In trying to estimate the work of a particular philosopher it seems natural enough to begin with a description of the history and circumstances of the man himself. And yet it is almost invariably the case that most, if not all, of these biographical items are gradually lost sight of as the main business of interpreting and criticizing advances. We include our knowledge of the man in an introductory chapter, and rarely, if ever, refer to it. As a result, the philosopher and his work seem to be things apart. The work becomes a contribution to philosophy, distinguished, in a personal sense, from other contributions by little more than the convenient symbol of its author's name.

There has been a great deal of valuable work done in the department of Social Philosophy in recent years; and, though much of it has been of a controversial character, it seems possible to indicate some leading conceptions about which there is not now very much difference of opinion, and which may be taken as furnishing a firm basis for future work. Many of the older conceptions—such as the Divine Right of Kings, the Social Contract, and the unqualified emphasis on either Liberty or Equality—have either passed into complete oblivion or are maintained in forms so greatly modified as to be hardly recognizable. Some others are perhaps just on the point of disappearing; but the following conceptions and special problems in which they are involved may be singled out as still retaining a certain degree of vitality.

“No man can see farther into a generalization than his knowledge of detail extends.” That saying of William James is true of all the branches of science; but it has a special value for students of social philosophy. Social life is so obviously a matter of personal experience that an academic Robinson Crusoe may easily be less competent in his knowledge of detail than a business man, if the business man thinks at all. This is not a compliment to the business man, nor an insult to the academic scholar; for the majority of those who deal with practical issues seem to be far more incompetent than the majority of scholars. But it is essential for social philosophy that practical experience of some kind should be used. Indeed, just as a student of chemistry nowadays depends at every step upon experiment, so a student of social life should take care to play a part in some form of active social life, whether as directing, co-operating, or obeying. One cannot get chemistry out of books; still less can one find social philosophy there. Therefore the number of books written or read is no criterion of the vigour of social philosophy in any generation—it is so easy to write books about other books, and so easy to read the same material many times.

The purpose of the following article is to suggest certain problems, rather than to offer philosophical solutions of problems. I propose to state certain questions which are sometimes asked and to try to say both (a) why it is important that they should be asked, and (b) why, if we do ask them, we should endeavour to answer them as accurately as we can. A full discussion of what the true answers to the questions are will be beyond the province of this paper, and, if certain answers are suggested in passing, it will only be because it is difficult to make anything which consists of a mere sequence of questions at all interesting or readable.

The theories of most writers on Ethics, with whose works I am acquainted, appear to be based upon the assumption of the unique character of goodness or The Good. By the word unique these writers mean, I think, among other things that goodness cannot be analysed into or described in terms of anything other than itself, that it can be and is desired for its own sake and not for the sake of some other thing which is not goodness, and that the apprehension of or desire for goodness is a distinct and specific character of our mental states. By asserting, however, that the state of mind constituted by the apprehension of goodness, or that the state of emotion aroused by the desire for goodness, is distinguished by a specific and unique property, they do not, I think, necessarily mean that this property is the same as the specific property of goodness itself. Most writers on Ethics have also believed that man is free to desire goodness, and to act in accordance with his desire, that is to say, they have held in some form or other the doctrine of free-will.

The subject of discussion this evening is “ The Problem of Colour in Relation to the Idea of Equality,” and though the last seven words would seem to indicate some special limitation, it is in fact difficult to divide this question into watertight compartments. For the basis of all philosophical study is accuracy of definition, and we must therefore begin by forming a precise conception of what the phrase “ Colour problem ” connotes before we proceed to discuss its bearing from a physiological, political, or sociological “ equality ” point of view. Thus at the outset we find ourselves in the very heart of a controversy, for it is difficult to find two people who will agree as to the definition of the Colour problem. Physiologically there is no line of demarcation, for of the inhabitants of North Central Asia many are as light—and indeed lighter—in the colour of their skin, their hair and their eyes than the Southern races of Europe, and the same may be true of Creoles, Quadroons, and Octaroons.

Plato, in one of his dialogues (Theœtetus, 155 C–D), says: “ The feeling of wonder is the genuine mark of the philosopher; for philosophy has its origin in wonder.” What Plato here says may be accepted as true: the philosopher does wonder. But the philosopher is not the only man who wonders about things. It might perhaps be going too far to say that all men experience the feeling, for some men seem to plod on their weary round without curiosity enough to wonder at anything, whilst others, being comfortable, are satisfied to take things for granted, and never think of wondering at them.

The words “mind” and “matter” are used glibly, both by ordinary people and by philosophers, without any adequate attempt at definition. Philosophers are much to blame for this. My own feeling is that there is not a sharp line, but a difference of degree; an oyster is less mental than a man, but not wholly un-mental. And I think “ mental ” is a character, like “ harmonious ” or “ complicated,” that cannot belong to a single entity, but only to a system of entities. But before defending this view, I wish to spend some time on traditional theories.

The general goal of psychology is usually the understanding of human behaviour.