An Introduction to Ethics, for Training Colleges/Chapter 12
CHAPTER XII.
THE PLACE OF PLEASURE IN THE MORAL LIFE.
§ 1. Pleasure and Life. In every life pleasure plays a part of great importance. Whether a man be a saint or a sinner, a roué or an ascetic, a "good fellow" or a hermit, he cannot get away from pleasure. He may wallow in the enjoyment of pleasures, or spurn them with a noble contempt, but in both cases pleasure is a factor to be reckoned with. All or nearly all our conduct is pervaded by pleasurable or painful feeling. All our experience is accompanied by what the psychologist terms an affective tone, or a hedonic tone, which may either be agreeable or disagreeable. The affective tone of some of our perceptions and actions may be so vague as to be apparently non-existent. When we are doing some very simple and habitual action, such as dressing or sharpening a pencil, the hedonic tone of the action may not be present in our consciousness at all. With reference to pleasure and pain the action is simply neutral. But even such simple actions tend to have a definite affective tone. If the morning be cold, dressing is felt to be disagreeable, and when one is using a very sharp knife the act of sharpening the pencil may be distinctly pleasant. We may affirm, then, that practically all our experience has an affective tone. It is either pleasant or unpleasant, either agreeable or disagreeable.
It is obviously important to consider what attitude we ought to adopt towards pleasure. Is pleasure good or evil? Ought we to seek pleasure or shun it? No question, perhaps, in the whole field of ethics has been discussed with such persistence; and on no question has there been more strongly marked diversity of opinion.
§ 2. Hedonism. From the dawn of ethical speculation there have been thinkers who have maintained that the great aim of life is the attainment of pleasure. These thinkers are called Hedonists. (The name is derived from the Greek word for pleasure.) One of the earliest Hedonists was Aristippus, who was born about 435 B.C. He held that the great aim of life is to enjoy the pleasures of the moment. Man should not "look before and after"; he should think only of the moment, and throw all his energies into the enjoyment of each pleasure as it comes. The hot blood of Africa ran in Aristippus's veins, and he and his followers put their theory into practice by indulging in all sorts of pleasures indiscriminately.
This crude theory was polished and elevated by Epicurus (341-270 B.C.), who saw that an existence made up simply of pleasurable moments could not be the best life for man. Such a life might be adequate for animals. But it is man's nature to be able to reflect and anticipate; man's life is not merely a series of disconnected moments, it is a relatively persistent and consistent whole. Therefore, Epicurus says, man should not desire simply the pleasures of the moment. He should aim at pleasures that endure, lasting satisfactions, permanent states of agreeable feeling. Hence the Epicureans maintain that calm satisfaction is preferable to violent excitement. The aim of life is to attain a pleasurable tranquillity, an equable contentment with whatever gifts fortune may deign to bestow. The Epicureans also practised what they preached, and in their quiet garden at Athens they enjoyed a simple life of pleasant contentment and peaceful calm.
§ 3. Utilitarianism. Hedonism was more systematically formulated by Bentham (1748-1832) and John Stuart Mill (1806-1873), and came to be called Utilitarianism. Utilitarianism is thus a developed Hedonism. All Utilitarians may be called Hedonists, but all Hedonists are not Utilitarians. Utilitarianism is a kind of Hedonism. Utilitarianism differs in two respects from the Hedonism of the Epicureans.
(1) It is not selfish. It does not bid a man take into account only his own pleasures. It commands him to have regard to the general happiness of the community as a whole. The Epicurean did not explicitly consider the pleasure of others. Each man was concerned only with himself and took an interest only in his own pleasures; and in so far as he took account of the pleasure of other persons, e.g. his friends, it was because his own pleasure lay in consulting their interests and desires. Utilitarianism, on the contrary, insists that the moral end is "not the agent's own greatest happiness, but the greatest amount of happiness altogether." Each person should be just as eager that others should attain pleasure as that he should. "As between his own happiness and that of others, Utilitarianism requires him to be as strictly impartial as a disinterested and benevolent spectator." The Utilitarians state, as a fundamental formula, "Each to count for one, and no one for more than one." Utilitarianism demands perfect impartiality in conduct: we must treat each man as one whose claim to enjoy pleasure is equal to our own; and we must aim at the greatest possible amount of pleasure for all human beings or for all sentient creatures.
(2) Utilitarianism also differs from earlier types of Hedonism by introducing a distinction of quality between pleasures. Before J. S. Mill no Hedonist admitted that pleasures can differ in quality. The only differences between pleasures, it was believed, were quantitative. If the amount of pleasure was the same, the value of it was the same. The only way one pleasure could be superior to another was that there should be more of it. The Epicureans had, indeed, distinguished pleasures of the mind from pleasures of the body; but not because the one is better than the other. Rather, pleasures of the mind, being finer and calmer, are more lasting than those of the body, and less likely to lead to painful consequences. Hence they are greater in amount.
But Mill protested that if we are to be true to the facts of life, we must recognise that pleasures differ in quality as well as in quantity. "It would be absurd," says Mill, "that while, in estimating all other things, quality is considered as well as quantity, the estimation of pleasure should be supposed to depend on quantity alone." Thus, instead of saying, "Seek the most pleasure possible," Mill would say, "Seek the best pleasure possible." Now the quality of pleasure can be judged only by those who have had the widest and wisest experience of it. Connoisseurs in pleasure will balance pleasures against one another, and "if one of the two is, by those who are competently acquainted with both, placed so far above the other that they prefer it, even though knowing it to be attended with a greater amount of discontent, and would not resign it for any amount of other pleasure which their nature is capable of, we are justified in ascribing to the preferred enjoyment a superiority in quality, so far outweighing it as to render it, in comparison, of small account."
Now, this distinction which Mill introduced puts a higher complexion on Hedonism. "Seek the best pleasure possible" is clearly a more elevating precept than "Seek the most pleasure possible." But the two main criticisms to which all Hedonism is open apply also to the lofty Utilitarianism of Mill. For there are two convictions which are common to all Hedonists, whether Utilitarians or not. These are (1) that pleasure is the only object of desire, and (2) that pleasure is the standard of moral action and moral judgment. Pleasure for Hedonism is both the moral end and the moral standard. These points are very important, and the Hedonist view must be examined with some care.
§4. Is Pleasure the Moral Standard? Utilitarianism maintains that pleasure is the only moral standard. If I want to know, in given circumstances, whether an act is right or not, I have only to ask myself, Does it (along with its consequences) contain the greatest amount of pleasure possible under the circumstances? If it does, it is right. If it does not, it is wrong. Now this standard seems at first sight a delightfully simple one to apply. If three courses of action are open to me, one of which contains 2 units of pleasure, another 3, another 4, then the right course of action is that which contains 4 units of pleasure, because 4>3, and 4>2. But if it were possible to combine the first two courses of action, then the combined course is right, because 3 + 2 > 4. Now, all this sounds very simple. But as soon as we examine the standard a little more closely, we find that it is, in reality, very complicated indeed.
In the first place, how are we to calculate the quantitative value of pleasures? Suppose at a particular juncture two courses of action are open to us, how are we to decide which is the more pleasant? Bentham answered that these lines of conduct should be considered in various aspects, with regard to (a) the intensity of the pleasures connected with them, (b) their duration, (c) their certainty, (d) their nearness or remoteness, (e) their fecundity, i.e. their tendency to produce other pleasures, (f) their purity, i.e. their freedom from pain, and (g) their extent, i.e. the number of persons who are affected by them. The values of the pleasures under all these heads should be summed up, and the pains deducted. This process should be repeated for every possible course of action, and that line of conduct which at the end stands highest in value is the right action. But it is very evident that it is impossible to give numerical values to pleasures, and that even if the elaborate process of addition and subtraction could be performed, it would take such a long time that it would generally be impossible to use the standard in dealing with the ordinary difficulties and perplexities of life.[1]
Further, Bentham assumes that we have the power of foretelling accurately the nature of the pleasures and pains attaching to the various possible courses of action. But it is a fact of common experience that this is often quite impossible. Our forecasts of future pleasures and pains are often very far wide of the mark. All we can do is to calculate probable pleasant and painful consequences. After all our elaborate calculation, our standard does not tell us that such and such an action is right: it merely enables us to say that it is probably right.
And another grave objection to pleasure as the standard is that it is open to all the criticisms that we have already brought against the general theory according to which the consequences of an action determine its tightness or wrongness. The view we are considering at present says that an action is right if its total consequences are probably more pleasurable than those of any other possible action under the circumstances. That is, the consequences of the action constitute the test of its Tightness or wrongness. And this, as we have seen, is not really a moral standard.[2]
§5. Is Pleasure the Object of Desire? Hedonism maintains not only that pleasure is the object of desire, but that it is the only object of desire. As a matter of fact, say the Hedonists, all men desire pleasure; and when they seem to desire other things, they desire them only because they are means to the attainment of pleasure. Ultimately the only thing desired is pleasure.
In examining this view, we must first make clear the meaning of pleasure. In ordinary speech we talk of pleasures as if they were definite things. We say that a certain man is "a lover of pleasures rather than a lover of God," and we speak of the pleasures of the chase or the pleasures of love or the pleasures of reading. In all these cases we ordinarily mean by pleasures the things in which we find satisfaction. Now, strictly, "pleasure" does not mean the object which gives us satisfaction, but the actual feeling of satisfaction which we have when we attain the object of our desire. Pleasure means agreeable feeling: it is, as we have seen, the affective tone of our experience. Pleasures are nothing but the feelings which accompany the attainment (and in some cases the pursuit) of the object of our desire. What we desire is always a particular object or group of objects, or a particular activity or system of activities. The acquisition of these objects and the performance of these activities is accompanied by the agreeable feeling-tone which we call pleasure.
From this analysis it should be clear that (a) while we usually desire objects, the attainment or pursuit of which will be attended by pleasant feeling, (b) we may, and often do, desire objects which we recognise will be accompanied by unpleasant feeling, and (c) we very rarely make mere pleasant feeling the object of our desire. A word or two must be said on each of these points. It will be convenient to take them in reverse order.
(1) In most of our desires two or more objects are involved. One of these is proximate, the other is remote; one is narrow and limited, the other is wide and comprehensive. If I desire to finish writing this chapter, the proximate and narrow object of my desire is simply the cessation of the tiring physical activity of writing. But another object, more comprehensive and remote, is implied. I desire to reach the end of the chapter because it contributes to the completion of the book, and I desire to finish the book in order that it may be in the hands of my students. As we have seen in Chapter IV., our desires can be organised under more and more comprehensive desires, until they become entirely systematised in accordance with a dominant ambition. It is only in very rare cases that pleasant feeling is either a proximate or remote object of desire. No doubt there have been men whose desires have centred in enjoying the greatest variety of pleasurable feelings, and who have organised their whole lives in deference to this aim. And there are men who desire particular objects solely because of the pleasurable feeling which accompanies their attainment. But such men are exceptions. What we desire, in general, is a particular object. We enjoy the feelings which accompany its pursuit and attainment. But what we desire is the object, in so far as it contributes to the realisation of our dominant aims and purposes.
(2) We may desire objects though we are aware that their attainment will be attended with disagreeable feelings. A man desires to be a martyr or to die in his country's cause, though he realises that the torture and death will be accompanied by a very unpleasant affective tone. To take a less extreme case, a man will "scorn delights and live laborious days," with all their boredom and weariness, in order to advance science or provide for his family. The attainment of these comprehensive ends may be accompanied by pleasurable feeling, but it may not. The man may simply do it because he conceives that it is his duty.
(3) But, in general, the objects that we desire bring with them pleasant feelings. I desire a dish of steak and onions: the eating of it is pleasant. I desire to hear Melba: listening to her singing is pleasant. I desire a game of tennis: the exercise is pleasant. In every case the satisfaction of the desire is attended by pleasant feeling. But that does not mean that we desire the object in order to enjoy the feeling. I may desire the steak and onions because I need nourishment; I may desire to hear Melba in order to be able to write a descriptive report of her singing; and I may desire the game of tennis simply for the sake of my health. To think that we desire the object or activity simply for the sake of the pleasure that accompanies it is as absurd as to suppose that, in William James's words, "because no steamer can go to sea without incidentally consuming coal, therefore no steamer can go to sea for any other motive than that of coal-consumption."[3]
§6. Pleasure and the Self. We conclude, then, that pleasure is neither the supreme moral end nor the standard of judgment. But we admit that pleasure occupies an important place in life. As we have seen, all experience is permeated by pleasure and pain as its affective tone; and it is eminently desirable that the affective tone of our experience should be as pleasant as possible. But the point to note is that pleasure is morally valuable precisely in proportion as it is not definitely and directly sought for itself. There is no more futile life than that of the "pleasure-seeker." It is a commonplace, confirmed by the experience of ages, that the life of the pleasure-seeker is often the most unhappy of lives. The very term "pleasure-seeker" is suggestive: it suggests that he never attains. And it is the experience of the pleasure-seeker that when he thinks he has attained the pleasures that he covets, they become Dead-Sea fruit. It is natural and necessary that the pleasure-seeker's life should be futile and feckless. His only aim is to secure a changing variety of pleasurable feeling. Now, nothing is so transient as a feeling. One moment it is felt, the next it is gone for ever. The life of pleasure is a life of isolated pleasurable moments. It is a string of beads without the string. Such a life has nothing to give it unity and coherence. Its only aim is aimlessness; its only purpose confesses a lack of purpose.
Hence the maxim that the only way to get pleasure is to forget it. Pleasant feeling naturally accompanies the healthy exercise of our faculties and the pursuit and attainment of the objects of our desire. The less we think about our pleasures, the more pleasant will our lives become. As Sidgwick has said, "Of our active enjoyments generally … it may certainly be said that we cannot attain them, at least in their highest degree, so long as we concentrate our aim on them. … Similarly, the pleasures of thought and study can only be enjoyed in the highest degree by those who have an ardour of curiosity, which carries the mind temporarily away from self and its sensations. In all kinds of Art, again, the exercise of the creative faculty is attended by intense and exquisite pleasures; but in order to get them, one must forget them."[4]
On the whole, this maxim is true; but we should remember that, while it is never right to seek pleasure solely for itself, there are times when it may be right to seek pleasure. When I go on holiday, for instance, it is not only right, but it may be a duty, to seek pleasure. In such a case it is right for me to seek pleasure, because enjoyment and relaxation will help to make me more fit to take up the duties of my vocation again after my holiday. The "pleasure-seeker," on the other hand, seeks pleasure for itself, and lives for it and for nothing else. It is because he lives for the sake of pleasure that he is wrong in seeking it. All pleasure is relative to the self, and derives its moral value from its relation to the self and its dominant purposes.
For further reading: J. S. Mackenzie: Manual, bk. ii. ch. iv.; J. H. Muirhead: Elements of Ethics, bk. iii. ch. i. and iii.; J. Dewey and J. H. Tufts: Ethics, ch. xiv.; J. Seth: Study of Ethical Principles, part i. ch. i. and iii.; J. Watson: Hedonistic Theories from Aristippus to Spencer; J. S. Mill: Utilitarianism, ch. i.-iv.
- ↑ It is interesting to try to apply the standard in a particular case. Suppose at the beginning of March a man is in doubt whether he ought to take a fortnight's holiday alone in the South of Franco at Easter, or take his family to the Coast for a month in August. He decides to calculate the value of the two courses of action in terms of pleasure according to the Utilitarian method. Call the first course of action X and the second Y. Consider these lines of conduct with reference to the various aspects of pleasure. With regard to (a) the intensity of pleasure, X is preferable; (b) with regard to duration, Y is more desirable; (c) X is more certain (he may be dead by the time August comes, and besides, the weather is much more apt to interfere with the enjoyment of the Coast holiday); (d) in respect to nearness, X is preferable; (e) with regard to fecundity, X is probably preferable (he will have experiences and see things and take photographs on the Mediterranean holiday which will be a constant source of pleasure for months afterwards); (f) with regard to purity, X is probably again preferable (on the Mediterranean holiday he will be free from the petty irritations and domestic annoyances which are apt to spoil a family holiday for him); (g) in extent, Y is preferable. Now, if we sum up, without attempting to give numerical values to the preferences we find that on five of the seven counts X is preferable. Thus, it would seem to follow that X is the right course of action. But there is no doubt at all that in most actual cases X would be wrong. It would not be wrong in all cases. It depends largely on circumstances. If the father were threatened with consumption, a fortnight's escape from the fog and cold and wet of the North might save his life. Under these circumstances he would act rightly in taking the "selfish" holiday. But in normal circumstances he would be wrong. This illustration shows clearly not only how impossible it is to apply this rule to decide concrete cases of rightness and wrongness; but also that it is unsatisfactory to try to apply mechanically any rule to moral actions. The rightness of actions is relative to the self which does them, and is much affected by the circumstances under which they are performed.
- ↑ The criticism in this paragraph, which is really the fundamental one, applies equally to all varieties of Utilitarianism. But the rest of § 4, it will have been noticed, has Bentham in view, rather than Mill.
- ↑ Principles of Psychology, ii. p. 558.
- ↑ Methods of Ethics, bk. i. oh. iv. p. 47.