Royal Institute of Philosophy
From Passions to Emotions and Sentiments
Author(s): Amélie Oksenberg Rorty
Source: Philosophy, Vol. 57, No. 220 (Apr., 1982), pp. 159-172
Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of Royal Institute of Philosophy
Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/4619556 .
Accessed: 31/12/2013 12:16
Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at .
http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp
.
JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of
content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms
of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].
.
Cambridge University Press and Royal Institute of Philosophy are collaborating with JSTOR to digitize,
preserve and extend access to Philosophy.
http://www.jstor.org
This content downloaded from 131.104.62.10 on Tue, 31 Dec 2013 12:16:19 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
From
and
Passions
Sentiments
to
Emotions
AMftLIE OKSENBERG RORTY
During the period from Descartes to Rousseau, the mind changed. Its
domainwas redefined;its activitieswereredescribed;andits variouspowers
were redistributed.Once a part of cosmic Nous, its variousfunctions delimited by its embodied condition, the individual mind now becomes a
field of forces with desiresimpingingon one another,their forces resolved
accordingto their strengths and directions. Of course since there is no
such thing as The Mind Itself, it was not the mind that changed. Conceptions of the mind changed.Yet even to say this is misleading,because
it suggests that somewhereout there in nowhere there is Nous, Psyche,
Soul or Mind, the true but opaqueobject of all these conceptions.But of
course there is no Mind in the realm of things in themselves,waiting for
us to see it truly, like a China of the noumenalworld, amused that our
variousconceptionsrevealas much about ourselvesas about it.
One way of tracingchangesin the mind is to trace changesin one of its
activities. We can use transformationsof the passions to emotions and
sentimentsas a scarletdye, as it were, to locate other changesin the mind.
Instead of being reactions to invasions from something external to the
self, passionsbecame the very activitiesof the mind, its own motions. So
transformedthey become proper motives, and along with desires, the
beginningsof actions. During this period,emotionsalso ceaseto be merely
turbulent commotions: among them appear sentiments, ways of feeling
pleasuresand pains as evaluations,and so as the properguides to action.
Some of these sentiments,those that aresocial in originas well as in direction-calm passions and sentiments that we acquire from others-make
moralitypossible. From having been brute facts of the fallen conditionphysical states with which a moral person must contend, and which he
must redirect, control, transformor suppress-passions become motives,
a person's own sources and directionof energy, and then, as sentiments,
they providethe conditionsfor civilized society.
And of courseas conceptionsof the passionschange,the primeexamples
of the passionschange,and their relationsto the otheractivitiesof the mind
also shift. When fearand angerarethe primeexamplesof invadingpassions
then we are 'overcome'by love, pity or compassion.In such a system, it is
rationalitythat assuresjustice. But when the primaryexamplesof the passions include sentimentsacquiredby sympatheticvibrationsto others like
ourselves-when we sorrow because others sorrow-the virtue of justice
Philosophy57 1982
This content downloaded from 131.104.62.10 on Tue, 31 Dec 2013 12:16:19 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
I59
Amblie Oksenberg Rorty
can become the senseof justice, its operationsassuredby benevolentsocial
passionsratherthan by rationality.
But the faculties of the mind hunt in packs, with factions, allies, and
oppositions.So when the passionshave become acts and activitiesof the
mind, then reason,imagination,perceptionand desire have also been relocated.Platonicreasonwas a directiveforce, capableof opposingdesires,
and sometimes even forming them. Reason was once the primaryruling
power of the soul. But when the mind has become a field of forces, the
place of knowledge in that field becomes problematic.Is reason one of
the forces in the field, or is it outsidethe field altogether,a map indicating
but not dictatingresolutions?Once the world of forms has been transformed, and psychologyis a branch of mechanics,what does it mean to
say that the heartis informed?When reasonis assignedonly the functions
of discoveringregularitiesamongmattersof fact and analysingthe relations
among ideas, it is the imaginationthat becomesthe active faculty. Besides
its traditionalfunctions of recombiningperceptualelements, it becomes
capableof introducingnovelideasandimpressions:it becomesa productive
or spontaneousfaculty and not merely a reproductiveone. The ancients
had alliedfantasia with the passions, and found them both suspect. The
imaginationremains closely allied with the sentiments even after it has
become an active power; but now instead of being a threatto justice and
the virtues, it provides the condition for the possibility of sympathetic
morality. So even when the map of faculties remainsthe same, and the
imaginationand the passionsremainclosely linked,the significanceof the
alliancechanges.
Of coursea properaccountof the passionsis usuallynot the beginningof
philosophicalinvestigations,nor is it at the centreof philosophicalattention.
But it is preciselybecause the passionsare the poor relationsof the mind,
that they most sensitivelyreflectgerrymanderingshifts in powerelsewhere.
Standardlya philosophicaccountof the mind begins with an exposureof a
technicaldisasterin the work of a predecessor.But often, as in the case of
Descartesand of Hume, the negativezeal is at the serviceeitherof scientific
discoveriesor of investigationsof social and political virtues. Descartes'
discoverythat the necessarytruths of physics are clear and distinct ideas,
that they can be demonstrateddeductivelyby the use of reductioarguments,
suggestsa theoryof the mind, a particulardistributionof intellectualfunctions. The duty of completeness, and a set of embarrassingquestions,
eventuallyrequiresan examinationof the relationsbetween the clear and
distinct ideas of the mind and its passions.And, as is often the way with
what is pushed to the back of the mind, the returnof the repressedforces
a reconsideration.The passions turn out to be clues to the mind's real
powers.
Similarly,although Hume did not begin as a partisanof the passions,
he found in them solutions to the problemsthat arose from his attempts
16o
This content downloaded from 131.104.62.10 on Tue, 31 Dec 2013 12:16:19 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
From Passions to Emotionsand Sentiments
to do justiceto the precisionsof scepticismsandthe claimsof common
lost the ideaof personal
sense.Having,in the processof this arbitration,
it a merefiction)he findsthe sources
identity(or at anyrate,pronounced
of thatfictionin thepassions.Prideshowspersonalidentityto be a powerful
ratherthanan idle fiction.
For Descartesand for Hume,the passionsturn out to be unexpected
pivotalturningpointsthatrevealthe realnatureof the self. In this paper,
of
I shalltracethe waysin whichtheirattemptsto explainthe phenomena
mind
and
its
the
of
to
revise
initial
their
accounts
the passionsleadthem
powers.
I
Afterhavingdistinguishedthe functionsof the soul fromthose of the body,
and distinguishedthe soul's actionsfrom its passions,Descartessays, with
engaging obscurity: '. . . l'usage de toutes les passions consiste en cela
seul, qu'elles disposentl'ame a vouloirles choses que la naturedicte nous
estre utiles, et a persisteren cette volonte; commeaussi la mesme agitation
des esprits,qui a coustumede les causer,dispose le corps aux mouvemens
qui serventa l'executionde ces choses' (Art. LII). [The customaryuse or
functionof all the passionsconsistsonly in this, that they disposethe soul
to will those things which nature tells us are useful to us, and to persist
in this volition; and also, that same agitation of spirits which usually
causes them disposes the body to those movementswhich serve to bring
about those things.]
He then proceedsto give an accountof the functionof each of the basic
passionsas it affectsthe soul, and as it affectsthe body. But this quotation
really introducesthree characters,the soul, the body and then this third
character,the we. But we might ask, who is this we who is served by the
passions?And how are we served?
Descartesgives us two quite differentpicturesof the mind and of ourselves, and two correspondingpictures of the place and functions of the
passionsin our essentialselves. He thinks he has a theorythat unites these
two pictures. The first picture is that presentedin the first parts of The
Meditations:the cogitorevealsthe true self as a mind whose sole activity
is thought.It has ideas,is capableof reflectingon them, can doubtwhether
they aretrue, can provesome of them to be necessarilytrue, and can decide
to refrain from assertingthose whose truth is not demonstrable.As he
says in his reply to Gassendi's Objections:'Soul must be understoodto
apply only to the principle by which we think. I have called it by the name
mind as often as possible in order to avoid ambiguity. For I consider the
mind not as part of the soul but as the whole of the soul which thinks'
(HR II 21o).
As the Regulae is an adaptation of rules for spiritual exercises, so also
The Meditations is an ironic theft and transformation of the traditional
161
This content downloaded from 131.104.62.10 on Tue, 31 Dec 2013 12:16:19 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
Amelie Oksenberg Rorty
religious meditation.In order to arriveat true self-realization,to see the
ego for what it reallyis, Descartesworksthroughthe familiarcatharsisof
sensation,imagination,memory,desire;goesthroughthe obligatorystruggle
with the devil and the temptationsof nihilisticdespair,to the turningpoint
that is a reflection on the capacitiesthat were exercised in his painful
struggle. (Just as Augustine finds the mark of consciencein his capacity
for guilt, so Descartesfinds the sign of the powerof the will in his capacity
for doubt.) And so the Mind that emergesas the real metaphysicalself is
its ideas, and its power-the will's power-to affirmor deny the truth
of its ideas. Of course, ironically,this real mind, this essentialself is not
individuated.The we in the first part of The Meditationsis any rational
mind whatever,without distinctionof person. But if Mind is unindividuated,it neverthelessclaimsa greatdeal.Amongthe centralideasof mind are
the ideas that formulate-that are the formulaeof-the extended body.
The clear and distinct ideas of Mind arenotjust necessarilytrue for what
that might be worth. Despite the fact that the mind and body are two distinct substances, demonstratingthe truths of mathematicalphysics and
engagingin properlyorderedintrospectiveanalysisare one and the same
enterprise.(But Descartes is neither a proto-idealistnor a proto-phenomenologist;nor is he the authorof the first draft of Der LogischeAufbau
der Welt,though he is all three in so far as they can be conceivedto be one
enterprise,none of which is 'reduced'to any of the others. His is the enlightenment project allowing every mind the independent capacity to
discoverobjectivetruth by reflection,without relyingon authority.)
This story, which is presented as the true story of the mind, treats
sensations and memory, desires, sentiments and passions as confused,
untrustworthy.In so far as we form judgments directlyfrom such ideas,
we are misguided.In themselves,they revealneitherthe natureof bodies
nor of our minds. The essentialnatureof mind, as a thinkingthing, would
not be changedif it had no passionsor perceptions(Principles,53). But of
coursewhile the identificationof the ego with the purelyintellectualpowers
is the true story of the mind, it turns out not to be the whole story. For
one thing, the mind discoversthat it has a lot of other ideas besides the
necessarytruths of mathematicsand those of its own operations.So the
questionarises,what is the status of those confusedperceptions,passions,
desires, that it found necessaryto doubt? What is their relation to the
mind as a thinker of necessarytruths? Now while the necessarymathematicalideasof the mindrevealthe structureof extendedbody,they are not
caused by it. They are part of the very structureof the mind and would
exist in it even if the mind were not embodiedor joined to any body. But
passions and perceptualideas representthemselvesto the mind as being
caused by the Other Substance,by Body. And in truth, as God is no
deceiver there must be something to this, even though the passionperceptionsare not to be trusted at face value.
162
This content downloaded from 131.104.62.10 on Tue, 31 Dec 2013 12:16:19 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
From Passions to Emotionsand Sentiments
It is the passions-those ideas which the mind would not have unless it
were united to the body-that with the grace(or more properly,the truthfulness) of God-reveal the second or largerwe in question.As the body's
imprint on the mind, the passionsenlargethe ego. Besides clear and distinct ideas, the understandingalso has representationsfrom the body. The
distinctionbetween mind and body now reappearswithin the mind, as the
distinctionbetweenits actionsand its passions.The mind is passiveto such
ideas, since it receivesthem from the body. They are not its own actions
or its own activity. But this raises some serious problems.What happens
to the claimof the unityof the mindon whichDescartesis stronglyinsistent?
'There is within us but one soul', he says, 'and this soul has not any diversity of parts; the same part that is subject to sense is rationaland all the
soul's appetites are acts of will' (HR I 353). But how is this possible?
There is no problemin thinkingthat the active understandingis a unity;
but if its passions are not necessaryto it and are not, strictly speaking,
parts of it, how does extended mind, which includesthe passionscaused
by the body as well as the actionsof thought, form a unity? How does the
mind's unity extend to the ideas it received from the body? Even if it is
God who assuresthis unity, how does he do it?
To answer this question, we must look more closely at the passions.
There areseveralkindsof passions.Althoughall the passionsenterthe soul
through the intermissionof the nerves-whatever that means-we refer
perceptionsto externalobjects;kinaestheticsensationsto our own bodies;
and passions proper, to the soul. Perceptions are the mind's confused
ideas of the externalobjects that cause them. The kinaestheticand proprioceptivesensations-hunger, thirst, heat, pain-are also ideas of the
soul, passionsin it, caused by, and referringto our own bodies. Like the
ideas of perception,these sensationsconfusedlyrepresentsome particular
bodily conditionthat causes them.
And now, finally, there are the passions proper, passions narrowly
speaking. Joy and grief, hate and love, wonder and desire and all the
indefinitenumberof passionscompoundedfromthese areideasin the soul.
It is the soul and not the body that grieves,fears,loves; but it is the bodyour own body-that producesthese passionsin the soul, in the usual way,
through the nerves and the animalspirits affectingthe pineal gland. But
unlike perceptionsand kinaestheticsensations,the passions do not refer
to or representtheirbodily causes.They are confusedideasthat cannotbecome clearbecausethey are not ideas of anythingin particular.If the mind
is regardedas essentially a truth teller, the passions (at best accidental
products of the interactions of body and mind) are extraneous, even when
they indicate functional states of the body.
Narrowly speaking the passions are functions of functions. When our
bodies interact with other parts of extension they undergo modifications
that enhance or diminish normal functioning. Something impinges on us163
This content downloaded from 131.104.62.10 on Tue, 31 Dec 2013 12:16:19 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
Amelie OksenbergRorty
we see a lion rushingdirectlytowardsus. The nervesand animalspirits
of a boundingtawny
areagitatedin sucha waythat,besidestheperception
ofourthroatsbeingdry,our
andthekinaesthetic
sensations
sinuouscreature,
wealsoregisterfear.In sofarasthepassionscomethrough
handstrembling,
orwithsensations,theyaresentiments,feelings;in so faras theyinterrupt
andchangethe courseof thought,theyareemotions(Art.28). Sincefear
doesnotrepresentits cause,evenin a confusedway,we cannotevenbegin
to try to transformit into a clearand distinctidea,eventhoughwe can
oncein the
be quiteclear(on reflection)thatwe areafraid.Nevertheless,
mind
Instead
of allowing
the
mind,fearconcentrates
quitewonderfully.
the passionsdirectthem
us to pursueourthoughtsin randomassociations,
to whatis useful:we persistin thinkingaboutthe dangerthat confronts
us, we rememberremediesfor such dangers,and formthe appropriate
volontt.As a resultof this concentrated,
fortified,directedassociationof
from
resolve
either
to
flee
whatis dangerous
or to overthe
can
will
ideas,
comeand disarmit. In eithercase,the actionof the mindin willingto
flee or to combatdangercausesa movementin the pinealglandwhich,
by excitingthe animalspiritsand eventuallythe muscles,producesthe
usefulmotion.
appropriate
And so it is for everypassion:whenit appearsin the mind,standardly
with perceptionsand kinaesthetic
in combination
sensations,it produces
a trainof associatedideas,usuallyinitiallydirectedby a desire-itself a
passion-to promotewellbeing.Thereis the mind,full of its ideas:what
to whichof themit will attend?Whenit is engagedin scientific
determines
inquiry,presumablythe will focusesthe mind to attendto those ideas
to the inquiryat hand.Butwhatdetermines
whichareappropriate
which,
of allthe mind'sperceptual
ideas,areatthefocusof its attentionwhenit is
not engagedin inquiry?The answeris: the passions.Not onlyfear,but all
the passions-love,self-esteem,generosity-wonderfully
concentratethe
of
it
direct
the
association
to
think
of
whatis useful.
mind,
ideas,fortifying
the
this
raises
useful
for
what
and
to
But
whom?Cana
again question:
concentrate
the mindon ideasthatproducea desire
passionwonderfully
usefulforthebody,andyet disturbthepurelyintellectualfunctions?Since
thereareas it werethreeof us, or, at anyrate,two whichcanbe regarded
or as conjoined,everypassionis introducedandanalysedas an
separately
idea;andas a physicalcondition;andthenforits usefuleffectson the soul
andon the body.Havinggivena generalcharacterization
of the passions,
Descartesturnsto an accountof the basicsix passions-wonder,joy and
grief, love and hate, and desire-showing in what ideas they consist. He
showshow the indefinitenumberof passionscan be constructedfromthese,
as the associatedobjectis thoughtto be good or harmful,as it is conceived
to be in the past,presentor future;asit is thoughtto be probable,improbable
or necessary;and as we regardourselvesas being able or unableactivelyto
controlthe outcome.
164
This content downloaded from 131.104.62.10 on Tue, 31 Dec 2013 12:16:19 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
From Passions to Emotions and Sentiments
But since the passions are caused by the body, they are also identified
by their characteristicphysicalconditionsand consequences.So Descartes
runs throughall the passionsagain,this time as physicalstates. But this is
not yet enough.We mightjust have two distinctphenomena,passionideas
in the soul, and an odd lot of associatedphysical states. If an individual
is a special union of mind and body, as Descartes thinks he has proven
that we are, more needs to be said. And so Descartesgoes throughthe list
of passions again, showing how their effect on the mind is useful to the
body. But in fact the body would have in any case standardlyproducedthe
motions that are appropriatefor its welfare. Even animalswithout souls
make the appropriateadaptivebodily motionswithout any interventionof
the will: they act as self-regulatingmachines.(In characterizinganimalsas
machines,and the operationsof our own bodies as mechanical,Descartes
is not downgradingthem. On the contrary,a machine'sorganizationis of
the highestfunctionalelegance:the structureand compositionof each part
is fixed by its functionin the whole. Descartes'conceptionof a machinehe standardlyuses clocksas examples-is much closerto our conceptionof
an organismthan one might at first think.) What happens in our case is
that the mind intervenes-the will intervenes-to produce just those
motions which the body standardlydoes itself in any case produce, and
which it could and often does producewithout the interventionof the will.
So it emergesthat the passionsare useful becausethey incite the mind to
think and to persist in thinking a train of thoughts that are useful to the
unionof the soul and body, and they are useful to the bodyas a memberof
that union.
But there is an apparentembarrassment.It turns out that some passions
which are extremelyuseful for the body are disruptiveto the mind and
some passionswhich are highly functionalfor the mind are of minorutility
for the body. For instancehate, fear and grief are extremelyuseful for the
body because they generate protective motions: for sheer survival these
passions are more useful than the pleasantmotions assured by love and
joy. But of courseif the body is sitting on the stove while the mind is thinking deep mathematicalthoughts, hate, fear and grief are distractionsfrom
what is most useful to the mind as mind.For mind as scientificinquirer,
wonder,joy and self-esteemarefar moreuseful. Only if the mind is already
conceived as attachedto the body and needing that body's well-being in
order to get on with thinking, are what we might then call the negative
passionsuseful to the mind; and only if the body is alreadyconceived as
attachedto the mind, are wonder and self-esteemand generosityuseful to
it.
But all this again raises sharp questions about who we really are and how
unified the mind itself is. The passions of self-esteem and generosity
strengthen the mind's proper conception of itself. It is, Descartes says,
one of the most important parts of wisdom to know how and why to esteem
165
This content downloaded from 131.104.62.10 on Tue, 31 Dec 2013 12:16:19 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
Amblie Oksenberg Rorty
oneself. There is only one proper ground for self-esteem (in contrastto
orgueil,gloire and satisfactionde soi mesme):the mind's free will, and the
empirewe have over our volitions. Like other passions,self-esteemincites
the mind to persist in thinking certainthoughts useful to it. In this case,
it focusesour attentionon what is essentialto ourselves,the will's capacity
to elicit ideas and to affirmor deny them. In concentratingour attention
on our real powers, self-esteem promotesthe will's activity, its power to
avoid errorsby refrainingfromjudging, and to avoid disturbingpassions
by redirectingthoughts.
The two stories of the mind are united by the powers of the will. And
it is the will that reconcilesthe diverse evaluationsof the utility of the
passions.The power of the will over the passionsis exactlythe same as its
power over other confused ideas. While it cannot decide not to feel fear,
any morethanit can decidenot to havea particularperceptionor sensation,
it can avoid the consequencesof fear as it avoids makingerroneousperceptualjudgments. It can avoid affirmingthe confusion,and it can elicit
counterbalancingideas. In an exuberant passage, Descartes says that
thereis no mind so weakthat it cannotavoiderror,or so weakthat it cannot
contriveto counterbalancethe turbulentpassionswhen they are not useful
to the mind. So if the body on the stove gets so painfullyhot that douleur
distractsthe mind from its mathematicalresearches,the will must decide
whetherto continueits scientificinquiryor to followthe associationof ideas
engenderedby the passions.And if it does the latter,the will againchooses
whether to affirmor deny the desire to get off the stove. This is a rather
involved way of saying that even when the person is uncomfortable,he is
free to chooseto stay on the stove: that a minded body can checkits reflex
actions in a way that a machine-bodycannot. The passion of self-esteem
reminds the mind to focus on the will's freedom as its essential proper
activity, to remind it that it doesn't have to make false judgments, or to
think fearfuland grievingthoughts in an obsessiveway. A vivid sense of
self-esteemremindsthe mind that even if the body is painfullyhot on the
stove, the body is joined in a substantialunity with the mind. The will can
intervenein such a way that the body need not jump off the stove as if it
were only capableof reflexactions.
II
Notoriously, by the end of Book I of the Treatise, Hume has exposed
the idea of personal identity as a fiction to which no real entity corresponds. His statesmanlike arbitration between the claims of scepticism and
those of common sense led him to deny reason the power to discover-let
alone to be-a causal force of any kind whatsoever. Taken strictly and philosophically the mind is a theatre in which impressions pass . . . without
166
This content downloaded from 131.104.62.10 on Tue, 31 Dec 2013 12:16:19 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
From Passions to Emotions and Sentiments
the theatre.When we look for the origins of the idea of personalidentity,
we find nothing but a series of impressions.What is worse, the contents
of those impressionsseem to have no referenceto the self: try as we may,
we only find hot and cold, light or shade, hate or love. If we except the
passions-the impressionsof reflection-the ingredientscombinedby the
imaginationto form the idea of personalidentity are the same as those
that form our fictions of the continuedidentity of physicalobjects. What
then accountsfor the special characterof the fiction of personalidentity?
Againstthe cautionof the sceptics,commonsense claimsthat a personis a
continuedexistencewith a sense of itself; it is a creatureof thought and
imagination,capableof observation;but it can also act, in a relativelydisinterestedway, on behalfof othersas well as on behalfof its own relatively
distant future. 'There is a distinction', Hume says, 'between personal
identityas regardsthoughtand the imaginationand as regardsour passions
or the concernwe take for ourselves'(T. 256).
Hume proposes to reconcile the claims of philosophicalsceptics with
those of commonsense by admittingthat the idea of self is a fiction constructed by the imagination.But because the passions contributeto the
constructionof that fiction,as it goes beyondthoughtand imagination,the
idea of self is not a merefigmentof the imagination,but a powerfulfiction,
indeed the fiction of an entity with powers. It is pride that, as Hume says,
producesthe idea of self (T. 287). Now one might have thought that pride
presupposesrather than produces the idea of self. And so in a sense it
does. It presupposesthe idea of a continuousautobiography:the bundle
of impressionshas been arrangedby the imaginationto form a single narrativeof a continuouslife, one's own. But that life might still be that of an
observerwithout any concernsfor itself.
It is a brute given, an 'original'fact as Hume calls it, that among the
series of impressionsthere is anger as well as amber, boredomas well as
blue, pride as well as puce. All of these, impressionsof reflectionas well
as impressions of sensation, are psychologically speaking, simply felt
unanalysablequalities (T. 275-277). Taken simply as impressions, no
item in an autobiographyhas any moreweight as one's own than any other.
However vivid he may be, a person of thought and imaginationis flat;
and howevercontinuoushe may imaginehimself to be, no future is more
his own than any other, though certainlysome may be more desirablebecausethey bringmore pleasure.Pride gives this flatnessa third dimension:
the narrativesequenceof impressionsbecomes a mobile sculptureinstead
of a paintedsurface.Now of course amongthe series of impressionsthere
areplentyof impressionsof pleasureand painto move us. We try to capture
and prolongthe passing moment of joy at the sight of light on a leaf; and
when we arepainedby unjustsocialarrangementswe try to remedythem.
But theremust be an explanationof why some pleasuresand pains direct
actionmoreconsistentlyand forcefullythanothers,even when they arenot,
167
This content downloaded from 131.104.62.10 on Tue, 31 Dec 2013 12:16:19 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
Amblie Oksenberg Rorty
on the surfaceof it, our strongestpleasures.The fact is, we do not simply
go for the greatest immediate pleasure, or even the greatest projectible
pleasure;nor do we simply avoid the greatestpains. Reflectionon what
gives us pride providesthe additionalweightingthat turns a mere wanton
into a personof prudence.Why does a persontend his own gardensrather
than the more beautiful and splendid gardens of his neighbour, which
may indeed give him morejoy? If he were merely propelledby the greatest pleasure,he would tend the gardensin the public parks,or those that
most delight him, whereverthey may be, and whosoever'sthey are. It is
becausea personnot only takespleasurefrom his garden,but also pleasure
in the thought that it is his, and further, pleasurablepride in it, that he
tends that garden.Hume does not claim that this is rational;indeed he is
quite clearthat strictlyspeakingit is not. The point is ratherto show that a
person's conceptionof his self is formed by what gives him pride. If he
takes pride in his garden, and if the pleasuresof his garden lead him to
tend it ratherthan those which might give him morejoy, then his fictional
idea of himself is, among other things, a conceptionof himself as owner of
this garden. A person who enjoys his garden, but does not take pride in
it, does not think of himself as: ownerof this garden.
To understandhow pride producesthe idea of the self, it is necessaryto
distinguishit from joy. It goes roughly like this: a person has, as Hume
says, a fine house or family, and he finds that these please him. But he
also takesjoy in seeing light on a leaf, and that joy producesneither pride
nor the idea of self. The pleasurethat a persontakesin his house or family
is howevera doublepleasure.He is pleasedby the house and familyand he
is pleasedby the thoughtthat they are his own. This double pleasure,the
initial pleasurableidea of house or family, and the second pleasurein the
fact that they are one's own, producesthat specialpleasurableimpression,
pride. But someonemight also takejoy in the fact thatjust this impression
of light on a leaf was part of his autobiography.'Wonderful',he might
think, 'that I shouldhave lived to see this.' He might even have the double
pleasurethat the sight is his. If his pleasureis just that of having seen the
shimmeringleaf, his passionis joy. But if he is pleasedthat he is a person
who really knows how to take pleasure in shimmeringleaves, then his
passion is pride: it has producedthe idea of self, the idea of the self as a
sensitive observer. But to explain how pride does-and joy does notproducethe idea of self, we need to distinguishthe conditionsthat attend
the two passions(T. 290-294).
What gives pride is characteristicallyperceived as especially close to
oneself.We judge our qualities,Hume says, moreby comparisonthan from
their real and intrinsic merit: we take pride in what is particularto ourselves or at any rate not very common. Unless we are recoveringfrom an
illness, we do not take pride in the ordinaryability to breathe or walk,
even when doing so gives us great joy. Moreover, what gives pride is
168
This content downloaded from 131.104.62.10 on Tue, 31 Dec 2013 12:16:19 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
From Passions to Emotions and Sentiments
characteristicallyrelatively enduring; and publicly shining and visible,
prized by others. None of this is necessaryfor joy. Finally, general rules
also have as strong an influenceon pride as they do everywhere.We can
take pride in virtue or a possession even when it does not immediately
please, simply because that virtue or possession is standardlya focus of
pride. Independentlyof our pleasures,habitualassociationcan sometimes
producethe passionof pride.
It is now clear why Hume gives pride such pride of place among the
passions.Althoughit does not itself generateany specificmotivesor actions,
it reveals the weights a person assigns to his direct passions, to pleasure
and desire. By showing which pleasuresa person takes to be most closely
his own, priderevealsthose motivatingconcernsthat go beyondimmediate
pleasuresand pains.
Once a sin, the source of all vices, pride is now the foundationof prudence. Yet a prudentpersoncan be a vicious one: his conceptionof himself
is only as sound as the objectsof his pride. Hume gives an accountof what
usually gives pride: virtue, beauty, such externaladvantagesas the antiquity of one's family or the geography of one's native land, property,
and fame (T. 294-328). The story as it has been told so far does not yet
include a critiqueof the objects of pride: we understandits genesis without yet being able to determinewhether it is better or more appropriate
to be proud of one's virtues than of one's garden. We do not know
how to rank or evaluate the varieties of fictional persons that pride can
produce.
In the Essay on the Standardof Taste,Hume gives an account of how
fictionsare evaluated.He remarksthat a consensusamongmen of delicate
sentiment and refined imaginationprovides a standardof judgment for
fictions and for other works of art. Why not also for those other fictions
and artificesof the imagination,amongthem the idea of personalidentity?
This social measure-the judgment of experts on what is useful, pleasing,
beautiful-provides an independent evaluation,though not, to be sure,
a rationalcritique-of the proprietiesof pride. It distinguishesmodesty
from self-abasement, megalomania from proper self-respect. History,
then, is the arbiteramongthe variousproductionsof pride.And the history
of social approbationstrongly suggests, without of course proving, that
virtue is a more appropriatesource of pride than one's garden, however
beautifulthat gardenmay be; and the idea of oneself as a virtuousperson
more appropriatethan the idea of oneself as an owner of this beautiful
garden.Hume does not himself explore the social contributionto the critique of the varietiesof pride. He only mentions, almost in passing, that
becausea conditionof pride is that others must prize its sources,our conceptions of ourselves are partly social constructions.Nor does he make
much of his observation-so crucial to Rousseau-that the social contributionto the fictionalidea of the self alwaysinvolvescomparisons,and that
169
This content downloaded from 131.104.62.10 on Tue, 31 Dec 2013 12:16:19 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
Am6lie Oksenberg Rorty
such comparisonsdo not always select what is genuinely meritorious
(T. 291).
The social contributionto the constructionof the idea of the self that
Hume himself emphasizesis that assuredby the mechanismsof sympathy.
It is to these operationsthat Hume looks for the sources of the idea of
persons as moral, and not only as prudential beings. Here, roughly, is
how it goes. Havingformedsome idea of similaritybetween ourselvesand
others, we discover, as a matter of brute fact, that we are sometimes
affected by the passions we believe them to have (T. 317-322). On the
basis of our observationsof someone's demeanourand behaviour, the
imaginationforms an idea of that person's passion. That idea, now an
idea of one's own, becomes enlivened by the imaginationand the mechanism of sympathyto become an actualimpression,a passionof our own.
The metaphoris musical: our frame resonatesin harmonywith others.
The passion we acquire from them by sympathycan remain ours even
aftertheirs has passed (T. 576).
But of course sympathydoes not assuremorality.It can as easily equip
us with the passionsof villains as with those of virtuous men. Sympathy
only providesthe conditionsfor morality;it cannotassureit. Othercapacities are required. Since sympathy depends on a previous judgment of
similarity,a person has to fix on the appropriateclass of those who are
genuinely relevantlysimilar to himself. This is partly a matter of seeing
throughsuperficialdifferences,and partlya matterof being able to foresee
the consequenceson oneself of the companyone keeps. But also, and quite
centrally, the imaginationshould be able to envisage the conditions of
others in a vivid and detailed way, to form appropriateideas of their
passions.On Hume's account,we only see how othersseemand how they
behave-that they are pale or flushed, that they wring their hands or
clench their fists. The imaginationmoves from such observationsto an
idea of the passions of others. Equipped with all these passions-some
original to ourselves, others acquiredby sympathy,many of them quite
likely to be conflicting-we then take a generalsurvey to determinewhat
conducesto the generalgood, to balancethe passionsthat serve our concerns with those that serve others.Empiricalinvestigationsinto the effects
of various sorts of actions and motives-the judgment of history againhelps to locate, though not to resolve, those conflicts. Such empirical
investigationinto what is likely to promotethe generalgood can inform,
eventhoughit cannotform,the sentimentsthatevaluateactionsandmotives,
our own as well as those of others. After sympathy has done its work, and
after balanced judgment has sorted out the consequences of various passions
acquired by sympathy, we form sentiments of approval and disapproval.
It is a brute fact that we do so, just as it is a brute fact that we have the
passion of pride. These sentiments, the calm passions of benevolence and
the sense of justice can move us in just the same way that other passions
17o
This content downloaded from 131.104.62.10 on Tue, 31 Dec 2013 12:16:19 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
From Passions to Emotions and Sentiments
do. Such passionsneed not be weakbecausethey are calm (T. 419). Moral
indignationand the sense of justice can be powerful enough to set aside
the concernsdiscoveredby pride.
Following Hume's lead, we can say what he does not himself say: just
as pride producesthe idea of self as regardsthe passionsand the concerns
it has for itself, so the calm passions,the sentimentsof approvaland disapproval,benevolenceand the sense of justice, are the ingredientsof the
fictionalidea of self as a civil person with public virtues as well as private
passions.
III
After the zeitgeist has swept by in this way, we might ask what has this
been about?Are there really no facts that constraintheories about the
passions?Is Descartes as right about the fear and the pineal gland, selfesteem and the persistenceof properself-regardingthoughts, as Hume is
about the function of pride? Is there nothing but a series of fictions, a
sort of philosophicalElectiveAffinities,with rarefied protagonistscalled
passions,imagination,person,a sort of late romanticmysteryplay without
a moral?Is it reallytrue that the mind is what it thinks it is and that the
experienceof passions conformsto acceptedtheories?Is the story of the
mind and its powers not merely a fiction, but a self-fulfilling fiction,
joy of every true believer?Well, yes and no. There are somewhereat least
some facts. Descartes could have been more attentiveto Harvey's denial
of animalspirits.And besidesfactstherearealsosome arguments.Spinoza's
criticismsof Descartesare far enough within the theory to be difficultfor
a Cartesianto answer. And besides some facts and some arguments,the
differencebetween barrennessand luxuriant detail can help us to select
amongtheoriesof the passions.While Descartes'theorygives an interesting
account of the intellectualfunctions of the passions, he has no account
at all of their social origins and formation.Although some of the basic
passions are directed to persons, there is in principle no real difference
between loving an object and loving a person. If we are interestedin the
social and political force of the passions, Descartes holds little interest
for us.
One of the reasonsthat the passions are especiallyinteresting,red dye
tracersof the shifts in the mind, is that they are found in that no-man's
land where theories create the experiencesthey describe... and yet also
in that area where there are constraints.We can judge that some extraordinarily ornate and self-fulfilling theories have gone quite haywire.
Contemporary philosophical and psychological debates about the emotions make all this very vivid. There is, as one might expect, combat on
all sides, singularly unreflective polemics about whether the passions are
evaluative judgments or physical states; about whether they can be vol12
171
This content downloaded from 131.104.62.10 on Tue, 31 Dec 2013 12:16:19 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
Am"lie Oksenberg Rorty
untarily controlled; about whether there are some culturally invariant
basic passions;about whether altruismcan be the consequenceof purely
prudentialconsiderationsor whetherit requiresspecial development.One
mightbe temptedto say aboutthese debates:'Disgustingabsurdtheorizing.
Philosophersshould give up their pretensionsat psychologicalspeculation
and turn these issues over to those preparedto do empiricalresearch.'And
certainlythereis somethingto this response.Physiologicalfacts, generalizations in socialpsychology,and cross-culturalcomparisonsare all extremely
important and relevant arbiters at the edges of polemical debates. But
they serve to weed out the field of theories,ratherthan to assurethe final
selection among the strong competitors.Among these, it is not always
clear what the arbitratingtheory-neutralfacts could be. When read fully
and sympathetically,each robust theory comes complete with its own
sustaining facts. Disputes between such theories are reproducedas disputes about how to describe the phenomena.And this is not a verbal
matter that can be straightenedout by a little terminologicalhygiene.
The problemis that our theoriesof the passions-and thus at least some of
our experiencesof what we call emotional states-are formed from the
picturesqueruinsof previousviews. We are a veritablewalkingarchaeology
of abandoned theories, even those that have claimed to vanquish one
another. So with some combination of courage and procrusteanfolly,
a contemporaryphilosophertakes one strand in our complex inheritance
and declaresit to be central.When ChomskyrevivesDescartes,and when,
accordingto some interpreters,Freud revives Rousseau,we find ourselves
simultaneously sympathetic to their claims, and (as our temperaments
dictate)eitheramusedor outragedby the grossneglector denialof opposing
truths. Othervoices that compose our historyremainvocal to protest: it is
these that provideat least some constraintson contemporaryself-fulfilling
prophetictheories. The voices from Descartesto Rousseauare still alive
and well in moderndress,all of them. And of courseit is not only the philosophic voices. Philosophy sometimes begins at home, but with any luck
it doesn'tend there: it moves backand forthto sermons,scientifictreatises,
political rhetoric, poetry and trashy fiction, obituaries that praise and
editorials that blame, and above all the daily gossip that explains the
mysteriousactions of friends and foes. All these, combining theory and
practice as they do, carry our predecessorsalive within them. We carry
all the participantsin foro interno.That is what comes of our being historical creatures,formed by the words of our predecessorsas well as by
The Look of the Other. Not only society, but history with its babble of conflicting tongues remains alive and intact within us.
Institutefor Advanced Study and
Rutgers University
172
This content downloaded from 131.104.62.10 on Tue, 31 Dec 2013 12:16:19 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions