Danger, danger: utilitarianism
Simply put, utilitarianism is the philosophical theory that an action is morally right when it has the consequence of maximising happiness and minimising suffering. Different forms of the theory do this in a few different ways to try and make the theory more practically useful for decision making, but for the purposes of this post that definition is sufficient. Upon what is this idea based? The main proponent of the theory, Jeremy Bentham, argues thus
Nature has placed mankind under the governance of two sovereign masters, pain and pleasure. It is for them alone to point out what we ought to do, as well as to determine what we shall do. On the one hand the standard of right and wrong, on the other the chain of causes and effects, are fastened to their throne.
At first glance this seems to make a lot of intuitive sense. Everyone seems to be seeking happiness on some level in what they do, and avoiding suffering. We also like to think we are selfless and work for the common good of everyone; under utilitarianism everyone’s happiness is as important as everyone else’s. The principle of the greatest consequential happiness is also good: for example, if I ask someone why they are running in the rain on a dark and stormy night when they don’t like running, they may well answer that it is because they want to keep fit. Why keep fit, I could then ask – and the answer would be to have a healthy and thus happy life (or to minimise the suffering of an unhealthy life). Why aim for a happy life, I could then enquire, but I wouldn’t get very far. People ‘just do’.
To me however utilitarianism leads to some unacceptable conclusions that mean it is not something that anyone should take as their account of what it is to act morally, that is to try to maximise happiness. I’m not going to try and suggest an alternative to the theory here (although my views will likely emerge in these paragraphs) but I’m going to try and show why the assumption of aiming for happiness in this way is somewhat flawed.
Firstly, the theory is entirely consequentialist: it ignores the intentions of the moral agent (the person making a moral decision) and just looks at the consequences. That means that justice, which is the punishment of the bad and reward of the good according to a society’s moral standpoint, is then about punishing those who’s actions have had bad consequences (regardless of what those may be) rather than those who have intended to cause such consequences. This doesn’t make sense: if punishment is to have the purpose of changing behaviour, then it must be based on something the moral agent has power over, and he only has power over what he tries to do, not what actually happens. For example, under any standard no-one benefits from locking someone up who accidentally caused a death through no unreasonable negligence and is incredibly sorry for it as that was in no way their intention. So the idea of judging morality by consequences is flawed.
Secondly, utilitarian theories often (there are exceptions but these generally fall back to these basic premises anyway) allow practices that can easily be argued as being never acceptable. The most common example is the idea of a situation where abuse of one person is taking place for the benefit of multiple such persons, such as a group of rapists gang-raping one individual. Their happiness in this situation as there are many of them can be said to outweigh the suffering of the victim, so utilitarianism would surely allow this. Another example that I prefer is the Ticking Time Bomb scenario: a country’s security services feel they are right to use torture on a captive in order to discover the location of and to defuse a bomb that would otherwise kill many innocent civilians. What we have here is the classic ‘the ends justify the means’ mantra; that the consequences, if good, justify whatever individually immoral actions have taken place to reach them.
There are several problems with this. In the longer term we can argue that examples such as using torture in these extreme circumstances erodes a society’s core values and opens up a slippery slope to using torture more commonly, which is something we must avoid because of all the other associated problems with the practice. Additionally, I would argue on this point that we are in no position to judge whether or not we have a right to interfere with someone’s ability to choose whether or not to speak the truth, as we don’t know whether or not their cause is in fact right and must thus maintain certain rights in order to ensure we don’t miss a vital side to a debate. Sorry if that didn’t make much sense.
Thirdly, I take issue with the sole goal of human existence being to maximise happiness for oneself and others. While it is clearly true that humans, being selfish, don’t do anything that isn’t for happiness on some level, that doesn’t mean we have to accept and cease trying to escape from this part of our nature. Just because it does make me happy to set myself the goal of knowledge and understanding even if this is painful at times and yet I still retain a layer of happiness on some level for the goal doesn’t mean that I have to do it solely for that reason. Even if I wouldn’t do it if it didn’t make me happy, it is not my sole goal. I’m aiming to understand why I require happiness, not just to gain it.
Concluding then I hope I’ve shown why utilitarianism is a dangerous theory because it ignores the important of intention in morality, allows us to slip into practices that lead to, in the longer term, a less healthy society, and about how it is far too simplistic to put the meaning of life entirely down to happiness. Utilitarianism is something we must avoid and look beyond.
This is an attempt at making a philosophical theory I’ve studied at school accessible to others and also to show why I (dis)agree with it in general terms whilst avoiding technical criticisms/advantages such as why it doesn’t work in practice. I hope it’s been interesting. Feedback welcome; I’ll probably start to do this more often since I am so into philosophy at the moment. Then we’ll start having posts about the next thing I’m madly into, perhaps maths again.