Utilitarianism
Utilitarianism is the view that what is intrinsically morally
valuable is human happiness. Happiness in turn is defined as the
presence of pleasure and the absence of pain.
Utilitarians are consequentialists, in that they think actions are not,
of themselves, susceptible of moral evaluation. Rather it is the
consequences of actions that are morally valuable or invaluable.
There are two forms of Utilitarianism that need to be considered.
One is called Act Utilitarianism, the other Rule Utilitarianism.
Rule Utilitarianism says that one ought always act in
accordance with that set of rule which, if generally followed,
would maximize human happiness.
The idea is this. Different sets of general principles would, if
always or mostly followed by everyone, produce different levels of
human happiness. Sets of rules which didn’t, for example, allow
for private property, would generally not produce particularly
happy societies; sets of rules which protect a freedom of speech
generally produce happier societies than sets of rules that don’t.
So a good set of rules will be one which includes private property
and a freedom of speech. The set of rules which would produce
the most happiness (and so which will contain both of the
afformentioned rules), is the right set of rules, because that set has
the consequence of producing the most human happiness.
Act Utilitarianism is different. It says one ought always act to
produce the most human happiness.
Here it is the consequences of actions, rather than rules governing
action, which determine the moral status of an action. This is not
to say that one needn’t consider the long range consequences of an
action; it is to say it is the consequences of that action alone which
matter.
So, for example, a rule utilitarian might say that a particular case of
lying (my lie to my wife about her pink tuxedo) is impermissible
because the best set of rules (i.e. the set that if generally followed
produces the most happiness) includes a rule against lying. The
reason for this is that lying in general reduces trust, and this in
general does not conduce to happiness.
But an act utilitarian might say that although lying in general is
bad, precisely because when lying is sufficiently common, general
trust is reduced, and this makes people unhappy, this particular lie
will not reduce trust, but will in fact make my wife much happier
than the alternative course of action (owning up that she looks
silly), and hence this particular lie is ok.
Mill is an act utilitarian.
Mill Defends Utilitarianism from several objections.
1. Utilitarianism is a doctrine fit for swine—it enjoins people to
seek a life of sensible pleasures, without regard for the higher
things in life.
2. Utilitarianism is unacceptably egoistic—it enjoins people to act
only in the interest of their own happiness.
3. Utilitarianism is too demanding—it requires that we act always
with the motive of producing the general good of humanity, and
this is too much.
4. Utilitarianism permits merely expedient actions (e.g. lies) which
are not really morally permissible.
5. On cannot tell, in a given situation, which action of those
available actually will maximize happiness without more and
deeper consideration that time permits.
Response to 1. Utilitarianism is a doctrine fit for swine—it enjoins
people to seek a life of sensible pleasures, without regard for the
higher things in life.
Mill differentiates between kinds of pleasure, claiming that some
are more valuable than others.
Two pleasures, say single malt and Coors, differ from one another
if in general those experienced in both prefer one to the other.
Under these conditions, say, single malt is a greater pleasure than
Coors.
Two pleasures, say single malt and reading Shakespeare, differ in
kind if, a) those experienced in both prefer one to the other, and b)
would not trade any amount of the one for any amount of the other.
So, reading Shakespeare is the greater pleasure, and is greater not
merely in degree but in kind, because those who are experienced in
both will not trade the ability to read Shakespeare for any amount
of single malt.
People are capable of pleasures far superior to those of mere
sensuality (food, sex, drink)—no one would trade their human
dignity as a person capable of the finer pleasures for the life of a
swine, however replete in sensual pleasures. Hence, these
pleasures are greater in kind, and therefore Utilitarianism enjoins
one to seek them above all.
Response to 2. Utilitarianism is unacceptably egoistic—it enjoins
people to act only in the interest of their own happiness.
Utilitarianism specifically enjoins one to maximize the total
happiness of all humans. It is not egoistic, except that one’s own
happiness contributes to the total of human happiness. In
particular, if by deciding one way you make yourself unhappy, but
more than compensate by making others happier than they
otherwise would have been (say by charity), then one ought to act
against one’s own self interest. Conversely, if acting one way will
make others mildly happy, but will so damaging to your own self
interest that you are made completely miserable, then you should
act in your own self interest, because this action maximizes the
total of human happiness.
Response to 3. Utilitarianism is too demanding—it requires that we
act always with the motive of producing the general good of
humanity, and this is too much.
Utilitarianism is in fact indifferent to the motive which drives
people to act, so long as the action in fact does maximize human
happiness.
Further, in nearly all situations, your actions will affect the
happiness of only a very few others in your immediate
community—your family, friends and perhaps neighbors. In these
contexts, your actions are typically driven by your attachments—
one tends to care about these people. So, if you let your actions be
motivated by that care, one will act in ways that maximize their
happiness. Since they are all the people you really have any effect
on, in maximizing their happiness you do all you can to maximize
the total of human happiness. So these motives are perfectly
appropriate, and commonly lead us to do exactly what we ought to
do.
Response to 4. Utilitarianism permits merely expedient actions
(e.g. lies) which are not really morally permissible.
The use of expediency here is misleading. If the consequences of a
lie were limited merely to the immediate effects on the liar and the
person to whom he lies, the worry might be right. But in fact the
effects are not so limited.
1st, note that it is essential for a prosperous society that lying be
rare—all sorts of social practices essential to civilization require
that in general people tell the truth.
2nd, note that when one tells a lie, one first always ‘enfeebles’ that
character trait which leads one to tell the truth as a general rule,
and that, 3rd, when the lie is discovered, that inclines the person
who has been deceived to be less trustful not just of you, but of
everyone. It then appears that the consequences of lying are not
confined to the direct effect of the lie on your own well-being and
those of your hearer. Those long range, indirect and largely
negative consequences outweigh the short term benefits of lying
except in extreme cases.
Moreover, these cases (as when lying saves a life) are widely
recognized as exceptions, and Utilitarianism explains why this
should be—in these cases, and these alone, the immediate benefits
of a lie outweigh the long term costs, and this is especially true
when the exceptions are clearly described and widely
acknowledged, as they are here.
Response to 5. On cannot tell, in a given situation, which action of
those available actually will maximize happiness without more and
deeper consideration that time permits.
Mill claims that one need not calculate the consequences of one’s
actions on the spot. To the contrary, prior reflection will identify
various (largely commonsensical) moral rules which nearly always
direct one to act in the way that in fact maximizes happiness.
Rules against lying and murder, for example, are good guides to
action that maximizes human happiness, one knows, or anyway
ought know, this before considering a specific act of murder or
mayhem. So there is no real problem in identifying the right
course of action. As Mill says, any theory can be shown to “work
ill if we suppose universal idiocy to be conjoined with it.”
Problems may arise with respect to exceptions to the rules of
thumb, and to cases in which the rules of thumb conflict—but this
will be no less true of other ethical theories—moral tragedy is a
feature of the human condition which no theory can avoid.
Utilitarianism at least has the virtue of providing a clear account of
why one rule rather than another should prevail in a given case.
Other objections:
In some forced choice situations, it is impossible to know what the
right action is.
You must either let X or Y die (e.g. you are choosing organ
recipients). X is a dissolute professor type, more or less
unattached, and addicted to all sorts of unsavory activities, e.g.
poker and single malt. Y is a young mother of three. This seems
to suggest favoring Y. But X might go on to invent a cure for aids.
In this case, one should favor X. How is one to know?
The moral status of your actions now depend on what others,
outside of your control, do in the future.
My typing the line above seems perfectly innocuous. But if, 10
years hence, someone decides to become a mass murderer just in
case the first we page he pulls up contains a line with the words
‘moral status of your actions now’, and he pulls up the page for
this course, I will have done something seriously wrong. But its
wrongness is not under my control.
It is hard to see how to make sense of the idea of rights on act
Utilitarian accounts (Mill himself actually has one of the better
treatments of rights from this perspective).
One has a right to X if it is immoral for someone else to interfere
with your use of X (negative rights), or to fail to provide you with
X (positive right). We typically think that people have a negative
right to life.
But consider the position of the emperor of Rome. He has lots of
bored, unemployed people living right at the edge of poverty. The
next grain shipment from Egypt has been delayed. If he does
nothing, there will be riots in the street, leaving thousands dead.
Or, he can forestall the riots by providing entertainment at the
circus—If he sacrifices 30 or 40 Christians to the lions, then there
will be no riots.
Utilitarianism suggests that the best thing to do is sacrifice the
Christians, and this seems wrong.
Mill suggests that he ought not because, in so doing, he weakens
the social institutions which make civilized life possible—he
sacrifices some who are themselves innocent for the sake of a
larger number of others.
But it is not so clear that he is right here. In fact, such sacrifice is
always a consequence of policy—whenever a policy is chosen,
some suffer (because they would have benefited from an
alternative policy) in order that others do well (they benefit from
the current policy). E.g., we allow power companies to generate
power using unclean coal. As a result, a number of people die
each year—mining coal, producing the power, and as a
consequence of the pollution produced—people who would have
lived had we forbidden the generation of power by coal fired
plants. The beneficiaries are the stockholders and those who
receive cheaper power. Whether or not this particular policy is
justifiable on utilitarian grounds, we don’t see it as shaking the
foundation of civilized society.
The repugnant conclusion.
A final objection to utilitarianism has to do with procreation.
Suppose the world could support 7 billion people who are very
happy, or 10 billion moderately happy people, or 20 billion people
with lives that are, on balance, worth living, but only just worth
living.
The total happiness might be greatest in the world with 20 billion
people, in which case utilitarianism enjoins us to procreate like
mad. But that seems wrong.
To avoid the result, some have suggested a modification—one
ought always act so as to maximize the average happiness. This
would seem to imply that the world with 7 billion people is better,
and we ought all to limit the number of children we have.
But there is another way to increase average happiness—find the
billion people who are least happy, and execute them. Then the
average happiness will increase. So this sort of utilitarianism
seems to enjoin the summary execution of the least happy people.
This is not only intuitively wrong, it is incoherent. For taken to the
limit, it implies one ought to execute everyone less happy than
you, and then commit suicide. Of course, if everyone did this, the
world would contain one more or less unhappy person.
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