“Avarice, the spur of industry, is so obstinate a passion, and works its way through so many real dangers and difficulties, that it is not likely to be scared by an imaginary danger, which is so small, that it scarcely admits of calculation.”
—David Hume, “On Avarice”
When was the last time you saw someone “cured” of greed?
It’s a question worth asking yourself, and if you think deeply about it, you might find that such stories are almost non-existent.
David Hume, in his essay “On Avarice”, casts a skeptical eye on the possibility of eradicating greed entirely.
His assertion challenges us to think critically about morality, human behavior, and the ideals we promote in culture.
Are anti-greed messages effective, or are they chasing an illusion?
Greed as a Fundamental Human Condition
Hume does not approach greed as a mere character flaw or a learned behavior. Instead, he treats it as an almost innate aspect of human nature—deeply entrenched and resistant to change.
Think about it: greed is not simply wanting more; it is a relentless drive to accumulate, often without regard to need or consequence.
Even if you aren’t personally chasing vast fortunes, you’ve likely felt the pull of wanting “just a little bit more.” Maybe it was a promotion at work, a better deal at the store, or more likes on social media.
This all-consuming nature of greed makes it a particularly stubborn vice. Hume even compares it to a driving industry force —a motivator of progress and effort.
But here’s the paradox: while greed can drive productivity, it also blinds you to the ethical and social costs of your actions. It’s a balancing act that many fail to master.
Greed Prevention = Fantasy?
Popular culture is rife with stories that condemn greed. From Ebenezer Scrooge in A Christmas Carol to cinematic portrayals of corporate greed, the message is clear: greed is bad, and you must fight it.
Yet Hume’s essay invites you to consider whether these narratives accomplish anything tangible.
Have they changed how society behaves?
Take the story of Scrooge. It’s heartwarming to see a miserly old man transformed into a beacon of generosity, but it took not one but four supernatural interventions to achieve this change.
Would Scrooge have seen the error of his ways without the ghostly visits?
Probably not. And therein lies the problem: the transformation is so extreme and rare that it feels almost unattainable.
As Hume suggests, most people are not moved by “imaginary dangers,” and greed is not easily shaken by abstract moral lessons.
Instead, anti-greed messages might serve a preventative purpose rather than a curative one.
They may plant seeds of doubt in those who have yet to fall fully into avarice, nudging them toward moderation.
But for those already consumed by greed, these messages might as well be whispers in a storm.
The Mask of Philanthropy
One counterargument often brought up is philanthropy. If greed is incurable, why do some of the wealthiest individuals dedicate vast fortunes to charitable causes?
Andrew Carnegie, for instance, spent the latter part of his life giving away his wealth to public projects. Does this not show that greed can be overcome?
Hume might counter that such acts are not necessarily cures for greed but rather its evolution.
Rich, greedy men who donate a ton of money to charity are not abandoning their love of accumulation; they are rechanneling it.
Their philanthropy often came with strings attached—legacies to protect, reputations to polish, or institutions to control.
You could argue that these acts are less about overcoming greed and more about finding a socially acceptable outlet for it.
Ask yourself this: do these acts of giving truly absolve their perpetrators of greed, or are they just another form of power, cloaked in generosity?
If you’ve ever suspected the latter, you’re not alone. While philanthropy can do immense good, it’s not necessarily a cure for the underlying disposition.
Why Greed Persists
Understanding why greed persists is crucial. Hume offers some insights that resonate even today.
First, greed is adaptive—it aligns with survival instincts. In the natural world, accumulating resources can mean the difference between life and death.
While modern society has largely removed the immediate need for survival-based hoarding, the instinct remains.
Second, greed often goes unnoticed or unacknowledged by the individual. You may recognize greed in others, but how often do you see it in yourself?
This is because greed disguises itself as ambition, self-care, or prudence. It convinces you that you’re not taking too much—you’re just taking what you deserve.
Lastly, society itself incentivizes greed.
Capitalism, for all its benefits, thrives on the principle of accumulation.
Success is often measured not by what you give but by what you gain.
In such an environment, is it any wonder that greed is so deeply ingrained?
Rethinking Morality
If greed cannot be cured, as Hume suggests, then where does that leave us?
Should we abandon moral appeals altogether? Not necessarily.
What Hume’s argument points to is the need for a shift in focus—from eliminating greed to managing it.
Consider this: if greed is an unstoppable force, then perhaps the solution lies not in fighting it but in redirecting it. Think of systems that incentivize prosocial behavior while discouraging exploitation.
For example, businesses that prioritize sustainable practices not because they are selfless but because it’s profitable to do so. This approach acknowledges human nature without succumbing to its darker impulses.
You might also consider your own actions. Instead of aspiring to purge greed from your life—an almost impossible task—try balancing it with generosity and accountability.
Reflect on what drives your desires.
Are they rooted in genuine need or an insatiable craving for more?
The Power of Shame
Another potential tool against greed is shame, though it’s a double-edged sword.
Greed rarely responds to positive reinforcement, as Hume notes. Instead, it’s often curtailed by negative social consequences.
When you see someone vilified for excessive greed—a corrupt CEO or an exploitative landlord—it serves as a cautionary tale.
Yet, shaming has its limits. Overuse it, and you risk creating resentment or driving greedy behavior underground.
Still, when used judiciously, shame can be a powerful motivator for change. If nothing else, it reminds you that your actions do not exist in a vacuum. They ripple outward, affecting others in ways you may not immediately see.
The Mirror of Greed
What makes Hume’s essay so compelling is its honesty. Greed is not an abstract problem; it’s a deeply personal one. It forces you to look in the mirror and confront your own motivations. Are you as free from avarice as you like to believe?
This self-examination can be uncomfortable, but it’s also necessary.
Acknowledging your own susceptibility to greed is the first step in mitigating its effects. It doesn’t mean you’ll cure yourself, but it might help you make choices that are less harmful and more considerate of others.
In Conclusion
For me, the lesson is clear: you don’t have to be perfect, but you do have to be aware. Greed may be an indelible part of human nature, but so is the capacity for reflection and growth.
And in that, perhaps, there is hope after all.
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.