This piece reframes the 19th-century missionary movement not as a story of colonial arrogance, but as a historical case study in Effective Altruism—a movement defined by the rigorous calculation of how to do the most good with limited resources. Scott Alexander argues that the missionaries to the Sandwich Islands were the original "effective altruists," driven by a cold, utilitarian calculus to save the maximum number of souls, a parallel that forces modern readers to confront the uncomfortable ethics of well-intentioned intervention.
The Calculus of Salvation
Alexander opens by dismantling the modern assumption that the desire to "save the world" is a uniquely contemporary phenomenon. He introduces Hiram Bingham, a missionary who left Boston in 1819, not out of blind zeal, but through a strategic assessment of where his efforts would yield the highest return on investment. "Unlike others who voyaged out to sea, they were not whalers, nor merchants trying to make a quick profit," Alexander writes, noting instead that their goal was to "most effectually and most extensively promote the Redeemer's cause with the means that are put into our hands." This framing is striking because it strips away the romanticism of exploration and replaces it with a spreadsheet-like logic: the Sandwich Islands were chosen because they were "neglected," "recently discovered," and, crucially, lacked the "competition from other missionaries" found in places like India or China.
The author draws a direct line between Bingham's logic and modern philanthropy, suggesting that if the Effective Altruism Forum existed in the early 19th century, a post arguing for the Sandwich Islands would have been a top-tier recommendation. "Basically all that was needed was a ship, a printing press, and missionaries to teach the Bible," Alexander observes. This comparison is provocative. It forces the reader to ask whether the method of calculation matters more than the content of the belief system. If the goal is maximizing impact, does it matter if the metric is eternal salvation or poverty reduction? The parallel holds up remarkably well, though it risks glossing over the cultural violence inherent in imposing a foreign worldview, even when calculated as "efficient."
"Basically all that was needed was a ship, a printing press, and missionaries to teach the Bible. In other words, if the EA Forum existed in the early 19th century, I could easily imagine a post arguing that bringing the Gospel to the Sandwich Islands is a promising cause area."
The Human Cost of "Civilization"
The narrative deepens when Alexander details the arrival of the missionaries, contrasting the serene Hawaiian landscape with the missionaries' perception of it as a "savage place." The text does not shy away from the brutal context of the islands' unification under King Kamehameha I, noting that the mission arrived just as the "kapu" (taboo) system was collapsing. Alexander highlights the irony that the missionaries' work was "half done for them" by Queen Ka'ahumanu, who abolished the traditional religion not for Christian reasons, but because she "felt to be degrading and oppressive" the restrictions placed on women. This historical nuance is vital; it suggests that the collapse of indigenous culture was not solely an external imposition but also an internal political maneuver.
However, the author's focus on the missionaries' "benevolence" occasionally underplays the devastation wrought by the very "civilization" they brought. While Alexander notes that the missionaries taught literacy and built houses, he also recounts the introduction of "rum and syphilis" by whalers and merchants. The text quotes Bingham's horrified reaction to the barter system: "That was the dearest bought iron, doubtless, ever bartered for guilty indulgences; and thousands have been the victims of suffering and death." This quote serves as a grim reminder that the "cost-effectiveness" of the mission was paid for in human lives, not just in the currency of souls saved. The missionaries may have viewed their work as a rescue, but for many Hawaiians, the arrival of Western technology was inextricably linked to the arrival of disease and social disintegration.
Critics might argue that Alexander's analogy to Effective Altruism is too charitable, ignoring the fact that the missionaries' "good" was defined entirely by their own cultural superiority. The "superiority" Bingham felt was not just spiritual but material; as he noted, Hawaiians could not appreciate "learning" until they saw a man who could "build a house or make a coat better than they can." This transactional view of culture—where respect is earned through technological utility—remains a potent and problematic legacy in international development today.
"By such means a missionary establishes, in their view, his superiority over them. This being done, they will listen to his religious instructions with deference, and feel confidence in him as a teacher."
The Unintended Consequences of Good Intentions
The piece concludes by examining the fragility of the mission's success, particularly through the lens of Prince George Humehume, a Hawaiian ally who accompanied the missionaries but eventually succumbed to alcoholism. Alexander uses this personal tragedy to illustrate the limits of external intervention: "Although Hiram was sad to lose a close friend, he notes that this ended up being a good thing for the mission." This cold pragmatism, where the loss of a friend is weighed against the success of the cause, underscores the central tension of the article. The missionaries were willing to sacrifice personal relationships and cultural integrity for the sake of their grand design.
The author's choice to frame this history through the lens of modern "cause areas" is a bold rhetorical move. It invites the reader to see the past not as a distant, moralizing tale, but as a mirror for current debates about global intervention. The story of Henry Opukaha'ia, the orphan whose death sparked the mission, serves as a poignant reminder of the human stories behind the statistics. Opukaha'ia's journey from a victim of Kamehameha's wars to the catalyst for a global movement illustrates how individual trauma can be weaponized for ideological ends. The missionaries believed they were saving a nation, but in doing so, they dismantled the very fabric of that nation's identity.
Bottom Line
Scott Alexander's commentary succeeds in reframing a familiar historical narrative into a sharp critique of utilitarian ethics, showing that the drive to "do the most good" is not a modern invention but a recurring human impulse with complex, often destructive, consequences. The piece's greatest strength is its refusal to villainize the missionaries, instead presenting them as sincere, rational actors whose "good intentions" were inextricably bound to cultural erasure. The biggest vulnerability lies in its tendency to equate spiritual salvation with material progress, a conflation that modern readers must critically unpack before applying these historical lessons to today's global challenges.