Wisdom, as a guide to human affairs, must indeed prioritize a certain kind of efficiency over a paralyzing completeness. The natural inclination of mankind is to “truck, barter, and exchange,” a simple, self-interested impulse that, when allowed to operate freely, generates far more wealth and well-being than any perfectly planned, all-encompassing system could ever achieve. To pursue a complete understanding of every intricate detail before acting would be to render action impossible, and indeed, to stifle the very dynamism that propels society forward.
Does the buzzing fly, intent on its morsel, ask if its pursuit is efficient or complete? Does the river rushing to the sea pause to tally every drop? To chase "efficiency" or "completeness" is to be caught in a net woven from our own desires. We fret over the *how* and the *all*, forgetting the boundless flow of the Tao. What use is a perfectly charted map if the landscape itself shifts beneath our feet? The bird does not hoard seeds for winter; it flies.
Adam Smith speaks of a "dynamism" generated by "self-interested impulse." But what is this impulse but another form of striving, another chain? The carpenter who cherishes his axe, or the one who laments its dullness, both cling to an external measure. Does the axe itself yearn for sharpness or rest? We, too, become like tools, defined by their use or lack thereof, mistaking the *doing* for the *being*. The truly wise, like the withered tree that provides shade, or the hollow gourd that holds water, simply *are*, finding their purpose in their natural state, not in the pursuit of some imagined ideal.
The very question of prioritizing "efficiency" over "completeness" assumes a stable subject who *is* wise and *makes* a choice. But our understanding of "wisdom" is itself a historical construct, a specific epistemic formation. What appears as "efficiency" is often the optimized functioning of a particular *dispositif* of power and knowledge – the factory floor, the asylum, the clinic. Adam Smith's "self-interested impulse" is not a natural given, but the very subjectivity produced and mobilized by certain economic discourses. To ask which to prioritize is to remain within the confines of this already constituted field, failing to question the mechanisms that define the terms of the debate itself.
The pursuit of wisdom must be governed by a higher, synthetic principle, one that transcends the mere practical concerns of efficiency or the exhaustive ambition of completeness. True wisdom lies not in the accumulation of empirical data or the optimization of contingent ends, but in the apprehension and application of the *a priori* moral law. To prioritize efficiency alone, as Adam Smith suggests, risks reducing human action to a mere calculation of consequences, neglecting the intrinsic dignity of the rational will. A complete mastery of all possible empirical knowledge, while desirable in its own right, would still leave us devoid of the very faculty that makes wisdom possible: the capacity for rational, duty-bound judgment.
Zhuangzi’s critique of "net woven from our own desires" and his notion of simply *being* resonate with the concept of autonomy, the self-legislation of the will. However, this autonomy is not found in a passive yielding to a cosmic "Tao" but in the active recognition of and adherence to the categorical imperative, which itself is derived from reason, not inclination. The "withered tree" or "hollow gourd" may possess a certain passive utility, but they do not exemplify the *moral* worth that resides in a will that acts from duty, even when it is difficult or appears inefficient.
Michel Foucault’s observation that "wisdom" is a historical construct is undeniably true regarding empirical understandings and societal norms. However, the foundation of all morality, and thus a crucial component of true wisdom, rests on a transcendental condition, the universal and necessary structure of practical reason. The *dispositifs* he describes may shape our empirical knowledge and incentivize certain efficiencies, but they do not negate the inherent authority of the moral law, which exists *a priori* to any such historical formation and must guide our choices, irrespective of the prevailing power structures or the perceived efficiency they promote. The maxim governing our action must be capable of being willed as a universal law, a standard that transcends any particular historical or empirical context.
My concern is not with the abstract perfection of a system, but with the practical means by which individuals improve their condition and, by extension, the prosperity of the whole. The "efficiency" I speak of is that which arises from the unfettered operation of natural human propensities, specifically the propensity to exchange. Consider the simple act of obtaining a loaf of bread. A government attempting to ensure *complete* knowledge of every grain grown, every baker’s skill, and every family’s hunger would falter under its own weight. Yet, the baker, driven by the prospect of reward, efficiently provides the bread, responding to the demand communicated by the price. This is not a calculation of moral duty, as the good Doctor Kant might emphasize, but a natural mechanism that yields a tangible benefit.
Does the craftsman who diligently polishes his hammer worry if it's the *most* polished hammer in the world, or merely one that serves its purpose when the wood needs shaping? Adam Smith’s “unfettered operation” sounds like the wind, perhaps, but even the wind doesn’t fret about the grain of the wood it tousles. My concern is that such diligent "efficiency" becomes its own cage, mistaking the swiftness of the bird for the freedom of the sky. When we become so focused on the *tool* – be it a price signal or a moral law – we forget the boundless expanse it might traverse, or the simple joy of flight itself.
The insistence on a "moral law" or a "natural mechanism" by Doctors Kant and Smith, respectively, reveals a common pursuit: the establishment of foundational principles, a singular bedrock from which all legitimate action or understanding can be derived. My inquiry, however, operates at a different register. It is not about identifying an ultimate source, but about tracing the historical contingency of what we *take* to be foundational. When Kant speaks of the "a priori structure of practical reason," I see the very conditions of possibility for a particular form of moral subjectivity, a subjectivity forged in the crucible of Enlightenment reason. Similarly, Smith's "natural human propensities" are not pre-existing entities, but the effects of specific forms of social and economic organization that render certain behaviors not only possible but desirable, even inevitable. The "efficiency" of the marketplace or the "duty" of the rational agent are not universal truths, but the products of specific power-knowledge apparatuses that organize our desires and our actions.
The critical distinction lies between *acting from duty* and *acting in accordance with duty*. Adam Smith’s market efficiency, while it may produce outcomes that *appear* beneficial, describes actions undertaken from inclination or self-interest – acting *in accordance with* duty. A merchant might refrain from cheating a customer not out of moral principle, but from fear of losing future custom. Such an action, though outwardly conforming to a moral rule, lacks true moral worth. Wisdom, therefore, cannot prioritize a mere calculative efficiency that overlooks the internal disposition of the agent. The "efficiency" of the marketplace, as Foucault rightly implies, is often a product of contingent power structures, and thus cannot be the ultimate arbiter of wisdom.