On Adam Smith's "Wealth of Nations": A Philosophical Companion

"Like Griswold’s book for The Theory of Moral Sentiments , Fleischacker’s book was, in many ways, the first of its kind—the first philosophical companion to The Wealth of Nations . It shows just how many deep philosophical questions Smith tackles in The Wealth of Nations , either explicitly or implicitly—not just with respect to economic and political issues, but also with respect to things like human nature, human psychology, morality and happiness. Fleischacker writes very clearly and even beautifully. He effectively brings out just how rich Smith’s political economy is. Among its many virtues, this book builds on earlier work by [the economic historian] Emma Rothschild to show that there are, in addition to the obvious aspects of Smith’s thought that would push him toward the libertarian right (like his general distrust of politicians), a number of features of his thought that would push him toward the political left, in contemporary terms. Above all, Fleischacker highlights Smith’s deep, palpable concern for the lot of the poor, and argues that his strong belief in human equality made him a forerunner of contemporary notions of distributive justice and the welfare state. Yes, and it goes well beyond political economy. For a long time, most of the books about The Wealth of Nations were just about free trade and mercantilism etc. This book helps to show how much other stuff there is in it. The Wealth of Nations is a big book, so of course there’s a lot in it, but Fleischacker brings out the richness of the discussions really nicely. Smith has a particular, 18th century writing style. It’s not always easy to pick up. The Wealth of Nations is 900 pages long. At one point, there is an 80-page digression—what Smith himself calls a digression—on the variation of the price of silver in different ages. There are aspects of it that are hard to slog through, even if you’re me and really interested in Smith and what he has to say. The Theory of Moral Sentiments has less of that, but it presents challenges of its own. Above all, it opens without any introduction or discussion of where the book is going. It almost seems as if he’s in mid-thought. He’s arguing with somebody from the very first sentence, an unnamed interlocutor. So it takes a while to get your bearings. But once you’ve got familiar with it, I do think Smith is a beautiful writer. Funny, maybe a couple funny moments, but no… Hume is a much funnier writer than Smith. Fleischacker’s previous book was on Kant, so maybe it’s about what you’re comparing it to… The Wealth of Nations is very clear, it’s very comprehensive, and it gives real, concrete policy advice. Hume’s essays had given broad reasons why what he called ‘the jealousy of trade’ is counterproductive and foolish. But Smith says, ‘Okay, here are some recommendations on tax policy, here are some recommendations on areas X, Y, and Z.’ He really gave them a blueprint. That’s one of the things that makes it so difficult to know—and why there are constant debates among Smith scholars about—where he would stand on today’s political spectrum. He gives this policy advice in the 18th century, and it’s hard to know how that would translate to today. What are the principles underlying his advice, rather than just the pieces of advice themselves, which you obviously can’t import to a totally different situation? And he, himself, was well aware that you couldn’t do such a thing. Emma Rothschild started off with an article called ‘Adam Smith and Conservative Economics’ but then built that into her book called Economic Sentiments , which came out a couple of years before Fleischacker’s book. She was really one of the pioneers in showing the left-wing side of Smith (in contemporary terms) and how Smith had been used and abused by conservative economists for their own ends. If you go back and read him, you see his deep concern for the lot of the poor, you see him saying that a degree of progressive taxation is perfectly reasonable, you see his at least implicit support for labour unions. In short, all the features of his thought that would push him toward the left in today’s terms. There’s a famous scene—that every biography of Smith includes—where he’s coming to give advice to Pitt. Pitt and all his top ministers are in a room and Smith walks in and they all stand up to greet him and he says, ‘Sit down, gentlemen.’ And they say, ‘No, we will stand till you’re first seated for we’re all your followers’—or something of the sort. So they very much saw themselves as following in his footsteps. From what I understand, many of the policies and practices of the Pitt Administration were fairly Smithian, fairly free trade oriented, until war broke out with Revolutionary France, which muddled everything. Economists tend to see Smith as a forerunner of what they’re trying to be, meaning a kind of impartial, neutral, value-free observer. I guess there are times in The Wealth of Nations when he does take that posture. Some scholars even argue that he does so in The Theory of Moral Sentiments , that he’s just describing where morality comes from and not what it actually consists of. I think that’s not terribly plausible with regard to The Theory of Moral Sentiments. There’s more of that in The Wealth of Nations , but he certainly doesn’t leave questions of morality behind. As I say, he argues for free trade not just because it’s the most efficient, but because it helps to improve the lot of the poor—it’s also more just . We know from Smith’s correspondence that he worked on a couple of other books, in addition to the two he published. But he never completed either of them to his satisfaction and he had the drafts burned. He had the great majority of his papers burned just before he died. He did allow his literary executors to posthumously release a volume of essays that were called Essays on Philosophical Subjects . We also have student notes from a couple of the courses he taught, but whether he would like us looking at them, I doubt. Support Five Books Five Books interviews are expensive to produce. If you're enjoying this interview, please support us by donating a small amount . Smith did publish one other work under his own name during his lifetime, in addition to the two books, which I find to be particularly beautiful and revealing, even if short. This was an open letter on the last days, death, and character of David Hume. It was published under the name ‘Letter from Adam Smith, LL.D. to William Strahan, Esq.’ This ended up being maybe the most controversial thing Smith ever wrote. It appeared in a highly charged atmosphere. Few in 18th century Britain were as forthright in their lack of religious faith as Hume was and, as Hume neared death, everyone wanted to know how he’d face his end. Would he show remorse, or maybe even recant his scepticism? Would he die in a state of distress, having none of the usual consolations afforded by belief in an afterlife? Smith’s letter was effectively the authorised version of the story of Hume’s death. It appeared with Hume’s advance permission as a kind of companion piece to Hume’s autobiography called My Own Life in March 1777. “Smith later proclaimed that it ‘brought upon me ten times more abuse than the very violent attack I’d made on the whole commercial system of Great Britain’” Smith doesn’t explicitly call attention to Hume’s impiety in the letter, but he does make pretty clear that Hume died with remarkable good humour and without religion. He chronicles—some would say flaunts—the cheerfulness and the equanimity of Hume’s final days, showing him telling jokes and playing cards and conversing cheerfully with his friends. He also emphasises the excellence of Hume’s character. In fact, Smith concludes the letter by declaring that Hume, his unbelieving friend, approached ‘as nearly to the idea of a perfectly wise and virtuous man as perhaps the nature of human frailty will permit.’ This work is relatively little known today, but in Smith’s day this depiction of Hume’s calm and courageous death caused an absolute uproar. Smith later proclaimed that it ‘brought upon me ten times more abuse than the very violent attack I’d made on the whole commercial system of Great Britain.’ For anyone who hasn’t read it, I really recommend it. As I say, it’s quite short, quite beautiful, and quite revealing. I discuss this letter and the fierce reaction to it in the final chapter of The Infidel and the Professor , and then the letter itself is included in the appendix. I wouldn’t say that even Hume was an atheist—he’s more what we might call an agnostic. He would say that we shouldn’t be so sure that there’s no God, atheism is a pretty strong position. But he is sceptical about it. With Smith, it’s harder to say. There’s no real consensus among Smith scholars on his religious views. Some read him as a closet atheist, some as a more or less orthodox Christian. Most come down somewhere in the middle, saying that he’s a deist of some kind. My own reading—and I think this would be somewhat controversial among Smith scholars—is that Smith’s views were substantially closer to Hume’s, which is to say substantially more sceptical, than is usually assumed. Perhaps his scepticism retained a touch of deism. I think it’s distinctly possible that Smith believed in a distant, maybe even benevolent higher power. But I think he almost certainly wasn’t a believing Christian. He seems to have been suspicious of most forms of religious devotion. But as you say, whereas Hume was fairly forthright about his lack of faith, Smith generally went to great lengths, in both his writings and his personal life, to avoid revealing his religious beliefs (or lack thereof). Contemporaries frequently noted that Smith was ‘very guarded in conversation’ when the topic of religion came up. He wrote about it a lot less than Hume did, and what little he did write is sufficiently ambiguous to leave most readers unsure of his ultimate convictions. But my reading of all the evidence—the writings, the revisions of the writings, the actions he took, and of course his friendship with Hume—was that he’s quite a bit more sceptical than has often been believed. Yes, he was always extremely close to her. This is a theory that’s been put forward by a scholar named Gavin Kennedy. He’s made the point in a number of different places that we couldn’t really expect Smith to be openly impious given his close relationship with his mother and her piety. I think that’s probably part of it. Smith also just seemed temperamentally disposed to being more circumspect than Hume. Hume gets into a quarrel with Rousseau and wants to publish it to the world, and Smith says, ‘No! Why publish all your gossiping stories for the public?’ He may have also just thought that religion was less dangerous of a phenomenon than Hume did, and that its dangers would be better combated through quiet neglect rather than open confrontation or poking the pious in the eye at every chance you get. It’s also possible that he learned a lesson from Hume. Hume’s impiety was far more open and, as a result, he was twice denied professorships. Attempts were made to excommunicate him from the Kirk. Smith wanted to be a Professor of Moral Philosophy. When he became a professor in Glasgow, one the first things he did was ask to be freed from the customary duty of opening each day’s class with a prayer, but he was turned down. So, certainly, he couldn’t have been too openly impious and still been a professor. On that note, I think it’s worth pointing out that The Theory of Moral Sentiments becomes a less religious book over time. Subsequent editions invoke providence less and less. And the first toning down comes in the third edition, which was the first one published after he left his professorship. I’m guessing there’s some kind of connection there. He was just very careful, very concerned about what he wrote. He worked it and reworked it and didn’t want to put anything in print that he hadn’t thought through and approved. There’s another contrast there. Hume wrote so much—a six-volume history of England and all these different works. Two books, plus this one letter, are the only things Smith published over the course of his life. He was never satisfied with anything he wrote and didn’t want posterity to get its hands on something that he hadn’t worked through to his satisfaction. This was one of his great worries. When he was in ill-health in 1773, and heading to London to publish The Wealth of Nations, he made Hume his literary executor. He said, ‘Okay, you’ve got to burn all these papers if I die while I’m gone.’ And then, when he was close to actual death in 1790, he called his literary executors and said, ‘I’m going to die soon. You’ve just got to burn all these while I’m still alive so I feel safe about this.’ He was always concerned to make sure all his papers were gone, much to the regret of later scholars."