Part VI, Section III, Chapter II

Of Those Systems Which Make Reason the Principle of Approbation.

Mr. Hobbes famously taught that the state of nature is a state of war, and that before civil government was established, people could have no safe and peaceful society. On his account, preserving society therefore meant upholding civil government, and destroying civil government meant ending society. But civil government's existence depends on obedience to the supreme magistrate: the moment he loses his authority, government ends. Thus if self-preservation teaches people to applaud whatever benefits society and blame whatever harms it, consistency in thought and speech should also teach them to applaud obedience to the civil magistrate on every occasion, and to blame all disobedience and rebellion. Praiseworthy and blameworthy should mean precisely obedient and disobedient. The magistrate's laws should thus be treated as the sole ultimate standards of justice and injustice, right and wrong.

Mr. Hobbes openly intended, by spreading these views, to subject people's consciences directly to civil rather than ecclesiastical authority. The example of his own times had taught him to see the turbulence and ambition of ecclesiastical powers as the chief source of social disorder. His doctrine was consequently particularly offensive to theologians, who vented their indignation against him with great harshness and bitterness. It also offended every sound moralist by implying that there is no natural distinction between right and wrong, that these change with the mere arbitrary will of the civil magistrate. His account was thus attacked from every quarter and with every kind of weapon, from sober argument to furious denunciation.

To refute so odious a doctrine, one had to prove that prior to every law or enacted institution, the mind was naturally equipped with a faculty by which it recognized certain actions and affections as right, praiseworthy, and virtuous, and others as wrong, blameworthy, and vicious.

As Dr. Cudworth rightly observed in Immutable Morality, l. 1, law cannot be the original source of these distinctions. If there is a law, either it is right to obey it and wrong to disobey, or obedience and disobedience are indifferent. A law one may indifferently obey or disobey obviously cannot give rise to the distinctions; neither can a law it is right to obey and wrong to disobey, since this already presupposes prior notions of right and wrong, to which obedience and disobedience respectively conform.

Since the mind thus possessed these notions before any law, it seemed necessary to conclude that it derived them from reason, which distinguishes right from wrong as it distinguishes truth from falsehood. This conclusion, true in some respects but hasty in others, was more readily received when the abstract study of human nature was still in its infancy, before the different powers and offices of the mind had been carefully examined and distinguished. At the height of the controversy with Mr. Hobbes, no other faculty had occurred to anyone as a possible source of such ideas. The popular doctrine therefore became that virtue and vice consist not in agreement or disagreement with a superior's law, but in agreement or disagreement with reason. Reason was accordingly treated as the original source and principle of approval and disapproval.

In some respects it is true that virtue consists in conformity to reason; in a certain sense reason can rightly be called the source of approval and disapproval, and of all sound judgments of right and wrong. By reason we discover the general rules of justice that should govern our actions. By it we also form the less precise ideas of prudence, decency, generosity, and nobility that we always carry with us and use, as best we can, to shape our conduct. General moral maxims, like other general maxims, are formed from experience and induction. We observe in many particular cases what pleases or displeases our moral faculties and what they approve or disapprove, and from this experience we infer general rules. Induction is always counted an operation of reason, so we can properly say that all these general maxims and ideas come from reason. We use them to regulate most of our moral judgments, which would be extremely uncertain and precarious if they depended entirely on immediate sentiment and feeling, so readily altered by changes in health and mood. Since maxims and ideas derived by reason's induction govern our soundest judgments of right and wrong, we may properly say that virtue conforms to reason, and to that extent call reason the source of approval and disapproval.

But although reason undoubtedly gives rise to general moral rules and the judgments we form through them, it is absurd and unintelligible to suppose that even in the particular cases from which those rules are drawn, the first perceptions of right and wrong come from reason. Like all initial observations on which general rules are founded, these perceptions belong not to reason but to immediate sense and feeling. Finding in a great variety of instances that one course of conduct consistently pleases the mind in a certain way and another consistently displeases it, we form general moral rules. But reason cannot make any particular object agreeable or disagreeable to the mind for its own sake. It can show that an object is a means to something else that naturally pleases or displeases us and thus make it agreeable or disagreeable for the sake of that other thing. Yet nothing can be pleasing or displeasing for its own sake unless immediate sense and feeling make it so. If virtue necessarily pleases for its own sake in every particular instance, and vice as certainly displeases us, it is immediate sense and feeling, not reason, that reconcile us to one and estrange us from the other.

Pleasure and pain are the chief objects of desire and aversion, but immediate sense and feeling, not reason, distinguish them. If virtue is desirable for its own sake and vice is likewise an object of aversion, reason cannot be what originally distinguishes these qualities; immediate sense and feeling must do so.

Yet because reason can in a certain sense rightly be called the principle of approval and disapproval, people long supposed, through inattention, that these sentiments originally arose from its operations. Dr. Hutcheson deserves credit for first distinguishing with some precision the respect in which moral distinctions arise from reason from the respect in which they rest on immediate sense and feeling. In his illustrations upon the moral sense, he has explained this so fully and, to my mind, so conclusively that if the dispute continues, I can attribute it only to neglect of what he wrote or to a superstitious attachment to certain turns of phrase. Such weakness is not uncommon among the learned, particularly on matters as deeply engaging as this, where a virtuous person is often reluctant to give up even the supposed correctness of a single phrase he has grown used to.

Theories that make reason the basis of approval.

Mr. Hobbes famously taught that the natural condition of humanity is war. Before people established civil government, he said, they could not form a safe, peaceful society. For him, preserving society meant supporting civil government, and destroying government meant ending society. But civil government exists only while people obey the highest authority. The moment that official loses authority, government ends. Self-preservation teaches people to praise whatever promotes society's welfare and blame whatever harms it. So, Hobbes argued, if people thought and spoke consistently, self-preservation would teach them always to praise obedience to civil authorities and blame disobedience and rebellion. To deserve praise would mean to obey, and to deserve blame would mean to disobey. The government's laws would then be the only final standards of justice and injustice, right and wrong.

Mr. Hobbes openly intended these ideas to put people's consciences under the direct authority of the civil government, rather than religious authorities. The unrest and ambition of religious authorities in his own time had taught him to see them as the main cause of social disorder. Theologians therefore found his doctrine especially offensive and attacked it with sharp bitterness. It also offended every sound moral thinker, because it implied that right and wrong have no natural distinction. On his account, they can change at the arbitrary will of the government. People attacked this theory from every side, both with sober arguments and with furious speeches.

To refute such a hateful doctrine, they needed to prove that even before any law or human institution existed, the mind naturally had a faculty that recognized some actions and feelings as right, praiseworthy, and virtuous, and others as wrong, blameworthy, and vicious.

Dr. Cudworth rightly observed, in Immutable Morality, book 1, that law could not be the original source of these distinctions. If a law exists, it must either be right to obey it and wrong to disobey it, or it must not matter whether we obey it. A law we are free to ignore plainly cannot be the source of right and wrong. But neither can a law we ought to obey be their source. Calling obedience right and disobedience wrong already assumes that we know what right and wrong mean. It assumes that obeying fits the idea of right and disobeying fits the idea of wrong.

If the mind knew these distinctions before any law, it seemed to follow that it learned them from reason. Reason would distinguish right from wrong as it distinguishes truth from falsehood. This conclusion is correct in some ways but hasty in others. It was easier to accept when the study of human nature was still young, before people had carefully distinguished the mind's different faculties and their jobs. During the fierce debate with Mr. Hobbes, no one had thought of another faculty that might produce such ideas. So it became popular to say that virtue and vice do not consist in whether actions agree with a superior's law. Instead, they consist in whether actions agree with reason. Reason was thus treated as the original source of approval and disapproval.

In some respects it is true that virtue agrees with reason. In a certain sense, reason can rightly be called the source of approval and disapproval, and of all sound judgments about right and wrong. Through reason we discover the general rules of justice that should guide our actions. Reason also gives us less precise ideas of what is prudent, decent, generous, or noble. We keep those ideas in mind and try to shape our conduct by them. Like other general principles, moral principles come from experience and drawing general conclusions from particular cases. We observe many different cases, noting what pleases or displeases our moral faculties and what they approve or disapprove. From these observations we establish general rules. Drawing such conclusions is an operation of reason. So it is quite right to say that our general principles and ideas come from reason. They govern most of our moral judgments. Those judgments would be very uncertain if they depended entirely on immediate feelings, which can change greatly with our health and mood. Our soundest judgments about right and wrong are thus guided by principles drawn from experience through reason. In that sense virtue agrees with reason, and reason can be called the source of approval and disapproval.

But reason cannot possibly be the source of our first perceptions of right and wrong in the particular cases from which those rules are formed. That idea makes no sense. Like the first observations behind any general rule, those first perceptions arise from immediate sense and feeling, not reason. We form moral rules by finding in many cases that one way of acting regularly pleases us in a certain way, while another regularly displeases us. Reason cannot make a particular thing pleasing or displeasing to the mind for its own sake. Reason may show that it helps us get something else that naturally pleases or displeases us. Then it can make the first thing attractive or unattractive for the sake of that other thing. But only immediate sense and feeling can make something pleasing or displeasing in itself. If virtue in each particular case necessarily pleases us for its own sake, and vice displeases us, immediate sense and feeling, not reason, draw us toward one and turn us away from the other.

Pleasure and pain are what we chiefly seek and avoid. We tell them apart not by reasoning but by immediate sense and feeling. So if we want virtue for its own sake and avoid vice for its own sake, reason cannot originally tell them apart. Immediate sense and feeling must do so.

Because reason can properly be called the basis of approval and disapproval in one sense, people long assumed, without looking closely, that these feelings originally came from reason. Dr. Hutcheson was the first to explain with some precision how moral distinctions can be said to come from reason and how they rest on immediate sense and feeling. His Illustrations upon the Moral Sense explains this so thoroughly and, in my opinion, so convincingly that any continuing dispute must come from either failure to read him carefully or superstitious attachment to familiar phrases. Such attachment is not unusual among scholars. It is especially common in a subject as important as this, where a virtuous person may be reluctant to give up even a single familiar expression that he has always considered correct.