Part VI, Section III, Chapter III, 1

Of Those Systems Which Make Sentiment the Principle of Approbation.

Systems that make sentiment the principle of approbation fall into two classes.

I. According to some, approbation rests on a sentiment of a special kind, a distinct power of perception exercised when the mind observes certain actions or affections. Some affect this faculty agreeably and are therefore marked as right, praiseworthy, and virtuous; others affect it disagreeably and are marked as wrong, blameworthy, and vicious. Because this sentiment has a nature distinct from every other and results from a special perceptive power, they give it a special name: the moral sense.

II. According to others, there is no need to invent a new power of perception, previously unheard of, to account for approbation. Nature, they believe, works here as economically as elsewhere, producing many effects from one cause. Sympathy, a familiar power with which the mind is plainly endowed, suffices, in their view, to account for all the effects attributed to that special faculty.

I. Dr. Hutcheson took great pains to show that approbation does not rest on self-love. He also demonstrated that it cannot arise from any operation of reason. It seemed to him that nothing remained except to suppose that Nature had equipped the human mind with a faculty of a special kind to bring about this one important effect. Once he had excluded self-love and reason, no other known mental faculty occurred to him as capable of serving this purpose. His discussion appears in Inquiry concerning Virtue.

He called this new perceptive power a moral sense and held it somewhat analogous to the outward senses. Bodies around us affect those senses in certain ways and seem accordingly to possess qualities of sound, taste, smell, and color. In like manner, the various affections of the human mind touch this special faculty in certain ways and seem to possess the qualities of lovableness or hatefulness, virtue or vice, right or wrong.

According to this system, the various senses or perceptive powers from which the human mind derives all its simple ideas fall into two kinds: direct or antecedent senses and reflex or consequent senses. The direct senses give the mind perceptions of kinds of things that presuppose no earlier perception of another thing. Sounds and colors, for example, are objects of direct sense: hearing a sound or seeing a color requires no prior perception of some other quality or object. Reflex or consequent senses, on the other hand, give the mind perceptions of kinds of things that presuppose such an earlier perception. Harmony and beauty are objects of reflex sense: we must first hear a sound to perceive its harmony, or see a color to perceive its beauty. The moral sense was counted among these reflex faculties. The faculty Mr. Locke calls reflection, from which he derived the simple ideas of the mind's various passions and emotions, was, in Dr. Hutcheson's account, a direct internal sense. The further faculty by which we perceive the beauty or ugliness, virtue or vice, of those passions and emotions was a reflex internal sense. This distinction is discussed in Treatise of the passions.

Dr. Hutcheson sought further support for his doctrine by arguing that it accorded with nature's pattern: the mind has several other reflex senses closely resembling the moral sense. These include a sense of beauty and ugliness in external objects; a public sense through which we sympathize with our fellow creatures' happiness or misery; a sense of shame and honor; and a sense of the ridiculous.

Despite all the efforts of this ingenious philosopher to prove that approbation rests on a special perceptive power somewhat analogous to the outward senses, he acknowledges certain consequences of his doctrine that many may regard as enough to refute it. As he concedes in Illustrations upon the Moral Sense, Sect. 1. p. 237, et seq. Third Edition, qualities belonging to the objects of a sense cannot, without gross absurdity, be attributed to the sense itself. Who would call sight black or white, hearing loud or quiet, or taste sweet or bitter? By the same reasoning, he says, it is equally absurd to call our moral faculties virtuous or vicious, morally good or evil. Those qualities belong to what the faculties perceive, not to the faculties themselves. Suppose, then, someone were so absurdly constituted that he approved of cruelty and injustice as the highest virtues and condemned fairness and humanity as the most contemptible vices. Such a mind might be inconvenient for the person and for society, and strange, surprising, and unnatural in itself; but it could not without gross absurdity be called vicious or morally evil.

And yet, if we saw a person cheering with admiration and applause at a barbarous, undeserved execution ordered by an arrogant tyrant, surely we would see no great absurdity in calling his behavior vicious and morally evil in the highest degree. All it might express is depraved moral faculties, an absurd approval of that horrible act as noble, magnanimous, and great. I imagine that on seeing such a spectator we would forget for a moment our sympathy with the sufferer and feel only horror and loathing for this execrable wretch. We would abominate him even more than the tyrant, who might have been driven on by powerful jealousy, fear, and resentment, and be more excusable on that account. The spectator's sentiments would seem wholly without cause or motive, and therefore utterly detestable. No distortion of sentiment or affection would be harder for our hearts to share or more fiercely rejected with hatred and indignation. Far from seeing such a mind as merely strange or inconvenient but in no way vicious or morally evil, we would count it the final and most dreadful stage of moral depravity.

Correct moral sentiments, by contrast, naturally seem to some degree praiseworthy and morally good. A person whose censure and applause always match the merit or unworthiness of their objects with the greatest precision seems to deserve moral approval himself. We admire the fine accuracy of his moral sentiments. They guide our own judgments, and their uncommon, surprising justice arouses our wonder and applause. We cannot always be sure, of course, that such a person's conduct would match the accuracy of his judgments about others. Virtue demands habit and firmness of mind as well as sensitivity of sentiment; sadly, the former are sometimes absent where the latter is most developed. Nevertheless, even if this disposition has its imperfections, it cannot coexist with anything grossly criminal, and it offers the soundest foundation on which perfect virtue can be built. Many people mean well and sincerely intend to do what they take to be their duty, yet remain disagreeable because their moral sentiments are coarse.

It may perhaps be argued that even if approbation rests on no perceptive power analogous to the outward senses, it could still rest on a distinctive sentiment devoted to this purpose alone. Approval and disapproval, it might be said, are feelings or emotions that arise in the mind on seeing different characters and actions. Just as resentment might be called a sense of injuries, and gratitude a sense of benefits, so these feelings might properly be called a sense of right and wrong, or a moral sense.

Theories that make sentiment the basis of approval.

Theories that explain approval through sentiment fall into two groups.

I. Some say approval rests on a special kind of feeling, a particular power of perception the mind uses when it sees certain actions or feelings. Some actions or feelings please this faculty and are judged right, praiseworthy, and virtuous. Others displease it and are judged wrong, blameworthy, and vicious. Because they regard this feeling as unlike any other and as the product of a special power of perception, they give it a special name: the moral sense.

II. Others say that explaining approval requires no new power of perception that no one had heard of before. In their view, nature works as economically here as elsewhere. It produces many effects from the same cause. Sympathy is a familiar ability that the mind clearly has, and they think it explains everything attributed to this supposed special faculty.

I. In Inquiry concerning Virtue, Dr. Hutcheson worked hard to prove that approval does not rest on self-love. He also showed that it cannot come from reasoning. He concluded that nature must have given the mind a special faculty to produce this one important effect. Having ruled out self-love and reason, he did not think of any other known mental ability that could serve the purpose.

He called this new power of perception a moral sense and thought it resembled our outward senses. Things around us affect those senses and seem to have qualities such as sound, taste, smell, and color. Likewise, when human feelings affect this special faculty, they seem to have qualities such as lovable or hateful, virtuous or vicious, and right or wrong.

According to this theory, presented in the Treatise of the passions, the senses or powers through which the mind gets all its simple ideas fall into two groups: direct or prior senses, and reflective or subsequent senses. Direct senses let us perceive things without first perceiving anything else. Sound and color, for example, are objects of direct senses. Hearing a sound or seeing a color does not require perceiving another quality or thing first. Reflective senses, in contrast, let us perceive qualities that depend on a prior perception. Harmony and beauty are examples. To hear a sound's harmony or see a color's beauty, we must hear the sound or see the color first. The moral sense was considered this kind of faculty. What Mr. Locke called reflection, the faculty from which he derived our simple ideas of different passions and emotions, was, for Dr. Hutcheson, a direct internal sense. The faculty that then perceived those passions and emotions as beautiful or ugly, virtuous or vicious, was a reflective internal sense.

Dr. Hutcheson further defended this view by arguing that it fits the way nature works. He said the mind has several other reflective senses like the moral sense. These include a sense of beauty and ugliness in things around us; a public sense through which we sympathize with other people's happiness and misery; a sense of shame and honor; and a sense of ridicule.

This clever philosopher tried hard to show that approval rests on a special power of perception resembling the outward senses. Yet he admits that his theory has consequences many people may see as enough to disprove it. As he says in Illustrations upon the Moral Sense, section 1, page 237 and following, Third Edition, we cannot sensibly attribute a quality belonging to the object of a sense to the sense itself. Who calls sight black or white, hearing loud or soft, or taste sweet or bitter? In his view, it would be just as absurd to call our moral faculties virtuous or vicious, morally good or evil. Those qualities belong to the objects the faculties perceive, not to the faculties themselves. Suppose someone were so strangely constituted that he approved of cruelty and injustice as the highest virtues and condemned fairness and kindness as the lowest vices. That state of mind might be inconvenient for him and society, and strange, surprising, and unnatural in itself. But on this theory, calling it vicious or morally evil would be absurd.

But suppose we saw someone cheer and applaud a cruel execution ordered without justification by an arrogant tyrant. Surely we could call his conduct vicious and profoundly evil without saying anything absurd. His response might show nothing beyond a corrupted moral faculty: he approves of this horrible act as noble, high-minded, and great. Yet I think that at the sight of this observer, our hearts would briefly forget our sympathy with the victim and feel only horror and hatred for such a dreadful person. We would detest him even more than the tyrant. Strong jealousy, fear, and resentment might have driven the tyrant, giving him at least some excuse. The observer's feelings would seem to have no cause or motive at all, making them wholly hateful. There is no twisted feeling we would resist sharing more strongly, or reject with more hatred and anger. Far from seeing his state of mind as merely strange or inconvenient, rather than vicious or morally evil, we would see it as the final and worst stage of moral corruption.

Right moral feelings, by contrast, naturally look somewhat praiseworthy and morally good. Someone whose praise and criticism always match exactly what people deserve seems to merit moral approval himself. We admire the precision of his moral feelings. They guide our judgments. Their unusual accuracy even makes us marvel and applaud. Of course, we cannot always be sure that his own conduct will match his accurate judgments about others. Virtue requires practiced habits and determination as well as fine judgment, and unfortunately these do not always go together. Yet this way of thinking, even if it has other faults, cannot go together with serious wrongdoing. It is the best foundation on which complete virtue can be built. Many people sincerely mean well and intend to do their duty, yet are unpleasant because their moral feelings are crude.

Perhaps someone will say that approval does not rest on a perceptive power resembling the outward senses, but may still rest on a special feeling that serves this purpose alone. Approval and disapproval, they might say, are feelings or emotions that arise when we see different people and actions. Just as resentment might be called a sense of injury, and gratitude a sense of benefit, these feelings could properly be called a sense of right and wrong, or a moral sense.