Hauptli

As noted in I.I.I, all of the “perceptions of the mind” are divided by Hume into impressions and ideas. The former may be further divided into original impressions (that is, impressions of sense) and secondary impressions (that is, impressions of reflection). According to Hume, the latter involve our passions and emotions, and they are the subject of Books II and III of the Treatise. As we saw in Book I, in the case of the “impressions of reflection,” what we find is that an impression [of heat, hunger, pleasure, or pain] yields an idea which “remains after the impression ceases” [p. 8]. The idea of pleasure or pain, when it “returns upon the soul, produces the new impressions of desire and aversion, hope and fear, which may properly be called impressions of reflection, because derived from it. These again are copied by the memory or imagination, and become ideas; which perhaps in their turn give rise to other impressions and ideas” [p. 8]. As Robert Paul Wolff notes,

...Hume believed that moral sentiments, passions, and empirical beliefs are all responses of the mind to the presented world rather than given contents of experience. Just as love, hatred, approval, and disapproval are second-level reactions of the mind to experience, so also the beliefs in causal necessity and physical objects result from the mind’s “reflection” upon its sensations.[1]

Many would, of course, draw a distinction between the passions and emotions (the latter being more forceful, directly experienced, and vivid and in the cognitive foreground; the former being [often] less forceful, not [usually] directly experienced, and “in the background”). Hume, however, holds that they are all impressions, and, thus, they are experienced. As Terence Penelhum notes in his “Hume’s Moral Psychology,”

epistemology has never had much of a place in popular culture. But the rationalist understanding of human nature has a strong hold on the common understanding of our choices. We pride ourselves on the supposed fact that we are able sometimes to choose courses of action that override our passions and desires in light of a greater good. We pride ourselves on the supposed fact that when we do this, we exercise the power to be free from the influences and temptations that would otherwise condemn us to what Kant calls heteronomy. And we particularly pride ourselves on the supposed fact that we are able to pursue the austere demands of duty and so, putting inclination aside, function as pillars of society.[2]

Given Hume’s skepticism, it should not be surprising that he rejects this picture! In II.III.III, he says (in one of the most important passages of the Treatise):

415 nothing can oppose or retard the impulse of passion, but a contrary impulse; and if this contrary impulse ever arises from reason, that latter faculty must have an original influence on the will, and must be able to cause, as well as hinder any act of volition. But if reason has no original influence, ’tis impossible it can withstand any principle, which has such an efficacy, or ever keep the mind in suspense a moment. Thus it appears, that the principle, which opposes our passion, cannot be the same with reason, and is only call’d so in an improper sense. We speak not strictly and philosophically when we talk of the combat of passion and of reason. Reason is, and ought only to be the slave of the passions, and can never pretend to any other office than to serve and obey them.

Hume’s account of human nature, then, assigns primacy to our “passionate side” rather than to our rational side. The sort of “rationalistic pride” noted by Penelhum above (the word, I believe, is intentionally selected by Penelhum), actually reveals to Hume that there are some basic impressions of reflection (that is passions and emotions) which function to determine our actions (that is, they influence the will) and to counter other passions and emotions. To understand how this is the case, of course, we will need to understand first what Hume considers the passions and emotions to be.

I will only add to this “introduction” to this Book that any good Medievalist would note that from Augustine to Anselm, emphasis was placed upon recognition of the importance of both pride and shame [humility]—it was only after one recognized the transcendental importance of these concepts, that one could both come to understand the universe and begin to pursue proper worship of the deity! Clearly, Hume’s naturalistic account of human nature will differ from such “supernaturalisms,” but I am struck by the similarity of the “first steps.”

every passion is a unique, simple secondary impression. What makes it the passion it is, rather than some other, is therefore the felt quality it has. Questions about how it arises and how it leads to other experiences or to actions are construed by Hume as causal questions to be dealt with within his Newtonian mental science. In calling them secondary impressions, Hume seeks to distinguish them from the sensory impressions, which he calls “original”—a term indicating (here at least) that they do not occur in us as a consequence of prior perceptions, as the secondary ones do. Passions, then, always arise in us from mental causes: sensory impressions, ideas, or other passions. When they arise from other passions, they do so by association. There is, therefore, an association of impressions (based on resemblance), as well as an association of ideas.[3]

For Hume an important distinction will be between the “intensity” of a passion and its “strength”—its degree of influence upon our actions. Though his terminology may seem misleading, what he calls [see II.I.I immediately below] “calm passions” may have far more strength than “violent passions,” and thus, prevent us from acting along lines encouraged by the latter! As Penelhum notes:

this is presumably what happens when we choose the good over the alluring—so that the aching longing for the dessert loses out to the wish to stay slim, which agitates [one] not at all [that is, is much “calmer”]. So those occasions when we think our reason has won out over passion are actually cases in which a clam passion has shown more strength than a violent one.[4]

The first part of Book II, then deals with pride and humility (or shame), and kindred passions, which, as we shall see, Hume categories them as simple, uniform, indirect passions (or impressions of reflection) which have the self as their object. They “proceed from” pleasure and pain “in conjunction with other qualities.” Part II will deal with love, hatred, and other kindred indirect passions which have others as their object. Part III will deal with what he terms the direct passions (desire, aversion, grief, joy, hope, and fear [p. 438]) and with the determination of the will. These arise immediately from pleasure and pain (or as he says “good and evil”), and they can directly determine the will. As Hume says [II.III.III]:

414 ’tis obvious, that when we have the prospect of pain or pleasure from any object, we feel a consequent emotion of aversion or propensity, and we are carry’d to avoid or embrace that what will give us this uneasiness or satisfaction. ’Tis also obvious, that this emotion rests not here, but making us cast our view on every side, comprehends whatever objects are connected with its original one by the relation of cause and effect. Here then reasoning takes place to discover this relation; and according as our reasoning varies, our actions receive a subsequent variation. But ’tis evident in this case, that the impulse arises not from reason, but is only directed by it. ’Tis from the prospect of pain or pleasure that the aversion or propensity arises towards any object; And these emotions extend themselves to the causes and effects of that object, at they are pointed out to us by reason and experience.

But here I am way too far ahead of the story. We must begin where Hume does, with the indirect passions.

275 Impressions, ideas and the distinction between impressions of sense and of reflection are again drawn.

-276 “Bodily pains and pleasures are the source of many passions, both when felt and consider’d by the mind; but [they] arise originally in the soul, or in the body, whichever you please to call it, without any preceding thought or perception. A fit of gout produces a long train of passions, as grief, hope, fear; but is not deriv’d immediately from any affection or idea.

The reflective impressions may be divided into two kinds, viz. the calm and the violent.”

-According to Hume the calm reflective impressions are (generally speaking) the emotions “arising from beauty and deformity; while the violent reflective impressions are the passions of “love and hatred, grief and joy, pride and humility.”

--He recognizes that poetry and music can raise the calm reflective impression of beauty (emotion) to passionate heights (passion), and the violent reflective impressions of the strongest passions are subject to decay into “soft” emotions.

-Hume contends that “by direct passions I understand such as arise immediately from good or evil, from pain or pleasure. By indirect [he understands] such as proceed from the same principles, but by the conjunction of other qualities.”

--276-277 Examples of indirect passions: pride, humility, ambition, vanity, love, hatred, envy, pity, malice, generosity, and the passions that depend upon them. Most of Parts I and II of Book II are concerned to trace out the how the indirect passions proceed from pleasure and pain (good and evil) in “conjunction with other qualities.” According to Penelhum, “...the indirect passions require a distinction between their causes and their objects: between roughly the qualities that occasion them and the persons (that is, oneself or another or others) who have them. The fundamental indirect passions are those of pride and humility (that is, shame), where the object is oneself, and love and hatred, where the object is another person or persons. In each case, the passion only arises when we are conscious not only of the quality that causes it, but of the fact that it is possessed by, or due to, the self or another—the “object, to which it is directed.”[5]

-277 Examples of the direct passions include: desire, aversion, grief, joy, hope, fear, despair, and security.

--At II.III.IX, Hume will allow that some of the direct passions may “arise from a natural impulse or instinct, which is perfectly unaccountable,” and this would seem to make some of them, at least “original” (as are the impressions of sense). These include “reactive emotions” and desires which rank amongst the most basic determinants of our actions.

Hume begins his discussion of the indirect passions by talking about pride and humility.

277 ’Tis evident, that pride and humility, tho’ directly contrary, have yet the same OBJECT. This object is self, or that succession or related ideas and impressions, of which we have an intimate memory and consciousness….When self enters not into the consciousness, there is no room either for pride or humility.

-Critical comment: of course as we have seen, this very “self” is “something” he expresses considerable skepticism about! Cf., II.I.XI [pp. 317 and 320], II.II.IV [p. 354], Appendix [p. 635].

278-279 To begin with the causes of pride and humility; we may observe, that their most obvious and remarkable property is the vast variety of subjects, on which they may be plac’d. Every valuable quality of the mind, whether of the imagination, judgment, memory or disposition; wit, good-sense, learning, courage, justice, integrity; all these are the causes of pride; and their opposites of humility. Nor are these passions confin’d to the mind, but extend their view to the body likewise. A man may be proud of his beauty, strength, agility, good mein, address in dancing, riding, fencing, and of his dexterity in any manual business or manufacture. But this is not all. The passion looking farther, comprehend whatever objects are in the least ally’d or related to us. Our country, family, children, relations, riches, houses, gardens, houses, dogs, cloaths; any of these may become a cause of pride or humility.

He uses the example of a person’s pride in his house to clarify the cause and nature of the passion of pride, and a full understanding of this is going to take us through a number of difficult passages:

280 Hume points out here that in understanding the indirect passions we will need to distinguish the object of the passion and the cause of the passion. Moreover, in the cause we will need to distinguish between the quality “which operates on the passion” and the subject in which the quality inheres. This passage leads us directly to the following one on p. 286-287:

That cause, which excites the passion, is related to the object, which nature has attributed to the passion; the sensation, which the cause separately produces, is related to the sensation of the passion: From this double relation of ideas and impressions, the passion is deriv’d. The one idea is easily converted into its cor-relative; and the one impression in to that, which resembles and corresponds to it: With how much greater facility must this transition be made, where these movements mutually assist each other, and the mind receives a double impulse from the relation both of its impressions and ideas.

286 That cause, which excites the passion, is related to the object, which nature has attributed to the passion;’ the sensation, which the cause separately produces, is related to the sensation of the passion: From this double relation of ideas and impressions, the passion is deriv’d.

-289 “In a word, nature has bestow’d a kind of attraction on certain impressions and ideas, by which one of them, upon its appearance, naturally introduces its correlative. If these two attractions or associations of impressions and ideas concur on the same object, they mutually assist each other and the transition of the affections and of the imagination is made with the greatest ease and facility.”

-289-290 “To illustrate this hypothesis, we may compare it to that, by which I have already explain’d the belief attending the judgments which we form from causation. I have observ’d, that in all judgments of this kind, there is always a present impression, and a related idea; and that the present impression gives a vivacity to the fancy, and the relation conveys this vivacity, by an easy transition, to the related idea. Without the present impression, the attention is not fix’d, nor the spirits excited. Without the relation, this attention rests on its first object, and has no farther consequence. There is evidently a great analogy between that hypothesis, and our present one of an impression and idea, that transfuse themselves into another impression and idea by means of their double relation.”

316 Hume contends that in addition to the sources of pride and humility he has discussed thus far, “...there is a secondary one in the opinions of others, which has an equal influence on the affections. Our reputation, our character, our name are considerations of vast weight and importance; and even the other causes of pride: virtue, beauty and riches; have little influence, when not seconded by the opinions and sentiments of others. In order to account for this phaenomenon ‘twill be necessary to take some compass, and first explain the nature of sympathy.

No quality of human nature is more remarkable, both in itself and in its consequences, than the propensity we have to sympathize with others, and to receive by communication their inclinations and sentiments, however different from, or even contrary to our own. This is not only conspicuous in children, who implicitly embrace every opinion propos’d to them; but also in men of the greatest judgment and understanding, who find it very difficult to follow their own reason or inclination, in opposition to that of their friends and daily companions.”

-317 “’Tis evident, that the idea, or rather impression of ourselves is always intimately present with us, and that our consciousness gives us so lively a conception of our own person, that ‘tis not possible to imagine, that any thing can in this particular go beyond it.”

--Critical Comment: we need, of course to think about this passage given what he said earlier about our ability to know/experience the self. Compare this passage with p.; 277 and p. 320; and contrast it with p. 635.

-318 “...where beside the general resemblance of our natures, there is any peculiar similarity in our manners, or character, our country, or language, it facilitates the sympathy. The stronger the relation is betwixt ourselves and any object, the more easily does the imagination make the transition, and convey to the related idea the vivacity of our conception, with which we always form the idea of our own person.”

399 …by the will, I mean nothing but the internal impression we feel and are conscious of, when we knowingly give rise to any new motion of our body, or new perception of our mind.

407 …’tis difficult for us to perswade ourselves we are govern’d by necessity….

409 I define necessity two ways, conformable to the two definitions of cause, of which it makes an essential part. I place it either in the constant union and conjunction of like objects, or in the inference of the mind from the one to the other.

413 Hume begins this section by characterizing what Penelhum above called the “rationalist understanding of human nature”—the view which distinguishes the rational and passionate faculties and holds that individuals must regulate their behavior by using reason to control the passions. In contrast to this “picture,” Hume holds that “...reason alone can never be a motive to any action of the will; and secondly, that it can never oppose passion in the direction of the will.”

414 “’Tis obvious, that when we have the prospect of pain or pleasure from any object, we feel a consequent emotion of aversion or propensity, and we are carry’d to avoid or embrace that what will give us this uneasiness or satisfaction. ’Tis also obvious, that this emotion rests not here, but making us cast our view on every side, comprehends whatever objects are connected with its original one by the relation of cause and effect. Here then reasoning takes place to discover this relation; and according as our reasoning varies, our actions receive a subsequent variation. But ’tis evident in this case, that the impulse arises not from reason, but is only directed by it. ’Tis from the prospect of pain or pleasure that the aversion or propensity arises towards any object; And these emotions extend themselves to the causes and effects of that object, at they are pointed out to us by reason and experience.”

415 “Nothing can oppose or retard the impulse of passion, but a contrary impulse; and if this contrary impulse ever arises from reason, that latter faculty must have an original influence on the will, and must be able to cause, as well as hinder any act of volition. But if reason has no original influence, ’is impossible it can withstand any principle, which has such an efficacy, or ever keep the mind in suspense a moment. Thus it appears, that the principle, which opposes our passion, cannot be the same with reason, and is only call’d so in an improper sense. We speak not strictly and philosophically when we talk of the combat of passion and of reason. Reason is, and ought only to be the slave of the passions, and can never pretend to any other office than to serve and obey them.”

416 “Since a passion can never, in any sense, be call’d unreasonable, but when founded on a false supposition, or when it chuses means insufficient for the design’d end, ’is impossible, that reason and passion can ever oppose each other, or dispute for the government of the will and actions. The moment we perceive the falsehood of any supposition, or the insufficiency of any means or passions yield to our reason without any opposition.”

-417-418 Hume notes that both the calm and the violent passions can determine the will, and when they conflict, “...either of them prevails, according to the general character or present disposition of the person.”

-418 Hume equates “strength of mind” with a prevalence of the calm emotions.

422 “But nothing has a greater effect both to encrease and diminish our passions, to convert pleasure into pain, and pain into pleasure, than custom and repetition. Custom has two original effects upon the mind, in bestowing a facility in the performance of any action or the conception of any object; and afterwards a tendency or inclination towards it; and from these we may account for all its other effects, however extraordinary.”

Here, briefly, we need to go to a passage on p. 490 and discuss the role of convention as we sort out “habit,” “custom,” “convention,” and “law” for Hume’s discussion of morality.

In his “Hume, Human Nature, and the Foundations of Morality,” David Fate Norton maintains that this Book of the Treatise:

...addresses itself directly to the dispute regarding the foundations of morals. The work begins with a discussion showing that reason is not, and that sentiment or feeling is, the means by which we are able to mark the distinction between virtue and vice. Hume defends, in effect, a causal theory of moral perception, one in which an impartial consideration of intention, motive, or character (the relevant durable principles of mind) are said to give rise to “peculiar” pleasures and pains, the unique moral sentiments.[6]

Norton begins his article with the following citation from Hume’s “A Kind of History of My Life” (written early in his life [1734]):

I found that the moral Philosophy transmitted to us by Antiquity, labor’d under the same Inconvenience that has been found in their natural Philosophy, of being entirely Hypothetical, & depending more upon Invention than Experience. Every one consulted his Fancy in erecting Schemes of Virtue & of Happiness, without regarding human Nature, upon which every moral Conclusion must depend. This therefore I resolved to make my principal Study, & the source from which I wou’d derive every Truth in Criticism as well as Morality.[7]

As we shall see, Hume’s account of morals will contend that moral distinctions are “derived” from our emotions, passions and feelings, and not from our reason.

457 “Since morals...have an influence on the actions and affections, it follows, that they cannot be deriv’d from reason; and that because reason alone, as we have already prov’d, can never have any such influence. Morals excite passions, and produce or prevent actions. Reason of itself is utterly impotent in this particular. The rules of morality, therefore, are not conclusions of our reason.”

-466-467 Hume discusses similar relations between humans and animals or plants (parricide, and trees being overgrown by their saplings; incest, and similar behavior in animals) which lead to the conclusion that morality is not a relation discoverable by reason—if it were, these cases would be alike.

468-469 Thus, Hume contends, morality is not a “matter of fact,” it is a matter of the “passions, motives, volitions, and thoughts:” “take any action allow’d to be vicious: Willful murder, for instance. Examine it in all lights, and see if you can find that matter of fact, or real existence, which you call vice. In which-ever way you take it, you find only certain passions, motives, volitions, and thoughts. There is no matter of fact in the case. The vice entirely escapes you, as long as you consider the object. You never can find it, till you turn your reflection into your own breast, and find a sentiment of disapprobation which arises in you, towards this action.” Here is a matter of fact; but ‘tis the object of feeling not of reason. It lies in yourself, not in the object. So that when you pronounce any action or character to be vicious, you mean nothing, but that from the constitution of your nature you have a feeling or sentiment of blame from the contemplation of it. Vice and virtue, therefore, may be compar’d to sounds, colours, heat and cold, which according to modern philosophy, are not qualities in objects, but perceptions in the mind.”

-But note that “a matter of passion, volition, and thought” is a fact—a fact of passion, etc.: [469:] “Here is a matter of fact; but ‘tis the object of feeling, not of reason. It lies in your-self, not in the object.”

-Criticism and Response: Of course this immediately raises a concern: if morality is a matter of passion, and not a "fact" (or matter of reason), then how does it get its normative force—especially in cases where people may lack the requisite passions. In short, if morality is based upon our “sympathy” (or “fellow feeling”), then what of the individual wholly devoid of this passion or feeling—is morality not binding on them? As Hume says in his An Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals [1751]:

...a sensible knave, in particular incidents, may think that an act of iniquity or infidelity will make a considerable addition to his fortune, without causing any considerable breach in the social union and confederacy. That honesty is the best policy, may be a good general rule, but is liable to many exceptions, and he may perhaps be thought, conducts himself with most wisdom, who observes the general rule, and takes advantage of all the exceptions.

I must confess that, if a man think that this reasoning much requires an answer, it would be a little difficulty to find any which will to him appear satisfactory and convincing. If his heart rebel not against such pernicious maxims, if he feel no reluctance to the thoughts of villainy or baseness, he has indeed lost a considerable motive to virtue, and we may expect that is practice will be answerable to his speculation. But in all ingenious natures, the antipathy to treachery and roguery is too strong to be counter-balanced by any views of profit or pecuniary advantage. Inward peace of mind, consciousness of integrity, a satisfactory review of our own conduct; these are circumstances very requisite to happiness and will be cherished and cultivated by every honest man, who feels the importance of them.[8]

--Commenting on this passage in her The Sources of Normativity, Christine Korsgaard contends that “morality provides a set of pleasures of its own, a set of pleasures which the knave loses out on. Because of sympathy, the sense that you are loveable and worthy in the eyes of others makes you lovable and worthy in your own. For the same reason, the sense that you are detestable in the eyes of others makes you detestable in your own. And morality provides these feelings regardless of whether you think that morality is justified or not. This fact enables Hume to add the familiar claim that virtue is its own reward of the ways in which virtue promotes self-interest without any circularity at all.”[9] Korsgaard offers an excellent treatment of the problem, and an argument that Hume’s response is adequate which I find compelling. [10]

--Of course, anyone wholly devoid of sympathy (or “fellow feeling”) would be wholly unmoved by these considerations, and, to make matters worse, such arguments seem to deprive morality of its “binding force”—of the “power” it is supposed to have to over-ride other considerations such as self-interest. We shall see that as Hume develops his theory, he contends that the necessity of the social contract for all of us, and that our natural sympathy works with this necessity to minimize the likelihood of such knavery—thus providing both the “binding force” and the “universality” which such knavery brings to the foreground. Ultimately, however, his moral theory can only stand on the “facts” of our passions and feelings! Before we can assess the seriousness of the problem for him, and the adequacy of his response, we must turn to another very important claim.

469-470 In one of the most famous passages in the Treatise, Hume contends that one can’t deduce an “ought” from an “is.” This passage summarizes what is now often called “Hume’s Law,” and it is commonly taken to present a fundamental difficulty to any theory which endeavors to find a “non-moral foundation” for morality. As A.C. MacIntyre maintains, in his “Hume on “Is” and “Ought”,” if this commonly accepted picture of Hume’s view was correct, “...the first breach of Hume’s law was committed by Hume; that is, the development of Hume’s own moral theory does not square with what he is taken to assert about “is” and “ought.””[11]

MacIntyre’s essay rejects the most common interpretation of this passage in the Treatise. According to him, for Hume, “...the transition from “is” to “ought” is made...by the notion of “wanting.” And this is no accident. Aristotle’s examples of practical syllogisms typically have a premise which includes some such terms as “suits” or “pleases.” We could give a long list of the concepts which can form such bridge notions between “is” and “ought”: wanting, needing, desiring, pleasure, happiness, health—and these are only a few. I think there is a strong case for saying that moral notions are unintelligible apart from concepts such as these. The philosopher who has obscured the issue here is Kant whose classification of imperatives into categorical and hypothetical removes any link between what is good and right and what we need and desire at one blow....

....in the “is” and “ought” passage....[Hume] is first urging us to take note of the key point where we do pass from “is” to “ought” and arguing that this is a difficult transition. In the next part of the Treatise he shows us how it can be made: clearly in the passage itself he is concerned to warn us against those who make this transition in an illegitimate way.”[12] I find MacIntyre’s essay compelling.

Note the first section of this Part of Book III is titled “Moral Distinctions not deriv’d from Reason.” As we say, he contends that one can’t derive an ‘ought’ from ‘is’ by any sort of rational process. Nonetheless, he contends, there are “facts about our passions or feelings” which do provide for moral distinctions. Thus, almost immediately after he offers his view that reason can’t “derive” our moral distinctions, he immediately tells us from whence we may "derive" them: our “moral sense!" That is, morality will not be founded on “objects,” nor on our “impressions and ideas,” but, rather, in our emotions, passions, or feelings. Of course, this "derivation" will not be a “rational” one! Just as with belief, for Hume, which is something which is to be explained as a contribution of our minds, so morality will find its source and explanation in the operations of our mind and its passions.

470 “Thus the course of the argument leads us to conclude that since vice and virtue are not discoverable merely by reason, or the comparison of ideas, it must be by means of some impression or sentiment [which] they occasion, that we are able to mark the difference betwixt them....Morality, therefore, is more properly felt than judg’d of; tho’ this feeling or sentiment is commonly so soft and gentle, that we are apt to confound it with an idea....”

-471 According to Hume, “we do not infer a character to be virtuous because it pleases: But in feeling that it pleases after such a particular manner, we in effect feel that it is virtuous.” That is [earlier on the page], “an action, or sentiment, or character is virtuous or vicious...because its view causes a pleasure or uneasiness of a particular kind....”

David Fate Norton offers an analysis of Hume’s concept of duty which helps “flesh out” MacIntyre’s claim that Hume does derive “ought”s from some “is”s: “what account of obligation or duty can be derived from the text of the Treatise? Human nature is again the key. Because human nature is uniform, human action generally follows certain patterns: there is a natural or usual course of behavior that corresponds to the passions or motivating principles that constitute human nature. (T 3.2.1, 483). Consequently, we expect behaviour to conform to these patterns. When it fails to do so, our expectations are disappointed, and we respond with feelings of disapprobation or blame.”[13]

-He contends that: “Hume’s admittedly meager remarks suggest that our idea of concept of duty is the consequence of an experiential process that is structurally similar to the process that gives rise to the idea of necessary connection. The idea of necessary connection derives, according to Hume, from the impression of expectation that arises on the occasion of the experience of a particular event of type A after events of type B have been repeatedly experienced to follow closely the experience of A’s. Hume’s remarks about duty suggest that a similar impression of expectation underlies our idea of moral obligation, as well as that of blame, and at least some forms of approbation. “Our sense of duty always follows the common and natural course of our passions,” he says (T 3.2.1, 484). From this common course of human nature comes the expectation that certain actions will be performed. When those actions fail to be performed, we feel disappointment or disapproval just when, if the actions had been carried out, we would have been pleased or approving. Feelings of disapproval of just this particular type (feelings that are distinctive at least in so far as they arise in just these circumstances), copied in one of the several ways in which ideas copy themselves, become the idea of blame, or the idea that an individual ought to have acted in some particular way. Blame, generalized, to apply to all who ought so to act, becomes the concept of duty. The idea of duty is derived from the impression of expectation; the sense of duty is just that impression when it is associated with this generalized concept of blame. Duty or obligation cannot be deduced from factual premises, but they are derived from the facts of human experience.[14]

474 “…the sentiments of morality….are so rooted in our constitution and temper, that without entirely confounding the human mind by disease or madness, ‘tis impossible to extirpate and destroy them.” That is, they are natural and universal.

-Here we should go to Book III Part III Section I and his discussion on p. 574-579—taking up the “natural virtues and vices” for a moment before turning to his discussion of the “artificial virtue” of justice which he discusses first.

As was the case in Book II, Hume seems to begin the discussion of the moral virtues “backwards.” In Book II he talks about the “indirect” passions before discussing the “direct” ones, and here he discusses the “artificial” moral virtues before discussing the “natural” ones. The parallel in Book I, it would seem, would be to discuss “ideas” before discussing “impressions.” There may be a method to this “madness” however. By discussing the more complex passions and moral virtues first, he may facilitate our understanding of the complex “double relations” and “feed-back loops” which are involved in causing and strengthening our passions and moral sensibilities. Moreover, by discussing “justice” first, and “sympathy” second, he can discuss factors which mitigate our egoistic tendencies and help “set up” his discussion of “sympathy” which is of primary import to his account of morality.

483-484 “A man naturally loves his children better than his nephews, his nephews better than his cousins, his cousins better than strangers, where every thing else is equal….Our sense of duty always follows the common and natural course of our passions.

…when I deny justice to be a natural virtue, I make use of the word natural, only as oppos’d to artificial. In another sense of the word; as no principle of the human mind is more natural than a sense of virtue; so no virtue is more natural than a sense of justice.”

485 Hume argues that only by being in society may human beings overcome certain “natural defects”—specifically our lack of sufficient force to accomplish our aims; our inability to individually master all the arts and talents necessary to accomplish our aims, and our inconstancy of success in accomplishing our aims: “society provides a remedy for these three inconveniences. By the conjunction of forces, our power is augmented: By the partition of employments, our ability encreases; And by mutual succor we are less expos’d to fortune and accidents. ’Tis by this additional force, ability, and security that society becomes advantageous.”

-Thus, for him, society is “natural,” and we find that it is, indeed, necessary.

-486 Hume notes, however, that our selfishness, is destabilizing to society, which is so important to us. This is a core element in the cause of our moral concepts of justice and property: “…the circumstances of human nature may render an union necessary, and however those passions of lust and natural affection may seen to render it unavoidable; yet there are other particulars, in our natural temper, and in our outward circumstances, which are very incommodious, and even contrary to the requisite conjunction. Among the former, we may justly esteem our selfishness to be the most considerable.”

489 Hume contends that the “contracts and conventions” which establish justice and property produce stability. “By this means, every one knows what he may safely possess; and the passions are restrain’d in their partial and contradictory motions. Nor is such a restraint contrary to these passions; for if so, it cou’d never be enter’d into, nor maintain’d; but it is only contrary to their headless and impetuous movement. instead of departing from our own interest, for from that of our nearest friends, by abstaining from the possessions of others, we cannot better consult both these interests, than by such a convention; because it is by that means we maintain society, which is so necessary to their well-being and subsistence, as well as to our own.”

-490 He gives a compelling metaphor for explaining how “conventions” arise without the need for informed, conscious, and explicit “contracting”—his example of rowing. This sort of account is an important element in his “social contract”—and important to further efforts to advance such theories.

498-500 After men have found by experience, that their selfishness and confin’d generosity, acting at their liberty, totally incapacitate them for society: and at the same time have observ’d, that society is necessary to the satisfaction of those very passions, they are naturally induc’d to lay themselves under the restraint of such rules, as may render their commerce more safe and commodious. To the imposition then, and observance of these rules, both in general, and in every particular instance, they are at first induc’d only by a regard to interest; and this motive, on the first formation of society, is sufficiently strong and forcible. But when society has become numerous, and has encreas’d to a tribe or nation, this interest is more remote; nor do men so readily perceive that disorder and confusion follow upon every breach of these rules, as in a more narrow and contracted society….Thus, self-interest is the original motive to the establishment of justice; but a sympathy with public interest is the source of the moral approbation which attends that virtue.

-In short, for Hume the moral virtues of justice and property may have an initial seat in our self-interest, but because society is natural, and because justice and property are necessary for society, and because we have a social sympathy, there is an additional “factor” which is causally relevant here—it is our propensity to have sympathy for others which gives morality its force. Moreover, and distinct from all of this, since society is not simply based on self-interest, but is also fostered and caused by our sympathy for others, this constitutes another element in the cause for these virtues—in short, there is a feed-back loop at work here which increases the passions involved here! We need to look carefully at this complex picture!

--While Hume’s general analysis of justice, property, and promising show how important they are for civil society, and why civil society is necessary for man. Once society becomes sufficiently large, the problem of the free-rider [the sensible knave] emerges as most serious. While it may be true, generally speaking, that the moral virtues of property, justice, and promise-keeping can have a source in self-interest, once it is no longer clear that violating each of these might be in one’s self-interest, some other factor must come into play if the argument isn’t to fall apart. For Hume, clearly, this element is sympathy. To facilitate our understanding of his analysis and argument, it may help to look at what distinguishes Hobbes’ and Hume’s analysis of property and justice. What makes Hume’s account a moral one, rather than reducing the consideration of this “virtue” to considerations of prudence? The interplay between interest and sympathy here, and the feed-back loop, help to provide the answer to this and also provide Hume’s answer to the questions of the “over-riding force” and “relativism” of morals which, it was suggested might arise out of founding morality on “feelings.”

Having addressed the “artificial” [or “social”] virtues of justice, property, promises and allegiance, Hume now turns to the “natural” virtues. The picture he offers here is one which clearly summarizes his view of how moral concepts arise from our impressions and ideas, our natural inclinations regarding pleasure and pain, our natural desires, and our sympathy for others:

574 The chief spring or actuating principle of the human mind is pleasure or pain, and when these sensations are remov’d, both from our thought and feeling, we are, in a great measure, incapable of passion or action, of desire or volition. The most immediate effects of pleasure and pain are the properties and adverse motions of the mind; which are diversified into volition, into desire and aversion, grief and joy, hope and fear, according as the pleasure of pain changes its situation, and becomes probable or improbable, certain or uncertain, or is consider’d as out of our power for the present moment. But when along with this, the objects, that cause pleasure or pain, acquire a relation to ourselves, or others, they still continue to excite desire and aversion, grief and joy; But cause, at the same time, the indirect passions of pride or humility, love or hatred, which in this case have a double relation of impressions and ideas to the pain or pleasure.

575-576 To discover the true origin of morals, and of that love or hatred, which arises from mental qualities, we must take the matter pretty deep, and compare some principles, which have been already examin’d and explain’d.

We may begin with considering a-new the nature and force of sympathy. The minds of all men are similar in their feelings and operations, nor can any one be actuated by any affection, of which all others are not, in some degree, susceptible. As in strings equally wound up, the motion of one communicates itself to the rest; so all the affections readily pass from one person to another, and beget correspondent movements in every human creature.

578 He points out that the natural virtues, like the social virtues, tend to promote society, and thus they are strengthened by the fact that society is both natural and necessary to us.

-579 The only difference betwixt the natural virtues and justice lies in this, that the good which results from the former, arises from every single act, and is the object of some natural passion; Whereas a single act of justice, consider’d in itself, may often be contrary to the public good; and ’tis only the concurrence of mankind, in a general scheme or system of action, which is advantageous. When I relieve persons in distress, my natural humanity is my motive; and so far as my succor extends, so far have I promoted the happiness of my fellow-creatures. But if we examine all the questions, that come before any tribunal of justice, we shall find, that, considering each case apart, it wou’d as often be an instance of humanity to decide contrary to the laws of justice as conformable to them.

618 …sympathy is the chief source of moral distinctions ....Justice is certainly approv'd of for no other reason, than because it has a tendency to the public good: And the public good is indifferent to us, except so far as sympathy interests us in it.

-618-619 Most people will readily allow, that the useful qualities of the mind are virtuous, because of their utility. This way of thinking is so natural, and occurs on so many occasions, that few will make any scruple of admitting it. Now this being once admitted, the focus of sympathy musts necessarily be acknowledg’d. Virtue is consider’d as means to an end. Means to an end are only valued so far as the end is valued. But happiness of strangers affects us by sympathy alone. To that principle, therefore, we are to ascribe the sentiment of approbation, which arises from the survey of all those virtues, that are useful to society, or to the person, possess’d of them.

-619 It requires but very little knowledge of human affairs to perceive, that a sense of morals is a principle inherent in the soul, and one of the most powerful that enters into the composition. But this sense must certainly acquire new force, when reflecting on itself, it approves of those principles, from whence it is deriv’d and finds nothing but what is great and good in its rise and origin.

--In discussing the passage, Korsgaard maintains that here Hume points to the importance of “reflective endorsement” for morality: “reflection on the origin of our moral sentiments only serves to strengthen those sentiments. The moral sense approves of its own origins and workings and so it approves of itself.”[15]

619-620 Tho’ justice be artificial, the sense of its morality is natural. ’Tis the combination of men, in a system of conduct, which renders any act of justice beneficial to society. But when once it has that tendency, we naturally approve of it; and if we did not so, ’tis impossible any combination or convention cou’d ever produce that sentiment.

Notes: [to return to text at the point of the note, click on the note number below]

[1] Robert Paul Wolff, “Hume’s Theory of Mental Activity,” op. cit., p. 102. Emphasis added to passage.

[2] Terence Penelhum, “Hume’s Moral Psychology,” in The Cambridge Companion to Hume, ed. David Fate Norton (Cambridge: Cambridge U.P., 1993), pp. 117-147, p. 125.

[3] Ibid., pp. 125-126. Emphasis added to passage.

[4] Ibid., p. 127.

[5] Ibid., p 126. Emphasis added to passage.

[6] David Fate Norton, “Hume, Human Nature, and the Foundations of Morality,” in The Cambridge Companion to Hume, ed. David Fate Norton, op. cit., pp. 148-181, pp. 163-164.

[7] David Hume, “A Kind of History of My Life” [1734], in The Cambridge Companion to Hume, ed. David Fate Norton, op. cit., pp. 345-350, p. 348. This work is on reserve and available in the Green Library at the check-out desk.

[8] David Hume, An Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals [1751] in Hume’s Enquiries Concerning the Human Understanding and Concerning the Principles of Morals, L.A. Shelby-Biggie, ed. (second edition) (Oxford: Oxford U.P., 1966), Section ix Part II at end, pp. 282-284.

[9] Christine Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity (Cambridge: Cambridge U.P., 1996), pp. 59-60.

[10] Cf., ibid., pp. 55-63.

[11] A.C. MacIntyre, “Hume on “Is” and “Ought,” in Hume, ed. V.C. Chappell, op. cit., pp. 240-264, p. 242. The essay originally appeared in The Philosophical Review v. 68 (1959).

[12] Ibid., pp. 257-258, emphasis is added to the passage.

[13] David Fate Norton, “Hume, Human Nature, and the Foundations of Morality,” op. cit., p. 169.

[14] Ibid., pp. 170-171.

[15] Christine Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, op. cit., p. 63.

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