Dear Adam Smith: Carrying My Sorrows
Dear Adam Smith,
Years ago, my husband died suddenly and tragically. We met when I was 17 and were married when I was 18. At my 21st birthday party, he died in a motorcycle accident riding with another friend. My sister was in Europe at the time for business, and she didn’t come home for his funeral, even though they were good friends as well.
I know that this was a long time ago but, sometimes when I think about it, I’m angry at my sister for making that choice. Once she said that it’s what she thought my husband would have wanted. However, I’ve always wondered if maybe it was just what she wanted.*
How can I forgive my sister?
Regretfully,
Carrying My Sorrows
Dear Carrying,
He is a bold surgeon, they say, whose hand does not tremble when he performs an operation upon his own person; and he is often equally bold who does not hesitate to pull off the mysterious veil of self-delusion, which covers from his view the deformities of his own conduct. Rather than see our own behaviour under so disagreeable an aspect, we too often, foolishly and weakly, endeavour to exasperate anew those unjust passions which had formerly misled us; we endeavour by artifice to awaken our old hatreds, and irritate afresh our almost forgotten resentments: we even exert ourselves for this miserable purpose, and thus persevere in injustice, merely because we once were unjust, and because we are ashamed and afraid to see that we were so. (TMS, III.4.4).
It is hard to look at ourselves as an impartial spectator would. We would prefer the world—and most especially our loved ones— to see our weakness as harmless and our follies with indulgence. Your sister may have truly believed that she was doing the right thing. Perhaps you also think you were right to keep this hurt from her to avoid a painful conversation or a rift in your relationship.
This self-deceit, this fatal weakness of mankind, is the source of half the disorders of human life. If we saw ourselves in the light in which others see us, or in which they would see us if they knew all, a reformation would generally be unavoidable. We could not otherwise endure the sight. (TMS, III.4.6)
Our selfish passions often induce us to ignore reality. The more important the decision, the easier it is to be partial toward yourself. After we have acted, we can examine our conduct and endeavor to view it more impartially. You are both older and wiser now and have had time to see more of the world and observe the conduct of others—what kinds of conduct are deserving of praise or censure. By these reflections, and perhaps your sister’s as well, you are both capable of truer self-knowledge and a sincere desire to behave better now and in the future. The stings of remorse and repentance have likely been with you both for a long time. I urge you to soothe each other's stings, do better in the future, and in this serve as an example of virtue to others.
Yours in Fellow-Feeling,
Mr. Smith
Want to Read More?
Russ Roberts, Pigs Don't Fly: The Economic Way of Thinking About Politics (trust us)
Russ Roberts and Michael Munger on How Adam Smith Can Change Your Life, EconTalk podcast
Nir Ben-Moshe, Can We Become the Impartial Spectator?
Dan Klein, Adam Smith on Self-Deceit
Editor's Note: Letters to the "Dear Adam Smith" column are not, of course, answered by Adam Smith. He died in 1790. Letters are answered by Sarah Skwire, Caroline Breashears, Janet Bufton, and Christy Lynn. Advice is for the purposes of amusement and education about Smith's thought. We do our best, but caveat emptor and follow our advice at your own risk.
*This letter in particular was inspired by a story from Russ Roberts’ How Adam Smith Can Change Your Life: An Unexpected Guide to Human Nature and Happiness, Chapter 4, “How Not to Fool Yourself.”
Comments
Peter Brown
O, wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as others see us!
It wad frae monie a blunder free us,
An' foolish notion.
Robert Burns 1786