Berry, Ch (2009)_David Hume

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David Hume


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The Major Conservative and Libertarian Thinkers series aims to show thatthere is a rigorous, scholarly tradition of social and political thought

that may be broadly described as ‘conservative’, ‘libertarian’ or some

combination of the two.

The series aims to show that conservatism is not simply a reaction

against contemporary events, nor a privileging of intuitive thought

over deductive reasoning; libertarianism is not simply an apology for

unfettered capitalism or an attempt to justify a misguided atomisticconcept of the individual. Rather, the thinkers in this series have devel-

oped coherent intellectual positions that are grounded in empirical

reality and also founded upon serious philosophical reection on the

relationship between the individual and society, how the social institu-

tions necessary for a free society are to be established and maintained,

and the implications of the limits to human knowledge and certainty.

Each volume in the series presents a thinker’s ideas in an accessible

and cogent manner to provide an indispensable work for both students

with varying degrees of familiarity with the topic as well as more

advanced scholars.

The following 20 volumes that make up the entire Major Conservativeand Libertarian Thinkers series are written by international scholars andexperts.

The Salamanca School Andre Azevedo Alves (LSE, UK) &Professor José Manuel Moreira (Porto,

Portugal)

Thomas Hobbes Dr R. E. R. Bunce (Cambridge, UK) John Locke Professor Eric Mack (Tulane, US) David Hume Professor Christopher J. Berry (Glasgow,

UK)

Adam Smith Professor James Otteson (Yeshiva, US) Edmund Burke Professor Dennis O’Keeffe (Buckingham,

UK)

Alexis de Tocqueville Dr Alan S Kahan (Paris, France)Herbert Spencer Alberto Mingardi (Istituto Bruno Leoni,

Italy)


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Ludwig von Mises Richard Ebeling (Trinity College) Joseph A. Schumpeter Professor John Medearis (Riverside,

California, US)

F. A. Hayek Dr Adam Tebble (UCL, UK)Michael Oakeshott Dr Edmund Neill (Oxford, UK)Karl Popper Dr Phil Parvin (Cambridge, UK)Ayn Rand Professor Mimi Gladstein (Texas, US)

Milton Friedman Dr William Ruger (Texas State, US) James M. Buchanan Dr John Meadowcroft (King’s CollegeLondon, UK)

The Modern Papacy Dr Samuel Gregg (Acton Institute, US)Robert Nozick Ralf Bader (St Andrews, UK)Russell Kirk John PafforsdMurray Rothbard Gerard Casey

Of course, in any series of this nature, choices have to be made as to

which thinkers to include and which to leave out. Two of the thinkers in

the series – F. A. Hayek and James M. Buchanan – have written explicit

statements rejecting the label ‘conservative’. Similarly, other thinkers,

such as David Hume and Karl Popper, may be more accurately described

as classical liberals than either conservatives or libertarians. But these

thinkers have been included because a full appreciation of this particu-lar tradition of thought would be impossible without their inclusion;

conservative and libertarian thought cannot be fully understood with-

out some knowledge of the intellectual contributions of Hume, Hayek,

Popper and Buchanan, among others. While no list of conservative and

libertarian thinkers can be perfect, then, it is hoped that the volumes in

this series come as close as possible to providing a comprehensive

account of the key contributors to this particular tradition.

John Meadowcroft King’s College London


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David HumeChristopher J. Berry

Major Conservative andLibertarian Thinkers

Series Editor: John Meadowcroft Volume 3


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Continuum International Publishing Group The Tower Building 80 Maiden Lane 11 York Road Suite 704 London New York SE1 7NX NY 10038

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Copyright © Christopher J. Berry 2009

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any

means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, orotherwise, without the written permission of the publishers.

ISBN 9780826429803

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

TK TK TKBerry, Christopher J.

David Hume / Christopher J. Berry.p. cm. -- (Major conservative and libertarian thinkers ; v. 3)

Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN-13: 978-0-8264-2980-3 (hardcover : alk. paper)ISBN-10: 0-8264-2980-7 (hardcover : alk. paper)1. Hume, David, 1711-1776. 2. Hume, David,

1711-1776–Political and social views.3. Ethics, Modern. 4. Political science–Philosophy.

I. Title. II. Series.B1498.B47 2009

192–dc22 2008045229

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Contents

Series Editor’s Preface ixAcknowledgments xiii

1 Hume: A Life of Letters 1

2 Hume’s Thought 23

A The Science of Man 24

B Causation 27 C Justice 38

i The articiality of justice 38

ii The rules of justice 45

iii The virtuousness of justice 51

D Government, Legitimacy, and Custom 55

i The need for and role of government 55 ii The critique of contract 59

iii Time and legitimacy 62

iv Custom 66

E Superstition 70

F Commerce and the Rule of Law 74 i The decline of the barons 75

ii The defense of commerce and luxury 78

iii The rule of law and expectation 88

G Liberty and Its Qualications 94


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3 Reception and Inuence 106

A Britain 107 B North America 115

C Europe 118

i France 118

ii Italy 123

iii Germany 124

4 Hume and Conservatism 128

Bibliography 157

Index 173

viii Contents


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Series Editor’s Preface

In this compelling account of the life and thought

of the Scottish Enlightenment philosopher David

Hume, Professor Christopher J. Berry of the Univer-sity of Glasgow writes that Hume was not a conser-

vative and it would be misleading to label him a

libertarian. Such a view clearly begs the question:

why is Hume included in a book series devoted to

Major Conservative and Libertarian Thinkers? Whatare the grounds for placing Hume in the conservative

or libertarian tradition of social and political

thought?

In reality, Hume’s thought may be most effectively

categorized as Humean. That is, in common with a

number of thinkers in this series, he was a strikinglyoriginal thinker whose work dees classication

within standard ideological categories.

As Berry sets out, at the heart of Hume’s thought

was the belief in the uniformity of human nature.

Social institutions such as property and government,language and money, have to be established, within

inescapable environmental constraints, through con-

ventions. These social institutions are not deliberately

designed and constructed, but evolve gradually as an


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unintended consequence of people’s self-interested

actions. Rules of just conduct, for example, are notimposed from above by government, but are estab-

lished gradually through custom and habit where they

facilitate mutually advantageous action. Hume com-

bined this appreciation of society as (what would be

termed today) a spontaneous order with skepticism

towards the ability of human reason to improve uponthose institutions that have evolved spontaneously.

Hume also provided a compelling defense of com-

merce and luxury, which he believed to be civilizing

and improving forces in contrast to the unsustainable

and impoverishing “virtues” of civic republicanism.It is these classic Humean themes of the evolution

of social institutions as an unintended consequence

of the pursuit of self-interest and the importance of

custom and habit in establishing rules of just conduct,

coupled with his defense of commerce and luxury,

that mark Hume’s unique contribution to the con-

servative and libertarian traditions. Hence, Humean

thought may be understood as a combination of

various strands of conservatism, libertarianism, and

liberalism.

This volume makes a crucial contribution to theMajor Conservative and Libertarian Thinkers series

by setting out the thought of one of the most impor-

tant contributors to this tradition; certainly any

account of the conservative and libertarian traditions

x Preface


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would be incomplete without a thorough treatment

of Hume’s contribution. In presenting Hume’sthought in such an accessible and cogent form, the

author has produced an outstanding volume that will

prove indispensable to those relatively unfamiliar

with the work of this important thinker as well as

more advanced scholars.

John Meadowcroft

King’s College London

Preface xi


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Acknowledgments

I would like to thank my former student and colleague,

Craig Smith, for generously putting the opportunity

to write this book my way and to John Meadowcroftfor his willingness to have me on board.

I am grateful to my colleagues in the HINT group

of the Glasgow Politics Department for their com-

ments on a version of Chapter 4. I am also indebted

(again) to Roger Emerson for his comments on anearly draft of Chapter 1.

I have published on Hume elsewhere over a number

of years and I here appropriate, on occasion, some of

my earlier formulations. For the record I have drawn

here from my Social Theory of the Scottish Enlightenment .Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1997.

‘Hume and the Customary Causes of Industry,

Knowledge and Humanity’ in History of Political Economy , 38, 2006, 291–317 (Duke University Press).

‘Hume’s Universalism: The Science of Man and the

Anthropological Point of View’ in British Journal for theHistory of Philosophy . 15, 2007, 529–44 (Taylor andFrancis/British Society for the History of Philosophy).


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‘Hume and Superuous Value (or the Problem with

Epictetus’ Slippers)’ in C. Wennerlind and M. Schabas(eds) David Hume’s Political Economy , 2008, pp. 49–64,(London: Routledge).

Christopher J. Berry

University of Glasgow

xiv Acknowledgments


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1

Hume: A Life of Letters

Hume wrote an autobiography. It might be thoughtthis would be a fundamental thread along which

could be strung a narrative of his life and times. There

are, however, good grounds to be wary of placing too

much reliance on his account of “my own life.” This is

not only because any and every autobiography is to a

greater or lesser extent a “disguised novel” as Clive

James said of his aptly named Unreliable Memoirs (1980)but also because Hume’s account was a deliberately

studied performance that was only to be published

posthumously; it thus has much of the character of an

epitaph as it encapsulates his life-story as “the strug-gling author made good” (Hanley, 2002: 680). Nor is

it “confessional.” Unlike his contemporary Rousseau’s

path-breaking version, Hume is far from displaying

a “portrait in every way true to nature” where the pic-

ture is the unique self (Rousseau, 1954: 17). (As we willsee Hume and Rousseau’s paths eventfully crossed.)

The nearest Hume comes to any self-revelation is the

identication of “his love of literary fame” as “his

ruling passion” (E-Life: xl).


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2 David Hume

My aim in this chapter is to sketch out an outline

of Hume’s life, paying particular attention to theoccasion or circumstances of his signicant works.

It will also be apt to incorporate some remarks on his

relation to his contemporary intellectual world—the

Enlightenment—both in his native Scotland and in

France where he resided on a couple of occasions.

David Home was born on April 26, 1711 in Edin-burgh. “Home” was the dominant spelling of a name

that was common in the southeast of Scotland and

David’s elder brother, John, as did his cousin Henry,

the philosopher and lawyer (who took the legal title

of Lord Kames), retained that form. The name was,however, pronounced “Hume” and David chose to

adapt the spelling of his name to echo the pronuncia-

tion. There is no denitive evidence when this

occurred but his biographers Mossner (1980: 90) and

Graham (2004: 44) date it to his residence in Bristol

in 1734 or perhaps earlier when he left home.

The family home was Ninewells in the parish of

Chirnside close to Berwick-on-Tweed, on the coast at

the England-Scotland border. This was a small estate

and Hume says in his autobiography that the family

was not rich (E-Life: xxxii). His father died in 1713.This meant that his mother was the “head of the

household,” which contained not only the elder

brother but also a younger sister, Katharine, who later

became his housekeeper in his various Edinburgh


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Hume: A Life of Letters 3

houses. Since John would have to stay to run the

estate, and given its limited income, then David wouldhave known from an early age that he would have to

have an occupation. He retrospectively attributes to

himself “being seized very early with a passion for

literature” (E-Life: xxxii–iii). In 1721 he attended

Edinburgh University where he stayed for four years.

Though only 10 this is not a mark of precocity, andeven if it was probably advanced because his brother

was already a student, it was a common practice to

attend as a youngster. Adam Smith, for example,

attended Glasgow when he was 14.

Hume is unforthcoming about his studies, saying onlythat, instead of studying law, the only pursuit to which

he was not averse was “philosophy and general learn-

ing.” While Hume supplies no information, consider-

able endeavor has been spent trying to recreate what

he did in fact study and what impact such study might

have had on his subsequent thought, though the most

recent and thorough account concludes there are “no

grounds to think that Hume caught the philosophical

bug at college” (Stewart, 2005: 25). Edinburgh had only

just (1708) abolished the system of “regents,” whereby

one teacher taught a whole cohort the whole syllabus,and replaced it with professors in distinct disciplines.

We know Hume studied Logic with Drummond, Greek

with Scott, Latin (Humanity) with Dundas, Natural Phi-

losophy with Steuart, and (perhaps) Moral Philosophy


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4 David Hume

with Law. Despite this differentiation the education was

suffused with an edifying mission to inculcate “virtuousliving in a society regulated by religious observance”

(Stewart, 2005: 12).

Hume left University in 1725 (without graduating).

He seemingly began and then abandoned training

for a career as a lawyer. While in his later correspon-

dence Hume reveals knowledge of jurisprudence(which is also apparent from the Treatise of HumanNature published when he was 28), his earliest surviv-ing letter of July 1727 refers to his time (at Ninewells)

spent reading classical philosophy (Cicero) and

poetry (Virgil) rather than legal texts (L: I, 10). It is areasonable inference that it was in this period that

Hume began to immerse himself in the world of

books—his “interests” always remained literary rather

than musical or, more generally, aesthetic (Emerson,

2007). Perhaps as a consequence of this immersion,

and with a legal career foresworn together with the

need to make a living, Hume appears to have had

what is by all accounts a nervous breakdown. There is

a remarkable letter written to an unnamed physician

in 1734 that recounts his activity and state of mind in

the late 1720s. Typically his autobiography merelyalludes to his “health being a little broken by my

ardent application” (E-Life: xxxiii). This “applica-

tion” refers to his studies opening up to him “a new

Scene of Thought” (L: I, 13). He mentions reading


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many books of morality but coming to the view that

the arguments of the classical theorists, like that oftheir natural philosophers, was “entirely hypotheti-

cal” paying no regard to “human Nature, upon which

every moral Conclusion must depend” (L: I, 16).

While in retrospect the germ of the enterprise that

will produce the Treatise can be discerned here, that judgment owes at least something to hindsight. Forhis own part, Hume self-diagnosed that he needed a

“more active Life” and with that intent, abetted by a

recommendation, he resolved on becoming a mer-

chant and in 1734 set off to Bristol.

However, that was not a success and in that same year he departs for France and embarks on work that

will result in the Treatise . In one of the more remark-able coincidences in the history of philosophy he

spent the bulk of his time at La Flèche in Anjou,

where in its Jesuit College Descartes had studied and

the library of which Hume was to use.

Hume returned to Britain in 1737 and began the

process of getting the Treatise published, the rst twoparts (“books”) appearing in 1739, the third in 1740.

He entertained high hopes that his work could, if

taken up, “produce almost a total Alteration in Philos-ophy” (NL: 3). Despite the fact that he deliberately

excised (“castrating . . . its noble Parts”) a section on

miracles as likely to give “too much Offence,” its appar-

ent failure to make an impression left him deeply


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6 David Hume

disappointed. This disappointment stayed with him

and in the Life he characterized its reception as fall-ing “dead-born from the press” (E-Life: xxxiv), which,though perhaps the autobiography’s most famous

phrase, is very likely appropriated from a line of verse

by Alexander Pope (1956: 336). As we will see in

Chapter 3 that was not, even contemporaneously, the

book’s fate, nevertheless the sentiment does reectthe fact that never again did Hume publish a book of

systematic philosophy. The two Enquiries (of Under- standing in 1748, of Morals in 1751) were “essays” and were recyclings, with amendments, of the Treatise ’s

arguments and his other often-regarded philoso-phical masterpiece the Dialogues was only publishedposthumously and, as the title indicates, was nondemo-

nstrative in design. When his own anonymous review

(the Abstract ) of his book failed to excite the readingpublic’s interest, he resolved to adopt the essay form

as the means to engage that interest. Starting with

the publication of Essays Moral and Political in 1741,Hume began a career as a professional man of letters.

Apart from a stint as a Librarian (part time), and

(very briey in 1745–6) a tutor/companion to the

Marquis of Annandale, his only other occupations were as a “secretary” and Judge-Advocate to General

St Clair in 1746, and again in 1748, and then, more

substantially, two and half years (1763–6) working in


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the Embassy in Paris followed by a year as a London

civil servant.Before discussing his literary career and intellectual

context, it is worth mentioning, because of the light

they throw on both of those, the failed attempt to

secure chairs at the Universities of Edinburgh and

Glasgow. University positions in eighteenth-century

Scotland were the subject of patronage and the objectof politicking (Emerson, 2008b). Hume was a candi-

date for the Edinburgh chair in Ethics and Pneumati-

cal Philosophy (moral philosophy) in 1744–5 at a

time when control over the Town Council, which

appointed professors, was the subject of factionalghting. Hume’s unsuccessful candidacy can be

attributed, at least in part, to his being associated with

the “losing side” on this occasion (Emerson, 1994).

In addition to these extrinsic factors, Hume’s own

philosophy was an intrinsically negative factor (Sher,

1990: 106). Hume was alert to this and wrote an

anonymous pamphlet wherein he attempted to dis-

arm his critics who were accusing him of skepticism

and atheism and of “sapping the Foundations of

Morality” (LG: 18). In one of his contemporary let-

ters, repeating the language of the pamphlet, Humeattributed his failure to a “popular Clamour” deliber-

ately raised against him “on account of Scepticism,

Heterodoxy” (L: I, 59). In another letter he refers to


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8 David Hume

his surprise that he was opposed by Francis Hutcheson

(L: I, 58).Hutcheson was professor of moral philosophy at

Glasgow (and during the negotiation over the Edin-

burgh chair was himself offered the post). Hutcheson

was not only a signicant philosopher but is regarded

as a major stimulus to the emergent Scottish Enlight-

enment (Scott, 1966; Campbell, 1982). He was one ofthe authors mentioned by Hume in the Introduction

to the Treatise as “putting the science of man on a newfooting” and Hume sent him the yet to be published

Book 3. One of Hume’s most important letters is his

reply to Hutcheson’s comments (now lost) (L: I, 32–4).Hume notes that Hutcheson has detected in his

writing “a certain Lack of Warmth in the Cause of

Virtue.” In articulating his own position Hume char-

acterizes his own approach as that of an “anatomist,”

while Hutcheson’s is that of a “painter” (a compari-

son he was to repeat in the concluding paragraph

of the Treatise [T 3-3-6.6]). In the letter he goes on todeclare Hutcheson’s reliance of “nal causes” as “unphi-

losophical” and, as far as his own argument is con-

cerned, “wide of my Purpose.” He repeats the key theme

of Book 3 (which will occupy much of Chapter 2) thathe never called justice “unnatural but only articial”

and, in a parting shot, says that in his discussion of

virtue it was Cicero’s Ofces not the Whole Duty of Man (a devotional text) on which he had his “Eye in all my

Reasonings.”


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Hume prior to his failed Edinburgh application had

published two volumes of essays subsequent to theTreatise . These mark his rst bid to gain a wider read-ership or as he himself put it to act “as a Kind of

Resident or Ambassador from the Dominion of

Learning to those of Conversation” (E-EW: 535). This

remark was made in an essay published in the 1742

volume but it was later withdrawn. In fact he withdrewa further three from the dozen that comprised that

edition, as well as three from the 1741 volume. One

feature of the latter was a focus on political matters

and I shall return to that aspect.

By the time Hume’s name had been put forward forthe Professorship of Logic at Glasgow University

(1751–2) he had not only published the An Enquiryconcerning Human Understanding (1748) (the First Enquiry ), three other essays (including “of the Origi-nal Contract”), as well as a couple of pamphlets (True

Account of Archibald Stewart (1747) and the Bellmen’sPetition [1751]) and, during the period of applica-tion, the Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals (theSecond Enquiry ) appeared. The Glasgow chair was heldby Adam Smith but he was moving to that of Moral

Philosophy thus creating the vacancy. In Glasgowappointments were made by the College Corporation

but the Presbytery exercised a right of “enquiry into a

candidate’s morals and orthodoxy” (Emerson, 1994:

15) and political patronage remained a crucial factor.

Hume himself thought, perhaps naively in the light


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10 David Hume

of the earlier application, he might have succeeded

“in spite of the violent and solemn remonstrances ofthe clergy” had the major patron the Duke of Argyle

been supportive (L: I, 164–5). Adam Smith, one of

Hume’s supporters, wrote to a fellow supporter,

William Cullen, admitting that while he “would pre-

fer David Hume to any man for a colleague” yet “the

public would not be of my opinion” and that opinionneeds to be heeded (Smith, 1987: 5). Hume himself

seems not to have been too discountenanced by the

second failure since he was appointed the Advocates

Librarian, almost immediately thereafter.

This episode reveals something of the character ofthe Scottish Enlightenment. This “character” can,

albeit in an imprecise manner, be seen to have a

cultural and an intellectual dimension. Regarding

the former, the Union of the Parliaments meant not

so much that the Scots thereafter had little direct

political power because in practice they were allowed,

via patronage, considerable leeway for the gover-

nance of Scotland which was left in the hands of

“managers.” Crucially, the Union also left the legal

system and the Kirk (Church of Scotland) as distinct

Scottish institutions. When coupled with the remark-able fact that Scotland possessed ve Universities

(compared to England’s two) and, fortied by the

presence of many clubs and societies, this established

a nexus of relations between leading political, legal,


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ecclesiastical, and academic gures. This nexus was

united by its commitment to the Hanoverian succes-sion, and thus resistance to the followers of the claims

of the Stewart lines (Jacobites), who led a series of

rebellions from Scotland before the nal crushing

defeat of “bonnie Prince Charlie’s” forces at Culloden

in 1745. In addition to this shared political allegiance,

these Scottish writers (the “literati”) were united overtwo other issues. In their guise as leaders of the

so-called Moderate party in the Church of Scotland,

they shared an antipathy to Catholicism (linked to

Jacobitism) and also to the Calvinist legacy of the

Kirk. Secondly, the literati were strong advocates ofmeasures designed to lead to the (primarily eco-

nomic) “improvement” of Scotland.

Hume was a prominent member of these clubs,

indeed he had a well-founded reputation for affable

clubbability and he included among his friends

prominent members of the Moderates like Hugh

Blair and the historian William Robertson, who was

both Principal of Edinburgh University and one-time

moderator of the Church of Scotland. Although his

public prole was too contentious for the University

posts, Hume was no pariah as his Librarianship dem-onstrates. One of Hume’s particular roles was to act

as a source of advice on literary style. It was a matter

of some concern for the literati that they would appear

to be different (suspiciously so) from the “polite”


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12 David Hume

norms of Hanoverian England. Alexander Carlyle,

one of the founders with Robertson of the Moderatemovement, remarked in his Autobiography (1910:543):

[T]o every man bred in Scotland the English language

was in some respects a foreign tongue, the precise

value and force of whose words and phrases he didnot understand and therefore was continually endea-

vouring to word his expressions by additional epithets

or circumlocutions which made his writings appear

both stiff and redundant.

There is plenty of supporting evidence for this self- consciousness. This is most evident in a concern to

eradicate “Scotticisms.” Hume himself published a

list of these (see Basker, 1991) and it was said of him

by the eccentric judge and scholar Lord Monboddo

that he died confessing not his sins but his Scotticisms

(Mossner, 1980: 606). His correspondence suppliesmany examples both of him receiving advice as well

as giving it, for example, to Robertson (L: II, 194).

These clubs and societies were also a focus for the

concerns that permeated the intellectual dimension,

as well as being the typical audience for essays of thesort Hume had begun to write (Finlay, 2007: 63).

There were, of courses, differences between the literati

but they subscribed in broad outline to a key Enlight-

enment theme that the achievements of Newton in


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natural science should be emulated in the social

(or moral) sciences. As we will discuss at length inChapter 2 this was the key inspiration for Hume’s

“science of man.” What this Newtonian motif meant

in practice was the endeavor to search for universal

causes governing a range of social phenomena. This

endeavor was coupled with others. In the words of

another inspirational gure, Francis Bacon, a writer, who in Hume’s estimation “pointed out at a distance

the road to true philosophy” (H: II, 112), “knowledge

and human power are synonymous, since the igno-

rance of the cause frustrates the effect” (Bacon, 1853:

383). Crucially this knowledge/power was not justfor its own sake since, for Bacon, the “real and

legitimate goal of the sciences is the endowment of

human life with new inventions and riches” (Bacon,

1853: 416). This practical/utilitarian bent chimed in

not only with the drive to “improvement” (the Hume

estate at Ninewells was “improved”) (Emerson: 2008a)

but also with Hume’s decision to write essays and his

History , in as much as they were designed to inuencecontemporary thinking and policy.

As mentioned above, his rst two volumes of Essays

had a political focus. Hume’s decision was not idio-syncratic: political essay-writing was very much in

vogue. This literature was fervently partisan not only

between the advocates of the two major political

“parties,” the Whigs and the Tories but also within the


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14 David Hume

former there was a further sharp division between

Court and Country factions. Hume aspired to tran-scend partisanship; in Duncan Forbes’s inuential

interpretation he attempted to give the Hanoverian

regime a proper intellectual foundation (Forbes,

1975: x, 136), to get both Whigs and Tories to recog-

nize the character and challenges of the new eco-

nomic world of commerce and move beyondoutmoded dynastic and religious dogmas (Forbes,

1977: 43). Despite this aspiration, Hume’s writings

were still attacked for partisanship. His frustration at

this situation comes out, albeit with rhetorical our-

ish, in a letter of 1764, “some hate me because I amnot a Tory, some because I am not a Whig, some

because I am not a Christian and all because I am

Scotsman” (L: I, 470).

In these early volumes he included a couple of essays

on “parties” and a couple more on Parliament. His

basic aim was to distil opposed arguments and estab-

lish a judicious assessment of their relative strengths

and weaknesses. These essays were contributions to

contemporary debate and indeed his work was incor-

porated within it, for example, his “Whether the British

Government inclines more to Absolute Monarchy ora Republic” (1741) was reprinted in the Craftsman , an“opposition” weekly in the year of its publication

(Forbes, 1975: 211). Unlike those essays that he labeled

“frivolous” and dropped from his later editions, he


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retained these overtly political pieces. The one excep-

tion was “A Character of Sir Robert Walpole” pub-lished in the 1742 volume just before Walpole in fact

resigned. This timing caused Hume rst (1748) to

turn it into a footnote to another essay (“That Politics

may be reduced to a Science”) and then to omit

entirely from 1770.

This deliberate intent to comment on contemporaryevents has tended to get lost, as later commentators

detach them from this context and treat them rather

as theoretical disquisitions. These are, of course, not

mutually exclusive endeavors and I will in Chapter 2

cite these essays without particular regard to the cir-cumstances of their production. Perhaps the most tell-

ing illustration of this detachment is the best known of

all Hume’s Essays, “Of the Original Contract” (1748).

Standardly, and rightly, read as a near fatal blow to the

pretensions of a version of contractarian political

thinking it was designed by Hume as a companion to

the essay “Of Passive Obedience.” As he explained in a

contemporary letter, they were written to replace those

discarded from the 1741–2 volumes and were destined

to be “more instructive” with the Contract essay aimed

against the “System of the Whigs” and the other againstthe “System of the Tories” (L: I, 112). The fact that the

Contract essay was in this sense deliberately one-sided

has not been deemed relevant in almost all the volumi-

nous commentary that it as generated.


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16 David Hume

The other signicant collection of Essays was that

titled Political Discourses (1752). In Hume’s own esti-mation this was the only one of his works that was“successful on rst publication” (as we will note in

Chapter 3 they had considerable success in France

and Italy) (E-Life: xxxvi). The bulk of these were on

“economic” topics like “Of Taxes” and “Of Money”

and were self-consciously “intellectual” in that Humeprefaced the rst essay in the collection (“Of Com-

merce”) with a defense of “philosophers” who attend

to the “general course of things” (E-Com: 254). The

arguments in this collection will feature prominently

in Chapter 2. But, as with the “political” essays, thesecan be seen to possess a dual focus. Hence, for exam-

ple, Hume’s articulation therein of a theory of money

has been seen to pregure much later speculation

(Vickers, 1960; Wennerlind, 2005) and his defense of

luxury has been identied as a signicant defense of

a commercial economy (Berry, 1994, 2008). However,

the date of their publication and thrust of their

argument has also been seen as a contribution to a

lively debate in Scotland on the policy toward the

Highlands after the failure of the 1745 Jacobite rebel-

lion (Caffentzis, 2005; Emerson, 2008) and the roleto be played by free trade (Hont, 1983, 2008).

On his appointment as Advocates Librarian, Hume

began in earnest his last major work, The History ofGreat Britain. Aside from the ever-present concern


32/191


with generating income and fame, the aim in writing

the History was to provide a less partial account thanthose currently available (see L: I, 170, 179). What-ever his intent, his readers did not see it that way—

“I was assailed by one cry of reproach, disapprobation

and even detestation” (E-Life: xxxvii). As he acknowl-

edged in his correspondence it was perhaps a mistake

to publish the rst volumes separately (L: I, 218). Therst (published 1754) dealt with the reigns of James

I and Charles I, which because “he had presumed

to shed a generous tear for the fate” of the latter

meant he was identied as Tory, the second (1756)

dealt with the period from Charles’ death to 1688, which he himself thought would be judged more

favorably by Whigs. He summed up his own position

as his view “of things more conformable to Whig prin-

ciples” while his “representation of persons to Tory

prejudices” (L: I, 237). Perhaps because of its contro-

versy the volumes sold well and Hume decided to

extend its range (backward). The now titled Historyof England (covering the Tudor period) appeared in1759 and a volume covering the time from the

Saxons appeared in 1762. By the time of the later vol-

umes Hume was able to earn £1,400 for the sale of theauthor’s rights to the publisher. He could gain what

was a very substantial sum because of the great popu-

larity of history as a genre—“I believe this is the his-

torical Age and this the historical Nation” (L: II, 230).


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18 David Hume

For example, from extant records of borrowings from

a library in Bristol between 1773 and 1784, Hume’sHistory was the fourth most borrowed book andRobertson’s Charles V the seventh most popular(Kaufman, 1969: 31).

Hume’s only serious break from the life as a profes-

sional writer (there were, for example, six editions of

his Essays after 1752) was a period in the mid-1760sspent working in the British Embassy in Paris followed

by a year in London as a civil servant. In addition to

being presented to the Royal Court at Versailles (L: I,

414), while in Paris he met many signicant members

of the French Enlightenment. His works were rapidlytranslated and, in many respects, he was lionized—

“they consider me one of the greatest geniuses in the

world” (L: I, 410). Hume for his part did consider

some of the company “really great men” (L: I, 411),

mentioning among those he liked best Diderot,

D’alembert, Buffon, and Helvetius (L: I, 419). They

saw in him a fellow ally against religious superstition

and clerical presumption, though perhaps because

that suited their prejudices (one equivocal anecdote

has Hume declaring he has never met any atheists

only to be told by his host, Baron d’Holbach, thatall 18 of his fellow-diners were [Kors, 1976: 41–2]).

His correspondence reveals little evidence of signi-

cant intellectual debate/argument but that it occu-

rred seems inferable from the impact of his work


34/191


(see Chapter 3). One exception is correspondence

with Turgot, wherein he expresses some skepticismabout Turgot’s hope of progress to perfection (L: II,

180 [Turgot, 1973: 41–59]). In this reservation Hume

reects a common theme that distinguishes the

French from the Scottish Enlightenment. The Scottish

variant had a far more circumspect of the view of the

scope of reason to effect change, with a correspon-dent acknowledgment of the power that habit and

custom play in human behavior plus a sensitivity to

the supposed fact that much “progress” was the unin-

tended consequence of more immediate concerns

(Berry, 1997).Hume’s engagement with French intellectuals is

overshadowed with his dealings with one individual—

Jean Jacques Rousseau. These dealings started amica-

bly but ended in bitter disagreement (Edmonds and

Eidenow, 2000). They rst came into contact in 1762

courtesy of a request from Hume’s most frequent

French correspondent, the Comtesse de Boufeurs,

to help Rousseau because he was being persecuted

for the unchristian components of his just published

Emile . Hume wrote to Rousseau offering him assis-

tance to move to Britain. In this letter Hume declaredRousseau to be “the Person I most revere, both for

the Force of your Genius and the Greatness of

your Mind” (L: I, 364). And while, when writing to

Boufeurs in the following year he comments on


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20 David Hume

Rousseau’s literary “extravagance,” he still praises him

and observes that Rousseau “with his usual dignity”had refused Hume’s offer (L: I, 372–3). However, in

1765 by which time they had met, Rousseau had

accepted Hume’s offer. He came to England and,

after much searching, Hume arranged accommoda-

tion for him in Derbyshire and obtained a pension

from the king. Thereafter the relationship went rap-idly downhill. Hume wrote lengthy justicatory letters

to friends and acquaintances. Rousseau now becomes

a “human creature” in whom “never was the so much

Wickedness and Madness combined” (L: II, 80), a

man given to “monstrous Ingratitude” who must passas a “Lyar and Calumniator” (L: II, 54). Indeed, his

letters of the period are full of contempt (although

the Life omits all reference to the episode). What occa-sioned this vituperation was, in Hume’s judgment,

Rousseau’s spurning of his purported assistance and

accusing him of scheming to dishonor him (see L: II,

384). This disagreement had become public knowl-

edge and to Hume’s ostensible discomfort (“I have

never consented to anything with greater reluctance

in my life” [L: II, 108]) his French friends published

the correspondence, which was translated into Eng-lish as a pamphlet (A Concise and Genuine Account of the Dispute between Mr Hume and Mr Rousseau [1765]).

Hume died on August 25, 1776 at his house in the

New Town of Edinburgh. His death was not sudden;


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in his autobiography he notes that in spring of 1775

he was “struck with a disorder in my bowels” whichthough at rst thought innocuous he now observes

that it has become “mortal and incurable” (the Life isdated April 18) (E-Life: xl). In several ways Hume’s

attitude to his demise sums up his character. When it

became obvious to himself, and others, that he was

dying it became an object of morbid curiosity howthis renownedly irreligious man would face up to his

own mortality. The most infamous of these occasions

is a visit to Hume by James Boswell who (in his own

report) asked Hume whether the thought of his

annihilation never gave him uneasiness. Hume’sunperturbed denial in fact perturbed Boswell (Fieser,

2003: I, 287; Baier, 2006). Two other accounts by

Hume’s friends convey his sanguine temperament.

William Cullen, writing to John Hunter, reports that a

few days before his death that Hume, who had been

reading the Roman essayist Lucian, imagined what

plea he might make to stay on earth and stated “he

had been very busily employed in making his country-

men wiser and particularly in delivering them from

the Christian superstition but that he had not yet

completed that great work” (Fieser, 2003: I, 292).Finally, Adam Smith, who had declined the offer to

be Hume’s executor and more particularly to publish

the Dialogues on Natural Religion , wrote to the pub-lisher William Strahan of “our most excellent and


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22 David Hume

never-to-be-forgotten friend.” Hume, he elaborated,

was a man of “extreme gentleness” who expresseda “genuine effusion of good nature and good humour,

tempered with delicacy and modesty and without

even the slightest tincture of malignity,” and who

exhibited a “gaiety of temper” that accompanied by

“the most extensive learning, the greatest depth of

thought and a capacity in every respect the most com-prehensive.” In sum, wrote Smith, “upon the whole

I have always considered him . . . as approaching as

nearly to the idea of a perfectly wise and virtuous

man, as perhaps the nature of human frailty will

admit” (see L: II, 452).


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2

Hume’s Thought

Hume is not a conservative. By that I do not mean

that he does not regard habit and custom, at both an

individual and social level, as necessary and valuable

nor that he is not critical of aspects of rationalistic

individualism. Both of these are indeed key ingredi-

ents in his philosophy and I will explore them. But what I do mean, and here I am in sympathy with John

B. Stewart’s argument (1992 and see also McArthur,

2007), is that his philosophy embraces his under-

standing of the ndings and implications of modern

science and, moreover, his conviction that philosophy

consequently has to be put on a “new footing” results

in a critique of traditional understandings of morals,

economics, politics and, perhaps above all, religion.

In as much as a new conception of freedom is a central

ingredient in that critique then he is in a signicant,

if qualied way, a “liberal,” but it would be misleadingto pin the label “libertarian” upon him.

This discussion is organized into seven sections as

follows: the rst two sections deal with Hume’s philoso-

phical framework, particularly with his notion of


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24 David Hume

causation and its uniform applicability; Section C

deals with his most important political argument, thearticiality of justice, leading in Section D to his dis-

cussion of government and key role played by custom

and habit; Section E deals with his forthright account

superstition and Section F with his defense of com-

mercial society; the nal section briey assesses the

nature and extent of Hume’s liberalism and presagesthe lengthier treatment of his place in conservative

thought in Chapter 4.

A The Science of Man

We can start at the beginning. In the Introduction to

the Treatise, his rst work, Hume declares it “evident”that all sciences relate more or less to human nature

and they are thus “in some measure dependent on

the science of man.” Using a striking military meta-

phor, he states that his aim is “instead of taking now

and then a castle or village on the frontier to march

up directly to the capital or centre of these sciences,

to human nature itself.” His conviction is that an

explanation of the “principles of human nature,” or

the formulation of “the science of man,” is the “onlysolid foundation” for a “compleat system of the sci-

ences” (T Introd.4, 6). Among the sciences men-

tioned by Hume is politics, which, along with logic,

morals, and criticism, has a “close and intimate” con-

nection with human nature (T Introd.5) To give


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Hume’s Thought 25

human nature such a central role was a commonplace

but, as his metaphor suggests, Hume did not conceivehis project as merely reproducing a received system

but rather the “foundation” of his complete system

was “almost entirely new.”

The linchpin of this new system is the “science of

man” and to a large extent this chapter is an elabora-

tion of, and commentary upon, that key notion. Thereremains more initial instruction to be gained from

the Introduction. The novel foundation, as identied

in the subtitle to the Treatise , and repeated in theIntroduction, is the experimental method. This

method, he believes, has borne striking and decisivefruit in “natural philosophy.” Though no names are

given, Newton is undeniably the inspiration. The

likely explanation for this absence of an explicit refer-

ence is Hume’s concern to distance himself from the

directly Providentialist use made of Newton by many

of his contemporaries, as, for example, by George

Turnbull in his exactly contemporaneous Principles ofMoral Philosophy . A pen-portrait in the History none-theless gives an accurate deception of Hume’s

appreciation, where Newton is described as the “great-

est and rarest genius that ever arose for the ornamentand instruction of the species” (H: III, 780). The

Newtonian inspiration takes his cue from Newton

himself, who in his Optics , remarked that if throughpursuit of his method natural philosophy becomes

perfected so, in like fashion, “the bounds of Moral


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26 David Hume

Philosophy will be also enlarged” (1953: 179, Qn. 31).

Hume conceives of himself, following in the footstepsof Shaftesbury, Mandeville, Hutcheson, Butler, and

unspecied others in applying this method to “moral

subjects.” Since “moral” here derives etymologically

from mores or social customs then we can reasonablyparaphrase that Hume is set on what we would call

“social science.”There are three crucial aspects of this science. First,

it is observational—carefully and exactly attending to

experience. Second, in an obvious echo of Newton,

this should not be mere cataloguing but should

attempt to trace these observational “experiments” touniversal principles, that is, “explaining all effects

from the simplest and fewest causes.” Moreover, and

still in Newtonian vein, these attempts should not “go

beyond experience” and this, importantly, imposes

the self-denying ordinance that it is “presumptuous

and chimerical” to attempt to “discover the ultimate

original qualities of human nature” (T Introd.8).

Third, Hume, in recognition that moral subjects are

less amenable to experiment than natural ones,

acknowledges that the cautious observations of

human life need to be “judiciously collected andcompar’d” but if that is done then certitude in its

conclusions can be achieved and, with that, the sci-

ence can be the most useful. (T Introd.10).

The Treatise is divided into three books—Of theUnderstanding, Of the Passions (published together


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Hume’s Thought 27

in 1739) and Of Morals (published in 1740). While

the last of these is our primary concern the work isconceived as a unity and, true to that conception, the

rst two books bear signicantly on his social philoso-

phy. Nowhere is this signicance more telling than in

the analysis of causation that is a central theme of

Book 1. Because of its crucial importance I start my

account of Hume’s thought with it.

B Causation

My guiding principle in what has necessarily has to be

the briefest outline of his argument is how Hume’sanalysis ts into, or informs, his social philosophy.

Hume accepts Locke’s argument that the principle of

innate ideas is false (T 1-3-14.10), and its consequence

that “knowledge” must come from experience. Expe-

rience comes in the form of “perceptions” and Hume

divides these into “impressions” (sensations, passions)and “ideas” (thoughts) (T 1-1-1.1). The latter, as their

faint image, succeed the former (T 1-1-1.8); a princi-

ple that Hume identies as the rst he has established

in “the science of human nature” (7). Simple ideas

can be made complex by the imagination, so that theidea of a unicorn can be formed although, of course,

one has never been perceived. However, the imagina-

tion is not ckle in its operations; Hume believes that

it is guided by “some universal principles which ren-

der it, in some measure, uniform with itself in all


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28 David Hume

times and places.” There is a “gentle force,” an “asso-

ciating quality,” whereby simple ideas regularly fallinto complex ones (T 1-1-4.1). Unlike Locke (1854: I,

531–41), Hume treats the “association of ideas” posi-

tively, indeed he regards this as one of his major dis-

coveries (TA 35). There are three principles of

association—resemblance, contiguity of time and

place, and cause and effect (T 1-1-4.1). While strictly a priori (i.e. outside experience) “any-

thing may be the cause of anything” (T 1-4-5.32), the

world appears in experience as orderly and not

capricious; it exhibits regularity as one set of causes is

consistently and persistently followed by one set ofeffects. Accordingly it is to experience that this order

and regularity must be traced. In summary,

all those objects, of which we call the one cause andthe other effect consider’d in themselves are as dis-

tinct and separate from each other as any two thingsin nature, nor can we ever, by the most accurate

survey of them, infer the existence of one from that of

the other. ’Tis only from experience and observation

of their constant union that we are able to form this

inference; and even after all, the inference is nothing

but the effects of custom on the imagination. (T 2-3-1.16 cf. T1-3-8.12)

Hume’s most famous example is the impact of a mov-

ing billiard ball upon a stationary one (TA 9). Upon


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Hume’s Thought 29

impact the latter ball moves and this seems an obvi-

ous case of causation. But since only a sequence ofmovements of balls is perceived why is it “obvious”

that this is indeed a causal sequence? Hume analyzes

the process and identies three elements—contiguity

(the rst ball is observed to hit the second), priority

(the second was static until seen to be hit by the rst

and then it was observed to move) and “constantunion” or conjunction. There is nothing else. There

is no other source of knowledge about causation avail-

able to us; in particular (recall the rst of the three

aspects of the science of man) we can know nothing

of any supposed causal power or force (TA 26 cf. U7.21). Of the three elements Hume identies the

third is crucial, recall now the third aspect of the

science—the need to collect and compare. It is only

because every time we have perceived a collision of

balls the same sequence occurred that we can prop-

erly say the movement of the second ball has been

caused by the impact of the rst. The rst two elementsalone are insufcient—I might put a cross on my

ballot paper in a voting booth and the booth catches

re. As a discrete, one-off sequence this is akin to the

billiard balls; it is, however, not causal because eachtime I vote the booth does not blaze, there is no con-

stancy in the conjunction.

What this means for Hume is that we attribute causal

relations because we habitually associate phenomena.


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30 David Hume

We are “determined by custom” (TA 15) to expect or

believe that the second ball’s movement was causedby the impact upon it of the rst ball. We expect, that

is to say, that “like objects placed in like circumstances

will always produce like effects” (T 1-3-8.14). In virtue

of this constancy we can predict that the second static

ball will move when hit by the rst ball in motion.There is an evident programmatic aspect implicithere; recall once more that the science of man is of

“superior utility” (T Introd.10). If we know/can pre-

dict that a set of effects will follow from a certain set

of causes then we can act accordingly—I want hot

water therefore I have to heat it. (Recollect fromChapter 1 Bacon’s dictum that “knowledge of causes

is power.”) The prediction is the product of our belief

that “nature will continue uniformly the same” (TA

13). Here ultimately lies the order we experience; an

order that is “nothing but the effects of custom on

imagination.” So it is that Hume can claim that

custom is the “guide of human life” and “the cement

of the universe” (TA 16, 35). (The extent to which

these claims underwrite a conservative reading of

Hume’s philosophy will be taken up later.)

These principles of causation apply universally. Theyare not restricted to “natural” phenomena like ballis-

tics; they also apply to the workings of the mind and to

the interactions of social life. This extension is indeed

Hume’s basic purpose in the Treatise . Perhaps the mostimportant consequence of Hume’s commitment to a


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Hume’s Thought 31

“science of man” is the conviction that causal analysis

must apply to “moral subjects.” The essence of Hume’sposition can be best captured in one of his examples

(one he uses on two separate occasions, which strongly

suggests that he himself thought it telling). The exam-

ple is a case where “natural and moral evidence

cement together” such that they are “of the same

nature and deriv’d from the same principles” (T 2-3-1.17, U 8.19). He presents the predicament of a pris-

oner in jail. The individual has “neither money nor

interest” and thus escape is impossible due as equally

to the “obstinacy of the gaoler” as it is to the “walls

and bars with which he is surrounded.” Experiencehas taught that human physical strength cannot

destroy stone walls (natural evidence, which is why

prisons are constructed of stone not paper) and that

deprived of the means to bribe jailers the latters’

interests are bound to their custodial role (moral

evidence). In both cases a series of constant conjunc-

tions prevails.

It is the presence of this constancy that enables

Hume to believe that “moral subjects” are amenable

to causal explanation and it is this explanation that

the “science of man” is primed to provide. Humenotes how this belief runs through the whole of social

life in the conduct of war, commerce, economy, and

so on not excluding politics, where, for example, he

cites a prince “who imposes a tax upon his subjects

expects their compliance” (T 2-3-1.15). I will pick up


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32 David Hume

the reference to “expectation” later but rst want to

explore a signicant consequence of this position,namely, a commitment to “determinism.”

This comes out clearly in his treatment of “liberty

and necessity” in both the Treatise and First Enquiry .The key is a commitment to the uniformity of human

nature. The latter text supplies perhaps the clearest

expression. He asserts that “it is universally acknowl-edged that there is a great uniformity among the

actions of men, in all nations and ages, and that

human nature remains still the same in its principles

and operations” so that it now follows that

history informs us of nothing new or strange in this

particular. Its chief use is only to discover the constant

and universal principles of human nature by showing

men in all varieties of circumstances and situations

and furnishing us with materials from which we may

form our observations and become acquainted withthe regular springs of human action and behaviour.

(U 8.7)

Hume is quite explicit that these “materials” provided

by the historical record are “collections of experi-

ments” that enable the “moral philosopher” to x “theprinciples of his science” just like “the natural philoso-

pher becomes acquainted with the nature of plants

[etc.] . . . by the experiments which he forms concern-

ing them.” These “principles” are the “regular springs”


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Hume’s Thought 33

of human behavior and these themselves are generi-

cally the “passions.” In this passage he specicallyidenties ambition, avarice, self-love, vanity, friend-

ship, generosity, and public spirit.

These operate regardless of particular social con-

text (Hume adopts what I elsewhere have labeled a

“non-contextualist” theory [Berry, 1982, 1986]). Of

course there are differences and variations but thecomprehension of these is still founded on knowl-

edge of constant uniformity. In a metaphor employed

in “A Dialogue,” included within the Second Enquiry,he says that the difference in the courses of the Rhine

and Rhone rivers is caused by the different inclina-tions of the ground but both rivers have their source

in the same mountains and their current is actuated

by the same principle of gravity (MD 26). By the same

token, all human behavior, even if it has a “local”

character, is explicable because it is governed by regu-

lar springs that have uniform effects. This is why there

can be a science of human nature (Man); human

behavior necessarily exhibits certain noncontextual

uniformities. Humans do not act or behave in such a

way that they can only be understood parochially.

It would be contrary to the rst Newtonian rule ofphilosophizing if their local behavior could not be

subsumed under, and explained by, a few simple

causes but had, rather, to be accounted for in its own

strictly noncomparable terms, where (as he puts it)


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34 David Hume

“every experiment” was “irregular and anonymous”

(U 8.9).It is important to note that this argument is not just

a methodological rule of thumb or necessary presup-

position to make any historical knowledge possible

(Walsh, 1975; Pompa, 1990); it is also a normative or

judgmental yardstick. An example of that dimension

is when he says of a traveler’s report that he had visited a country where the inhabitants knew nothing

of “avarice, ambition or revenge” and knew “no plea-

sure but friendship, generosity and public spirit” that

“we should immediately” judge the report false as

we would if it talked of seeing centaurs and dragons(M 8.8).

Causation thus applies universally and, strictly speak-

ing, there are no “chance” events, for these are only

the effect of “secret and conceal’d causes” (T 1-3-

12.1). But Hume nonetheless distinguishes between

two sorts of causation—physical and moral. This is

most openly done in his essay “Of National Charac-

ters” (1748). This essay is essentially a polemic. Its

argumentative thrust is that moral causes are the effec-

tive explanation for national character, while physical

causes fail in that task. The latter he denes as

those qualities of the air and climate, which are sup-

posed to work insensibly on the temper, by altering the

tone of the body and giving a particular complexion,


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Hume’s Thought 35

which, though reection and reason may sometimes

overcome it, will yet prevail among the generality ofmankind, and have an inuence on their manners.

(E-NC: 198)

He denes moral causes as “all circumstances which

are tted to work on the mind as motives or reasons,

and which render a peculiar set of manners habitual

to us” (E-NC: 198). As with the term “moral subjects,”

“moral” here thus means pertaining to customs.

If we compare the denitions, we can identify where

the crucial difference lies. Physical causes work “insen-

sibly” on the “temper” by way of the “body”; hence ina later essay (1752) (E-PAN: 378–9) he can also call

physiological aging and disease physical causes. Moral

causes work on the “mind” as a “motive” by making a

set of manners “habitual.” Though the difference is

crucial it is one of degree, not kind, a difference

between hard and soft determinism (Berry, 1997:

chapter 4). The former is most famously associated

with Montesquieu’s analysis in De l’Esprit des Lois(1748). Physical causation operates directly on the

body, as a mere automatic reex, as when in Montes-

quieu’s experiment, the bers on a sheep’s tonguecontract in response to being frozen (1961: I, 241).

Hume’s support for moral causes is an expression of

“soft” determinism, because it operates through the

“mind” and allows for exible response. But it is still


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36 David Hume

deterministic, because the way the various circum-

stances that constitute moral causes operate is toestablish a set of motives or reasons that “render a

peculiar set of manners habitual” or, as he says explic-

itly in the next paragraph, “the manners of individu-

als are frequently determined by these [moral] causes”(E-NC: 198, my emphasis).

This last point should not be misunderstood. For allthe weight Hume attaches to the forces of socializa-

tion (see below), he never claims that any particular

individual cannot escape or be exceptional (he gives

the poet Homer as an example [E-AS: 114]). But such

exceptions are allowed for by Hume when he insertsthe adverb “frequently” before “determined” in the

quotation above. Nonetheless there is a persistent

strand of anti-individualism in his thought. This comes

out in, for example, his explanation for social change—

like the rise of the commons, the establishment of lib-

erty or growth of commerce (see Section F).

If we return to these moral causes we nd Hume

identies the following: “nature of government, the

revolutions of public affairs, the plenty or penury in

which the people live, the situation of the nation with

regard to its neighbours” (E-NC: 198). Of these, heinvokes “government” most frequently. Generally, dif-

ferences of manners track differences in government

such as, pertinently, the absence of liberal arts in an

oppressive government (E-AS: 115). The second most


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Hume’s Thought 37

common factor is close communication, with Jews

given as an example (E-NC: 205). In practice thesetwo commonest factors are closely allied. One of the

reasons why government is so causally effective is that

when people are politically united, they interact fre-

quently over matters such as government itself,

defense, and commerce. This frequency or repetitive-

ness, abetted by the same language, means a people“must acquire a resemblance in their manners” (E-NC:203, my emphasis).

These manners, or “the habits and way of living of

the people” (E-Int: 298 cf E-Mon: 290, 294), will differ

but, as we have seen, not in so profound a way that would preclude scientic explanation, for if you want

to know “the sentiments, inclinations and course of

life of the Greek and Romans” then you can study

with condence (“you cannot be much mistaken”)

the French and English (M 8.7). The explanation for

the difference is put down to socialization because it is

“the great force of custom and education which

mould[s] the human mind from its infancy and

form[s] it into a xed and established character”

(U 8.11). The reference to “infancy” recurs in “Of

National Characters” where he claims (glossing moralcausation) “whatever it be that forms the manners of

one generation, the next must imbibe a deeper tinc-

ture of the same dye; men being more susceptible of

all impressions during infancy, and retaining these


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38 David Hume

impressions as long as they remain in the world”

(E-NC: 203). Underpinning this is a philosophicalphysiology, according to which the minds of children

are “tender,” so that “customs and habits” are able to

“fashion them by degrees” for social life (T 3-2-2.4)

(Berry, 2006: 304).

It is a central tenet of Hume’s social philosophy that

humans do indeed have to be “fashioned” for society.I now turn to that philosophy.

C Justice

i The articiality of justiceThe crux of Hume’s argument is that justice is an

articial virtue. From Plato through to the great sys-

tems of Natural Law justice had been thought to be

not a matter of artice or convention but “natural”—

it was part of human nature to act justly. Hume, how-

ever, is careful to spell out what it is that he is afrming

and what it is that he is here denying. He does not

dispute that “no principle of the human mind is more

natural than a sense of virtue” and, given Hume

regards justice as a virtue, then it partakes of that

“naturalness.” He also observes that since humans arean “inventive species” then where an invention is

“obvious and absolutely necessary” then it can be

treated as “natural as any thing that proceeds imme-

diately from original principles.” This indeed is


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Hume’s Thought 39

exactly what Hume does want to claim. He goes

further. Though justice is articial it is not “arbitrary”and, on that basis, he even declares that it is not

improper to call the rules of justice “laws of nature, if

by natural we understand what is common to any

species, or even if we conne it to mean what is insep-

arable from the species” (T 3-2-1.19).

A signicant clue to the meaning of artice is sup-plied by the way Hume sets up his discussion. He

opens by comparing the situation of humans to that

of other animals:

Of all the animals . . . there is none towards whom

nature seems at rst sight to have exercis’d more cru-

elty than towards man, in the numberless wants and

necessities with which she has loaded him and in the

slender means which she affords to the relieving of

these necessities. In other creatures these two particu-

lars generally compensate each other. (T 3-2-2.2)

He then proceeds to elaborate upon this “compensa-

tion” with references to lions, sheep, and oxen and, in

contrast, he reafrms that an individual human expe-

riences “in its greatest perfection” an “unnatural con-

junction of inrmity and necessity” (T 3-2-2.2). To deal with this conjunction humans need society. The root

of this need (“the rst and original principle of human

society”) is “the natural appetite between the sexes”

(T 3-2-2.4). Clearly there is nothing uniquely human


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40 David Hume

in the possession of this “appetite” but, for Hume, in

implicit contrast to the natural facts about sheep andother animals, the “circumstances of human nature,”

in particular the selshness in “our natural temper,”

make its operation insufcient. This is compounded

by the incommodiousness of “outward circumstances”

with the consequence that human social/group life is

naturally unstable.This instability thus arises “necessarily” out of the

concurrence of two facts: it is a uniform fact of

human nature that humans have only a “limited” or

“conn’d generosity” and that, in fact, “external

objects” are scarce relative to the desire for them(T 3-2-2.16). (These constitute what the twentieth

century political philosopher, John Rawls [1972], in

an explicit acknowledgement of Hume, calls the

“circumstances of justice.”) The only remedy to this

instability is an articially or conventionally induced

stability. This is what justice provides. Hume is

emphatic: “without justice society must immediately

dissolve” (T 3-2-2.22 cf. M 3.38). Not being provided

by nature with ready-made solutions, and suffering

from that “unnatural conjunction of inrmity and

necessity,” humans themselves have had to come up with their own answers in order to make social life

possible (T 3-2-6.1). They have had to “invent” a solu-

tion. Justice is the outcome but since it arises out of

the ineluctable juxtaposition of scarcity and limited


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Hume’s Thought 41

generosity then it is inseparable from the human

species.Hume’s account of how this inventive construction

of an articial remedy takes place is sketchy. Once

humans develop beyond familial groupings (bonded

by sexual appetite and more particularly by parental

affection) they realize (“become sensible of”) the

necessity to cooperate to remedy their natural disadvantages (T 3-2-2.9) or what Hume calls (employing a

phrase of Locke’s [1963]) “inconveniencies” (T 3-2-

2.3). He itemizes three: insufcient individual capac-

ity or power to meet needs, inability to specialize and

thus be forced to “make do” when meeting the needsand basic vulnerability to any small change of fortune.

“Society” is the remedy because it provides respec-

tively “additional force, ability and security.”

For “society” to accomplish this we know that

humans have to invent justice. Hume must account

for this in a way consonant with the science of man;

most pointedly it must be in line with the “natural-

ism” with which his account has proceeded thus far.

Hence there is no room for supernatural (divine)

intervention—for Hume that would be “arbitrary.”

What he comes up with is that humans contrive theremedy by restraining their passions (their original

inclinations) by artfully creating conventions that are

themselves the invention of their passions (T 3-2-2.9,

T 3-2-6.1). In this way, as we shall see, the artice of


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42 David Hume

property establishes stability of possession by restrain-

ing “the heedless and impetuous movement” of thepassion to acquire goods for ourselves (family and

friends) but is itself the “alteration” of the “direction”

of that passion (T 3-2-2.13; T 3-2-5.9). Humans from

their “early education in society” have “observ’d” the

disadvantages that come from instability of posses-

sions (T 3-2-2.9) and “on the least reection” it is“evident” that the “passion is much better satisfy’d by

its restraint than by its liberty” (T 3-2-2.13). Clearly

this is not in any strict sense an “observation.” What

Hume has done is make inferences from his “scien-

tic” analysis of human nature (human motives orpassions). At best this is susceptible to a social Darwin-

ian explanation. Those groups that developed the

appropriate remedial conventions were more success-

ful and survived to pass them on, through socializa-

tion, to their young.

In what then, for Hume, does justice consist? It

comprises rules. Hume identies three —stability of

possession, its transfer by consent and promise-keep-

ing (T 3-2-6.1). Before turning, in the next subsec-

tion, to the content of these rules, we need to heed

Hume’s careful account of how these rules/agree-ments/conventions emerged. (He needs to do this in

part because, as we shall see, he is savagely critical of

Contract theory.) The conventions of justice are the

effect of mutual agreement which when known to the


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Hume’s Thought 43

participants “produce[s] a suitable resolution and

behaviour.” Hume provides the example of “two men who pull the oars of a boat do it by agreement or

convention though they have never given promises

to each other.” He then generalizes this principle to

afrm that it is through the operation of this same

principle that “gradually” and “by slow progression”

languages are formed and gold becomes the measureof exchange (T 3-2-2.10).

These rules have two important characteristics and it

is here where the link between Hume’s analysis of jus-

tice and commercial society is forged (see Section F).

These rules are both general and inexible. We cansee here a clear connection between Hume’s episte-

mology and his political and moral philosophy. The

very coherence of the world (the cement of the

universe) depended upon extending through habit

the experience of one case to another. General rules

are formed on the basis of expecting past occurrences

to continue (T 2-2-5.13). They are indispensable;

indeed Hume regards it as a truth about human

nature that we “are mightily addicted to general rules”

(T 3-2-9.3).

As we have seen, in the case of justice these rulesare articial. Humans impose them upon themselves

to establish order but to attain that end necessitates

“strict observance” of the three “laws” (T 3-2-6.1);

they need to be “unchangeable by spite and favour,


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44 David Hume

and by particular views of private or public interest”

(T 3-2-6.9). Justice has to be “strict”; rules have to beunchangeable or inexible so that there can be pre-

dictability and thence social coherence. When that is

established then individuals can act “in expectation

that others are to perform the like” (T 3-2-2.22). Such

expectations, built up through “repeated experi-

ence,” are self-supporting. This was how languagesand money came to be established because

this experience assures us still more that the sense of

interest has become common to all our fellows and

gives us a condence of the future regularity of their con-

duct. And ’tis only on the expectation of this, that ourmoderation and abstinence are founded. (T 3-2-2.10,

my emphases)

More particularly, the rules of justice have to be

inexible because they provide the background sta-

bility to enable this “condence” to grow and these“expectations” to be entertained. And this inexibil-

ity is necessary because the temptation to relax the

rules is strong. He cites the case of miser who justly

receives a great fortune. He admits that a “single act”

of justice like this may “in itself be prejudicial to soci-ety” (the money could have done more good else-

where) but, nonetheless, the “whole plan or scheme”

is “absolutely requisite” (T 3-2-2.22). If an exception

is made in one case, if the rules are made exible or

made to forfeit their generality, then justice in the


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Hume’s Thought 45

form of expectations that “everyone will perform the

like” will break down. Hume counsels against evaluat-ing single transactions as unjust if they seem clearly

contrary to the public interest (as when a miser justly

inherits a fortune). On the contrary what needs to be

considered is the “general point of view,” from which

perspective that “whole plan or scheme” can be appre-

ciated (T 3-2-2.22). In an unremarkable way this givesa “conservative” cast to Hume’s thought. If social

interactions depend on reliable expectations and

associated beliefs then presumptively they should be

conserved given that the effect of exibility is to

undermine those foundations. Moreover, these aregenuinely foundations such that it is dangerous to

the superstructure to meddle with them—to inter-

vene in an attempt ameliorate is too risky (better to

let the miser inherit).

ii The rules of justice

I now turn to look at the rules of justice themselves.

Since two of the three rules relate to property—its

stability and transfer—I will focus rst on that rela-

tion, and take up the third rule about promises in thecontext of Hume’s move to the key institution of

government.

One of the commonest complaints of Hume’s

account of justice is that he connes it too narrowly

to questions of property (Harrison, 1981). To explain,


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46 David Hume

and account for, his position we need to return to his

naturalism, his identication of the human predica-ment. Hume distinguishes three species of human

“goods”—“internal satisfaction of our mind, the exter-

nal advantages of our body and the enjoyment of such

possessions as we have acquir’d by our industry and

good fortune” (T 3-2-2.7). He then asserts that we are

“perfectly secure in the enjoyment” of the rst ofthese. Hume is no fan of the Stoics but this is consis-

tent with their conviction that humans are indepen-

dent, capable of “apathy” or being unperturbed by

external events. It also accords with what is now

thought of as a key assumption in the basic liberaltenet of toleration, namely, “inward” belief cannot be

coerced no matter what external pressure is exercised

to ensure “outward” compliance. With the respect to

the second type of “goods,” Hume declares that while

these advantages may well be “ravish’d from us,” they

are of no advantage to the perpetrator. It is not obvi-

ous that being enslaved and forced to work manually

does not benet a conqueror who keeps us alive in

order to toil on his behalf. Of course, another cannot

perform tasks that only the agent can execute (I might

use your “external advantage” to hold physically thehandkerchief but you can’t sneeze for me). This only

leaves the third category. It is possessions that are “both

expos’d to the violence of others and may be transferr’d

without suffering any loss or alteration” (T 3-2-2.7).


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Hume’s Thought 47

From this fact, when coupled with insufciency of

supply, it follows for Hume, that stabilizing possessionof these goods is “the chief advantage of society,” which

is to say that the artice of justice remedies the incon-

venience of unstable possession.

What the rules of justice do is transmute possession

into property. This point is made the rst time Hume

refers to “property” in the Treatise , where in Book IIhe adumbrates the later argument by dening it as

“such a relation betwixt a person and an object as

permits him, but forbids any other, the free use and

possession of it, without violating the laws of justice

and moral equity” (T 2-1-10.1). In Book III, propertyis straightforwardly identied as “nothing but those

goods whose constant possession is establish’d by the

laws of society; that is the laws of justice” (T 3-2-2.11).

In the same paragraph, he also picks up the idea of

property as a relation—“man’s property is some object

related to him” (a relation which on occasion he typi-

es as a species of causation [T 3-2-2.7, T 3-2-3.7, DP:

14]). He then glosses this by adding “this relation is

not natural but moral and founded on justice.” The

gloss is revealing. “Moral” here still bears the generic

sense of customary but it also picks out the conven-tional dimension to the habitual. Much as habits can

constitute a “second nature” they are still d

Berry, Ch (2009)_David Hume

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