Mabbott - Prudence

Symposium: Prudence
Author(s): J. D. Mabbott and H. J. N. Horsburgh

Source: Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, Supplementary Volumes, Vol. 36 (1962), pp.
51-76
Published by: Wiley on behalf of The Aristotelian Society
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PRUDENCE
By MR. J. D. MABBOTT AND MR. H. J. N. HORSBURGH
I-J. D. MABBOTT
In Part I of this paper I try to show that the characteristic

we call prudence involves a kind of thinking which has escaped
the attention of the classic authorities on thought and action.
In Part II I deal with the question whether and why prudence
is morally commendable.
I-Prudence What
By derivation a prudent man is one who looks to the future.

Is it enough if he subordinates a present to a long-term interest ?
No, for we should not call him prudent if he were saving on
his drinks today in order to bribe an official next week, or
denying himself comforts in pursuit of a plan of revenge. Is
this because 'prudent' has a flavour of approval and in these
cases we disapprove of the long-term purposes? Not entirely,
for we should also refuse the title 'prudent' to a man who
denied himself to-day in order to afford later a very expensive
luxury or the Lancastrian who saves throughout the year so as
to blow the proceeds in one glorious ' Wakes week ' in Blackpool.
Is this because these two long-term ends (the luxury and the
'Wakes week') while not morally inacceptable are themselves
examples of improvidence ? And would that be because there
were some even more distant ends which these expenditures
would render unattainable ? But now we would seem to have
embarked on a regress whereby the only really prudent man
would be one who pursued as his final goal the payment of his
own funeral expenses, or like that provident Head of an Oxford
College, for whom the memorial proposed was ' a sum of money
to be collected from his friends and invested at compound
interest'. The simple distinction between short-term and
long-term does not seem to help.
D2
52 J. D. MABBOTT
Is it then something in the nature of the long-term ends

pursued which justifies the appellation 'prudent '? In most
cases the term is associated with the saving of money. Not
always, however, for the pursuit of health or security would
be examples of prudence too. But the miser, the hypochondriac
and the anxiety-neurotic would not be called prudent; yet they
are par excellence the chasers of money, health and security.
The money getter (or saver) whom we call prudent is not the
mean or stingy man, but the man for whom money is a means
to the satisfaction of other desires. Similarly with the pursuit
of health. The prudent man is neither the hypochondriac nor
the physical fitness fanatic. Prudent men avoid illness not
merely because of the pain they will suffer-though in some
cases this consideration may be dominant. The ordinary
illnesses-chills, bronchitis, rheumatism-are disliked because
they are frustrating and incapacitating. They ensure that for a
week or a fortnight a man will be unable to do any of the things
he wants to do (except perhaps to read 'War and Peace').
Health is pursued because the lack of it, like the lack of money,
frustrates a wide range of desires and purposes. Security too
may be desired for its own sake by the timid or anxious man,
but the prudent man pursues it as the condition necessary for
the achievement of all the ends of civilization.
We thought the prudent man might be marked out by the
kind of long-term ends he pursues. But it now appears that he
pursues his special objective, money or health or security, as
means to the satisfaction of a wide range of desires. The plural
'desires' is essential, for the man who pursues money for a
single end-revenge or a Rolls Royce-is not called prudent.
But plurality is not enough. A man who wins a prize in a
Football Pool and spends it all on a Rolls Royce except for ?25
which he sets aside for other possible long-term purposes is not
prudent. What seems to be required is a balance or proportion
between the objectives for whose sake the money or health or
security is required. In this balancing the avoidance of pain
from disease or death will have their place but a place limited
by relation to other objectives. For it might be prudent
to prefer a short but painful cure to a long but painless
PRUDENCE 53
convalescence, and it is possible ' propter vitam vivendi perdere

causas '.
So far, I think, I have done no more than to indicate some
obvious criteria for the use of 'prudent'. It is more open to
question, however, whether the interests whose balanced con-
sideration exhibits prudence include only future or long-term
interests, or short-term and immediate objectives also. Should
we call a man prudent who denied himself all present luxuries
and some present necessities so as to have resources for the
future or provision for his old age? We might hesitate here
because 'prudent' is a term of approval and we should not
approve of a man whose birds are all in the bush. On the
other hand the term is so dominated by its derivation that we
do not readily associate it with the satisfaction of pressing or
immediate desires. We tend also to link it with reasoning and
we do not count the influence of present desires as a mark of
reason.
It is to be noted also that there are several possible meanings

of 'long-term desire'. To say that I have a long-term desire
may mean that I have now a desire which I am aware can be
satisfied only in the distant future, like the boy who says ' I want
to be an engine-driver'. Or it may mean that I can now foresee
that I shall have a desire for something later on though I do not
have the desire now. In this case I can now take steps to ensure
that when the desire does arise I shall be able to satisfy it. This
is the case of a man who puts an apple in his pocket when he
goes for a walk. He may come back with it still there because
the hunger he expected did not occur. Thirdly it may mean
that I can now foresee that, unless I take certain steps, I shall
have a desire, but that if I do take these steps I shall not have
the desire at all. Here in the strict sense of 'anticipate' I
anticipate the desire, that is, I avert its occurrence. Most
people eat meals at regular times whether they are hungry or
not. They anticipate hunger. A man may say to himself 'If
I marry I shall need to provide some security for my wife ', so
he takes out a life insurance policy. He does not now desire
security for his wife, for he has no wife; nor after his marriage
will he desire security for her, for he will have already ensured it.
These two latter activities-planning to satisfy desires I do not
54 J. D. MABBOTT
have but expect to have and planning to avoid having such

desires (to satisfy desires I never have at all)-are peculiar to
rational beings which 'look before and after', and those
plannings make up a principal part of prudence.
It is interesting also to note how far they take us from the
ordinary Humian analysis of the process of decision as a conflict
between desires. For it is a very odd trial of strength between
a desire I have and one I do not have but expect to have or
between a desire I have and one I never have at all-like an
actual boxing match between a real boxer and an imaginary
boxer. Yet this is the kind of decision one makes between
spending and saving or spending and life insurance.
It is also necessary here to recognize the complexity of
decision and not to regard it as a choice between two alternatives,
as Hume suggests. Sir David Ross, in Foundations of Ethics,
rightly emphasizes this complexity. He speaks of' the universe
of our interests' and of the relation between one desire and the
whole 'system of desires'. On his view each desire has at any
given time a determinate degree of strength, and my choice is
the resultant of all these interacting forces, but with one proviso,
that 'a self is able, as a mechanical system is not, to suppress
altogether some of its desires '. What I do is the result of the
strongest desire or set of desires and the strength of this set will
be largely determined by the nature of the universe of my interests
-that is, my relatively permanent desires.
Now I am not concerned here with the deterministic character
of this analysis but with the additions and amendments to it
needed in order to accommodate the planning activities which I
have described above and which prudence involves. Ross talks
of the universe of my interests and of the system of my desires,
but his detailed discussions do not develop these ideas and I
wish to emphasize them. 'Universe' and 'system' suggest a
unitary structure or pattern and Ross writes as if my desires
just had this pattern. But it seems to me that such a pattern
or structure can be achieved only by nurture or by the exercise
of prudence. It is possible within narrow limits and in a static
and rigid society for a human being to be so conditioned that his
desires form a system. He can be trained not to want such
PRUDENCE 55
things as would disrupt the system (drugs, for example) by

having them kept from him. He can be trained not to have
ideas above his station. The institutions in which he is brought
up can ensure that his desires are compatible or even reinforce
one another, so that pride in his work makes for the support of
his children and fear of God for love of his neighbour. But
such social conditioning is incomplete even when conditions are
most favourable to it; in an ' open society' such as ours it can
never be more than rudimentary. The individual then is not
given a system or universe of desires; he has to make it. And
the making is largely the work of prudence. A universe of desires
is a condition in which desires are related by mutual compati-
bility, by mutual support (if I get A I shall get B too), by means
and ends relations (I want C for itself but it is also a means to
D which I want also). The process by which this systematic
pattern is achieved is poles apart from the interplay of forces
suggested by Ross. It is not even well described as a process
in which the agent balances or weighs the desires or so manipu-
lates them that they fit together, like a man solving a jig-saw
puzzle. The process of harmonizing does not work directly on
the desires at all. The thinking or planning required concerns
itself with the states of affairs desired or those needed to bring
about those states of affairs. In the simplest case of all-the
achievement of compatibility-two desires which would other-
wise conflict are harmonized by a plan which places the states
of affairs which would satisfy them at different times. In this
way I may now satisfy the weaker of two desires and give the
stronger a promissory note. Time-planning in general is the
fitting into a limited time-a busy day or a short holiday-of all
the doings we desire to achieve. It is obvious that this is not a
direct operation with the desires themselves, for I can plan
someone else's day for him if I know what his desires are, or a
travel agency can plan his holiday if he tells them what he wishes
to fit in.
The process of fitting in the satisfactions of a number of
desires may involve cutting them down to size, eliminating some
and reducing others. This is really an extension of a special
use of reason which even Hume admits, though it contradicts
56 J. D. MABBOTT
his principle that 'nothing can oppose or retard the impulse

of a passion but a contrary impulse'. The other uses of reason
Hume cites certainly fit well with this dictum. Reason may
show how to satisfy an existing desire, or it may ' stimulate' or
'prompt' or bring into active operation a disposition or latent
desire. An 'unreasonable action' in these senses could mean
either an action ill-adapted to satisfy an existent desire or an
action which would involve the loss of an object which would
have been desired if reason had pointed out the risk and brought
the desire into play. The exceptional case is described by Hume
as follows. 'An affection may be called unreasonable . .. when
it is founded on the supposition of the existence of objects which
do not really exist . . . The moment we perceive the falsehood
of any supposition our passions yield to our reason without any
opposition'. Thus reason alone without any contrary impulse
can not only oppose or retard a passion but can kill it stone-dead.
This is the point of Ross's admission that a self can ' suppress
altogether' some of its desires. Perhaps Hume was over-
generous here. He should have said that reason usually elimin-
ates the passion (or would do so if the agent were reasonable).
Show a sensible man that the job he desires has already been
filled and he will cease to desire it. But show a child that there
is nothing in the dark corner and its fear is not always dispelled.
A tremor may remain. So too in the case of planning, when
reason shows that the satisfaction of a particular desire cannot
be fitted into the holiday timetable-to the total state of affairs
satisfying as many desires as possible-and that desire ceases
and is eliminated. When some other desire can be given only a
limited satisfaction consistently with the general plan the desire
for more than that partial satisfaction disappears.
The thinking involved in such planning has most of the features
required by scientific or philosophical thought, liveliness of
imagination, fertility of invention, a firm grip of facts and
possibilities, and the power of relevant and controlled hypo-
thetical thinking. This then is the kind of thinking prudence
involves. It has gained little attention from philosophers. Hume
neglects it altogether and Butler and Kant both confuse it with
the pursuit of happiness.
PRUDENCE 57
II--Prudence and Morality
Not all planning for the future would count as prudence. A

millionaire's careful disposition of his charitable benefactions
would not do so. Prudence is normally taken to concern only
the private interests of the agent. A man does not show prudence
by selling all he has and giving the proceeds to the poor. There
are some borderline cases-a prudent father saving for his
children's education, or a prudent statesman planning for his
country's economic needs. But perhaps the use of prudence
here rests on personification of the family or the State as units
with their own private interests and the agent as their organ or
instrument.
But the ethical problem is at once apparent. Prudence is
regarded as a virtue and blame is allotted to imprudence. Yet
if prudence is merely enlightened self-interest, why should this
be so? As for imprudence, just as in those other cases of
unreason analysed by Hume, we should surely keep morals out
of it. A man who hopes to be re-elected to Parliament but does
not subscribe to local charities may be silly but is not morally
blameworthy. A man who fails to recognize that if he spreads
gossip he will be unpopular or one who hankers after a job for
which he has no qualifications is foolish but not morally repre-
hensible. We do not give him moral commendation if he
supports local charities as a reliable vote-catcher or if he curbs
his tongue to retain his popularity or gives up his desire to do
what he cannot do. Yet all these courses would be prudent.
Why then is prudence a virtue ?
Aristotle thought prudence (phronesis) a virtue-an arete or
excellence-but an intellectual excellence. We have already
accepted this, and it explains why we should envy, admire and
congratulate the prudent man on his gifts and his effective
development of them. But this is not moral approval. For
the lack of an intellectual excellence, guilt and sin, blame and
remorse are inappropriate. Aristotle (as we shall see) some-
times suggested that phronesis was more than an intellectual
virtue but so far as it is intellectual our point holds and the
difficulty remains.
58 J. D. MABBOTT
We might also try to explain the moral approval of prudence

by the stock argument that no action is wholly self-regarding.
The imprudent man who does not provide for his old age becomes
a liability on the ratepayer or a burden on his relatives. The
imprudent mountaineer has to be rescued by other people in
danger from storm and darkness. Donkeys have to be got out
of holes even on the Sabbath; mules more so. But this is not
entirely satisfactory. A man might be imprudent about his old
age and not burden the ratepayer (who supports no relief service)
nor his relatives (for he has none). He simply dies prematurely
and why not? ' A short life and a gay one', says he. Or he
may be kept alive by a pension to which he has been compelled
to contribute, but owing to his own imprudence his old age may
be miserable. There are no misery-reliefs; so he has only
himself to blame. To blame? Or to kick? That is the
question.
Perhaps it might be said that, while this particular imprudent
action or course of action had no bad results for others, yet
imprudence is a disposition and we morally disapprove of it
because it will normally (though not in this case) cause trouble
to others.
If, however, the apparent self-centredness of prudence still
remains a difficulty it may be remembered that other dispositions
besides prudence are morally approved though they are not
essentially other regarding: for example, chastity, temperance,
and self-improvement. Yet even so, imprudence seems less
obviously a vice than intemperance or gluttony or lust. Perhaps
idleness-or the rejection of self-improvement-comes nearest
to it. Just as imprudence can be unhesitatingly disapproved
when it involves trouble for others, so idleness is specially repre-
hensible in contexts which make industry a clear other-regarding
duty, as in the cases of a doctor or teacher or priest-or when
idleness involves breaches of other special obligations, as when
a man paid for a six hour day spends two hours of it brewing up.
But there still remains the case of the lotus-eater who takes care
to avoid onerous careers or jobs for pay and so escapes the
special blame indicated above. Why do we disapprove of him?
We should be inclined to answer:
PRUDENCE 59
' What is a man

If his chief good and market of his time
Be but to sleep and feed ? A beast, no more.
Sure he that made us with such large discourse,
Looking before and after, gave us not
That capability and god-like reason
To fust i4 us unused'.
There is something here of teleological judgment, of what
man is 'meant for' or 'meant to be', about capacities which
would be wasted or unintelligible if never used. As my brother
once described our family car as ' an unnecessarily complicated
kettle'; so Hamlet is saying that the lotus-eater is an unneces-
sarily complicated beast. So it may be that we approve of
prudence also because of the 'god-like reason' its exercise
involves. It was because of this that it was important in Part I
of this paper to pinpoint the rational powers it requires. Had
they been only the powers which plan the satisfaction of a
present desire by an appropriate chain of action (something
which cats and chimpanzees do quite well) the approval would
have been much less intelligible. But this 'large discourse,
looking before and after', is something specifically human, and
not to employ it is to fall as low as or lower than the animals. It
may be said that those teleological explanations or humanistic
preference-attitudes are indefensible. If so we have still to find
the explanation we seek.
For further help we may go back to Aristotle. 'Phronesis'
for him involved not only good selection of the means to ends
but a right judgment of the value of those ends themselves.
'The object which reason asserts and desire pursues must be
the same '. PhronJsis is ' a reasoned and true capacity for action
with regard to human goods'. It is 'not concerned with
general questions only, for it is practical and practice deals with
particular states of affairs '. I suggested in Part I that the
planning exhibited in prudence involves not merely a harmoniz-
ing but also a balancing of the various ends we pursue. It
allows much weight to what is important and less to what is
trivial; it accepts the pain to shorten the cure, it will not sub-
ordinate to life all that makes life worth living. A scientist or a
60 J. D. MABBOTT
philosopher may live a well-planned well-organized harmonious

life but one from which beauty, friendship and family affection
are excluded. This is not prudent planning; what it lacks is
perception of the relative values of things. It may be objected
that 'perceptions of the relative values of things ' are not exer-
cises of the intellect nor expressions of any intellectual arete.
They are feelings of preference and neither true nor false. A
man cannot have what Aristotle describes as ' a reasoned or true
capacity for judging human goods' except so far as these goods
are merely instrumental. He can have preference attitudes and
make gradings, but the criteria for these gradings are not ration-
ally defensible.
Occasionally Aristotle seems to slip into this line of thinking.
'Moral virtue makes the end right, phronesis the means to the
end '. Phronesis too is said to be the development of the natural
capacity of cleverness which itself is non-moral. Again at other
times Aristotle seems to resolve this difficulty by making the
end of all human action to be ' eudaemonia' and by saying that
phronesis is concerned with the various means to that single
end. It is concerned not only with exercise and diet as means
to health or with tact and sympathy as means to friendship, but
also with health and friendship as contributions to eudaenmonia.
'It seems to be the mark of one having phronesis to be able to
plan well concerning the things good and suitable for himself,
not partially, as what will lead to health or strength, but what to
the good life as a whole'.
If ' the good life' is taken to be eudaemnonia and eudaemonia
is identified with happiness and happiness with pleasure, Aristotle
becomes a utilitarian carrying the means-ends distinction to its
limit by postulating only one single end. But these identifications
are doubtful. For a utilitarian the question is 'what causes
happiness ?' (for the answer to the question ' what is happiness ? '
is the same for all men). But for Aristotle the question is ' what
is eudaemonia?' and it is answered differently by different men.
" Good activity is the end' but what activity? Private life,
public life, philosophic contemplation? But then the contribu-
tions of health and friendship to the good life become those of
parts to whole rather than the means-end relation of cause and
PRUDENCE 61
effect. So for Aristotle the judgments of phronisis include

estimates of the relative importance of health and strength as
contributions to the good life.
This would be my suggestion about prudence. It includes
the adoption of a scale of values, a pattern of' ends', a way of
life. But the adoption of such a scale or pattern is a moral
decision and approval of the standards so adopted is a moral
approval. And this is why we morally approve of prudence.
But there is still something missing. A man has plotted his
course estimating means to ends and placing ends in a pattern
of relative importance. The result is a programme for action
including action now. Yet he may still fail in prudence for he
may be swayed by a sudden desire against the demands of his
programme. Someone calls through his window 'come out
and play' and he throws his plan to the winds. Prudence then
seems to be more than an intellectual or planning virtue, however
widely we define 'intellectual'. What is lacking here is tenacity
of purpose, strength of mind.
Of course the situation here may be so analysed as to avoid
this extra feature. The fact that we fall for the call to dalliance
shows that our programme did not adequately reflect our actual
values and preference scales. Dalliance turned out to have a
more important place than those other ends we thought we
preferred to it. We failed as planners; we did not succeed as
planners and fail in tenacity of purpose. If so the moral dis-
approval is of the same type as that previously noted. We have
allowed too much importance to dalliance and we have failed
to fit it into a plan (so that all else had to go to the winds). But
if we reject this analysis and stick to the view that the failure was
weakness of will, our old problem returns. We do not always
disapprove of people who are deflected from their plans by an
immediate impulse, people whom a wave of pity deflects from a
plan of revenge. Lack of tenacity seems to be a moral failing
only when the immediate impulse is not one to be morally
approved and the plan given up is morally commendable. But
why should we condemn a man for giving up a purpose of planned
self-interest ?
It may be said, in objection to my general view, that it is not
62 J. D. MABBOTT
prudence which determines the various ends which together

contribute to the good life. It is because we are the kind of
creatures we are that health and friendship matter to us and
beauty and truth attract us. The passions are natural to us, as
Hume said. Given these passions, reason may have much to
do in arranging and harmonizing them; but without them
reason is powerless. You cannot plan a holiday if there is
nothing you want to do. Hume remains in possession of the
field and moral approval of the pattern of desires remains
unintelligible. The drive comes from the passions; reason, the
charioteer, can co-ordinate but he cannot push or pull. This,
however, is to assume a mechanical relationship between means
and ends and between one end and another; as if unification in
a pattern did nothing but accept and harmonize the passions
without altering their essential nature. But we have seen that
planning can eliminate some and diminish others; and it can
also alter the nature of the passions themselves. Consider, for
example, 'the purposes for which marriage was ordained '-for
' the procreation of children to be brought up in the fear and
nurture of the Lord; as a remedy against sin . . . and for ...
mutual society help and comfort'. The interaction of the
second and third, the elements of sex and companionship, is no
mere addition or juxtaposition. Help and comfort in bringing
up children unite the first and third; and procreation and nurture
are not isolable aims (as can be seen in the pathetic cases where
the children are monsters). The achievement of these aims does
not leave unaltered the raw material whose combinations it
achieves.
I return in conclusion to my original difficulty. Why is
prudence approved if it is no more than enlightened self-interest ?
My explanation was that it involves the choice of a scale of
values which is a moral choice and the exercise of a level of
rationality which is distinctively human. But these defences
indicate that there are two different types of moral approval.
There is the approval of actions, and indirectly of the motives
and dispositions from which these actions are done; and these
approvals normally commend outward-looking and other-
regarding actions. But there is also each man's conception of
PRUDENCE 63
his own private ideal, the sort of man he would wish to be. He
may have his own hero and pattern his life on him; or he may be
prepared to list those qualities he particularly values and would
wish he had-kindness, courage, sympathy, tolerance, tenacity,
temperance, and prudence. Some of these traits of character,
approved as elements in the ideal self, may also be approved as
leading to actions which fulfil my duties to my neighbour. I can
condemn myself for lack of sympathy and for hardness of heart
because this is not the kind of person I would wish to be. Or I
can condemn actions of neglect and an unsympathetic nature as
the source of such actions. But the thought seems to me sig-
nificantly different, though the trait condemned is the same.
Nor do all characteristics belong to both categories. Chastity
and prudence may be elements in my ideal, yet neither trait seems
obviously to be approved indirectly as likely to explain the doing
of my duty.
Moreover some of the traits of which I approve seem to be
based on a natural disposition as benevolence was natural to
Pickwick and mother-love to Niobe. If someone lacks these
natural gifts he may still do what is morally commendable, force
himself to help the neighbour he dislikes or provide for children
whom he does not love. But, in that case, he will not approve of
himself as being the kind of man he would wish to be. On the
other hand, nature cannot supply the finished product which
would satisfy his ideals. He would not approve of himself if he
were merely a Pickwickian bonhomme or a doting father. The
natural tendency has to be developed, regulated, limited and
directed. He would like to be a sympathetic person-yes, but
not a sentimentalist moved by trifles or only by what is under his
nose, not imposed on by a rogue or a hard-luck story, not shun-
ning a fight when a fight is needed. He would be a loving parent
but not a doting one, not one to spoil his children nor to favour
them nor to neglect Joseph for his favourite Benjamin. So the
person he approves of is not wholly a natural nor wholly a moral
person but one in whom nature has been moulded by reasonable
choice and decision.
Prudence seems to me certainly a feature of this ideal
character and approved for that reason and not as the source
64 J. D. MABBOTT
of morally right acts. Moreover it is in a special position. A

man deserves no credit for the purely natural elements in his
make-up-Pickwick for his euphoria, Niobe for her tenderness,
though both may deserve credit for what they make of these
gifts. Now prudence seems least of all to have a natural basis,
to be most of all an acquired virtue. This too is perhaps why it
is approved; it is an especial credit to its possessor.
II-H. J. N. HORSBURGH
MY interpretation of prudence is substantially different from

Mr. Mabbott's, and my moral assessment of it will seem still
further removed from that which he has made. But this
appearance of wide moral disagreement is partly illusory.
' Prudent' is used to describe quite a number of different things
including actions, decisions, policies, rules, ways of life, and
people; and there is no reason why the attribution of prudence
to some of these things should imply as high a degree of moral
approval as its attribution to others. By stressing the differences
between these appraisals I am able to regard my views as, in
some measure, complementary to Mr. Mabbott's.
In my view, a prudent action or policy is one that involves

distinctively human powers of rational foresight and self-control,
and that can be expected to protect the agent, either in the
relatively distant future or over a protracted period that may
date from the action's performance, from a considerable mis-
fortune or disaster of a kind that might overtake any agent.
It will be difficult to justify the whole of this statement. But
I shall try to do so.
We seldom describe an action as prudent if it can be justified
by its expected results in the immediate future. This is because
immediate threats can usually be met without the exercise of
distinctively human powers of self-control or rational foresight.
For example, looking up and down a street before crossing it
does not deserve to be described as prudent. But saving for
one's retirement or being vaccinated against poliomyelitis fully
merits such a description, since, in different ways, they both
involve rational foresight and at least a measure of self-control.
It should also be noted that the propriety of describing actions
E
66 H. J. N. HORSBURGH
as prudent does not depend on whether the expectations by

which they would be justified prove to be correct but upon
whether they are reasonable. The man who is playing the markets
is not called shrewd unless his predictions are actually fulfilled
even if they appeared to be soundly based at the time he made
them. But we do not await the results of actions or policies
before describing them as prudent.
It seems to me that Mr. Mabbott should have laid much
greater stress on the cautious nature of prudent behaviour. All
cautious actions are not prudent but all prudent actions are
cautious, not only in being undertaken with care but also in
being actively concerned to anticipate, evade, or ward off some-
thing that seriously threatens the future well-being of the agent.
It is partly because self-interested behaviour, unlike that which
we call prudent, may be quite unmindful of danger, that it has
much less to do with the securing of general means to future
satisfactions. It is also important to emphasise that prudence
is concerned solely with the avoidance of major ills and disasters.
On Mr. Mabbott's view, a man who often moved from one town
to another would show prudence if he bought a radio that could
be used with either A.C. or D.C. mains. But I question whether
we should describe such an action as prudent since it does not
greatly matter whether one has a radio and it is only an
inconvenience to have bought one that one cannot always
use.
At first hearing it is an odd proviso that a prudent action

should be one that can be expected to protect the agent from a
misfortune of a kind that might overtake any agent. But it
seems to me that such a requirement is needed if we are to
mark the difference between prudent actions and other members
of the class of actions which are in some way conducive to the
satisfaction of some or all of our desires, or if we are to take
account of the fact that there are eventualities much dreaded
by agents the avoidance of which would not count as prudent.
(However, it is here that I really part company with Mr. Mabbott;
and I cannot claim that I go off with much assurance of having
chosen the better path.) The special concern of prudence
PRUDENCE 67
seems to be the avoidance of such evils as poverty, ill-health,

disablement, loneliness, deep frustration, etc., etc.-evils that
can befall us all and which are universally recognised to be major
obstacles to the achievement of happiness. We all have a wish
to avoid these evils in virtue of our common nature as human
beings; and I wish to maintain that when we are considering
actions or men and women from the standpoint of prudence
we are concerned to stress what people have in common rather
than the desires or inclinations which serve to differentiate one
individual from another. Serviceable, expedient, politic and
prudent actions are all conducive, in one way or another, to the
fulfilment of the agent's desires. But whereas serviceable,
politic and expedient actions are alike in being conducive to the
satisfaction of any of one's desires, regardless of whether they
are of kinds that activate few or many other people, prudent
actions are conducive to the satisfaction of only those of one's
desires which are of kinds that would be assumed to characterise
any human being. Consider, for example, the case of a junior
minister of high ambition who performs a special service for
the prime-minister. His action is politic, but I do not think
that we should call it prudent, since, from the standpoint of
prudence, failure to reach cabinet rank does not count as a major
adversity. On the other hand, the frustration or personal
bitterness that might be engendered by such failure does count
as a considerable misfortune. But the voice of prudence would
counsel actions calculated to restrain high ambition rather than
actions likely to satisfy it. For high ambition is a recipe for
unhappiness since only in exceptional cases can it attain even
partial fulfilment, and it cannot be prudent to act in a way
calculated to satisfy a desire that it is imprudent not to curb.
Similarly, the fact that one wants a short life and a merry one,
or values high accomplishment more than safety, does not make
it less imprudent to drink excessively or to take unnecessary risks.
Therefore, when we are judging whether actions are prudent we
abstract as far as possible from individual differences, ignoring
the peculiar desires or scales of values of those whose actions
are being scrutinised.
E2
Prudent actions may or may not be performed for prudential

reasons. But one would not describe an agent as prudent
unless one believed, not only that he acted prudently, but that
he did so in order to secure his own future happiness. Further-
more, one would expect him to be actively concerned about the
whole remaining course of his life. Thus, the prudent man,
par excellence, is the man who seeks to take care of his whole
future, warding off all serious reverses of fortune to the limit of
his capacity.
As Mr. Mabbott points out, this does not mean that he follows
a policy of " always jam to-morrow, never jam to-day ", or
that he is inclined to miserliness and hypochondria. On the
contrary, those who suffer from these failings are not described
as prudent. This is because it is recognised that their qualities
are such as are likely to bring about personal misfortune, e.g., the
atrophy of their powers of enjoyment. Hence, although the
impoverishment of one's present life cannot be called imprudent
directly, since, as Mr. Mabbott says, the word 'prudence'
always refers to the future, it may be called imprudent indirectly
owing to the shadows which it casts upon one's future
happiness.
As I have already said, the ideally prudent man seeks to
safeguard his whole future. Such an undertaking seems to
presuppose a general conception of the course of the individual's
life as falling naturally into stages distinguished from one another
by their dominant needs and desires, and hence, by the activities
appropriate to them. The enjoyment of each stage is threatened
by the great evils of human life. But different evils are specially
menacing at different stages, so that the ideally prudent man,
looking down the years, must prepare either to meet or to evade
several vistas of human problems. Such an interpretation of
prudence draws it into relation with the accepted conception-
well-charted in some communities and more nebulous in others
-of the practically wise life, i.e., the kind of life which, taken
as a whole, is likely to yield the biggest dividend of happiness.
And this point of view enables us to offer a further explanation
of our reluctance to attribute prudence to those who seriously
PRUDENCE 69
impoverish their present lives out of exaggerated concern for the

future. For, although impoverishment of the present and neglect
of the future are errors that we often contrast, from the standpoint
of accepted practical wisdom they illustrate the same error,
namely, failure to give each stage of life neither more nor less
than its due.
But if there are similarities between prudence and accepted

practical wisdom, there are also important differences arising
out of the concentration of the former upon the avoidance of
major ills. The most obvious of these is to be found in their
contrasting attitudes to dangerous play and experiment in the
lives of the very young. The sowing of wild oats is usually
accorded a place in the practically wise life but is quite alien
to the life of prudence. Accepted practical wisdom distrusts,
or even frowns upon, old heads set upon young shoulders, whereas
prudence thinks that any pair of shoulders are the better for
bearing such a head.
It is clear from what has already been said that, unlike

Mr. Mabbott, I should want to insist on there being some
differences between the lives of prudence and enlightened self-
interest. Most of these differences are sufficiently obvious.
But it is worth pointing out that enlightened self-interest is closer
to selfishness than prudence can be said to be. This is because
self-interested behaviour, however enlightened, is expected to
further one's interests partly at the expense of other people's,
whereas prudent behaviour, although self-regarding, is not
expected to produce conflicts of interest. For example, my
refusal to smoke may do nothing to safeguard your health, but
the benefits I hope to derive from it are not gained, in the least
degree, at your expense; and this is entirely typical of prudence.
I think that it is this difference, more than any other, which
accounts for the fact that when we say " X is acting prudently "
we are sometimes expressing moral approval whereas when we
say " X is acting self-interestedly" the note of moral approval
is altogether absent however enlightened we may judge X
to be.
II
The accepted conception of the prudent man will vary in

some degree from community to community, from class to
class, and from one period to another. But since there are
general ways, common to all times and societies, in which agents
bring evils on themselves, all the portraits in the gallery of
prudence will have certain general features in common. For
example, the prudent man will seek to harmonise his desires,
will restrain desires that are specially liable to be frustrated, will
cultivate desires the fulfilment of which promises to bring deep
or lasting satisfaction, etc., etc.
Mr. Mabbott has some interesting things to say about one
of these universal recipes for prudent living: the harmonising
of one's desires. He claims that this process of regulation is
entirely indirect, not working on one's desires themselves, but
concerning itself exclusively with the states of affairs that would
satisfy one's desires. I think he has drawn attention to a most
important feature of such regulation. But his claims are too
sweeping: first, because it is very unusual indeed for such a
process to be entirely indirect; and secondly, because there is
more than one way in which desires are indirectly harmonised.
Two or more desires may be said to be harmonious when the
satisfaction of one or more of them does not prevent the satis-
faction of all or any of the remainder. This suggests that when
one speaks of harmonising one's desires one is referring to some
process whereby one's existing desires are rendered harmonious.
But it is clear from the r0le which Mr. Mabbott assigns to prudence
in the individual's development that he intends the phrase
' harmonising one's desires' to refer also to a different kind of
process, namely, one by means of which one's desires are changed
in such a way as to make them harmonious. The second kind
of process alters one's desires, usually destroying one or more
of them and sometimes adding to them, whereas the first kind
leaves one with exactly the same desires as one had before it
began.
I think it is easy to show that Mr. Mabbott's assertions cannot
PRUDENCE 71
be made good in connexion with processes of the second kind.

Consider, e.g., the case of a man faced with a conflict between
a very strong desire for health and a craving for tobacco. Such
a conflict can be ended only if the craving for tobacco can be
overcome. This might be accomplished directly through a policy
of rigid self-control; for, although the refusal to gratify a desire
may intensify it initially, in the long run such a refusal is likely
to weaken, and even to destroy, it. The same result might be
accomplished indirectly through the avoidance of those situations
in which the craving is awakened. For if it is rendered inactive
over a protracted period it is likely to disappear. This indirect
mode of harmonising one's desires is clearly of a different kind
from that to which Mr. Mabbott refers.
Mr. Mabbott's claims are much more plausible if advanced
in connexion with processes of the first kind. But it seems to
me that even here they are too sweeping. Consider a rational
holiday plan of the sort which Mabbott uses as one of his
illustrations. Suppose that one particularly wishes to visit D,
that one also wishes to visit A, B and C, and that one's holiday
itinerary cannot include them all unless they are visited in the
order A, B, C and D. The plan to visit them in this order is a
major contribution towards the harmonising of one's desires.
But it fails to complete the process of harmonising them since
the desire to visit D may reject the promissory note-to use
Mabbott's apt phrase-which is to be handed to it. After all,
that is the strongest desire; and this is a world in which hydrogen
bombs, 'plane crashes and heart-attacks threaten to interpose
themselves between our desires and their fulfilment. As far as
one knows one will be able to carry out the whole of one's holiday
plan. But the likelihood of one's being able to complete the
first visit is greater than the likelihood of one's being able to
complete the second let alone the fourth; and consequently,
if the fourth visit is the one that one would carry out if only
one visit were possible, one needs to exercise some direct control
over the inclination to give it temporal priority if one's desires
are to be harmonised. Thus, the intelligent organisation of
one's life cannot harmonise one's existing desires unless one has
sufficient force of character to exercise some direct control over

them.
III
Somewhat surprised by Mr. Mabbott's unqualified approval

of prudence I have asked a number of friends and acquaintances
to define their attitude towards it. These enquiries suggest
that it has few whole-hearted admirers. Most people seem to
be either lukewarm in its support or to view it with positive
hostility; and this lack of enthusiasm seems to be what one
would expect since even Christian teaching, as represented by
the parables, is ambiguous on this subject. What follows is
to be thought of as, in some ways, complementary to Mr.
Mabbott's vigorous defence of prudence. It is meant to account
for these widely held attitudes of luke-warmness and hostility.
But before I proceed with this task I should like to justify
it by providing some illustrations of the coolness to which I
refer. First, such an attitude seems to be implied by our greater
readiness to praise prudent actions than prudent people; for
our inclinations move in the reverse direction when a quality
elicits whole-hearted admiration. For example, eager as we are
to praise courageous actions we are still more eager to praise
courageous people. Again, even those who do not question
that prudence is a virtue are most unlikely to use the word
'prudent' when describing those whom-in the moral sense-
they most admire. Here it must be remembered that even a
full description of somebody is far from being exhaustive since
it normally includes only those characteristics which are either
possessed to a conspicuous degree or which are more marked
than any other characteristics. It is true that those whom we
most admire will often act prudently, since to act otherwise is
frequently sheer folly or wickedness; but such behaviour will
not be so habitual as to make prudence one of their fundamental
or salient characteristics. Finally, while one can say with warmth
of approval, "What courage! " "What generosity! " or even
" What self-control! " the expression " What prudence! " smacks
of derision rather than of intense approbation.
PRUDENCE 73
I think it is clear from these illustrations that many people,

when they call someone prudent, not only mean to praise him,
but also to indicate that he does not belong to a very exalted
moral class.
But this does not follow in any simple way from the meaning
of the word ' prudent '. No quality obviously outstrips prudence
in the way that nobility eclipses mere agreeableness. And it is
not part of what is meant by prudence that it characterises the
morally limited in the way that it is part of what is ordinarily
meant by obedience that if it is a virtue at all it is a virtue of
inferiors. The connexion between prudence and moral limited-
ness is felt to be less simple than this. And, in any case, it is
at least questionable whether a quality that is a moral virtue in
one man can be other than a moral virtue in another. So
although it may usually be the duty of a servant to obey his
master, obedience is not a moral virtue at all, whether it be found
in servants or in masters.
Nevertheless, it is widely believed that although many people
would be the better for being more prudent than they are,
prudence is a quality that in some way limits the moral potentiality
of those who possess it, setting a ceiling to their development.
But how is this to be interpreted ? There seem to be at least
two ways in which a characteristic might limit achievement.
First, a quality may be such that its possession is valuable in
combination with, but harmful in the absence of, certain other
qualities. For example, a speaker must regard natural fluency
as an asset. But a man who lacks this talent may become a
good speaker when its possession would have turned him into
a perfect rattle. Secondly, a quality may be such as to favour
mushroom growth up to but not beyond a certain level, its
eventual result being to limit the development of the qualities
to which it gave initial encouragement, or to prevent the develop-
ment of other qualities that are also essential to high achievement.
For example, complete fearlessness might be said to make for
the rapid development of certain valuable qualities. But it is
arguable that it also rules out the proper appreciation of danger
and that such appreciation is essential to the development of
courage and other important qualities. Prudence does not seem

to be limiting in the first sense, since this requires that a quality
should always be harmful unless accompanied by certain other
qualities and that it should only limit those who lack these other
qualities; and, on the view that I am maintaining, the develop-
ment of prudence represents an advance in some but an inevitable
limiting of any. Thus, if no other qualities were mentioned,
one would be more favourably disposed towards a man described
as prudent than towards a man described as imprudent; but
imprudence is just consistent with moral greatness and prudence
is not. I am claiming, therefore, that prudence is morally
limiting in the second sense.
But why should this be so ? The short answer is that while
it is only common sense to think of one's own future from time
to time, doing what one can to protect oneself from poverty,
disease, etc., when there is no more pressing business to attend
to, to be so actively concerned with the avoidance of great personal
misfortune for this to be a fundamental or salient characteristic,
is to be unwilling to make departures from prudent schemes of
life either as soon or as often as any marked fidelity to principles
is bound to require. A longer answer is to be found by looking
more closely at the lives of those whom we most admire. Almost
invariably such people seem to possess one or other or both of
the following characteristics: a sense of having a vocation that
must be fulfilled however much suffering it brings down on
themselves, or an extraordinary responsiveness to duty that
makes them willing to down one mode of life and take up
another without regard to the pain or hardship or loss of security
that the substitution will cause them. Both these characteristics
are utterly at odds with prudence; and the lives of those in
whom they are to be found could as readily be confined within
the boundaries of prudence as headlong passion within the
channels of convention.
The attitude of those who are positively hostile to prudence
might also be justified on the basis of what has already been
said. For it might be contended that to aim at any life short
of the best is to deserve a moral anathema; and few of us
PRUDENCE 75
believe that the prudent life represents the summit of moral

aspiration. But I shall leave aside such questions since it is
very doubtful whether the severest critics of prudence would
justify their attitude solely or even mainly on the ground that
prudence represents too low a target. They are more likely to
contend that it is the wrong target altogether; and consequently,
that it is a positive affront to morality.
I suspect that this hostility is sometimes based upon gross
carelessness or confusion. For example, one might condemn
prudence on the basis of the contrast that we make between
prudential reasons and moral reasons, arguing that since
prudential reasons are not moral they must necessarily be
immoral.
But there are more solid grounds for hostility to prudence.
They rest on the fact that even if one approves of prudence its
scope is such that it cannot be termed a specific virtue. Compare
it with courage, for example. One can live courageously, and
can even adopt a courageous way of life. But the injunction,
" Be courageous! " gives one so little guidance in many of one's
activities that one is bound to feel the need for additional
injunctions. Prudence, on the other hand, is like the blind man's
stick: in spite of its inferiority to some other guides it can be
used to test one's every step. In other words, " Be prudent! "
rivals " Be good! " in its breadth of application-and its rivalry
is the more dangerous for its being the easier to interpret. It is
this which gives point to the contrast between moral reasons and
prudential reasons, and at the same time serves to justify the
hostility of which I have spoken. It may be that there are limits
to the legitimate cultivation of any virtue, and that we can be
too generous, too magnanimous, etc.-although, for my own
part, I question whether this is true. But prudential reasons
can do more than encroach upon ground that should be reserved
for moral reasons; they can entirely usurp the place of morality.
Therefore, the quality of prudence, if it comes to dominate a
man's character, is a very desperate threat to morality.
I think I have said enough to show that I am in sympathy
with all the attitudes which Mr. Mabbott and I have distinguished
-though not with all the defences which have been made of
them. I sometimes approve of prudent actions and policies; and
approve of them because they are prudent. On the other hand,
I not only think that it is morally limiting to be the kind of person
whom we describe as prudent, I positively disapprove of those
whose lives and characters have largely been shaped by
prudence.

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Symposium: Prudence

Author(s): J. D. Mabbott and H. J. N. Horsburgh

By MR. J. D. MABBOTT AND MR. H. J. N. HORSBURGH

In Part I of this paper I try to show that the characteristic

By derivation a prudent man is one who looks to the future.

Is it then something in the nature of the long-term ends

convalescence, and it is possible ' propter vitam vivendi perdere

It is to be noted also that there are several possible meanings

have but expect to have and planning to avoid having such

things as would disrupt the system (drugs, for example) by

his principle that 'nothing can oppose or retard the impulse

II--Prudence and Morality

Not all planning for the future would count as prudence. A

We might also try to explain the moral approval of prudence

' What is a man

philosopher may live a well-planned well-organized harmonious

effect. So for Aristotle the judgments of phronisis include

prudence which determines the various ends which together

of morally right acts. Moreover it is in a special position. A

MY interpretation of prudence is substantially different from

In my view, a prudent action or policy is one that involves

as prudent does not depend on whether the expectations by

At first hearing it is an odd proviso that a prudent action

seems to be the avoidance of such evils as poverty, ill-health,

Prudent actions may or may not be performed for prudential

impoverish their present lives out of exaggerated concern for the

But if there are similarities between prudence and accepted

It is clear from what has already been said that, unlike

The accepted conception of the prudent man will vary in

be made good in connexion with processes of the second kind.

sufficient force of character to exercise some direct control over

Somewhat surprised by Mr. Mabbott's unqualified approval

I think it is clear from these illustrations that many people,

courage and other important qualities. Prudence does not seem

believe that the prudent life represents the summit of moral

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