A nosedive into philosophy’s forgotten sense

Smell has always been the poor cousin of the senses, overawed and diminished by the others. Hearing loss or blindness get all our attention, anosmia less so. What do the philosophers think?

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A nosedive into philosophy’s forgotten sense

“And I knew, in the sense that it was Arafa, by what he smelled."

-Ragheb al-Isfahani, the 11th-century Muslim scholar of Quranic commentary and the Arab language.

The sense of smell has long been a marker, comparator, and inspirer, yet it is generally considered the least significant of the senses. Hearing and vision arguably top the table, while even taste and touch are more important. The smell or scent of something, if noticed, often seems relatively peripheral.

Philosophers focus on sight and hearing because these senses serve as dominant models of knowledge and are often linked to cognitive processes. For instance, traditional philosophies refer to reason as ‘natural light,’ in contrast to the ‘supernatural light’ associated with revelation.

Within this framework, insight is seen as a path to true knowledge, requiring an intellectual ‘vision’ directed toward the contemplation of ideas. Conversely, ignorance is equated with ‘blindness’ and obscurantism.

A striking example of this perspective is found in Plato’s famous Allegory of the Cave in The Republic (Book VII). The transition from mere opinion—riddled with contradictions—to true knowledge is depicted entirely through the sense of sight, reinforcing vision’s philosophical primacy.

The great absentee

In classical times, the ability to recognise and perceive relationships was often referred to as ‘entendement’ (understanding), a term that also implies ‘hearing’ what is conveyed. Yet true comprehension involves transcending Spinoza’s concept of auditory perception and instead listening to the inner teacher. In this respect, the nose remains the great absentee in the history of philosophy.

In Arab customs, the nose is not a tool for understanding but a symbol of status and dignity

One rare exception is Theophrastus' A Treatise on Smells. It stands out because traditional philosophy has largely ignored olfaction. At best, the nose has appeared as a literary motif—more often a subject of amusement, wordplay, or aesthetic curiosity, appreciated only by certain artists and perfumers.

Traditional philosophy never dared consider smell as a path to truth, seemingly heeding the advice of St. Bernard, who warned that "odoratus impedit cogitationem" (the sense of smell hinders thought).

In the context of Arab linguistic and cultural traditions, the sense of smell has not been associated with knowledge but rather with pride and honour. The Arabic language, while recognising a moral or religious dimension to smell, does not attribute to it a cognitive function. In Arab customs, the nose is not a tool for understanding but a symbol of status and dignity. 

This is evident in many Arabic references, where the words for 'nose' and 'pride' are often linked. As Al-Jahiz notes in The Book of Animals: "The nose is pride and the object of arrogance." European languages also exhibit a moral framing of smell, with numerous expressions associating olfaction with moral and social judgments. 

Up close and personal

Some sociologists, such as G. Simmel, argue that social relations are not merely a matter of morality but that they are also fundamentally shaped by the senses. According to Simmel, sensory perception provides information beyond verbal communication. 

It also plays a crucial role in shaping social interactions before words are even spoken. When two people meet, they can immediately experience feelings of attraction or repulsion, influencing their perception of one another and determining the nature of their subsequent interactions.

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Though traditionally considered a secondary sense, Simmel grants smell a central role in The Sociology of the Senses. Unlike sight and hearing, which function at a distance, smell requires physical proximity. Odours cannot be easily separated from the people or things that emit them. 

That is precisely why they provoke such instinctive reactions. Unlike visual or auditory perceptions, which can be subjected to abstract reflection, smells elicit immediate emotional responses. Simmel says sensitivity to odours "necessarily leads to discrimination and divergence" and constitutes one of the sensory foundations of social segregation in the modern world. 

Social relationships 

More than any other sense, smell underlies strategies of exclusion, clustering, and spatial separation, shaping how urban spaces are shared and influencing the social geography of cities. Smells can reinforce or create distinctions. In this way, the nose plays a crucial role in regulating social interactions. 

It is the sense of dimensions and distances. We can 'stick our where it does not belong,' violating boundaries and straining relationships. It can suggest repulsion. The French have a saying: 'Je ne peux pas le sentir' (I can't smell him), meaning that they cannot bear to be in someone's company. 

In French, the word 'sagacité' is a term that Arabic uses to refer to 'discernment'. It originates from the Latin 'sagax' (keen sense of smell). Intelligence, then, has links to olfaction. The perceptive individual—the labib—is someone who knows how to use their nose wisely. 

The nose, therefore, is not merely a symbol of social and moral values; it also serves as a cognitive tool, helping thought overcome some of its limitations. Some of the great European writers—Baudelaire, Balzac, Proust—embraced the sense of smell as the ultimate medium of memory, the sense of remembrance par excellence.

This does not seem to extend to philosophy. Even when philosophers address the question of smell, they do not do so in a philosophical sense. Descartes, for instance, discussed it in Treatise on Man purely in physiological terms.

Unlike sight and hearing, which function at a distance, smell requires physical proximity

The stench of lies

In his playful book The Five Senses, philosopher Michel Serres has no independent chapter on smell (as the other senses get). Instead, he merges it inseparably with taste in a chapter titled Tables. In a project to challenge the dominance of vision and rehabilitate all the senses, smell is relegated to a mere accessory of taste in the culinary arts.

It was not until the late 19th century that the nose gained recognition, coming in the form of Nietzsche, who once famously declared: "My genius lies in my nose." The German thinker recognised in olfaction the faculty that Descartes attributed to what he called "a sound mind," that is, the ability to distinguish or to perceive with precision. 

Nietzsche wrote: "The nose, which no philosopher has ever spoken of with respect and recognition, is the most delicate instrument at our disposal. This machine can detect subtle differences that even a spectrometer cannot record."

In The Genealogy of Morals, his nose is a tool for distinguishing right from wrong, truth from falsehood, detecting deception and decay—a mechanism of social critique that allows us to form judgments and create new values. For Nietzsche, truth and falsehood have scents. 

In Thus Spoke Zarathustra, he associates them with peaks and heights, where "frost prevails and fresh air spreads." In The Genealogy of Morals, he writes: "Enough! A bit of air! A bit of air! The stench of lies from the pharmaceutical laboratory where the 'ideal' is manufactured seems to stick to our noses."

In the end, then, it was left to Nietzsche to elevate the nose to a philosophical instrument capable of exposing illusions, critiquing morality, and sniffing out the very essence of truth.

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