguments. Mill truly believes that the Religion of Humanity can,
should, and might exist in a future state of society; but it cannot, and
should not, be instituted all at once. Neglecting to account for the
futurity of Mill's positive project makes Mill seem more like Comte than
the texts themselves actually imply. On the other hand, to read a text
such as *On Liberty* as a purely negative doctrine, as Berlin or
Himmelfarb do, cannot account for many passages in this work that
unequivocally demand deep cultural reform based on the prescriptions
implicit in the Religion.[^95] Given the strength of traditional
religion Mill perceived in his own time, it is no wonder that he had to
break up his arguments into fragments dispersed among so many different
texts. In our more "secular" age, however, it is incumbent for us to
read him sympathetically and fit the pieces together. There is no excuse
for bending Mill's highly complex message into simple and digestible
fragments in order to serve a political agenda.

Only in the future society postulated in Mill's theory will negative and
positive criticism, ends and means, organic and critical societies ---
distinctions reflecting two sides of a larger and ultimately historical
human experience --- be reconciled through the institution of the
Religion of Humanity. With such reconciliation nowhere on the immediate
horizon, however, the critic's job becomes twofold. First, the critic as
philosopher must make the separation clear between prescription and
description in assessments of current institutions. Doing such makes it
possible to discover the most effective ways of realizing his or her
ideals. But merely to forge a conceptual framework does not bring it to
bear on the real world. The critic's other task is explicitly political,
requiring the incorporation of conviction into actual political
discourse, and thus runs up against new difficulties. Conviction has
never been the most secure way to buttress opinions that demand
widespread changes for society. Few have contested that arguments should
be supported by reasons, not through sheer force of belief (or even
faith.) It is easy, then, to imagine that most people would respond
negatively to Mill's views if presented as only convictions. Thus,
instead of making things clearer, the effective critic as politician
must learn how to conflate the above distinctions in his or her public
discourse in order to make these ideals palatable to a skeptical
audience. Though I have addressed this aspect of Mill's arguments in the
discussions of conviction and the incrementalism implied in the "gentle
shift," there is more to be said. That, however, is the subject of
another essay altogether.

[BIBLIOGRAPHY]{.underline}:

Berlin, Isaiah. "John Stuart Mill and the Ends of Life" in *Four Essays
on Liberty*. (Oxford, 1969.)

Cowling, Maurice. *Mill and Liberalism*. (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1990.)

Eisenach, Edwin. "Mill's Autobiography as Political Theory," History of
Political Thought, Vol. VIII, No. 1, Spring 1987.

Eisenach, Edwin. *Two Worlds of Liberalism*. (Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1981.)

Glassman, Peter. *J.S. Mill: The Evolution of a Genius*. (Gainesville:
University of Florida Press, 1985)

Hayek, F.A. *John Stuart Mill and Harriet Taylor: Their Friendship and
Subsequent Marriage.* (New York: Augustus M. Kelly, 1951.)

Himmelfarb, Gertrude. *On Liberty & Liberalism*. (San Francisco: ICS
Press, 1990.)

Mill, John Stuart.

> ---"Utilitarianism." George Sher, ed. (Indianapolis: Hackett
> Publishers, 1979.)
>
> ---*Auguste Comte and Positivism*. (Ann Arbor, 1961.)
>
> ---*Autobiography*. John M. Robson, ed. (New York: Penguin, 1989.)
>
> ---*Essays on Politics and Culture*. Gertrude Himmelfarb, ed.
> (Glouchester: Peter Smith, 1973.)
>
> ---*On Liberty and other writings*. Stefan Collini, ed. (Cambridge,
> Cambridge University Press, 1989.)
>
> ---*The Collected Works of John Stuart Mill*. John Robson, ed. (29
> vols., Toronto and London: University of Toronto Press, 1963-90.)
>
> ---*Three Essays on Religion*. (Ann Arbor, 1961.)

Wright, T.R. *The Religion of Humanity: The Impact of Comtean Positivism
on Victorian Britain*. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989.)



[^1]: John Stuart Mill, *Autobiography*, John M. Robson, ed. (New York:
    Penguin, 1989), p. 50.

[^2]: Ibid., p. 47.

[^3]: Ibid., p. 52.

[^4]: Ibid., p. 129.

[^5]: Ibid., p. 111.

[^6]: Ibid., p. 112.

[^7]: Ibid., p. 114.

[^8]: Ibid., p. 118.

[^9]: John Stuart Mill, "Coleridge," in Gertrude Himmelfarb, ed. *Essays
    on Politics and Culture* (Glouchester: Peter Smith, 1973), p. 167.

[^10]: "Bentham," (Same as for "Coleridge") p. 84.

[^11]: BENTHAM FOOTNOTE

[^12]: ANOTHER FOOTNOTE

[^13]: AND ANOTHER; WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?

[^14]: STOP FUCKING UP

[^15]: Ibid., p. 95.

[^16]: Ibid., p. 97.

[^17]: DID YOU CITE ANYTHING

[^18]: "Coleridge", p.136.

[^19]: Ibid.

[^20]: Ibid., p. 138.

[^21]: Ibid., p. 143.

[^22]: COLERIDGE NOTE

[^23]: *The Collected Works of John Stuart Mill*, ed. John Robson (29
    vols., Toronto and London: University of Toronto Press, 1963-90),
    vol. VIII, p. 838.

[^24]: Ibid., p. 841.

[^25]: Ibid., p. 843.

[^26]: Ibid., p. 851.

[^27]: Ibid., p. 849.

[^28]: Ibid., p. 847.

[^29]: Ibid., p. 865.

[^30]: Ibid., p. 872f.

[^31]: Ibid., p. 877.

[^32]: Ibid., p. 911.

[^33]: Ibid., p. 912.

[^34]: Ibid., p. 926.

[^35]: Ibid., p. 947.

[^36]: Ibid., p. 948.

[^37]: DIARY FOOTNOTE

[^38]: *CW* VIII., p. 951.

[^39]: Mill, "Utilitarianism," ed. George Sher (Indianapolis: Hackett
    Publishers, 1979), p. 5.

[^40]: Ibid., p. 36.

[^41]: *Autobiography*, p. 114.

[^42]: "Utilitarianism," p. 30. Emphasis added. It should be noted that
    Edwin Eisenach in his essay "Mill's *Autobiography* as Political
    Theory,"*History of Political Thought*, Vol. VIII, No. 1, Spring
    1987, first noticed the similarity of language between these two
    passages. However, the analysis in this essay is somewhat different
    than his.

[^43]: What I have not explained, however, is exactly *why* Mill came to
    see the social feelings as a primary motivation in human life. There
    are studies which try account for this, the most forceful
    attributing its prominence in Mill's later works to the posthumous
    influence of his wife. More notable among these is F.A. Hayek's
    *John Stuart Mill and Harriet Taylor: Their Friendship and
    Subsequent Marriage.* (New York: Augustus M. Kelly, 1951.) Peter
    Glassman's *J.S. Mill: The Evolution of a Genius* (Gainesville:
    University of Florida Press, 1985) also addresses the "Harriet
    Question" in some detail. I do not have the space to account for
    this transformation in any detail. Still, it cannot be denied that
    there are no arguments explaining Mill's convictions within the
    texts mentioned here. My aim is instead to show how the way he
    argues for his convictions fits into the two part methodology of the
    "religious" works.

[^44]: *Autobiography*, p.30.

[^45]: Ibid., p. 31.

[^46]: Ibid., p. 40.

[^47]: Mill, "Utility of Religion," in *Three Essays on Religion* (Ann
    Arbor, 1961), p. 104.

[^48]: Ibid., p. 78.

[^49]: Ibid., p. 81.

[^50]: Ibid., p. 84.

[^51]: Ibid., p. 87.

[^52]: "Utilitarianism," p. 14f..

[^53]: Mill, Diary, January 15, 1854. CW XXVII, p. 643.

[^54]: COMTE FOOTNOTE

[^55]: *Autobiography*, p. 52.

[^56]: "Utility of Religion," p. 99.

[^57]: Ibid., p. 112.

[^58]: Ibid., p. 113.

[^59]: "Bentham," p.110. *Auguste Comte and Positivism* (Ann Arbor,
    1961), p. 98.

[^60]: "Utilitarianism," p. 17.

[^61]: *Comte*, p. 133.

[^62]: *Autobiography*, p. 164.

[^63]: *Comte*, p. 123.

[^64]: Ibid., p. 118.

[^65]: Ibid., p. 131.

[^66]: COMTE NOTE

[^67]: Ibid., p. 86.

[^68]: From this point on, I will use the unqualified term "utility" in
    referring to the doctrine developed in "Utilitarianism." Bentham's
    utility is associated with what John Rawls calls "classical
    utilitarianism."

[^69]: "Utility of Religion," p. 98.

[^70]: "Utilitarianism," p. 23.

[^71]: "Utility of Religion," p. 109.

[^72]: Diary: January 17, 1854, CW XXVII p. 644.

[^73]: "Utilitarianism," p. 17.

[^74]: Ibid, 19.

[^75]: *Comte*, p. 138ff.

[^76]: "Utilitarianism," p. 21.

[^77]: "Utility of Religion," p. 110.

[^78]: "Utilitarianism," p. 21. Emphasis added.

[^79]: Ibid.

[^80]: *Comte*, p. 144f.

[^81]: Mill, *The* *Subjection of Women*, in *On Liberty and other
    writings*, ed. Stefan Collini (Cambridge, Cambridge University
    Press, 1989), p. 123.

[^82]: Ibid., p. 147.

[^83]: Ibid., p. 121.

[^84]: SUBJECTION NOTE

[^85]: Ibid., p. 125.

[^86]: Ibid., p. 130.

[^87]: Ibid., p. 138. Emphasis added.

[^88]: Ibid., p. 140. T.R. Wright, in his book *The Religion of
    Humanity: The Impact of Comtean Positivism on Victorian Britain*
    (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989) also notes that the
    *Subjection* "harps back to the science of ethology which had been
    spurned by Comte." (48)

[^89]: Ibid., p. 137.

[^90]: Ibid., p. 159.

[^91]: Ibid., p. 165.

[^92]: Maurice Cowling, *Mill and Liberalism.* (Cambridge: Cambridge
    University Press, 1990), p. 93.

[^93]: *Subjection*, p. 160.

[^94]: Gertrude Himmelfarb, *On Liberty & Liberalism*. (San Francisco:
    ICS Press, 1990).

[^95]: Isaiah Berlin, "John Stuart Mill and the Ends of Life" in *Four
    Essays on Liberty* (Oxford, 1969)