prior probability

When I endeavour to examine my own conduct, when I endeavour to pass sentence upon it, and either to approve or condemn it, it is evident that, in all such cases, I divide myself, as it were, into two persons; and that I, the examiner and judge, represent a different character from that other I, the person whose conduct is examined into and judged of. The first is the spectator, whose sentiments with regard to my own conduct I endeavour to enter into, by placing myself in his situation, and by considering how it would appear to me, when seen from that particular point of view. The second is the agent, the person whom I properly call myself, and of whose conduct, under the character of a spectator, I was endeavouring to form some opinion. The first is the judge; the second the person judged of. (Adam Smith, Theory of Moral Sentiments, III.i.6)

Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? (Juvenal, Satire VI, lines 347–348)

According to Adam Smith, each person divides himself into two persons. Person #1 is himself (the ego), while Person #2 is an external judge or spectator. Sometimes, Smith refers to this imaginary alter ego as “the man within the breast” (see here, for example), and at other times, he calls him the “impartial spectator” or “supposed impartial spectator” (again, see here). But regardless whether the impartial spectator and the man within the breast are one in the same or are two separate entities (i.e. the key question that my colleagues Daniel Klein, Nicholas Swanson, and Jeffrey Young recently brought to my attention and that I have been writing about this past week), I will now conclude my series on Adam Smith’s impartial spectator with a totally different question: who spectates the impartial spectator? That is, if each person has an internal man within his breast inside him, and if each person’s moral decisions are reviewed by this man within his breast, and (assuming the impartial spectator and the man within the breast are two distinct entities) if this man within the breast is, in turn, checked by a higher-level impartial spectator, then who checks the impartial spectator?

Nota bene: a Rube Goldberg machine is an elaborate chain-reaction-type contraption intentionally designed to perform a simple task in a comically overcomplicated way. 

I concluded my previous post by asking whether the man within the breast and the impartial spectator in Adam Smith’s Theory of Moral Sentiments (TMS) are two separate and distinct entities or whether they are just two different ways of saying the same thing. For reference, let’s call the first possibility “the two-tiered impartial spectator thesis” and let’s call the second possibility “the unitary impartial spectator thesis“.

Let’s assume, for the sake of argument, that Adam Smith indeed proposed a two-tiered system of moral scrutiny in which the man within the breast (the agent) acts as the representative or agent of the impartial spectator (the principal). On one level (the ground-level, so to speak), every man, woman, and child in the world has his or her own individual “man withing the breast” somewhere deep inside them, but on another level (the sky level), there is a global, godlike, and all-seeing impartial spectator, the ultimate moral judge or ethics tribunal from which there is no appeal. If this two-tiered schema is what Smith really had in mind when he revised TMS in 1790, then notice how this method of making moral judgments actually involves three separate actors in all!

1. First off, we have the main subject, a flesh-and-blood person (man, woman, or child) who is deciding on some course of action or inaction, as the case may be.
2. Next, we have the subject’s “man within the breast” (one’s “inner voice” or conscience), who acts as the impartial spectator’s representative.
3. Last but not least, we have the man-within-the-breast’s principal, the impartial spectator, who presumably has the final say on moral matters.

How plausible is this picture, this two- or three-tiered Rube-Goldberg-like system of morality? What, for example, is the division of labor between the impartial spectator (the big man) and the man within the breast (the agent)? Perhaps the job of the imaginary big man is to act as an arbiter: he steps in and calls the shots only when the subject and the man within the breast disagree on the morality of some course of action. Or maybe the role of the impartial spectator is to monitor collusion. On this view, the big man comes into play when the subject and the man within the breast try to collude together to justify some wrongful act. 

Alas, this two-tier picture of moral judgment has a blind spot: why should we listen to the impartial spectator in the first place? Also, why do we need two separate entities — the impartial spectator and the man within the breast; the big man and his agent — to pass judgment on the morality of our actions? I will conclude with some final thoughts in my next post …

As I mentioned earlier this month, my colleagues Daniel Klein, Nicholas Swanson, and Jeffrey Young (KSY) have published a new paper in Econ Journal Watch, and their paper caught my attention because it’s about the impartial spectator in Adam Smith’s Theory of Moral Sentiments (TMS). To the point, KSY claim that this imaginary being is “a universal beholder” who boasts “superhuman knowledge and universal benevolence” (KSY 2025, p. 297). In plain English, the impartial spectator is a deity or some other make-believe godlike entity they call Joy.

Furthermore, in support of this theistic interpretation of Smith’s impartial spectator, KSY put all of their argumentative eggs into one basket: TMS 215.11 or paragraph 11 of page 215 of the Glasgow edition of The Theory of Moral Sentiments. (As an aside, the standard citation of TMS 215.11 would be “TMS, VI.i.11” because this “smoking gun” passage appears in paragraph 11 of chapter 1 of Book 6 of TMS.) Why do Klein, Swanson, and Young put so much weight on this one passage? Because it is in TMS 215.11 (TMS, VI.i.11) where Smith describes the man within the breast as the “representative” of the impartial spectator!

But why, in turn, is this description of the man within the breast in TMS 215.11 such a big deal? Because Smith uses these two terms (the man within the breast and the impartial spectator) interchangeably in the rest of TMS! This discrepancy thus poses a puzzle: is the man within the breast an agent or representative of the impartial spectator? In other words, are they really two separate entities, as implied by TMS 215.11 (TMS, VI.i.11)? Or are they equivalents, i.e. two different ways of saying the same thing?

In short, is it possible to reconcile this discrepancy? If so, how do we square KSY’s interpretation with the rest of TMS? (Or do we square the rest of TMS with KSY’s “smoking gun” passage?) Stay tuned, I will address these key questions in my next post …

One of Adam Smith’s most original ideas in The Theory of Moral Sentiments (TMS) is the “impartial spectator”, but who (or what) is this perplexing and puzzling observer? Thus far, we have seen how the Scottish philosopher refers to this mystery man/enigmatic entity as an arbiter, examiner, and judge (see here), and we have also seen how he uses such jurisprudential words as appeal, judgment, and sentence to describe the workings of this imaginary magistrate (here). But is Smith’s impartial spectator a god, maybe even the all-powerful Christian God?

No, he is not. (Sorry, KSY!) Although Adam Smith uses the words “great judge” multiple times in TMS to refer both to the deity and to the impartial spectator, the Scottish moral philosopher always capitalizes the word Judge when referring to God. For textual reference, quoted below are all seven instances in TMS where Smith uses the phrase “great judge”/”great Judge”:

1. TMS, II.iii.2: “the great Judge of hearts” = “the Author of nature” = [God]

Actions, therefore, which either produce actual evil, or attempt to produce it, and thereby put us in the immediate fear of it, are by the Author of nature rendered the only proper and approved objects of human punishment and resentment. Sentiments designs, affections, though it is from these that according to cool reason human actions derive their whole merit or demerit, are placed by the great Judge of hearts beyond the limits of every human jurisdiction, and are reserved for the cognizance of his own unerring tribunal. (TMS, II.iii.2)

2. TMS, III.ii.32: “a much higher tribunal” and “the great judge and arbiter of [mankind’s] conduct” = “the supposed impartial and well-informed spectator” = “the man within the breast”

But though man has, in this manner, been rendered the immediate judge of mankind, he has been rendered so only in the first instance; and an appeal lies from his sentence to a much higher tribunal, to the tribunal of their own consciences, to that of the supposed impartial and well-informed spectator, to that of the man within the breast, the great judge and arbiter of their conduct.

3. TMS, III.iii.4: “the great judge and arbiter of our conduct” = “the inhabitant of the breast, the man within”

It is not the soft power of humanity, it is not that feeble spark of benevolence which Nature has lighted up in the human heart, that is thus capable of counteracting the strongest impulses of self-love. It is a stronger power, a more forcible motive, which exerts itself upon such occasions. It is reason, principle, conscience, the inhabitant of the breast, the man within, the great judge and arbiter of our conduct. It is he [the man within the breast] who, whenever we are about to act so as to affect the happiness of others, calls to us, with a voice capable of astonishing the most presumptuous of our passions, that we are but one of the multitude, in no respect better than any other in it; and that when we prefer ourselves so shamefully and so blindly to others, we become the proper objects of resentment, abhorrence, and execration.

4. TMS, III.iii.43: “the great Judge of the universe” = “that Divine Being” = [God]

A true party-man hates and despises candour; and, in reality, there is no vice which could so effectually disqualify him for the trade of a party-man as that single virtue. The real, revered, and impartial spectator, therefore, is, upon no occasion, at a greater distance than amidst the violence and rage of contending parties. To them [the contending parties of politics], it may be said, that such a spectator scarce exists any where in the universe. Even to the great Judge of the universe, they impute all their own prejudices, and often view that Divine Being as animated by all their own vindictive and implacable passions. Of all the corrupters of moral sentiments, therefore, faction and fanaticism have always been by far the greatest.

5. TMS, VI.ii.1.22: “the great judge and arbiter of our conduct” = the man within the breast = the supposed impartial spectator

In what cases friendship ought to yield to gratitude, or gratitude to friendship; in what cases the strongest of all natural affections ought to yield to a regard for the safety of those superiors upon whose safety often depends that of the whole society; and in what cases natural affection may, without impropriety, prevail over that regard; must be left altogether to the decision of the man within the breast, the supposed impartial spectator, the great judge and arbiter of our conduct. If we place ourselves completely in his situation, if we really view ourselves with his eyes, and as he views us, and listen with diligent and reverential attention to what he suggests to us, his voice will never deceive us. We shall stand in need of no casuistic rules to direct our conduct.

6. TMS, VI.iii.1: “the great judge and arbiter of conduct” = the supposed impartial spectator = the great inmate of the breast

Regard to the sentiments of other people, however, comes afterwards both to enforce and to direct the practice of all those virtues; and no man during, either the whole of his life, or that of any considerable part of it, ever trod steadily and uniformly in the paths of prudence, of justice, or of proper beneficence, whose conduct was not principally directed by a regard to the sentiments of the supposed impartial spectator, of the great inmate of the breast, the great judge and arbiter of conduct. If in the course of the day we have swerved in any respect from the rules which he prescribes to us; if we have either exceeded or relaxed in our frugality; if we have either exceeded or relaxed in our industry; if, through passion or inadvertency, we have hurt in any respect the interest or happiness of our neighbour; if we have neglected a plain and proper opportunity of promoting that interest and happiness; it is this inmate who, in the evening, calls us to an account for all those omissions and violations, and his reproaches often make us blush inwardly both for our folly and inattention to our own happiness, and for our still greater indifference and inattention, perhaps, to that of other people.

7. TMS, VI.iii.25: “the great demigod within the breast, the great judge and arbiter of conduct”

The wise and virtuous man directs his principal attention to the first standard; the idea of exact propriety and perfection. There exists in the mind of every man, an idea of this kind, gradually formed from his observations upon the character and conduct both of himself and of other people. It is the slow, gradual, and progressive work of the great demigod within the breast, the great judge and arbiter of conduct.

To recap, Smith conjoins the words great and judge multiple times in TMS to refer to no less than three different entities! Sometimes, Smith’s “great Judge” (with a capital “J”) refers to the “author of nature” or “Divine Being”, i.e. God. (See passages 1 and 4 above.) At other times, however, this “great judge” (lower case “j”) simply refers to “the inhabitant of the breast, the man within”, i.e. our inner voice or conscience. (See, for example, passage 3 above.) But most of the time, Smith uses the words “great judge” to refer not only to the man or “inmate” within the breast but also to “the supposed impartial spectator.” In this set of passages (see passages 2, 5, 6, and 7 above), Smith equates the “supposed impartial spectator” with the man within the breast.

In short, Smith’s “supposed impartial spectator” is not God. He is the man within the breast, and the role of this imaginary magistrate is to judge the morality of our actions. But is there a higher-level impartial spectator, separate from Smith’s “supposed impartial spectator” or man within the breast? My colleagues Daniel Klein, Nicholas Swanson, and Jeffrey Young (KSY) say there is (see here) based (mostly) on a single passage in TMS (TMS, VI.i.11). Stay tuned, for I will revisit that crucial passage in my next post …

Correction (10/22): Based on the textual analysis of TMS in my 22 October blog post, I have to update my 21 October post below. To the point, I now see that Adam Smith is using the same set of metaphors (judge and tribunal) to refer to two different entities: (a) to the impartial spectator or man within the breast (Smith uses both of these terms interchangeably), and (b) to the deity/God, depending on whether the word judge is capitalized or not. If it is not capitalized (as in the first of the two TMS passages quoted below), Smith is referring to the impartial spectator/man within the breast. If, however, Judge appears with a capital “J” (as in the second TMS passage quoted below), Smith is referring to God.

In my previous post, we saw how Adam Smith describes the impartial spectator as an “examiner and judge” (TMS, III.i.6) as well as a “great judge and arbiter” (TMS, III.iii.4). But is this imaginary magistrate an external entity, a deity or supreme being (God), or is he just a mental or internal process, a fiction of our moral imaginations (our conscience)? As it happens, Smith uses many other legal locutions — such as the words “appeal”, “judgment”, “sentence”, and “tribunal” — to describe the workings of his impartial spectator:

“But though man has, in this manner, been rendered the immediate judge of mankind, he has been rendered so only in the first instance; and an appeal lies from his sentence to a much higher tribunal, to the tribunal of their own consciences, to that of the supposed impartial and well-informed spectator, to that of the man within the breast, the great judge and arbiter of their conduct.” (TMS, III.ii.32)

“In such cases [i.e. when people think we are guilty of an offense we, in fact, did not commit] the only effectual consolation of [a] humbled and afflicted man lies in an appeal to a still higher tribunal, to that of the all-seeing Judge of the world, whose eye can never be deceived, and whose judgments can never be perverted. A firm confidence in the unerring rectitude of this great tribunal, before which his innocence is in due time to be declared, and his virtue to be finally rewarded, can alone support him under the weakness and despondency of his own mind, under the perturbation and astonishment of the man within the breast, whom nature has set up as, in this life, the great guardian, not only of his innocence, but of his tranquillity.” (TMS, III.ii.33)

In addition, Smith uses yet another legal term to compare and contrast “[t]he jurisdiction of the man without”, i.e. the point of view of the flesh-and-bones man who is being judged, and “[t]he jurisdiction of the man within”, i.e. that of the judge (TMS III.iii.5, my emphasis). The word “jurisdiction” is telling here, as this is a legal term of art that refers to the authority of a court or judge to decide a case or controversy.

But is Smith using these legal terms in a metaphorical or in a literal sense? Our original question is still on the table: is Smith’s moral magistrate more like a divine judge (perfect and infallible), or is he more like a common law judge (well-informed but imperfect)? In short, what kind of judge/tribunal is the impartial spectator? (To be continued …)

One of Adam Smith’s most original — and mysterious — ideas in The Theory of Moral Sentiments (TMS) is the impartial spectator. But who or what is this enigmatic entity? My interpretation is based on the actual text of Smith’s first magnum opus. To the point, the Scottish philosopher describes his imaginary being as an “examiner and judge”, a “great judge and arbiter”, and an “awful and respectable judge” in three separate passages of TMS. For reference, all three passages are reproduced below:

“When I endeavour to examine my own conduct, when I endeavour to pass sentence upon it, and either to approve or condemn it, it is evident that, in all such cases, I divide myself, as it were, into two persons; and that I, the examiner and judge, represent a different character from that other I, the person whose conduct is examined into and judged of.” (TMS, III.i.6)

“It is reason, principle, conscience, the inhabitant of the breast, the man within, the great judge and arbiter of our conduct.” (TMS, III.iii.4)

“The man of real constancy and firmness, the wise and just man …. has been in the constant practice, and, indeed, under the constant necessity, of modelling, or of endeavouring to model, not only his outward conduct and behaviour, but, as much as he can, even his inward sentiments and feelings, according to those of this awful and respectable judge. He does not merely affect the sentiments of the impartial spectator. He really adopts them. He almost identifies himself with, he almost becomes himself that impartial spectator, and scarce even feels but as that great arbiter of his conduct directs him to feel.” (TMS, III.iii.25)

In short, the impartial spectator is first and foremost a judge. But what kind of judge? Is he (or she!) more like a divine judge, i.e. one that is perfect and infallible, or is he more like a common law judge, one that is impartial and well-informed but imperfect? (To be continued …)

Last month (September 2025), my colleagues Daniel Klein, Nicholas Swanson, and Jeffrey Young (KSY) published a new paper on Adam Smith’s impartial spectator in the most recent issue of Econ Journal Watch. In summary, KSY claim that Smith’s imaginary spectator is not only a godlike “beholder”; he is also an external entity. That is, according to KSY, this godlike figure is not the same thing as our inner voice or conscience: Smith’s impartial spectator and his “man within the breast” are two different beings or entities. In reply, I wrote up a six-part critique of KSY’s theistic interpretation of the impartial spectator, but what is my take on Smith’s imaginary spectator? Or as we like to say in academia, [*] “it takes a theory to beat theory“! So, starting on Monday (20 Oct.), I will make the case for why Smith most likely modelled his impartial spectator not on a god or deity but rather on a common law judge or juror.

* But, ahem, see this serpentine critique of the “it takes a theory to beat a theory” aphorism.

Nota bene: this is my last blog post (for now) on “the paradox of politics”.

In my previous post, we saw James Madison’s ingenious solution to the problem of factions and the tyranny of public opinion: more factions, more opinions — “extend the sphere” in order to allow for more factions and for more opinions so that they all cancel each other out. But does this Madisonian solution really work? Take, for example, the last sentence of the next-to-last paragraph of Federalist #10 (reprinted in Cohen 2018, p. 326). There, Madison provides three specific examples of “improper or wicked” projects that he hopes his extended sphere will avoid:

“A rage for paper money, for an abolition of debts, for an equal division of property, or for any other improper or wicked project, will be less apt to pervade the whole body of the Union than a particular member of it; in the same proportion as such a malady is more likely to taint a particular county or district, than an entire State.” (p. 326)

Paper money, the abolition of debts, and an equal division of property! The irony of these particular examples cannot be denied. Paper money? Check what’s in your wallet or purse! Abolition of debts? Our previous president, Joe Biden, approved a total of $188.8 billion in student loan forgiveness for 5.3 million borrowers while he was in office. (See here, for example.) An equal division of property? A new generation of populist politicians, like NYC mayoral candidate Zohran Mamdani, have proposed a “wealth tax” on millionaires (see here), and what is a wealth tax but yet another step toward socialism?

Above and beyond these three examples, I will conclude this series of blog posts on the paradox of politics with a contemporary example of Madison’s extended sphere: social media. Platforms like Facebook and Instagram contain a cacophony of voices; they are the ultimate extended sphere. But does social media make us or the world better? Should we censor or “regulate” social media platforms (see here, for a recent example) to weed out all the false, dangerous, or harmful content one finds there, or do censorship and regulation produce worse outcomes than the evils they are designed to remedy? All I can say (for now) is that the law-liberty dilemma is alive and well in the 21st century!

Nota bene: this is the eighth of a series of blog posts on “the paradox of politics”.

“By a faction, I understand a number of citizens, whether amounting to a majority or a minority of the whole, who are united and actuated by some common impulse of passion, or of interest, adversed to the rights of other citizens, or to the permanent and aggregate interests of the community.” –James Madison, Federalist #10

By now, the identity of X should be obvious to all: he is none other than James Madison. Although this founding father has many achievements to his name — he was elected the fifth president of the United States, served as secretary of state to the fourth president (Thomas Jefferson), drafted the bill of rights, and was the unofficial secretary of the constitutional convention of 1787 — his greatest legacy and claim to fame was his co-authorship (with John Jay and Alexander Hamilton) of the Federalist Papers.

In my previous post, I extended Madison’s famous definition of factions (quoted above) in Federalist #10 to encompass Hume’s emphasis on public opinion as the invisible social glue that keeps governments, whether despotic or democratic, in power. After all, what is a faction but a group of people with a shared opinion about some matter of private or public interest? In short, the relationship between factions and public opinion is a symbiotic one.

Either way, whether our focus (like Madison’s) is on factions or (like Hume’s) on public opinion, let’s recall why factions are so dangerous. They are, in the eloquent words of Madison, “mortal diseases” that generate nothing but “instability, injustice, and confusion.” (pp. 321-322) But at the same time, factions will always arise in a free society: “Liberty is to faction what air is to fire, an aliment without which it instantly expires.” (p. 322) I like to call this tension between factions and liberty Madison’s dilemma: how do we control factions — and avoid the tyranny of public opinion — without getting ridding of liberty?

One possible solution is the election of a man like George Washington, a great statesman who is able to balance the interests of competing factions and bend public opinion toward the common good, but as Madison correctly notes, don’t hold your breath: “It is in vain to say that enlightened statesmen will be able to adjust these clashing interests, and render them all subservient to the public good. Enlightened statesmen will not always be at the helm.” (p. 323)

Madison’s solution to the problem of factions — and to the tyranny of public opinion more generally — is a structural one: regardless of who is in power, if a faction or opinion consists of less than a majority, ordinary politics will keep such activist groups, however vocal, in check. Or in the immortal words of James Madison: “relief is supplied by the republican principle, which enables the majority to defeat its sinister views by regular vote.” (p. 323) Although such vocal activist groups might be able to stir up some trouble, they lack the votes to carry out their nefarious schemes: “[They] may clog the administration, [they] may convulse the society; but [they] will be unable to execute and mask [their] violence under the forms of the Constitution.” (ibid.)

But what happens when a majority is included in a faction? That is, what happens when public opinion is in agreement with the nefarious plans of some specific faction? It is here where Madison’s full genius is on full display. His proposed solution is so elegant and original — and yet so counterintuitive — that I will quote it in full:

“Extend the sphere, and you take in a greater variety of parties and interests; you make it less probable that a majority of the whole will have a common motive to invade the rights of other citizens; or if such a common motive exists, it will be more difficult for all who feel it to discover their own strength, and to act in unison with each other. Besides other impediments, it may be remarked that, where there is a consciousness of unjust or dishonorable purposes, communication is always checked by distrust in proportion to the number whose concurrence is necessary.” (p. 325)

In other words, Madison’s ingenious solution to the problem of factions — and to the tyranny of public opinion — is … wait for it … more factions, more opinions! To paraphrase Mao, let a thousand factions bloom! Why? Because the more factions and niche opinions there are, the more difficult it will be for any one specific faction or opinion to crowd out and dominate the rest.

But what does this Madisonian solution to the problem of factions have to do with the paradox of politics, i.e. with the tension between law and liberty? Everything! After all, all laws are restrictions of liberty, but under Madison’s “extend the sphere” solution, no law will be enacted unless a sufficient number of factions are able to join forces in support of such law. But in the process of joining forces and forming strategic alliances, the leaders of these factions — i.e. the demagogues and opportunists who shape public opinion — will have to compromise in order to secure enough support to get their preferred policies and measures enacted.

In short, it is this Madisonian process of compromise, the give-and-take of negotiation and alliance-formation, that keeps the ever-present dangers of factions and public opinion in check. But is Madison’s ingenious solution to the paradox of politics still relevant to our world? Even before the election (and re-election!) of Donald J. Trump, our national government has grown to monstrous proportions, a monetary Leviathan indeed. According to the Department of Treasury (see here), for example, the federal government spent $6.75 trillion in fiscal year 2024, or almost one-fourth (23%) of our entire GDP (gross domestic product)! I will conclude my series on the paradox of politics with some closing thoughts in my next post.