Britain was fairly late in switching from the Julian to the Gregorian calendar (the latter was, after all, a Popish innovation). It only did so in 1752, as a result of the Calendar (New Style) Act, often known as Chesterfield's Act, passed a couple of years before. Noting that there were inconveniences in having a calendar that was so different from its neighbors, and a need to reduce confusion in matters of dating, this act made two changes: first, the official beginning of the year would be January 1 rather than March 25 (Scotland, while still on the Julian calendar, had already made this change a century and a half before); and the Gregorian calendar, denominated the New Style, would be used from then on. Switching to the latter required a little finagling of dates given the differences between the Julian and the Gregorian calendar by that time. In September 1752, the calendar was advanced several days -- one day it was September 2, and the next it was September 14. Because of this there is perpetual confusion about dates in 18th century Britain: dates before the turning point were sometimes converted to New Style and sometimes not, a few holdouts here and there continued to use Old Style, and people often mention dates without indicating whether they were New Style or Old Style. You always have to take dates in 18th century Anglophone countries with a grain of salt.
David Hume was born David Home to Joseph Home of Chirnside and Katherine Falconer on April 26, 1711 (Old Style) -- that is, this was his birthday in the Julian calendar that was regnant when he was born. Converting that date into New Style gives us May 7, 1711 (New Style). Thus it's an open question which day to celebrate Hume's birthday; if you prefer just sticking with the Old Style date, then you would celebrate it on April 26. You may have noticed that the Humean theme around here started up at that time. But if you want to celebrate the date as it would have been in our current calendar, you celebrate it today, on May 7. And this year Hume's birthday seems to deserve a bit of a mention, since Hume would be 300 years old, and over the course of that three centuries he has certainly made his mark felt.
Saturday, May 07, 2011
Friday, May 06, 2011
Hume on the Paradox of Compassion
Poverty, meanness, disappointment, produce contempt and dislike: But when these misfortunes are very great, or are represented to us in very strong colours, they excite compassion, and tenderness, and friendship. How is this contradiction to be accounted for? The poverty and meanness of another, in their common appearance, gives us uneasiness by a species of imperfect sympathy; and this uneasiness produces aversion or dislike, from the resemblance of sentiment. But when we enter more intimately into another's concerns, and wish for his happiness, as well as feel his misery, friendship or good-will arises from the similar tendency of the inclinations.
A bankrupt, at first, while the idea of his misfortunes is fresh and recent, and while comparison of his present unhappy situation with his former prosperity operates strongly upon us, meets with compassion and friendship. After these ideas are weakened or obliterated by time, he is in danger of compassion and contempt.
Hume, Dissertation on the Passions, Section III, 6 (3.11-12). Most of the Dissertation on Passions is a condensation of Book II of Hume's Treatise of Human Nature, but this is one of the passages that in DP that has no close parallel in THN. I find this passage somewhat obscure, but I take it that the point is that imperfect sympathy with the poor and unfortunate produces an aversion, because the uneasiness of such sympathy is on its own like dislike; but when our sympathy is extensive enough to encompass desire for the happiness of the people in question (when we enter into their desire for happiness as if it were something like our own) then the sympathy, while still having that uneasiness that is like aversion, has a tendency that is similar to that of benevolence and affection. To put it in different terms, the distinction here is much the same as that which is sometimes expressed by distinguishing compassion from pity, in the sense in which the latter involves a condescension, or focus on the pathetic or contemptible character of what is pitied. As Hume says, there is a compassion with contempt and a compassion with friendship. One can tip into the other depending on the degree and manner in which we 'put ourselves in their place', as we say.
Thursday, May 05, 2011
Hume on Delicacy of Imagination
One obvious cause, why many feel not the proper sentiment of beauty, is the want of that delicacy of imagination, which is requisite to convey a sensibility of those finer emotions. This delicacy every one pretends to: Every one talks of it; and would reduce every kind of taste or sentiment to its standard. But as our intention in this essay is to mingle some light of the understanding with the feelings of sentiment, it will be proper to give a more accurate definition of delicacy, than has hitherto been attempted. And not to draw our philosophy from too profound a source, we shall have recourse to a noted story in DON QUIXOTE.
It is with good reason, says SANCHO to the squire with the great nose, that I pretend to have a judgment in wine: this is a quality hereditary in our family. Two of my kinsmen were once called to give their opinion of a hogshead, which was supposed to be excellent, being old and of a good vintage. One of them tastes it; considers it; and after mature reflection pronounces the wine to be good, were it not for a small taste of leather, which he perceived in it. The other, after using the same precautions, gives also his verdict in favour of the wine; but with the reserve of a taste of iron, which he could easily distinguish. You cannot imagine how much they were both ridiculed for their judgment. But who laughed in the end? On emptying the hogshead, there was found at the bottom, an old key with a leathern thong tied to it.
David Hume, Of the Standard of Taste. Delicacy of imagination is the ability to recognize by feel subtle qualities and features in a composition; as Hume goes on to argue, despite the fact that people vary considerably on this point with respect to their natural talents, by practice everyone can make considerable headway: wide experience, frequent examination even of the same works, and self-critique so as to remove interfering biases, give one the capacity to recognize very subtle features of any work of art, and thus to have a superior taste.
And, of course, since Hume thinks of moral judgment as a species of taste, what applies to aesthetic taste will apply, mutatis mutandis, to moral taste.
Added Later: The Don Quixote reference is to Chapter XIII, for those who like to see the original.
Cinco de Mayo
A repost with some revisions.
Cinco de Mayo celebrates the battle of Puebla on May 5, 1862, in which Mexican soldiers, facing a much larger French army, achieved victory. It is not to be confused with Mexico's Independence Day, which is September 16; Mexican independence from Spain was achieved almost fifty years before the battle of Puebla. During the administration of Mexican president Benito Juarez, Napoleon III had sent an army, under the pretext of debt collection, to establish French rule in Mexico under the viceroy Maximilian. It was a bold plan, but the odds dramatically favored Napoleon III: the French army was one of the finest in the world at that time, and the United States, who given the chance would certainly have opposed the French incursion and assisted the Mexicans (as they would later), was embroiled in the Civil War. The French smashed through the initial Mexican defenses.
Operating under the assumption that the Mexicans would capitulate if their capital were to fall, the French set out to attack Mexico City. The Mexican army, under the leadership of Texas-born Ignacio Zaragoza (Texas, of course, was at the time of his birth still part of Mexico; Zaragoza was born in Goliad and moved with his family to Mexico after Texas independence), retreated to the fortified city of Puebla. When the French arrived, they sent their cavalry out to the French flanks; the French army made the mistake of sending its own cavalry to chase them. The Mexican cavalry was easily able to tie up the French cavalry, thus forcing the French infantry to charge the Mexican infantry unassisted. The ground was muddy from rain, making it difficult to maneuver. It is also sometimes said that the Mexicans stampeded large herds of cattle against the French; which, if true, would have no doubt been a bit disconcerting. In any case, the French were eventually forced to retreat from Puebla. Against enormous odds, the Mexicans had won the battle.
But they lost the war. The French naturally brought in reinforcements and nothing could really stop them from seizing control of Mexico. Juarez was sent into hiding, where he organized the resistance. Maximilian ruled until 1867, when he was executed by troops loyal to Juarez.
Cinco do Mayo is celebrated in Mexico, but except for perhaps Puebla and the surrounding areas, it is not even close to being as popular as it is in the U.S., where it is perhaps second only to St. Patrick's Day as the most widely celebrated ethnic holiday.
Cinco de Mayo celebrates the battle of Puebla on May 5, 1862, in which Mexican soldiers, facing a much larger French army, achieved victory. It is not to be confused with Mexico's Independence Day, which is September 16; Mexican independence from Spain was achieved almost fifty years before the battle of Puebla. During the administration of Mexican president Benito Juarez, Napoleon III had sent an army, under the pretext of debt collection, to establish French rule in Mexico under the viceroy Maximilian. It was a bold plan, but the odds dramatically favored Napoleon III: the French army was one of the finest in the world at that time, and the United States, who given the chance would certainly have opposed the French incursion and assisted the Mexicans (as they would later), was embroiled in the Civil War. The French smashed through the initial Mexican defenses.
Operating under the assumption that the Mexicans would capitulate if their capital were to fall, the French set out to attack Mexico City. The Mexican army, under the leadership of Texas-born Ignacio Zaragoza (Texas, of course, was at the time of his birth still part of Mexico; Zaragoza was born in Goliad and moved with his family to Mexico after Texas independence), retreated to the fortified city of Puebla. When the French arrived, they sent their cavalry out to the French flanks; the French army made the mistake of sending its own cavalry to chase them. The Mexican cavalry was easily able to tie up the French cavalry, thus forcing the French infantry to charge the Mexican infantry unassisted. The ground was muddy from rain, making it difficult to maneuver. It is also sometimes said that the Mexicans stampeded large herds of cattle against the French; which, if true, would have no doubt been a bit disconcerting. In any case, the French were eventually forced to retreat from Puebla. Against enormous odds, the Mexicans had won the battle.
But they lost the war. The French naturally brought in reinforcements and nothing could really stop them from seizing control of Mexico. Juarez was sent into hiding, where he organized the resistance. Maximilian ruled until 1867, when he was executed by troops loyal to Juarez.
Cinco do Mayo is celebrated in Mexico, but except for perhaps Puebla and the surrounding areas, it is not even close to being as popular as it is in the U.S., where it is perhaps second only to St. Patrick's Day as the most widely celebrated ethnic holiday.
Wednesday, May 04, 2011
A Newish Canada
I don't keep up with Canadian politics like I used to, but I was interested to see the continued implosion of the Liberal Party in the recent election. The Liberal Party was once the most successful political party in the Western world, having dominated a G7 nation for the overwhelming bulk of the twentieth century. One of my favorite political jokes used to be that the difference between politics in the U.S. and politics in Canada was that U.S. politics was dominated by two large, corrupt, barely distinguishable parties, while Canadian politics was dominated by one large, corrupt, barely distinguishable party. Like most political jokes, it was ruined by a political upset, when the Conservatives installed Harper in 24 Sussex Drive.
Since then Harper has held on tenaciously, but it hadn't seemed that the Conservative regime would last long, being held together by fragile alliances. But now the Conservatives have, for the first time, a clear majority, with 167 seats. The Bloc Quebecois has been nearly totally swallowed up, down to 4 seats; and the once-mighty Liberal Party is limping along in third place with 34 seats. In effect, the Liberals were eaten away from both sides: the anti-NDP people defected to the Conservatives, people on the anti-Conservative side defected to the NDP. And what's really remarkable is how the NDP has benefited from the collapse of the Bloc and the Grits, having become the opposition leader with an astounding 102 seats. This from a party that was almost swept from the federal scene in 1993 after a massive route that left it only nine seats.
I have to confess, I honestly didn't think Jack Layton was competent enough to take advantage of the times the way he has. Indeed, I'm a bit impressed he lasted this long, since I wasn't expecting it. I remember looking at the field of candidates for NDP leadership as Alexa McDonough stepped down and liking every single one of them -- I'm not a huge fan of NDP politics, but many NDP politicians are quite charming -- except Layton, who manages to carry around the air of trustworthiness of a used car salesman or ambulance chaser and who can't seem to say or do anything without saying or doing it obnoxiously. Very American political style, actually. But Layton, despite not even having a seat in Parliament at the time, eventually beat the extraordinarily likable Bill Blaikie for the role. And he's managed to hold on. Perhaps that's what the NDP needed, after all. On the other hand, I remember Blaikie at his retirement bemoaned the fact that the quality of parliamentary culture had declined as people increasingly devoted themselves to "character assassination, simulated indignation, and trivial pursuit" rather than real debate. And while Layton isn't the only culprit by any means, simulated indignation is even more a part of him than his mustache is.
It's very likely the fear of NDP dominance that led to the entrenchment of the Conservatives. So I suppose the real question is: Are the Conservatives the Liberal Party of the twenty-first century? That would be a feat that would be hard to pull off. On the other hand, it still isn't clear that NDP can play opposition well enough to take the 24 Sussex from the Conservatives (this would depend, for instance, on keeping Quebec happy, because if the BQ recovers, the NDP can look forward to nothing stronger than a weak minority government on occasion, and also depends on Harper's ability not to push his newfound stability too far). It's a new season in Canadian politics; it is extremely unlikely the Liberals will ever recapture their former position, and thus it's a Conservative vs. NDP Canada. And that means Canada has entered a phase of parliamentary politics most Western parliamentary democracies entered long ago: the dominance of Labor-left over Liberal-left.
On the other hand, it's hard to see how this would significantly change the dominant issues of Canadian politics, either.
Since then Harper has held on tenaciously, but it hadn't seemed that the Conservative regime would last long, being held together by fragile alliances. But now the Conservatives have, for the first time, a clear majority, with 167 seats. The Bloc Quebecois has been nearly totally swallowed up, down to 4 seats; and the once-mighty Liberal Party is limping along in third place with 34 seats. In effect, the Liberals were eaten away from both sides: the anti-NDP people defected to the Conservatives, people on the anti-Conservative side defected to the NDP. And what's really remarkable is how the NDP has benefited from the collapse of the Bloc and the Grits, having become the opposition leader with an astounding 102 seats. This from a party that was almost swept from the federal scene in 1993 after a massive route that left it only nine seats.
I have to confess, I honestly didn't think Jack Layton was competent enough to take advantage of the times the way he has. Indeed, I'm a bit impressed he lasted this long, since I wasn't expecting it. I remember looking at the field of candidates for NDP leadership as Alexa McDonough stepped down and liking every single one of them -- I'm not a huge fan of NDP politics, but many NDP politicians are quite charming -- except Layton, who manages to carry around the air of trustworthiness of a used car salesman or ambulance chaser and who can't seem to say or do anything without saying or doing it obnoxiously. Very American political style, actually. But Layton, despite not even having a seat in Parliament at the time, eventually beat the extraordinarily likable Bill Blaikie for the role. And he's managed to hold on. Perhaps that's what the NDP needed, after all. On the other hand, I remember Blaikie at his retirement bemoaned the fact that the quality of parliamentary culture had declined as people increasingly devoted themselves to "character assassination, simulated indignation, and trivial pursuit" rather than real debate. And while Layton isn't the only culprit by any means, simulated indignation is even more a part of him than his mustache is.
It's very likely the fear of NDP dominance that led to the entrenchment of the Conservatives. So I suppose the real question is: Are the Conservatives the Liberal Party of the twenty-first century? That would be a feat that would be hard to pull off. On the other hand, it still isn't clear that NDP can play opposition well enough to take the 24 Sussex from the Conservatives (this would depend, for instance, on keeping Quebec happy, because if the BQ recovers, the NDP can look forward to nothing stronger than a weak minority government on occasion, and also depends on Harper's ability not to push his newfound stability too far). It's a new season in Canadian politics; it is extremely unlikely the Liberals will ever recapture their former position, and thus it's a Conservative vs. NDP Canada. And that means Canada has entered a phase of parliamentary politics most Western parliamentary democracies entered long ago: the dominance of Labor-left over Liberal-left.
On the other hand, it's hard to see how this would significantly change the dominant issues of Canadian politics, either.
Tuesday, May 03, 2011
Aquinas and Hume on Divorce and Marital Friendship
In light of Russell Nieli's discussion of Hume's discussion of divorce and polygamy, I thought I would juxtapose two passages on the subject of divorce, one from Aquinas and one from Hume, to show their similarities.
First Aquinas (Summa Contra Gentiles 3.123):
As with Aquinas, Hume places the emphasis on prudence, reason, and friendship ("Of Polygamy and Divorce"):
It's interesting that Aquinas and Hume hit on roughly similar arguments in criticizing divorce; and perhaps even more interesting is the importance given to friendship in their accounts of marriage. The common link is almost certainly Cicero, although I haven't actually read anything by Cicero about marriage; that is, most of the commonalities between Hume's moral theory and Aquinas's (and there are many more than one might expect) are explainable by the influence of Cicero on Hume. Aquinas has the stronger view of the role of friendship in marriage, of course; both of them take friendship to be essentially constitutive of marriage, and Aquinas has the stronger view of marriage, so his position requires him to make stronger claims about the friendship involved.
First Aquinas (Summa Contra Gentiles 3.123):
The greater a friendship is, the more solid and long-lasting will it be. Now, there seems to be the greatest friendship [maxima amicitia] between husband and wife, for they are united not only in the act of fleshly union, which produces a certain gentle association even between animals, but also in the partnership of the whole range of domestic activity. Consequently, as an indication of this, man must even 'leave his father and mother' for the sake of his wife, as is said in Genesis (2:24).
As with Aquinas, Hume places the emphasis on prudence, reason, and friendship ("Of Polygamy and Divorce"):
But friendship is a calm and sedate affection, conducted by reason and cemented by habit; springing from long acquaintance and mutual obligations; without jealousies or fears, and without those feverish fits of heat and cold, which cause such an agreeable torment in the amorous passion. So sober an affection, therefore, as friendship, rather thrives under constraint, and never rises to such a height, as when any strong interest or necessity binds two persons together, and gives them some common object of pursuit. We need not, therefore, be afraid of drawing the marriage-knot, which chiefly subsists by friendship, the closest possible. The amity between the persons, where it is solid and sincere, will rather gain by it: And where it is wavering and uncertain, this is the best expedient for fixing it.
It's interesting that Aquinas and Hume hit on roughly similar arguments in criticizing divorce; and perhaps even more interesting is the importance given to friendship in their accounts of marriage. The common link is almost certainly Cicero, although I haven't actually read anything by Cicero about marriage; that is, most of the commonalities between Hume's moral theory and Aquinas's (and there are many more than one might expect) are explainable by the influence of Cicero on Hume. Aquinas has the stronger view of the role of friendship in marriage, of course; both of them take friendship to be essentially constitutive of marriage, and Aquinas has the stronger view of marriage, so his position requires him to make stronger claims about the friendship involved.
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