Christianity and Liberty

Barbara Branden · June 4, 2010

George: "When Welles was asked about his innovative camera techniques in Citizen Kane, he replied that he had never made a movie before, so he wasn't aware that he was breaking new ground. He then observed that as creative people get older, they learn what they are "supposed" to do - the "rules" of their discipline --and this often hinders their creativity. Welles suggested that creative types recapture the spirit and perspective of their earlier years and forget about the conventional rules they have learned since then."

That is wonderful advice. Thanks for posting it.

Barbara

George H. Smith · June 4, 2010

Although I still agree with Smith about the uniformly deleterious effect of Christianity on sexual matters, I suspect he would significantly change some other historical generalizations, were he writing the book today. But it should be kept in mind that Smith, for the most part, does not discuss the political influence of Christianity, and in some respects his views on that issue have not changed very much.
Your first post reminded me of a speech NB gave to the old Los Angeles Libertarian Supper Club in the 1970s on “The Old and The New Nathaniel Branden.” I can appreciate that your views have changed in the last 40 years, but I’m just not sure the old Smith would feel that the new Smith addressed the crux of the issue: i.e., superficial modern wrinkles don’t change the fundamental influence of the Christian tradition.

Many years ago, on the 10th anniversary of the publication of ATCAG, I gave a lecture in which I critiqued my own book and indicated some specific points that I would change. None of these, as I recall, was philosophical; all were historical. I no longer have the transcript for that talk, and I don't recall all the details, but one thing I pointed out was the danger reifying "Christianity" by treating it as if it were a monolithic "thing" that exerted a uniform influence on historical developments. I do that on occasion in ATCAG, though, in my own defense, I also distinguished from time to time between different philosophical strains within the Christian tradition.

So what exactly is it that the new Smith would disagree with about what the old Smith said? In your lengthy and very interesting quotation, I see a quasi-legal (i.e., coercion-related) analysis of Christ’s teachings, not an ethical one. What someone should be forced to do is a separate question than what someone should do.

You hit the nail on the head. In ATCAG, I discuss the moral precepts of Jesus, not their political implications, whereas in recent posts I have been emphasizing the latter.

Consider the issue of charity, an important virtue in Christian theology. When rights theory attained a sophisticated level of development in the early 17th century, an essential distinction was drawn between "perfect" and "imperfect" rights and obligations. A "perfect" right (with its corresponding obligation) is what we think of as a "right" today. It is a right that can be coercively enforced. But in centuries past, "imperfect" rights (with their corresponding obligations) were seen as moral claims that cannot be so enforced. They are moral claims that must be fulfilled by purely voluntary means.

Charity became classified under the virtues of "benevolence" (Adam Smith called it "beneficence"), and as such it was treated by many Christian philosophers as an imperfect obligation. Vattel's The Law of Nations (1758) -- a book that exerted a huge influence on America's Founders -- gives a typical account. Speaking of the "imperfect right" of "a poor man to receive alms of the rich man," Vattel says: "if the latter refuses to bestow it, the poor man may justly complain; but he has no right to take it by force." (Liberty Fund ed., p. 134.)

This insistence that charity and other acts of benevolence should be voluntary is what distinguishes the Christian approach from the "altruism" of Auguste Comte. When Comte spoke of the duty of self-sacrifice, he was speaking of a "perfect" obligation that should be enforced by the state.

Of course, even the "imperfect obligation" of benevolence defended by many Christians is something that Rand did not agree with, but here I would don my libertarian hat and say that such moral differences -- which are inevitable in any free society -- are of no consequence, so long as individuals are able to decide such matters for themselves, free of coercion by others.

Are you truly willing to deny that, for almost every Christian, self-sacrifice is still presumed to be a primary virtue, or that Christianity does not represent a major obstacle to the explicit acceptance of rational egoism as a viable ethical code in the 21st Century?

I would say that Christians regard charity and other acts of benevolence as a primary virtue, but whether this should be called "self-sacrifice" is somewhat problematic. Historically, for example, the Catholic Church had a rocky relationship with radical Franciscans who maintained that a life of poverty devoted to the welfare of others is the only way to be a good Christian. The Church typically shunted these people into monasteries where they wouldn't be much of a threat to the worldly riches of prelates, while claiming that such strict adherence to the teachings of Jesus, while appropriate for a handful of dedicated Christians, was not suited to the workaday world.

Although I cannot now pinpoint a specific source, I have read many discussions of charity in Christian literature, including some by medieval theologians. Two points caught my attention. First was the argument that one should not give to others to the point where the welfare of oneself and one's family is harmed. Second was the distinction (found especially in Protestant writers) between the "deserving" and "undeserving" poor. Charity, it was commonly maintained -- including by Herbert Spencer and other secular philosophers -- should be given only to the "deserving" poor, i.e., those who find themselves in dire circumstances through no fault of their own.

Behind many of these counsels to be charitable was the argument that charity and other benevolent acts have moral worth only when they are undertaken voluntarily. This is a crucial point, so far as libertarians are concerned.

Ghs

imurray · June 4, 2010

You hit the nail on the head. In ATCAG, I discuss the moral precepts of Jesus, not their political implications, whereas in recent posts I have been emphasizing the latter.
Consider the issue of charity, an important virtue in Christian theology. When rights theory attained a sophisticated level of development in the early 17th century, an essential distinction was drawn between "perfect" and "imperfect" rights and obligations. A "perfect" right (with its corresponding obligation) is what we think of as a "right" today. It is a right that can be coercively enforced. But in centuries past, "imperfect" rights (with their corresponding obligations) were seen as moral claims that cannot be so enforced. They are moral claims that must be fulfilled by purely voluntary means.
Charity became classified under the virtues of "benevolence" (Adam Smith called it "beneficence"), and as such it was treated by many Christian philosophers as an imperfect obligation. Vattel's The Laws of Nations (1758) -- a book that exerted a huge influence on America's Founders -- gives a typical account. Speaking of the "imperfect right" of "a poor man to receive alms of the rich man," Vattel says: "if the latter refuses to bestow it, the poor man may justly complain; but he has no right to take it by force." (Liberty Fund ed., p. 134.)
This insistence that charity and other acts of benevolence should be voluntary is what distinguishes the Christian approach from the "altruism" of Auguste Comte. When Comte spoke of the duty of self-sacrifice, he was speaking of a "perfect" obligation that should be enforced by the state.
Of course, even the "imperfect obligation" of benevolence defended by many Christians is something that Rand did not agree with, but here I would don my libertarian hat and say that such moral differences -- which are inevitable in any free society -- are of no consequence, so long as individuals are able to decide such matters for themselves, free of coercion by others.
Ghs

George,

Wow. I am truly looking forward to reading your new book once it is published. We have disagreed in the past and I'm sure we will disagree again in the future, but either way I can and hopefully will learn a lot from the way you think. It is rare to see someone who is adept at working with abstract ideas and is able to represent them in a clear and intelligable way; devoid of the pomposity of so-called "academic" writing. It is a combination any serious scholar aspires to. I have observed the same capacity for working with abstraction (accross multiple disciplines) in Foucault, but only in his most heralded works (like Discipline and Punish) are there shimmers of the clarity seen here.

Ian

George H. Smith · June 4, 2010

George,
Wow. I am truly looking forward to reading your new book once it is published. We have disagreed in the past and I'm sure we will disagree again in the future, but either way I can and hopefully will learn a lot from the way you think. It is rare to see someone who is adept at working with abstract ideas and is able to represent them in a clear and intelligable way; devoid of the pomposity of so-called "academic" writing. It is a combination any serious scholar aspires to. I have observed the same capacity for working with abstraction (accross multiple disciplines) in Foucault, but only in his most heralded works (like Discipline and Punish) are there shimmers of the clarity seen here.
Ian

Thanks.

The following passage (minus endnotes) from Themes in the History of Classical Liberalism is one of several places where I discuss the distinction between perfect and imperfect rights. This is part of broader discussion in which I explain how classical liberalism departed radically from traditional Aristotelian political philosophy.

This brings us to a distinction that was crucial to individualistic theories of justice during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Adam Smith exemplified this tradition when he differentiated “perfect” from “imperfect” rights in his lectures on jurisprudence at Glasgow University:
Perfect rights are those which we have a title to demand and if refused to compel another to perform....Imperfect rights are those which correspond to those duties which ought to be performed to us by others but which we have no title to compel them to perform; they have it entirely in their power to perform them or not. Thus a man of bright parts or remarkable learning is deserving of praise, but we have no power to compel any one to give it [to] him. A beggar is an object of our charity and may be said to have a right to demand it; but when we use the word right in this way it is not in a proper but in a metaphorical sense.
Smith expands on this theme in The Theory of Moral Sentiments, where he refers to “that remarkable distinction between justice and all the other social virtues.” The obligations of justice “may be extorted by force,” whereas the social virtues of beneficence -- those affiliated with friendship, charity, generosity, and the like -- should depend solely on “advice and persuasion.” Indeed, “for equals to use force against one another” in an effort to compel the observance of imperfect rights and duties “would be thought the highest degree of insolence and presumption.”
This distinction between perfect and imperfect rights, according to which only perfect (i.e., enforceable) rights fall within the domain of justice, strictly construed, has important implications for the nature of political philosophy. Alan Brown, in asserting that political philosophy is concerned with the nature of “the good society,” adopts an Aristotelian perspective that was significantly modified, if not rejected altogether, by those liberal individualists who distinguished between a just society and a good society.
According to Adam Smith, when the members of a society practice the social virtues of beneficence, “the society flourishes and is happy.” But even if “among the different members of the society there should be no mutual love and affection, the society, though less happy and agreeable, will not necessarily be dissolved.”
Society may subsist among different men, as among different merchants, from a sense of its utility, without any mutual love or affection; and though no man in it should owe any obligation [apart from justice], or be bound in gratitude to any other, it may still be upheld by a mercenary exchange of good offices according to an agreed valuation.
Justice, in contrast to other virtues, is essential to the very existence of society:
Society may subsist, though not in the most comfortable state, without beneficence; but the prevalence of injustice must utterly destroy it…. [beneficence] is the ornament which embellishes, not the foundation which supports the building, and which it was, therefore, sufficient to recommend, but by no means necessary to impose. Justice, on the contrary, is the main pillar that upholds the whole edifice. If it is removed, the great, the immense fabric of human society…must in a moment crumble into atoms.
From this perspective, political philosophy is concerned with the nature of a good society only insofar as it establishes conditions that are necessary, but not sufficient, for a good society. Political philosophy addresses the nature of a just society; whether the members of this society practice other moral virtues that render the society good rather than merely tolerable will depend on their voluntary decisions and actions. These issues fall within the purview of ethics in the broadest sense; they are not matters of political philosophy per se.

Ghs

George H. Smith · June 4, 2010

George,
Wow. I am truly looking forward to reading your new book once it is published. We have disagreed in the past and I'm sure we will disagree again in the future, but either way I can and hopefully will learn a lot from the way you think. It is rare to see someone who is adept at working with abstract ideas and is able to represent them in a clear and intelligable way; devoid of the pomposity of so-called "academic" writing. It is a combination any serious scholar aspires to. I have observed the same capacity for working with abstraction (accross multiple disciplines) in Foucault, but only in his most heralded works (like Discipline and Punish) are there shimmers of the clarity seen here.
Ian

Thanks.

The following passage (minus endnotes) from Themes in the History of Classical Liberalism is one of several places where I discuss the distinction between perfect and imperfect rights. This is part of a broader discussion in which I explain how classical liberalism departed radically from traditional Aristotelian political philosophy.

This brings us to a distinction that was crucial to individualistic theories of justice during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Adam Smith exemplified this tradition when he differentiated “perfect” from “imperfect” rights in his lectures on jurisprudence at Glasgow University:
Perfect rights are those which we have a title to demand and if refused to compel another to perform....Imperfect rights are those which correspond to those duties which ought to be performed to us by others but which we have no title to compel them to perform; they have it entirely in their power to perform them or not. Thus a man of bright parts or remarkable learning is deserving of praise, but we have no power to compel any one to give it [to] him. A beggar is an object of our charity and may be said to have a right to demand it; but when we use the word right in this way it is not in a proper but in a metaphorical sense.
Smith expands on this theme in The Theory of Moral Sentiments, where he refers to “that remarkable distinction between justice and all the other social virtues.” The obligations of justice “may be extorted by force,” whereas the social virtues of beneficence -- those affiliated with friendship, charity, generosity, and the like -- should depend solely on “advice and persuasion.” Indeed, “for equals to use force against one another” in an effort to compel the observance of imperfect rights and duties “would be thought the highest degree of insolence and presumption.”
This distinction between perfect and imperfect rights, according to which only perfect (i.e., enforceable) rights fall within the domain of justice, strictly construed, has important implications for the nature of political philosophy. Alan Brown, in asserting that political philosophy is concerned with the nature of “the good society,” adopts an Aristotelian perspective that was significantly modified, if not rejected altogether, by those liberal individualists who distinguished between a just society and a good society.
According to Adam Smith, when the members of a society practice the social virtues of beneficence, “the society flourishes and is happy.” But even if “among the different members of the society there should be no mutual love and affection, the society, though less happy and agreeable, will not necessarily be dissolved.”
Society may subsist among different men, as among different merchants, from a sense of its utility, without any mutual love or affection; and though no man in it should owe any obligation [apart from justice], or be bound in gratitude to any other, it may still be upheld by a mercenary exchange of good offices according to an agreed valuation.
Justice, in contrast to other virtues, is essential to the very existence of society:
Society may subsist, though not in the most comfortable state, without beneficence; but the prevalence of injustice must utterly destroy it…. [beneficence] is the ornament which embellishes, not the foundation which supports the building, and which it was, therefore, sufficient to recommend, but by no means necessary to impose. Justice, on the contrary, is the main pillar that upholds the whole edifice. If it is removed, the great, the immense fabric of human society…must in a moment crumble into atoms.
From this perspective, political philosophy is concerned with the nature of a good society only insofar as it establishes conditions that are necessary, but not sufficient, for a good society. Political philosophy addresses the nature of a just society; whether the members of this society practice other moral virtues that render the society good rather than merely tolerable will depend on their voluntary decisions and actions. These issues fall within the purview of ethics in the broadest sense; they are not matters of political philosophy per se.

Ghs

Dennis Hardin · June 5, 2010

Of course, even the "imperfect obligation" of benevolence defended by many Christians is something that Rand did not agree with, but here I would don my libertarian hat and say that such moral differences -- which are inevitable in any free society -- are of no consequence, so long as individuals are able to decide such matters for themselves, free of coercion by others.
Behind many of these counsels to be charitable was the argument that charity and other benevolent acts have moral worth only when they are undertaken voluntarily. This is a crucial point, so far as libertarians are concerned.
Ghs

George,

Thanks very much for a fascinating exchange. The bottom line, it seems clear, is that you disagree with the following quote by Ayn Rand:

"From her start, America was torn by the clash of her political system with the altruist morality. Capitalism and altruism are incompatible; they are philosophical opposites; they cannot co-exist in the same man or in the same society. Today, the conflict has reached its ultimate climax; the choice is clear-cut: either a new morality of rational self-interest, with its consequences of freedom, justice, progress and man’s happiness on earth-or the primordial morality of altruism, with its consequences of slavery, brute force, stagnant terror and sacrificial furnaces."

As a libertarian, it sounds as though, for you, voluntarism is as fundamental as it gets in the sphere of ethics. We can dispense with concerns about the pernicious effects of altruism altogether. Am I wrong?

George H. Smith · June 5, 2010

Of course, even the "imperfect obligation" of benevolence defended by many Christians is something that Rand did not agree with, but here I would don my libertarian hat and say that such moral differences -- which are inevitable in any free society -- are of no consequence, so long as individuals are able to decide such matters for themselves, free of coercion by others.
Behind many of these counsels to be charitable was the argument that charity and other benevolent acts have moral worth only when they are undertaken voluntarily. This is a crucial point, so far as libertarians are concerned.
Ghs
George,
Thanks very much for a fascinating exchange. The bottom line, it seems clear, is that you disagree with the following quote by Ayn Rand:
"From her start, America was torn by the clash of her political system with the altruist morality. Capitalism and altruism are incompatible; they are philosophical opposites; they cannot co-exist in the same man or in the same society. Today, the conflict has reached its ultimate climax; the choice is clear-cut: either a new morality of rational self-interest, with its consequences of freedom, justice, progress and man’s happiness on earth-or the primordial morality of altruism, with its consequences of slavery, brute force, stagnant terror and sacrificial furnaces."
As a libertarian, it sounds as though, for you, voluntarism is as fundamental as it gets in the sphere of ethics. We can dispense with concerns about the pernicious effects of altruism altogether. Am I wrong?

It's difficult for me to comment on the passage from Rand because I don't know exactly what she means by "the altruist morality," in this context. If she means the position that self-sacrifice is our fundamental moral duty, then, offhand, I can't think of any of America's Founders who would qualify as altruists.

Jefferson's Declaration of Independence is the best and most succinct account of the American mindset during the 18th century, and there is not a hint of altruism in that document. And when Jefferson endorsed the "pursuit of happiness" as an inalienable right, he was not breaking new ground. Many political philosophers before Jefferson had used the same phrase or similar expressions, and they were commonplace. For at least 150 years before Jefferson set pen to paper, the pursuit of one's rational self-interest (often called "self-love") had been widely defended. Indeed, Emer de Vattel (whom I quoted in an earlier post) maintained that self-love is "the first principle of obligation" and is "truly primary" in moral philosophy.

I agree with Rand that there were significant conflicts "from the start," but these had little to do with egoism versus altruism. Slavery, for example, was the most egregious contradiction, and it would be a stretch to call this institution "altruistic." On the contrary, the critics of slavery viewed it as "license" (which was frequently distinguished from "liberty"), i.e., as the pursuit of self-interest run amok, outside the boundaries of justice. When banning the overseas slave trade was debated during the Constitutional Convention, the proposal was favored by some Virginia delegates. In response, a delegate from South Carolina pointed out that Virginia produced more slaves than she needed, whereas slaves died-off quickly in the miserable rice-paddies of the deep South, which depended on their continuous importation. This delegate maintained that Virginians favored abolishing the importation of new slaves -- not slavery per se; this was never seriously considered -- because this ban would restrict the market and thereby raise the price that Virginians could charge for their slaves.

I mention this example of hard-headed realpolitiks because, though extreme, it is typical of political debates during that period, many of which were arguments not over egoism versus altruism but over different perceptions of self-interest. Even when, as often occurred, references were made to the "public good" or the "national interest," it was maintained that such policies would ultimately benefit everyone.

There is another, and rather complicated, side to this story. The notion of "public virtue" was a common theme in 18th century America, and we do find arguments to the effect that individuals have an obligation to subordinate the pursuit of their own interests to the greater public good. But, depending on the writer, this could mean nothing more than that individuals have an obligation to pursue their own interests within the boundaries of justice, i.e., while respecting the rights of others. Rand agreed with this position, of course, and she didn't regard respecting the rights of others as altruistic.

The call for self-sacrifice also played a conspicuous role in matters pertaining to war; the willingness to sacrifice one's own life while defending American freedom was regarded as a great virtue. Again, Rand stands in basic agreement; the difference is that she doesn't call this a "sacrifice."

Anyway, this is very complicated subject, but -- to repeat -- I don't see how altruism (in the Randian sense) played a significant role during the early years of the American Republic. If you think it did, then you will need to mention some specific writers who advocated altruism, or some dominant themes that embodied altruistic ideals.

I have not yet discussed your philosophical point, namely: Do I think egoism is a necessary foundation for a theory of individual rights? I will take this up in a separate post.

Ghs

George H. Smith · June 5, 2010

Dennis,

One more historical point....

I don't want to give the impression that I dismiss the influence of altruism on American political thought. I don't, but I would place its rise much later than Rand does.

Altruism became a dominant theme in American politics after the Civil War. A primary influence here was Hegel. Many American professors studied at German universities, and they returned home enchanted with Hegel's notion of the organismic state. The state, according to Hegel, "is the divine idea as it exists on earth." (For a discussion of Hegel's influence in late 19th century America, see Arthur Ekirch, Decline of American Liberalism.)

I have a brief discussion of this subject in my Introduction to the Lysander Spooner Reader, as follows (minus endnotes):

The Civil War extinguished 620,000 lives and transformed the political culture of America. George Ticknor, writing in 1869, commented on the "great gulf between what happened before the war in our century and what has happened since or what is likely to happen hereafter. It does not seem to me as if I were living in the country in which I was born."
The language of rights, consent, and social contract -- the vocabulary of Lysander Spooner -- was no longer popular among Northern intellectuals, for this had been the language of treason and secession. The word "union" (which suggested a confederation of sovereign states) gave way to "nation"; and "The United States are" (the verb preferred by James Madison, among many others) became "The United States is...."
After the war, a speaker at William and Mary College declared: "We at the North, all learned that there was in our...Government a power of which we never divined, as being the great incarnation of a nation's rights, privileges, honor and life." According to the historian John Motley, "no individual is anything in the midst of this great revolution"; and, in the words of Walt Whitman, the war taught America that "a nation cannot be trifled with."
Lysander Spooner no longer spoke the language of his countrymen, and he watched the power of government accelerate at an astonishing rate. Spooner was swimming against the current of opinion, but he never gave up....

Ghs

Brant Gaede · June 5, 2010

That's fascinating, George. This stuff is hard to learn in college because the profs are steeped in this statist paradigm and are either blind to the alternative or hostile to it--they cannot even acknowledge it.

--Brant

Dennis Hardin · June 7, 2010

The bottom line, it seems clear, is that you disagree with the following quote by Ayn Rand:
"From her start, America was torn by the clash of her political system with the altruist morality. Capitalism and altruism are incompatible; they are philosophical opposites; they cannot co-exist in the same man or in the same society. Today, the conflict has reached its ultimate climax; the choice is clear-cut: either a new morality of rational self-interest, with its consequences of freedom, justice, progress and man’s happiness on earth-or the primordial morality of altruism, with its consequences of slavery, brute force, stagnant terror and sacrificial furnaces."
As a libertarian, it sounds as though, for you, voluntarism is as fundamental as it gets in the sphere of ethics. We can dispense with concerns about the pernicious effects of altruism altogether. Am I wrong?
It's difficult for me to comment on the passage from Rand because I don't know exactly what she means by "the altruist morality," in this context. If she means the position that self-sacrifice is our fundamental moral duty, then, offhand, I can't think of any of America's Founders who would qualify as altruists.
Jefferson's Declaration of Independence is the best and most succinct account of the American mindset during the 18th century, and there is not a hint of altruism in that document. And when Jefferson endorsed the "pursuit of happiness" as an inalienable right, he was not breaking new ground. Many political philosophers before Jefferson had used the same phrase or similar expressions, and they were commonplace. For at least 150 years before Jefferson set pen to paper, the pursuit of one's rational self-interest (often called "self-love") had been widely defended. Indeed, Emer de Vattel (whom I quoted in an earlier post) maintained that self-love is "the first principle of obligation" and is "truly primary" in moral philosophy.
I agree with Rand that there were significant conflicts "from the start," but these had little to do with egoism versus altruism. Slavery, for example, was the most egregious contradiction, and it would be a stretch to call this institution "altruistic." On the contrary, the critics of slavery viewed it as "license" (which was frequently distinguished from "liberty"), i.e., as the pursuit of self-interest run amok, outside the boundaries of justice. When banning the overseas slave trade was debated during the Constitutional Convention, the proposal was favored by some Virginia delegates. In response, a delegate from South Carolina pointed out that Virginia produced more slaves than she needed, whereas slaves died-off quickly in the miserable rice-paddies of the deep South, which depended on their continuous importation. This delegate maintained that Virginians favored abolishing the importation of new slaves -- not slavery per se; this was never seriously considered -- because this ban would restrict the market and thereby raise the price that Virginians could charge for their slaves.
I mention this example of hard-headed realpolitiks because, though extreme, it is typical of political debates during that period, many of which were arguments not over egoism versus altruism but over different perceptions of self-interest. Even when, as often occurred, references were made to the "public good" or the "national interest," it was maintained that such policies would ultimately benefit everyone.
There is another, and rather complicated, side to this story. The notion of "public virtue" was a common theme in 18th century America, and we do find arguments to the effect that individuals have an obligation to subordinate the pursuit of their own interests to the greater public good. But, depending on the writer, this could mean nothing more than that individuals have an obligation to pursue their own interests within the boundaries of justice, i.e., while respecting the rights of others. Rand agreed with this position, of course, and she didn't regard respecting the rights of others as altruistic.
The call for self-sacrifice also played a conspicuous role in matters pertaining to war; the willingness to sacrifice one's own life while defending American freedom was regarded as a great virtue. Again, Rand stands in basic agreement; the difference is that she doesn't call this a "sacrifice."
Anyway, this is very complicated subject, but -- to repeat -- I don't see how altruism (in the Randian sense) played a significant role during the early years of the American Republic. If you think it did, then you will need to mention some specific writers who advocated altruism, or some dominant themes that embodied altruistic ideals.
Ghs

George,

When Ayn Rand said, “From her start,” I suspect she meant to say that the Founding Fathers, because of the contradictions in their beliefs, had sown the seeds for the America’s eventual decline. Prior to the Civil War, most federal interventions seem to have been justified on economic grounds. Even so, altruism was not a major factor in America’s decline until the second half of the 19th century.

While Jefferson may not have been an open advocate for the ethics of altruism, he was quoted as saying that the moral system of Jesus was ‘the most sublime and benevolent code of morals which has ever been offered to man.” Jefferson’s Bible, while obviously superior to other Bibles because of its strong emphasis on reason, unfortunately did retain many dubious ethical ideas, such as the Sermon on the Mount and the suggestion that we should not place too high a value on the things of this world. While not an endorsement of altruism, it was also far from being an endorsement of rational self-interest. As a champion of the secularized Jesus, the genius behind the Declaration and the right to “the pursuit of happiness,” still had a tendency to extol selflessness as an ethical ideal. Like many of their Enlightenment influences—e.g., the openly Christian John Locke—he and the other founders held a number of contradictory philosophical views. You can find any number of references where they appear to express contempt for religion, and just as many references to suggest the opposite.

Rand’s position was that the founders needed to explicitly endorse egoism as America’s moral foundation, and, because they didn’t—because they left altruism largely unchallenged—conventional ethical influences would eventually erode capitalism. As it turns out, those contradictions festered for nearly a century, but once they emerged, capitalism was exposed as a social system without a philosophical foundation, and had to collapse.

The institution of slavery was unquestionably a major impediment to America’s growth as a free nation, but we paid a huge price for it, and as horrible as the Civil War was, it demonstrated that we were willing to take responsibility for our mistake. Consequently, I doubt whether it remains a major factor today.

I don't want to give the impression that I dismiss the influence of altruism on American political thought. I don't, but I would place its rise much later than Rand does.
Altruism became a dominant theme in American politics after the Civil War. A primary influence here was Hegel. Many American professors studied at German universities, and they returned home enchanted with Hegel's notion of the organismic state. The state, according to Hegel, "is the divine idea as it exists on earth." (For a discussion of Hegel's influence in late 19th century America, see Arthur Ekirch, Decline of American Liberalism.)

Again, I don’t think you are disagreeing with Ayn Rand here. As you may or may not know, she made Peikoff do so many redrafts of The Ominous Parallels that she was practically the co-author. In Chapter 14, titled “America Reverses Direction,” Peikoff discusses in some detail the impact of the influx of German philosophy on The Progressive Era in the late 19th Century and the decades which followed. The chapter begins as follows: “America, as conceived by the Founding Fathers, lasted about a century.” (Prior to the Civil War, the transcendentalism of Raplh Waldo Emerson reflected some early influences of Gerrman Romanticism but, as far as I know, Emerson’s followers did not have that much impact politically. I believe transcendentalism was largely motivated by the wish to save Chrisitianity from science and the Enlightenment.)

I have not read Ekirch, so I do not know if he discusses how intellectuals used Hegelian collectivist ideas to corrupt the meaning of liberty. Hegelian Richard Ely, for example, was quoted as saying that the growth of statism might “lessen theoretical liberty,” while it “promotes the growth of practical liberty” (since the state represents the “true self” of the individual). Such collectivist arguments are clearly a variant of altruism, in that they presume the individual only has reality as a part of the group and may be sacrificed for the sake of the group. Incidentally, as I understand it, the Right Hegelians were Christian and interpreted the Absolute in Hegel’s Dialectics as simply a variation on the fundamentalist idea of God, making this bit of history somewhat more relevant to a thread on Christianity and Liberty.

Here is more evidence of the impact of altruism in American history. In view of your prior comments about what does or does not constitute altruism, I am interested in your reaction.

Prominent intellectuals in the late 19th and early 20th Century who called for major government intervention in the name of social justice and social welfare included: Henry Demarest Lloyd (Wealth Against Commonwealth), an early advocate for nationalization; Henry George (Progress and Poverty), who advocated for public ownership of all land; Thorstein Veblen (The Theory of the Leisure Class), another prominent socialist who wrote of the inherent conflict between profit and the general welfare; novelist Edward Bellamy (Looking Backwards), who envisioned a transformed America as a socialist utopia. The Interstate Commerce Commission and the Sherman Antitrust Act were early attempts by the government to instigate the social reforms these thinkers advocated in the name of the “common good."

The Progressive Movement in the early 20th Century was to some extent Christian and explicitly altruistic. The “Social Gospel” wing of Progressivism broke away from the earlier Protestant emphasis on individualism to adopt an aggressively altruistic agenda of social justice and social reform and the creation of an interventionist welfare state in the name of Christian morality. A number of Christian spokesmen had a part in that movement, including Josiah Strong, Washington Gladden and Walter Rauschenbusch.

Herbert Croly spelled out the Progressive ideology in The Promise of American Life in 1909. The “traditional American confidence in individual freedom,” Croly argued, “has resulted in a morally and socially undesirable distribution of wealth,” something that should be corrected by sacrificing and subordinating “the individual to the demand of a dominant and constructive national purpose.” Progressives managed to push through a number of interventions and regulations, including the Federal Trade Commission Act, the creation of the Federal Reserve and the Sixteenth Amendment, which helped free the federal government from fiscal restraints. Then came President Wilson’s selfless effort to make the world “safe for democracy” in the First World War. ” “We have no selfish ends to serve,” he proclaimed. “We seek no . . . compensation for the sacrifices we shall freely make.” Croly, editor of the New Republic, justified the war on the grounds that the nation needed “the tonic of a serious moral adventure.”

Herbert Hoover’s interventionist policies helped transform some relatively minor economic setbacks into the Great Depression. “Sacrifice by all groups,” said Hoover, “is essential to the salvation of the nation.” Then came the massive interventionist policies of FDR’s New Deal: “ ‘Not for ourselves but for others.’ That motto can well be the inspiration of all of us,” said FDR, “not alone for the fine purposes of charity, but also for our guidance in our public and private service. Selfishness is without doubt the greatest danger that confronts our beloved country today.”

World War II was an excuse for even more extensive socialist measures. More altruistic BS from FDR: “If ever there was a time to subordinate individual . . . selfishness for the national good, that time is now.” Taxes, government spending, the national debt, and inflation reached levels this country had never seen before. FDR frequently invoked the “Christian ideal” to justify America’s involvement in the war. In a radio address, FDR described the Nazi plan to "abolish all existing religions" and to replace "the cross of Christ" with the swastika and the sword. "We stand ready in defense of our nation and the faith of our fathers to do what God has given us the power to see as our full duty."

After the New Deal, there came the social welfare programs of LBJ’s ‘Great Society”: ”Government must always be compassionate,” said LBJ. It is by the “great dedication of selfless men” that we help the “ill clad and ill fed and ill housed.” And then came Nixon and his wage and price controls: “A strong and healthy spirit,” said Tricky Dick, “means a willingness to sacrifice . . . when a short-term personal sacrifice is needed in the long-term public interest.”

Unfortunately, time prohibits citing sources for all of these quotes. A number of them are from an article by Michael Dahlen in The Objective Standard. I can dig up the rest if anyone cares.

And I elected not to bore you with the more recent altruistic bromides used by Ford, Carter, Bush I and II, Clinton and Obama to justify their numerous 'idealistic' efforts to abrogate liberty. (Reagan is probably equally culpable but I'm excusing him because I feel like it.) The stomach can only handle so much.

George H. Smith · June 7, 2010

While Jefferson may not have been an open advocate for the ethics of altruism, he was quoted as saying that the moral system of Jesus was the most sublime and benevolent code of morals which has ever been offered to man. Jeffersons Bible, while obviously superior to other Bibles because of its strong emphasis on reason, unfortunately did retain many dubious ethical ideas, such as the Sermon on the Mount and the suggestion that we should not place too high a value on the things of this world. While not an endorsement of altruism, it was also far from being an endorsement of rational self-interest. As a champion of the secularized Jesus, the genius behind the Declaration and the right to the pursuit of happiness, still had a tendency to extol selflessness as an ethical ideal. Like many of their Enlightenment influencese.g., the openly Christian John Lockehe and the other founders held a number of contradictory philosophical views. You can find any number of references where they appear to express contempt for religion, and just as many references to suggest the opposite.
Rands position was that the founders needed to explicitly endorse egoism as Americas moral foundation, and, because they didntbecause they left altruism largely unchallengedconventional ethical influences would eventually erode capitalism. As it turns out, those contradictions festered for nearly a century, but once they emerged, capitalism was exposed as a social system without a philosophical foundation, and had to collapse.

Jefferson never wrote a systematic essay or treatise on ethics; for information about his moral beliefs we need to rely mainly on his letters, and they express ideas that are sometimes difficult to reconcile. (Jefferson may have changed his mind about some things over time.) This much is clear: Jefferson, following in the tradition of Francis Hutcheson, Lord Kames, and other luminaries of the Scottish Enlightenment, embraced a "moral sense" theory of ethics, and this is essential to understanding the position he took on some philosophical controversies.

Unfortunately, this is a complicated subject, especially since moral sense philosophers disagreed among themselves on some key issues, and I'm not inclined right now to get into the details. For now -- and at the risk of oversimplifying -- suffice it to say that moral sense philosophers were primarily concerned with the motives that incline us to be moral. Indeed, it is fair to say that these philosophers were more concerned with moral psychology than they were with what we would call "moral philosophy" today. This is why they frequently spoke of passions , sentiments, and faculties, instead of moral ideas and theories.

Jefferson did not believe that the great crimes in history, especially those perpetrated by governments, had been caused by an excess of benevolence or by too much good will among men. On the contrary, he believed that tyrants and despots used power to further their own interests, just as nonpolitical criminals, such as murderers and thieves, violate the rights of others in order to serve their own interests. Jefferson therefore regarded the unrestrained pursuit of self-interest -- i.e., self-interest with no concern for the rights of others -- as a great moral threat that it was the business of ethics to counteract.

It is safe to say that this was a fundamental concern of moral philosophers throughout the 17th and 18th centuries, and this must always be kept in mind when we find, as we often do, criticisms of the "selfish passions." It is a huge mistake to construe such remarks as repudiations of "rational self-interest." This was not the point at all. Rather, the point was to restrain the "selfish passions" so that tyrants and others would not use force to exploit and murder their fellow men. For example, in Notes on the State of Virginia, Jefferson claims that the advance of civilization "teaches us to subdue the selfish passions, and to respect those rights in others which we value in ourselves." (Writings, Library of America ed., p. 186.)

In their analysis of moral psychology, moral sense philosophers typically distinguished self-regarding motives from other-regarding motives. This was a distinction, not a dichotomy, for they fervently maintained that our long-range, rational self-interest is best served by respecting the legitimate moral claims of others, especially their rights. But some members of this school did use this distinction to argue that self-interest is not the ultimate foundation of morality. As Jefferson explained in a letter to Thomas Law (June 13, 1814):

Self-interest, or rather self-love, or egoism, has been more plausibly substituted as the basis for morality. But I consider our relations with others as constituting the boundaries of morality. With ourselves we stand on the ground of identity, not of relation, which last, requiring two subjects, excludes self-love confined to a single one. To ourselves, in strict language, we can owe no duties, obligation also requiring two parties. Self-love, therefore, is no part of morality. Indeed it is exactly its counterpart. It is the sole antagonist of virtue, leading us constantly by our propensities to self-gratification in violation of our moral duties to others. Accordingly, it is against this enemy that are erected the batteries of moralists and religionists, as the only obstacle to the practice of morality.

In the typical fashion of moral sense philosophers, Jefferson then goes on to argue that "nature hath implanted in our breasts a love of others, a sense of duty to them, a moral instinct, in short, which prompts us irresistibly to feel and succor their distresses, and protests against the language of Helvetius, 'what other motive than self-interest could determine a man to generous actions?'"

Now, before we jump all over Jefferson for being an altruist, we need to keep in mind that he regarded these other-regarding virtues as "necessary to [the] happiness and even existence" of individuals. Honesty, for example, "promotes interest in the long run." Jefferson's point was simply that benevolence and other social virtues are not ultimately motivated by self-interested considerations. There is something in human nature -- a "moral sense" -- that generates within us a disinterested concern for the welfare of others.

This is the background against which we should consider Jefferson's praise for the ethics of Jesus. I will attempt to get to that later today.

Ghs

George H. Smith · June 7, 2010

Dennis,

This is a continuation of my last post.

Jefferson's interest in the ethics of Jesus was sparked after he read a pamphlet, Jesus and Socrates Compared (1803), by the English Unitarian minister and chemist Joseph Priestley (who has often been credited with the discovery of oxygen).

Jefferson's version of Unitarianism was essentially Deism of the sort that had arisen during the 17th century. Although nominally Christian, this form of Deism rejected "special revelation" (e.g., divine scripture, miracles, prophecy, etc.) in favor of "natural revelation," i.e., natural laws as revealed to us by reason.

Deists commonly maintained that doctrinal differences, based on special revelations that cannot be rationally justified, were the source of unending religious conflicts. They further maintained that if we boil all the great religions down to their cores, we will find similar moral teachings that can be rationally justified. These fundamental moral doctrines constituted the "religion of nature." Here is how Jefferson put it in a letter to James Fishbeck (Sept. 27, 1809).

Every religion consists of moral precepts, and of dogmas. In the first they all agree. All forbid us to murder, steal, plunder, bear false witness & ca. and these are the articles necessary for the preservation of order, justice, and happiness in society. In their particular dogmas all differ; no two professing the same.

Note how the moral precepts mentioned by Jefferson all pertain to the virtue of justice. None of these would qualify as "altruistic" in Rand's sense of the word, even though Jefferson (as explained in my previous post) viewed them as nonegoistic in origin.

After reading Jesus and Socrates Compared, Jefferson said (in a letter to Priestley, April 9, 1803) that he had been thinking for five years about writing a broader treatment that discussed "the moral doctrines of the most remarkable of the ancient philosophers, of whose ethics we have sufficient information to write an estimate...." Jefferson never fulfilled his plan, but he did write a Syllabus of an Estimate of the Merit of the Doctrines of Jesus, Compared with Those of Others (April 21, 1803), which he enclosed in a letter to Dr. Benjamin Rush (the "father" of American psychiatry).

In his Syllabus, Jefferson presents brief explanations of why he regarded the moral teachings of Jesus as superior to those of other ancient philosophers and religionists.

1) The ancient philosophers focused on moral precepts "related chiefly to ourselves, and the government of those passions which, unrestrained, would disturb the tranquility of mind." Jefferson concludes: "In this branch of philosophy, they were really great." But in "developing our duties to others, they were short and defective." They advocated justice, but sometimes restricted this virtue within a narrow sphere. (Jefferson may have been thinking of Aristotle's distinction between Greeks and barbarians, the latter being "natural slaves.") And only rarely did they extend the virtue of benevolence to "the whole family of mankind." (There are problems in this account; I am merely summarizing Jefferson's views.)

2) Jefferson next considers the ethical system of the ancient Jews. He viewed Jesus (correctly) as effecting a reformation in the tribal ethics of Judaism. He wrote:

Their Ethics were not only imperfect, but often irreconcilable with the sound dictates of reason & morality, as they respect intercourse with those around us; & repulsive and anti-social, as respecting other nations. [Here, Jefferson was probably thinking of the savage genocidal wars waged against the Canaanites and other peoples, as reported in the Old Testament.] They needed reformation, therefore, in an eminent degree.

(3) Lastly, Jefferson takes up the ethics of Jesus, while hedging his praise with a number of qualifications, e.g.:

Hence the doctrines which he really delivered were defective as a whole, and fragments only of what he did deliver have come to us mutilated, misstated, & often unintelligible. They have been still more disfigured by the corruptions of schismatising followers, who have found an interest in sophisticating & perverting the simple doctrines he taught....

Despite these problems, Jefferson concludes:

Notwithstanding these disadvantages, a system of morals is presented to us, which, if filled up in the true style and spirit of the rich fragments he has left us, would be the most perfect and sublime that has ever been taught by man. [My italics.]

Jefferson gives two basic reasons for this conclusion.

First, the moral precepts of Jesus "went far beyond" the ancient Jews and moral philosophers "in inculcating universal philanthropy, not only to kindred and friends, to neighbors and countrymen, but to all mankind, gathering all into one family, under the bonds of love, charity, peace, common wants and common aids."

Second, in contrast to the Hebrew code, which focused only on actions, Jesus "pushed his scrutiny into the heart of man; erected his tribunal in the regions of his thoughts, and purified the waters at the fountainhead." (This internal aspect of morality was crucial to Jefferson and other moral sense philosophers who, as I noted in my last post, focused on moral psychology.)

Okay, that's my summary. So do I agree with Jefferson? No, certainly not in every respect. But do I regard his approach as a pernicious form of altruism that undercut his defense of individual rights? No, not at all. On the contrary, Jefferson's endorsement of "gathering all [mankind] into one family, under the bonds of love, charity, peace, common wants and common aids" was essential to his defense of equal rights and his condemnation of the use of force, except in self-defense.

Ghs

Dennis Hardin · June 8, 2010

Okay, that's my summary. So do I agree with Jefferson? No, certainly not in every respect. But do I regard his approach as a pernicious form of altruism that undercut his defense of individual rights? No, not at all. On the contrary, Jefferson's endorsement of "gathering all [mankind] into one family, under the bonds of love, charity, peace, common wants and common aids" was essential to his defense of equal rights and his condemnation of the use of force, except in self-defense.
Ghs

George,

That is a fascinating exposition of Jefferson’s views on ethics, and I want to thank you for it. Clear, logical and concise. You mention Hutcheson and Kames, but I thought their more famous contemporary, David Hume, was the best known of the ‘moral sense’ philosophers. I mention Hume in order to put his ethical views in a wider philosophical context. Hume’s ethics, of course, were consistent with his general world view, which was that of empiricism—i.e., the only matters of fact are those discernable by the senses. Ethical principles, since they are not perceptible, are not matters of fact or objective qualities but perceptions in the mind. Reason has nothing to say about matters of vice and virtue. Reason can only intervene with respect to means, not ends. “Nothing can be more real, or concern us more, than our own sentiments of pleasure and uneasiness; and if these be favorable to virtue and unfavorable to vice, no more can be requisite to the regulation of our conduct and behavior.” (A Treatise of Human Nature)

So morality is fundamentally a matter of subjective feeling (sentiments and passions). I can understand that such a view evolved in a historical context where thinkers were desperately seeking some ethical means of restraining tyrants, and that unrestrained self-interest and self-love were believed to constitute a license for brutality and murder. I am not that familiar with Hutcheson and Kame, but Hume, of course, was an atheist and could not invoke God and the Ten Commandments. Without religious restraints, it was believed that men would have no reason not to indulge their “propensities for self-gratification.” So Hume simply argued that humans “naturally” have “other-regarding motives” which manifest themselves as moral passions, and asserted that we must abide by that ethical “inner sense.”

Jefferson was drawn to Hume’s approach, because the quasi-egoistic, self-oriented approach of the ancient philosophers provided no justification of a duty to others, and thus left the door wide open for tyrants to exploit their fellow men. Self-love was deemed deficient as a means to govern our darkest passions. Jefferson took to Jesus’ teachings, because he "pushed his scrutiny into the heart of man;”----and expanded the common core of religious teachings forbidding murder and plundering into a “universal philanthropy… under the bonds of love, charity, peace, common wants and common aids…” He then used this “moral psychology” to develop and defend his belief in equal rights and noncoercion.

Such a subjective view of moral psychology may well have been understandable from the point-of-view of Jefferson’s historical context, but there was no way such a feeling-based approach to human nature was going to ultimately prevail. Whether he acknowleged it or not, Jefferson was endorsing the Humean premise that reason had no say where virtue and vice were concerned. If desires are the standard, who is to say that one person’s ‘moral sense’ is superior to someone else’s? Even Kant recognized that reason had to have a role in determining moral choices if we are to avoid subjectivism and skepticism in ethics. The only alternative is conflict and chaos in the realm of values. Needless to say, Kant’s severance of reason from ‘things-in-themselves’ prevented him from finding a foundation for values in the facts of man’s “noumenal” nature as a rational being.

Although you say you don’t entirely agree with Jefferson, you appear to suggest that his moral defense of individual rights was perfectly adequate as a foundation for freedom. We will definitely have to agree to disagree on that. No, Jefferson was not an altruist. Nor, to my knowledge, were the other Founding Fathers. And the ethical defense they relied upon may have been the best they could come up with at the time. But an emotivist moral defense is inherently chaotic and contradictory, because emotions need reason as an arbiter. The centuries old, quasi-religious ethic of self-sacrifice was left intact, lurking in the background, ready to re-emerge triumphant at some undefined point in the future.

Jefferson’s argument against egoism--“To ourselves, in strict language, we can owe no duties, obligation also requiring two parties. Self-love, therefore, is no part of morality. Indeed it is exactly its counterpart. It is the sole antagonist of virtue, leading us constantly by our propensities to self-gratification in violation of our moral duties to others”—is, of course, the standard argument of egoism’s detractors. To wit, egoism provides no objective moral principles other than seeking your self-interest. This view dispenses with the connection between human nature and the objective requirements of human life. Moral obligation does not require two parties—just one that recognizes his life as a fact requiring certain actions if he is to have a successful life. (Needless to say, it also requires granting the same freedom to others.) The Founding Fathers provided a political system consistent with those requirements but not an ethical one. That was the contradiction that would eventually spell America’s doom.

George H. Smith · June 8, 2010

George,
That is a fascinating exposition of Jefferson’s views on ethics, and I want to thank you for it. Clear, logical and concise.

I'm enjoying our exchanges, but I fear I may be going into too much detail to maintain the interest of many OL readers. But I will take my chances.

You mention Hutcheson and Kames, but I thought their more famous contemporary, David Hume, was the best known of the ‘moral sense’ philosophers. I mention Hume in order to put his ethical views in a wider philosophical context....

I will try to address your comments about Hume at a later time. For now, I want to reiterate a point I made earlier, namely, that moral sense philosophers had significant disagreements among themselves.

Hume is not really relevant to a discussion of Jefferson. Jefferson's brand of empiricism was Lockean, not Humean -- and there were very significant differences. In addition, there is no evidence that Hume's approach to ethics had the slightest influence on Jefferson. On the contrary, Jefferson detested Hume, primarily in regard to his multi-volume History of England and its political implications.

Hume, in Jefferson's eyes, was the great apologist for the absolutism of the Stuarts. Hume "spared nothing...to wash them white, and to palliate their misgovernment. For this purpose he suppressed truths, advanced falsehoods, forged authorities, and falsified records." Hume's style was so bewitching that "all England became Tories by the magic of his art. His pen revolutionized the public sentiment of that country more completely than the standing armies could ever have done...(Letter to Washington, Oct. 25, 1825). In an earlier letter to William Duane (August 12, 1810), Jefferson recalls how he had read Hume's History as a student, and how much time, research, and reflection it took him "to eradicate the poison it had instilled into my mind."

To appreciate the significance of these condemnations, we need to remember that history, for Jefferson and his contemporaries, was an important source of philosophical knowledge. I don't recall that Jefferson ever made any favorable comments about Hume in any area; as I said, he detested the man.

In the same letter I quoted in an earlier post (June 13, 1814), in which Jefferson discusses moral sense theory, he specifically recommends Lord Kames's book on the subject, Essays on the Principles of Morality and Natural Religion. (The 3rd edition, 1779, has been reprinted by Liberty Fund as part of its invaluable series, "Natural Law and Enlightenment Classics.")

There are two significant aspects of this book, so far as our discussion is concerned. First, it includes a lengthy criticism of Hume not only in ethics but in epistemology as well. Second, Kames (p. 45) makes it clear that moral sense theory is not antagonistic to the pursuit of rational self-interest. On the contrary, after stating that the "love of life" is the "strongest of all instincts," he mentions "self-love, or desire of our own happiness and good," as the "second principle of action" that is rooted in human nature. He continues:

[self-love] is a stronger principle than benevolence, or love bestowed upon others: wisely so ordered; because every man has more power, knowledge, and opportunity, to promote his own good than that of others. Thus individuals are left mainly to their own care. It is agreeable to the limited nature of such a creature as man, that it should be so; and, consequently, it is wisely ordered, that every man should have the stronger affection for himself.

In a manner that Jefferson and many liberals would later follow, Kames goes on to argue that self-interest, when pursued within the boundaries of justice, "will promote the general good in the best and most effectual manner...even when it is not our immediate aim." This, of course, is another formulation of Adam Smith's "invisible hand" -- a notion that was popular in liberal political philosophy long before Smith coined that felicitous phrase.

My point here, again, is that it would be a serious error to call this line of thinking "altruistic." There was not the least bit of animus here to the pursuit of rational self-interest.

Ghs

Xray · June 8, 2010

Historically considered, "Christianity" is a broad label that encompasses many different philosophical traditions and perspectives. But it has at its core a very egoistic view of personal salvation. The Christian is concerned, first and foremost, with attaining eternal happiness for himself. And though Christianity has always preached "charity" as one of its virtues, this is not really "altruism" in the Comtean (or Randian) sense.

The self-interest is 100 percent, for the sacrifices and acts of charity are performed in order to obtain the reward of eternal life in heaven.

No one will engage in a sacrifice because they expect to get a lower value. They want the higher value in exchange.

I can't think of a single act of sacrifice where this is not the case.

The call for self-sacrifice also played a conspicuous role in matters pertaining to war; the willingness to sacrifice one's own life while defending American freedom was regarded as a great virtue. Again, Rand stands in basic agreement; the difference is that she doesn't call this a "sacrifice."

The Old Romans had an extra proverb for the virtuous sacrifice 'dying for one's country': "Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori".

Edited June 8, 2010 by Xray

Brant Gaede · June 8, 2010

I don't see how you can talk about "self-love" and "benevolence" without considering sexual differentia.

--Brant

Edited June 8, 2010 by Brant Gaede

imurray · June 9, 2010

I'm enjoying our exchanges, but I fear I may be going into too much detail to maintain the interest of many OL readers. But I will take my chances.

George and Dennis:

I am enjoying the exchange immensely. I don't have much to add to the conversation so I've been relatively quiet, but I have been reading every word.

Xray:

Of course you have the right to comment, but we have already had a discussion about altruism where you, George, and others went back and forth. The fascinating thing about this thread is that both George and Dennis have done an amazing job of contextualizing 'abstract' ideas within a well-researched 'concrete', historical, discourse. While it is true that the "debate on altruism" is relevant to the conversation and there is a fair amount of 'abstract' theory-work being done in the 'background', this thread is about Christianity and Liberty and, in my opinion, should not be hijacked by rehashing the general debate on altruism that has cropped up in a number of other threads.

Ian

merjet · June 9, 2010

I'm enjoying our exchanges, but I fear I may be going into too much detail to maintain the interest of many OL readers. But I will take my chances.

George and Dennis, I have enjoyed reading your posts, too. For what it's worth and assuming it's accurate enough, here is a brief article about the state of moral theory around the time of Hume.

Dennis Hardin · June 10, 2010

George,

Once again, thank you for clarifying Jeffersons antagonism to Hume. Hopefully the prior two posts have fortified your motivation to proceed. If Merlin and Panoptic are following this exchange, no doubt others are as well. [bTW, thanks very much to both of you for your support. I do not pretend to be the brilliant scholar that George is. Thankfully, he appears to have the patience of Job.]

In a prior post, you said:

In their analysis of moral psychology, moral sense philosophers typically distinguished self-regarding motives from other-regarding motives. This was a distinction, not a dichotomy, for they fervently maintained that our long-range, rational self-interest is best served by respecting the legitimate moral claims of others, especially their rights. But some members of this school did use this distinction to argue that self-interest is not the ultimate foundation of morality. As Jefferson explained in a letter to Thomas Law (June 13, 1814):
"Self-interest, or rather self-love, or egoism, has been more plausibly substituted as the basis for morality. But I consider our relations with others as constituting the boundaries of morality. With ourselves we stand on the ground of identity, not of relation, which last, requiring two subjects, excludes self-love confined to a single one. To ourselves, in strict language, we can owe no duties, obligation also requiring two parties. Self-love, therefore, is no part of morality. Indeed it is exactly its counterpart. It is the sole antagonist of virtue, leading us constantly by our propensities to self-gratification in violation of our moral duties to others. Accordingly, it is against this enemy that are erected the batteries of moralists and religionists, as the only obstacle to the practice of morality."

In your last post, you said:

Kames (p. 45) makes it clear that moral sense theory is not antagonistic to the pursuit of rational self-interest. On the contrary, after stating that the "love of life" is the "strongest of all instincts," he mentions "self-love, or desire of our own happiness and good," as the "second principle of action" that is rooted in human nature. He continues:
"[self-love] is a stronger principle than benevolence, or love bestowed upon others: wisely so ordered; because every man has more power, knowledge, and opportunity, to promote his own good than that of others. Thus individuals are left mainly to their own care. It is agreeable to the limited nature of such a creature as man, that it should be so; and, consequently, it is wisely ordered, that every man should have the stronger affection for himself."
My point here, again, is that it would be a serious error to call this line of thinking "altruistic." There was not the least bit of animus here to the pursuit of rational self-interest.
Ghs

The first post seems to say that Jefferson denies that self-love is any part of morality. The second post suggests that Kames did regard self-love as a moral principle, and, further, that he saw it as rooted in human nature. Did Jefferson depart from Kames on that point?

Certainly Kames view seems compatible with rational self-interest, although it isnt clear to me how Kames justifies that.vis-à-vis human nature. In any case, I am certainly not contending that Jefferson was an altruist. In fact, if Jeffersons position was at all similar to the above underlined statement from Kames, his moral views were probably the best one might have hoped for from one of the Founding Fathers.

Even so, I dont see how this conflicts with Rands view that Americas decline a century later was due to a lack of an ethical foundation. The issue, after all, is whether there was any substantial effort by all (or most) of the founders to break free philosophically from the two thousand year old tradition of equating morality with selflessness. Jefferson may have made some strides in that direction, but his endorsement of the teachings of Jesus, whether intentional or not, very likely had the opposite effect in the popular mind of his day. Christianity and its ethical underpinnings required a much stronger antidote. Without that antidote, Americas fate was sealed.

Edited June 10, 2010 by Dennis Hardin

dan2100 · June 10, 2010

Since the issue of religion and politics seems to crop up fairly often on OL (most recently on the Glenn Beck thread), I thought I would post this article that I wrote for the Acton Institute -- a Catholic libertarian outfit -- many years ago and see what kind of comments it elicits.

Not to address George's points directly, with regard to Beck the main problem for me is not so much his being religious, but, aside from his other anti-libertarian stances, his position is blaming much of the bad things of American statism on atheists and atheism as such. It's not as if, from what I've heard and watched from him, that he's saying, "We can work with atheists and atheism is compatible with less intrusive government."

Xray · June 10, 2010

I don't see how you can talk about "self-love" and "benevolence" without considering sexual differentia.

In case you wrote this in jest, I didn't get the joke. (?)

In case you menat it seriously, TIA for explaining what you mean.

Not to address George's points directly, with regard to Beck the main problem for me is not so much his being religious, but, aside from his other anti-libertarian stances, his position is blaming much of the bad things of American statism on atheists and atheism as such.

What is Beck's main fear from atheists and atheism?

If an atheist who values liberty meets a Christian who values liberty, this common ground gives them a reason to value each other.

Chances are, should they engage in a discussion about the premises of the Christian belief, that a Christian who truly values liberty is going to examine those premises in depth, maybe for the first time. I speak from personal experience here.

But the opposite can also happen: that the topic belief /non-belief is avoided altogether by both because of the potential conflict it contains. Again, I speak from experience.

Like all organized religions, Christians demand the right to practice their belief, but they are often blind to the contradiction that their very own belief is based on the premise of non-freedom contained in the idea of original sin and humans depending completely on the mercy of a revengeful god.

But the veil of blindness is being lifted more and more, at least here in Europe, where more and more people not only cancel their membership in organized religion, many of them also shed their faith in transcendence completely. One can speak of a veritable atheist movement here.

Edited June 10, 2010 by Xray

dan2100 · June 10, 2010

Not to address George's points directly, with regard to Beck the main problem for me is not so much his being religious, but, aside from his other anti-libertarian stances, his position is blaming much of the bad things of American statism on atheists and atheism as such.
What is Beck's main fear from atheists and atheism?

You'll have to ask him. I'm only going by what I've seen on his show or clips of it online, such as his comments with that person who was beaten to death on camera and Beck's blaming that on "godlessness" -- if I'm recalling his words exactly. I don't know if he presents any strong case for why this is so.

Also, there are other religious types I do know better who do make similar arguments. In these cases, they're not people who are merely battling statism and wouldn't mind coalitions with atheists, but who tend to see atheism as part of the problem. (Why do they believe this? Again, ask them. I'm sure they're not all that rare wherever you are.)

George H. Smith · June 11, 2010

Certainly Kames’ view seems compatible with rational self-interest, although it isn’t clear to me how Kames justifies that.vis-à-vis human nature. In any case, I am certainly not contending that Jefferson was an altruist. In fact, if Jefferson’s position was at all similar to the above underlined statement from Kames’, his moral views were probably the best one might have hoped for from one of the Founding Fathers.
Even so, I don’t see how this conflicts with Rand’s view that America’s decline a century later was due to a lack of an ethical foundation. The issue, after all, is whether there was any substantial effort by all (or most) of the founders to break free philosophically from the two thousand year old tradition of equating morality with selflessness. Jefferson may have made some strides in that direction, but his endorsement of the teachings of Jesus, whether intentional or not, very likely had the opposite effect in the popular mind of his day. Christianity and its ethical underpinnings required a much stronger antidote. Without that antidote, America’s fate was sealed.

The loss of American freedom had little if anything to do with the supposed altruism that underlay the moral philosophy of some of America's Founders. The fact that earlier libertarian philosophers disagreed with Rand about which voluntary actions should qualify as virtuous had little bearing on their theories of justice and rights, which were frequently sound.

On the whole, these theories of justice were quite compatible with Rand's presentation in "Man's Rights":

"Rights" are a moral concept—the concept that provides a logical transition from the principles guiding an individual's actions to the principles guiding his relationship with others—the concept that preserves and protects individual morality in a social context—the link between the moral code of a man and the legal code of a society, between ethics and politics. Individual rights are the means of subordinating society to moral law.

Hugo Grotius, writing in the early 17th century, was one of the most influential political philosophers of the modern era. Here is how I summarized his approach to justice in Thinking About War :

Grotius based his theory of rights on an ethics of rational self-interest. In the words of Richard Tuck (a leading authority in this field), Grotius "went back to the principles of the Stoics . . . in particular the Stoic claim that the primary force governing human affairs is the desire for self-preservation. But he interpreted this desire in moral terms, as the one and only universal right: no one could ever be blamed for protecting themselves. . . ."18
According to Grotius, reason enables man to formulate and act upon the general principles that set the foundation for a beneficial social order. Foremost among these conditions is the preservation of one's suum, i.e., moral jurisdiction and power over one's life, body, and liberty. For Grotius, these spheres of moral jurisdiction are expressed in terms of rights, which define and delimit the use of physical force in society. Grotius would have wholeheartedly agreed with Ayn Rand's statement that "Individual rights are the means of subordinating society to moral law."19
According to Grotius, people form political societies primarily for the individualistic purpose of protecting their rights from the violent invasions of others: "the end of society is to form a common and united aid to preserve to every one his own." Self-preservation is a fundamental right that is violated by the initiation of physical force, so self-defense is a right "which nature grants to every one."20 Rights "do not prohibit all use of force, but only that use of force . . . which attempts to take away the rights of another."21 The right of self-defense justifies the retaliatory use of force: "a person, if he has no other means of saving his life, is justified in using any forcible means of repelling an attack." This reasoning also applies to our conduct in a just war, which has as its purpose "the preservation of our lives and persons."22
If this approach can be called "egoistic," owing to its emphasis on the morality of self-interested actions, we must keep in mind that it is a universalistic egoism — a form of egoism in which every person has an equal right to pursue his self-interest within the boundaries of justice. Considered in terms of fundamentals, this approach is the same as that found in the ethical egoism of Ayn Rand. Unlike the egoism of (say) Max Stirner, Rand maintains that the pursuit of rational self-interest should take the rights of other people into account; indeed, the integration of self-interest and rights is perhaps the most impressive feature of her political theory. Nowhere does Rand suggest that respecting the rights of others is "altruistic."

It is fair to say that this basic approach is found in many of America's Founders, including Jefferson. The problem lay not in this foundation but in how it was developed into a full-fledged theory of freedom, rights, and government. (Grotius, for example, endorsed many positions that would have been repugnant to Rand.)

Once you get into the details of rights theory, you encounter many problems that philosophers have stumbled over time and again. Rand avoided many of these problems by the brevity of her treatments; she simply didn't consider such problems at all.

Even so, it really wasn't owing to technical flaws in theories of rights per se that constituted the Achilles' Heel of political philosophy, a weakness that led to the degeneration of freedom in America. Lockeans, such as Jefferson, agreed with Rand that all rights are ultimately the rights of individuals, and that a government can claim no rights except those that have been voluntarily delegated to it by individuals. There was absolutely no difference here. Nor was there any difference in how vague Lockeans and Rand were in explaining exactly how this process comes about, whereby individuals surrender some of their rights -- or, more precisely, the power to enforce some rights -to a monopolistic agency called the government. And this intolerable laxity opened the door for all kinds of political mischief.

For those who believe that Rand was always more rigorous than her Lockean predecessors in upholding the sanctity of individual rights, I ask the following questions: Why didn't Rand call for the immediate abolition of coercive taxation, which she clearly recognized as a gross violation of individual rights? Why did she postpone the abolition of taxation into the distant future, claiming that this should be the last step on the road to a free society? Although Rand didn't say so explicitly, her fundamental reason was clear enough: immediate abolition would be impractical. Thus should this violation of rights, according to Rand, continue into the indefinite future, until we reach some unspecified point where individual rights can be fully respected.

I daresay that Rand's reasoning here, considered in terms of fundamentals, does not differ from the compromises of freedom that many of her classical liberal predecessors were willing to make.

I will also make the following claims, without defending them here:

First, even if most of America's Founders had agreed 100 percent with Rand's ethical theory, this would not have made a dime's worth of difference for the future of America, so long as we had the same Constitution that we do now. Many Anti-Federalists accurately predicted the deleterious long-term consequences if Americans ratified the Constitution.

Second (and this is something I alluded to above), a fundamental conflict in American political thought pertained to the attempt to reconcile individual rights with political sovereignty. And this conflict had far more to do with the degeneration of freedom in America than any so-called altruistic premises. Again, Rand avoided this conflict by simply ignoring the problem. Or, more precisely, she dismissed it with a sneer.

Ghs

Brant Gaede · June 11, 2010

I don't think you are saying, George, that the problem was a Constitution that should have been better written, but that there should have been--what? Rand had the idea in Atlas of a better Constitution, but I don't think she ever gave that much thought. She was more of a moral than a political philosopher and much more into moralizing than that. Atlas Shrugged was a gigantic attack on the altruist-collectivist axis rather than the affirmation of the positive. (This makes me wonder why some people read it over and over again. Three times was enough for me, now I only read pieces.)

George Washington refused to be a king. Instead we got the Constitution as King, inhabited more and more by power seeking and power mongering politicians. There was no longer any use for the intellectual founders; they were gone then then came Jackson. Even some of the Founding Fathers were corrupted by the power they wielded. The present sorry state of the world is perhaps a tribute to the inevitability of it all. There is much more at play than ideas, as important as they are. There seem to be various cycles that need to be played out. We may be coming to the end of one cycle as our government consumes itself. Then what? For starters, try to imagine a world, say, two hundred years from now with half as many people. That is the basic demographic trend. I am not talking about the consequences of war and disease. To understand the layer upon layer of complexity that will build the future we have to understand those layers that constitute the present and that is only really possible by understanding how they played out in the past. Not only does this require a competent liberal arts education, but the realization that such an education does not exclude hard science. For instance, biology and psychology. Climate and geology, tribalism and the need and purpose of religion. Reason and scientific methodology. Why war? It never stops, certainly not at the age of 22.

--Brant

Edited June 11, 2010 by Brant Gaede

dan2100 · June 11, 2010

I don't think you are saying, George, that the problem was a Constitution that should have been better written, but that there should have been--what? Rand had the idea in Atlas of a better Constitution, but I don't think she ever gave that much thought. She was more of a moral than a political philosopher and much more into moralizing than that. Atlas Shrugged was a gigantic attack on the altruist-collectivist axis rather than the affirmation of the positive. (This makes me wonder why some people read it over and over again. Three times was enough for me, now I only read pieces.)
George Washington refused to be a king. Instead we got the Constitution as King, inhabited more and more by power seeking and power mongering politicians. There was no longer any use for the intellectual founders; they were gone then then came Jackson. Even some of the Founding Fathers were corrupted by the power they wielded. The present sorry state of the world is perhaps a tribute to the inevitability of it all. There is much more at play than ideas, as important as they are. There seem to be various cycles that need to be played out. We may be coming to the end of one cycle as our government consumes itself. Then what? For starters, try to imagine a world, say, two hundred years from now with half as many people. That is the basic demographic trend. I am not talking about the consequences of war and disease. To understand the layer upon layer of complexity that will build the future we have to understand those layers that constitute the present and that is only really possible by understanding how they played out in the past. Not only does this require a competent liberal arts education, but the realization that such an education does not exclude hard science. For instance, biology and psychology. Climate and geology, tribalism and the need and purpose of religion. Reason and scientific methodology. Why war? It never stops, certainly not at the age of 22.
--Brant

Regarding the Constitution, my view, much influenced by George's writings, is that ratifying it was a definite watershed in the move towards centralized statism in America. The Articles of Confederation, while not perfectly libertarian, were much better because the national government had little power. The adoption of Constitution did much to strengthen the national state and that state's elite. Also, much of what I've read seems to reinforce that this was partly a power grab in similar fashion to many power grabs done today: talk starts of a looming crisis, organized interests who stand to benefit earnestly push for a change, then the change comes about, mostly molded behind the scenes and foisted on the nation, and, finally, after the change court intellectuals start churning out a mythical history surrounding it.

I also don't think the choice was between a flesh and blood king or the Constitution (or national state) as king. I do think the powermonger began in earnest much earlier, too. Not just with the Constitution itself -- though recall people like Alexander Hamilton were involved. Certainly, he was no stranger to powerlust. It started long before that and, in my view, gave impetus to having a Constitutional Convention in the first place. (That and the drive of many influential debt holders to get paid off -- hence the drive to have a national government with tax powers.)

Also, I wouldn't paint Washington as free of this taint either and I think ever his admirers should admit that he was far from flawless.

Christianity and Liberty

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