Then, how would a liberally-educated student value economics? He would put it below theology but above physics in terms of its field. Because of its mixed method and the contingent character of its object of study, he would be relatively skeptical of the non-economic excursions of economics, more so the farther afield the economic method goes. The poorly educated theologian would rush and pronounce on social morality without checking with economics; the liberally-educated theologian would refuse to be so rash. The liberally-educated physicist would refuse to apply his method to economic phenomena without reading deeply into sociology, history, and psychology (sadly, he often applies away). And the liberally-educated citizen would be horrified to be described thus:

What is more common than the sight of grown men, talking on political or moral or religious subjects, in that off-hand, idle way, which we signify by the word unreal? “That they simply do not know what they are talking about?” is the spontaneous silent remark of any man of sense who hears them. Hence such persons . . . have no difficulties in the most difficult subjects. [Such half-formed and superficial intellects love to expound on] random theories and imposing sophistries and dashing paradoxes, . . . full of “views” . . . on all matters of the day . . . at a moment’s notice. (Newman, Idea of a University, XLIII, XLV)

Sadly, one knows too many of these insta-economists. They tend to give people the impression that economists are just like accountants. But an economist typically can’t balance your checkbook—probably, he can’t balance his own. What he can do is help you apply your reason to the ordinary business of life.

Knowledge advances, in part, because we purposefully ignore the use to which our knowledge will be put. But purposefully ignoring our purpose is a dangerous thing. It exposes us to the jocularity of our cousins at family gatherings; it gets us called parasites and failures in financial newspapers; it gets us called the Enlightenment-spawned, rationalistic pseudo-scholars of selfishness, materialism, and greed. In the pursuit of truth, so much the better!

I do not then blame the Political Economist for anything which follows from the very idea of his science, from the very moment that it is recognized as a science. . . . Given that wealth is to be sought, this and that is the method of gaining it. This is the extent to which a Political Economist has a right to go. (Newman, Idea, p. 65–66)

The very habit that ensures our success spells our disaster: we teach our students to look upon facts, to abstract and generalize, to draw conclusions and confirm hypotheses; to fix their mind upon their subject . . . “till [they have] forgotten there are subjects of thought higher and more heavenly than it” (Newman, Idea, p. 67). Newman criticizes the economics profession not because it is wrong, but because it is right. Economics says things that are true. The facts are well-collected, the logic is impeccable, and the intentions are good. And . . . precisely because it is true, it is “able to instill what is false” (Newman, Idea, p. 69). Again, Newman writes,

I am not denying, I am granting, I am assuming, that there is reason and truth in the [views] of scientific men; I only say that, though they speak truth, they do not speak the whole truth; that they speak a narrow truth, and think it a broad truth; that their deductions must be compared with other truths, which are acknowledged to be truths, in order to verify, complete, and correct them. (Newman, Idea, p. 70–71)

How can we manage this verification, completion, correction, if we do our research and teaching in four-year vacation camps attached to various teaching academies, set up to finance research institutes? These teaching centers have little connection with each other besides a common administration. Where is the University that is “an Alma Mater, knowing her children one by one, not a foundry, or a mint, or a treadmill” (Idea, p. 109)?

Economics “speaks a narrow truth, and thinks it a broad truth.” But Economics is not the only science to make that mistake, and that is precisely Newman’s point. In the fourth discourse, Newman uses Nassau Senior’s first lecture as an Oxford professor as an example of what might happen to all of us. Old Testament studies yield much truth: its very correctness convinces the scripture scholar that he can speak on economics. The anatomist discounts the soul, the historian discounts Revelation; both think that theology and economics surely exaggerate their claims. Political philosophy gives much wisdom, but not all wisdom. But the judgment of the relative value of a discipline does not belong to the discipline itself, but to a higher discipline, i.e., the Architectonic Science or Philosophy (cf. Idea, p. 68). According to Newman, political economy is

[A] science simply lawful and useful . . . at the same time dangerous and leading to occasions of sin . . . and in consequence, if studied by itself, and apart from the control of Revealed Truth, sure to conduct a speculator to unchristian conclusions. [The political economist, if he is to be at all at the service of truth] must of course direct his inquiries towards his end; but then at the same time it must be recollected, that so far he is not practical, but only pursues an abstract study. (Newman, Idea, p. 64, 66, emphasis added)

If I may be permitted a paradox, one “practical” goal of pursuing knowledge for its own sake is that of knowing the truth. We study economics for itself because we want to know the whole truth, not just a little part. The devoted study of philosophy, history, mathematics, or politics is just a “means” to knowing the whole truth—necessary means for us of limited minds, but not the end. The “practical” end of knowing a particular discipline is that it gets us a little closer to truth. So the study of economics “as an abstract study,” is both a requirement and an obstacle to the practical end of all study: knowing the whole truth.

Even more, “practical” ends in the sense of the Useful—virtue, health, prosperity, roads and buildings—also require integration. As Marshall says, focus on the practical may force us to integrate too soon. They distract us from the pursuit of knowledge and so we talk to other disciplines before we have anything to say; the conversation ends up shallow and self-aggrandizing. On the other hand, applied research can be done after much basic research: integration need not be shallow. If basic research is done for its own sake, all the while hoping for eventual application (ten months, ten years, ten decades later), it will have to remain humble. Each researcher knows she is one part of a team of researchers, separated by space and time but united by the desire to improve the lives of people. Pomposity might be expected in a lecture room but is very ridiculous in a committee room.

Serious economists will be thoroughly committed to seeking truth from their own approach. But entirely aware of the partiality of their approach, they will converse with other students of human nature and learn from them (and teach them). They will be, well, two-handed.

To learn more, visit the ISI short course on Free Markets & Civil Society.