On Cesco's Behalf: Love and Drones

 How do we relate to the love experienced by others? Smith holds that we do not sympathize directly with love itself, but rather the secondary passions it inspires—“All the secondary passions, if I may be allowed to call them so, which arise from the situation of love, become necessarily more furious and violent; and it is with these secondary passions only that we can properly be said to sympathize” (Smith 33). On one hand, this makes a good deal of sense. We relate to the euphoria and heartbreak that love inevitably spawns, but not to the love itself. We understand the desire for “serenity and quiet” derived from love, and we “enter into all the anxiety, and concern, and distress of the lover” (Smith 32). Yet, for Smith, love is a bit ridiculous. We tend to resent our friends enemies and esteem their benefactors, but “if [s]he is in love, though we may think [her] passion just as reasonable as any of the kind, yet we never think ourselves bound to conceive a passion of the same kind, and for the same person for whom he has conceived it” (Smith 31). Moreover, he holds that “all serious and strong expressions of [love] appear ridiculous to a third person” (Smith 31).

But do we not conceive of the specific love our friend has for another? Can we not step into her shoes, and imagine the connections we would create with certain traits of her partner? Is our sympathy (empathy?) limited to when our friend is either especially happy or sad, and not when she is experiencing love on a more quotidian basis? Indeed when a friend is particularly torn over a quarrel with a lover, do we not conceive of her love for the other as a sort of consolation?

Smith offers an account of sympathy for love that depicts us as especially responsive to manifestations of love’s extremities, but perhaps denies us a more profound respect for love itself. I would contend that we conceive of others’ love in a more holistic way, albeit lacking grounds for such a claim other than my intuition. I believe it is especially relevant today, though, as we continue to increase our usage of drones in war. War is nasty, and it is widely held—although there are certainly exceptions—that the majority of those who experience it would advocate against it. Killing fellow humans corrodes our mental health, as viewing the absence of life in a corpse causes a profound “dread of death.” While on a battlefield soldiers can’t help but see their enemies, in drone warfare the operator never needs to confront the carnage she creates. Why does this seem so profoundly troubling to us, then, if the only sympathy for love we are able to experience is on a generalized basis?

Barriers to Sympathy

While reading Smith, I found myself constantly questioning what role, if any, Smith grants to personal experiences in affecting our ability to sympathize.

Introducing sympathy, Smith seems to deny the role of experience, stating "we have no immediate experience of what other men feel, we can form no idea of the manner in which they are affected, but by conceiving what we ourselves should feel in the like situation" (3). From this quote, it seems that our ability to sympathize does not rely on our ability to have similar experiences. This seems consistent with Smith's argument for physical pain. Since we cannot feel the pain of another person directly, we cannot proportionately sympathize to the degree of pain the person is experiencing. Instead, it seems Smith would substitute our ability to reason what a person may feel through imagination. Smith directly acknowledges this integral role of reason when he states, "the compassion of the spectator must arise altogether from the consideration of what he himself would feel is he was reduced to the same unhappy situation, and what perhaps is impossible, was at the same time able to regard it with his present reason and judgement" (6).

However, Smith's disregard for personal experience becomes less clear as he progresses. When encountering a person experiencing strong emotions, Smith notes that our inability to readily sympathize with this person is caused by our "unacquainte[nce] with his provocation, [and so] we cannot bring his case home to ourselves, nor conceive anything like the passions which it excites" (5). Here, it seems that Smith thinks we can better sympathize when we are more "acquainted," or more familiar with the experiences that have caused someone's strong emotions.

When considering this tension between personal experience and reason in our ability to sympathize, I feel convinced that experience must be considered. For example, in high school, I often found myself frustrated by my own inability to adequately comfort and relate to my friends whose parents were going through divorces. Since my parents were not divorced, I felt that was less able to help my friends than my friends whose parents had been through a divorce. Thus,  while I could certainly "reason" about what it might be like for my parents to be divorced, this never felt adequate to understanding my friends experiences. I felt that even applied to Smith, I think this experience could suggest that a certain amount of Smith's "reason" depends on personal experience or is even derived from personal experiences.

My belief in this relationship is strengthened when I think about an experience I recently had with a friend of mine and Melissa's friend from another school. When Melissa's friend visited a few weekends ago, she immediately bonded with one of our close friends because they had both had numerous medical experiences that were very serious. Even though they were merely acquaintances, they bonded over this shared experience better than Melissa or I had ever been able to sympathize with our friends individually. This seems to challenge Smith's assertion that we are less composed  around acquaintances than friends. He notes that "if we are at all masters of ourselves, the presence of a mere acquaintance will really compose us, still more than that of a friend; and that of an assembly of strangers still more than that of acquaintance" (18). To me, it seems that personal experiences form an important exception Smith's ranking of personal relationships.

P.S. Sorry for all of the anecdotes!!

Modern Aristocracy: The False Meritocracy

Adam Smith brings up the ultimate question: are the “great” great because they worked really hard or because the world was already in their hands? In his words: “Do the great seem insensible of the easy price at which they may acquire the public admiration; or do they seem to imagine that to them, as to other men, it must be the purchase either of sweat or of blood?” (43). Smith goes on to critique the “young nobleman” and his failure to show “virtue of any kind” that would merit his ruling over the rest of the world. He speaks of the young nobleness awareness of how “he is observed, and how much mankind are disposed to favour all his inclination” (44). He uses Louis XIV to explicate the unworthiness of the ruling elite in aristocracies: “But what were the talents and virtues by which he acquired this great reputation? […] Was it by his extensive knowledge exquisite judgment, or by his heroic valour? It was by none of these qualities” (44). He then goes on to say that the King’s talents were not “much above mediocrity” and therefore appeared to have no true merit.

He then goes on to say that if a man “ever hopes to distinguish themselves, it must be by more important virtues” (45); he must be above a level of mediocrity. He must “acquire superior knowledge in his profession, and superior industry in the exercise of it” (45). Here, true virtue lies. However, how can we square his account of the King with this idea of meritocracy? The “great” are great because the world is predisposed to value the great’s inclinations, not because of superior knowledge or virtue. How different is the modern ruling elite—otherwise known as us—than King Louis XIV? Yes, we may be “smarter” or “better” than the kid who didn’t get in to CMC, but how much of that is about our own ability to achieve above the level of mediocrity and how much of it is predetermined about how society is set up to favor us? If it seems that the world is simply predisposed to favor all of our inclinations, then do we have any virtue at all? And if not, does meritocracy truly exist today?

Is Sympathy Selfish?

What we mean by the phrase "self-interested" or "selfish" has been bothering me for some time, and I wanted to examine it a little more closely. To dispel any confusion, when I discuss selfishness, I'm not talking about Smith's "selfish passions" (joy and grief) but rather the concept of selfishness itself.

Step 1: In my view, there is a powerful (or at the very least, bothersome) theoretical argument to say that everything a human can do is selfish. One might immediately point to an altruistic action that we know humans have done before. How does this understanding characterize a soldier who jumps on a live grenade to save her comrades? The answer is simple, and it doesn't require an analysis of empirics: the soldier jumped on the grenade because that is what she wanted to do. The fact that she took this action means she weighed it against her alternatives (however briefly) and decided that this is the course she most preferred. While this act can't necessarily be said to benefit her, that is not relevant. She took an action which maximized the satisfaction of her own interest, insofar as her "own interest" was to jump on the grenade. In short, we will always act selfishly, because we will always do what we've decided we want to do most, even if it will benefit other people more than it will benefit us.

If one defines selfishness as pursuing a goal which will benefit oneself, I am contented to move beyond the semantic argument I have made in the above paragraph.

Step 2: Let's engage with Smith's characterization of sympathy. He beings, "How selfish soever man may be supposed, there are evidently some principles in his nature, which interest him in the fortune of others, and renders their happiness necessary to him, though he derives nothing from it except the pleasure of seeing it." Presumably, this is meant to imply that what gives rise to sympathy lies outside self-interest -- Smith wants to suggest that we naturally have a concern for conferring benefits onto our fellow man. However, "the pleasure of seeing" others' happiness is vastly understated, and it plays a critical role in Smith's account -- doing something kind for you makes me feel good, and so it benefits me. Furthermore, we "seem to be pleased when we are able to sympathize with [somebody], and hurt when we are unable to do so." Ergo, it often benefits us, and is thus selfish, to show sympathy -- why else would we seek fellow feeling with the dead? Surely it isn't for their benefit. Smith admits that we feel sympathy for the dead, and the reason we pay "vain honors" to their memory is to alleviate "our own misery [emphasis added]" at the prospect of being deprived of our worldly existence. I reason that since I am not allowing Person X to be forgotten, I too might avoid this cold fate; thus, sympathizing with Person X affords me some comfort.

Although Smith's account of sympathy leads us to interpersonal relations which we think are worthwhile, is there any convincing reason to believe that we aren't sympathetic merely because these relationships are in our best interest? In other words, couldn't any benefit our sympathy confers onto others be a positive externality of acting selfishly (which, as we saw in the death case, involves forming these relationships)?

Bringing some life and poetry into the equation

In the words of Walt Whitman, “I have perceived that to be with those I like is enough, To stop in company with the rest at evening is enough, To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing flesh is enough.”

I went into reading Adam Smith thinking I was going to find an account of self-interested “morality.” To my surprise, I found an account of morality that evoked many of the themes which I felt were missing in Gauthier’s account and reminded me a lot of my favorite words from Walt Whitman.  In fact, the very first words of Smith’s account are, “how selfish soever man may be supposed, there are evidently some principles in his nature, which interest him in the fortune of others, and render their happiness necessary to him, though he derives nothing from it except the pleasure of seeing it” (1).  By stating that rationality consists of pursuing our personal preferences, we are missing key aspects of human nature: our love of fellow humans and the empathy that accompanies that love.  (Quick point: Smith uses the word sympathy, and oftentimes I was concerned that he really meant empathy.  The Oxford English Dictionary alleviated my worries by showing that empathy actually was not a word when Smith wrote his work, thus I believe he often uses the word “sympathy” when he means “empathy.”)

Outside of all rationality and wealth-accumulation, Smith, unlike many previous philosophers we have studied, highlights the importance of fellow-humans. Unlike Posner or Gauthier, Smith places great emphasis on the way in which we interact with others and our interactions’ influences on our wellbeing.  Smith points out, “the mirth of the company, no doubt, enlivens our own mirth, and silence, no doubt, disappoints us,” which demonstrates to us how reliant we are on the emotions of others.  He emphasizes that “we can scarce express too much satisfaction in all the little occurrences of common life, in the company with which we spent the evening last night, in the entertainment that was set before us, in what was said and what was done, in all the little incidents of the present conversation,” which helps show how much our wellbeing is related to being around others (6).  He also shows in his discourse on the discontent of  “the man who, by some sudden revolution of fortune, is lifted up all at once into a condition of life,” the perhaps greater importance of being around people than accumulating immediate wealth with the explanation that “if the chief part of changes of human happiness arises from the consciousness of being beloved, as I believe it does, those sudden changes of fortune seldom contribute much to happiness” (32).  

I think that there are a lot of very interesting subjects within Smith’s work driven from this dependence on others.  I think that, as Smith notes, our relationship with others drives a lot of variability in our action towards others.  We can empathize in certain situation much better than we can in others; these are points that are really key and influential in our world today (i.e. media attention in Brussels v. media intention in Pakistan following this past week’s bombings).  Furthermore, as Smith notes, we empathize differently depending on our emotions. I think these issues and so many more are so interesting, and I could keep rambling for a long time, but I think overall I was just so happy that Smith seemed to ground his argument in the day-to-day realities of what affects our wellbeing.  I was so excited that Smith was able to bring some life into the picture (pun definitely intended).  Moreover, I was most surprised that this humanistic account came from the creator of our “Invisible Hand” rhetoric. 

Approval and Adoption

          In The Theory of Moral Sentiments, Adam Smith provides an account of how we use our sentiments as a metric to judge others’ propriety or impropriety. Propriety, or what is collectively considered as conventionally proper behavior, derives through a process of approval and adoption. Smith equates approval to adoption as he argues that, “To approve of another man’s opinions is to adopt those opinions, and to adopt them is to approve of them” (17). This continuous procedure determines what the proper sentiments should be. According to Smith, we only approve of the sentiments that correspond with our own, and conversely, reject those that disagree with ours. Smith describes what we dictate as good taste or judgment are “wherever his sentiments entirely correspond with our own” (19). In this account, Smith assumes that our original sentiments defined as, the ones that we possess, are correct and thus, the ones that should be reinforced. I am concerned with this assumption.

            While I agree with his explanation of the emergence of propriety, Smith does not provide an account of how to evaluate these original sentiments. If our original sentiments are wrong, then through the process of approval and adoption, would we create a form of impropriety that is actually camouflaged as propriety? Or does Smith believe that our ability to approve and adopt is a sufficient standard to judge proper sentiments? Based on his account, I think that Smith argues that humans have this ability. However, in doing so, Smith places too high an amount of faith in humans to correctly choose the components of propriety. In approving another person’s judgment, Smith explains that we do not consider it as useful, but as right and accurate, “for no other reason but because we find that it agrees with our own” (20). The only standard of approval for Smith is whether or not these sentiments correspond with ours. I would argue that this standard is a poor benchmark to determine propriety. Just because they are own sentiments does not automatically deem them as correct. By making this assumption, Smith abandons the possibility that our own original sentiments could be wrong.

Smith’s Account of Ambition

            I found Smith’s account of ambition to be extremely interesting! When I think of ambition, I think of personal drive and individual initiative. However, Smith seems give an account of ambition that stems from a desire for public admiration and sympathy—something that seems to be based outside the self. According to Smith, ambition acts as a response to other peoples’ vanity. Because people are more likely to sympathize with joy than sorrow or hardship, “we make parade of our riches, and conceal our poverty” (50). We admire and respect those who are wealthy because it is much easier to sympathize with the rich than to attempt to understand another person’s sorrow, especially since we can only imagine another person’s hardship rather than fully understand it. For this reason, people vainly consume superfluities and show off their wealth “because [those who do so] fee[l] that they naturally draw upon [themselves] the attention of the world” (51). Vanity is therefore a response to an attempt to gain the sympathies of other people and win their interests.

            But those who are not born into affluence cannot parade invisible wealth. Smith states, “the poor man… is ashamed of his poverty. He feels that it either places him out of the sight of mankind, or, that if they take any notice of him, they have, however, scarce any fellow-feeling with the misery and distress which he suffers” (51). In either regard, Smith argues that those who are impoverished feel shut out from the world because they are unable to inspire sympathy in others. It is this feeling of solitude Smith conveys when he contends, “The poor man goes out and comes in unheeded, and when in the midst of a crowd is in the same obscurity as if shut up in his own hovel” (51). In order to combat these feelings of solitude, Smith asserts that an individual of lower class is willing to work extremely hard by employing “the labour of his body [and/or] the activity of his mind” in order to bring his talents into the public view (55). Thus, ambition derives from an attempt to acquire public admiration—admiration that the wealthy were able to achieve simply by a vain display of wealth. Smith ultimately argues that ambition is driven by human desire for the sympathy and affections of others. But my questions are: is this an accurate account of ambition? Do individuals strive to succeed simply because they wish to gain the affections and praise of other people, or do they do so for some internal reason too? Is it fair or accurate to say that ambition stems from others’ displays of vanity, and if so, is this the correct interpretation of the American Dream?