Moral Philosophy
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[Tutor’s notes in italic and underlined]
I disagree with Mill that a purely quantitative version of hedonism should be considered ‘a doctrine worthy only of swine’. The statement that a purely quantitative version of hedonism is ‘a doctrine worthy only of swine’ is a rhetorical expression emphasizing the importance of quality of pleasure over that of the quantity of pleasure: human beings possess higher faculties and capacities that allow them to experience more refined and intellectual pleasures than mere physical pleasures, for which its increased refinement and quality is seemingly unaccounted for under the quantitative version of hedonism. To reduce hedonism to a quantitative account for humans renders it almost no different from an account of hedonism for ‘swine’, since given the higher faculties of human pleasures are ‘excluded’ from the quantitative account, human pleasures can in essence be reduced to animalistic pleasures. In the above statement, Mill rejects quantitative hedonism, and in doing so implicitly implies his advocation for qualitative hedonism (for which he makes an argument in the remaining sections of the chapter).
I will first define key concepts such as pleasure and hedonism, and make the distinction between quantitative and qualitative hedonism. I will then present Mill’s General Happiness Principle (GHP), which adopts the qualitative version of hedonism, and present a clearer definition of ‘higher’ and ‘lower’ pleasures. I will then present several objections to Mill’s argument, and by proving that some of such objections are valid, I arrive at the conclusion that Mill was not entirely accurate in his criticism of quantitative hedonism.
Pleasure is defined as the experience of happiness, satisfaction and/or enjoyment. With Mill’s discussion of higher goods and pleasures, a distinction between higher and lower pleasures should be made. Higher pleasures are those that enrich and nourish the soul, are crucial to the cultivation of long-term human well-being and fulfillment and are often mental in nature, often associated with intellectual and moral pursuits; while lower pleasures are pleasures, often physical in nature, that often result in instant, short-term gratification, associated with bodily or sensual gratification.
Hedonism, in essence, is the view that maximizing pleasure or happiness and minimizing pain is the ultimate goal in life − ‘pleasure is the one and only good-making property, and pain is the one and only bad-making property’. [Brink] There are various ways in which hedonistic theories differ: for this essay, the main distinction to be made is that between quantitative and qualitative hedonism. Quantitative hedonism, also known as simple hedonism, states that the value of an experience is solely determined by the amount or intensity of pleasure it produces. According to this view, pleasure is treated as a homogeneous and measurable entity, and the goal is to maximize the total sum of pleasure experienced. Qualitative hedonism, on the other hand, considers the quality or character of pleasure as an important factor. It argues that not all pleasures are equal and that some are intrinsically more valuable or desirable than others. Higher pleasures, such as intellectual, aesthetic, or moral pleasures, are often regarded as superior to lower pleasures, such as physical or sensual gratification.
…‘pleasure is the one and only good-making property, and pain is the one and only bad-making property’.” – Is this a quotation? If so, you should cite the relevant author.
Response: Taken from Mill’s Deliberative Utilitarianism — David O. Brink
Mill, in Utilitarianism, introduces the Greatest Happiness Principle (GHP) (otherwise understood as the concept of utility), which holds that ’actions are right in proportion as they tend to promote happiness, wrong as they tend to produce the reverse of happiness. By happiness is intended pleasure, and the absence of pain; by unhappiness, pain, and the privation of pleasure’. GHP takes the qualitative version of hedonism that assesses pleasure based on quality or higher (intellectual/moral) vs. lower (physical/sensual) pleasures. The quantitative version does not make this distinction. Mill maintained that the higher, more refined and complex pleasures humans experience should be given greater consideration and weight than lower pleasures in assessing the overall quality of an experience.
To determine the strength of Mill’s argument I pose three challenges to qualitative hedonism. The first challenge is a challenge to the distinction between higher and lower pleasures of hedonism. A quantitative version of hedonism offers a more universal measure of hedonism, whereas a qualitative version of hedonism is significantly more subjective: one may view, for instance, going on vacation as a lower pleasure, in that it satisfies short-term enjoyment by providing leisurable activities for relaxation and indulgence; while another may view it as a higher pleasure, as it allows for the appreciation of new cultures, natural beauty, offering opportunities for intellectual stimulation, self-reflection, and the cultivation of aesthetic appreciation.
“…a qualitative version of hedonism is significantly more subjective…” – What does ‘subjective’ mean here? Depending on the activities that make up a given holiday (lazing on the beach vs. visiting a museum, etc.), won’t Mill think that there’s just a fact of the matter regarding which is to be viewed as a higher pleasure and which as a lower?
Response: While a qualitative version of hedonism does involve a more subjective element in terms of individuals' personal assessments and valuations of different pleasures, Mill would argue that there are nonetheless objective facts about the intrinsic qualities of these pleasures. So the subjectivity lies more in the individual's judgment, rather than in an absolute, universal standard of 'higher' versus 'lower' pleasures.
While Mill believes there are objective facts about the relative worth of different pleasures, the subjective element in how individuals perceive and judge those facts significantly undercuts the strength of his qualitative hedonism. The variable and personal nature of these judgments makes the distinction between 'higher' and 'lower' pleasures more unstable and uncertain compared to a purely quantitative approach.
Mill has attempted to make this distinction by writing that ‘of two pleasures, if there be one to which all or almost all who have experience of both give a decided preference, irrespective of any feeling of moral obligation to prefer it, that is the more desirable pleasure’; i.e. that for one who has experienced both higher and lower pleasures, if given the choice between only having one of the two, would have the higher pleasure even if accompanied with discomfort. As Mill puts, ‘it is better to be a human being dissatisfied than a pig satisfied; better to be Socrates dissatisfied than a fool satisfied.’
Yet Mill’s distinction still lacks universality. Personal preferences and cultural factors heavily influence what individuals consider pleasurable, making it challenging to establish universal criteria for differentiating between higher and lower pleasures. Proponents of this view may argue that the distinction between higher and lower pleasures is subjective and arbitrary, and that pleasure cannot be neatly categorized in terms of quality.
The second objection, perhaps a stronger objection than the former, is that higher pleasures is merely an extension of quantitative pleasure. Quantitative hedonism can accommodate for higher pleasures. Higher pleasures can be considered more valuable than lower pleasures even on the quantitative account of hedonism. The main property of higher pleasures that makes it preferable to lower pleasures is that it contributes to personal growth and development, a deeper and more lasting fulfillment, which could either prolong your own pleasure or expanding the pleasures of others, or both. Higher pleasures is still ‘quantitative’ in nature, but just considering a longer time scale or wider scope of influence.
“Higher pleasures is still ‘quantitative’ in nature, but just considering a longer time scale or wider scope of influence.” – I think this is a good way of responding to the title question, insofar as you develop a way for the quantitative hedonist to accommodate the pleasures that Mill takes to be ‘higher’ (by arguing that they are more likely to give rise to further pleasures). But isn’t Mill suggesting a more radical view, on which the ‘higher pleasures’ are to be preferred even if they are gained in a context of broader dissatisfaction? Recall his ‘Socrates dissatisfied’ line, and his claim that the ‘competent judges’ would “prefer [the higher pleasure], even though knowing it to be attended with a greater amount of discontent, and would not resign it for any quantity of the other pleasure.”
Response: to acknowledge that quantitative hedonism does not perfectly capture the willingness to pursue higher pleasures even when gained with dissatisfaction, but that its motivations and the inherent value of higher pleasures can be understood by a quantitative breakdown of an expected rising trendline in, if not one’s own happiness, then in the happiness of others over time as these higher pleasures are cultivated, even if this does not in fact come into fruition.
I will attempt to substantiate the quantification of higher pleasures by improving upon the theory of ‘hedonic adaptation’. The theory of hedonic adaptation states that humans quickly return to a relatively stable or baseline level of happiness or pleasure after experiencing positive or negative events, suggesting that the impact of pleasure on overall well-being may be temporary. This is shown in Figure 1: pleasure may cause a temporary rise in utility, which falls over time as they offer only immediate gratification and it may not be sustained. For instance, one may consume a fast-food meal and experience a temporary rise in utility as their hunger is satiated and they may find fast food tasty. However, as the meal is complete (and they may even experience perhaps a weight gain or bloating following the meal), their utility falls until they find a new pleasure to indulge in, for instance, consuming some form of entertainment, for which a temporary rise in utility is accompanied by a fall in utility after the consumption of entertainment is over.
However it is apparent that the pleasures involved in the former model of hedonic adaptation is merely of a lower quality. I make the distinction between lower and higher pleasures in my adapted version of hedonic adaptation, shown in Figure 2. Figure 2 incorporates higher pleasures in the hedonic adaptation model, showing utility over time for an individual who experiences both lower and higher pleasures. The ‘baseline’ level of happiness is not a flat line, but a trendline with a rising slope due to the long-term positive impacts of higher pleasures which allow for personal growth. The lower pleasures account for the fluctuations from the baseline as previously outlined in my explanation of Figure 1, but the upwards trend is caused by the accumulation of knowledge, skills, virtue, intellect, morality, etc., which allow us to gain happiness easier and even contribute to the happiness of others. Thus the impact of higher pleasures can be quantified even by the quantitative account of hedonism.
“The ‘baseline’ level of happiness is not a flat line, but a trendline with a rising slope due to the long-term positive impacts of higher pleasures which allow for personal growth.” – This seems plausible in theory, but might seem a bit optimistic in practice – is there empirical support for this idea? Response: perhaps it is increased maturity with aging, emotional strength and resilience that contributes to happiness. It may be the case that life is harder for those who are older, but they are able to handle it with a level of grace and mature understanding not otherwise attainable without obtaining higher pleasures accumulated from life experiences.
One may respond by stating that this view is still reductive. Some intellectuals may be more miserable and dissatisfied in the long run due to what they know; not everyone who pursues a ‘higher pleasure’ is happier in the long run. For example, some may perhaps become more disillusioned as they learn more about the world, rendering them less satisfied over time. So perhaps there is a quality to higher pleasures that cannot be quantified in terms of pleasure or utility.
In response to the following preceding objection, while it is true that dissatisfaction can occur in the pursuit of higher pleasures, perhaps on this note we may reevaluate our equation of utility to happiness. Utility may be equated to enrichment, which can include both utility in terms of happiness and knowledge. And as a side note, had those intellectuals contributed their findings, they are virtuous for sacrificing their happiness for the enrichment of others. One may then ask whether a dissatisfied knowledgeable individual who had not used their knowledge to enrich the lives of others is no better than a dissatisfied fool. Under this expanded account of utility I argue that a knowledgeable individual is better than a fool, as knowledge equips one with increased self-awareness, a broader perspective, allowing the potential of growth, expansion and the eventual restoration of and a more enriched and well-rounded life.
“Utility may be equated to enrichment, which can include both utility in terms of happiness and knowledge.” – Perhaps – but doesn’t this take us beyond hedonism, which seeks to explain welfare purely in terms of psychological states (of pleasure and pain)?
The final challenge is a challenge to hedonism itself − whether pleasure is in fact even the ultimate goal. Hedonism (or utilitarianism) is an inherently consequentialist theory, as it examines the morality of actions based on their consequences. One may argue that perhaps other approaches to ethics, such as deontological or virtue ethics, which look at the inherent moral nature of the actions or individuals themselves more than their consequences, are more important than consequentialism. For instance, hedonism may permit the act of lying if its consequences are making a group happy, whereas under deontological or virtue ethics, lying is considered wrong regardless of context as the action in itself is inherently considered morally wrong, or that it goes against the virtue of honesty. However, even deontological or virtue ethics need some basis for morality. One may merely establish them as axiomatic intrinsic values, but perhaps there is an underlying axiom for all moral codes of conduct: that a particular conduct does not inflict harm on others and attempts to maximize good where possible, which is, by definition, hedonism. So the challenge to hedonism fails.
“One may merely establish them as axiomatic intrinsic values, but perhaps there is an underlying axiom for all moral codes of conduct: that a particular conduct does not inflict harm on others and attempts to maximize good where possible, which is, by definition, hedonism.” – Perhaps – but perhaps not! Would all ethical theories subscribe to this axiom? What about views that distinguish ‘harms’ from ‘wrongs’ (rights-based views, for example)?
Perhaps the main critique with quantitative hedonism is that most views of quantitative hedonism remain focused on the seeking of lower pleasures, and diminishes the importance of higher pleasures. However, quantitative hedonism, if viewed from a longer temporal scale, may actually elevate the importance of higher pleasures, as it increases the quantity of pleasure in the long run. While there are faults to the quantitative account of hedonism, such as that some intellectuals may not in fact experience higher utility or pleasure in the long run, or that it can be reductive to reduce the intrinsic nature of higher pleasures to merely quantitative measures, I believe Mill is wrong to write quantitative hedonism off as merely ‘a doctrine worthy only of swine’, as it can be valuable if interpreted in appropriate ways.
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Yes, there are circumstances in which one may do some action A which has worse overall consequences than another action B. The notion that one is not ever to do any action other than action B, i.e. the action that yields the best overall consequence, follows a line of hard consequentialism or utilitarianism. A hard consequentialist would disagree with the above question. I argue against the hard consequentialist, in favor of performing action A over action B in circumstances where (1) one promptly and appropriately responds to their deontological virtues; (2) some stakeholder(s) has (have) stronger claim over avoiding a negative consequence or receiving a positive consequence; and (3) one attends to the ‘rationality of personal concern’, i.e. they act in response to personal (emotional) attachments.
I will first disambiguate several key terms, leaving open the exploration of their interpretations and subsequent implications in my discussion. ‘Ought’ refers to how one should act. We may interpret this as the ‘best possible’ way of acting in some situation. Note that this is not necessarily equivalent to consequentialist utilitarianism: upholding virtue may render something, that does not yield the ‘best possible’ outcome by consequentialist definition, the best possible way of handling things even if the outcome is not necessarily the ‘best’. How one should act should also be differentiated from how they in fact act. We may in fact act in a way that is not the best possible way but is nevertheless legitimate or permissible **for us to do so. This gives rise to an alternative interpretation of ‘ought’: we may [alternatively] define it in terms of legitimacy of a course of action over the best-possible definition.
<aside> <img src="/icons/arrow-right-basic_orange.svg" alt="/icons/arrow-right-basic_orange.svg" width="40px" /> “‘Ought’ refers to how one should act. We may interpret this as the ‘best possible’ way of acting in some situation. […] we may [alternatively] define it in terms of legitimacy of a course of action over the best-possible” – It would perhaps be better to talk of obligation here. The latter definition seems to weak to me as a definition of ‘ought’ – ‘ought’ implies that I must do something, whereas ‘legitimacy’ suggests only that I am permitted to do it or may (justifiably) do it. (This is relevant to your discussion of cases 7 and 8 – it would seem odd to say that I must run over my enemies.)
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The scope of the ‘overall consequence’ of an action, by default, weighs all stakeholders’ interests equally. However, as the rationality-of-personal-concern theory may later suggest, it could be criticized that personal factors concerning the actor may be weighted slightly in their favor, although this criticism is not to be immediately taken as valid.
The measurement of consequence takes the utilitarian definition: to minimize pain and maximize pleasure. The weighting of the two components are assumed equal, but it is to be noted that many of the following examples include the consequence of death, which is assumed to be, somewhat, the ultimate/absolute negative consequence. Death is the termination of life, and ipso facto the termination of our ability to ever experience pleasure again; yet it also terminates our ability to ever experience pain again. If they are truly weighed so equally death may be seen as an event with a neutral consequence. Yet it seems the case that it is worse to restrict one from ever experiencing pleasure again than to shield them from ever experiencing pain again. Or perhaps, death is defined as an absolute negative consequence ontologically.
“If they are truly weighed so equally death may be seen as an event with a neutral consequence.” – Some utilitarians sometimes claim that killing can be permissible if someone’s life is likely to have a net negative utility (other things being equal) – so perhaps they would take expected utility to make a difference to the wrongness of killing (and the ‘neutrality’ of death).
Firstly, we may act in a way that yields a worse overall consequence when attending to our deontological virtues. One may attempt to develop some ‘bill of virtues’, encompassing a baseline set of ethical rules that are not to be trespassed regardless of utilitarian considerations. The following list is not exhaustive but demonstrates what such a list might look like:
“One may attempt to develop some ‘bill of virtues’…” – Might it be more apt to talk about ‘duties’ rather than ‘virtues’ here? A virtue is usually thought of as a stable disposition of character to act in a particular (good) way, whereas these look more like general moral rules expressing duties.
Don’t kill or harm the innocent.
Don’t cause unnecessary pain or suffering.
Don't lie, deceive, or break agreements.
Don’t coerce or manipulate others against their will.
Help those in need when it is within your means to do so.
Promote the welfare and happiness of others whenever possible.
Ensure equal access to opportunities and resources.
Recognize and reciprocate acts of kindness.
A slight distinction is to be made between (a)-(d) and (e)-(h). The former all begin with ‘don’t’: they are examples of ‘negative virtues’, and one has a responsibility to not break these rules as it is inherently wrong to do so. The latter are all examples of ‘positive virtues’, which one has a responsibility to attend to whenever possible − ‘possible’ entailing the non-violation of negative virtues. In such a sense, one must always attend to negative virtues before positive virtues. Take the following case of David:
David is a transplant surgeon. Five of his patients need new parts − respectively, a new heart, liver, stomach, spleen, and spinal cord − to survive. However all are of the same, relatively rare, blood-type. David has found a healthy specimen with that very blood-type. He can either (A) refrain from taking the alive healthy specimen’s organs and let his five patients die, or (B) kill an alive individual to save his five patients. (Thomson 205)
It is the case that the overall consequence of A is worse than B as more people die, and the hard consequentialist would, in virtue of this, opt obviously for B. Yet intuitively, it seems David should opt for B. The explanation of this moral intuition is that it violates item (a) of the moral code: David would have to chop up an innocent person without their consent against their will to help those in need.
Yet one that believes in negative responsibility would believe that killing and letting die are essentially just as bad. Bernard Williams describes it in the following way: 'if I am ever responsible for anything, then I must be just as responsible for things that I allow or fail to prevent, as I am for things that I myself, in the more everyday restricted sense, bring about' (Williams 1973b: 95). In other words, we are equally responsible for the bad things we let happen than for the bad things we do. That is to say, failure to attend to (e) is a violation of a negative virtue − perhaps it could be rephrased as ‘Do not let die or suffer’. Take the following case of Edward:
Edward is driving a trolley with failed brakes. He will (A) drive into and kill five people if he keeps going. Or he can (B) choose to turn the trolley, killing the one person on the right-hand track. (Thomson 206)
The consequentialist would, as usual, opt for B. According to the original bill of virtues, we would advise against B even though B yields the most optimal consequence, as ‘turning the trolley’ is in effect active participation in the act of killing someone − in A, it is not necessarily him that ‘kills’ the five, but the malfunctioning of the brakes. But if one believes in negative responsibility, killing and letting die are rendered equally bad. It is just as bad that Edward lets the five die as it is bad that he kills the one on the right-hand track. His lack of intervention caused the death of five people. This of course depends on one’s view of responsibility and what they consider to be on their list of negative virtues. But we can conclude this: when given the option between violating one of two negative virtues, we may attend to consequentialism. Some may also perceive ‘turning the trolley’ as merely deflecting the consequence onto a smaller group instead of killing them. This renders Edward’s problem of a different nature than David’s, and explains why it is more permissible for Edward to turn the trolley than for David to extract his patient’s organs. Deflecting is more permissible than killing.
“Some may also perceive ‘turning the trolley’ as merely deflecting the consequence onto a smaller group instead of killing them. This renders Edward’s problem of a different nature than David’s, and explains why it is more permissible for Edward to turn the trolley than for David to extract his patient’s organs.” – Could you say more about why ‘deflecting’ is more permissible than (directly) killing? Does the ‘directness’ of the consequence matter? (Compare the alternative trolley problem where a man with a large backpack is pushed onto the track to stop the trolley. This is usually thought to be wrong or impermissible in a way that redirecting the trolley is not.)
Secondly, we may sometimes act in favor of a minority of people over the majority if the minority group has a greater claim over avoiding a negative consequence or receiving a positive consequence. What constitutes this claim can be illustrated through the following examples:
Suppose there are six men who are dying. Five are standing in one clump on the beach. One is standing further along. Floating on the tide is a marvelous pebble, the ‘Health-Pebble’: it cures what ails you. The one needs for cure the whole pebble. Each of the other five need only 1/5 of it. Now suppose the Health-Pebble is floating towards the one, and you are in a position to deflect it. You can either (A) not intervene, letting the five die and the one survive, or (B) deflect the health-pebble to the five, letting the one die. (Thomson 209)
It should be noted that the ‘Health-Pebble’ is in this case a good: it is a cure, an additional good rather than an act of malice. In the case of goods, consequentialist deflection seems reasonable if and only if the one has no more claim to it than the five. If we do not see the existing states of affairs as something that gives the one more claim over the five (and in fact it is probably unlikely that it is so), and nothing else gives the one more claim over it, e.g. that the Health-Pebble was promised to the one, we should opt for B. Now consider the following case where it is not the deflection of good, but evil:
“If we do not see the existing states of affairs as something that gives the one more claim over the five (and in fact it is probably unlikely that it is so), and nothing else gives the one more claim over it, e.g. that the Health-Pebble was promised to the one, we should opt for B.” – How might this apply to real world issues? Suppose the NHS can buy five life-saving drugs for a common disease for the same price as one (more expensive) life-saving drug for a rare disease – what conclusion might considerations of fairness (and in particular, the claim of the person with the rare disease) suggest here?
Large City is in avalanche country − the risk of avalanche is high. Founders and settlers acknowledge and accept this risk. Small City is not in avalanche country − founders and settlers settled for a less lovely city, precisely because they didn’t want the avalanche risk. Suppose an avalanche is heading towards Large City, and we can either (A) do nothing and let the avalanche kill Large City, or (B) deflect the avalanche to Small City. (Thomson 212)
Deflection of a threat takes a similar nature to deflection of a good, and so we can apply the following principle: Deflection of a threat or good from a larger to smaller group of people is permissible if and only if agents in the smaller group have no more claim to protection from threat or attainment of the good. This case demonstrates an instance where the smaller group has more claim to protection from the avalanche, in virtue of their giving up certain qualities of their city precisely for protection − in other words they were promised safety; whereas Large City accepted the risk, such that B, the non-consequentialist option, is preferred.
So far we have only looked at deflection. What about in acts of murder or explicit harm − does the claim-to principle still hold? We may revisit David’s case, with the following modification:
Suppose that the healthy specimen had caused the five to catch the ailments because of which they need new parts — he deliberately did this in hopes the five would die. (Thomson 213)
This gives the healthy specimen significantly lesser claim over his own organs, as he in essence attempted to murder the five.
“This gives the healthy specimen significantly lesser claim over his own organs, as he in essence attempted to murder the five.” – Is this right? I’m not sure (attempted) murderers automatically forfeit their rights or claims in (quite!) this way.
Suppose that the healthy specimen had explicitly given his verbal consent for his organs to be harvested and donated to the five − he is their father and want his children to survive.
In this case the claim to the organs is given to the five by the healthy specimen, so in virtue of recognizing the familial bond and desire to save the children, and respecting the individual's self-determination, the course of action that facilitates the organ donation would be supported. However, one may say that one does not have the right to surrender his own life (i.e. that virtue (a) is without exception), so such ‘verbal consent’ is insufficient claim, although this view is subject to further scrutiny (see ‘measurement of consequence’ section).
Evaluating the above, it seems that what constitutes this ‘claim-over’ from a big to small group seems typically interconnected with the deontological virtues previously mentioned. The health-pebble case aligns with virtue (e) and (g) (as without the deflection the health-pebble would be less equally distributed than with deflection); the avalanche case aligns with virtue (c) as Small City was promised safety while Large City agreed to accepting potential risk; and the variants on the healthy-specimen case align with (a) and (e) respectively, with the one violating (a) in the former and helping the one fulfill (e) in the latter.
We may conclude it as follows: one has a greater claim over some outcome in their favor if (A) not giving them the favorable outcome would violate a negative virtue; (B) the other party has committed some negative virtue specifically against them; (C) the other party would fulfill a positive virtue if said outcome is actualized; and/or (D) they have committed positive virtues specifically towards the other party. I am hesitant to make a certain claim on the exhaustiveness of these conditions but they should make up most, if not all, of cases. Note that this does not necessarily constitute a right to act in such a way, but when given a dichotomous choice between two options that both to some degree violate deontological virtues, one may appeal to claims rather than strict consequentialism.
Thirdly, the rationality of personal concern allows us to act upon agent-relative reasons instead of utilitarianism. The rationality of personal concern posits that ‘our emotional attachments to others, and indeed to ourselves, do then reveal to us certain reasons which impartial utilitarianism does not capture’ (Crisp 145), which Crisp calls ‘agent-relative reasons’. The neglect of such reasons, as utilitarianism does, renders actions under consequentialism alienating and demanding. Consider these variations on the trolley problem.
You are the driver. Your mother and your boyfriend are tied to the left-hand track. Your five worst enemies are tied to the right-hand track.
Consider case 7. You are given a third option: to press a button which allows the trolley to self-destruct, killing you onboard.
How we ‘ought’ to respond then varies with whether we take legitimacy of action or best-possible-action as our interpretation of ought as aforementioned. The best possible action, taking both consequentialism and deontological virtues into account is to, respectively, drive over your mother and boyfriend, and self-destruct, taking equal the value of all lives. But this is too demanding: it is extremely difficult for one to act in complete disregard of their emotional attachments. It may be the case that it was the best possible action taking everyone’s stakes as equal, but perhaps it can be argued that the stake of the actor might be weighed slightly more, for the others have no say over what the actor ultimately decides to do, and the decision ultimately hinges on their evaluation. Perhaps it is biased to act in one’s own favor, but emotional attachments to one’s loved ones and one’s own life is undoubtedly strong − so strong that it gives one some legitimacy in acting the way they do. Hence if we take the legitimacy interpretation of ‘ought’ it is permissible for us to kill our enemies and so we ought to do so. Such agent-relative reasons are of course with limit; we shall only act in such a way if it is more emotionally distressing for us to act otherwise.
“But this is too demanding: it is extremely difficult for one to act in complete disregard of their emotional attachments.” – How would you respond to someone who replied that acting morally just is very demanding and difficult?
“Perhaps it is biased to act in one’s own favor, but emotional attachments to one’s loved ones and one’s own life is undoubtedly strong − so strong that it gives one some legitimacy in acting the way they do.” – What if my emotional attachments are the result not of familial bonds, but of an obvious bias, such as nationalistic fervour? It seems as if part of the point of morality is to override such particularistic attachments in the name of a more universal viewpoint.
“…it is permissible for us to kill our enemies [in this situation] and so we ought to do so.” – I realise that you are proposing a way of using the word ‘ought’ here, but in general it seems odd to infer from ‘x is permissible’ to ‘I ought to do x’. In fact, this seems to get things the wrong way round! (If I ought to do x, then I am certainly permitted to do x, but the entailment only goes one way.) ‘Ought’ means something stronger – that I must do x, or that I have done something wrong if I fail to do x.
“…we shall only act in such a way if it is more emotionally distressing for us to act otherwise.” – But should emotional distress really count for more than the lives of the individuals who would be killed in this scenario? (Would it be a good justification to their loved ones, for example, to say, “Well, to save them would have been emotionally distressing to me!”)
In conclusion, I determine three circumstances in which, if any are met, render it permissible for one to do action A, the action that yields the worse overall consequence, rather than action B:
Acting upon consequentialism violates negative virtues.
The minority has a stronger claim to protection or attainment than the majority.
It is more emotionally distressing for the actor to act otherwise.
I should note the assumptions or stances I have taken to establish this conclusion:
For the sake of the argument I assume death is ontologically bad, allowing us to conduct moral evaluations on all cases of death simply.
I take negative virtues to be prioritized over positive virtues.
I take letting die and/or deflecting to be better than killing (i.e. I disagree with Williams’s negative responsibility), even if they produce the same consequence; for the action of killing explicitly violates negative virtues. This impacts the ‘bill of virtues’ that support circumstance 1.
I take deflection of good to be equivalent as deflection of evil.
I take the legitimacy definition of ‘ought’ (i.e. you ought to do something if given a legitimate reason) as it renders morality more humane, allowing for circumstance 3.
I, however, allow only the above leniency for agent-relative reasons: I do not weigh the agent’s stakes more than the others.
“I disagree with Williams’s negative responsibility…” – To be clear, I think Williams would also disagree with a strong notion of negative responsibility. Williams is generally unsympathetic to consequentialism, and I suspect that the quotation you gave from him above is a clear articulation of his opponent’s position rather than his own.
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The above statement is a challenge to the integrity objection to consequentialism. The statement posits that appealing to integrity is not a valid objection as if the principles of integrity are good, the principles of integrity are a part of consequentialism and appealing to them is inherently consequentialist; and if they are not, the principles of integrity are inherently bad, and the challenge to consequentialism from integrity automatically fails.
I will argue against this statement in favor of the integrity objection. I justify my argument in light of (1) the lack of nuance in its predisposed definition of ‘good’; (2) even if consequentialism is true about the ultimate nature of the best state of affairs, adhering to consequentialist moral decision-making strictly, in absence of a list of virtuous or moral principles, in fact ironically does not lead to the best outcome; and (3) the intrinsic non-hedonic value of virtue and duty.
According to the statement, integrity is, inherently defined, sticking to your ‘set of principles’. If principles are good, integrity is part of consequentialism and not an argument against it. If principles are bad, integrity is not a sound argument. According to virtue ethics, principles are, essentially, virtues. We can use the ‘seven virtues and seven vices’ as a guide for what these principles may look like. The seven virtues are chastity, temperance, charity, diligence, patience, kindness, and humility. Chastity denotes the act of abstaining from sexual gratification; temperance, similar to chastity, denotes voluntary self-restraint (in a more general sense). Charity denotes the act of selfless giving towards those in need; similarly, kindness denotes the display of genuine compassion and consideration towards others’ needs. Diligence denotes persistent hard work to achieve some outcome; similarly, patience denotes tolerating a lack of immediate (lower) gratification for some later outcome of a higher pleasure. Humility is the view of oneself as, not necessarily inferior to others, but not more important than others; in addition to estimating one’s own merits modestly and being open to learning from others.
Are the seven virtues ‘good’? We cannot answer this question without clearly defining what it means to be ‘good’. By the hedonist, goodness is viewed along the lines of the maximization of pleasure and the minimization of pain. I use hedonism and consequentialism interchangeably in this essay, as consequentialism, the ‘best possible outcome’, takes the above definition of goodness. Even among hedonism we can divide the way in which we view goodness. Explanatory hedonism looks at what makes things good for people: an explanatory hedonist believes that it is the pursuit of ‘pleasantness’ that motivates human behavior, i.e. maximizing pleasure and minimizing pain. Substantive hedonism looks at what things are (intrinsically) good for people − which, according to them, are pleasurable experiences and/or mental states. (A pure hedonist believes in both explanatory and substantive hedonism, but one can of course be one without the other.)
If one takes the explanatory hedonism definition of ‘good’, the seven virtues would be evaluated solely based on their ability to produce pleasure or happiness for the individual. Diligence and patience concern self-control; what makes them good for people is that they allow one to ultimately reap large rewards of pleasure after having exercised them for a prolonged period of time. Chastity and temperance also concern self-control, but in a sense that one does not fall victim to the unpleasant negative effects of bad habits such as addiction, control over impulses, etc., including those sexual in nature. Charity and kindness are (mostly) innately pleasurable in nature, as John Skorupski puts it: ‘The generous man desires to give because he takes pleasure in giving’ − this is because charity and kindness gives rise to (highly) pleasant social interactions and even strengthens interpersonal relationships in which both sides gain. Humility is good insofar as it prevents one from being led by their own ego, and allow for easy learning from others, which produces a great amount of pleasure.
If such pleasure, or pleasantness, is all there is to the seven virtues, virtue is congruent with (explanatory) hedonism. However there are certainly interpretations under which the seven virtues are not good in such a hedonistic sense. Substantive hedonism, though mostly similar to explanatory hedonism in its evaluation of virtue, might perhaps display a stronger stringency with the ‘goodness’ of virtue, it being concerned with pleasurable experiences alone. While exercising kindness, charity and humility can produce are inherently pleasurable experiences, the rest of the virtues (diligence, chastity, temperance and patience) seem to be developed amongst the denial or active rejection of pleasurable experiences. For instance, chastity and temperance could be seen as ‘bad’ if they prevent one from experiencing pleasurable sexual or sensory experiences. Patience could be ‘bad’ if the ultimate gratification one receives does not outweigh the prolonged unpleasant experiences they had to endure. Even humility may be ‘bad’ if one gives up opportunities for personal pleasure and achievement due to their downplaying or reduction of its importance. While they certainly could produce pleasures as an end reward, it is not always the case that the virtuous do reap such rewards. The net hedonic impact of each virtue is, then, not always positive according to the substantive hedonist’s calculation.
Given the above, there are certainly accounts of both explanatory and substantive hedonism which would not determine the seven virtues as ‘good’. Yet virtues are so respectable because in order to develop them, one makes the effort to reject the (1) immediate fulfillment of (2) their own pleasure. In essence one develops virtue essentially by rejecting hedonism (at least an ‘immediate’ form of it). By utilitarian definition, virtues are not always good, as the net hedonic value of virtue is not always positive (or the pleasurable experiences arising from virtue do not always outweigh the unpleasurable).
Perhaps, by a long-run utilitarian definition that takes into account the effects of virtue on other people, virtue always produces the best possible outcome, in that (1) virtue is a ‘higher pleasure’ that accounts for a greater overall hedonic value (possibly due to the character it builds); (2) acting virtuously brings pleasure to the people impacted by the virtuous acts; (3) virtues equip a person with the tools needed to navigate through various struggles or hardships in the future or long run. It may be hard to obtain this by utilitarian calculation, but if hedonism is truly all-encompassing in its scope it could potentially accommodate for virtue as a part of it.
Another issue with utilitarianism/consequentialism that virtue ethics can capture but consequentialism cannot (at least not as effectively) is the hedonic view of vices. Each of the seven virtues have their vice counterparts, or corresponding ‘sins’. The seven sins are pride, greed, wrath, envy, lust, gluttony and sloth. Pride, the counterpart of humility, is the exaggeration of one’s own importance and achievements, often to be above others; greed, the counterpart of temperance, an intense and selfish desire for something (usually material gains or social status); wrath, the counterpart of patience, describes anger and vengeance; envy, the counterpart of charity, an intense, malicious longing for someone else’s possessions; lust, the opposite of chastity, the (often unrestrained) indulgence in strong sexual desires; gluttony, the counterpart of temperance, overindulgence in food and drink; sloth, the counterpart of diligence, describing laziness.
Now to ask an intuitively ludicrous question: are the seven sins ‘good’? Surely sins are, by the very implication of their name, not ‘good’ for someone. But the hedonist could make a case for the ‘goodness’ of the seven sins. Vices arise due to consequentialist lines of thought: as the explanatory hedonist posits, humans are motivated by the maximization of pleasure and the minimization of pain. Each of the vices constitute some hedonistic, almost-immediate shortcut to pleasure, and are in most cases carried out in a way that seemingly reduces or suppresses pain. Vices are, in other words, hedonistically motivated (in congruence with the explanatory hedonist), and experientially compensates for the lack of pleasurable experiences experienced when exercising virtue (in congruence with the substantive hedonist).
However, it is often the case that vices ultimately bring negative impacts to an individual who engages with them. Unhealthy pride and greed can lead to envy when unsatiated, which can lead to wrath, which has both negative impacts on the individual and the targets of envy or wrath when acted upon. Lust and gluttony, when uncurbed, can lead to unhealthy addiction, and in the case of lust, can lead to unwanted sexual aggression towards their targets of lust. Sloth, though initially an act of avoidance of the pain that comes from hard work or persistence, can lead to a person’s potential remaining untapped and unfulfilled, and can contribute to a sense of unaccomplishment, lethargy or demotivation.
It can therefore be said that vices only fulfill lower pleasures and not higher pleasures, and therefore, utilitarian calculations would account for lesser hedonic value in the immediate pleasures fulfilled by lust. We can then just say that vices are not good according to consequentialism, and individuals who think otherwise have merely conducted imperfect utilitarian calculations.
However, humans are cognitively myopic. We are often not able to assess the long-run effects of our actions. From such we can’t make sound judgements if we conduct utilitarian calculations. Due to our myopia, consequentialism in practice is often myopic to at least some extent. Adhering to virtue ethics then acts as the antidote to our utilitarian myopia, as they guide us away from the pitfalls of purely consequentialist evaluations of thought. Integrity through the lens of virtue ethics can thus definitely be an argument against consequentialism in practice.
Yet consequentialism in theory, when taking into account the increased weight of higher pleasures, the long-run outcomes of actions, and the non-egoistic consideration of the pleasure and pain of others, may seem to entail virtue ethics if we are unable to prove that such principles are irreducible to the mere experience of pleasure and pain.
I argue that the above view is false: we can in fact prove the maintenance of virtuous principles to be irreducible to mere pleasure and pain. For instance, one may develop strong admiration and respect for a virtuous individual. Admiration and respect, while are pleasurable mental states, are not reducible to merely positive mental states. They inspire, motivate and spark a deeper meaning to life and fulfillment that is not translatable or reducible to pleasure. The development of virtue can cultivate and enrich individuals even if they do not experience pleasurable states, and sometimes especially if they do not receive such pleasurable gratification. This is an intrinsic value of virtue that is not captured by consequentialism, at least hedonistic consequentialism. Perhaps one could argue that in the long run, cultivating moral integrity can lead to better overall consequences than a purely utilitarian, ends-justify-the-means approach, and so virtue could be perhaps consequentialist in a non-hedonistic interpretation of it, or if the best consequence is not defined in terms of pleasure.
Principles can also encompass the fulfillment of moral duties, by the view of deontological ethics. As I have proven in my previous essay, deontological moral duties can also override the maximization of pleasure in terms of how we ought to act. Yet even though these principles do not maximize pleasure and pain, these principles are intrinsically good because they ensure that negative duties, which must not be violated as it is gravely wrong to violate even if they produce the ‘best possible outcome’, are always attended to (unless if not given the option e.g. in the trolley problem and its variations, under which violation of such duties would be minimized).
The proof of principles, whether in the form of virtues or moral duties, being intrinsically good apart from pleasure and pain highlights a logical fallacy with the statement: it is rule-circular, i.e. it presumes consequentialism as the definition of good. The statement assumes the definition of ‘good’ is sticking to what produces the best possible outcome: the maximization of pleasure and avoidance of pain. But ‘goodness’ is not just that − virtue is ‘good’ in itself even though it does not maximize pleasure, or produce the best possible outcome.
To recapitulate my argument, integrity is the act of sticking to principles. Principles (if meaning virtue) is only consequentialist in theory, and incompatible with the myopic hedonist. However, principles including moral duties can for sure be a strong argument against consequentialism. Therefore, compromise should be found between sticking to principles (whether virtue or deontology) and consequentialism. We should establish a set of baseline moral duties to attend to. Virtues should be upheld whenever possible, and consequentialist lines of thought luring to vice should be cautioned against. This will allow for theoretical consequentialism to be put into practice more effectively, avoiding the pitfalls of shortsightedness in evaluation of hedonic consequences.
Tutor: This was a decent essay, with some interesting discussion of the relationship between consequentialism and the virtues. However, I think your answer was a bit less focussed on the title question than it could have been, and in some ways much of this discussion would have been more relevant to the other essay option. The most significant omission is that you don’t really discuss the canonical version of the integrity objection advanced by Bernard Williams – it would be good to explain some of the cases Williams uses to illustrate that objection, and to consider in more detail what exactly the objection amounts to. Is he just saying that ‘sticking to your principles’ is sometimes better than acting so as to bring about the best consequences (as the title statement seems to imply), or is the point more subtle than that?
