Dear Mr. Smith,
Like many, I cherish my family, but the holiday gatherings fill me with dread. It’s not just Aunt Marge’s infamous tomato aspic, a culinary relic she insists on serving. Then there’s Cousin Joe, who seems to have made it his personal mission to recount my most embarrassing teenage moments to everyone.
And let’s not forget Uncle Bob. Once politics enters the conversation, he’s off to the races, punctuating every rant with a spoon-banging performance. Is it wrong to feel resentful about these political lectures and the rehashing of my awkward past? How can someone like me, a family guy, possibly navigate these gatherings with any shred of dignity?
Sincerely,
Family Guy
Dear Mr. Guy,
Indeed, enduring both unpleasant food and conversation is a challenging fate. Personally, I am quite the oyster enthusiast. With a dozen oysters and a bottle of claret, I could patiently listen even to Rousseau expound on his most fantastical theories. However, tomato aspic combined with Uncle Bob’s political tirades does seem exceptionally harsh.
As I have often cautioned my students and readers, extreme political polarization, such as Uncle Bob’s, not only threatens nations but also clouds judgment. As I noted in The Theory of Moral Sentiments:
“The animosity of hostile factions, whether civil or ecclesiastical, is often still more furious than that of hostile nations and their conduct towards one another is often still more atrocious” (III.3.43).
Yet, it seems few truly heed this advice. From the eighteenth century to today, political disagreements have fractured both countries and families. Even your nation, founded on the principles of unity and the pursuit of a better life, descended into factionalism within mere decades. Consequently, “a very few . . . preserve their judgment untainted by the general contagion” (III.3.43).
One significant reason is that political factions stifle honesty. “The real, revered, and impartial spectator, therefore, is, upon no occasion, at a greater distance than amidst the violence and rage of contending parties” (III.3.43). Uncle Bob’s anger prevents him from stepping outside himself to assess and correct his own behavior.
But you, Mr. Guy, still possess this capacity for self-reflection. That is why you are writing, is it not? You are seeking a strategy for navigating these family gatherings. The key, as always, is to consider how an objective observer, fully aware of your situation, would perceive it. Would this impartial spectator condone you engaging in heated arguments with Uncle Bob? Or would they instead encourage a more measured and morally sound response?
Regarding the anecdotes about your youth, I fear you must simply endure them in silence. I myself have never fully escaped the persistent rumors of being kidnapped by gypsies in my youth. I recently discovered that a biographer, Mr. Rae, even speculated that I “would have made a poor gypsy.” While one might feel affronted by such insinuations, the impartial spectator advises moderation, perhaps even a wry smile.
Yours in fellow-feeling,
Mr. Smith
Editor’s Note: Letters to the “Dear Adam Smith” column are, of course, not answered by Adam Smith himself, who passed away in 1790. The responses are crafted by Sarah Skwire, Caroline Breashears, and Janet Bufton, intended for amusement and to illuminate Smith’s philosophical insights. Please note that this advice is for entertainment and educational purposes regarding Smith’s thought; caveat emptor, and any actions taken based on this advice are at your own risk.
