Endless Night (Pt. I)

 

 

The Great Infidel

Whereas classical cultural relativism has hints far back in history, the theory being covered in the next two lessons has its origins in the middle and late 18^th century in the work of, happily enough, two best friends: David Hume and Adam Smith. This theory is known as moral sentimentalism, the view that moral judgments and preferences are rooted in our emotions and desires. It can't be avoided to frame this lesson in the context of the friendship between Hume and Smith, since the view really did grow out of their discussions of and elaborations on each other's work. Moreover, their friendship is simply too charming to not mention in this course. So, in this lesson, we will look at the theory as it originated in the work of David Hume and was further developed by Adam Smith. To this end, I will rely heavily on Rasmussen's (2017) The Infidel and the Professor. In the sequel to this lesson we will look at the views that are the descendants of moral sentimentalism—very radical views indeed.

Hume began his philosophical career with the publication of his A Treatise on Human Nature, published in three volumes from 1739-1740. In this work, Hume sought to establish a brand new science of human nature that would undergird all other sciences, since—Hume reasoned—all other sciences rely on human cognition as part of its investigations. Importantly, Hume makes the case that reason cannot truly take us to a complete knowledge of the world, as René Descartes famously believed. Rather, he believed that the experimental method is the only appropriate way. In this method, Hume himself acknowledged that he was not the first—counting John Locke, Mandeville (see The Mind's I), and Joseph Butler as predecessors. But Hume took it far further than they did.

Hume concluded that if we reject the idea of courageous reasoning, then it turns out we can know very little about the world and ourselves with certainty. Hume's conclusions must've been extremely disconcerting to readers in the 18^th century. For example, here are some things that we cannot be certain about per Hume: the reality of the external world, the constancy and permanence of the self, and that the laws of causation (cause and effect) are real. In early editions of the Treatise Hume even had sections denying the existence of souls and arguments against the reality of miracles—sections he had to omit for fear of repercussions. In the end, Hume concluded, all that reason can come to know on its own are mathematical propositions and axioms of pure logic.¹

Rasmussen points out that the great diminution of the role of reason in Hume’s system correlates with an expansion of the roles of custom, habit, the passions (what today we would call emotion), and the imagination. Moreover, Rasmussen notes that since Hume doesn’t include the supernatural as part of his explanatory scheme, the work is purely secular. Thus, Hume is implicitly making the case that God isn’t necessary when explaining human nature—an invitation to accusations of atheism that would cause trouble for Hume throughout his life.

In volume 3 of the Treatise, which was the volume that was added later, Hume gives his views on morality (also without need of God). Virtues are merely those character traits that we collectively have deemed to have utility (i.e., usefulness) in society and in our interpersonal relationships. We are predisposed somehow to find these agreeable, and to find vices disagreeable—an extremely interesting argument given that this is all before Darwin's theory of evolution. It is our passions that flare up when they perceive virtue or vice, feeling approbation (i.e., a feeling of approval) for the former and disapprobation for the latter.

Unfortunately for Hume, the Treatise fell “deadborn in the press”, failing to secure commercial success. Hume then became a tutor and then a secretary to a distant relative during a military campaign. He then returned to Ninewells, his family's estate, and began working on the Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding, a rewrite of Book 1 of the Treatise. Whereas Hume says he deliberately “castrated” the Treatise, ridding it of its most controversial sections, Hume left them in the Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding. And so we know his views on, for example, miracles. Hume also delivers his objection to intelligent design in this first Enquiry. Put simply, Hume says we cannot rationally infer from the imperfect nature of our world that there is a perfectly knowledgeable and loving creator—the lamentable aspects of this world are too numerous to justify this inference. Moreover, even if we did infer some intelligent designer, there is no way to move from this belief to other religious doctrines, such as the existence of heaven and hell. Again, a skeptic until the end, Hume does not argue that God and heaven don’t exist; just that you can’t know that they do if they exist. They are untestable and, hence, useless hypotheses.

It was apparently during his time at Oxford in the 1740s that Adam Smith encountered the work of Hume—work that had been gaining notoriety the more that Hume published. Humorously, it appears that Smith was even caught by the inquisitor at Oxford reading the scandalous Treatise. In any case, despite what the inquisitor might've said to Smith, it seems that Smith did take up some of Hume’s ideas. As evidence, Rasmussen cites Smith’s earliest surviving essay, The principles which lead and direct philosophical inquiries. In it, Smith reliably downplays the role of reason, both in its role as a motivating force as well as in its capacity—just like Hume. According to Smith, science is primarily driven by an attempt to alleviate the disquiet caused in our minds by complex, unexplained phenomena; scientific explanations relieve us of the tension caused by perceived randomness in the world. Moreover, scientific explanations are inventions of the imagination, not known with certainty to correspond to the world itself. Consequently, every scientific theory must remain perpetually open to revision, on the chance that there might be an even better theory eventually. “In Smith's view, then, science is a permanently open-ended activity, one that is prompted by our passions and forged by the imagination” (Rasmussen 2017: 42).²

The astute student might wonder why Smith's controversial views (see especially Footnote 2) didn't relegate him to the same state of opprobrium that Hume suffered. This is because Smith’s Principles stayed in his notebook until after his death. He worked on it periodically and made sure it was only published posthumously. But from our vantage point, we know the truth. Both Hume and Smith’s first works are generally skeptical of the power of reason, an unpopular view at the height of the Enlightenment. Moreover, they both had a deflationary account of natural phenomena and human pursuits, fueled by unflattering psychological accounts—unflattering relative to those accounts of more reason-centered Enlightenment thinkers.

But the two had not yet met. Rasmussen guesses that it was in 1749, while Smith was giving freelance lectures in Edinburgh, that Smith and Hume met. He also speculates as to their first impressions of each other. Hume, although associated with heretical principles, was disarming, jolly, and charismatic. He loved food, drink, and games, especially the card game whist. He was also famously stout but was the first to make a crack about his girth. Smith was tall and slender, and he was reported by many to be absentminded. He also would mumble and laugh to himself, even during church services. In general, Smith was socially awkward, although he improved on that front with age. Obviously, we don't know what they thought of each other when they first met. But we know that they quickly became friends.

 

 

 

The Professor

Smith takes up the chair of moral philosophy at the University of Glasgow in 1752, although he had been appointed to the chair of logic a year earlier but didn’t begin lecturing due to scheduling conflicts in Edinburgh. His course had four parts: natural theology, ethics (which was eventually incorporated into his Theory of Moral Sentiments), jurisprudence, and political economy (which was eventually incorporated into his Wealth of Nations). He immediately turned some heads for multiple reasons. Despite his awkwardness, he was apparently an excellent professor. He also asked to not have to begin lecture with a prayer; he was denied the request. He also discontinued giving religious discourses on Sundays, as the first chair of moral philosophy, Francis Hutcheson, did. Rasmussen reports that, as a result, some considered his principles to be lacking, both for his failing to follow tradition as well as for the company he was beginning to keep—that of David Hume.

Smith's vacating of the chair of logic prompted several of Hume’s friends to suggest he apply for the position. But, for the second time, the clergy vigorously opposed Hume’s appointment and he was denied. Hume never tried again to secure a professorship. Instead, Hume was offered a librarian position in Edinburgh, where he could do research for his History of England, which would earn him fame and wealth. It was around this point that Hume published his Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals, a reworking of his ideas from the third book of the Treatise, as well as his Political Discourses, in which he advanced many arguments similar to what Smith would eventually publish in Wealth of Nations.

Hume's second Enquiry, published in 1751, if anything, was even more scandalous to the clergy and the devout than the Treatise. Hume included more examples of virtues and vices, so as to make his case more clear, and he made the case that many of the qualities of the devout were actually vices: celibacy, fasting, self-denial, humility, and other "monkish" virtues. Hume makes the case that these qualities do not render someone a more valuable member of society, and, thus, are vices. So, Hume once more made the case that religion is superfluous, not being needed at all for explaining natural phenomena; to this he added that it is also pernicious. During all this, Smith seems to have recommended to his students, as we can gather from surviving student notes, several works by Hume. So, for all Hume’s notoriety, Smith didn’t hide their friendship.

Hume and Smith’s friendship grew through the 1750s, with Hume insisting to his friend that he stay whole breaks from classes over in Hume’s Edinburgh—where Hume could make all the books Smith wanted available to him. During this time, Smith’s maid would also insist that Smith kept his own key to his apartment so that she wouldn’t have to wait up for him, since the two friends liked to talk until well past midnight. During the 1750s, Hume’s notoriety for irreligiosity grew, and he was even blocked from taking part in some scholarly societies. The culmination of this growing notoriety was the attempted expulsion of Hume from the Church of Scotland, an attempt which was not successful.

Smith published much less than Hume—only two books—and he lamented that he never got better at writing, unlike his friend. Although today he is associated mostly with his Wealth of Nations, Smith himself considered his Theory of Moral Sentiments, where he expanded upon Hume’s second Enquiry (albeit in a much less provocative way), his best work. Smith argued that it is neither reason nor a god-given moral intuition that leads us to consider one action virtuous and another vicious. Rather, it is our moral sentiments that give rise to moral judgments. We have been predisposed by Nature to feel approbation towards prosocial behaviors and character traits and to feel disapprobation towards antisocial behaviors and character traits.

Some detractors sometimes call this the "boo/hurray" theory of morality, since it’s all just either “Boo!” or “Hurray!” about certain behaviors. This is far from what Smith actually meant. First off, once we have formed our moral preferences, reason does play a role in deciding how to practically bring about the desired virtues we wish to cultivate. Moreover, since we are prone to becoming overly emotional and biased sometimes, Smith argues that we are supposed to take the perspective of an objective observer when forming our moral judgments; that is, we are supposed to empathize with the moral sentiments of an impartial observer so as to know what are virtues and vices in a given social context. So it’s not as simple as saying that whatever you feel is right is right. One must generalize and try to surmise what it is that our collective moral sentiments, or what Hume calls the general point of view, are pointing towards. Those are the true virtues.

It is important to note that, despite their broad agreement, Smith diverges from his friend’s views on four issues, issues which will be covered below.

After the publication of The Theory of Moral Sentiments, Hume wrote a letter to Smith, assessing the latter’s first book. It is one of the most playful letters in the history of philosophy. Hume repeatedly promises to give Smith his assessment but keeps inserting distractions and tangents. In the end, of course, Hume was elated over the success of his friend and told him as much. Moreover, Hume, a true friend, went to great lengths to promote Smith’s book. He sent it to several influential scholars and wrote an anonymous (obviously positive) review.

Moral Sentimentalism

 

 

 

True Friendship

In the 1760s, Smith and Hume spent some time together in London, where we have some humorous reports of Smith's absentmindedness. For example, it appears that he once accidentally made a tea out of his buttered toast. Hume, however, is called back to work for the state and must leave London. It is at this point that Smith begins work on his Wealth of Nations in Kirkcaldy in 1767.

The process for writing Wealth of Nations was long and arduous for Smith. Meanwhile, Hume improved his cooking skills and threw dinner parties in Edinburgh, with Smith sometimes attending (since Hume always had a room ready for him). Hume also acquired several anecdotes during this time. Once, while crossing over a bog, the bridge separated and he got stuck. Some women found him, but after recognizing him, wouldn’t help him out until he said the Lord’s Prayer. Another time in 1771, when Hume moved to a new house on a street that didn’t have a name yet, a woman named Nancy Ord (whom Hume might’ve considered proposing marriage to) wrote on the wall of the house “Saint David’s Street”, an obvious nod to Hume’s fame of impiety. The street retains the name to this day. It was precisely during this time that Hume decided to retire from writing, arguing that he was “too old, too fat, too lazy, and too rich.” Nonetheless, he prodded his friend to continue his writing career, providing papers and sources that Smith might need in writing Wealth of Nations.

Hume undoubtedly read the drafts that were to become Smith's Wealth of Nations. Moreover, it is almost certain that they must've discussed and improved some portions of it. This is because several of the most important points that Smith makes in Wealth of Nations are points made by Hume in his Political Discourses (which Hume published in 1752). Smith, however, greatly expanded on Hume's points. Here are the highlights:

1. Smith argues that commercial society is unequivocally preferable to the alternatives, seeing the downfall of feudalism and the rise of personal Liberty as good things. Commerce, then, is seen as inextricably linked to liberty. The way to maintain this high degree of personal freedom is to ensure that commerce remains healthy and unobstructed. Relatedly, Smith argues that the fall of feudalism was linked to the opulence of the lords, much like Hume argued.
2. Mercantilism, the view that international trade is zero-sum (i.e., my win is your loss), is attacked vigorously by Smith, who argues that nations actually benefit when other nations become wealthier, since they can purchase each other’s goods.
3. Smith also argued against the view that precious metals are wealth. He argued a point that is obvious to us today: true national wealth is an abundance of goods and services. Moreover, personal freedom is the way to assure goods and services will proliferate.

It is important to note here that neither Hume nor Smith were free-market absolutists, arguing that the state should intervene for the sake of national defense, the administration of justice, and the provision of public works. Moreover, they argued for a strong state that could preserve order. They made the case that it was a weak central government that made the feudal era the sad, unfree spectacle that it was. In fact, it is only in market matters where politicians should not interfere, Hume and Smith argued, since this will either be ineffectual or counterproductive. So, if a libertarian ever cites Smith as a free market absolutist, kindly tell them they are mistaken.

It should also be added, however, that Hume and Smith did differ in opinion on some topics. For example, Smith discussed more openly the disadvantages of commerce. Hume did discuss some disadvantages of the commercial societies of his day: namely their imperialistic tendencies and their rapidly mounting public debts. Moreover, Hume argued that the latter caused the former. But Smith took these ideas and developed them further. For example, Smith adds points that Hume didn’t come close to making. In Book IV of Wealth of Nations, Smith argues that labor is toil and oftentimes unenjoyable, and that we spend our wages on trifles that provide only fleeting satisfaction. Smith continues to diverge from Hume by arguing that not only is the pursuit of wealth the engine that drives the economy, but that the public is deluded in thinking that wealth will actually provide happiness. So, the economy is driven by affective forecasting errors, errors about what will make us happy (see The Trolley (Pt. II)).³

Smith goes further still. Smith, unlike Hume, also argues that merchants have a tendency to collude to enrich themselves and hurt the public interest. In fact, Rasmussen reports that some Smith scholars notice a “pathological suspicion” of merchants. Smith also discusses the disparaging effects of the division of labor, not just the good ones. For example, he discusses how working for many decades at only one task will make one as stupid as it is possible to be, unable to carry a conversation, and can even harm his physical well-being. This causes Rasmussen to report about another scholar who wonders why it wasn’t Hume that became the poster child of capitalism, instead of Smith. Indeed, some quotes by Smith (even with context!) seem to come straight out of Marx and Engel's Communist Manifesto!⁴

Lastly on the topic of the drawback of commercial societies, and perhaps the biggest misfit of the popular conception of Smith to actual Smith, Smith claims that commercial society breeds inequality. He argues that for every very rich man there must be 500 very poor ones. Rasmussen also reports that in an early version of the manuscript, Smith writes about how it is those that labor the most that get the least; he also notes that the poor bare the weight of commercial society on their backs. Rasmussen adds a point that Smith made in Theory of Moral Sentiments: that the perceived utility of wealth and status lead the public to want to emulate the rich/powerful and, as a result, they end up despising the poor. So, the poor not only make commercial society function, but they also hold a position of opprobrium within it. In the sixth edition of Wealth of Nations, Smith added that the emulation of the rich is not a good idea since they are typically not good people, and that this emulation is one of the principle causes of moral degradation.

Smith’s Wealth of Nations was an immediate hit, and he received many letters full of praise. In multiple letters, though, there was a melancholy addendum. The message was clear... “Go see your friend. He is dying.”

As Hume’s death approached, he hosted a dinner party for his friends on July 4th, 1776. Naturally, Smith was there. Since Hume was by this point a quite famous and notorious infidel, there was widespread curiosity over his demise: will Hume repent at the last minute? By all accounts (e.g., James Boswell, Smith, Hume’s brother, etc.), Hume remained a skeptic until the very end, dying in as cheerful and tranquil a way as is possible. Though Hume and Smith had seen very little of each other in the three years leading up to Hume’s death, during the writing of Wealth of Nations, they tried to make up for lost time. Smith spent most of the rest of the year at Hume’s home. When he died, Hume said he admitted of only one regret: leaving good friends behind. On 25 August 1776, around 4pm, David Hume, The Great Infidel, died.

Soon after Hume's death, Smith publishes what has come to be known as the Letter to Strahan, which was to be published along with Hume's autobiography—as indicated in Hume's last will and testament. In it, Smith praised his friend, who died an infidel. Consequently, scorn was heaped upon Smith. What incensed most (religious people) is Smith’s claim that Hume was about as virtuous as you could be (and that he accomplished this feat completely without religion!). Moreover, Smith stressed that Hume was tranquil until the very end, never recanting his skepticism. Despite the scorn he received, Smith never retracted the letter nor does he ever mention regretting the publication. It was his last homage to his best friend.

 

 

 

To be continued...

 

FYI

Suggested Viewing: Then and Now, Introduction to Hume's Moral Philosophy

Supplemental Material—

• Video: The School of Life, David Hume

• Video: The School of Life, Adam Smith

Related Material—

• Video: Complexity Explorer, Agent-Based Modeling: What is Agent-Based Modeling?

• Video: Khan Academy, Feudal system during the Middle Ages

Advanced Material—

• Reading: Rachel Cohon, Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy Entry on Hume's Moral Philosophy

• Reading: Samuel Fleischacker, Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy Entry on Adam Smith’s Moral and Political Philosophy

• Reading: Antti Kauppinen, Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy Entry on Moral Sentimentalism

 

Footnotes

1. Hume adds, however, that human nature itself does not allow us to live in a perpetual state of skepticism, rationally justified though the skepticism may be. The very nature of our cognition makes it so that we can only be skeptics when we have our philosopher hats on, but we return to blissful non-skepticism as soon as we engage in healthy everyday activities. Moreover, there's no reason to despair, claimed Hume, since we can gain some probabilistic knowledge about matters of fact, assuming the external world is real, through the experimental method.

2. Interestingly, contra widely-held assumptions about Smith’s religiosity, Smith explains the origin of religions as being similar to the origin of science: as a search for explanations that relieve our tensions about the world. By implication, gods were invented by human beings—not the other way around. Gods are the result of human ignorance and lack of explanatory power. Interestingly enough, Smith conjectures that what gave rise to monotheism is the desire to have different explanations for natural phenomena to be part of a coherent whole. This is, by the way, exactly what Wright argued for in The Evolution of God. Smith implies but does not explicitly say that the desire for a unified theory is an artifact of the imagination and its desires; that there is no real reason to assume that a unified theory actually exists (as disappointing as this may be to some theoretical physicists).

3. Since we are discussing differences between these friends, we should note that Smith also diverged from Hume on the topic of religion. Both undoubtedly wanted to ensure that something like the wars of religion didn’t happen again, like many other intellectuals of the age. However, Hume thought that the best policy is to have the state sponsor a church, making sure that this monopoly would render fanaticism improbable, since the favored church wouldn’t have to denigrate other factions (since they would be either weak or non-existent). Smith, on the other hand, presents the very modern view of complete separation of church and state—a novelty at the time.

4. Rasmussen hastens to add that Smith believed that the state should intervene to educate the children of the poor to help their lot in life, who would otherwise be condemned to the same harmful division-of-labor-type employment as their parents. Again, if a libertarian tells you that Smith would've advocated for only private schooling, tell them to actually read Wealth of Nations.