Today’s excerpt is from Adam Smith’s The Theory of Moral Sentiments:
Let us suppose that the great empire of China, with all its myriads of inhabitants, was suddenly swallowed up by an earthquake, and let us consider how a man of humanity in Europe, who had no sort of connection with that part of the world, would be affected upon receiving intelligence of this dreadful calamity. He would, I imagine, first of all, express very strongly his sorrow for the misfortune of that unhappy people, he would make many melancholy reflections upon the precariousness of human life, and the vanity of all the labours of man, which could thus be annihilated in a moment. He would too, perhaps, if he was a man of speculation, enter into many reasonings concerning the effects which this disaster might produce upon the commerce of Europe, and the trade and business of the world in general. And when all this fine philosophy was over, when all these humane sentiments had been once fairly expressed, he would pursue his business or his pleasure, take his repose or his diversion, with the same ease and tranquillity, as if no such accident had happened.
Once again, echoes of Brueghel’s Icarus.
Often when this is gestured at — and I take responsibility for my share — it is with an attitude of disapproval or frustration in our short moral attention spans. Why is it that after any distant tragedy, no matter how large — and amid any arbitrary large status quo of suffering — we are essentially fine moving through our lives as if nothing is wrong? How could we be so shallow?
But maybe this is overly critical.
Maybe there’s something psychologically necessary — healthy even — in our ability to ignore the suffering of others, or at least not feel the full weight of it.
Given our limited emotional capacities, this could even be the right thing to do.