Cooperation and Cause

I'm interested in Blackburn's account of cooperation and cooperative dispositions. As he claims, "success needs society" which speaks to the idea that mutual cooperation leaves all parties better off than in, say Hobbes' state of nature, and "society needs trust" (198). Cooperation seems to stem from two main places for Blackburn, and perhaps at different orders: from the acknowledgement of eligible agents that "the chance of their being the only group to benefit from unrestrained greed is vanishingly small" which would lead to a socially better "cooperative state" (181) where all are more likely to enjoy greater benefits and from the motivation of trust (194). In the first case it is not more rational to cooperate, we choose to do so because cooperation "appeals most to us" because of its appeal to satisfying our concerns (181). If they cannot see this appeal, they are doomed to the "invisible boot" and stay in a mutually disadvantageous competitive and aggressive state. 

Trust seems to be Blackburn's way of more or less securing human action in accordance with this appeal. He introduces trust by suggesting that war is not the only way nature has provided for us to interact: "we grow into communities in which the mechanism of counting on people and signalling that we can be counted upon is embedded" (194). The motivation for trust is then described in two primary ways: your goodwill and the knowledge that others rely on you (194). He says that, although there is no "inevitability theorem" dictating that trust will always evolve, there is also no "impossibility theorem" proving how trust cannot evolve; we rarely have a guarantee that others are to be universally mistrusted (196). So, with the benefit of cooperation along with this optimistic possibility of beneficial evolution, we should be inclined, Blackburn argues, to trust others, and place an "organic growth model in place of a rational design model" which might suggest trust to be irrational because it is not guaranteed or because it may not immediately maximize one's utility. We must develop "habits of reliance" according to him. While certainly society needs trust, I do not think Blackburn's arguments definitively prove that we should trust one another. The possibility of evolution of any sort of trust seems to be a weak claim akin to saying that one should certainly do something just because there's a chance it becomes something greater and positive, despite the risk. There are many who would choose not to act. It also seems like a reach to suggest that our motivations for trust in cooperative relationships stems primarily from goodwill or knowledge of another's reliance. These seems to be ingredients for exploitation (as we've discussed in previous works). It makes more sense to me that trust is treated similarly to how Sen (I believe) treated morality. Being trusting and trustworthy (like being moral) is rational (although I know Blackburn doesn't like this distinction) because otherwise, in a society where all pursued narrow self-interests and disregarded cooperation, all would be worse off. Unfortunately, if one is not concerned with being trustworthy in Blackburn's conception that person is acting in a perfectly permissible way, as being uncooperative is a reasonable choice for them to make due to consistency or otherwise. 

Differing forms of 'truth'

About the principle that individuals always act to maximize their own expected utility, Blackburn asks, "Are we dealing with a human universal, characteristic of us simply through our species-wide natures, or with a very specific cultural self image: the ideology of 'possessive individualism' or Western capitalism?" (135). Here, Blackburn questions whether we can truly understand a model based on self-interest as a universal one, or whether it is based fundamentally on the culture it developed from. In response, he says that there are three possible statuses about the principle, that the thesis be "an empirical truth," a "normative truth," or "analytical or definitional" (135). Blackburn asks a fundamental question about philosophical accounts that can be used to evaluate the critical assumptions taken to be true within philosophical models, such as the economic one.

Blackburn again stresses the difference between theoretical and empirical accounts when he discusses the Prisoners' Dilemma (177). He says that the problem includes both a theoretical game and an empirical game, the first representing how individuals perhaps would act under a given type of society while the latter explaining how individuals actually do act (and how it is rational for them to do so). Both accounts are important to Blackburn: the first is an exercise under which we can see how convention/culture will define how individuals in a society ought to address collective action problems. In doing so, individuals can consciously decide how they ought to be like how parents will try to raise their children to act given their notions of how others act within society. The empirical dilemma allows some people to "...co-operate, or play dove....defect, or play hawk" without being "rational or irrational because of that" (182). Because this game focuses on how individuals actually do act, it permits persons to value results (positive and negative) unequally as we do in real life.

Regardless of the completeness of Blackburn's account, I think he is right to emphasize the distinctness of the role's that empirical and theoretical versions serve. We ought to always assess each account by the type of account it is describing so that we can better evaluate the validity and completeness thereof.

Blackburn's rat choice

I find it curious that Blackburn, who sets about taking about the theory of rational choice, so shuns the word rational (ostensibly because it confuses endlessly.) But regardless …

Eligible persons, that is “anyone with consistent, transitive preferences over a set of options,” make decisions on the basis of two concepts: (a) util, a function of expected utility where utility is valued on the basis of transitivity, and (b) revpref, which is the preference relation of any choice to other available options in that particular situation. And so Blackburn builds a very robust theory of rational choice that can "interpret the decision of any eligible agent as if they were seeking to maximize expected utility.” (164)

I find Blackburn’s approach problematic still. It reminds me of the inner-consistency accounts of rationality that we’d talked about last seminar. The crank-oil example, which seems intuitively irrational, would not be classed as so by Blackburn’s system. I'd thought that this was inherently problematic because I’d felt that theories of rational choice surely must be able to make normative claims and make recommendations but Blackburn denies this again, and again (136, 167). But perhaps Blackburn has a point, that it may be an inherent limitation of theories of rationality that they cannot adjudicate on the primacy of one preference set over another. Maybe that’s where ethics gets to feature.

Pleasure and Mill's Falacy

Mill's characterization of human motivation in terms of pleasure is simplistic and I like how Blackburn uses Butler to point out his mistake. The satisfaction of some wants does bring pleasure, but as Butler and Blackburn both note "not all desires seem to bring 'pleasure' upon being gratified" (139). Human motivations and decisions are ruled by things besides pleasure. Butler distinguishes between an "object of my 'particular' desire," and "the pleasure" that comes from the satisfaction of that desire (138-139). As many things bring feelings besides pleasure, Mill's direct relationship between desire, action, and pleasure is false. Blackburn then discusses other ideas about human desires and choice. He mentions the idea of release, but state of mind is not always directly related to an action. Blackburn also explores the idea of a "change from a state of desire to one of fulfillment," but dislikes this on the basis that it "presupposes a preceding desire," as the desire for change is secondary (141). Thus choice is not merely ruled by desire and pleasure, as Mill proposed. I am much more convinced by the idea that humans are motivated by concerns not mere pleasure. For example, an individual is concerned about the survival of the whales rather than acting for the pleasure derived from the survival of the whales. I particularly liked the Gauthier quote used that, "it is not interests in the self, that take oneself as object, but interests of the self, held by oneself as subject, that provide the basis for rational choice and action" (162).

Throughout this semester, we have discussed the idea of self-interest as encompassing more than merely economic personal gain and Blackburn delves into this issue. I find myself persuaded by this idea that we are motivated by interests of the self not in the self. Blackburn works to bridge the divide between benevolence and self-interest by arguing that "any such concern [such as benevolence] may be one of the particular (first-order) concerns whose satisfaction goes to making up our own self-interest" (143). I'm curious to see if other people found this to be an interesting and potentially persuading idea? Can self-interest encompass altruism and benevolence as Butler and Blackburn propose?

Grey (50 Shades of)

I think we can find some parallels in Frank's work to the ideas Khadija pointed out in Sen. As Khadija said, "people can behave very unpredictably or 'irrationally,' when making decisions," making it difficult to normalize rational behavior universally. I think that Frank's adaptive rationality framework works to address this concern. Whereas individual conceptions of rationality will often differ, this doesn't necessarily prevent us from creating common standards, while obviously expecting some deviations. I found it interesting how he constructed the "cooperator and defector" example, illustrating that our differences in rationality, as well as how we discern these differences, are actually a vital part of maintaining our population. 

When cooperators and defectors are indistinguishable, defectors might rationalize coercive or immoral behaviors that have larger payoffs than the behaviors of the more beneficent cooperators. In this "complex interaction of genes and culture" defectors reign supreme, and are able to rationalize their pursuits of self-interest at the expense of those cooperators around them, who, due to their lower material payoffs relative to the defectors, would likely go extinct (49). When the two types of individuals can be easily distinguished, cooperators unite away from self-interested defectors, and "reap the benefits of mutual cooperation" because this higher order pursuit of self-interest is combined with a sense of altruism (49). Defectors eventually go extinct in this situation. What this example illuminates is the shortcomings of existing, binary models of rationality. It does not pay to be exclusively self-interested nor exclusively benevolent and trusting. This is why Frank suggests the adaptive rationality framework, whereas individuals possess an internal "equilibrium in which each individuals experiences both selfish and altruistic motives to varying degrees" (50). It is impossible to define rationality without grey area, so Frank makes the grey area the focal point of his definition, which I think addresses your initial concerns. There will likely never be a universal definition of rationality that can be applied in all situations in all contexts, but this framework applies to many. 

I also like the connection between Sen and Frank where both mention the application of rationality models to individuals rather than groups. With Frank, he suggests that because populations will showcase differing conceptions of rationality, and "a stable balance" must be struck between those forces in order for the most members of the population to thrive, it would make the most sense for individuals to possess various conceptions and motives, and to various degrees. Just as it is unlikely that all defectors or all cooperators in a population would go extinct, it is unlikely that individuals would only be able to work exclusively within one conception of rationality. "We should not expect a world populated exclusively by the homo economicus caricature," Frank warns, for "they hardly represent a sensible basis on which to ground a universal science of human behavior" (50). People are rationally nuanced just as populations are, and we must work within this framework of grey area. 

Sen and Rationality

I think Sen's piece speaks to many of the debates we have had concerning self-interest and human behaviors. The notion of rationality is particularly interesting to me, and I think Sen eloquently articulates the struggles modern economics faces if it wishes to universalize rational behavior. Rationality takes on so many different forms. What is viewed as rational by one individual can be viewed as completely irrational by another individual.

Economists devised the price theory mechanism and created the supply and demand model, which give a broad outline of how markets work, by understanding how people face preferences and opportunity cost. However, as Sen mentions, people can behave very unpredictably or "irrationally," when making decisions, such as if the means don't align with the ends, so how can we normalize rational behavior to all individuals?

I also thought Sen's discussion of applying economic thought to the individual versus to groups was interesting. Although outcomes can be Pareto optimal, they can lead to significant misery, which is why political powers are so essential to a stable society.

Good, Common Law

It would make sense that one must test both the "the validity and sufficiency of the 'foreseeability' rule" when analyzing law, as the decisions made in a court of law do not exist in a vacuum. Interpretations are carried out as actions, and those actions may have dire effects on the lives of individuals. It then also makes sense that one must be able to acquire the skill of "distinguishing" cases, as law is a consistent principle that continually builds on itself, and courts do not merely resolve each "particular dispute before them" (7). This is somewhat difficult to do, however, when it is unclear what constitutes a holding of a certain case to another in terms of precedent: "it is an art or a game, rather than a science," for not all cases are well-defined and any "can be adjusted to suit the occasion" (8). So the burden placed on a judge is a great one, for it is not only their responsibility to understand and analyze the case before them, but to see how it might connect with every previous case in existence, and to accurately draw commonalities and distinctions between them even aware of their own inherent bias and fault. This can be considered concerning, but Scalia goes on to clarify that, when skilled at distinction, a common-law lawyer could find ways to grow the realm of common law to fit "new fact situations." In these cases, "common law grew in a particular fashion," with no rule being erased, but others being added: "the game continues" (9). 

However, this system that Scalia describes "of making law by judicial opinion... until [a lawyer] reaches the goal - good law," directly contests with democracy (9). In our democracy, the judge is not the legislator, but Scalia believes that, through the refinement and practice of these aforementioned skills, judges "in fact 'make' the common law" of our nation. This is argued to be unjust, as by doing so justices run riot "beyond the confines of legislative power" (10). Distinguishing is argued to be making new laws, which would make sense. If new facts create new considerations that set new precedents given new situations, then arguing that this act generates new laws is not unreasonable. Scalia argues not against common law, however, but for “the development of the bulk of private law by judges” as a desirable limitation on popular democracy. Legislators, he argues, although elected by the popular vote of the people, are “disqualified by the nature of their duties” to grow, develop, and improve the law, unlike judges who are selected by the people “on account of their special qualifications for the work” (12). It is no surprise that a Supreme Court Justice is arguing for his own validity and qualifications, but this argument drives a wedge between popular democracy and judicial power, suggesting that the system of representation we find to be just is not the system that produces the best law.

Statutory and Constitutional Interpretation

Scalia discusses two distinct types of interpretation in his initial essay, statutory and constitutional. Statutory interpretation, for Scalia at least, only looks at the text itself to offer a reasonable interpretation. He identifies two major problems with a non-textualist method, namely one that uses legislative intent. The first problem is that, because of judges cherry-picking elements of the record and the modern functioning of Congress, it “is much more likely to produce a false or contrived legislative intent than a genuine one.” (32). The second is the inherent challenge it provides to democratic government and the separation of powers, particularly how it constrains the power of the legislature to the benefit of judges (18). Personally, I find this to be an engaging case at the statutory level because of how it engages interpretation at both the theoretical and practical level.

When Scalia moves to constitutional interpretation, he attempts to apply his textualist method to the Constitution. Due to the nature of the Constitution, though, he can really only give a theoretical justification for his views. Even with its immense practical consequences, constitutional interpretation is more about what an abstract idea like freedom of expression entails, rather than a clear-cut ban on forced quartering of soldiers. This seems to create problems for Scalia’s argument, especially when he discusses something like the tyranny of the majority. He’s particularly concerned that, under an evolutionary interpretation, the Bill of Rights “will be committed to the very body it was meant to protect against: the majority.” (47). Despite his concern for politicized judges, that doesn’t seem to matter much if everyone agreed with Scalia. Everyone, using the same original meaning, would, instead of being influenced by modern majorities, be beholden to the original majority’s view. As a result, Scalia seems to have not completely solved problems he has on the theoretical side, much less the practical side.  

On a side note, does anyone know Scalia’s thoughts on the Lochner-era Court, which invalidated regulatory schemes on what is essentially economic freedom grounds? I would love to know how he reconciles this with his view of the “rock-solid, unchanging” Constitution of several decades ago.

Politicization of the Justice System

So obviously my blog title is pretty broad and also a huge area of discussion / argument... I just wanted to start this conversation here because I am curious about what all of you think about the politicization of the Supreme Court.

Lego clearly thinks Supreme Court justices are political... (to our great disappointment)
http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2015/03/10/female-supreme-court-justice-legos-rejected-for-being-political.html

And so does Scalia...He is concerned that justices are becoming legislators, creating laws through their interpretations. In regards to Constitutional interpretation, Scalia writes, "if the courts are free to write the Constitution anew, they will, by God, write it the way the majority wants; the appointment and confirmation process will see to that," meaning that majoritarian politics dictate the decisions of the justice system (47). If justices are allowed to interpret the Constitution and laws generally and based on intent, Scalia thinks this politicizes them and allows justices to write laws.

Dworkin suggests that the Constitution "set[s] out abstract principles rather than concrete or dated rules" which "must be continually reviewed, not in an attempt to find substitutes for what the Constitution says, but out of respect for what it says" (122).

Scalia fears that giving the courts moral judgement powers "politicizes the appointments of Supreme Court justices and makes it more likely that justices will be appointed who reflect the changing moods of the majority" (126).  I understand that the judiciary was formed as part of the separation of powers and is supposed to add a check on the majority. It does not seem totally reasonable though to not consider the importance of developing interpretations of documents like the Constitution. The justice system is supposed to reign in the potentially wild nature of democracy, but it does seem like the courts need some sort of authority and power to be effective.

I want to know what all of you think about the politics of the courts (specifically the Supreme Court, especially given all the news about the ACA and gay marriage, etc). Is the Supreme Court overly politicized? Is this wrong? What is more democratic? What system would be the most just? Does justice need to have some sort of accountability to the people? Big questions I know, hoping to hear some thoughts.

A paean to the old curmudgeon I've always hated

I never thought I’d say this, but I love Scalia. He’s a superb writer: engaging, pellucid, smart, and most of all refreshing. He’s the kind of writer I hope to be on my best days. I found him irresistibly compelling in spite of my political inclinations as to otherwise. I think I’m a bit of a textualist now.

Let me try to describe Scalia’s position as well as I can: Scalia believes the right way to adjudge on laws and statues is to rule reasonably (scrivener’s error as an example of what’s unreasonable) on the primary basis of time-dated semantic intention. Scalia isn’t a strict textualist, and I don’t think it’s fair to caricaturize him as much. [Dear Nico: Scalia does not like abstracts one bit and I think he’d disagree with your characterization of his views.] He contrasts nicely against Dworkin, who advocates for an abstract moral reading of the Constitution.

There’s so much to talk about, but I think the most philosophically interesting is Scalia’s charge on pg. 22 that nontextualists views of constitutional law (I’m certain he counts Dworkin among them) are "not compatible with democratic theory that laws mean whatever they ought to mean, and that unelected judges decide what that it is." I’m not entirely comfortably with this accusation: it seems to be that any reasonably robust theory of democracy, Rawls’ say, must and is able to account for such judicial interventions: democracy isn’t to be confused with majoritarianism, after all. Dworkin makes a similar response on pg. 127.

Scalia’s response in turn is especially piquant. He points out the fact that nontextualist approaches are in fact at greater mercy to majoritarianism. Most of the recent judicial decisions in favor of individual rights have coincided with majoritarian opinion; the judicial selection process have become toxically political. I don’t know to what extent his fears are justified – are “individual rights disfavored by the majority” truly jeopardized as he claims? – but I am hesitant to dismiss them out of hand.

It seems to me that a central theme to this debate is this: how much law-making/legislating is a judge to do? A nontextualist judge necessarily does more, a textualist less. I must say I lean toward the latter, regardless of my political affiliation. Leave the law-making to the legislators. As a non-resident alien, I move that we make the constitution amendment process a simpler one!

The Strength of Textualism

Knowing the role that Scalia played in key Supreme Court decisions (like DC v. Heller, etc) largely influenced my initial feelings toward his overarching philosophies and how he goes about deciding cases. With that said, I found myself persuaded by Scalia's account of textualism.

Here's why: textualism provides a concrete standard for justices to abide by when considering greater Constitutional questions. Those justices who prefer to look for a broader intention of the text or to simply consider how we ought to go about using the text to reflect current societal beliefs do so without the strength of consistency found in textualism. Although Dworkin successfully emphasizes flaws within the details of Scalia's argument, I do not think that his critique adequately discredits textualism on a broader scale.

Lawmakers are elected to create laws- and these laws do not change without the amendment thereof. Indeed lawmakers maintain the responsibility to correct for statutes that no longer fit the interests of their voters, but this means that we must hold lawmakers to such a high standard rather than relying on judicial interpretation of the laws. This is more difficult, of course, for a document like the Constitution. However, the amendment process should not be neglected in its power nor purpose; although the process is complex and difficult for a number of reasons, the founders included it for a reason. As textualists would argue, we have the power to change the text and in result, the meaning of our Constitution.

Practicality and the Founding Fathers

I have two thoughts that are totally different.

1. Scalia argues, “As soon as the discussion goes beyond the issue of whether the Constitution is static, the evolutionists divide into as many camps as there are individual views of the good, the true, the beautiful. I think that is inevitably so, which means that evolutionism is simply not a practical constitutional philosophy” (45). But could textualism be just as impractical, leveling evolutionism and textualism to the same philosophical plane? Debate about what is good is important. Maybe this is sacrilegious to constitutional law and has too dramatic consequences, but it is possible that the Founding Fathers were not perfect human beings who were infinitely smarter than anyone that exists now. Maybe their conception of good, is not a perfect conception, and, thus, we should revise it.  If this is a reasonable assumption, then debate over what is good is important. Can we diverge from what the Founding Father thought of as good, if it seems impractical, in order to pursue our own conception of good, if we deem it best for society?

2. Scalia remarks that we can reasonably assume that handwritten letters are protected under the First Amendment as speech and press “stand as sort of synecdoche for the whole” (38).  Reasonable assumptions are permissible. When does reasonable assumptions become gross interpretations?  As Dworkin asks, “Why is [Scalia] so sure that the Equal Protection Clause did not always forbid discrimination on the grounds of age, property, or sex?”. Reasonability and reasonable assumption stand at either side of his spectrum, but Scalia never points out where the tipping point is.

I was mostly interested in Scalia and Dworkin's disagreement over legal principles. It seems that Dworkin thinks law propagates non-dated, abstract principles whereas Scalia sees these principles as abstract, but read and interpreted in a dated way.  I like Scalia's broader argument for textualism, but this discrepancy involves the nebulous concept of principles. I feel like a more developed account of legal principles would be helpful. Any strong opinions supporting either Scalia or Dworkin?

Scalia's Abstraction

I'm wondering what everyone thinks of Scalia's response to Dworkin's criticism, in which Scalia says that his interpretive method of the Constitution is both abstract and dated. For instance, Scalia says that he agrees with Dworkin that the Eighth Amendment is an abstract principle; and "if [Scalia] did not hold this belief, [he] would not be able to apply the Eighth Amendment (as assuredly as [he does]) to all sorts of tortures quite unknown at the time the Eighth Amendment was adopted" (145). However, Scalia qualifies this type of abstraction by saying that "What [the Eighth Amendment] abstracts, however, is not a moral principle of 'cruelty' that philosophers can play with in the future, but rather the existing society's assessment of what is cruel" (145). Scalia's interpretation is therefore very much stuck (and he believes it should be stuck) on the perceptions and beliefs of the Founding society. However, we can go back and evaluate new developments in torture methodology, for instance, to determine what the Founding society would have thought if these types of torture had existed at the time. Scalia wants to say that this is still an abstract way of viewing the Constitution, but I have a hard time accepting that what Scalia is doing is abstracting in any meaningful way. I don't think it's really fair for Scalia to try to claim his interpretive method is abstract when really all he does is take new developments and test them based on fixed standards that can never change. Thoughts?

Human Nature

Smith's account of human interaction as a condition of justice is interesting and optimistic, and makes me think of other arguments we've seen in this course. Rawls' 'veil of ignorance,' although seen by Franny as a precursor to selfishness, seemed to outline a similar idea: that people would treat others with justice because they might see themselves vulnerable to similar injustices without such mutual consideration. This is while Hobbes might argue that man would only begin to consider the interests of others once he's left the state of nature for his own. 

Smith, though, in outlining what might constitute a "fellow-feeling" in individuals towards others around them, focuses on how sympathy and compassion are experienced (12). He seems to immediately discount empathy, where a bystander might understand and assume the emotions of another, claiming instead that "our senses will never inform us of what [another individual] suffers," but instead merely "correspond to... the sentiments of the sufferer" (10). He argues for sympathy, which does not arise from "the view of the passion, as from that of the situation which excites it," and therefore is less about others on the part of the bystander, and more about "the consideration of what [the bystander themselves] would feel if [they were] reduced to the same unhappy situation" (12). Smith sees reasonable people in this way, and believes that these forces, whereas bystanders constantly sympathize with the emotional states of those around them, be they in happiness or sorrow, drive society. This point is concluded by Smith in describing a familiar situation with an unfamiliar perspective: the sorrow felt at the death of another. While the circumstances of death can bring us no pain personally, they, perhaps objectively unreasonably, make us "miserable while we are alive" (13). That bystanders can so completely imagine the feelings of others in themselves, Smith argues, sets the stage for reasonable human interaction, and creates "the great restraint upon the injustice of mankind" (13). In this way, strong sympathetic emotions like "the dread of death," while they afflict the individual, restrain our capacity to harm others or do injustice onto them and in this way "guard and protect society" (13). 

This is why it might be, as Smith describes, a "real and gross inhumanity" to disregard the afflictions of our fellow individuals: by doing so one is ignoring sympathy as a precondition for a just society, leaving people unable or unwilling to consider and therefore respect the interests of others as their own (15). This idea seems to be defended by Smith, as he argues that when the passions of one are in "perfect concord" with the "sympathetic emotions of the spectator," they appear to be "just and proper" while a lack of concord would evoke the opposite (16). By sympathizing, we acknowledge the emotions and desires of others as valid, and "allow [their] justness" as we would expect others to observe in us (16). When we feel "much for others and little for ourselves" and restrain our selfish natures (that Hobbes may have spoken of here) this "constitutes the perfection of human nature:" a harmony of "sentiments and passions" for others that resonate with our own (25).

Reconciling Justice with Sympathy

In Sec. I, Chapter III, Smith begins by writing that the following:

“When the original passions of the person principally concerned are in perfect concord with the sympathetic emotions of the spectator, they necessarily appear to this last just and proper, and suitable to their objects; and, on the contrary, when upon bringing the case home to himself, he finds that they do not coincide with what he feels, they necessarily appear to him unjust and improper, and unsuitable to the causes which excite him.” (11)

This seems a bit problematic, for if justice is derived from feelings about another, this requires emotion to be at the centerpiece of a just system. The impartial spectator, however, is built upon the idea of reason. Being impartial, by definition, requires one to abandon emotions to critically evaluate the situation around them. But, to be just, one also has to be emotional, as that is the only way we know who deserves sympathy in a situation. Smith's solution to this problem is for people to constrain emotions to make them understandable to others, and it would seem like his impartial spectator would have an emotive capacity, but not be beholden to it. The problem with this is that it still seems to require the impartial spectator to abandon some of her impartiality. Given the power that emotions can hold over people, it seems odd to suggest simultaneously that emotions explain much of human interaction, but that they can be abandoned as needed (which, to remain truly impartial, they would have to be). For Smith, reconciling a fluctuating justice with sympathy is no easy task. 

Sympathy

An interesting point that Smith makes in The Theory of Moral Sentiments is regarding people compassion or pity when they see another person in misery. Smith argues that there is a certain disconnection between the specter and the one actually in misery. He writes, "But the poor wretch, who is in it, laughs and sings perhaps, and is altogether insensible of his own misery. The anguish which humanity feels, therefore, at the sight of such an object, cannot be the reflection of any sentiment of the sufferer" (12).

Smith interestingly argues that the misery and the distress of the person actually experiencing the misfortune will never be as great as the specter's. He uses an example of a mother seeing her infant suffer through a disease. The mother is terrified of her own "helplessness, and her own terrors for the unknown  consequences of its disorders" (12). However, the infant cannot feel any more misery than the present instant.

Smith argues that the compassion we have as specters must only come out of how we ourselves would feel if we were in that situation of misery. We are completely insensitive to what the person is going through in reality and therefore cannot be truly sensitive to that person.

Smith believes that, however, it is not only misery and sadness that we can experience as specters for another but more importantly joy. He writes, "the sympathy, which my friends express with my joy, might indeed, give me pleasure by enliving that joy: but that which they press with my grief could give me none, if it served only to enliven that grief. Sympathy however, enlivens joy and alleviates grief" (14).

Passion of the body and of the imagination

I found Smith's distinction between the passions "which take their origin from the body" and those "which take their origin from a particular turn or habit of the imagination" to be very interesting. Smith claims that passion related to bodily needs are/should be far less sympathized/advertised than passions related to the imagination. He writes that "The true cause of the peculiar disgust which we conceive for the appetites of the body when we see them in other men, is that we cannot enter into them." On the other hand, Smith claims that we sympathize more with intangible occurrences because, "our imaginations can more readily mould themselves upon his imagination, than our bodies can mould themselves upon his body."

I struggle to relate to this idea. It seems almost counterintuitive that we sympathize more with "imagined" grief and happiness than tangible grief and joy. I understand the sentiment of his argument, but feel that I often am more inclined not to sympathize with perceived emotions for the fact that they are formed internally and are not real. Perhaps this is a perverse way of thinking and Smith would claim that I am invirtuous, but to truly adopt the role of a completely impartial spectator in these cases is really, really hard. If you're hungry, I can recall a time when I was hungry and easily relate. (While I agree pain is temporary and we often forget about these experiences much easier than imagined emotional ones, it seems almost irrational. Still, I maintain that in identifying with other's sentiments, it is easier to take the role of the impartial spectator on those that originate from the body). If you're heartbroken over a relationship, I cannot truly understand how you feel as I was not there for all the moments you and your partner shared. (I note that he says we relate to love's secondary emotions, but regardless, find sympathy difficult.) The notion that the bulk of our sympathy arises from imagined feelings is almost unsettling and existential. This point drives home when Smith talks about death: "It is from this very illusion of the imagination, that the foresight of our own dissolution is so terrible to us, and that the idea of those circumstances, which undoubtedly can give us no pain when we are dead, makes us miserable while we are alive." While he thinks this "dread of death--the great poison of happiness" is necessary to protect society, it is interesting to think about the monopolizing effects imagination can hold on us.

I also think this idea is dependent upon the society you are in. Many cultures do not place emphasis on expressing "imagined emotions" while others dictate the opposite. In primitive societies, I would imagine basic human bodily needs were the primary things discussed. In modern Western societies, we see the emergence of the emphasis on emotional connectivity. Do you think this idea is dependent on political structures, social factors, material luxuries, etc?

SMITH

In Part I Chapter III Smith says, "When the original passions of the person principally concerned are in perfect concord with the sympathetic emotions of the spectator, they necessarily appear to this last just and proper, and suitable to their objects."(page 11 in my different version)

Then in Chapter V he writes "when we are determining the degree of blame or applause which seems due to any action, we very frequently make use of two different standards. The first is the idea of complete propriety."(21) The second is level of propriety expected of most men.

It seems to me that these two standards could be appropriate for judging passions as well. I do not necessarily approve or deem just another's passions simply because I share them. I often experience feelings that I condemn or realize are inappropriate. Smith's 'position of the impartial spectator' seems intended to produce these sorts of realizations. But awareness of a feeling's impropriety does not always dispel it.

Reason and Passion

I think it's interesting to note the way that Smith combines reason with passion in Moral Sentiments. I think other political philosophers--Hobbes, for example--tend to think of reason and passion as two distinct, and sometimes competing, entities. Smith, however, seems to be giving an account of how passions affect our reason, and how our reason tells us to interpret other people's passions and portray our own. The way we reason--our "imagination," and how we judge the reasonableness of one's emotions--affects our "fellow-feeling" that we're able to extend to others. At first it seems somewhat uncompassionate to give reason such a large role in determining how we interpret other people's emotions, but I think Smith is actually proposing a more advanced way to look at the person, since reason and passion do get intertwined/affect each other in the way we interact with other people. I think reason and passion are still separate in some ways for Smith; for example, the person who gets angry when provoked will likely get angry without reasoning about whether that anger is justifiable. However, from the impartial spectator's view, reason will play a large part in determining whether one's anger is justified, and whether other people will sympathize with that anger.

A start on Smith and virtue...

I find Smith's idea of human virtue very interesting, especially because it seems to contradict with his general image of the self-interested economist. Smith discusses two sets of virtues, "the soft, the gentle, the amiable virtues, the virtues of candid condescension and indulgent humanity," and "the great, the awful, and the respectable, the virtues of self-denial, of self-government..." (19) I find these two sets interesting, as they are clearly opposites and in his initial description Smith points out seemingly problematic qualities of each of the sets. Indeed, it is easy to think about how something like loyalty might be a virtue, but at the same time loyalty without prudence seems to be a vice. Smith brings up this point that the extremes of either of the two types of virtues are bad, rather an individual must be balanced in order to be virtuous. "Virtue is excellence," meaning that people must go beyond the expected and easy to be virtuous (20). Virtue means a balance between the amiable and the great. Smith says that "to feel much for others, and little for ourselves, that to restrain our selfish, and to indulge our benevolent, affections, constitutes the perfection of human nature," as people must be amiable but must also possess self-command (20). I think this view of virtue is pretty convincing, as he goes above and beyond mere propriety to a greater sense of virtue.

Smith's "impartialness"

Smith's account of moral sentimentalism in The Theory of Moral Sentiments rests largely in his understanding of sympathy, a human emotion that arises when we imagine how we would feel in the same situation as someone else is experiencing. The correct type of sympathy, or morally superior type according to Smith, is the feeling an “impartial spectator” would have towards the individual in the given situation. This is important to Smith’s moral account because having sympathy for another is essentially to approve of the individual's reaction to a situation.

Thus the "impartial spectator" plays a large role in Smith's account, as this individual is supposed to respond as one would if following “moral norms.” The problem is that this displayal of such norms becomes Smith’s account for what is moral; however, as we know, existing as a societal institution does not equate being inherently moral (or just, or righteous, etc). Indeed it is obvious that Smith’s spectator reflects time-specific societal norms, but it is concerning how Smith takes these norms (sympathizing with the rich, looking down upon the poor) to be inherent to human conception of understanding one another. How well we sympathize with another person is entirely dependent on our own personal experiences; Smith would not deny that we can most easily feel whatever another is feeling if we have had a similar experience in our lifetime, but he focuses not enough on how these variances should have an equal influence on the spectator’s decisions. 

Overall, Smith also fails to focus on an innate (and extremely valuable) human feeling of compassion, perhaps the most important type of sympathy of all. Instead, Smith’s account glorifies the wealthy and powerful while assume that the poor lives shameful lives with limited senses of self-worth.

Living like a Kantian

I thought you all might enjoy this article, written by Ryan Park, a former clerk to Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg. Park details the birth of his daughter and a transition from clerking to homemaking back to practicing law. He writes about how his wife took time off from medical school to support him during his clerkship, then he did the same to support her during her residency.

It was in this spirit that I decided to take a short break from my career and experience life as a stay-at-home dad. My wife, without really even considering doing otherwise, had already taken almost a year off from medical school after Caitlyn was born, partly to support me during a challenging clerkship, and partly because she believed it would be good for Caitlyn’s development. But mostly it was for my wife herself. She valued motherhood and wanted to experience it fully, for as long as she could without jeopardizing her professional goals. I felt exactly the same way. My deepest fear is that, decades from now, I will look back at the heart of my life and realize I made the wrong choices in favor of work.

 The passage above also illustrates the importance Park places on spending time with his daughter. In more ways than one, I immediately connected Park's life choices with those advocated by Hampton. The relationship he has with his wife is one in which equal "sacrifices" (although he would probably contend that taking time off was not a sacrifice) are taken by both parties within their marriage. It is also one in which the relationship with his daughter is certainly one in which he takes care of her, but he gets just as much, if not more, out of the relationship. Nothing earth-shattering here, but I thought it was a nice illustration of something along the lines of Hampton's philosophy in practice.