The Foundations of Morality

1. The Contribution of Hume

Let us begin with Hume’s own exposition of the principle, and of the reasons for it, in the Treatise:

Hume then speaks of “the general, inflexible rules necessary to support general peace and order in society,” and continues:

2. The Principle in Adam Smith

It would be impossible to exaggerate the importance of this principle both in law and in ethics. We will find later that, among other things, it alone can reconcile what is true in some of the traditional controversies of ethics—the long-standing dispute, for example, between Benthamite Utilitarianism and Kantian formalism, between relativism and absolutism, and even between “empirical” and “intuitive” ethics.

It is only natural that we should look for some trace of the influence of Hume’s General-Rules Principle in Adam Smith, his admirer and younger friend (by twelve years), and—at least in some doctrines—his disciple. (Many of the views in The Wealth of Nations, on commerce, money, interest, the balance and freedom of trade, taxes and public credit, are anticipated in Hume’s Essays, Literary, Moral, and Political, published some thirty years earlier.) And we do in fact find that Adam Smith incorporated the General-Rules Principle in his Theory of the Moral Sentiments (1759), particularly in Part III, Chapters IV and V. He states it eloquently:

Smith oversimplifies the problem, and does not recognize his own inconsistency. If we had always, from the beginning of time, instantly recognized, just by seeing them, hearing of them, or doing them, what actions were right and what were wrong, we would not need to frame general rules and resolve to abide by general rules, unless it were the general rule: Always do right and never do wrong. We would not even need to study or discuss ethics. We could dispense with all treatises on ethics or even any discussion of specific ethical problems. All ethics could be summed up in the foregoing rule of seven words. Even the Ten Commandments would be nine commandments too many.

3. Rediscovery in the Twentieth Century

The problem, unfortunately, is more complicated. It is true that our present ethical judgments of some actions are instantaneous; they seem based on abhorrence of the act itself, and not on any consideration of its consequences (apart from those that seem inherent in the act, such as the suffering of a person who is being tortured, or the death of a person who is killed), or on any judgment that they involve the violation of an abstract general rule. Nevertheless most of these instantaneous judgments may indeed be partly or mainly based on the fact that a general rule is being violated. We may look with horror on another car speeding directly toward us on its left side of the road, though there is nothing inherently wrong with driving on the left side of the road, and the whole danger comes from the violation of a general rule. And in our private moral judgments, no less than in law, we do in fact try to decide under what general rule we should act or under what general rule a given act should be classed. The courts must decide whether a given act is First-Degree Murder, or Manslaughter, or Self-Defense. If a patient’s disease is hopeless a doctor who is asked for reassurance must decide whether this would be Telling a Lie, or Sparing Needless Suffering. When we are deciding (if we ever consciously do) whether or not to tell our hostess that we can’t remember when we have had such a wonderful evening, we must decide whether this would be Perjury, Hypocrisy, or the Duty of Politeness.

The problem of deciding under what rule an act should be classed can sometimes present difficulties. F. H. Bradley was so impressed by these, in fact, that he even deplored any effort to solve the problem “by a reflective deduction” and insisted it must only be done “by an intuitive subsumption, which does not know that it is a subsumption.” “No act in the world,” he argued, “is without some side capable of being subsumed under a good rule; e.g. theft is economy, care for one’s relations, protest against bad institutions, really doing oneself but justice, etc.,” and reasoning about the matter leads straight to immorality. (Ethical Studies, pp. 196-197.) I do not think we need take this obscurantist argument very seriously. Logically followed, it would condemn all reasoning about ethics, including Bradley’s. The problem of deciding under what rule of law an act should be classed is one that our courts and judges must solve a thousand times a day, and not by “intuitive subsumption” but by reasoning that will stand up on appeal. In ethics the problem may not often arise—but when it does it is precisely because our “intuitive subsumptions” conflict.

The need of adhering inflexibly to general rules is plain. Even the qualifications to rules must be drawn according to general rules. An “exception” to a rule must not be capricious, but itself capable of being stated as a rule, capable of being made part of a rule, of being embodied in a rule. Even here, in brief, we must be guided by generality, predictability, certainty, the non-disappointment of reasonable expectations.

The great principle that Hume discovered and framed was that, while conduct should be judged by its “utility,” that is, by its consequences, by its tendency to promote happiness and well-being, it is not specific acts that should be so judged, but general rules of action. It is only the probable long-run consequences of these, and not of specific acts, that can reasonably be foreseen. As F. A. Hayek has put it:

In any case, there will often be a profound difference in our moral judment, according to which standard we apply. The standards of direct or ad hoc utilitism will not necessarily in every case be less demanding than the standards of rule-utilitism. In fact, to ask a man in his every act to do that “which will contribute more than any other act to human happiness” (as some of the older utilitarians did) is to impose upon him an oppressive as well as impossible choice. For it is impossible for any man to know what all the consequences of a given act will be when it is considered in isolation. It is not impossible for him to know, however, what the probable consequences will be of following a generally accepted rule. For these probable consequences are known as a result of the whole of human experience. It is the results of previous human experience that have framed our traditional moral rules. When the individual is asked merely to follow some accepted rule, the moral burdens put upon him are not impossible. The pangs of conscience that may come to him if his action does not turn out to have the most beneficent consequences are not unbearable. For not the least of the advantages of our all acting according to commonly accepted moral rules is that our actions are predictable by others and the actions of others are predictable by us, with the result that we are all better able to cooperate with each other in helping each other to pursue our individual ends.

When we judge an act by a mere ad hoc utilitism, it is as if we asked: What would be the consequences of this act if it could be considered as an isolated act, as a just-this-once act, without consequences as a precedent or as an example to others? But this means that we are deliberately disregarding what may be its most important consequences.

In pursuing the further implications of the principle of acting according to general rules, we must consider the whole relationship of ethics and law.