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An Investigation Of The Forms And Defenses Of Teleological Ethical Theories, With Emphasis On The Ethical Theory Of Brand Blanshard

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An Investigation Of The Forms And Defenses Of Teleological Ethical Theories, With Emphasis On The Ethical Theory Of Brand Blanshard

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Content 71-7733
PEDERSON, LaMoyne Lloyd, 1941-
AN INVESTIGATION OF THE FORMS AND DEFENSES OF
TELEOLOGICAL ETHICAL THEORIES, WITH EMPHASIS
ON THE ETHICAL THEORY OF BRAND BLANSHARD.
University of Southern California, Ph.D., 1970
Philosophy
University Microfilms, Inc., Ann Arbor, Michigan
Copyright by
LAMOYNE LLOYD PEDERSON
1971
THIS DISSERTATION HAS BEEN MICROFILMED EXACTLY AS RECEIVED
AN INVESTIGATION OP THE FORMS AND DEFENSES OF
TELEOLOGICAL ETHICAL THEORIES, WITH EMPHASIS
ON THE ETHICAL THEORY OF BRAND BLANSHARD
by
LaMoyne Lloyd Pederson
A Dissertation Presented to the
FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL
UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
In Partial Fulfillment of the
Requirements for the Degree
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
Philosophy
August 1970
U N IV E R S IT Y O F S O U T H E R N C A L IF O R N IA
T H E G R A D U A T E SC HO O L
U N IV E R S IT Y PARK
LO S A N G E L E S , C A L IF O R N IA 9 0 0 0 7
This dissertation, written by
LaMoyne Lloyd Peder son
under the direction of Dissertation C o m
mittee, and approved by alt its members, has
been presented to and accepted by T h e G r a d u
ate School, in partial fulfillment of require
ments of the deyree of
D O C T O R O F P H I L O S O P H Y
( 7 "i«r
D a t e A .u ? u . s t . . . 1 9 . 7 0 .
TABLE OP CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
Chapter
II
III
IV.
V.
THE TELEOLOGICAL BASIS OP MORAL OBLIGATION
THE ETHICAL EGOIST PROPOSAL ............
THE TELEOLOGICAL BASIS OP MORAL OBLIGATION
THE EGOISTIC HEDONIST PROPOSAL ........
THE TELEOLOGICAL BASIS OP MORAL OBLIGATION
HEDONISTIC AND IDEAL UTILITARIANISM . . .
THE TELEOLOGICAL BASIS OP MORAL OBLIGATION
ACT-UTILITARIANISM ....................
VI. BLANSHARD ON GOODNESS AND THE MORAL OUGHT
9
39
68
90
THE TELEOLOGICAL BASIS OP MORAL OBLIGATION:
RULE-UTILITARIANISM ........................ 118
225
VII. BLANSHARD'S UTILITARIANISM: ACTS, RULES,
AND CONSEQUENCES............................ 328
BIBLIOGRAPHY ...................................... 372
ii
ANALYTICAL TABLE OP CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
1. In ethics, normative and meta-ethical questions lead
into one another, p. 1.
2. But they are different types of questions, p. 2.
3. The careful distinction between normative and meta-
ethical problems is a comparatively recent
phenomenon, p. 2.
4. The two types of problems cannot be completely
divorced, though some philosophers think that
they can, p. 2.
5. It is easy to indiscriminately mix the two levels of
discourse, the product of which is confusion, p. 3.
6. But just as it is a mistake to think that answers to
normative questions decide all meta-ethical ques
tions, or vice versa, so too it is a mistake to
assume that answers on the one level have no
implications on the other, p. 4.
7. We shall try not to confuse the two levels, but we
shall deal with both where the issues overlap, p. 6.
8. Program and thesis stated, p. 7.
CHAPTER I
THE TELEOLOGICAL BASIS OP MORAL OBLIGATION:
THE ETHICAL EGOIST PROPOSAL
1. All teleological theories of obligation base right
ness exclusively on goodness, p. 9»
I
2. Ethical egoism is a teleological theory, p. 10.
3. Against ethical egoism Baier presents a two-pronged
attack, p. 11.
4. (l) Qualified endorsement is given to Baler’s first
objection that ethical egoism does not provide for
solutions when interests clash, but it is at least
arguable that rational self-interest and the
interests of others do not conflict, p. 12.
ill
5. This was Butler's opinion, p. 13.
6. He believed an unreasonable self-love is self-
defeating, p. 14.
7. (2) It is also Important to distinguish between
personal and impersonal egoism, p. 13.
8. Hospers thinks that the personal ethical egoist can
without inconsistency solve conflicts of interest
when his own Interests are involved and that the
personal egoist's theory does not require him to
be able to solve conflicts where his own interests
are not at stake, p. 16.
9. The personal ethical egoist is not necessarily guilty
of inconsistency, but his view implies that he is
never Justified in enunciating an Impartial moral
Judgment, p. 16.
10. The Impersonal egoist can consistently solve conflicts
of interest when his own interests are involved,
P. 17-
11. Baler's second objection is that ethical egoism is
incoherent. There are three ways to argue this
point, p. 17.
12. (l) One may argue that the Impersonal ethical egoist
must give contradictory advice, p. 17.
13. This is a strong argument, p. 18.
14. (2) One may argue— how successfully we are unable to
say— that the Impersonal egoist in order to be
consistent with his theory must believe what is
logically impossible, viz., that each man's good is
the only good, p. 19.
15. (3) One may argue that the egoist must acknowledge
that one and the same act can be at the same time
both wrong and not wrong, p. 20.
16. Hospers' argument to save the impersonal egoist from
this admission misses the point, p. 21.
17. But the Impersonal egoist might be saved from self-
contradiction by two other arguments, p. 23.
II
18. The truth of ethical egoism is sometimes thought to
depend on the truth of psychological egoism, p. 26.
19. According to psychological egoism we always act from
selfish motives, p. 26.
20. It is not possible to prove the falsity of this view,
but several things may be said which tend to dis
credit it, p. 28.
21. (l) Assuming the egoist were able to show that all
actions are susceptible of a selfish interpretation,
he would still not have demonstrated the truth of
psychological egoism, p. 28.
iv
22. (2) The psychological egoist may claim that our
selfish motives are often below the threshold of
consciousness; but this sort of hypothesis Is
(a) unverifiable, and (b) can be used to defend
; any theory of motivation, p. 29.
23. (3) Kai Nielson points out that whatever plausibility
psychological egoism has rests on a confusion,
P. 30.
24. We agree with Nielson and conclude there is no good
reason to think the doctrine of psychological
egoism true, p. 31.
25. It would at first appear that there is no relation
1 of entailment or exclusion between psychological
and ethical egoism, p. 31.
26. But it has been argued that if psychological egoism
be true, ethical egoism is the only normative
doctrine with which it can be combined. To this
it may be replied that (l) there are no grounds for
thinking psychological egoism to be true, and (2)
if the two doctrines are combined, the absurd con
clusion follows that one can never fall to do his
duty, p. 32.
27. There are many variations on ethical egoism, p. 34.
28. But all forms of ethical egoism are subject to the
criticisms leveled against ethical subjectivism,
p. 36.
29. Conclusions summarized, p. 37.
CHAPTER II
i
THE TELEOLOGICAL BASIS OP MORAL OBLIGATION:
THE EGOISTIC HEDONIST PROPOSAL
1. The egoistic hedonist believes the right act is the
one that maximizes one's own pleasure, p. 39.
2. Egoistic hedonism, like other subjectivist theories,
does not permit us to make those moral Judgments
we feel compelled to make, p. 40.
3. Blanshard believes our best moral convictions should
not be taken lightly or too quickly abandoned for
a new theory, p. 41.
4. And that were we to accept a doctrine such as ego
istic hedonism we should have to relinquish many of
our firmest moral beliefs, p. 42.
5. (l) We should have to admit that there is nothing
intrinsically good in another person's happiness
and nothing intrinsically bad in his pain, p. 42.
6. Blanshard thinks this is to remove intrinsic goodness
and badness from its rightful place, p. 43.
7. (2) As egoistic hedonists we should have to acknow- ,
ledge that no response to another person's suffer
ing is more appropriate or fitting than any other, !
P. 44.
8. (3) And that if by increasing another person's i
suffering we can Increase our own pleasure, it is >
our duty to do so, p. 45.
9. The egoistic hedonist may say that we can never j
increase our pleasure through making others suffer, ;
p. 46.
. 10. But this claim is mere evasion, p. 46.
11. And is in any case false, p. 47.
12. (4) From this doctrine it follows that anyone can
erase an obligation by changing his sources of
pleasure, p. 49. i
13. Which means that consistency in belief and practice
is unimportant, p. 50. I
14. This is not the plain man's view, p. 50.
15* (5) It is implied in this doctrine that no ethical
statement has universal validity, p. 51.
16. And that acts that are exactly similar with respect
to motive and results are different in morally
relevant respects if they are performed by
different persons, p. 52.
17. (6) One who accepts this doctrine must be prepared
to admit that his stealing from someone else may
be right while an exactly similar theft by someone
else may be wrong, p. 54.
18. Whereas we normally believe that if the circumstances
surrounding two thefts are the same, the one cannot
be right and the other wrong, p. 54.
19. What the egoistic hedonist does in effect is to Jet
tison impartiality as an ethical ideal, p. 55.
20. (7) Neither can the egoistic hedonist make value
judgments about events which he is confident will
occur after his death, p. 56.
21. (8) This theory makes ethical agreement and disagree
ment, as they are ordinarily understood, Impossible,
P. 57.
22. (9) It reduces all ethical statements to statements
of psychological fact, p. 59.
23. (10) And would afford Justification for the perfect
crime, p. 60.
24. (ll) The egoistic hedonist may also commit the
naturalistic fallacy, p. 6l.
! 25. A more credible form of ethical egoism suggested,
: p. 62.
1 26. Conclusions summarized, p. 66.
vi
CHAPTER III
THE TELEOLOGICAL BASIS OP MORAL OBLIGATION:
HEDONISTIC AND IDEAL UTILITARIANISM
1. Our reasons for rejecting egoism repeated, p. 68.
I
I
2. Utilitarianism is a more satisfactory teleological
theory of obligation, p. 68.
3. And may be combined with either of two theories of
! value, p. 70.
4. Hedonistic utilitarianism assigns intrinsic value to
pleasure alone, p. 71.
3. Ross's arguments against hedonism as a theory of
value seem decisive, p. 71.
6. Moore's objections to hedonism parallel Ross's, p. 72.
7. (l) (2) Hedonistic utilitarianism Justifies highly
questionable practices, p. 73.
8. (3) And fails to Justify acts thought to be right,
, P. 74.
9. (4) Neither can it be reconciled with our conviction
that in some cases an increase In intrinsic good
ness is accompanied by a decrease in happiness,
P. 75.
10. Ideal utilitarians such as Blanshard believe many
things possess Intrinsic goodness, p. 77.
II
11. What the deontologists find objectionable in hedon
istic and ideal utilitarianism is that both
theories base rightness on goodness, p. 79.
12. Which Prichard says is to base moral philosophy on a
mistake, p. 79*
13. Ross argues that what is right or obligatory is not
always what produces the most good, p. 80.
14. Which is also the plain man's view, p. 81.
15. Ross thinks that to produce good Is only one of
several prlma facie duties, p. 81.
16. And that when prima facie duties conflict our actual
duty is to fulfil the more stringent, p. 82.
; 17. This means that prlma facie duties are not absolute,
P. 83.
18. Which 13 an improvement on Kant, who believed duties
have no exceptions, p. 83.
1 19. But Ross is unable to tell us how to weigh competing
obligations, p. 84.
vii
I i
! 20. Rosa admits this is both difficult and risky, and
I that our only guide is rational intuition, p. 84.
21. The deontologist's case against the utilitarian !
theory of obligation is a strong one, p. 85.
22. (l) For it would appear that utilitarianism Justifies
paying a debt only if a better use for the money !
cannot be found, p. 85. !
23. (2) That it cannot account for the highly personal
character of duty, p. 86.
24. (3) And that it Justifies punishing the innocent,
P. 87.
25. Conclusions summarized, p. 89.
CHAPTER IV
THE TELEOLOGICAL BASIS OF MORAL OBLIGATION: j
|
ACT-UTILITARIANISM
1. It is essential for the utilitarians to successfully
meet the criticisms of the deontologists, p. 90.
I
2. The act-utilitarians try to do this by citing
important consequences which the deontologists
overlook in making their case against utilitarian
ism, p. 90.
3. (l) The person who does not pay a debt in order to do
something more useful with his money risks damaging
his reputation, p. 91*
4. He may weaken public confidence in a highly useful
institution and cause his family great embarrass
ment, p. 91.
5. Assuming he is never found out, there are still the
bad consequences which attend: worry, anxiety,
playing the part of a hypocrite and the weakening
of a good habit, p. 92.
6. (2) The person who fails to show gratitude in order
to produce a greater good can expect to lose the
respect of others, to be later served in kind, and
to undermine a practice which has utilitarian
justification, p. 92.
7. (3) Similarly, the Judge who sentences a man he knows
to be innocent for the public good can expect to
suffer from a guilty conscience, to lose self
esteem, to reduce his overall effectiveness as a
Judge, and, if found out, to undermine public trust
in the Judicial process, p. 93.
viii
8. This act-utilitarian defense cannot be penetrated so
long as he Is permitted to square his theory with
our moral convictions by adding consequences ad hoc;
but this avenue of escape can be closed in two ways,
p. 94.
9. (1) One way is to imagine a situation where the
consequences of, say, breaking a promise, are Just
as good as, or slightly better than, the conse
quences of keeping it, p. 94.
10. It is no use for the utilitarian to object to this
procedure on the grounds that no such situation
does exist or could exist, for to make this objec
tion is (a) to claim unreasonable powers of
prophecy, and (b) to offer an objection which is in
any case irrelevant, p. 95*
11. Neither can the utilitarian say that it is impossible
to conceive of such a situation, because there is
nothing self-contradictory in the conditions we
have proposed, p. 96.
12. (2) The second way to keep the act-utilitarian from
bringing in consequences to save his theory is to
frame examples in such a way that his every attempt
to do so is frustrated; we offer three examples to
illustrate this approach, p. 96.
13. (a) The first example is designed to show that a full
calculation of consequences makes it obligatory for
the act-utilitarian to desert his wife and family
under conditions where we think that would be
wrong, p. 97.
14. (b) The second example shows that the act-utilitarian
must think it right to break promises under condi
tions where we think we ought to keep them, p. 101.
15. (c) In the third example we try to show that the
consistent act-utilitarian is required to save his
own life in circumstances where it might be wrong
to do so, p. 106.
II
16. When confronted with the discrepancy between the
implications of his theory and our ordinary moral
beliefs, the act-utilitarian may, instead of giving
up his theory, Insist that it is our beliefs that
are mistaken and in need of revision, p. 107.
17. We agree that it is too much to ask of a theory that
it never conflict with the plain man's moral Judg
ments, but there is something seriously wrong with
a theory which is at odds with these Judgments as
often as act-utilitarianism is, p. 107.
ix
L_
: 18. Act-utilitarianism implies that it is right to punish i
innocent people and lunatics if it is useful to do
so, p. 108. !
19. Although the act-utilitarian may claim that punishing
the insane has never been found useful, it is |
logically possible that it might become so, in
which case he must sanction it, p. 109.
20. The utilitarian believes that pointless punishment,
even if deserved, cannot be Justified, and that 1
useless suffering is not made better by being
deserved or made worse by being undeserved, p. 110.
21. Sprlgge's attempt to explain why the useless punish
ment of an innocent man is worse than that of a
guilty man is a failure, p. 111. j
22. Punishment to be fully Justified must be deserved,
appropriate to the crime, and not excessive; use- j
fulness is a relevant but less important considers- j
tion, p. 112.
23. Act-utilitarianism also seems unable to Justify a
fair distribution of goods, p. 113.
24. Rule-utilitarianism, which Justifies acts by rules
and only rules by their utility, may be more
acceptable as a theory of obligation, p. 114.
25. Conclusions summarized, p. 115.
CHAPTER V
: 1
THE TELEOLOGICAL BASIS OP MORAL OBLIGATION:
RULE-UTILITARIANISM
1. Conclusions repeated, p. 118.
I
2. Rule and act-utilitarianism can be distinguished with
the aid of an example, p. 119.
3. Rule-utilitarianism Justifies acts by rules and only
rules by consequences, p. 125.
4. Which enables it to avoid one serious criticism of
act-utilitarianism, p. 125.
5. Rule-utilitarianism allows a direct appeal to conse
quences in two cases only: (l) when an act falls
under no rule, and (2) when an act falls under two
equally useful rules, p. 126.
I 6. (l) Rule-utilitarianism is said to be superior to act-
utilitarianism for the following reasons: Firstly,
it comes closer to the way we actually decide the
rightness and wrongness of acts, p. 128.
I
!
; 7*
8.
9.
I
10.
I il
ia.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
(2) Secondly, act-utilitarianism has implications i
which are incompatible with our moral convictions, j
while rule-utilitarianism does not, p. 129.
(3) Thirdly, unlike act-utilitarianism, rule-
utilitarianism is not self-defeating, p. 129.
(4) Fourthly, rule-utilitarianism meets the require
ment of universalizability, while act-utilitarianism|
does not, p. 130. i
I
II
But rule-utilitarianism encounters the following
objections, p. 131.
(1) The first is that rule-utilitarianism requires j
as many miles as particular acts and consequently
requires the same moral decisions as act- j
utilitarianism, p. 132. I
This objection rests on the fallacious assumption !
that the more exceptions which are built into a
moral rule the more optimific it becomes, p. 133.
It wrongly assumes that every act differs from all
other acts in morally relevant respects, p. 134.
That rule and act-utilitarianism require the same
moral decisions might, however, be established on
other grounds, p. 135.
(2) The second objection to rule-utilitarianism is
that it makes some acts wrong which we normally
think to be right, p. 135*
But this objection rests on the false presupposition
that classes of acts cannot be made relevantly more
specific, p. 136.
(3) The third criticism is that rule-utilitarianism
is irrational, p. 137.
If the rule-utilitarian tries to escape this
criticism by building exceptions into his rules in
order to make them more optimific, he finds that
his rules sanction the same questionable acts as
act-utilitarianism does, p. 139.
(4) The fourth objection is that mile-utilitarianism
Is self-defeating, p. l4l.
If the rule-utilitarian tries to still this criticism
by modifying his rules, he again ends with very
questionable rules, p. 141.
(5) The fifth objection is that rule-utilitarianism
makes some acts right which we normally think are
wrong, p. 142.
xi
Ill
22. Objections (3)* (4), and (5) can be dismissed only If
moral rules can be construed as defining a prac
tice , p. 144.
23. Rawls distinguishes between the summary and practice
conceptions of moral rules, p. 144.
24. If moral rules are merely useful rules of thumb, the
last three objections raised are insurmountable,
p. 145.
25. But if moral rules define the conditions for the
maintenance of, and participation in, a practice,
they do not permit the sorts of exceptions which
give the rule-utilitarian difficulty, p. 146.
26. For to make an exception to a rule which defines a
practice which has utilitarian Justification is to
follow a different rule and to engage in a dif
ferent practice, p. 148.
27. With respect to the question whether the practice
conception of rules, so evident in games, can help
the utilitarian out of his difficulties, it cannot,
p. 150.
28. Because the analogy between moral rules and rules
which define a game breaks down, p. 150.
29. To take more than three strikes is not to play base
ball, but to make promises while intending to break
them is still to promise, p. 152.
30. This raises the issue of what it is to make a
promise, p. 153.
31. (l) To make a promise is not merely to utter words,
o. 153.
32. (2) Neither is it simply a matter of giving another
person reason to expect that I will do something
to or for him, p. 154.
33. (3) To really make a promise I must give a person
good reason to expect that he can count on me to do
something agreeable to him, p. 155.
34. (4) And I must consciously intend to lead him to
believe he can count on me to carry through, p. 157.
35. If these are the defining rules of promising, two
important conclusions follow, p. 159.
36. (l) That I can successfully make promises without
intending to keep them, p. 162.
37. (2) That I can engage in the activity of promising
even though it is suspected that I shall break my
promise, p. 162.
38. From which we must conclude that the rules which
define promising are not what Rawl3 takes them
to be, p. 162.
xii
39* And that the practice conception of rules does not
help the utilitarian out of his difficulties with
respect to promising, p. 164.
40. Consequently the rule-utilitarian leaves himself open
to previously mentioned objections (3), (4), and
(5), p. 164.
41. With respect to the practice of punishment one may
similarly ask whether it is governed by defining
rules the modification of which constitutes
abandonment of the practice, p. 165.
42. (l) One may hold as Rawls does that to knowingly
punish an innocent person for the general good is
not to punish at all, but to telish, p. 166.
43. (2) Or one may claim that an innocent man who is
punished for the good of society is still punished,
p. 167.
44. We are inclined to think the latter view the more
defensible, p. 168.
45. And conclude that the practice conception of rules is
of little, if any, help to the rule-utilitarian,
p. 168.
IV
46. But even if it were granted that promising and
punishing are practices which are abandoned if we
reserve the right to break promises and punish
unfairly when more good can be produced by doing
so, we still could not say that these practices
have the greatest utility, p. 169.
47. The rule-utilitarian cannot rely on the generaliza
tion test to weed out those rules or practices that
are unacceptable, p. 172.
48. For the generalization test fails to take into
account those features of acts that affect their
utility, p. 173.
49. All those properties that affect the utility of an
act are relevant to the description of the act and
to the placing of the act in its proper class,
p. 176.
50. Among the circumstances or features of an act which
enter into its description and classification are
the effect (if any) the act will have on the
behavior of others and what others will do if what
they will do affects the utility of the act, p. 177.
51. When acts are completely described, their generalized
utility and their simple utility do not diverge,
P. 179.
32. Which means that rule-utilitarianism Justifies the
same questionable acts as act-utilitarianism and is
therefore no improvement on it, p. 180.
xiii
I 53* Arguments to the contrary examined and rejected, i
! P. 181.
V
54. The rule-utilitarian, unlike the act-utilitarian,
can avoid the absurd conclusion that we are doing j
wrong whenever we relax, but only if he holds that j
there are no duties where no specific moral rules
apply, p. 193.
i 55. (1) But the pure rule-utilitarian who takes this
position needs, but does not provide, a criterion
by means of which it may be determined which of
I those rules that would have utilitarian Justifica- :
tion are genuine secondary moral rules, p. 194. ;
1 56. (2) And he finds himself unable to handle situations 1
where an act falls under two specific rules, one I
enjoining the act and the other forbidding it, !
p. 196.
57. The mixed rule-utilitarian thinks that the utility
principle functions both as a specific moral rule
and as the primary rule which Justifies all other
specific moral rules, and is consequently able to
escape objections (1) and (2), p. 196.
58. But the mixed version encounters the following
difficulties, p. 197.
59* (l) It makes relaxation morally wrong because the
rule "Always do what produces the most good"
| applies even though no other rule does, p. 197*
60. (2) It doesn't account for all commonly recognized
i duties, p. 198.
61. The male-utilitarian also has difficulty in saying
what set of moral rules ought to be taken as the
criteria of rightness, p. 198.
62. Since the plain man has neither the opportunity to
become familiar with the moral rules of different
societies nor the ability to evaluate these rules
in terms of their usefulness, the mile-utilitarian
may claim that one ought to accept as the criteria
of rightness only those rules recognized in his
society, p. 199.
63. But this implies that any morally reprehensible
activity is Justified if one's society sanctions
it, p. 200.
64. The rule-utilitarian can avoid this implication if
he holds that a person should follow only the best
moral rules, p. 201.
65. (l) But if he takes this position he largely forsakes
his theory, p. 201.
66. (2) He risks having no agreed upon set of rules,
p. 202.
67. (3) He Is quite possibly urging the adoption of an
unknown Ideal, p. 202.
68. (4) The best rules may contain so many built-In
exceptions as to be neither learnable nor statable,
p. 203.
69* (5) Moreover, the claim that one ought to follow only
the best rules Is ambiguous. If It means that one
ought to follow the rules that have the best con
sequences under the conditions that prevail, act-
utilitarianism and rule-utilitarianism have the
same practical implications. If it means that one
ought to follow those rules that have the best
consequences under Ideal conditions, acts that
have tragic results under actual conditions may
be obligatory, p. 205.
70. (6) An Ideal set of rules may have appalling conse
quences when followed in a society where people
sometimes do the wrong thing, and with respect to
many moral decisions an ideal set of rules provides
no guidance at all, p. 209.
71. (7) Ideal rule-utilitarianism provides no basis for
deciding between competing sets of moral rules,
p. 211.
72. As a compromise the rule-utilitarian might accept
Brandt's formulation of the principle according to
which we are not required to follow exclusively
either the best rules or the established rules,
p. 213.
73. But Brandt's formulation sets up as the criteria of
rightness rules that are apt to be far from optimi
fic and it unduly restricts both the range of our
duties and the complexity of our moral rules,
p. 213.
74. Assuming we were able to arrive at a satisfactory
formulation of rule-utilitarianism, it would still
face insurmountable difficulties, p. 214.
75. (l) Rule-utilitarianism would fail to justify a dis
tribution of goods based on merit, p. 215.
76. (2) Neither would it give a satisfactory account of
the principle of Justice, p. 215.
77. (3) Nor would it give an adequate account of
supererogatory acts, p. 220.
78. Conclusions summarized, p. 221.
xv
CHAPTER VI
BLANSHARD ON GOODNESS AND THE MORAL OUGHT
1. An acceptable ethical theory must be Internally
consistent and compatible with our most firmly
Intrenched moral beliefs, p. 225.
2. None of the theories we have discussed meet both
these requirements, p. 225.
3. Blanshard defends a teleological account of right
and duty, p. 226.
4. But he thinks the goodness on which right and duty
depend must be studied In the context of human
desires, needs, drives, and potentialities, p. 227.
5. Blanshard's theory of goodness Is based on a teleo- j
logical conception of human nature, according to j
which man has built-in ends, p. 228. i
6. Man consists of a bundle of Impulses, among them the
cognitive, the aesthetic, and the creative, p. 230.
7. Intrinsically good experiences are those which
satisfy these natural impulses, p. 230.
8. Intrinsically bad experiences are those which frus
trate these impulses, p. 231.
9. (l) For an experience to be intrinsically good it
must both fulfil and satisfy, p. 232.
10. The psychological hedonist is mistaken in thinking we
desire only satisfaction, while the ethical hedonist
wrongly assumes satisfaction is the sole determinant
of intrinsic value, p. 233.
11. Blanshard is able to say two experiences may be
equally pleasant or satisfying but of unequal
intrinsic value, p. 233.
12. (2) Since goodness is a product of both fulfilment
and satisfaction, the value of an experience can
be increased by making it more fulfilling or more
satisfying, p. 236.
13. The good is what would fulfil and satisfy wholly, but
our experiences can only approximate this ideal,
p . 236.
14. (3; Fulfilment and satisfaction are not only good-
making characteristics, they are the meaning of
"good," p. 238.
15. Here Blanshard parts company with the nonnaturalists,
P. 239.
16. (4; Goodness is related to that which has it as a
! genus is related to its species, p. 24l.
17. (a) This relation is not one of mere empirical
togetherness, p. 241.
;l8. (b) Nor is it one of synthetic entailment, p. 242.
xvi
I ___________________________________________________________ __
19.
20.
21.
22.
23.
24.
23.
26.
27.
28.
29.
30.
31.
32.
33.
34.
35.
36.
(c) Intrinsically good things are species of
goodness, p. 243.
But goodness doesn't exist apart from its specific
forms, p. 243.
Blanshard's analysis of this relation can be criti
cized on the grounds that it makes all fulfilling
and satisfying experiences intrinsically good,
p. 244.
Such as genuine happiness in the misfortune of
others, p. 244.
Which suggests that fulfilment and satisfaction do
not supply the full meaning of "good," p. 246.
Blanshard would find it helpful to distinguish among
fulfilling and satisfying experiences those that
are desirable for their own sake and those which
are not; but he does not make this distinction,
p. 246.
Probably because to make the distinction would
require extensive changes in his ethical theory,
p. 249.
(5) Goodness is objective because nature has ordained
what we shall find fulfilling and satisfying,
P. 249.
Some experiences and some lives can be said to be
truly better than others because they are instances
of greater self-realization, p. 250.
(6) Moral obligation is the claim upon us of ends set
by our nature, the realization of which constitutes
the measure and meaning of goodness, p. 251.
Which means right, duty, and the ethical ought are
grounded in goodness, p. 253.
Our duty is to produce, for ourselves and for others,
as much fulfilment and satisfaction as we are able,
, P. 255.
(7) Human nature prevents us from desiring and
pursuing what we believe is not fulfilling and
satisfying, p. 256.
Self-destructive impulses do not have ends of their
own; they are nature's way of safeguarding our more
constructive drives, p. 256.
We are determined to desire and to choose what we
believe to be good, p. 256.
Blanshard takes this as a psychological truth; but
the doctrine seems to be false, p. 257.
(8) Human goods are natural and, because reason
enters Into their determination, rational as well,
p. 258.
Reason turns impulse into desire by supplying impulse
with conscious ends, p. 259.
xvii
37• No line can be drawn between desire and the intelli
gence that molds it, p. 260.
I 38. But reason does more than fashion the objects of
i desire; it also invents means to their realization,
makes evident which of our desires are mutually j
supportive and which not, and insures that the
specific goods we seek undergo continuous revision, j
p. 261. I
39- All of which means the ends of life are largely
i fixed by reason, p. 262.
40. Our impulses and drives are themselves alterable by
intelligence, p. 263.
41. Since human values are rational in character, value
Judgments are defensible by reason, p. 264.
42. What Blanshard does is to shift that upon which the
objectivity of particular goods rests from human
nature with its set drives and demands to a
reorganizing intelligence, and this provides for
an element of ambiguity, p. 265.
! 43. Blanshard attributes many functions to reason, p. 266.
j 44. His conception of reason is teleological; in all of
, its activities reason pulls toward system and
structure, p. 268.
I 45. In every system necessities are present, p. 271.
j 46. But systems exhibit different types and degrees of
necessity, p. 272.
47. (9) Although we always desire what fulfils and satis
fies, we cannot flatly equate the desired with the
desirable, p. 273.
48. Because our present desires reflect our limited
experience, our desires are in process of continu
ous revision, any particular good we desire always
falls short of what is ideally good, and we do not
I know what would fulfil and satisfy our desires
j were they fully informed, p. 274.
! 49. For these reasons the truly desirable will always
lie beyond what we explicitly desire, p. 276.
50. Blanshard's naturalism is an ideal naturalism,
strongly colored by his teleological account of
| human nature, p. 276.
I 51. (10) Blanshard believes there is a necessary connec-
j tion between the descriptive and the evaluative,
; and that reason can proceed from facts to values,
P. 277.
52. Because goodness turns on factual considerations,
ethical disputes are susceptible of solution,
p. 278.
53. But they cannot be settled by mere observation and
inductive reasoning, p. 279*
xviii
1
54.
i 55.
56.
I
57.
58.
1 59.
|
j 6o.
i
I
| 61.
!
62.
63.
64.
65.
j
| 66.
| 67.
68.
Past experience 3hows what has been found fulfilling
and satisfying and should be used as a guide, but
what is Ideally good is not now verifiable and
never will be, p. 280. I
Blanshard never makes clear how the fulfilling •
aspects of experiences are to be discerned and ;
compared, p. 281.
Although Blanshard adopts the model of factual state
ments in his analysis of value Judgments, he does
not want to say the logic of value Judgments is i
that of mathematical or simple empirical Judgments, !
p. 282. !
He contends that goodness is something objective,
natural, and non-senslble, and that value Judgments
are objective and verifiable, p. 283.
Unlike the positivists Blanshard does not restrict
the natural and the factually meaningful to what
is verifiable in sense perception, p. 285.
But on his view, the verification of value Judgments
and the settling of value disputes does seem to
involve circular reasoning, p. 286.
Blanshard does not give a precise statement on how
value Judgments are to be construed; nor does he
say whether, when introspecting one's experience to
find evidence of fulfilment, it is possible to make
a mistake in Judgment, p. 288.
(ll) For Blanshard "goodness" and "fulfilment/satis-
factlon" have the same meaning, p. 289.
This opens him to the charge of committing the
naturalistic fallacy, p. 290.
Blanshard is prepared to say that it doesn't make
sense to ask of a fulfilling and satisfying
experience whether it is good. p. 291.
(a) Blanshard does not believe good" is indefinable,
p. 292.
(b; Nor does he believe his definition of "good"
reduces the ethical to the nonethlcal, for the
concepts "fulfilment" and "satisfaction" are partly
descriptive and partly evaluative, p. 292.
(c) It may be charged that in his definition he con
fuses two quite different things, p. 294.
Blanshard would agree that different things should
never be confused or identified, but at the same
time would insist that goodness and fulfilment/
satisfaction are not two things, p. 295.
(d) If it is said that having found "good" and "ful
filment/satisfaction" to have the same denotation
Blanshard has mistakenly inferred that they also
have the same connotation, Blanshard could reply
xix
that the connotations are Identical and that It Is
our recognition of this which leads us to apply the
term "good" to all that fulfils and satisfies and
only to that which fulfils and satisfies, p. 296.
69. (e) Hare argues that by defining value words descrip
tively the naturalist does not provide for the
commending or action-guiding function of the word
"good," p. 297.
70. And that the naturalist thereby prevents us from
using the word the way we constantly and meaning
fully use it, p. 298.
71. We agree that one's definition of "good" must not
interfere with its commending function, p. 300.
72. But Blanshard's definition does enable us to use the
word "good" to guide choices and influence
behavior, p. 300.
73. Hare would probably concede that on Blanshard'3
definition the word "good" does carry commendatory
force, but he would surely question whether Blan
shard 's definition is really naturalistic, p. 301.
74. By Hare's criteria, Blanshard's definition of "good"
is not naturalistic, p. 302.
75. (f) It may be argued that there is an Impassable gulf
between the descriptive and the evaluative, that no
evaluative conclusion ever follows logically from
purely descriptive premises, p. 303.
76. Blanshard agrees that it is impossible to move from
purely descriptive statements to statements of
value, but he also thinks that descriptions of
experience entail value Judgments, p. 304.
77. There is no inconsistency here; Blanshard is able to
pass from facts about experiences to statements of
value because descriptions of experience already
have evaluative content, p. 304.
78. In experience the descriptive and the evaluative are
so intertwined that no satisfactory description of
experience is possible without introducing an evalu
ative element, that is without employing concepts
that are partly evaluative, p. 305.
79. (12) Given the teleological character of experience,
psychology cannot restrict itself to purely descrip
tive concepts; psychology must be in part a norma
tive science, p. 306.
80. Since experience is purposive and governed by ends
which direct the processes leading to their realiza
tion, an explanation of experience in terms of
mechanical principles is doomed to failure, p. 308.
81. A truly empirical psychology cannot ignore the
teleological dimension, p. 309*
xx
82. (13) For Blanshard value statements can be translated
I into statements about experiences that fulfil and
I satisfy, and these can be reduced to psychological
statements about ends, p. 311.
83. But these psychological statements contain a normative
element, p. 312.
84. So whether ethics can be characterized as an adjunct
j of psychology depends on whether one is talking
about a purely descriptive psychology or a psycho-
j logy that is partly normative, p. 312.
85. (l4) Three criticisms of Blanshard's views can be
given, p. 313.
! 86. (a; The first concerns his theory of desire according
] to which men necessarily desire what they believe
1 to be good, the strength of their desire in direct
1 proportion to the goodness recognized, p. 313.
j 87. This claim does not seem to comport with experience,
nor can it be easily reconciled with self
destructive tendencies, p. 313.
88. This claim when coupled with the belief that reason-
| able men believe other people's experiences are as
j intrinsically good as their own if they are equally
fulfilling and satisfying leads to the conclusion
j that a reasonable person desires the happiness of
strangers as much as he desires his own, p. 314.
j 89. This conclusion is surely false, p. 315.
| 90. (b) The second criticism is that Blanshard's analysis
makes all fulfilling and satisfying experiences
j intrinsically good, p. 316.
; 91. Blanshard could distinguish between fulfilling and
satisfying experiences that are intrinsically good
and those that are not, or between moral and non-
moral goods, p. 316.
| 92. But this would be to give up fulfilment and satisfac-
j tion as the sole measure and meaning of Intrinsic
value, p. 319.
93. (c) The third criticism is that Judgments of right
and duty cannot be derived from Judgments of good
if good is defined in terms of fulfilment and
! satisfaction, p. 323.
i 94. That the right act is not necessarily the act which
I brings into existence the greatest amount of
i fulfilment and satisfaction is argued with the
aid of an example, p. 324.
95. Conclusions summarized, p. 325.
xxi
CHAPTER VII
BLANSHARD'S UTILITARIANISM:
ACTS, RULES, AND CONSEQUENCES
i 1 . Blanshard's utilitarianism is more defensible than
| other species of utilitarianism and for this reason
j deserves serious consideration, p. 328.
| . I
2. The deontologists say it is priraa facie wrong for a
Judge to hang an innocent man for the public good,
p. 330.
3. Blanshard agrees, but insists that the wrongness of
such an act is a function of its disutility or
badness; this raises the question of where the
badness lies; it does not lie in the Judge's motive
if he hangs the man out of a sincere regard for
| duty, p. 331.
j 4. The badness of the Judge's act may he traced to its
! consequences, immediate or remote, p. 332.
5. But it is conceivable that the consequences are the
! best achievable; if so, we shall have to look else
where for the badness that makes the act wrong,
p. 333.
6. Blanshard suggests that in these cases the badness
may lie in a disruption which is a matter of logic,
p. 334.
7. What sort of disruption this is Blanshard does not
i make clear, but there seem to be at least three
j possibilities: (l) the probability that the act
| will weaken moral resolve, p. 335.
I 8. (2) The undermining of the relations of honor and
! Justice and truthfulness, all of which possess
! intrinsic value, p. 336.
9. (3) The betrayal of the Judicial system and the way
of life it Implies, p. 338.
! 10. Should all these lines of retreat be closed, Blan-
! shard would say the rightness or wrongness of acts
| may turn on their intrinsic value, p. 340.
j 11. Though Blanshard agrees with the deontologists that
the rightness of an act may depend on the character
of the act rather than its results, he is convinced
that rightness is still a function of goodness,
p. 342.
I 12. The utilitarian who asserts that acts may be right
because of their intrinsic value is difficult to
refute, p. 346.
xxii
II
13. If states of mind, relations between experiences,
and individual acts are all said to be intrinsi- j
cally good, the utilitarian becomes quite impervi- j
! ous to deontological criticism, p. 347. '
14. (l) But Blanshard cannot hold that it is always right j
to distribute goods equitably and at the same time
claim that all right acts produce the maximum net
fulfilment and satisfaction, p. 348.
15. If Blanshard is to make fairness of distribution
intrinsically good he must change his theory of
intrinsic value, p. 349.
16. Assuming his theory of value is modified to include
more than what fulfils and satisfies in the class
of intrinsically good things, we should want to
know how heavily is to be weighted the good of
equitable distribution and how we are to measure
| the good of equitable distribution and the good
I of fulfilment/satisfaction against each other,
I P. 351.
17. Even if these difficulties prove surmountable,
Blanshard's utilitarianism still requires one
choice which is repugnant, p. 352.
18. (2) Though Blanshard says acts may be intrinsically
good, he provides no criteria by means of which to
determine which acts are intrinsically good and
which acts are not, p. 352.
19. (3) Blanshard criticizes Ross on several counts,
, 353‘
20. (a) Blanshard1s theory, with its one absolute duty is
simpler than Ross's, but owing to the large number
of intrinsic goods that have to be considered in
assessing the net utility of acts, it is no easier
than Ross's to apply in practice, p. 354.
21. (b) Although Blanshard thinks he gets along with
fewer intuitions than Ross, it is doubtful that he
i does, p. 356.
22. (c) Blanshard criticizes Ross for having no principle
by means of which to adjudicate the claims of
competing obligations, but Blanshard's own principle
is impotent in the case of some moral dilemmas,
I / 35°*
! 23. (d) Blanshard complains that on Ross's view there is
no common nature in what is right, but the implica
tions of his own view are such that there is no
common nature in what is intrinsically good, p. 359*
24. (4) Even if it is granted that those acts which bring
j into existence the most net good ought always to be
xxiii
done, this does not imply that the reason such acts
ought to be done is the good they originate, p. 359*
25. It is in any case doubtful that the class of optimific
acts and the class of right or obligatory acts
coincide, p. 362.
26. (5) The duty to treat persons as ends and never as a
means only is independent of our duty to produce
good and may at times override it; the chief failing
of all varieties of egoism and utilitarianism and
the source of their major problems is their unwill
ingness to recognize this, p. 264.
27. To use persons as a mere means to promote one’s own
or the general good is always prima facie wrong,
p. 366.
28. Conclusions summarized, p. 369*
xxiv
1
INTRODUCTION
1. Among the problems which have interested moral
philosophers, two of the more important are the role good- I
ness plays in Justifying acts, and the meaning of "good."
These two problems may lead into one another. If, with
the utilitarians, one believes that an act is right only
I inasmuch as it produces, or tends to produce, consequences
j
which are intrinsically good, the question naturally
arises, What things or consequences are intrinsically
good? This in turn provokes the question, What is the
meaning of the concept "good"? or, How shall "good" be
defined? Or to take it the other way round, if one
defines "good" as a natural or a nonnatural property, one
has specified a property which every intrinsically good
thing must possess. And if, as a utilitarian, one
believes that the rightness of an act follows from the
i
i intrinsic goodness of its results, one's definition of
j "good" may determine which acts are to be Judged
! morally Justified.
2. But, though these questions do seem related
in the sense that one leads to the other, and perhaps
even in that an answer to one has its effects on the
answer to the other, it is important to realize that
they are questions of different types. The question of
moral Justification has to do with standards, that is,
with the criteria of goodness and rightness in acts. The
question of meaning pertains to the logical character of
moral concepts. The first question belongs to normative
i ethics; the second to meta-ethics, or, as it is sometimes
! called, critical or analytical ethics.
!
3. In the writings of contemporary moral philoso
phers, much is made of the distinction between "meta
ethics" and "normative ethics." But, while it is only in
recent literature that this division of ethics has been
brought into clear relief, problems germane to each branch
have been the concern of traditional moralists. Prom
Plato onward the problems of normative ethics and meta-
ethics have been eagerly canvassed without carefully
distinguishing between them. Failure to separate them,
many modem moralists contend, has been the source of
much confusion and error in traditional moral philosophy.
4. Blanshard believes that normative and meta-
ethical questions not only should not, but cannot, be
completely separated.'1 ' A position adopted on the logical
status or meaning of moral concepts and Judgments may well
! rule out at least some options on the normative level, and
vice versa. This is, of course, a controversial point.
•'"Brand Blanshard, Reason and Goodness (London:
1 George Allen & Unwin Ltd, 1961), pp. 263-65.
1 ____________
Taking the opposite view is Philippa Foot, who, if I
i understand her correctly, believes normative and meta-
ethical questions can be pursued independently, that
conclusions reached with respect to the one have no
bearing on how one decides the other. A utilitarian, act
or rule, may without fear of inconsistency opt for, among
others, the meta-ethical claim of the emotivists, Just as
any emotivist is free to become a utilitarian:
A decision for, or against, utilitarianism [as an
adequate criterion of right and wrongj does not
| commit one to any particular position with regard to
j intuitionist, emotivist or naturalistic theories of
I ethics, and similarly intuitionists, emotivists and
j naturalists are equally free to accept or reject the
! principle of utility.2
5. Now if one undertakes a comparison of such
theories as naturalism, nonnaturalism, emotivism, intui-
tionism, and utilitarianism, it is all too easy to
confuse levels of discourse and, as a consequence, perhaps
to suppose each theory is incompatible with the rest.
That this would be a mistake is clear. To consider one
Philippa Foot, ed., Theories of Ethics (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1967)* p. 15. Michael D. Bayles
expresses a similar view. Convinced that the two central
Issues of meta-ethics are the meaning of moral predicates
and the Justification of normative theories, Bayles goes
on to say this: "Various answers have been suggested to
the former question, but all of them are compatible with
utilitarianism. Whether in making ethical Judgments one
either asserts that actions, people or objects possess
natural or non-natural properties, or prescribes behavior,
or issues imperatives or expresses emotions is irrelevant
to utilitarianism." See Bayles, ed., Contemporary
Utilitarianism, Anchor Books (Garden City, N. Y.:
Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1968), p. 2.
I or two examples, one may, on the level of meta-ethlcs,
I take the position that the term "good" can be defined
naturalistlcally, and, on the normative level, the
utilitarian position that right acts are those which
produce the most good. Or again, the belief of the non
naturalist that the ethical term "good" names a simple,
unanalyzable, nonnatural property may be accompanied by
acceptance of the utility principle as the only test of
rightness and wrongness in acts. Thus, a commitment to
| utilitarianism as a normative doctrine does not by Itself
decide the question whether and in what sense good is
definable. Put another way, either meta-ethical claim,
that good is to be defined naturalistlcally or that it
is to be defined nonnaturalistically, is logically com
patible with the normative doctrines of act-utilitarianism,
rule-utilitarianism, hedonistic utilitarianism, and ideal
utilitarianism.3
i
! 6. it would be a mistake, then, to assume that
i
|
j decisions on normative questions also decide every meta-
I ethical question, or vice versa. But it would be Just
I
1
as much a mistake to suppose that specific answers to
meta-ethical questions never eliminate normative options,
3i am not, of course, suggesting that these four
kinds of utilitarianism are mutually exclusive. A rule-
utilitarian, for example, may believe only one thing is
intrinsically good or he may believe several things are
intrinsically good. The same is true of the act-
utilitarian.
and that any view on the normative level is compatible
| with any view on the meta-ethical level. Let me illus
trate . If one believes with the pure emotivists that
ethical statements are noncognitive and that moral
concepts have the logical status of cries or commands, it
is not easy to see how one can at the same time hold the
utilitarian view that right acts are those which maximize
goodness. When the utilitarian says "x is right" he
presumably believes his statement is true, that some facts
I are relevant to or evidence for its truth, and that if
i
|
j someone else says "x is wrong" they are contradicting each
other. The emotivist can make none of these claims. For
him, the sentence "x is right" expresses nothing but
emotion, and there are no facts or reasons that can be
cited to establish or refute an expression of emotion.
! Since there are, for the emotivist, no ethical facts or
j
| reasons to be mistaken about or to disagree about,
I
i genuine ethical disagreements will be found to turn, not
on differences of belief, but on differences of attitude
| only. Here is a case where decisions on the one level do
j
j eliminate alternatives on the other. Acceptance of the
utility principle cannot, at least in any straight
forward sense, be combined with the emotivist belief that
(
i the function of moral .Judgments is merely to express
feeling, redirect attitudes, and incite to action.
7« From this it should be clear that answers to j
meta-ethical questions can have an impact on the normative j
level, and that A. J. Ayer is badly mistaken when he !
writes, "All moral theories, intuitionist, naturalistic,
objectivist, emotive and the rest, in so far as they are
j I
philosophical theories, are neutral as regards actual 1
I conduct.An analysis of moral concepts and reasons and
judgments can have considerable significance for moral
deliberation and conduct. If a meta-ethical theory
implies that statements in which moral concepts appear
cannot be objectively true, that there is no such thing
as objective moral knowledge, and that what are ordinarily
considered to be good reasons for saying certain types of
conduct are right (or wrong) are not really supporting
I reasons at all, that theory is not neutral to conduct.
To learn and to be convinced that moral Judgments are
really (of the same nature as) disguised commands or
explosions of feeling, that to Judge malicious cruelty to
be wrong is very like venting one's emotions at a sporting
event, and that a serious moral judgment is no more
amenable to proof or rational support than the injunction
"Kill the umpl" will most certainly have implications for
| conduct if before one's "enlightenment" one's reasons for
being moral were thought to be valid only because they
^Philosophical Essays (New York: St. Martin's
^Press, 195^)> p. 246.
i could be supported by evidence and defended by argument.
Because normative arguments and conclusions do sometimes
depend on meta-ethical assumptions, because meta-ethical
commitments are not always ethically neutral, one is
entitled to consider both levels, where the issues overlap,
| so long as he is careful not to confuse them. The
| chapters that follow proceed on this assumption; what is
j
I said In them is intended to provide further Justification
for that procedure.
8. That the rightness or obligatoriness of an act
depends in some way on the good it produces is a thesis
common to all teleological ethical theories, including the
; one Blanshard defends. The major portion of this disser
tation will be given to an investigation of this claim as
i
I it finds expression in the main teleological theories. In
I
the first five chapters a critical analysis is given of
the various forms and defenses of egoism, act-utilitari-
anism, and rule-utilitarianism together with the theories
of value with which they may be allied. Chapter VI is
devoted to Blanshard’s theory of value and the moral
i "ought,” and Chapter VII to the version of utilitarianism
I he defends. Three main conclusions will emerge from this
| study: (l) that Blanshard's utilitarianism is more
defensible than other teleological theories; (2) but that
; his attempt to base right and duty exclusively on good
| must also be Judged a failure; (3) and that the sort of
utilitarianism he offers is Incompatible with his
naturalistic views on the nature and meaning of goodness
CHAPTER I
THE TELEOLOGICAL BASIS OP MORAL OBLIGATION:
THE ETHICAL EGOIST PROPOSAL
1. What makes an act right or our duty to per-
i
: form? Philosophers have traditionally given one of two
answers to this question. Those moralists known as
teleologists have suggested that the rightness of an act
depends entirely on the goodness of its consequences.
They maintain that an act is right only if it brings into
existence more intrinsic goodness^ than any other act open
2
; to the agent. The deontologists, on the other hand, have
' said that the rightness of an act depends not, or not only,
on its consequences, but on the character of the act
1 n
What is intrinsically good is good (desirable) in
itself, for its own sake, though it may be desirable as a
means to some further eud as well.
2
This is but a preliminary statement and the
reader should be warned that it is somewhat inaccurate.
Most, but not all, teleological moralists believe the
rightness of an act turns on the goodness of its conse
quences. Those teleologists known as rule-utilitarians
| say that acts are justified if they are instances of
j rules, and that rules are justified if their adoption
■ has good consequences. More shall be said about this
theory and its complexities in chap. v.
10 i
•5 1
Itself or the principle It embodies. Or to put It ,
I
another way, the teleologists define rightness in terms of j
goodness, while the deontologists are inclined to think
both terms basic and underivative. This is the issue j
between the two schools reduced to Its simplest terms.
But though the issue can be simply stated, it bristles
with difficulties. These difficulties shall have to be
discussed before Blanshard's own position is clearly
before us. For the present, however, the discussion must
i
move in a different direction; we must examine some
teleological theories Blanshard rejects. Having done this
we will be better able to appreciate the influence deon-
tological criticism has had on his own teleological
ethical theory. The first two teleological theories to be
j discussed are ethical egoism (in this chapter) and ego
istic hedonism (in the chapter which follows).
I
2. Egoistic hedonism is a species of ethical
egoism. The ethical egoist holds that an act is right if,
and only if, it is in the agent's best Interest, that is
if it maximizes his own intrinsic good. If the egoist
| limits what is intrinsically good to pleasure, he is an
egoistic hedonist; if he is willing to admit things other
; more elaborate statement of the deontological
theory of obligation is found in chap. iii.
| than pleasure as Intrinsically good, he Is a non-
hedonistlc egoist. Put somewhat differently, we may say
that egoism Is a theory of obligation which might be
coupled with any one of several theories of value. Most
, egoists, however, have been hedonists as well.
j 3* A good deal of recent discussion has been
I
j given to egoism as a theory of obligation. Against
' 4
egoism Kurt Baler has launched a two-pronged attack.
I
Baler, who believes the moral point of view is the disin
terested point of view, contends firstly that any ethical
theory, to be adequate, must make possible solutions when
conflicts of interest arise.5 Baler tries to show ethical
j egoism does not meet this requirement. Secondly, Baler
tries to show that a consistent ethical egoist cannot make
j moral judgments, that ethical egoism is, in fact, self-
I
; contradictoryWith Baler's first argument I am in
substantial agreement: "if the point of view of
morality were that of self-interest, then there could
^The Moral Point of View (New York: Random House,
1967), pp. 95-96.
5as we shall see shortly, Blanshard insists on
this too.
i 6grian Meldin also attempts to refute ethical
S egoism by showing that what the egoist says is incoherent:
"The proper objection to the man who says, 'Everyone
should look after his own interests regardless of the
; interests of others' is not that he isn't speaking the
; truth, but simply that he isn't speaking." "Ultimate
| Principles and Ethical Egoism." Australasian Journal of
| Philosophy. XXXV, No. 2 (1957), 112.
i never be moral solutions of conflicts of interest."? j
i
This endorsement should, however, be qualified with two
I
comments. 1
4. (l) It Is possible for the egoist to Insist
that genuine conflicts of Interest never arise, that when
| the demands of (impersonal) morality and those of self- '
i
i Interest seem to be opposed It Is only because our self
ishness Is not sufficiently enlightened. The Intelligent
egoist, it may be argued, knows that the best way to
serve his own long-range interest is to pay attention to
Q
the needs of others. He realizes that his own interest
and the interests of others never really conflict, and
that the same actions that advance the one also advance
j
the other. The enlightened egoist may be expected, there-
| fore, to be genuinely concerned with, and to actively
minister to, the needs of others. But what seems to be
altruistic activity on his part is really nothing more
than enlightened selfishness, rational self-interest, or
reasonable self-love.
^The Moral Point of View, p. 96.
®For a defense of the view that enlightened ethical
egoism is compatible with acts of self-sacrifice, see two
| articles by the twentieth century ethical egoist Gardner
! Williams: "Hedonism, Conflict, and Cruelty," Journal of
Philosophy, XLVII (November, 1950)> 649-56; and "Comments
And Criticism: Universalistic Hedonism vs. Hedonic Indi-
, vidual Relativism," Journal of Philosophy, LII (February,
| 1955), 72-77.
! !3 i
j
j 5. That the moral (disinterested) point of view J
and that of self-interest are compatible rather than anti- i
! thetlcal was forcefully argued by Bishop Butler.9 Butler ■
! |
: tried to show that the class of actions which follow from j
I
the principle of benevolence and the class of actions
I which follow from the principle of self-love are for the
| most part identical. To promote one's private good is j
| i
therefore to promote the public good, and vice-versa.
In Butler's words:
These ends do indeed perfectly coincide; and to aim
at public and private good are so far from being
inconsistent that they mutually promote each other.
Or again:
I must, however, remind you that though benevolence
1 and self-love are different; though the former tends
most directly to public good, and the latter to
private; yet they are so perfectly coincident that the
j greatest satisfactions to ourselves depend on our
| having benevolence in due degree; and that self-love
is one chief security of our right behavior towards
society.
^Bishop Joseph Butler was not himself an egoist in
either the psychological or ethical senses. In his account
of human nature he makes it clear that he does not believe
men are incapable of acting unselfishly. Self-love and
benevolence take their turns as motives of actions as
indeed they should. See his preface to the "Fifteen
i Sermons on Human Nature," The Analogy of Religion Natural
and Revealed to the Constitution and Course of Nature to
Which Are Added Two Brief Dissertations: On Personal
Identity and on the Nature of Virtue; and Fifteen Sermons
(London: George Bell & Sons, 1902), p. 375.
^"Fifteen Sermons on Human Nature," Sermon 1,
par. 4, p. 387.
■^Ibid., par. 6, p. 389.
i 14 !
i I
! - j
6. What is needed, according to Butler, is not ,
less self-love but more. It is just as unfortunate that
men do not show more self-love as it is that they do not 1
show more benevolence. Emphasis must be placed, however,
on the character of this self-love. It must be rational i
|
| or enlightened, that is, geared to what will satisfy in
| the long run. An unreasonable and indiscriminate self-
love is self-defeating. Far from promoting one's private
interest, it works against it. As Butler says: !
Immoderate self-love does very ill consult its own
interest: and how much soever a paradox it may appear,
it is certainly true, that from self-love we should
endeavor to get over all inordinate regard to, and
consideration of ourselves.12
; Whether or not the demands of benevolence and those of
enlightened self-interest are ever opposed, or better,
I whether one's private interest and the interests of others
I
ever conflict, shall be considered in the next chapter.13
The point to be stressed here is that it is open to the
egoist to claim they do not conflict. And if indeed they
do not, the objection of Baier that the egoist fcannot
solve conflicts of interest loses its force. It is my
opinion, however, that even if private interest and public
good were shown never to conflict, to act always on the
| basis of self-interest would still not be the moral point
12Ibid., Sermon 11, par. 9> P. 488.
13Below, pp. 44-49.
15
of view. It seems somehow counterintuitive to suppose
that any man Is morally good simply because he always does
I what he pleases or what is on the whole prudent. The
I
j moral point of view involves the willingness to give due
consideration to the interests of others in moral
deliberations; it entails regarding every person as an
end and not merely as a means to one's own objectives.
And this posture both rational and shortsighted egoists
emphatically reject.*^
7. (2) It is important to realize that the ego-
j
ist's doctrine of obligation can be analyzed or interpreted
in at least two different ways. John Hospers has suggested
j that we carefully distinguish between personal egoism and
impersonal egoism.*5 The personal egoist thinks his duty
is to promote his own interest. He is not concerned with
what others do unless it affects his own interests. Nor
l^Baier apparently believes that the egoist point
! of view is not the moral point of view because the former
I leads to inconsistency (by making the moral Judgments of
j the egoist self-contradictory and therefore impossible)
; and doesn't permit solutions where interests are opposed,
jWe believe, on the contrary, that whether egoism is con-
! sistent or inconsistent, whether it makes possible the
1 solutions in question or not, it is still not the moral
point of view. It is not the moral point of view because
it sanctions always and only using people for one's own
ends, ends which may or may not agree with the ends of the
others concerned. To merely use people is to treat them
as things rather than as persons with ends and purposes
| of their own.
■^"Baier and Meldin on Ethical Egoism,”
Philosophical Studies, XII (January-February, 1961), 10-16.
| is he concerned with what other people ought to do. He j
' |
may, if he wishes, elect not to speak at all. Or he may |
say simply, "I'm going to do what serves my advantage !
exclusively," and mean it as a statement of intention or
!a prediction. The impersonal egoist, on the other hand, ;
I
I believes the duty of each person is to pursue that person's
i |
jown interest exclusively. Or, he may wish to put his
;position this way: "Let every person do only that which
; serves his own interest."
8. Taking the position of the personal egoist
first, Hosper3 says that while it is true that the personal
egoist cannot solve conflict of interest cases where his
; own interest is not involved, there is no reason why he
i
should. His theory does not require him to adjudicate
such opposing claims, nor is there any reason why he
j - l r
should want to. If approached for a decision, we
should expect him to dismiss the intruder with such a
remark as "Go away" or "Stop bothering me." How about
cases where his interest is at stake? He decides in his
own Interest just as his theory requires.
9. So long as the personal egoist's position
I comes to a simple declaration that he intends always to
iact selfishly, he is not guilty of inconsistency. That he
cannot decide conflict of interest cases where his own
1 l6Ibid., p. 13.
j interest is not involved is a serious objection, however. j
' j
For a moral theory, it would seem, ought to apply in just
I
such cases. To go the way of personal egoism is to con-
I i
cede that one's moral judgment is never Justified if one's !
i !
j own interests are not at stake; if moral reasons are j
! always reasons of self-interest, no Judge can legitimately
j say of anyone's behavior (assuming the judge is unaffected
by it) that it is morally right or wrong.
10. What about the Impersonal egoist? Can he
solve cases where interests clash? If his own interests
are involved, he certainly can. For example, if B is an
impersonal egoist and his interests conflict with K's,
; B's duty is to take whatever steps are to his own advan-
|
: tage. But suppose K comes to B and asks him for advice on
| how to proceed. What is B as an impersonal egoist to say?
This brings us to Baler's second contention, one which is
more forcefully argued by Meldin.
11. This contention, we may recall, is that
ethical egoism is inconsistent. There are three ways to
argue this point.
i 12. (l) If K and B are, say, presidential candi
dates and if K asks B for advice, B must as an impersonal
I egoist (a) urge K to realize his own good, and (b) at the
t
same time say whatever is to his own advantage. Clearly
j B cannot do both; yet his theory demands that both K and
jB realize their own good. The question can be put this
i 18 j
i
' way: Must B, as a consistent egoist, both advise and not j
1 !
advise K to do whatever is necessary to realize K's good
at the expense of his own? Hospers, if I read him correct-!
I
ly, tries to save impersonal egoism from Inconsistency by |
arguing that it is not incumbent upon B to say at once j
| I
I two Incompatible things, that is to offer K contradictory
| advice. It is open to B to remain silent when to encour
age K to vigorously pursue his own interest would damage
B's own. ^
13. I must confess dissatisfaction with this
attempt to save the impersonal egoist from inconsistency.
It seems to me the Impersonal egoist can remain silent
(and thereby escape inconsistency) only if it is not to
his advantage to speak. That it would be to B's advantage
to say something to K in this situation is clear. For
example, it would seem to be very much to B's advantage
to tell K that he wants a clean campaign and a fair
election, to encourage K not to conduct his campaign
according to a purely egoistic strategy, and to offer K
in the event that he is defeated his choice of a cabinet
, seat or an ambassador's post. It would be to B's advan
tage, one would certainly think, to assure his opponent
! that he does not intend to conduct his campaign according
to purely egoistic principles. It is, of course, not
| 17Ibid.
19
necessary that B mean any of this. It is to his advantage
i that K think he means it, for that will help to put K off
his guard and make it easier to dispose of him. For this
reason it seems to me that the Impersonal egoist cannot
in all such dilemmas keep quiet to avoid Inconsistency;
that in some cases, if he is to be consistent he must
be inconsistent.
14. (2) A second way to argue the inconsistency of
Impersonal egoism is to show that the egoist must believe
i what is logically impossible and as a consequence issue
i -I Q
I incompatible directives. 0 Suppose that B and K come to
1 A, an impersonal egoist, in search of advice. What will
l
|
A say to each? Let us explore two possibilities, (a) If
A believes that each man's good is the only good that
counts, he will have to urge B to win over K and K to win
over B. Not only does A believe what is logically impos
sible, namely that there is more than one good each of
! which is the only good,^9 but he must give inconsistent
|
: directives besides. Now clearly, if A in fact does
I -----------------------
j ^^Brian Meldin pursues this line of attack in his
i article "Ultimate Principles and Ethical Egoism," pp.
j 111-18.
^cf. G. E. Moore's remark: "What Egoism holds,
therefore, is that each man's happiness is the sole good—
I that a number of different things are each of them the
j only good thing there is— an absolute contradiction I No
more complete and thorough refutation of any theory could
be desired." Prlncipla Ethlca (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 19o2), p. 99•
I
I
believe a logical contradiction and if his theory requires
him to issue inconsistent advice to B and K, his position
is an untenable one. But Hospers points out that the
egoist need not place himself in this predicament.
(b) The impersonal egoist (in this case A) may
' believe that every man ought to pursue only his own good
! without believing that each man’s good is the only good.
i
If this is what A believes, he will of course urge B and
K to try to win over each other. And as Hospers points
out, there is nothing inconsistent in this.2® A is not
saying, "I hope you, B, win over K" and ”1 hope you, K,
win over B." He is simply encouraging both to try their
: best to emerge victorious. I believe this defense of
Pi
impersonal egoism is more successful. ■ L
15* (3) A third way to show egoism to be
inconsistent is taken by Baier. To make his point Baier
considers two presidential candidates, B and K. He
2®"Baier and Meldln on Ethical Egoism," pp. 15-16.
^Whether it is entirely so I do not know. Daniel
Kading and Martin Kramer argue that this defense is also
a failure. The gist of their argument, if I have caught
it, is this: that if the impersonal egoist is simply
urging A and B and C and D to do their best to win, he
cannot think it relevant who wins. If this is so, he
j cannot Justify his encouraging each to win. If he is to
! justify his belief that each ought to be encouraged to
i try to win, he must appeal to utilitarian considerations.
: In short, impersonal egoism is inconsistent insofar as it
both denies and presupposes utilitarian considerations.
"Mr. Hospers1 Defense of Impersonal Egoism," Philosophical
I Studies. XV (April, 1964), 44-46.
! 21 ;
assumes It Is In the Interest of B that he be elected and
that K be defeated, and that It Is In the Interest of K
i
that he be elected and that B be defeated. :
Prom this it would follow that B ought to liquidate
K, that it is wrong for B not to do so, that B has not i
"done his duty" until he has liquidated K; and vice j
I versa. Similarly K, knowing that his own liquidation j
is in the interest of B and therefore anticipating B's '
! attempts to secure it, ought to take steps to foil B's
j endeavors. It would be wrong for him not to do so.
| He would "not have done his duty" until he had made
! sure of stopping B. It follows that if K prevents B
from liquidating him, his act must be said to be both
wrong and not wrong--wrong because it is the preven
tion of what B ought to do, his duty, and wrong for
B not to do it; not wrong because it is what K ought
to do, his duty, and wrong for K not to do it. But
one and the same act (logically) cannot be both
morally wrong and not morally wrong. 2
Baler's argument is that on egoist principles it follows
that one and the same act 13 both wrong and not wrong.
16. Hospers argues (unsuccessfully, I believe)
1
| that there is no inner contradiction here:
Let it be admitted that to say that one and the
same act is both right and wrong is to be guilty of a
self-contradiction. . . . But the case presented by
Professor Baier is not that of one and the same act
being both right and wrong. It is a case of two acts,
one by B and the other by K. They are two acts of
the same kind, namely attempted murder (or the attempt
to foil the murder-attempt of the other), but there
is no contradiction in two such acts being attempted
or in both being right. It might well be B's duty to
try to dispose of K, and K's duty to try to dispose
22The Moral Point of View, p. 95.
22
of B. Since there are two acts here, one by B and one
by K, the situation of one and the same act being both
I right and wrong does not arise and no contradiction
arises either.23
According to Hospers, Baier's mistake is to assume that
there is only one act which is both wrong and not wrong
when in fact there are two acts, one by B and one by K.
K's preventing B from doing his duty (liquidating K) is
one act; B's attempt to liquidate K is another act. So
long as there are two acts involved, we do not have a
case where the same act is both wrong and not wrong.
! Hospers is of course quite correct in pointing out that
there are two acts here, but nothing of importance turns
on that. What Baier is saying is that one of the acts,
namely K's, is describable in two ways: (a) as the
preventing of B from doing his duty, and (b) as the ful
filling of K's own duty. Baler's assumption is that to
j keep someone from doing his duty is wrong, while to do
! one's own duty is right. Prom this he draws the conclusion
i
I that the egoist must hold what is logically impossible,
j
| viz., that K's act is both wrong and not wrong. To quote
j
| part of Baler's argument again,
i
i If K prevents B from liquidating him, his act must
be said to be both wrong and not wrong— wrong
because it is the prevention of what B ought to do,
23"Brian and Meldin on Ethical Egoism," p. 11.
For a lucid discussion of this and other criticisms of
personal and impersonal egoism see John Hospers, Human
Conduct (New York: Harcourt, Brace, & World, Inc.,
I9SI7T”PP • 163-69.
his duty, and wrong for B not to do it; not wrong j
because it is what K ought to do, his duty, and wrong |
for K not to do it. But 'one and the same act (logic- j
ally) cannot be both morally wrong and not morally
wrong. i
17- There are but two ways to argue that the
inner contradiction of which Baier speaks does not exist: j
, (l) by denying that K's act is describable in these two !
| ways, or (2) by challenging Baler's assumption that to
keep someone from doing his duty is wrong while to do
one's own duty is right. For the impersonal egoist,
neither avenue is closed, (l) He may say that K's act,
while it is the fulfilment of his own duty, does not pre
vent B from doing his. For it is no part of the egoist's
; doctrine that each man ought to succeed in realizing his
own good, only that he ought to try. That is, one's duty
! is to look after his own interests to the best of his
!
ability. Assuming one does this, he has not failed in his
duty. In this case, K's duty is to look out for himself
and he succeeds admirably; but in doing his duty K has not
prevented B from doing his. That is, in preventing B from
liquidating him, K has not prevented B from looking after
himself exclusively, K has not prevented B from trying his
best to liquidate K and thereby to emerge victorious.
! Thus, K's successful attempt to stop B from disposing of
him is not incompatible with B's abortive attempt to
speed K's demise. So long as both are conscientious in
1 pursuing their own good, though both cannot win, both
i 2 ^
jsucceed in doing their duty, and no wrong arises. In
short, the impersonal egoist may claim that the only
context in which wrongness can be predicated is when an
individual fails to diligently seek his own interests
exclusively; since we may assume B and K are not guilty of
I
I this, both are doing their duty. Hence, K's act cannot be
i
j described a s "the prevention of what B ought to do, his
j
duty"; hence K's act cannot be said to be both wrong and
not wrong.
(2) The impersonal egoist may hold that it is
everyone's duty, not only to look to his own Interests
alone, but to succeed in realizing his own good. If this
is his claim, then K's act is describable in two ways:
(a) as the preventing of B from doing his duty, and (2)
; as the fulfilling of K's own duty. It should be noted,
i
however, that these descriptions as they stand are not
logically incompatible. They become logically incompatible
descriptions only when Baler's assumptions are granted.
These assumptions are (a) that it is right to do one's
own duty, and (b) that it is wrong to keep someone else
from doing his. Thus, the impersonal egoist has to attack
the second assumption. (To attack the first would be self-
{ defeating, since his own position commits him to the view
that to do one's own duty is right.) The crucial question,
; then, is this: Is it wrong for K to keep B from doing
jjiis duty?
! This is a tough question and I am not sure how It j
is best answered. On the one hand, the impersonal egoist
apparently holds that it is bad or wrong whenever anyone !
actually fails to realize his own good. If this is his j
|
view, B's failure must be Judged to be not good. Now if
|
j the egoist believes that any act which keeps a man from 1
J protecting his interests is wrong, K's act is surely
1 wrong. And since K’s act is at the same time successful
in protecting K's interests, his act must be at once
wrong and not wrong. But the egoist need not place him
self in this predicament. He may deny that Just any act
that keeps a man from securing his own good is wrong. He
! may remind us that his position, after all, is only this,
that each man's duty is solely to realize his own good,
i If a man's duty extends no further than this, no man can
i
fail in his duty (i.e. do what is wrong) merely by pre
venting another man from doing his duty (or what is right).
In short, assuming the impersonal egoist can consistently
say--as he seems able to--that it is not wrong for one man
to prevent another from doing what he ought to do, the two
descriptions of K's act are rendered innocuous; that is,
it will not follow from them that K's act is both wrong
i
; and not wrong.
18. One more task remains before bringing this
1 chapter to a close. A few remarks must be made about |
psychological egoism and its relation to ethical egoism,
since the truth of the latter is sometimes thought to rest j
|on the truth of the former. In this discussion an attempt 1
I will be made (l) to set forth the doctrine of psychological!
I j
egoism; (2) to see whether there are good reasons for
accepting it; and (3) to explore the relationship between
psychological and ethical egoism.
19. Psychological egoism is the doctrine that all
men act from selfish motives, that it is impossible for
oh
anyone to act from motives other than self-interest.
Perhaps the most prominent modem philosopher who accepted
|this theory of human nature is Moritz S c h l i c k . Schlick
i
argues that when a person chooses between individual acts
or specific ends he always chooses, and is determined to
o f\
choose, the most pleasant or agreeable. This he
oh
According to C. D. Broad, this doctrine was held
by Spinoza, Hobbes, T. H. Green, and F. H. Bradley. See
his Five Types of Ethical Theory (Paterson, N. J.: Little-
; field, Adams & Co., 1959)* P* 99•
2^See Moritz Schlick, Problems of Ethics, trans. by
jDavid Rynin (New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 1962),
j chap. il.
^Specifically, Schlick was a psychological
ihedonist. For a statement similar to Schlick's see W. H.
Sheldon's "The Absolute Truth of Hedonism," Journal of
! Philosophy, XLVII (May, 1950), 285-304.
j ’ ~ - " " ~ 27
! presents as a law of human motivation.^7 But, the objec
tion may be raised, What about the martyr who willingly !
chooses pain and death for the sake of some cause, or the |
: person who sacrifices his own happiness or life for a
friend? Do not such acts prove false the thesis that
I
everyone always does what he believes will bring about his
| own greatest good (pleasure)? Not at all, according to
Schlick:
The hero acts "for the sake of a cause"; he desires to
carry out an idea or realize a definite goal. It is
clear that the thought of this goal or that idea domi
nates his consciousness to such an extent that there is
in it hardly room for any other thoughts. At least
this holds in the case of inspirations, from which
alone an heroic act can arise. It is true that the
idea of his own painful destruction is present, but,
however burdened with pain it may be in Itself, it Is
Inhibited and repressed by the predominant end-in-view,
which finally triumphs in an "act of will," in an
I effort which becomes stronger and sharper the longer
and more clearly the thought of the unavoidable catas-
: trophe confronts him. . . . Inspiration is the greatest
pleasure that can fall to the lot of man. To be
Inspired by something means to be overcome by the
greatest Joy in the thought of it. The man who, under
the stress of Inspiration, decides to help a friend
or save another creature from pain and destruction,
whatever the cost, finds the thought of this act so
profoundly joyful, so overwhelmingly pleasant that, at
the moment, the idea of the preservation of his own
life and the avoidance of pain cannot compare with it.
And he who fights for a cause with such Inspiration
that he accepts all persecution and insult realizes his
idea with such elevated pure joy that neither the
thought of his miseries nor their actual pain can pre
vail aught against it. The notion of giving up his
purpose because of the pain is, for him, more unpleas
ant than the pain itself.
^ Problems of Ethics, p. 36ff.
^®Ibid., pp. 45-46. Also see pp. 48-50.
28
20. Schlick has clearly presented the psycholog
ical egoist's theory of human motivation according to which
each man always does, and Indeed must, seek his own
apparent good. The question we would like most to answer
is this: Is this theory true?29 Unfortunately, this
question is one which I am unable to answer. We can,
however, tackle this less ambitious one: Does the
psychological egoist succeed in showing that no man can
deliberately act in an unselfish manner?
| 21. (l) The most the psychological egoist can
claim is that some (perhaps even all) seemingly altruistic
acts may be given a selfish interpretation.30 But to show
this is not to demonstrate the truth of psychological ego
ism. It may well be possible to show with equal plausi
bility that some (or even all) seemingly selfish acts are
29a . C. Ewing says flatly that this theory has
been thoroughly repudiated by modem psychology. Ethics
(New York: Crowell-Collier Publishing Company, 1962),
p. 29. And C. D. Broad believes that as a psychological
theory it was effectively killed by Butler. Problems of
Ethics, p. 55.
30This seems to be the view of Blanshard.
Speaking of psychological hedonism in particular, Blan
shard says he does not find it logically inconsistent.
That is, it is logically possible for a person to work for
the happiness of persons close to him only because their
happiness makes him happy. But though this is possible,
it is very likely untrue: "Most philosophers who have
considered it have thought that, whatever its holder may
profess, he was really belying his theory daily. He
would not find his own happiness in promoting that of
others unless he really did desire theirs as well as his
own." Reason and Goodness, p. 241.
j susceptible of an altruistic interpretation. If a psycho-
i
logical egoist objects to such an interpretation on the
grounds that we know quite certainly that we often do act !
in ways which we believe to our own advantage, the reply
can be made that we know Just as certainly that we some- ;
i times act unselfishly, that we sometimes extend help to '
| others without ever thinking of our own good.
1 22. (2) That men do not always think of their own
advantage when they act is so obvious that the psychologi
cal egoist often goes on to say that the intention to do
so is unconscious. Any objection to psychological egoism
based on introspection is therefore irrelevant, for it is
no part of the egoist's case that man is conscious of his
j ■
egoism. To this line of retreat two comments are in
! order, (a) If it is claimed that there are unconscious or
i
subconscious motives which lead men always to pursue their
own good, this is an unverifiable hypothesis. The intro
duction of subconscious motives looks very much like a last
ditch effort to save a theory when the evidence is against
it. (b) If it is legitimate for the egoist to defend his
: theory by the device of subconscious (selfish) motivation,
then by parity of reasoning it is open to an advocate of
l
! any other theory of human motivation to support his theory
|
in the same way. For purposes of illustration, we will
! 30 ;
' i
j invent a new theory and call it psychological altruism. j
i
According to this theory the only reason any person does
'anything is that it will be to someone's interest other j
: than his own. It makes no difference if persons are unable
! to find this motive behind their every act; in many cases
j \
j it operates subconsciously. If it is objected that people I
I sometimes do what they believe to be to their own Interest
i
i exclusively, the psychological altruist can reply that
this is simply self-deception, that all seemingly selfish
i
actions are in fact disguised acts of altruism. The point
is this: if we are unwilling to accept this line of
defense for psychological altruism, why accept it in the
case of psychological egoism.
23. (3) Kai Nielson believes there is little
i
evidence for the truth of psychological egoism, and that
what little plausibility the doctrine does have rests on a
confusion.To point out this confusion Nielson invites
attention to three propositions:
(a) "We only do what we prefer doing . . . or dislike
least."
(b) "We only do that which satisfies our own
personal (selfish) desires."
I
I --------- ■ - - ------
3^If this theory has been held by anyone, I am not
1 aware of it.
! 32"Egoism in Ethics," Philosophy and Phenomeno
logical Research, XIX (June, 1959)> 502-10.
: (c) "We only do that which promotes our own g o o d ."33
Proposition (a) Is obviously true. It Is, Nielson points
out, an analytic truth, a simple truism. What the psycho- j
| logical egoist does Is to pass from the truth of (a) to
!
the truth of (b) and (c). And he does this because he i
I j
assumes either that (a) and (b) and (c) are equivalent or
! that (a) entails (b) and (c). Nielson argues that (a) and
i
! (b) and (c) are not equivalent. Neither does the truth of
(a) entail the truth of (b) and (c). In fact, the truth of
(a) does not even provide good evidence for the truth of
(b) and (c).
24. We are inclined to agree with Nielson and
conclude that there are no good reasons for accepting
psychological egoism as an accurate and complete descrip-
| tion of human motivation. To say every man is the subject
of all his desires is one thing; that he is the object of
all his desires is quite another. Does thi3 mean psycho
logical egoism Is refuted? No, ours Is a more cautious
conclusion. We maintain only that there is no good reason
to think it true.
25. What is the relation between psychological
and ethical egoism? More specifically, are the two
| doctrines compatible or mutually supportive, or not? It
1
might seem at first glance that there is no relation of
j ^ Ibld., p. 505 •
! 32 ;
i
I entailment or exclusion and that the following options are
available: (l) One may reject both psychological and
ethical egoism, (it is not true that men always and j
necessarily act selfishly, nor should they.) (2) One may
reject the doctrine of psychological egoism but retain the j
j j
i doctrine of ethical egoism. (It is not true that men 1
| always and necessarily act selfishly, but they ought to.)
: (3) One may accept the doctrine of psychological egoism
and reject the doctrine of ethical egoism. (It is true
that men always and necessarily act selfishly, but they
ought not.)3** (4) One may accept both psychological and
ethical egoism, (it is true that men always and necessar
ily act selfishly, and it is right and obligatory that
they do so .)
1 26. Since the time of Kant, it has been fashion
able to believe that "ought" implies "can," that if one is
obligated to do something he must be able to do it.35 now
if it is true that no act can be one's duty if it is impos
sible for him to do it, then it would seem that if the
3^This combination leaves a doctrine implying that
; men ought not do what they can't help doing.
35see Immanuel Kant, Fundamental Principles of the
! Metaphysics of Morals, trans. by T. K. Abbott (Indiana-
j polls: Bobbs-Merrill Company, Inc., 19^9)> PP. 64-77.
I See also Lewis White Beck, Critique of Practical Reason
and Other Writings in Moral~~Phllosophy (Chicago: Univer-
; sity of Chicago Press, 19^9)> PP* 140-44, 202.
i doctrine of psychological egoism (that all men are incap
able of acting unselfishly) is true, no man ever has an
| obligation to act otherwise than selfishly. It can be
I
(and has been) argued that the truth of psychological
j
egoism rules out all non-egoistic theories of obligation,
i
j that, in other words, if psychological egoism be true,
ethical egoism is the only normative theory with which it
j
| can be combined. About this we should like to make two
comments: (l) If (the truth of) ethical egoism depends
only on (the truth of) psychological egoism, and if there
are no good grounds for accepting psychological egoism,
then there are no good reasons for accepting ethical
egoism either. (2) It follows that if one always and
necessarily acts selfishly and ought to so act, then one
| always does what he ought to do. It is impossible to be
i
derelict in one's duties. A theory which has this conse
quence is plainly unacceptable, since it cannot reasonably
be supposed that no one ever fails to do his duty.
It is certainly arguable, then, that psychological
and ethical egoism are not compatible, that if ethical
egoism is true, psychological egoism is false. It makes
sense to say a man ought or ought not to do something only
i
i
| if there is a genuine choice before him. We do not think
|
! babies have a duty to be civil, nor do we praise or
: blame a man when he acts from inner compulsion or under
I
i °6 i
| duress. - J Curiously enough, according to the theory before j
us, man never acts from a genuine choice. He is always
j compelled or determined to act in ways he believes most
I
i to his advantage; whatever he does, he does necessarily.
I
' If this is true, it may be argued, then it is false--or
i !
; better, unmeaning--to say that each man ought to act self- 1
ishly. He will act selfishly; there is no "ought" or j
|
"ought not" about it.
We leave this discussion, then, with our minds
unchanged. The options expressed in (2), (3), and (4) are
untenable: option (4) because there is Just as much reason
to think psychological egoism and ethical egoism are
i
: incompatible as compatible, while to combine the two is
to preclude ever failing in one's duty; option (3) because
i
j what evidence there is does not support the doctrine of
! psychological egoism; option (2) because to merely use
others for personal gain is not the moral point of view.
27. In the course of this discussion it has
become Increasingly apparent that what the ethical egoist
doctrine is is far from clear. We have considered in
: some detail the personal and impersonal forms of ethical
! egoism. Unhappily, variations on ethical egoism are not
1
| -----------------------
1 ^ f i
! J I do not wish to get involved In the complexities
I of the free-will problem. My remarks are intended only to
; indicate that psychological egoism may not be compatible
. with what we think to be the conditions under which we
1 Justifiably ascribe praise, blame, or responsibility.
j confined to these. More complexities can be easily intro- j
! i
duced. Before leaving the topic a few possibilities
1 should be mentioned.37 The ethical egoist may believe: i
(l) that it is my duty to pursue (do those acts which !
advance) my own interest exclusively, leaving it to others I
I !
i to decide whatever they wish; (2) that it is my duty to 1
)
i pursue what I believe to be in my own interest exclusively,
i —
' leaving it to others to decide whatever they wish; (3)
‘ that it is each man's duty to pursue (do those acts which
advance) my_ own good exclusively; (4) that it is each
man's duty to do what he believes is to my_ best interest;
(3) that it is each man's duty to do what I believe is in
my best interest; (6) that it is each man's duty to pursue
I
his own good exclusively; (7) that it is each man's duty
| to pursue what he believes to be in his best interest
i
exclusively.
There are seven alternatives discounting those
added in the footnote.^ Should a distinction be made
37whether the varieties about to be mentioned are
all really forms of ethical egoism may be disputed. If it
be agreed that no principle is an ethical principle unless
: it is universalizable, that no ethical principle can
contain a proper name, then some of the principles listed,
i.e. those which contain a proper name, should not be
j called ethical principles at all.
38it i3 clear that what I believe to be in my best
interest may not actually be so. Hence it is necessary to
, distinguish between what is the case and what I believe to
: be the case. Perhaps even another distinction should be
; introduced. Just as what I believe to be in my best
| interest is not always what is so, so too what is probably
| between act and rule egoism--and I see no reason It should
not— there would be fourteen possibilities.39 Should we
| go on to further distinguish between hedonistic and non-
hedonlstlc theories of value to which the egoist might
commit himself, there would be a sizeable number of posi-
i
tions indeed available to the ethical egoist,
j 28. We cannot, of course, discuss all these. In
i
the chapter that follows only the general doctrine of
egoistic hedonism shall be examined, and that primarily
from Blanshard'3 point of view. It will be useful to do
! so because, as Blanshard points out, egoistic hedonism is
a form of ethical subjectivism. And Blanshard believes
subjectivism in ethics, whatever form it takes, is unten
able. What we shall be considering, then, in the next
I chapter are the objections Blanshard advances against
ethical subjectivism in general and egoistic hedonism
in particular.2 *0 In doing so we shall be (l) closing
in my best interest may not in particular instances actu
ally be so or even be believed to be so. Perhaps, then,
between (l) and (2) should be inserted still another claim:
: that it Is my duty to do those acts which will In all
probability be to my advantage. Similar insertions would
; be in order between (3) and (4) and between (6) and (7).
39The act-egoist would decide each act on its own
! merits; the rule-egoist would decide the obligatoriness of
I Individual acts on the basis of rules, and the rules in
: turn would be Justified by their tendency to promote the
1 egoist's good.
I ^°Our appraisal of hedonism as a theory of value
' will be deferred until chap. iii.
| certain options in the way of teleological theories of
obligation, and (2) moving (albeit indirectly) closer to
J Blanshard1s own objectivist ethic.
29. As a result of the investigations in this
: chapter the following conclusions have been reached: (l) i
| that all egoist theories abandon the moral point of view
i
j insofar as they sanction always and only using people for
one's own ends. In ethics motives count, and the person
whose actions are wholly governed by self-love does not
act on the basis of motives that are praiseworthy. What
ever the outcome (results) of his acts, so long as he
decides every issue in his own favor while refusing even
to consider the interests of others when they oppose his
own, his motives are open to censure. (2) With two quali-
j fications endorsement is given to Baler's claim that
ethical egoism is unable to provide solutions where
interests clash. Firstly, if it can be shown (as Butler
thought it could) that private and public good are not
opposed, that in promoting the one the other is promoted
; also, then Baler's objection is without point. Secondly,
; as Hospers points out, the personal egoist can (without
inconsistency) solve those conflict of Interest cases when
| his own interests are involved. (3) With respect to
: Baler's (and Meldin's) claim that ethical egoism is an
! inconsistent doctrine, we considered three arguments pur-
S porting to demonstrate it and Hospers' counterarguments
38
whereby he tries to absolve the Impersonal egoist of
inconsistency. Hospers' first and third arguments were
unconvincing; his second argument was more successful;
our conclusion was that Impersonal ethical egoism cannot
avoid inconsistency altogether. (4) In the discussion of
psychological egoism the arguments of its advocates were
unconvincing. The attempt to support the doctrine of
ethical egoism by combining it with the doctrine of
psychological egoism was put down as a failure.
! CHAPTER II
!
THE TELEOLOGICAL BASIS OF MORAL OBLIGATION:
1
I
; THE EGOISTIC HEDONIST PROPOSAL
j
! 1. Teleological theories answer differently the
; question "What is intrinsically good?" One of the oldest
and most attractive candidates for the Intrinsically good
is pleasure. This view is that of the hedonists, who
believe that all pleasure, and only pleasure, possesses
intrinsic value. Hedonists have, of course, their dis-
■ agreements. One point of contention is whose pleasure is
j to be regarded as intrinsically good, one's own or every-
; body's.1 The egoistic hedonists take the first position.
They believe one's duty is to maximize one's personal
! pleasure. Put more precisely, the egoistic hedonist thinks
right acts are those which, of all those open to the agent,
will actually or probably bring him the greatest surplus of
pleasure over pain. The universalistlc hedonists— some-
i
times called hedonistic utilitarians--believe one's
obligation is always to act so as to produce the maximum
! Conceivably one might take an intermediate posi-
| tion and hold that only the pleasure of a limited group
j (one's community, perhaps) is intrinsically good.
j pleasure for everyone concerned. They contend that one's
own pleasure (or happiness) is not to be regarded as of
I more intrinsic worth than that of the next person. In
this chapter we shall examine Blanshard's reasons for J
‘ rejecting egoistic hedonism,2 in the next his reasons for |
i rejecting unlversalistic hedonism.
! 2. Egoistic hedonism fails to pass a test to
which Blanshard subjects all ethical theories. The test
may be put as follows: Does the theory allow us to make
those moral judgments we feel compelled to make? If a
theory doesn't permit these judgments, or if it forces us
to radically alter their meaning, we have good grounds for
suspicion.
When someone proposes a test for conduct, how is the
test to be tested? I know of no other way than by
asking whether it squares with the actual judgments of
| sensitive and thoughtful men, which means in practice
ourselves when we seem to be judging most responsibly.
If a course of action fails conspicuously to conform
to the test and yet is rated high by all of us, if a
course of action fulfils the test and yet is rated low
by all of us, one is bound to suspect the test.3
2Unfortunately, Blanshard does not give a detailed
criticism of egoistic hedonism as he does of some other
subjectivist theories. But much of the criticism he
i directs against the subjectivist theories of Hume, Wester-
marck, Ayer, and Stevenson applies, if it is valid at all,
to any subjectivist theory. What I shall attempt to do is
j to pull together these arguments and apply them specific-
: ally to egoistic hedonism as I believe Blanshard would
t were he to do so.
; ^Blanshard, Reason and Goodness, p. 189. Cf. "We
; agree further that if an ethical theory is to be taken
! seriously, it must agree with ordinary responsible Judg
ment about what is right and wrong, since what it is
! 41 i
i Not that Blanshard considers common sense moral beliefs 1
i !
and Judgments sacrosanct or Infallible. If men are some- j
| times mistaken In their scientific beliefs, It Is surely !
conceivable that they are sometimes mistaken In their j
I
moral beliefs. Nor are the unpleasant consequences which |
| i
may follow from the acceptance of a particular interpreta- 1
| tlon of good, right, and duty decisive grounds for reject
ing It; Blanshard concedes that "the correctness of an
analysis Is not to be Judged by the desirability of Its
consequences."^ But If a philosopher propounds a theory,
the Implications of which violate deeply held moral convic
tions and require (or even permit) behavior that reasonable
; men are convinced is Immoral, that philosopher must assume
i
the burden of proof. He mu3t deliver an outstanding case.
! 3. Blanshard's point, then, I think, is this:
i
! that a serious study of ethics may lead one to discard
looking for is the ground on which that Judgment is implic
itly based." Ibid., p. 324. Also see p. 322. Blanshard
is not, then, suggesting that the plain man has assigned
definite meanings to such terms as "right" and "wrong."
What he is saying is that when the ordinary man uses these
terms, there is an implicit criterion governing that use,
though the ordinary man probably doesn't know he is using
: a criterion and might well have a difficult time formulat
ing it. In other words, the plain man is often confident
a specific moral predicate applies, though he cannot say
! exactly what the ground for the application is. He can
| recognize correct application of moral terms, but he
| cannot make explicit the implicit criteria governing
1 their use. This is the philosopher's Job.
^Ibld., p. 264. See also p. 234, and Brand Blan-
1 shard, Reason and Analysis (LaSalle, 111.: Open Court
; Publishing Company, 19o4), p. 125.
j some previously held beliefs as to what is good, right, or J
our duty; but one should be reluctant to abandon too :
j quickly the old for the new. In any case, a study of 1
normative ethics can hardly get under way if we do not
: accept as true our basic moral judgments. If major revi- i
! sion is to occur here, it should follow, not precede,
I careful and exhaustive analysis. j
! !
4. Turning to egoistic hedonism, the question to
be asked is this: What important moral beliefs would we
j
have to abandon were we to accept the doctrine that one's
own pleasure alone is intrinsically good?
5. (l) We should have to set aside our belief
1 that someone else's pain is in itself bad. According to
the doctrine before us, there is nothing intrinsically
| bad in someone else's suffering; nor does anyone have the
!
slightest obligation to relieve it if he is able, unless
it affect3 his own pleasure adversely to see another
suffer. The same holds true with respect to other
people's happiness. Just as the only badness one can
assign to another person's suffering derives from its
effect on oneself, so too one cannot think of another
person's happiness as good unless it Increases one's own.
I
| For the egoist, the pains and pleasures of others are at
i
1 most only instrumentally good or bad, never intrinsically
I
I SO .
43
6. Blanshard finds this most unconvincing. "I
1 do not believe," he writes, "that anyone thinks of good
and bad In a way that would require everyone else to
regard his happiness or misery as something In Itself
of no account."5 if goodness and badness are defined In
this fashion, "neither the plain man nor the reflective
man would agree that It catches his meaning, since it
would commit him In an obvious way to what he would
reject as completely unreasonable."^ What about this
j Is unreasonable?
i
Perhaps we may put It this way: If I were to ask
myself why I regarded a certain state of mind In
myself, for example, a severe pain, as bad, while
regarding as good or neutral an exactly similar pain
in another, I could see, if I were honest, that Its
special relation to me had nothing to do with Its
goodness or badness, that what made It bad was its
character, the sort of experience it was, its being an
intense pain, not the accident of Its happening to one
man or to another. The unreasonableness lies In
making essential to goodness and badness a relation
that is plainly not essential.'
Simply put, the mistake of the egoist is to restrict
^Reason and Goodness, p. 124. See also Brand
Blanshard, "the Impasse In tfthics and a Way Out,"
University of California Publications In Philosophy,
j XXVIII, (June, 1955J, 103. tn this article Blanshard
criticizes emotivlsm on the grounds that it too leads to
the conclusion that there is nothing intrinsically bad
about a famine in India or the suffering in Buchenwald.
^Reason and Goodness, p. 124.
^Ibid., p. 125. Ewing, a man to whom Blanshard
is much indebted, makes the same point in his book Ethics,
p. 28.
I ...................................................................................." ” ' " w *;
i i
, intrinsic goodness and badness to his own experience. In
; i
i
so doing he removes intrinsic goodness and badness from
places where they rightfully and obviously belong. And ■
this fundamental error breeds several more. |
| 7. (2) Whether the taking of pleasure in another's!
misfortune is an appropriate or a fitting response is a
| question the egoist cannot consider. In the presence of
a tragic accident where the victims are in excruciating
pain, the emotion of glee or the feeling of pleasure is,
for the egoist, just as appropriate as that of sympathy or
pity. No response is more reasonable or fitting than any
other. Common sense has it that the feeling of pleasure
is appropriate if directed toward what is good and inap
propriate if directed toward what is bad. But for the
egoistic hedonist there is nothing good or bad apart from
I
\
its effects on his pleasure which could be taken to jus
tify one response as more fitting than its opposite.
Discounting its effect on his own pleasure, it is no less
reasonable or right for him to assault his friend than to
greet him warmly. Ignorance, cruelty, pain, and death,
when they befall others, are not in themselves bad. If
the egoist can, by an heroic act of will, take immense
I pleasure in these occurrences, he can make them good in
, the only sense that anything for him can be good.®
8. (3) Another unfortunate consequence of this
theory 13 that It shifts the grounds of, if it does not
altogether remove, some of our obligations. Consider
what this theory says: One has an obligation to do only
those things which maximize intrinsic goodness, which is,
! it turns out, confined to one's own pleasure. That is,
|
it is one's own feelings of pleasure or satisfaction
which ground every moral Judgment; "x is right" means
simply "x produces more intrinsic good (personal pleasure)
than any alternative act." There is no distinction to be
made between acts that are right and acts that maximize
one's pleasure. The two classes coincide; every member
of one class is a member of the other. This is a radical
! subjectivism wholly at odds with our common sense moral
i
convictions.9 Consider its implications: If another's
suffering does in fact give me pleasure more intense and
lasting than would his happiness, then my duty is to do
nothing to relieve it. And if I can by increasing that
person's suffering increase my own pleasure, it is my
; duty to do so.
; ^Compare remarks on pp. 214-16 in Blanshard's
| Reason and Goodness. See also his "Subjectivism in
! Ethics— a Criticism," Philosophical Quarterly, I
(January, 1951), 128-29.
^A similar criticism of the emotivist doctrine is
found in Blanshard's Reason and Goodness, p. 13^ff.
j
46
9. The hedonist may respond that though this Is
true, It entails no great change In our duties. After
all, we are so constituted that we are deeply moved by
the happiness and misery of those whose lives we can In
greater or lesser measure affect. Such being the case,
In order to secure and enlarge our own happiness we shall
have to bend our efforts to fill the lives of others with
happiness.1® Hence one may rest assured that the conduct
of the rational egoist will not be markedly different
j from that of the altruistic saint.11
10. Whether Blanshard would agree with this
assessment I do not know. I am Inclined to think that to
a large extent he would. What he would Insist on, I am
j sure, Is that this response Is mere evasion, that it is
irrelevant to the point at issue. That issue is the
! source of our obligations.12 Ought we to help those less
j 1(^The egoistic hedonist may even insist it is no
| part of his case that the best way to Increase one’s
' pleasure is by aiming directly at it. That is, it Is
| consistent with his position to say that our own pleasure
: is more increased when we aim directly at, say, the
I happiness of others or the general good. What he must
! say, to be consistent, is that we ought to aim at these
other things only because they increase our own pleasure,
not because they are themselves Intrinsically good.
11This was Butler's argument. See above, pp.
13-14.
12Ewing puts it this way: "Even if the egoistic
hedonist could show that his view was compatible with the
ordinary cannons of morality as regards the external
nature of actions, he would still not have Justified his
position. For it is not only the external act, but the
J fortunate than ourselves only because doing so increases
I
our own happiness, or are there other grounds for this
I
i obligation which the egoist ignores?
11. That the latter is the case can perhaps be
shown with the help of an example. Let us suppose I am
i
serving my country in uniform while my country is at war.
I I have been assigned to sentry duty, to watch for the
approach of the enemy. Unfortunately I fall asleep and
awake to find the enemy all around. If I do as I have
been told, that is fire my rifle to warn my sleeping
comrades, I shall surely be spotted and instantly killed,
for the enemy is known never to take prisoners in raids
such as these. Now where does my duty lie? If I make a
I
move to warn (and thereby probably save the lives of many
' of) my comrades, I shall die. If I hold my position
quietly and wait till the enemy passes, I can very likely
escape when the attack begins, but all my buddies will die.
Now it seems clear that the egoist would have to
advise the latter course of action.^3 That I could
maximize my own pleasure or happiness by dying is absurd,
motive which counts in ethics, and the motive he suggests
is one which we must regard as essentially unethical."
Ethics, p. 25.
13cf. Kai Nielson's remark: "Ethical egoism must
contend that it is never right for a soldier to volunteer
for a rear-guard action that will almost certainly mean
his own death. This must be so, no matter how just the
war or how great the needs of his comrades and country."
"Egoism in Ethics," p. 508.
48
| unless, of course, there Is an afterlife where dying under
such circumstances brings great reward.1* * But short of
I this hypothesis, I do not see how the egoist can say my j
duty lies where I and most others believe it lies.1^ Here,
^ then, is a case where egoistic hedonism requires of me a
! course of action plainly at variance with what I and others 1
i^Kai Nielson puts it this way: "It is most para
doxical in such a theory to say that a man who volunteers
: for a rear-guard action that will most probably result in
his death considers this as a good instrumental to his
welfare. This might be plausible if the egoist in question
were also a supematuralist and felt that this action would
be instrumental to his reward in heaven. But it is at
least thinkable that the egoist might be an atheist and
how, if he were an atheist, this act could then be viewed
as personally instrumentally good is far from clear."
Ibid., p. 507. Ewing believes that even the hypothesis of
a future reward is unable to justify the egoist's self-
! sacrifice: "In all civilizations of which we know it has
been held that It was sometimes a man's duty to risk
; gravely and even sacrifice his health and life. That is a
strange way of acquiring the greatest pleasure possible for
1 the agent. It is not legitimate for the hedonistic egoist
to reply that the man will be rewarded in a future life,
for even if we grant this we must admit that the only
reason for thinking that the action will be rewarded is
that we already think it right and admirable, and we cannot
therefore, without committing a vicious circle also hold
that the reward makes it right." Ethics, p. 24.
^ P e r h a p s it would be better to say that if I were
an egoist, I should have to counsel myself to "sit tight."
If another egoist were asked, he may not wish to offer any
; advice; my predicament may not interest him. Or, provided
he is a personal ethical egoist, he may advise a course of
action calculated to increase his own pleasure. Were this
j egoist my commanding officer, he would, if a personal ego-
I istic hedonist, most surely advise against my best interest
I in favor of his own. Should he be an impersonal egoistic
: hedonist, he would, if he elected to speak, I think, have
i to counsel me to maximize my own good, even if it were at
, the expense of his own. But, again, he ought not to
, do that.
should consider my duty. And the reason for it Is that the
egoist bases obligation solely on one's own intrinsic good.
I
j 12. (4) Since for the egoist, all that makes any- !
thing an obligation lies in the individual, it follows
that anyone can remove an obligation by changing his
i 16 j
feelings. If I can get myself to take pleasure in my !
'neighbor's misfortune, then his misfortune becomes good in
1 the only way I can meaningfully judge anything good. The
egoistic hedonist may protest that he does not find it a
pleasurable experience to watch his neighbor suffer. That
may, of course, be true. But suppose a potent drug became
' available, the only effect of which is to make its user
; take pleasure in the misfortune of others. If the obliga
tion of the egoistic hedonist is to maximize his pleasure,
! should it not be his duty to take this drug? To this the
j
egoist might reply that he does not find it pleasurable to
contemplate an act (that of taking this drug) which would
render pleasurable for him another's misery. This may
also be true, but even if it is, it makes no difference.
His duty is to maximize his pleasure, so the only relevant
i question here is whether, on balance, taking this drug will
produce more pleasure than not taking it. And as we have
| stipulated, this the drug will do. If, as our egoist says,
! he finds it a source of (initial) displeasure to
1 l%lanshard, Reason and Goodness, p. 133-
! 50 i
I j
j contemplate an act which will greatly increase his overall j
I |
pleasure, then, it would seem he has an obligation to j
! change, if at all possible, his attitude toward that i
I j
source of displeasure. Since his only duty is to maximize |
I
' his pleasure, what he takes pleasure in is Irrelevant. i
1 13. This raises the question of consistency in !
ethical belief and practice. But as Blanshard points out,
for the subjectivist there is no inconsistency.17 If the
egoistic hedonist finds that what maximized his pleasure
last year, say, mistreating his mother-in-law and shower
ing with verbal abuse, does not do so this year, he has no
warrant for supposing that last year he was mistaken in
1 thinking his treatment of his mother-in-law was good or
1
right, provided that he correctly assessed the effect of
j that practice on his pleasure.!® Last year abusing her
1
was good; this year it is not.
14. What would the ordinary man say about this?
He would doubtless reply that what one takes pleasure in
is not irrelevant, and that there is something unfitting,
17ibid., p. 137.
!®A. C. Ewing criticizes subjectivism in ethics
^ along the same lines. See Ewing, The Definition of Good
j (New York: Macmillan Company, 19^7) > P* £>• Ewing intends
! his criticisms to apply to egoistic hedonism as well as to
i other forms of subjectivism: "Practically the same objec-
1 tions apply whether the subjectivist takes ethical judg-
; ments to be about the speaker’s feelings or about his
. thought or about an attitude of mind Including feeling,
| thought, and conation alike." p. 8.
inappropriate and downright wrong in taking pleasure in j
another's misery. To consider it under any conceivable !
circumstances good (or a duty) to rejoice in another's
misery sounds absolutely monstrous. But as we have seen,
for the egoist any response is as appropriate as any
other.19 jf ray wife dies or my children go insane, let
me, if I can, greet her death and their insanity with
cheer. If I am able to find more pleasure in the occur
rences of these events than in their nonoccurrences, that
I removes their badness and turns them into positive goods.
15. (5) It follows from the doctrine of egoistic
i hedonism that no ethical statement carries universal
i
I on
validity. w Whether a given act is good or bad, right
or wrong, so far as A is concerned depends entirely on
how it affects his pleasure. Whether the act is good or
j bad, right or wrong, so far as B is concerned, depends on
j how it affects him. And the act may affect A and B quite
! differently. To revert to our example21 let "X" stand for
j
: "sitting tight," "A" for "me," and "B" for "one of my
"^^Blanshard offers a similar criticism of emotiv-
ism which, he says, "renders all our attitudes arbitrary
and groundless." The Impasse in Ethics and a Way Out,
p. 104. See also Brand Blanshard, "The New Subjectivism
in Ethics," Philosophy and Phenomenological Research,
IX, No. 3 (1949), 50b.
2®The one exception would be the statement "One
ought always to do what maximizes one's pleasure."
21Above, p. 47.
comrades." Since X would be productive of the most
pleasure for (is in the interest of) A, X must be Judged
to be morally good by him. But X is not in the best
Interest of B. Thus B must regard X as morally bad. If,
however, A and B's roles are reversed, X must be Judged
good by B and bad by A. Now the egoistic hedonist may
retort that X when done by B is another act, and that
since these are two separate acts it is not the case that
there is one act which is said to be at once good and
not good.
16. It Is of course true that X when done by A
is one act and that when done by B it is another. But the
conclusion which is drawn from this distinction, viz.
that A and B may each, without a trace of inconsistency,
Judge X to be a morally good act when performed by him but
a morally bad act when performed by the other, surely con
flicts with what most conscientious men believe. Most
reasonable men would insist that the distinction to which
1
j the egoist calls attention is morally irrelevant, that If
j all other conditions are equal, A's sitting tight cannot
be Judged (by anyone) to be morally good if B's sitting
tight is not. That is to say, if the two acts are exactly
similar in all morally relevant respects (and it is not
morally relevant that A is one man and B another), then
the two acts are in their moral aspects identical. Both
are therefore either morally good or not morally good.
5 3 j
1 OO j
■ To judge otherwise is to be inconsistent. ^ That the j
! |
egoist's theory permits one to say that these acts are j
! different in morally relevant respects strikes the average !
man as perversity or moral blindness. It is surely a |
reasonable supposition--but one the egoistic hedonist can- !
j
jnot recognize--that one's moral obligations go beyond (and !
j sometimes against) one's self-interest, that to be moral
or just or to offer valid moral judgments it is (at least
at times) necessary to be Impartial as between one's own
interest and the interest of others. But the egoistic
hedonist can never be impartial where his own interest
or pleasure is at stake if he is to be true to his
theory.23 por being moral has nothing to do with
being Impartial; reasons of self-interest are the only
good moral reasons and they ought always to prevail. To
I
be impartial or just or unbiased in cases where to be so
will result in less personal pleasure is to fail miserably
in one's duty.
22Blanshard makes this point on p. 137 in Reason
and Goodness. He thinks the fact that subjectivist
theories do not recognize the Inconsistency insisted on
: by the average man is itself a strong objection against
all forms of subjectivism in ethics.
2^This, Blanshard thinks, is a defect in all sub-
j jectivist theories. Blanshard believes that the essence
! of justice is impartiality and that, accordingly, neither
egoism nor any other subjectivist moral theory can give
: an adequate account of the principle of justice. See
; pp. 131-32, 235 In Reason and Goodness.
L.
i One thing can be safely asserted, and that is this,
i I
l j
that the egoist, rather than constructing a theory which :
i
explains the data of ethics (the main moral convictions j
of the plain man), rejects that data almost in toto. He
! i
i
is not content to challenge or discard only those less
| j
' essential moral beliefs or opinions about which even the 1
i plain man might concede doubt and the possibility of being
i
i
i mistaken. What he does in fact is to disregard the
| strongest and most essential of these beliefs, beliefs
which anyone but a radical subjectivist would say are far
more certain than any theory which makes light of them,
dismisses them, or purports to explain them away.
: 17. (6) If things are good or bad, right or
wrong depending on how they affect my pleasure, then the
; practice of stealing from my neighbors is good if it
1
; maximizes my pleasure. But when my neighbors return the
compliment, I must regard their stealing as bad. Again
the egoist may retort that the illicit transfer of prop
erty always affects his pleasure adversely. But even if
this is so, he can hardly claim his pleasure is just as
much diminished when someone he hardly knows is a victim
of thievery as when he is himself. He therefore ought to
I
| regard theft in the former case as less bad.
! 18. What would the plain man say to this? He
| would probably agree that it is far more painful to be
| stolen from than to read in the papers of theft across
I town. But he very likely would insist that the one theft i
^ j
is no less bad than the other, that its badness is not
! diminished or increased by the accident of its happening j
to one person rather than to another. 2 ^ Once again the j
i !
| implications of egoistic hedonism are at odds with what i
we ordinarily believe. 1
! 19. Let us vary the illustration a bit. I am an
i egoistic hedonist, let us suppose, with an interest in
history. Since my contemplation now of the distant Thirty
Years' War results in far less displeasure than the ran
kling insult I received from a colleague this morning, I
must think that war less bad than the insult.Surely
this conclusion violates common sense. We have no doubt
that the badness of the massive suffering occasioned by
j that war has nothing to do with its effect on our pleasure
now. "About this," the egoist replies, "we are mistaken."
We should confidently say and mean that that suffering
was bad where and when it occurred.20 "Impossible," says
the egoist. We mean to say that even if we had never
lived to be affected by it, even if we had grown up never
2^Cf. Ibid., p. 125.
25Cf. Ibid., p. 113> and Blanshard, "The New
I Subjectivism in Ethics," p. 507*
2^Cf. Blanshard, Reason and Goodness, p. 123} also
Blanshard, "The Impasse in Ethics and a Way Out," p. 103
| and "Subjectivism in Ethics--a Criticism," p. 130.
i “ . . . . . . . . . . . . ." ' “ ' 56“!
1 I
I
! learning of its occurrence, the war would still have been !
: i
bad.2? "Sheer confusion," he replies. Clearly, if the
doctrine of egoistic hedonism is true, we never mean (or ;
are unable to mean) what we think we mean.
20. (7) Just as the egoistic hedonist is pre-
I j
1 vented by his theory from admitting that there has (or
| may have ) been anything good or bad in the past which has
!
not affected his pleasure, so too he is barred from making
value judgments about events which, if they occur, will
pQ
occur after his death. All of us want our loved ones
to be happy after we die. Presumably even the egoist
would agree to that. What the egoist cannot agree to is
: that after his death it will be good if his family is
happy. To be sure, he can hold that it now gives him
1
j pleasure that his family will be happy after his death;
but he cannot hold that their happiness will be good when
or at the time it occurs, that is after he is dead. For
their happiness can be thought of as good by him only if
and so long as it maximizes his own pleasure. Unfortu
nately, he will not— unless he joins the immortals--be in
; a position to be affected in any way by their happiness
when it comes. Briefly put, any goodness of which the
! 2?Cf. Blanshard, "The New Subjectivism in Ethics,"
; p. 505. Also Brand Blanshard, The Philosophy of Analysis,
Annual Philosophical Lecture (London: British Academy,
j 1952), p. 60.
2®Cf. Blanshard, Reason and Goodness, p. 124.
| " 07
1 ' i
! egoist can meaningfully speak cannot survive his death, i
i I
1 i
unless he does also. j
[
| 21. (8) If egoistic hedonism be true, we cannot I
i i
contradict each other in moral matters. Moore thought I
1 !
this consideration fatal to all forms of subjectivism, j
, and Blanshard agrees. He writes: "We do mean at times
1 to contradict each other about moral matters, but if
i subjectivism is true, we cannot even if we try."29 If A
says "Adultery is right" while B says "Adultery is wrong,"
they are, the egoistic hedonist believes, simply reporting
whether the practice of adultery gives them, on balance,
more pleasure than pain. A's statement is about the
effect of adultery on his pleasure, B's statement about
the effect of adultery on his pleasure. And both state-
j
! ments may be true, since each states a different fact.
i
Is this a tenable account of ethical disagreement?
Obviously not. If we were to ask B, who believes adultery
is wrong, if he thinks his belief contradicts A's belief
such that one belief must be false if the other is true,
B would certainly say, Y e s . According to the analysis
■ before us, B could contradict A only if he meant by his
1 remark, "You A, have mlsreported the effect of adultery on
j - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I 29ibid., p. 138. See also his The Philosophy of
Analysis, pp. 59-60.
; 30g2anshard, Reason and Goodness, p.222ff.
: Essentially the argument Blanshard presents against the
! emotivist analysis of moral Judgment.
I your pleasure; It does not maximize your pleasure as you
believe or have said it does." If B did mean this he
would be impertinent, for surely B is in no position to
know better than A what gives A the greatest pleasure.31
It would seem absurd for B to offer arguments for the
|-thesis that A doesn't find adultery pleasant, Just as it
j would be absurd for A to advance arguments in favor of the
thesis that he does find this practice highly pleasurable.
But in point of fact, the debate of a moral issue never
proceeds along these lines. If we were to ask B if he
really meant to dispute what A c"»ys gives him the most
pleasure, he would say. No. He would insist that adultery
is wrong whether or not it maximizes A's pleasure, that if
A says it gives him pleasure, then most probably it does,
but that A is mistaken in his moral Judgment anyway. In
i
short, the egoistic hedonist does not offer a plausible
interpretation of ethical d i s a g r e e m e n t .32
Nor does he offer any better account of ethical
agreement. If I say "x is morally good" and you say "x is
morally good" we are not, we are told, in agreement in
belief. The goodness I am talking about is one thing, and
the goodness you are talking about is something else.
I
| -----------------------
31lbld., pp. 110, 137-38.
3^cf. Ewing's remarks in The Definition of Good,
p. 5. See also William David Ross, Foundations of Ethics
; (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1939)> p. 24.
j To suppose that Just because we are speaking about the
i
same "x" we are also speaking of the same goodness is a
mistake. Again, common sense and egoistic hedonism
fall apart.
22. (9) The egoistic hedonist is unable to give
| a satisfactory account of general (universal) ethical
j statements. The statement "Honesty is good" or "All men
1 , ,
i ought to be honest means for the personal egoistic
: hedonist "Everyone's being honest maximizes my pleasure,"
for the impersonal ethical egoist "Everyone's being honest
maximizes everyone's personal pleasure."33 What is wrong
with this analysis, Blanshard suggests, is that general
|
ethical statements are reduced to statements of fact or
descriptive generalizations about the effect of honesty
on people's pleasure. And such statements, he says, are
1
not ethical at all; they are merely descriptions of
33j doubt either statement could be construed as
true. To take the first statement, the word "everyone"
presumably includes the egoist, and it is extremely
doubtful that his being honest in every life-situation
maximizes his pleasure. If this is in fact the case,
then the general statement "All men ought to be honest"
is false. And if the first statement is false, the second
i is also. Assuming the impersonal egoistic hedonist does
not in every case find his pleasure maximized by being
! honest, then it is not true that everyone's being honest
j maximizes everyone's personal pleasure. I should add that
this is my own belief; whether Blanshard would agree with
i these remarks I should not care to guess.
I _____
j psychological fact. What the egoistic hedonist would do j
is turn ethics into a branch of psychology.3^ I
j 23. (10) In Blanshard's discussion of emotivism, !
; he suggests that the theory
| I
would afford the perfect justification for 'the j
j perfect crime'. Jones, let us say, is a wealthy old |
bachelor, and I am his veteran manservant. It would '
I be a simple matter for me to alter his will so that it
i should leave me the bulk of his fortune, and almost as
simple to deposit that in his cup which would send him
painlessly off into the sleep that knows no waking. I
; am an expert in these things; I am universally trusted;
and I am confident that I can cover every trail that
might lead to my detection. I carry the plan through
with triumphant cunning. In the present theory, what
is my status? The answer must be that I have committed
no crime at all; I have done no wrongj I have pro
duced nothing bad. Of course my victim would have had
much to say along these lines if he had been accorded
an opportunity, but he was not; his feelings toward
' me, so long as he entertained any, were entirely benig
nant, as everyone else's continue to be. As for his
murder--but no; after all, no murder was committed.
That is a harsh word expressing disapproval, which no
| one feels toward me. The one person who knows of the
I act, namely myself, regards it, on the contrary, as an
act of far seeing strategy, causing no pain to anyone,
consummate in its expertness, and rich in the fertil
ity of Its benefits. To say that in the absence of all
unfavourable attitudes my act was wrong, or my own
resolution wicked, or my benefactor's death an evil,
or my gains Ill-gotten ones, would be meaningless; for
the only use of these words is to express attitudes,
and the attitudes do not exist. It is literally sense
less, then, to say that an undetected wrong is a wrong
at all.35
I have quoted Blanshard at some length because I
! think with some modification what he has said might be
I
; extended to egoistic hedonism. If the conditions he
3^Cf. Blanshard, Reason and Goodness, p. 110.
35ibid., p. 213.
| lays down are all met, that Is if my "crime" is never
detected, if my conscience never bothers me, if I do not
| worry about being found out, if everyone continues to
hold me in the highest esteem, and if the consequences of
my act have brought, and continue to bring, me more
i pleasure and lasting happiness than any other act I might
! have performed, then for me, an egoistic hedonist, what
; I did was morally good. Were I to say in a moment of
lapse, "What I did was bad (or wrong)," I would be
uttering a false statement.
24. (ll) One further criticism might be in order.
The egoistic hedonist believes only one's personal
pleasure is in itself good. He may also wish to maintain
(although he need not do so) that "one's own pleasure" is
| the meaning of "good." If he does, he falls into the
I
naturalistic fallacy.^ If "x is good" means "x maximizes
my pleasure," then it would be pointless to say "x maxi
mizes my pleasure, but is it really good?" For this would
be equivalent to saying "x maximizes my pleasure, but does
it really maximize my pleasure?" But since the egoistic
: hedonist may not intend to offer a definition of good in
terms of personal pleasure but only a criterion of what
i
! is intrinsically good, we shall let the matter rest.
i ^Blanshard believes there is such a fallacy and
i that most naturalistic definitions of good fall victim to
■ it. See Reason and Goodness, p. 320. Our discussion of
i the alleged fallacy is found in chap. vi.
j 25. There is one species of egoism which has not
I
been discussed, but which would have to be considered were
! it our purpose to give a logically complete and exhaustive
treatment of ethical egoism. This would be a sort of
rule-egoism. Its main tenets would most probably be
i / \
these: (1) that all ethical reasons collapse ultimately
into reasons of self-interest, but only long-range self-
interest; (2) that even though moral reasons are ultimately
( prudential reasons, reasons of self-interest may be
appealed to without exception only in the formulation of
a set of principles or moral rules by which to live; (3)
that one must select a set of rules in advance of knowing
one's position in society, that is, one must make the
selection before knowing in what respects one will stand
! to gain or lose by it; (4) that one must be willing that
everyone use the same set of rules in moral deliberation.
This form of egoism, if it could be successfully
worked out, would escape most, if not all, of the criti
cisms considered in this chapter. One attractive feature
( of this theory is that it requires one to act in accordance
with moral principles. It does not allow the egoist to
! decide every moral problem according to his own momentary
| and impulsive interests. Having accepted a set of rules
1 that would in all probability best serve his own long-
; range interests, whatever his station in society might be,
1 the egoist may not then appeal directly to his own
| interests, when he sees it would be to his immediate
I
advantage to violate the rules he has accepted. This
| means, for example, that the egoist is not entitled to
i
steal from others whenever he knows he can get away with
| it and profit handsomely by it. From a purely egoistic
i
I
I standpoint, he could not accept a set of rules permitting
I this sort of behavior before knowing what his own later
j
circumstances would be. Nor would he be willing that
everyone steal whenever there is profit in it, that is
whenever anyone finds himself in the position the egoist
now presumably finds himself in.
This sort of egoist may also claim that he acts
I always according to principles that are universalizable.
I
!
; Now if the moral point of view i3 one of deciding moral
i
j Issues on the basis of principles, principles that one
i
could wish adopted by everyone, the egoist may claim that
I
his is the moral point of view. He most certainly will
not do only that which is to his own momentary advantage,
nor does his theory require that kind of behavior of him.
He realizes that it probably would not be to his own
I
advantage vrere everyone, himself included, to accept a
| set of rules permitting everyone to maximize his own
good in whatever circumstances he happens to find himself.
' That might spell short-term profit for some, but would
I
I mean long-range ruin for almost everybody.
Now if this egoistic theory is allied with a j
; theory of human nature which has it that parasitism, the j
! securing of one's livelihood by means other than produc- !
i
i
i tlve work, is never in anyone's interest, not even in the
I
! interest of the parasite, the egoist's theory looks even
j !
j more inviting. For the egoist now provides a prudential
reason why no one should engage in blackmail or extortion,
even if one could by this means live a life of luxury and
| be completely free of financial worry. If the egoist goes
on to say that self-realization can be achieved only if
the economy is kept free of government controls, only if
public officials are honest, only if dictators are kept
| out of power, he can give reasons why he ought to risk
i
his life in fighting a war or serve as a public official
I
j when he would prefer to be doing something else. He can
i
| justify doing these things, even though they involve risk
and inconvenience, because his basic values are at stake.
!
Obviously, this form of egoism is not nearly so
easy to refute as cruder forms of egoism. It claims, for
example to give a prudential reason why any egoist should
; be honest even though he knows he can avoid detection if
! he is not, why any egoist should participate in political
i
i
j processes even though he may dislike politics, why the
i
I egoist should volunteer to face an enemy on the battle-
I field even though he may be maimed or killed. The claims
I made here and the issues involved are, of course, large
i ones. To deal at all adequately with this type of egoism :
1 I
would require a separate essay. One would have to consider:
i
' in such an es3ay whether a commitment to reasons that are I
: in the final analysis prudential only is, or accords with,
the moral point of view. Psychological issues, and per- !
j !
i haps metaphysical ones as well, would have to be touched I
on, since we should have to fully consider the nature of j
; man and his values in order to discover what self-realiza
tion consists in. Anything less would be skirting the
issues, because what is being said is (l) that it is
ultimately to the egoist's advantage to sometimes risk
life and limb when he knows his efforts will probably not
; be decisive, and (2) that it is more in the egoist's
interest to be dead than to live in slavery. The theory
; is, however, an interesting one, though it seems not to
! be widely held. It is probably this sort of egoism that
Ayn Rand and Nathaniel Brandon are getting at in their
writings on the 0b.1ectivl3t Ethic.37 Unfortunately, the
theory has not yet been stated with the kind of precision
that would give it a fair philosophical hearing.
•^The objections such an ethic has to be able to
meet are clearly stated by John Hospers in his essay
"Ethical Egoism: Introduction to Nathaniel Brandon's
Essay," The Personalist, LI (Spring, 1970)> 190-95*
i Brandon's essay which follows Hospers' introductory one
does not take these objections in hand, but he promises a
reply to them in the next issue of the journal. It will
be most interesting--and probably very illuminating--to
see how Brandon deals with them.
26. It is time to summarize our conclusions.
Blanshard rejects the doctrine of egoistic hedonism, which
! assigns intrinsic goodness to one’s own pleasure alone.
I
The reasons he gives (or would give were he to develop
lines of criticism directed by him against other subjec-
i tlvist theories) we have just set forth. Among the more
j important implications of this doctrine: (l) it does not
: permit us to speak meaningfully of the intrinsic goodness
; of another person's happiness or the intrinsic badness of
his unhappiness; (2) it allows anything to become good
that one can take pleasure in, and makes the nature of
what one takes pleasure in irrelevant to its goodness or
| badness; (3) it does not recognize that doing one's duty
may require conduct which does not maximize personal
j pleasure; (4) it prohibits any statement to the effect
that what maximizes one's pleasure may be morally bad or
wrong; (5)it permits an individual to say it is good when
he mistreats others and profits by it but bad when others
mistreat him in exactly the same way and with equal
profit; (6) it makes impartiality impossible as an ethical
ideal and provides no basis for justice; (7) it forbids
one to say that events which have little or no effect on
i
j one's pleasure may be a great deal worse than events which
i
do; (8) it precludes the making of (even hypothetical)
; value judgments about the goodness or badness of events
! or situations after one's death; (9) It makes ethical
67
agreement and disagreement, as it is ordinarily understood,
impossible; (10) it reduces all ethical statements to
statements of psychological fact; (ll) it would justify
the perfect crime.
An inspection of our beliefs and meaning when we
indulge in ethical (or value) Judgments thus suggests that
the proposed analysis is less than inspired. The egoist
may protest. He may say we are simply mistaken in our
actual beliefs. He may remind us that what we say we
mean is not the test of truth. He may profess to offer
in his analysis only an account of what we would believe
and mean lf_ we were sufficiently clear about our meanings
and self-critical in our beliefs. But Blanshard remains
unconvinced. Asked to choose between almost all our moral
convictions and a theory which would necessitate relin
quishing them, we need not, he thinks, hesitate long.
We agree.
CHAPTER III
THE TELEOLOGICAL BASIS OF MORAL OBLIGATION:
HEDONISTIC AND IDEAL UTILITARIANISM
1. In our first two chapters we were occupied
; with egoism as a theory of obligation and found ample
reason for rejecting it: (l) Egoistic theories, insofar
as they encourage always and only using others whenever
it is to one's own advantage to do so, abandon the moral
point of view. (2) While personal egoism escapes the
: charge of inconsistency, impersonal egoism does not. (3)
The egoists, we agree with Blanshard, are committed to an
|
I interpretation of moral Judgments and beliefs that is an
outrage to our moral consciousness.
I
2. The utilitarian theory marks a significant
advance.^ According to this doctrine, one ought to
| ■ ' ’ That the implications of utilitarianism are more
in line with our ordinary moral consciousness than are the
j implications of egoism is, I think, obvious. William H.
j Werkmeister, who shares our opinion, marks the distinction
\ this way: "It is implicit in egoistic hedonism that each
I individual ought to sacrifice any amount of happiness in
j others if by so doing he can increase his own pleasure
69
perform that act which produces or tends to produce or is
believed will produce the greatest amount of intrinsic
good for everybody concerned. One's own good is not to be
regarded as of more intrinsic value than that of the next
person. Everybody, as Bentham said, should "count for
one, nobody for more than one."2
To say only those acts are right that produce, or
tend to produce, or are believed will produce,3 the
greatest good is, however, a loose way of speaking and may
be somewhat misleading. For one act may conceivably pro-
| duce 1000 units of good and 999 units of evil. Yet on the
i
above reading, this act, since it produces more good,
I
would be better than another act which produces 900 units
of good and no evil at all. This conclusion must be
avoided. Hence we shall say instead that an act is right
! even to the slightest degree more than he can by following
i any other course of action. But it is implicit in univer-
! sallstlc hedonism that each individual ought to sacrifice
S his own happiness if by so doing the total net amount of
i happiness in the world is increased more than it would be
| if he did not make the sacrifice." Theories of Ethics
| (Lincoln, Neb.: Johnson Publishing Company, 1961), p. 158.
I 2Jeremy Bentham, The Principles of Morals and
Legislation, p. 1, quoted in Werkmelster' s 'theories of
Ethics, p. 13*1. Henry Sldgwlck expresses it this way:
"One is morally bound to regard the good of any other
individual as much as one's own, except in so far as we
judge it to be less, when impartially viewed, or less
certainly knowable or attainable." The Methods of Ethics
(3rd ed.; London: Macmillan and Co., 1884), pp. 381-8£.
^The reader is again reminded that the words
"produce," "tend to produce," and "believed will produce"
do not cover the same ground.
I 70
i
i
j if, and only if, it produces, or tends to produce, or is
i
expected to produce the greatest net good or the least net
I
I evil or, to cover cases where two or more acts are pro- !
i ductive of equal amounts of net goodness, not less than
the greatest surplus of good over evil attainable. This !
; I
| is a more exact formulation of the utility principle, and !
I when it is referred to in the pages that follow, this is
!
the intended meaning.
3. The utilitarian theory of obligation may in
turn be tied to either of two theories of value. If the
: utilitarian says pleasure alone is intrinsically good or
desirable for its own sake, he is a hedonistic utilitari-
| an.^ If the utilitarian says other things besides
pleasure (or happiness)5 possess intrinsic value, say,
^As examples we may cite Jeremy Bentham, John
Stuart Mill, and Henry Sidgwick.
^Whether pleasure and happiness should be identi-
! fied is a good question. Mill, in any case, did equate
them: "By happiness is intended pleasure, and absence of
pain, by unhappiness, pain and the privation of pleasure."
John Stuart Mill, Utilitarianism, in Mill's Ethical
Writings, ed. by J. B. Schneewind, Collier Books (New
York: Collier-Macmillan Limited, 1965)* P* 28l. To equate
the two is, I am Inclined to think, a mistake. William T.
I Stace seems more nearly right when he says, "one man may
be happy although he has few pleasures or satisfactions;
' while another whose life is replete with pleasures and
| satisfactions may be relatively unhappy." The Concept
j of Morals (New York: Macmillan Company, 1937)* p. 140.
| If Stace's assessment is correct, happiness and pleasure
i cannot be called the same thing. Were we to distinguish
; between them and confer intrinsic goodness on happiness
; only, we should have to introduce a third theory of value,
! the eudaemonlstlc.
for example, love, knowledge, or virtue, he is an Ideal
or pluralistic utilitarian.^
| 4. To be sure, a theory of value which recognizes
only one thing to be intrinsically good is simpler than a
theory which recognizes several. But in this case, the I
I I
simpler theory does not do justice to the facts of moral
i
! experience.^
5. Against the view of Mill and Sidgwick that
pleasure alone is intrinsically (and self-evidently) good,
Q
Ross's arguments seem decisive. (l) Suppose, Ross sug-
■ gests, we have two worlds. In the one all its inhabitants
act from altruistic motives; in the other all act from
selfish motives. Suppose further that the total pleasure
(or happiness) in these two worlds is the same. Would we
| not agree that the first world was better, that it pos-
i
sessed more goodness or intrinsic worth, even though it
. E . Moore, Hastings Rashdall, and Brand Blan
shard are ideal utilitarians.
^In the discussion that follows, no mention is
made of such difficulties in the utility (greatest happi
ness for the greatest number) principle as (l) how differ
ent pleasures are to be compared or measui’ ed; (2) whether
i a hedonic calculus is possible; (3) whether greater empha
sis is to be placed on wide distribution of pleasure or
greatest net quantity; (4) whether pleasures differ quali-
! tatively. We do not think these questions unimportant,
i It is to our present purpose, however, to try to answer
I Just one question: Is pleasure alone intrinsically good?
Q
The three arguments that follow are from William
: David Ross, The Right and the Good (Oxford: Clarendon
; Press, 1930), pp. 136-39.
1
I contained no more pleasui’e than the second? Ross believes
] I
the first world would be better, and self-evidently so.
| (2) Or again, let us assume we have two worlds in which |
! there is the same amount of happiness. But the people in |
i
the one world are intelligent, while in the other every- I
I body is ignorant. Would we not agree that the first world !
I is more intrinsically desirable? (3) Taking these two
I
| worlds once more, let us suppose this time that in the one
the virtuous are happy and the unvirtuous unhappy, while
in the other world just the opposite allotments obtain.
Even if the total amount of happiness in these two hypo
thetical worlds remains the same, is it not self-evident
! that the first world has more intrinsic value? Ross
thinks so. While agreeing with Mill and Sidgwick that
pleasure is self-evidently desirable for its own sake,
i
Ross rejects their belief that pleasure is the only thing
Intrinsically good. Knowledge, virtue, and the just
allocation of pleasures must also be admitted into this
class.9
6. That the intrinsically good must not be
; limited to pleasurable experiences was also argued by
G.E. Moore.'*'0 In ways closely paralleling Ross's, Moore
| argues that aesthetic enjoyments and personal affection
t 9lbld., p. 140.
1 *°Prlncipia Ethlca, chaps. v and vi.
r~" ’ _ 7 3 1
! |
j are also good in themselves. We can see this Is the case ;
1 I
If only we ask ourselves firstly whether we should conslderj
I
; them worth having or worth bringing into existence if they !
[
brought with them no accompanying good, and secondly
I i
whether we should think their addition to any other desir- I
| !
j able state of affairs would increase its desirability. 1
i Moore believes both questions must be answered in the
I affirmative. Now if it is true that something considered
! desirable in itself is made more so when mixed with some
thing else, and if it is true that some things are worth
having even though they do not lead to more pleasure, then
it is clear that more than one thing is good in itself.
7. The point Ross and Moore are making can be
I
i
driven home with the help of other examples. Let us
' take a few.
I
i
(l) Suppose that sometime in the near future we
have at our disposal a pill which causes its user to
’ dream he is torturing his family and neighbors and to
revel in this illusion. Let us assume the pleasure
derived from this imagined activity is greater than any
j other pleasures we know. So far as is known, this pill
’ has no bad after-effects. It does, however, have the
peculiar property of relieving some of the animosities and
j anxieties that build up during the week, thereby causing
| its user to be more pleasant and agreeable. Given these
| assumptions, shouldn't one who believes pleasure is the
i 7 ^ i
i |
| only Intrinsic good and the more of it the better have to j
prescribe at least a limited use of this pill, say once a j
:week on Sunday, perhaps? !
(2) Or to take a slightly different but similarly
out of the way example, suppose that we have two drugs.
To half the population we may give the one, the effect of
jwhich is to induce the most intense pleasure imaginable
when stuck with pins. To the other half of the population
we may give the other drug which causes the same pleasure
when sticking others. If pleasure is the only thing
desirable as an end, and if these drugs have no harmful
effects, would we not be well advised to turn our national
holidays into pin-sticking festivals?
8. (3) That some things considered to be right
! are difficult to justify on the view that pleasure alone
' is intrinsically good can be seen if we ask this question:
Why should we honor those who have died fighting our
nation's wars? Do we really think the reason we ought to
pay tribute to dead servicemen is that it gives us, on
balance, more pleasure to do so than not to do so? If it
were known that turning Memorial Day into a day of raucous
' festivities would perceptibly increase the general happi-
1
J ness of those of us alive, and that the consequences of
; doing this would not dampen patriotism or make it more
j difficult to win future wars, would we feel relieved of
our obligation to remember the sacrifices made and
! 75
i
I
obligated to pursue fun and games Instead? The answer Is
obvious: It Is right to remember those fallen in war
■ whatever its effect on our happiness.
9. (4) One more example will suffice to show how
' difficult it is to square our moral beliefs and feelings
; with the theory that pleasure or happiness is the only
! good of intrinsic worth.H Let us take two Individuals,
i
A and B. A suffers great and undeserved misfortune, and
B, who has long been Jealous of A, secretly takes malicious
Joy in A's suffering. There can be no question that there
is more net happiness in the world as a result of B's
revelling in A's suffering than there would be if B were
sad instead.12 If happiness is equated with intrinsic
j ^-Bertrand Russell uses this example or one very
| like it in his article "The Elements of Ethics," in
| Readings in Ethical Theory, ed. by Wilfrid Sellars and
John Hospers (New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, Inc.,
1952), pp. 1-32.
is
no use for the hedonist to say that he
approves of B's pleasure but not of the way he gets it.
For as Sidney Gendin points out, one cannot always
separate a man's happiness from what he is happy about or
its pleasure from Its source: "One cannot point to the
pleasure apart from what yields it. One cannot say he
i approves of my pleasure but not the way I get it. There
are not always different ways of getting the same pleasure
(as there usually are when what is involved is a pleasur
able sensation). Some men may commit adultery purely for
| sexual gratification but others may take pleasure in the
! adulterousness of the affair. Their pleasure is adultery."
' "Comments on Smart's An Outline of a System of Utilitarian
Ethics," Australaslan~~Joumal of Philosophy, LXV (August,
; 195777 210. Gendin's point is that if adultery is Judged
' to be bad, the pleasure of It must sometimes be Judged bad
J too, that one cannot always disapprove of adultery while
approving of the pleasure it Involves. Now I think the
j goodness, the conclusion follows that there is at the
I
present moment more intrinsic goodness in the world as a
j result of B's rejoicing in A's suffering, that B's taking
i
| pleasure in A's mishap really makes the world intrinsically
i
better. This conclusion seems to me false. Certainly in
|
| this case there would be more intrinsic goodness in the
i
j world if there were somewhat less happiness. And this
j
means that intrinsic goodness and happiness (or pleasure)
are not the same thing, that Intrinsic value is not always
in direct proportion to pleasure or happiness.
The matter can be put this way: Should we, on the
grounds that their Joy will increase the amount of intrin
sic goodness in the world, advise those who are able to
take secret delight in the assassination of a President
! they intensely dislike? To be sure, pleasure of this sort
i
may have bad long-range consequences, in which case the
pleasure would be instrumentally bad. But if secrecy is
assured, it is conceivable that no harmful effects will
result, in which case, for the hedonist, the pleasure
same might be said with respect to our example. If A's
i misery is that in which B's pleasure consists, if B's
pleasure could not be derived from another source, then
it is not possible to disapprove of the source of B's
j pleasure while approving of his pleasure. Thus, the
| hedonist cannot hope to make his theory more palatable by
I drawing a distinction between pleasure and what provides it
1 and then suggesting that while pleasure is never other
S than Intrinsically good, its source or how it is gotten is
| another matter altogether, a matter which is irrelevant to
! the intrinsic goodness of pleasure.
I 77
j taken is both intrinsically and instrumentally good. The j
i |
pleasure would be good through and through; that is to say,j
I it would be an unqualified good. This assessment I cannot j
I
accept. It seems clear to me not only that pleasure is not
the only intrinsically good thing, but that some kinds of j
i pleasurable activities or pleasurable states of mind are ^
! not intrinsically good. Put another way, it seems to me
no less false to say all pleasurable experiences are
intrinsically good or good in themselves than it is to
say only pleasurable experiences are intrinsically good.
Pleasure taken in another's suffering is not desirable for
its own sake. Even if this sort of pleasure had no other
; effects (which is, of course, unlikely), it still ought
not to be prized.^3
10. The ideal utilitarian position is more
tenable than that of the hedonistic utilitarian. Both
positions have it that what makes right acts right is
their tendency to produce good and that one's duty is to
act in such a way as to bring about the greatest good or
13If the hedonist does contend that pleasure is
intrinsically good whatever its source, he cannot mean by
the intrinsically good "that which ought to be desired for
its own sake." For pleasure in the suffering of others
! certainly ought not to be desired for its own sake. If
j the hedonist is going to call such pleasure intrinsically
! good, he will have to offer a definition of the intrin-
* sically good which makes no reference to an "ought." He
i will have to mean by the intrinsically good something
: other than "that which in itself--and consequences apart--
j ought to be."
I __________________________________________ ____________ _______________
the least amount of evil. Where the Ideal utilitarian
view gains in plausibility is in its recognition that
there are several intrinsically good things in addition
to pleasure or happiness, for example, understanding,
love, moral character, aesthetic enjoyment, and doing
one's duty. This is the view of Blanshard. There is no
question in his mind that if we say all right acts are
right because they conduce to good and then limit the
intrinsically good to happiness or pleasure, the deonto-
logists have the better argument. But the utilitarian
view that right and duty is dependent on the good "becomes
much more plausible ... if the good admits other
elements than pleasure, and more plausible still if it
is allowed to include the good of the frame of life to
which the act belongs."1* *
The ideal utilitarians have made a strong case
for themselves. After all, one might ask, what better
reasons or grounds could be adduced for doing one thing
rather than another than that the one will (or is liable
to) produce more net good than the other? What more
rational basis for ethics could be desired?
l^Brand Blanshard, Reason and Goodness, p. 158.
Blanshard is not speaking of Just any way of life, but of
a way of life that is fulfilling and satisfying.
11. We have suggested that the teleologlcal j
| conception of moral obligation is more defensible when
! combined with a pluralistic theory of value than when
j
! intrinsic worth i3 accorded to one thing only. The deon-
I '
| tologists, however, reject both hedonistic and ideal util- 1
itarianism insofar as both theories share the view that
all right (or obligatory) acts are those which produce not
; less than the greatest possible good. ^ They do not
believe the property of producing goodness is in every
i case sufficient to make an act right. In other words,
what the deontologists find objectionable is the teleo-
! logical theory of moral obligation to which every
j
! utilitarian subscribes.
I
| 12. Squarely opposing the teleologlcal view that
i
| right and duty depend upon good, H. A. Prichard in an
i influential article said, "An 'ought,1 if it is to be
i
derived at all, can only be derived from another
'ought.'" To suppose that the rightness of an act, or
i our obligation to perform it, depends on some good which
i will be realized in or by the act, is to base moral
: philosophy on a mistake. It is Prichard's opinion that
| l^Among the more distinguished deontologists are
! Immanuel Kant, Thomas Reid, Richard Price, H. A. Prichard,
E. F. Carritt, and W. D. Ross.
l6"Does Moral Philosophy Rest on a Mistake?"
Mind, XXI (January, 1912), 24.
iall teleologlcal moralists are guilty of this fundamental
i
error, for whatever their individual differences, all
i agree that actions are right if and only if they bring
good into the world, and that our duties are based on
consequences that conduce to somebody's good, welfare, or
advantage. But as Prichard sees it, right and duty are 1
I not grounded in goodness. An act may be right even though,
so far as anyone can predict, it will produce more bad
consequences than good consequences. The question, of
course, arises: If the obligatoriness of an act does not
rest on the goodness of its results, on what does it
depend? To this Prichard replies that one should do his
duty on the grounds that it is clearly seen to be his
duty.1^ In other words, what Is right or obligatory is
j self-evident to the agent in the concrete circumstances of
his action. Just as one should believe what is true
because he sees it is true and not because it conduces to
somebody's advantage, so too one should do his duty just
because it is seen as a duty. No further Justification
is possible or required.
13. Joining in the attack on the view that what
produces the most good Is always right, Ross points out
| that if one has promised to do something, his duty depends
! at least in part on the fact that he has made the promise,
I Ifibid.
j and not solely on the goodness of the expected results of
-l Q
keeping it. ° In other words, If a person has made a
; promise and later discovers an equal amount (or perhaps
I
| slightly more) goodness could be produced by breaking It,
his duty to keep the promise Isn't set aside.
14. Nor does the plain man think otherwise.- * - 9
! If having made a promise the plain man were asked why he
intended to keep It he would surely not reply, "Because I
can produce more good by keeping It than by breaking it."
He believes that the mere fact of having made a promise is
a sufficient reason for keeping it. This clearly shows
the plain man does not believe it is the productiveness of
maximum good which makes all right actions right. And
Ross thinks the plain man is correct.20
I
15. Ross is not, of course, suggesting that there
is no duty to produce good. His point is this, that
l^Ross, The Right and the Good, p. 18.
19lbid., pp. 17-18.
2®Prlchard agrees that the teleologlcal account of
duty is at variance with our ordinary moral beliefs.
"Suppose we ask ourselves," he writes, "whether our sense
that we ought to pay our debts or to tell the truth arises
from our recognition that in doing so we should be origi
nating something good . . . . We, at once, and without
j hesitation answer 'No.1 Again, if we take as our illus-
| tration our sense that we ought to act justly as between
I two parties, we have, if possible, even less hesitation in
giving a similar answer; for the balance of resulting good
i may be, and often is, not on the side of justice." Does
: Moral Philosophy Rest on a Mistake?" p. 25.
1
l
I
j producing good is only one of our duties. There are
I
other duties, such as, for example, keeping promises and
telling the truth. And these duties do not depend on the j
i O l I
goodness to which their fulfillment leads. x In other j
i
1 words, the fact that one has made a promise is an inde- I
; !
| pendent reason why one should keep it.22 How many '
J
j distinct types of duties are there? Ross recognizes
l
1 seven prima facie duties,23 all of which, he believes,
are self-evident.
16. Suppose, however, that two (or more) of these
prima facie duties, each having an independent claim on
us, conflict. If I find that to keep my promise I shall
! bring unhappiness into the world, what shall I do? In
such cases as these one must, Ross suggests, compare the
competing claims and act in accordance with the stronger.
i
There are no general rules for deciding which prima facie
2^Ross, The Right and the Good, p. 24.
22This means we have a duty to keep our promises
even though we do not know if doing so will be productive
of goodness. What if we are sure that to keep a promise
will not have good consequences, that to keep it will
produce much unhappiness? In such cases, Ross suggests,
■ it may be our duty to keep the promise, or then again It
, may not. Here we must decide between competing prima
: facie duties.
| 2^(l) Duties of fidelity, (2) duties of repara-
: tion, (3) duties of gratitude. (4) duties of justice,
! (5) duties of beneficence, (6) duties of self-improvement,
j (7) duties to refrain from injuring others. The Right
I and the Good, p. 21.
j duties are the stronger or more binding.2* * Nor is there
I
one absolute duty such as "Always do what produces the
I greatest net good or the least net evil" to which one
I
: can appeal in making his decision when conflicting
I
! obligations arise.
| 17. It is important to notice that prima facie
| duties do admit of exceptions, that they are not absolute.
i
What is absolute (and self-evident) is the claim of each
; such duty upon us.2^ We may put it this way: all prima
facie right acts tend to be obligatory, and it is this
tendency which is exceptionless. Prima facie right acts
(or duties) are in fact absolute duties only if a more
pressing obligation i3 not present.
18. Ross's departure from Kant, an earlier
deontologlst, is nowhere more apparent. In recognizing
that duties do admit of exceptions Ross is at once less
rigorous and more credible than Kant, who believed duties
1
are absolute. According to Kant, one should always tell
the truth and keep his promises, no matter what. Suppose,
2^To this there does seem to be one exception.
Ross says the prima facie obligation to refrain from harm
ing others has more weight than the prima facie obligation
to do others good. Ibid. This, I take it, means that we
: are never Justified in injuring A to help B if the good to
I B only balances the harm to A. Precisely how much of an
! imbalance there would have to be for there to be an actual
obligation to help B at the expense of A Ross does not say.
2^Ibld., p. 28ff. See also Ross's Foundations of
1 Ethics, p. 86.
i
1
f . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . - - - - 8 4
however, that I have made a promise to keep a secret. A
short time later it is demanded that I reveal the content
j of the secret under conditions where I am obliged to tell j
; the truth, say in a court of law after I have sworn to tell
1 the truth. If I keep my promise I shall have to lie, and i
j !
i if I tell the truth I shall have to break my promise. I !
j cannot have it both ways. Yet, according to Kant, I have
|
' an absolute duty both to always keep my promises and to
always tell the truth.
i
19. Ross, happily, puts us in no such predica
ment. He is able to say that under some conditions it is
right to lie or to break promises. What I must do in the
situation just described is to weigh these two obligations
against each other and make good on the weightiest. But
; though Ross1s theory of obligation is superior to Kant's,
' it is not altogether free from difficulties. This is
apparent when we ask how we are to assess competing
obligations to determine which should take precedence.
According to Ross, there is no single overriding duty,
no supreme principle of action to which an appeal can be
made. Because of this it may at times be extremely
difficult, even impossible, to say with confidence where
I
I one's actual duty lies.
j
20. Ross is not unaware of this problem. He
j frankly admits that the relative strength of competing
; prima facie duties may be very difficult to measure and
that a man can never be completely sure his assessment is
correct. All he can do is decide as best he can with the
aid of rational intuition. Whether we can in the end
avoid this conclusion will depend on our appraisal of the
: utilitarian theories in the chapters that follow.
! 21. Ross and Prichard agree, we have seen, that
I what makes right actions right is not always their pro
ductiveness of good. There are situations where on the
basis of a good producing consequences one should act in
a way that would be opposite to what he normally thinks
to be right. Before turning to the utilitarian reply,
let us put the deontologlst1s case as forcefully as we
are able with the help of three illustrations to which
reference will be made again in the next chapter.
22. (l) Suppose I am the trusted servant of a
rich old man who has used much of his considerable wealth
to build a collection of antique automobiles. I borrow
!
a sum of money from him and promise to pay him back in
one year. Six months later this man suffers an attack of
amnesia from which, doctors agree, it is most unlikely he
; will ever recover. He no longer remembers that I owe him
money. Nor does anyone else know about it. Since I am
I now in complete control of all his business interests and
have access to all his files, it would be easy for me to
! tear up our contract. Suppose further there is an ambi-
i tious, bright young lad in my neighborhood who wants to
j become a teacher of handicapped children. His family is
I
poor, however, and is unable to finance his college educa-
! tion. I could do so anonymously with the money I owe this j
old man. He does not really need the money anyway. I
1 know that should I repay him he will probably buy just j
; ]
one more automobile.
Now which act on my part would be the right one?
' If the rightness of an act depends exclusively on the
goodness of its probable consequences, as the utilitarian
thinks, the answer is obvious. I should without hesita
tion finance this young man's education. The deontologist
believes, on the other hand--and he believes that most
i
men would agree--that I probably ought to repay the loan,
even though the old man will not use the money to equally
| good advantage.
23. (2) Let us suppose I am part of a military
unit in combat. I have been wounded and one of my fellow
soldiers pulls me to safety at considerable risk to his
own life. In all probability this man saved me from
death. The war ends and several years pass. Then, unex
pectedly, two of the soldiers from my old unit, one of
which is the man who saved my life, ask me for a small
I
| loan. I unfortunately have enough spare cash to help only
; one of them. So far as I am able to determine, both would
| put the money to equally good use. Whom should I help?
j The utilitarian, Ross believes, would have to say it makes
no difference and call it a tossup. But Ross believes
it is clear that I ought to help the man who risked his
| life to save mine. To do otherwise would be to ignore ■
I the "highly personal character of duty."2^ It would still |
I
J be right to help this man even if our calculations indi-
j cated slightly more good would be produced if I helped '
[ i
S the other man. If this is true, then what is right cannot
be wholly dependent upon consequences which follow the
act in time.
24. (3) Another objection which the deontologists
are quick to mention is that on utilitarian grounds one
can justify punishing an innocent man for the greater
good of society.27 Suppose a given community has experi
enced an outbreak of lawlessness, which in turn has given
{ rise to great suspicion and fear. The authorities have
i
not been able to get enough evidence to convict anyone,
and this has encouraged the lawless elements to expand
their activities. Many law-abiding people are becoming
2^Ross puts it this way: "If the only duty is to
produce the maximum of good, the question who is to have
the good--whether it is myself, or my benefactor, or a
person to whom I have made a promise to confer that good
on him, or a mere fellow to whom I stand in no special
' relation— should make no difference to my having a duty to
! produce that good. But we are all in fact sure that it
S makes a vast difference." The Right and the Good, p. 22.
2?As we shall see in chap. v., some rule-
j utilitarians think this criticism fatal to act-
i utilitarianism.
88
Increasingly convinced that crime does pay handsome divi
dends. It is expected that if the situation remains
j unchecked many of these will soon be engaged in criminal
j
! activities too.
I
| Now a break occurs. The district attorney has
!
I managed to collect enough evidence to have arrested and
|
j brought to trial a person disliked by nearly everyone.
I
! This person is lri’ itable, selfish, and lazy; his chief
; pleasure lies in annoying others. He is, in short, a
community nuisance. Since all the circumstantial evidence
! points to his guilt, the Jury will almost certainly con
vict him. If the Judge gives him a stiff sentence, it
j
| will surely help to stem the rising tide of lawlessness
I
sweeping over the community.
J There is Just one problem. The Judge knows this
!
: man did not commit the crime for which he stands accused.
The Judge, while on a late evening stroll, passed by this
man's house and saw him sitting alone at the exact time
the crime was committed five miles away. What should the
' Judge do? He is sure this man richly deserves any punish-
i ment he might get. The Judge knows of two other occasions
j when this man's lawyer was able to get the case against
him dismissed on a technicality. Moreover, it is not
; unlikely that he is guilty of some crimes for which he
j
| has never even been arrested. In any case, it would be
j to the community's best interest if this disreputible
89 I
i
person were tried, convicted, and sent to jail. A stint j
j
in Jail might even improve this man's character. j
In light of these consequences, is it not the !
judge's duty on utilitarian grounds to keep silent and
let the judicial processes put this man away? Assuredly
|
so, say the deontologists, which clearly shows the utili- !
tarians make a mistake when they base the rightness of
an act on the goodness of its results.
25. It is time to sum up. In the first part of
this chapter the difference between hedonistic utilitari
anism and ideal utilitarianism was brought into focus.
Arguments were given to establish that intrinsic goodness
cannot be limited to happiness or pleasurable experiences.
We concluded with Moore and Blanshard that ideal utilitari
ans have a far better case than the hedonistic utilitari
ans .
Whether ideal utilitarianism is immune from
criticism was the topic of Part II. Powerful arguments
by the deontologists Prichard and Ross against the
legitimacy of basing right and duty on goodness were
presented. Whether any utilitarian theory can effectively
meet them and others we shall introduce will be the
subject of the next four chapters.
CHAPTER IV
THE TELEOLOGICAL BASIS OF MORAL OBLIGATION:
ACT-UTILITARIANISM
1. In the last chapter we examined some very
powerful objections to the teleologlcal theory of obliga
tion. Needless to say, the utilitarians do not find these
objections as telling as do the deontologists. Our ques
tions, therefore, In the first part of this chapter are
these: (l) How have the utilitarians tried to meet the
criticisms of the deontologists? and (2) Have they been
successful?!
I
2. One utilitarian ploy, viz. that of the act-
utilitarian, is to say the deontologist1s case is
^The utilitarian may, of course, refuse to try
to meet them. He may prefer to take the bull by the horns
and frankly admit it is right to break promises, convict
innocent men, and show ingratitude in cases such as we
have described. Most utilitarians are, however, reluctant
to do this, for this kind of admission is usually thought
to be fatal to a theory.
r ' ~ ' 91" '
: convincing only If one Ignores enough consequences.2 Of
course everyone agrees it would be right for the man In !
our first example^ to pay back his debt. Nor must the j
utilitarian conclude otherwise. It is only on the grounds
i
for this conclusion that the utilitarians disagree, and
the utilitarian is prepared to argue that his grounds are 1
I
the stronger. In other words, the deontologist makes his
case against utilitarianism by not allowing the utilitar
ian to make a full calculation of consequences.
3. (l) What are some of the consequences which
the deontologist conveniently overlooks? It is possible
that the old man will regain his memory. If that should
happen, he may demand payment of me. Since I will have
torn up the contract, litigation proceedings are not
likely to result, but I shall certainly lose my Job,
nasty accusations may be broadcast, and my reputation
may be tarnished beyond repair.
4. Nor would the community be unaffected. The
publicity attending such a disclosure would surely tend
to reduce public confidence in the institution of
2Thls kind of defense is pursued by the act-
utilitarian T. L. S. Sprigge in his article "A Utilitarian
; Reply to Dr. McCloskey," in Contemporary Utilitarianism,
! ed. by Michael D. Bayles, Anchor Books (Garden City, N. Y.:
; Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1968), pp. 261-99.
^Above, p. 85.
| promise-keeping. Consider also the acute embarrassment
such a disclosure would cause my wife and children.
5. Even if I am never found out, think of the
; anxiety I may suffer just worrying that I might. This
! could drive me to drink or to the abuse of my family or
j make me irresponsible in my work. At the very least, I
shall have to play the part of a hypocrite, which will
! surely affect adversely my moral character. And having
j
broken one promise will make it easier to break others,
the consequences of which are almost certain to be bad.
6. (2) In the case of the ex-soldier, the deon-
tologist's argument looks plausible only because, once
! again, significant consequences are overlooked. Not to
l
help the person who once saved my life can be expected to
have bad consequences. He may well spread the story of
my ingratitude, and if he does my reputation will suffer.
Most people, after all, believe one ought to pay back
debts of gratitude. If it is learned that I did not do
so, whatever public esteem I enjoy will be substantially
reduced. Furthermore, I will almost certainly lose the
: respect of this soldier and perhaps also that of the
soldier to whom I give the money instead. Whereas, if I
j explained to this soldier who has done me no special
service why I am refusing him, he would doubtless under
stand, respect my decision, and even (perhaps grudgingly)
! approve it. Were I to give the money to him Instead and
iexplain to him why on utilitarian grounds I did so, he
would probably respect me less and, when it came time to
I repay, serve me in kind by giving what he owes me to a
person more needy. In addition, the utilitarian can point
out that the greater good of society is best served if
i
debts of gratitude are always kept. This is a useful
ipractice which, by encouraging us to act unselfishly,
makes everyone's life more secure. We are, after all, far
more inclined to extend a helping hand if we are confident
those we help will do the same for us when we are in need.
If the public confidence in this practice is destroyed--
and by our individual decisions we either weaken or
istrengthen it--everybody loses.
7. (3) With respect to a Judge who is tempted to
1 sentence a man for an offense he knows he did not commit,
j
similar considerations can be invoked. Sentencing him,
the judge would probably suffer the pangs of a guilty
conscience and could be expected to lose a measure of
self-esteem. Moreover, this one instance of dishonesty
will make future violations of judicial ethics easier.
;Nor should we neglect the possibility that it may sometime
come to light that the Judge knew this man was innocent
! but sentenced him anyway. The judge, as a result of an
auto accident or while extremely ill, might become
:delirious and offer this information unwittingly, or
j bothered by feelings of guilt, he may volunteer a deathbed
j confession. If what the Judge did became known, would it
i
not undermine public trust in the Judicial process and
move us one step closer to the law of the Jungle? So,
I
the utilitarian may argue, if we but take the long view
we find the utilitarian theory is quite in harmony with
!
! the requirements of Justice. If the deontologist thinks
| otherwise, it is because he tends to ignore those more
i
( remote but vitally significant consequences which any
unjust act can be expected to have.
8. It is clear that so long as we permit the
act-utilitarian to keep introducing consequences ad hoc
there is no way to show that the rightness (or wrongness)
of an act does not always depend solely on the goodness
(or badness) of its results. What must be done is to
1 close off the possibility of adding consequences. This
I
can be done, I think, in either of two ways: (l) We can
describe a hypothetical situation where all the conse
quences are presumed known and fully taken into account.
(2) We can take a case and try as best we are able to list
all possible consequences so as to make the addition of
further consequences impossible.
9. (l) Let us imagine a case where, all conse-
1 quences considered, the keeping of a promise produces, or
is expected to produce slightly better consequences than
i ~ ..... ~ ” ' ~ " 95
j those which will result if the promise is broken.^ Would |
the utilitarian be willing to say that the promise ought toj
1 be broken?^ Or if we lay it down that, whether the promise!
I
is kept or broken, the same consequences can be expected, j
would the utilitarian willingly admit there is no more j
i I
i [
i reason to keep the promise than to break it? 1
1 10. It is no use for the utilitarian to reply
i
that in fact no situation does exist or could exist where
the good consequences of keeping a promise are exactly
equal to, or are outweighed by, the good consequences of
breaking it. There are two reasons for this: (a) If he
objects on these grounds, "he is," in Blanshard's words,
: "claiming quite unreasonable powers of prophecy."^
(b) Whether such a situation does or might exist is simply
: irrelevant. The point is, If it did exist, would the
i
; utilitarian be willing to stand by his thesis?^
| ^See Ross, The Right and the Good, p. 38.
^Ross puts it this way: "Do we really think that
the production of the slightest balance of good, no matter
who will enjoy it, by the breach of a promise frees us
from the obligation to keep our promise?" Ibid.
Blanshard, Reason and Goodness, p. 148.
^This, I believe, is the view of Alan Donagan as
j well. To say the conditions such as those we have speci-
I fled "have never been fulfilled, even if the objection is
: true (which I doubt), would be beside the point. Moral
theory is a priori .... It is, as Leibniz would say,
; true of all possible worlds. A world in which some murders
| can be painless and undetected is certainly possible. And
' the notion that the reason why it would be wrong painlessly
i to murder your old, unhappy grandfather is that, in the
! 11. Neither Is It permissible for the utilitarian |
! !
to object on the grounds that It Is Impossible to Imagine j
I or conceive of a situation where the consequences are as |
j
I we have described them, and for exactly the same reasons
|
; plus one more, viz., that there Is nothing self-contradic-
| tory In the conditions we have proposed. If the utili-
!
! tarian Insists that It Is self-contradictory to say,
i
I
"Breaking a promise may produce slightly more good than
keeping it,"® we can only think he has raised the utili
tarian thesis to an a priori dogma. And if he really
intends it as such, it must be pointed out to him that he
is no longer entitled to appeal to (empirical) consequences
. to defend his thesis. In short, if the utilitarian wants
to look to consequences to support his thesis that what
; is right always produces the most good, then he must be
I
willing to consider as well those consequences which do
not support that thesis.
12. (2) The second way to prevent the act-
utilitarian from bringing in additional consequences is to
describe a situation in such a way that every possible
; actual world, you could not get away with it, if anything,
is more monstrous than the view that such a murder would
I be permissible." Donagan, "Is There a Credible Form of
! Utilitarianism?" in Contemporary Utilitarianism, ed. by
! Michael D. Bayles, Anchor Books (Garden City, N. Y.:
Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1968), pp. 188-89.
®I do not know of any utilitarian who has openly
held this.
consequence is accounted for. Let us try to do this with
three examples.
I 13. (a) I am, we shall assume, a young man with
a nagging wife and two children. One morning I say to
myself, This is a fine waste of talent. I could be of
I
! great service to humanity, but I am tied to this job to
| support a wife and kids who show little if any apprecia-
!
1 tion of my efforts. Why should I not abandon my family,
change my Identity, sail for Africa? With my previous
training in medical technology I shall join the meager
staff of a medical facility in one of the native villages.
I know these facilities are understaffed, ill-equipped,
; and able to pay their workers very little, but I am
willing to make the sacrifice. In an area where disease
rates are high and human misery is appalling, my efforts
will produce far more good than they can be expected to
if I remain with my family and Job. What about my family?
If I leave, they may not be as well supported as they
presently are, but my wife can work. As things are now,
she belongs to six different bridge clubs and plays cards
, every afternoon. In any case, her parents are wealthy
and they will support my family. And just think of the
I
I many lives I shall save if I follow through with these
plans. Suppose further there is no way I can be appre-
; hended or traced and that once I am in Africa no one will
i
! check or care about the circumstances of my arrival.
i ___________________________________________________________
; ’ ' ~. "..... ' ' 98’ ,
i I
i is it not clear that my going to Africa will have ;
I !
far better consequences than my remaining where I am? The !
I
| utilitarian may reply that I shall have a guilty con- |
I
science if I leave. But why should I? If I do what is j
j
right, that is what I am confident will produce the most
| i
1 good, why should my conscience bother me. On the utili-
I
! tarian theory, I should expect to have a far more troubled
' conscience if I do not go. If it is objected that I
might sometime become delirious and reveal my past, we
must remember that over there no one will care. But even
if they did care, assuming that they too are utilitarians,
they shall approve of my action.
The utilitarian may object that I have not consi-
I
dered the Implications my desertion will have on the
: community. My wife and family may be embarrassed and my
i
’ act can be expected to reduce spouses' trust in one
another. This is of course true provided that it is
known or suspected that I deserted my family. But I am
the only one who will know. I have not given anyone,
including members of my family, cause for such suspicion.
As for my mysterious disappearance, people are more likely
to think I was abducted and perhaps disposed of than to
! think I deliberately left my family. In any event, no
one will have grounds to think otherwise.
: If the utilitarian is unsatisfied with this reply,
! I believe we can arrange it so that no one will even
l
1 —_____________________________________
j suspect I deserted. Since I am an avid fisherman, let me i
! |
tell my family I am going fishing, take my boat out to j
1 sea, swim back to shore and depart for Africa. When my |
boat is discovered, it will be assumed that I drowned.
Since bodies are often washed out to sea, no one will j
| become suspicious when efforts to recover my body are !
j i
I unsuccessful. I shall depart with my reputation intact,
and my family will be spared embarrassment.
The utilitarian may raise further objections. He
may point out that I shall have to lie to my wife because
if I am truthful with her and tell her of my plans she
will either not permit me to leave or have me brought back
if I do. Lying, he will say, is a bad habit, and he will
remind me that one lie usually requires another. Moreover,
every lie I tell only makes it easier to tell others,
I
most of which are certain to have bad consequences.
How shall we respond to this? First of all, it is
not true that I shall have to lie to my wife. I may say
nothing at all and Just take my leave. If the utilitarian
retorts that if I do not lie to her I shall at least have
to deceive her, and that deception is generally Just as
bad as lying, we are quite willing to agree. We are even
I willing to admit that lying (or deception) is a bad habit
1 and that most lies (or attempts at deception) have bad
: consequences. But we remind the utilitarian that he does
I not himself believe lying (or deception) is always wrong.
i 1 0 0 j
|According to his thesis, it is right to lie or deceive j
in those instances where the consequences of doing so are j
.better than the consequences of not doing so.9 We believe !
ours is such an instance and challenge him to show other
wise. Secondly, any habit that will be reinforced will be i
! ;
I a good habit. To tell a lie or to deceive when a very 1
!careful analysis reveals doing so will maximize goodness
is a good habit, and the act-utilitarian should be the
first to recognize this. Thirdly, to the charge that one
lie usually calls for another and another we agree. But
in this case we are confident it will not. One of our
conditions was that once I am in Africa no one will care
^G. E. Moore, it is significant to note, accepts
the act-utilitarian thesis but draws a curious conclusion
from it. "Our 'duty,*'1 he writes, "... can only be
defined as that action, which will cause more good to
| exist in the Universe than any possible alternative.
And what is 'right' or 'morally permissible' only differs
from this, as what will not cause less good than any
possible alternative." Princlpla Ethlca, p. 106. Moore
I goes on to say, however, that we ought to follow generally
useful rules in deciding particular acts. Moore realizes
"that in some cases the neglect of an established rule
will probably be the best course of action possible."
But if we ask, "Can the individual ever be Justified in
assuming that his is one of these exceptional cases?" his
reply is that "it seems that this question may be defi
nitely answered in the negative." He goes on to say:
"It seems, then, that with regard to any rule which is
generally useful, we may assert that it ought always
to be observed." Ibid., p. 162. Moore's position is,
I think, untenable. If it is true that in some cases
' the right act violates a rule (as Moore admits), and
if it is true that we ought never to violate an estab-
; lished rule (which Moore also admits), then Moore is
I committed to the view that it is sometimes our duty to
' do what is wrong.
I 101 " I
I I
j about my past. I may, of course, have to lie once or j
' twice before my arrival, but these lies will again have !
| the best possible consequences. And again we remind the j
j utilitarian that he himself believes it is right to tell j
1 two lies or even a hundred if doing so in each case
i ' |
; maximizes goodness. !
| All the objections mentioned have been disposed
: of. If there are others that could be raised, we do not
know of them. We are inclined to think that an honest
appraisal of the consequences will show the most good
would be produced by my going to Africa. If in view of
that we are still reluctant to say that desertion would
; be right, we cannot truthfully say we believe the right-
!
ness of an act depends always and only on its actual or
: probable or expectable results.
i
! 14. (b) For our second example, let us assume
two men, A and B, are the only survivors on a ship that
has gone down at sea.1® By sheer luck they latched onto
a small raft containing a few marginal provisions. After
several days afloat, their strength is ebbing, their
i supplies are running out, and a storm is rapidly approach-
; ing. There is no help expected; it is probable both shall
j - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
! 1®J. D. Mabbott gives several examples of this
i sort in his articles "Punishment," Mind, XLVIII (April,
j 1939)> 152-67; and "interpretations of Mill's 'Utilitari-
anism,'" in Theories of Ethics, ed. by Philippa Foot
I (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 19°7)> PP* 137-^3.
j 102
i
| die. A and B realize that the small raft will not carry
them both through the storm. But one might be able to
ride It out, and If unexpected help arrives soon after,
j It Is possible, Just possible, that one can survive. Now
‘ A tells B that he will drop Into the sea and give B that
i
| chance to survive if he will promise to take the money A
! has In his wallet, a sum of $6000, and use It to finance
A's son's post-high school education or Job training. B
I
gives his word and over into the sea A goes.
B manages to survive the storm and is rescued
shortly after. He goes home and tells no one about the
money or the promise. Three years later A's son graduates
from high school. It turns out he is not too bright or
ambitious. He wants to go to a top-notch trade school to
learn how to repair washing machines. Meanwhile, B has
read in his newspaper of a bright, industrious young man
who wants to become a doctor. The tests this young man
has taken indicate that this is the profession he is best
suited for, and that his chances of succeeding in this
profession are excellent. But, unfortunately, he comes
from a poor family. They cannot afford to put him through
medical school. Neither has he been successful in landing
any scholarships or loans. If he could make it through
the first two years, however, he would be able to borrow
enough to finish the last two.
| B ponders this situation. He knows he could
finance this man's first two years of medical school with
| the $6000 A gave him. But to do so, he would have to
break his promise to A. It is clear to B that he can
produce the most good by breaking his promise to A. A
! doctor, after all, can do far more good for humanity than
i
I a washing machine repairman. If A's son is denied trade
I
school it is not unlikely he will end up doing something
just as useful as repairing washing machines, while if the
other young man is denied medical school it is very
unlikely he will become anything a3 useful as a doctor.
If B is a utilitarian and believes he ought to spend this
money where it will produce the most good, should he not
break his promise to A and put this young man in medical
school?^
' The utilitarian cannot retort that B's reputation
may be damaged if he breaks his promise. Since no one
H e . F. Carrltt offers a similar argument:
"Suppose that two explorers in the Arctic have only enough
food to keep one alive till he can reach the base, and one
offers to die if the other will promise to educate his
children. No other person can know that such a promise
was made, and the breaking or keeping of it cannot influ
ence the future keeping of promises. On the utilitarian
theory, then, it is the duty of the returned traveler to
j act precisely as he ought to have acted if no bargain had
I been made: to consider how he can spend his money most
I expediently for the happiness of mankind, and, if he
thinks his own child is a genius, to spend it on him."
Ethical and Political Thinking (New York: Oxford Univer-
: sity Press, 19^7), p. 64.
I
1 .
! 104 " j
knows of the promise, no one will think badly of him If
he falls to aid A's son. Neither will his action tend In j
| any way to weaken the public confidence In the Institution |
I
I of promise-keeping.
The utilitarian might reply that B will think
j !
I badly of himself if he breaks his promise. But why should 1
j i
iB think badly of himself? He believes he ought always to
j
! do what will produce the best consequences. He is confi-
; dent that breaking his promise will produce the best
consequences. He will therefore act from the best of
motives, viz. the desire to do his duty. Furthermore,
B's character will not be adversely affected nor does he
have any reason to expect a nagging conscience. A sense
l
■ of guilt can be expected and one's character can be
damaged only if one believes he is doing (or has done)
I what is wrong. B in this case believes he is doing what
is right.
Neither can the utilitarian say that to break this
promise will institute or reinforce a bad habit. Any
effect the breaking of this promise would have on B's
j habits would be good, for the utilitarian believes every
decision should emerge out of a careful evaluation of all
I
j lO
j relevant consequences, Just as this decision has. c
j think we may say that only if B keeps his pro-
I mise should we expect to find his conscience troubled and
, his habits and character adversely affected.
r~ * ” ’ " £051
I !
j A full review of the consequences clearly shows
that hardly any good (and perhaps nothing but badness)
I will result if B keeps his promise, while a great deal of |
i good will accrue if B breaks it. If this assessment is
correct--and we challenge the utilitarian to show other-
i l
! ^ |
j wise--would not the consistent act-utilitarian have to 1
j
i admit without demur that B would be guilty of an egregious
j
wrong were he to keep his promise?
; If, however, the utilitarian still feels uneasy
with our analysis, we are prepared to go one step further.
Let us assume there is a drug at B's disposal, the only
effect of which is to blot from his memory the fact that
he made a promise to A on that raft. If he takes that
drug, there Is no possibility that he shall ever feel
1
guilt. It will rule out any conceivable effects his act
1
might have on his habits or character. Since he will no
longer remember making the promise, he will never be able
to reveal it in a state of delirium or in a deathbed
confession.
Should the utilitarian still hedge and proceed to
i suggest that we have still overlooked one possibly bad
consequence, namely that B will at least remember having
| taken a drug to forget something, and that this might
|
initiate a bad habit, we have our reply at hand. We need
i only add one more property to this drug. Not only will it
| cause B to forget the promise he made, but it will at the
! ” " ’ 106 |
i j
| same time cause him to forget having taken the drug to
forget the promise.^3 with this we have, I believe, cut
! off any utilitarian appeal to additional consequences, and
i
we await his decision.
15. (c) The third example can be briefly stated. i
! |
Let us suppose that while exploring the interior of 1
l
I
! Africa, my lone companion and I are captured by cannibals.
i
! It comes to this, that my own life will be spared only if
l
I torture my friend to death. If I refuse, we shall both
be killed. On utilitarian principles, is not my duty in
this case plain? If the utilitarian suggests that by
saving my own life in this way, I shall carry with me a
; heavy sense of guilt, and that this guilt would be very
; bad indeed, we say this: A guilt-ridden conscience would
j
jbe bad, but there is no reason why I should have one. As
' a good utilitarian I presumably believe I ought to do what
i
will, or is expected to, produce the greatest good or the
l
least evil. Surely it requires no feat of calculation to
see that it is better that one man die an agonizing death
^Were we to introduce these conditions into our
example of the judge sentencing an innocent man for the
, public good (See p. 88), I think our case there would be
| substantially strengthened. I do not think it would be
j quite as tight as this one, however, because there remains
j the very slim chance that someone may have spotted the
i Judge as he peered through the accused's window. That is,
: while we can put into our conditions that no one, includ-
! ing the accused, saw the judge that night, still the Judge
j could not be absolutely sure no one did. And this fact
provides at least a small wedge for the utilitarian.
L___
i than two. So long as I do what I clearly perceive to be j
!
|
my duty, my conscience should be at peace. •
)
If the utilitarian drags before us the matter of !
i j
bad habits, of others possibly finding out, of a deathbed j
confession, our replies would follow the line of those in j
! i
i the first two examples. Again we believe the honest 1
i utilitarian will have to admit it is not as easy to
decide my duty as his theory would make it.
II
16. When the implications of act-utilitarianism
go against ordinary moral intuitions, the utilitarian may,
instead of abandoning his theory, insist that our moral
! convictions are themselves defective and in need of
; change. Sprigge thinks "something has gone wrong if a
| reply of the latter sort is never made. If the principle
of utility is never capable of reversing views to which
we would otherwise be inclined it has little point. It
should surely guide our moral feelings, not merely be
provisionally adopted subject to its never giving them
a shake-up."1* *
17. I believe we have to concede that to make
I one or two points against the utilitarian theory is not
j
to refute it decisively as a normative theory. But if it
: ***"A Utilitarian Reply to Dr. McCloskey," pp.
! 270-71.
i
i_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
j conflicts often enough, as I believe it does, with deeply j
1 j
held moral feelings, it is seriously undermined. That |
' this is the case we have been trying to make evident with !
i
i I
the help of examples. j
i
18. That utilitarianism has implications that j
are abhorrent to our moral consciousness is nowhere more 1
1 apparent than in the kinds of punishment it Justifies.
For as McCloskey says, "Utilitarianism involves the con
clusion that if it is useful to punish lunatics, mentally
deranged people, innocent people framed as being guilty,
etc., it is obligatory to do so."^5 The only reason the
utilitarian can give for not punishing, say, the insane
; "is, put briefly, — [that] it does no good, or no good
not obtainable at less expense of evil."-^ Notice it is
; implied that if punishing the insane would produce enough
I
good, it would be right to do so. For the utilitarian,
whether or not punishment is deserved has nothing to do
with the rightness of administering it. The only
. J. McCloskey, "A Non-Utilitarian Approach to
Punishment," in Contemporary Utilitarianism, ed. by
Michael D. Bayles, Anchor Books (Garden City, N. Y.:
Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1968), p. 247. It is
McCloskey's opinion (see p. 238) that in their attempts
to Justify punishment, act and rule-utilitarianism are
I equally unsuccessful.
l^sprigge, "A Utilitarian Reply to Dr. McCloskey,"
P. 291.
I
1
I
109
i
j relevant consideration Is its usefulness.17 To most
persons this sounds incredible. j
19. The utilitarian may say that to justify j
I
! punishment on the grounds of its utility alone does not
lead to punishing the innocent and the insane, for in the
! J
i world we live in punishment of this sort has not been 1
| found useful. Now it is true that this sort of punishment
has not usually been useful, but one can surely imagine
instances where it might have been. In any case, as
McCloskey points out, "whether or not unjust punishments
are in fact useful, it is logically possible that they
will at some time become useful, in which case utilitari
ans are committed to them."^® But the utilitarian can be
expected to agree that it would be right to punish the
innocent and the insane should that ever become useful.
7"In principle, the utilitarian is committed to
saying that we should not ask 'Is this punishment
i deserved?' The notion of desert does not arise for him.
The only relevant issue is whether the punishment produces
greater good." McCloskey, "A Non-Utilitarian Approach to
Punishment," pp. 247-48. The act-utilitarian cannot
justify punishment on the grounds of its deterrent effect
either. In D. H. Hodgson's words, "acts of punishment
cannot be Justified according to act-utilitarianism solely
; because of their supposed deterrent effect; for people
, will be deterred only if they expect punishment in case
' of breach, they will expect punishment only if it is
! justified, and the punishment is justified only if it
! deters." Consequences of Utilitarianism (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1987)> p. 49.
■^"A Non-Utilitarian Approach to Punishment,"
f P. 247.
I ...~ “ ’ ........ no]
I i
I After all, he may ask, what better reason for punishing i
i I
anyone is available? To punish on grounds other than
i
! utility is to break the rule "Wherever possible, prevent
pointless suffering."1^ Does anyone think he can Justify
suffering that is without point, suffering that is !
! utterly useless? i
| 20. This utilitarian argument has considerable
merit, for pointless suffering is hard to Justify. One
may ask of the utilitarian, however, whether suffering
that is useless but deserved is really pointless. But
even if it is agreed that it is, the utilitarian is still
in difficulty, for if the matter of desert is irrelevant
when Justifying punishment, then the useless suffering
of an innocent man is no worse than the useless suffering
| of a guilty one. The utilitarian Sprigge frankly admits
this.2® "The utilitarian," he writes, "cannot consistently
say that one is worse in itself if the degree of suffering
is the same."2- 1 - But Sprigge thinks an innocent man is
likely to suffer more than a guilty one if both are given
the same punishment. "An innocent man is liable to suffer
: more shock at being thus punished. He will suffer from
j 19sprigge, "A Utilitarian Reply to Dr. McCloskey,"
! P. 298.
i 2®Sprigge is a hedonistic act-utilitarian.
; 2^mA Utilitarian Reply to Dr. McCloskey," p. 281.
I an indignant fury as the guilty man will not."22 Also
!
it must not be forgotten that "the punishment will come
|on him as more of a surprise, and thus be something he
is less able to cope with psychologically (accept) or even
practically. The distress caused to his relatives will
[also probably be greater.1 ’2^
I 21. This is an astonishing argument. The reason
the useless punishment of an innocent man is worse than
that of a guilty one is that the innocent man is "more
shocked,” "more surprised," filled with "indignant fury,"
less well able to cope with the situation psychologically,
and apt to cause his relatives more distress. None of
these reasons are acceptable. Consider the consequences
of their acceptance. It follows from these reasons that
the punishment (or suffering) of the guilty man is worse
I
(i.e. less desirable and less justified) than that of the
innocent man if he is able to express more indignant fury
at being apprehended, if he is more surprised and less
well able to adjust to his imprisonment, if he has a con
cerned family while the innocent man has none. Surely it
is possible that the guilty man has a concerned family,
that he never expected to be found out, that he is psycho
logically unstable, and that he is given to bursts of
j 22Ibid.
! 23lbld., p. 282.
indignant fury. Surely it is also possible that the
innocent man is something of a Stoic. Were these condi-
| tions to obtain, Sprigge would have to say that the
punishment or suffering of the innocent man is clearly
better than that of the guilty man.
22. The element of desert must be included in
| any successful attempt to Justify the infliction of
punishment. McCloskey is surely right when he says,
It is not enough to say that good results were
achieved by punishing him. It is logically possible
to say that the punishment was useful but undeserved,
and deserved but not useful. It is not possible to ^
say that the punishment was Ju3t though undeserved.2^
Perhaps punishment, to be fully Justified, must do some
good as well, but--more importantly--it must also be
deserved, appropriate to the crime, and not excessive.
That punishment is deserved tends to make it right.
Perhaps we can say it is a right-making consideration.
But from this admission it does not follow that it is
always right to punish whoever deserves it. If it is
known that punishment will do no good, it may well be
our duty to refrain from it. I am not saying, then, that
usefulness is not a relevant consideration in Justifying
the infliction of punishment. What I am saying is that
i usefulness is not the only, or even the most important,
: consideration, and that to build an ethical theory on
"A Non-Utilitarian Approach to Punishment,"
| p. 242.
j utility alone Is to have a theory which sanctions punish- (
i I
ments which are unacceptable to our moral consciousness.25 |
I
| 23. Another dlfficulty--and the last to be dealt
with In this chapter--is that act-utilitarianism seems
I
unable to Justify a fair or equitable distribution of
| goods.26 According to the act-utilitarian, an act is I
!
I right if, and only if, its performance will bring into
i
existence the greatest amount of goodness. But the great
est amount of goodness might be achieved in either of two
ways: (l) through a comparatively wide distribution with
only a small amount going to each individual or (2)
through a narrow distribution with a large amount going
to each individual. Provided the total quantity of good
i
is the same, the act-utilitarian cannot say which of the
1 two distributions is the better, and his decision between
1
' them will be arbitrary. It must not be supposed that we
are never confronted with decisions of this sort. That
we often enough are is argued by Marcus Singer:
25concurring in the opinion that a credible ethical
theory cannot be erected on the utility principle alone is
Joel Peinberg. Peinberg argues that some acts we are
i convinced are wrong cannot be condemned on utilitarian
: grounds, but that these acts do stand condemned by the
principle of Justice, which is independent of, and irreduc-
! ible to, the utility principle. See his essay "The Forms
J and Limits of Utilitarianism," Philosophical Review, LXXVI
| (July, 1967)> 368-81.
^That the act-utilitarianism of J. J. C. Smart
: fails in this respect is argued by Charles Landesman. See
! his article "A Note on Act Utilitarianism," Philosophical
j Review, LXXIII (April, 1964), 243-47.
n4 !
It may be thought that the difficulties Just |
noted are purely academic, of the sort that could j
never arise in practice. This is not true. . . . Such ;
a difficulty could arise in any situation in which one i
would have to choose between doing something that |
would benefit a very large number of people each to a
very small extent, and doing something that would
benefit a relatively small number of people each to a i
very large extent; and such difficulties are almost j
always present, though they may not always be recog- j
nized, in considering any proposed piece of legls- 1
lation. ' i
If the utility principle is unable to provide grounds for
a decision between these two competing criteria, it may
well be doubted whether it is a fit candidate for the
fundamental principle of morality. For how goods are to
be distributed is certainly an ethical question, an
ethical question to which the utility principle Is unable
to provide an answer.
24. Does this mean the deontologists have the
better case after all? Some moralists have not thought
so. While agreeing that the act-utilitarianism of, say,
a G. E. Moore is not acceptable,2® they believe a form
^ Generalization in Ethics (New York: Alfred
A. Knopf, Inc., 1961), p. 199* It must not be overlooked,
however, that the collecting of goods for distribution is
seldom morally neutral. It is perfectly proper to ask,
I By what right does anyone distribute goods if those goods
have been, in effect, expropriated? A piece of legisla-
' tion that benefits large numbers of people is not neces-
| sarily a good piece of legislation, a piece of legislation
; that Is above reproach. If those benefits are the result
of an inequitable tax system, the benefits passed around
1 are stolen ones.
2®That G. E. Moore was an act-utilitarian there
can be little doubt: "It must," he writes, "always be
the duty of every agent to do that one, among all the
115
j of rule-utilitarianism is.29 Generally speaking, the
rule-utilitarian holds that what must be decided in the
; light of its consequences is not particular acts but types |
or classes of acts. Or to put it another way, the rule-
utilitarian believes every act is an instance of a type j
1 ■ i
, of action and therefore falls under a rule, and that it i
! is the rule only that is to be tested by its utility.
| In short, particular acts are justified by rules and rules
by their consequences. This enables the rule utilitarian
to say that it is right to keep a promise in a particular
case even though the consequences of doing so will be bad.
Whether the utilitarian theory of obligation can stand
: in this form we are about to investigate.
!
25. We began this chapter by discussing the
! defense of the act-utilitarian against the deontologist's
I
1
objection that right or obligatory acts are not always
and only those which have, or are believed to have, the
actions which he can do on any given occasion, whose
total consequences will have the greatest intrinsic
value." Ethics (London; Oxford University Press, 1952),
p. 143. See also his Prlnclpla Ethlca, p. 147. Nonethe
less, as Smart points out, Moore thought we should not
, be act-utilitarians in practice. That is, in deciding
' particular acts we are most likely to act as act-
: utilitarians ought to act if we do not try to apply the
j utility principle to each particular act. J. J. C. Smart,
j "Extreme Utilitarianism: A Reply to M. A. Kaplan,"
! Ethics, LXXI (January, 1961), 133-34.
; ^ Rule-utilitarianism is sometimes called re-
; strlcted or indirect utilitarianism, just as act-utlll-
| tarlanlsm is sometimes called direct or unrestricted
utilitarianism.
116
j best consequences. The favorite tactic of the act-
utilitarian is to save his theory by marshalling conse-
i
I
! quences which the deontologist conveniently overlooks in j
I
| making his case. The procedure the deontologist must
!
follow is to frame his examples in such a way that the |
I I
i further addition of consequences is impossible. In the 1
I examples in Part I we tried to do precisely this, and we
1 think we have been successful.
In Part II we considered two other difficulties
which indicate act-utilitarianism is unacceptable as an
ethical theory, (l) Insofar as act-utilitarianism ignores
the element of desert, it justifies punishing the innocent
as well as the guilty. (2) It is also unable to provide
grounds for any moral decision between a greater or lesser
distribution of a given quantity of goodness.
i
We conclude that act-utilitarianism is not easy
to reconcile with at least some of our moral judgments and
procedures. Or to put it another way, if the act-
utilitarian claims to provide the principle by which
most men actually justify all their moral beliefs and
decisions, we believe he is profoundly mistaken. If,
however, he intends his principle as a prescription rather
! than a description, we think our arguments still carry
■ force, but not as much. In other words, if the act-
; utilitarian is simply recommending that we decide each
j and every act solely on the basis of its actual or
117
probable or expected results, we still disagree, but we
have less confidence in our arguments as grounds for this
sort of disagreement.
118
CHAPTER V
THE TELEOLOGICAL BASIS OP MORAL OBLIGATION:
! RULE-UTILITARIANISM
i
i 1. Over the past four chapters we have been
occupied with two fundamental questions in normative
ethics: (l) What things are intrinsically good, and (2)
What acts are right? or What ought one to do? The first
question pertains to theories of value, the second to
theories of obligation. With respect to these two ques
tions, let us summarize our conclusions thus far:-1 -
(1) Egoism is not a satisfactory theory of obligation.
(2) We agree with the ideal utilitarian theory of value,
according to which more than one thing possesses intrinsic
value. (3) We do not accept as adequate the act-utili
tarian theory of obligation. There are two more teleo-
logical theories to discuss: rule-utilitarianism and
Blanshard's type of utilitarianism. In this chapter the
first of these will be considered; the second Is the
j subject of the two chapters following.
i _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
^hese conclusions Blanshard could also accept.
119
| The question, then, Is this: Is rule-utilitarian-
ism a satisfactory teleological theory of obligation?
Before we can evaluate rule-utilitarianism, however, we !
must see precisely how It differs from act-utilitarlanism.
i
To distinguish between these two types of utilitarianism
I as clearly as we are able will be our concern in the first !
• part of this chapter.
I
p
2. Let us begin with an example. Suppose a
student in the middle of his senior year comes to me with
the request that I change the grade I have given him in
my course. These, I find, are the circumstances: The
fellow wants to become a doctor. He has been "provi
sionally" accepted by a medical school, but he must, in
i
! order to be assured entrance, bring his grade-point-
average (GPA) up to a certain level. Failing to do so,
I he will either be turned down or admitted with probation
ary status.
Unfortunately, this young man's GPA is Just under
the acceptable level. But if I were to raise his final
: grade from the B+- I gave him to an A-, his GPA would meet
| the requirements.
j ________ _
I
2This is Hospers1 example with some additions.
; See his Human Conduct, pp. 311-12.
120
I Inquire of the student why his GPA Is not higher,
and he tells me the following story: He came to college
from a second-rate high school, and he had a difficult
time during his first semester adjusting to college work.
Consequently, his grades during that semester left much
to be desired. His second semester he did much better.
During his sophomore year he became seriously ill. He
was in the hospital for two weeks and experienced a
rather slow recovery. During that semester his grades
j again took a beating. Moreover, I discover this student
I
j has rather broad interests. Because of this, he has taken
!
j his elective courses in areas where he is less competent.
i
That is, whereas he could have taken additional courses
in the sciences, where he has no trouble getting A's, he
chose instead to broaden himself and to take courses in
literature and philosophy and law. This also hurt his GPA.
I know this student worked very hard in my class,
harder than some who received A’s. But he does have
trouble thinking philosophically. I realize too that not
j all teachers grade the same way. Had he taken the course
from my colleague instead of from me, he would almost
certainly have received an A, for my colleague grades
easier than I do. He also puts greater stress on attitude
and improvement.
I reflect on these matters and I ask myself if
this young man would make a poorer doctor for having gotten
! “ ' ' " 121 ]
i
| a B+ in philosophy rather than an A in professor X’s
l
course In vector analysis or professor Y's course in hlgh-
j energy physics. I conclude that that Is unlikely. j
Neither do I think he would make a better doctor had he
earned an A- In my course. Why, then, should his entrance
! Into medical school depend on whether I give him a B+ or
! an A-? This seems quite unfair and more than a little I
artificial.
From all I know about this student, I judge that
he is honest, competent, serious, and diligent; he also
has a desire to help people. I believe he has the
potential to become a fine doctor.
What shall I do? I tell the young man I shall
have to have time to look over his exams and papers to
make sure I graded them fairly. I explain to him that
sometimes a second careful reading will indicate a portion
of an examination was initially graded too harshly, the
result perhaps of fatigue or an interruption. I also
remind him a second reading may indicate to me that I did
not grade an exam harshly enough. I point out that some
times clerical errors are made in tabulating test results
and that I shall have to check this possibility as well.
I
| I ask the student to please come back in a day or two.
I proceed to check out this student's story.
' Everything seems to be exactly as he said. His grades
! were lower his first semester, and he was sick his
I _____________________________________________________________________
| 122 !
i sophomore year. In his major field of study his grades
i
I
are very fine. In his pre-med courses he has an A average.
I proceed to go over his test scores and find they have j
been accurately recorded and tabulated. After re-reading
his work, I am convinced the B+ I gave him is an accurate
j !
| indication of his level of performance in my class. 1
i But the question is still with me: Should I raise
his grade? If I do, he will enter medical school with no
difficulty and will likely become a fine doctor. Those
are certainly good consequences. Will my raising his
grade have any bad consequences? Perhaps my raising his
grade will lead him to depend more on others to help him
out of difficult spots, and such confidence may well make
him less industrious or self-reliant in his future studies
; and possibly less meticulous in treating his future
i
patients. Perhaps, too, he would spread the word that I
raised his grade for other than academic reasons, and that
would discredit me, the department, and the college too.
It would also undermine the grading system, a system which,
on the whole, serves a very useful purpose.
But I know I can fix it so that these consequences
will not occur. I can simply inform the student (and
| anyone else who might inquire) that I found a clerical
error while going through his work and that he really did
: deserve a grade higher than the B+ I originally gave him.
j He will have no reason to suspect otherwise.
123 |
l
But how about Its effects on me and my character? j
|
If I give him a grade higher than I think he deserves,
j won't I be compromising my standards, won't I be lying to !
i |
him and to the registrar about my reason for changing the !
grade? Might this not make it easier to lie and compro-
i mise my principles again, which is almost certain to have
| i
| bad consequences? It may, moreover, lie heavy on my
1 conscience. And though it is nearly certain that more
good can be achieved by raising his grade if secrecy can
be maintained, can I be absolutely confident that no one J
will ever find out? I might doze off in a faculty meeting,
arise abruptly and announce to those assembled that I
changed a grade and lied to the student and registrar.
Even though I was not fully awake when I said it, the
seeds of doubt would be sown and the consequences could
i
not be anything but bad.
I know, however, that my character can be damaged
and my conscience can bother me only if I think I am
doing something wrong. If I conclude that in this case
it is right, that is productive of the greatest good, to
i change his grade, then I do not see how doing so could
impugn my character or weigh heavily on my conscience.
I That I should reveal what I have done while in a drunken
stupor or while dozing in a faculty meeting is very
I
I improbable, for I do not drink, nor do I sleep during
| faculty meetings.
| ' 124
I
j But if I still worry about my character, my habits,
my conscience, and the possibility that I might unwittingly
! leak this information, I can put an end to it. For I have,
I
let us say, in my office desk a "utilitarian pill," the
' only effect of which is to make me forget raising a
j
I student’s grade for purely utilitarian reasons. Once
i
j again, if the objection is raised that I might still
1 remember having taken a pill to forget something I did
and that this might have bad consequences, we may suppose
this pill does two things: (l) it makes me forget raising
a grade, and (2) it also makes me forget that I took a
pill to forget something. If such a pill were available,
; would it not be my utilitarian duty to change the stu
dent’s grade, lie to him and to the registrar about the
j reason for it, and then swallow the pill?
i
I believe there are only six types of response
open to the utilitarian when confronted with an example
such as this, (l) He can abandon his utilitarianism in
favor of a deontological theory. This, however, is to
1 admit defeat. (2) He can try to offer additional conse-
i quences in order to make the requirements of his theory
agree with our moral intuitions. But we have given
reasons for thinking this line of defense closed. (3)
i
I He can say ours are fanciful examples and that these can-
I
not be taken seriously. We have argued, on the other
| hand, that ethical theory is a priori and must hold for
all logically possible worlds. (4) He can embrace what
seem to be the Inevitable conclusions and suggest that In
such cases our ordinary moral convictions are mistaken and
I
therefore cannot be used as evidence against his theory.
' But the utilitarian theory conflicts too often with deeply
| held moral feelings to permit this escape. (5) He can
j take these examples as providing decisive refutation of
1
1 extreme utilitarianism and adopt a modified form of
utilitarianism. (6) He can accept Blanshard's form of
utilitarianism.
3* To go back to our example, It is very hard
for the extreme (act) utilitarian to conclude other than
that my duty Is to change the student's grade according
to the procedure described. But the rule-utilitarian does
| not have to draw this conclusion. Individual acts, he may
claim, are to be decided on the basis of rules alone.
That is to say, individual acts are instances of a type
of act, and each type falls under a rule. A particular
act is to be Justified on the basis of whether it conforms
to the rule which governs the class of acts to which it
belongs. In other words, particular acts are Justified
by rules, and only rules are Justified by the beneficial
| consequences attending their observance.
4. The rule-utilitarian is therefore able to say,
as the act-utilitarian is not, that though the consequences
j of raising this particular student's grade may be better
j than the consequences of not doing so, I still ought not
to raise it.3 For there is a generally useful rule to the
effect that teachers should not change students' grades
I except for special reasons which the rule itself defines.
Exceptions built into this rule would include changing a
j
i grade when clerical errors are detected or when mistakes
| are made in recording a grade.^ The rule does not permit
exceptions for strictly utilitarian reasons.
5. We may say, then, that for the rule-utilitarjan !
I
there is one characteristic which belongs to all right or
obligatory acts: all are members of a class of acts the
performance of which is generally useful. The one distin-
: guishing feature of all wrong acts is that they do not
3j0hnathon Harrison draws the distinction between
the two kinds of utilitarianism this way: "It may very
| well be true of an action, both that there is no other
action within the power of the agent that would produce
better consequences than it, and that it is an instance
of a class of actions which would produce harmful conse
quences if chey were to be generally performed. In this
case, I should, according to utilitarianism as it is
normally thought of, be acting rightly if I performed it;
whereas, according to this modified form of utilitarianism,
I should be acting wrongly." "Utilitarianism, Univer
salization, and Our Duty To Be Just," in Contemporary
Utilitarianism, ed. by Michael D. Bayles, Anchor Books
i (Garden City, N. Y.: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1968),
I P. 35-
I ^Strictly speaking, an exception built into the
1 rule Is not really an exception. In making an "exception"
I which the mile itself defines, one is in fact following
the rule, not making an exception to it. See John Rawls,
. "Two Concepts of Rules," Philosophical Review, LXIV, No. 1
j (1955)> 17. See also Hospers' Human ConductT p. 323.
! 127 !
| belong to a class of acts the performance of which is j
! i
generally useful. In appraising the rightness or wrong- !
j ness of particular acts, consequences are simply irrelevant!
and should be disregarded with two exceptions: One
exception is when the act in question is a member of no i
i :
: class governed by a rule. The other exception is when
j the act belongs to a class of acts the performance of j
i which has generally useful consequences and also to
another class of acts the non-performance of which has
equally good consequences.5 Should a choice arise where
one must choose between two (or more) optimific rules,
one must decide which rule to follow by comparing the
Immediate and remote consequences of the act if it is
performed and if it is not performed. In situations such
| as these, the act must be brought directly to the test of
i
utility. But, again, this does not constitute a real
exception to a general rule, for the rule can be stated
to provide for its suspension in these cases. The rule,
for example, can be phrased this way: Always follow rule
A unless doing so involves the violation of rules X or Y
^J. J. C. Smart, who is not himself a rule-utili
tarian, describes these two exceptions as follows: ’ ’The
j only cases in which we must test an individual action
I directly by its consequences are (a) when the action comes
! under two different rules, one of which enjoins it and one
i of which forbids it, and (b) when there is no rule what-
; ever that governs the given case.1 1 "Extreme and Restricted
j Utilitarianism," in Theories of Ethics, ed. by Philippa
! Foot (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1967), p. 172.
i 128 ;
| i
j or Z, the general observance of which has at least as j
I !
I
good consequences as the observance of A. If the practice j
j 1
: sanctioned by rule A has consequences just as good as
(but not better than) the practice enjoined by rules X
or Y or Z, then it is our duty to decide between them on j
! the merits of their consequences in this particular case.
' If so far as one can tell, following rule A in this case
will have the same consequences as following rule X, then
following either of these rules would not be wrong. What
if the general observance of rule A has better consequences
than that of rule X? In that case, one should of course
follow rule A.
Before undertaking a critical analysis of rule-
utilitarianism, we should state briefly the reasons rule-
utilitarianism is thought to be superior to act-
i
utilitarianism.
6. (l) Firstly, it may be argued that rule-
utilitarianlsm is more defensible than act-utilitarianism
because it more closely approximates the manner in which
fi
we decide which acts are right and which acts are wrong.
^P. H. Nowell-Smith makes this point in his Ethics,
Pelican Books (Baltimore: Penguin Books, Inc., 195^77
! p. 239. That rule-utilitarianism comes closer to matching
! traditional morality is also the view of David Braybrooke.
i But he also points out what is surely true, that the rules
which rule-utilitarianism Justifies are not necessarily
the traditional ones. See his article "The Choice Between
: Utilitarianisms," American Philosophical Quarterly, IV
| (January, 1967)* 287
i When asked why we think we ought to keep a promise, the
I
answer doesn't leap to our lips "Because the consequences
; of keeping this promise are better than those of not
I
keeping it." We do not, as a matter of fact, sit down to
| calculate the consequences whenever we decide whether a
I promise should be kept or a debt paid. Ordinarily the
l
! making of a promise or the incurring of a debt is thought
: to be sufficient grounds for keeping the one and repaying
the other. Rule-utilitarianism recognizes this fact.
7. (2) Secondly, act-utilitarianism, in
Brandt's words,
has implications which it is difficult to accept. It
implies that if you have employed a boy to mow your
lawn and he has finished the Job and asks for his pay,
you should pay him what you have promised only if you
cannot find a better use for your money. It Implies
that when you bring home your monthly paycheck you
should use it to support your family and yourself only
| if it cannot be used more effectively to supply the
needs of others.'
Rule-utilitarianism, on the other hand, has no such impli
cations, for on this theory only rules or classes of acts
are brought to the test of utility. Particular acts are
Judged to be right or wrong as they conform or do not
i conform to generally useful rules.
8. (3) Thirdly, it can be argued that act-
I utilitarianism, unlike rule-utilitarianism, Is
j "^Richard B. Brandt, "Toward a Credible Form of
Utilitarianism," in Contemporary Utilitarianism, ed. by
j Michael D. Bayles, Anchor Books (Garden City, N. Y.:
| Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1968), pp. 146-47.
j self-defeating. If every man were to break his promises,
if every Judge were to hang innocent men, if every teacher
iwere to change a student's grade whenever the consequences
i of doing so would be better than the consequences of not
doing so, then very bad consequences would result. Public
' i
' confidence would be seriously weakened, Justice under law !
! would be impaired, and diplomas would mean nothing. In
short, if everyone were to decide every act solely on the
basis of its utility, the result would be Just what the
acceptance of the utility principle was supposed to avoid.®
9« (*0 Fourthly, and as a corollary to (3)> the
act-utilitarian cannot wish or recommend the principle
upon which he acts to be adopted by others. "The indivi
dual," as Mr. Kaplan has said, "can live in a desirable
j society only if some rules are regarded by all as moral
!
imperatives."9 Universalization of the act-utilitarian
principle would tend, in Kaplan's words, "to turn society
i
®Johnathon Harrison states it this way: "If
everybody were to act upon the unmodified [act] utilitarian
principle, everybody would fail to apply rules of Justice
to certain hard cases, and bad consequences would result.
But the purpose of the people who applied the unmodified
principle would be to produce good consequences, and so
the general application of the rule they were practicing
would defeat the ends which determined them to adopt it."
"Utilitarianism, Universalization, and Our Duty To Be
| Just," p. 55. See also D. H. Hodgson's Consequences of
I Utilitarianism, chap. ii, where a strong case is made for
i the disutility of act-utilitarianlsm.
^Morton A. Kaplan, "Some Problems of the Extreme
| Utilitarian Position, Ethics, LXX (April, i960), 231.
| into a Hobbesian war of all against all."10 If everyone
were to accept the act-utilitarian principle, that is to
apply it and act upon it, utility would not be maximized.
Since the point of act-utilitarianism is to maximize
utility, and since widespread acceptance of the principle
i
, would not promote that end, the act-utilitarian cannot,
1 without defeating his objectives, publicize his principle
or urge its adoption.
If a necessary condition for an adequate moral
principle is its universalizability, if nno principle is
fit to be a moral principle unless it is fit that it
should be universally adopted and universally applied,"!!
then act-utilitarianism must be rejected. Rule-
utilitarianism, on the other hand, meets this requirement.
I
11
10. Rule-utilitarianism, though perhaps more
i credible than act-utilitarianism, is not without its dif
ficulties, some of which are more serious than others.
Before offering our analyses of them, it will be useful
!0lbld., p. 230. Taking exception to this is J. J.
C. Smart. Smart thinks good consequences would result if
everyone were encouraged to adopt act-utilitarianism.
j See his "Extreme and Restricted Utilitarianism,” p. 176.
! I do not find Smart's argument convincing, but I also
think Kaplan's prediction of a Hobbesian state of nature
Is putting the case too strongly.
I ^Harrison, "Utilitarianism, Universalization, and
Our Duty To Be Just," p. 57.
1
I ~ 132 "
to have the objections set out In the order that we shall j
j
consider them: (l) that rule-utilitarianism requires as j
j many rules as possible acts and therefore requires us to \
i I
i , K
act just as act-utilitarians; (2) that rule-utilitarianism |
! !
! makes some acts wrong that we think are morally permis-
I :
; sible; (3) that rule-utilitarianism is irrational; (4) !
I that rule-utilitarianism is self-defeating; (5) that rule- j
! utilitarianism makes some acts right we normally think
are wrong.
11. (l) It may be said--and rightly so--that no
act is a member of one and only one class of acts, that
in fact every act is an instance of several types of acts.
So the rule-utilitarian faces the initial problem of
specifying Just which class it is in virtue of which an
i act is right or wrong. This may be far from easy.
[
1 Consider, for example, the question, Is It right to lie
to a stranger who ask3 where one's wife is? To which
class does this act belong? How specific is the rule to
which we ought to appeal? These are Just a few of the
many possible rules:
(a) Never lie to anyone.
(b) Never lie to anyone except strangers.
I
! (c) Never lie to anyone except suspicious-looking
strangers.
: (d) Never lie to anyone except suspicious-looking
| strangers who have bulges in their pockets.
j (e) Never lie to anyone except bald-headed, suspicious-
looking strangers with bulges in their pockets who
j ask the whereabouts of brown-haired, blue-eyed
wives.
(f) Never lie to anyone except 6 foot 2 inch, 200
i
i pound, bald-headed, blue-eyed, suspicious-looking
strangers with warts on their foreheads and bulges
|
in their pockets who late in the evening ask the
whereabouts of 5 foot 3 inch, 110 pound, brown
haired, blue-eyed wives.
Naturally if we were to continue to build more and more
exceptions into our rule, thereby making the class of acts
: to which the rule applies smaller and smaller, we would
end with a rule so specific that it would cover a class
| which has only one act for a member. But if each act
belongs to a separate class, the performance of which is
to be Justified by its utility, we are back to the position
which requires us to decide each act on its own merits.
We are driven to the conclusion that rule-utilitarianism
requires the same behavior as act-utilitarianism.
i 12. The criticism that the person who tries to
offer a sound account of moral rules in terms of the end
I which they serve (viz. that of maximizing goodness) will
end with as many rules as there are acts is not, I
| believe, a serious one. For this objection rests on the
fallacious assumption that the more exceptions that are
! ~ .....................................................................................’ 13^ ’
1
i
i built into a moral rule the more optimific it becomes.
1 1
1
In point of fact, one cannot make a moral rule more opti- j
mlfic by qualifying it beyond a certain p o i n t . 1
13. It is true, of course, that a single act may |
belong to several classes and that it may be difficult to j
, 1
say which rule it is to which we ought to appeal in decid- 1
i ing its rightness or wrongness. But there is no reason
i
to draw from this the conclusion that we must end with
unit classes, that is with every act as a class unto itself
with a rule to match. While every act may be different
from every other, acts need not differ in morally relevant
respects. This means it is not necessary to keep intro
ducing subclasses (or qualifications into our rules)
beyond a certain point in order to have rules that maxi-
; mize goodness. Admittedly, it may be very difficult to
pinpoint the exact place where acts no longer differ in
morally relevant respects, but this only shows how complex
moral experience is. But even here there is some agree
ment. Almost everyone would agree that the class of acts
where lies are told is too broad, that it should be made
; more specific, that the rule "Never tell lies" needs some
exceptions built into it. Similarly, almost everyone
I
! agrees that the class of acts where lies are told to only
6 foot 2 inch, 200 pound, bald-headed, blue-eyed,
12Cf. John Hospers1 remarks in Human Conduct,
j pp. 320-22.
1 _____________________________________________________________________
r ~ 1 3 5 ]
I !
I suspicious-looking strangers with warts on their foreheads j
I I
and bulges in their pockets is too specific. A rule with
i
■ that many qualifications is no better than one with fewer. !
i !
i To make classes and rules too specific, then, serves no |
!
useful purpose. It merely and needlessly complicates j
! things. 1
14. This does not mean, however, that the objec-
' tion that rule and act-utilitarianism require identical
moral decisions is refuted. The point we are making is
that this particular argument which purports to establish
that conclusion rests on a fallacious assumption. For it
is not true that the most optimific set of rules is a set
of rules as numerous as possible acts. If this assumption
were true, then obviously rule and act-utilitarianism
j would have the same practical Implications. But even if
this assumption is false, as we believe it is, that act
and rule-utilitarianism are extenslonally equivalent might
be established on other grounds.
15. (2) The second objection can be disposed of
more quickly. According to it, rule-utilitarianism makes
some acts wrong which are not normally thought to be so.
Most people, to take one example, do not consider it
I
Smorally wrong to fight in their nation's wars. But, the
argument goes, if everyone followed the rule "Never parti-
: cipate in wars," wars and all the evil they cause would
| cease. Is not this rule Justified by the good effects
j attending everyone's observing it? And if so, should not
every rule-utilitarian be a pacifist?
i
16. This is not a strong criticism. As Harrison !
points out,
participation in wars is a class of actions which can i
; be made relevantly more specific .... It contains
1 subclasses, 3uch as participation in wars on behalf of '
an aggressor, participation in wars on behalf of a
country which is resisting aggression, participation in
wars as a mercenary . . . participation in religious
wars.^3
This objection presupposes that participation in wars is
a class of actions which cannot be made relevantly more
specific and that the most optimific rule is the very
broad one "Never participate in wars." Obviously this
rule would be the best one provided everyone adopted it.
But it is safe to say that not everyone will adopt it;
' and if only a few nations or individuals follow this
Ideally fellcific rule, it can be expected to have very
bad consequences.
The point is this: the rule-utilitarian wants to
formulate and follow rules that will have the best results
in this world. And our knowledge of what others will do
; must be taken into account if we are to arrive at the best
rules available in the context of the very imperfect world
! in which we live. In view of this, it may well be that in
the example before us the best moral rule would be one
I ___________________ _____
^"Utilitarianism, universalization, and Our
! Duty To Be Just," p. 39-
j that enjoins restraint from fighting in all wars except
those, say, where another nation is clearly the aggressor.
|If this is the best moral rule, rule-utilitarianism
i
:involves no commitment to pacifism. Or to put the matter
another way, if the utilitarian formulates his rules in
I
l
(defiance of the prevailing rules, practices, beliefs, and
i
j institutions, he may end with a set of ideally utilitarian
:rules, but they will be self-defeating if the existing
|practices insure that bad consequences will attend their
adoption. To criticize the rule-utilitarian for failing
to adopt such a set of rules anyway is hardly fair
criticism.
17. (3) The rule-utilitarian thinks that the
consequences of an act are not relevant in determining
; its rightness or wrongness and that the only legitimate
!
appeal is to rules. But this, Smart believes,
is monstrous as an account of how it is most rational
to think about morality. Suppose that there is a rule
R and that in 99$ of cases the best possible results
are obtained by acting in accordance with R. Then
clearly R is a useful rule of thumb; if we have not
time or are not impartial enough to assess the conse
quences of an action, it is an extremely good bet that
! the thing to do is to act in accordance with R. But
j is it not monstrous to suppose that if we have worked
out the consequences and if we have perfect faith in
our calculations, and if we know that in this instance
j to break R will have better results than to keep it,
I we should nevertheless obey the rule?1^
^"Extreme and Restricted Utilitarianism,” p. 176.
138 j
To follow a generally useful moral rule when we know that,
all things considered, to follow It In a particular
Instance will produce more bad than good Is "a form of
superstitious rule-worship."-^ it is, in effect, to
act irrationally.
Echoing Smart's sentiments, Sprigge writes:
i
If a rule is good precisely because action in accord
ance with it usually advances the general good, and
this is the only reason, it is very odd to think that
any value should be attached to action according to
the rule in those exceptional cases where it hinders
rather than advances the general good.1®
The oddity or absurdity involved is illustrated this way
by Mabbott:
As a parallel let us take the rule, sometimes given to
beginners at whist or bridge: "Third player plays
high." Thus, suppose I hold the King of spades and
the first two players have played low spade cards
I should play my King. (One reason being that if the
whereabouts of the Ace are unknown the odds are two to
one against the fourth player holding it.) But now
suppose the first player plays the two of spades and
the second player the Ace. What should I do? What
would we think of my bridge tutor if he said: You
should play your King because the general rule is a
good rule--third player plays high.1'
Smart concludes from considerations such as these
that in every case if there is a rule R the keeping of
which is generally optimific, but such that in a
1^Ibid., pp. 176-77.
; 1^"A Utilitarian Reply to Dr. McCloskey," pp. 292-
93. Sprigge, like Smart, defends act-utilitarianism and
thinks rule-utilitarianism absurd.
1^J. D. Mabbott, An Introduction to Ethics
I (Garden City, N. Y.: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1969)>
I p. 28.
special sort of circumstances the optimific behavior
is to break R, then in these circumstances we should
break R.ltJ
That is to say, if a person knows he can break a generally
useful moral rule, say that of "Always keep your promises,"
without injuring his own character or reputation and with
out undermining the general practice, and that by doing so
! he can produce more good than by not doing so, then it
would be irrational for him to keep his promise out of
respect for the rule.
18. Smart's argument carries considerable force.
The rule-utilitarian can reply, however, that he does not
have to defend the view which Smart criticizes. For he
can build exceptions into his rules. Take, for example,
the rule "Always keep your promises." This mile can be
made more specific (and more optimific too) by reformulat
ing it this way: "Always keep your promises except when
you are sure that by breaking them you will not undermine
public trust in the practice and that, on balance, far
more good will be produced by breaking it than by keeping
it." The only problem with this line of defense against
Smart's charge of irrationality is that the rule-
utilitarian now finds himself defending rules which permit
under some circumstances the breaking of desert-island
promises, the changing of students' grades, and the
l8"Extreme and Restricted Utilitarianism," p. 181.
l40~j
1
hanging of innocent men. That is, in order to avoid being
i
' irrational he has modified his rules to the extent that
| they sanction the same questionable acts as the principle !
i
: of the act-utilitarian. But it was to avoid this that the
I
! rule-utilitarian abandoned act-utilitarianism in the first ,
|
| place. In short, It appears that rule-utilitarianism is i
I either Irrational or it collapses into act-utilitarianism.
I
i Whether rule-utilitarianism can avoid this dilemma
depends on the plausibility of a "practice” conception of
rules,19 a conception which disallows the modification of
moral rules beyond specifiable limits. That Is to say,
the difficulty to which we have alluded can be dismissed
only if it can be shown that those moral rules which have
utilitarian Justification cannot be modified beyond a
certain point in order to make them increasingly optimific
i
! without actually abandoning the rules. Whether the prac
tice conception of moral rules can be made out is the
subject of discussion in Part III of this chapter. It
will be argued there that the practice conception of moral
rules, while surely a legitimate conception, does not
I make the utilitarian doctrine more palatable, and that
^This is Rawls' term. Rawls argues that practice
i rules (rules which define a practice) have a different
; status or function than summary rules, that practice rules
i stand in a different logical relation to particular acts
I which violate them than do summary rules to acts which are
I contrary to them. Rawls' argument is examined in detail
in Part III, which follows.
j i4i |
! j
j consequently this objection and the two which follow are j
not effectively met. j
i
19. (4) The fourth objection is that rule- |
jutilitarianism is self-defeating. If the purpose of acting
according to rules is to maximize goodness— and this must
I !
I be so, for rules are themselves Justified by the good
I consequences of their observance--then to follow a rule
; such as "Never knowingly punish the innocent" where,
everything considered, the consequences of doing so will
not maximize goodness, defeats the very end which caused
one to establish the rule. In other words, moral rules
are useful guides, but the rule-utilitarian defeats the
; purpose for having them if he follows them slavishly and
refuses to break them where he knows he will produce less
i
; than the maximum good achievable by keeping them.
1
' 20. Again, the rule-utilitarian can escape this
criticism by modifying his rules to the extent that they
permit exceptions under certain circumstances. But if he
does that, he ends with rules such as "Never knowingly
hang an innocent man unless his innocence will never be
; discovered, he is an incorrigible ne'er-do-well, and his
■ death will significantly enlarge the public good." Such
! a rule may well be the most optimific, but it sanctions
j
i acts we ordinarily think are wrong. In short, the rule-
I utilitarian can either adopt rules which defeat the pur-
! pose for having them or he can accept a more modified set
! 1U2
I
I
! of prescriptions that have utilitarian Justification but
I
are objectionable to the moral consciousness when applied
to certain particular cases.
This is a serious criticism. Whether it is an
1 insurmountable one depends once again on whether a proper
conception of moral rules permits the sort of exceptions
that render them suspect to our moral consciousness. If
it can be established that moral rules are not merely rules
of thumb which allow exceptions, but are rules which define
practices which themselves have utilitarian Justification,
then the criticism that rule-utilitarianism is either self-
defeating or Justifies morally reprehensible acts Is a
product of logical confusion. It can then be said that
this criticism springs from a fundamental misunderstanding
; of the logic of moral rules.
i
We conclude that this objection holds, as does
Smart's and the one we are about to consider, unless the
practice conception of moral rules, which we shall examine
below, can be successfully defended.
21. (5) The fifth objection is that rule-
; utilitarianism makes some acts right which are normally
thought to be wrong. As we have already noted, an occa-
1
| sional act of injustice on the part of a well-meaning
1 Judge need not undermine the whole Judicial process. If
; these breaches can be kept secret, they can be expected
i to have extremely beneficial consequences. In light of
143
this, must not the consistent rule-utilitarian frame his
rules so that they sanction these occasional indiscretions?
The point can be put this way: if the rule-
utllitarlan Justifies his rules on the basis of their
utility, must he not acknowledge that the rule "Never
knowingly hang an Innocent man except when doing so can
be kept secret and will serve the public's Interest" is
a better rule for a Judge to follow than the rule "Never
knowingly hang an innocent man"?20 And if the first jrule
20It may be suggested that no secret rule can
be a moral rule, and that if this rule were not kept
secret, that is if it were known to the public, confidence
in the whole legal system would be undermined. This is
Baler's point. Moral rules, he says, cannot be secret
rules; they must be such that they can be taught openly
i to everyone. "An esoteric code, a set of precepts known
only to the initiated and perhaps Jealously concealed from
| outsiders, can at best be a religion, not a morality. . . ,
j 'Esoteric morality' is a contradiction in terms." The
; Moral Point of View, p. 101. Now most moral rules are
j teachable. In the case of most rules, were they not
; teachable, there would be little point in having them.
But I do not think it is self-contradictory to speak of
i private moral rules or of a set of moral rules known to,
and followed by, a select group. Surely it is possible
for a group of doctors (or a group of lawyers or Judges)
to act in accordance with moral principles that are not
known or broadcast to the general public. Doctors, for
example, may consider it a moral obligation to let a
patient die when he is suffering from a terminal illness,
i when there is little hope of recovery, when every day will
; bring an increase in the level of pain, and when the
patient no longer wants to live. But if public opinion
| is unenlightened and if the law requires doctors to do
! everything in their power to prolong the life of any sick
i person, the doctors may prefer not to publicize this
i practice. Now, are we to be prevented from calling their
i precept a moral one? Do these doctors contradict them-
I selves when they refer to it as part of their moral code?
Must they call their principle a religious principle and
! their practice a religious one? I think not. Now if it
is more optimific than the second, is not the rule-
utilitarian in the same predicament as the act-utilitarian,
having to admit the occasional or at least possible duty
of a judge to knowingly and deliberately hang an innocent
man? To be consistent with his theory, must he not also
concede that sometimes it is (or can be) one's duty to
change a student's grade or desert one's spouse?
Ill
22. Whether the last three criticisms can be
dismissed depends, we have suggested, on whether moral
rules can be construed as defining a practice. It is to
this we now turn.
23. In a widely read article entitled "Two Con
cepts of Rules," Rawls argues that there are two concep
tions of rules, the summary conception and the practice
conception. Rules of the first sort "are pictured as
summaries of past decisions arrived at by the direct
application of the utilitarian principle to particular
is logically possible for them to act upon particular
moral rules that are not known or taught openly to the
public, there is surely no utilitarian reason why they
should not do so. It may be that in some circumstances
the general welfare is most advanced when doctors (or
lawyers or Judges) quietly follow rules that would not
be accepted by the general public were the public made
aware of them.
cases."2^ According to this conception, the rule "Don't
break promises" is arrived at in the following way: On j
: the basis of experience it is known that most cases of !
broken promises have bad consequences. Hence the general
rule prohibiting promise-breaking is Justified by its j
j utility. The rule which enjoins punishing the innocent is i
J
I established in the same way.
2k. Now with this conception one can always
legitimately raise the question whether to observe the
rule in a particular instance will in fact have the
usually good consequences. And if one knows that it will
not, then as Smart points out, to follow the rule anyway
would be absurd or irrational. It would also be self-
defeating. To avoid this, the rule-utilitarian finds it
necessary to build exceptions into his rule. Accordingly,
he frames his rules so that the act which is known to
have the best consequences falls under a rule which is
at once more optimific and more specific. But having done
that, he is open to the charge that his rules make oblig
atory the same questionable acts (e.g. breaking promises
; and punishing innocent men) as act-utilitarianism. As
i
long as moral rules are conceived as merely useful rules
I
|
; 21P. 19. According to the summary conception,
i moral rules are merely rules of thumb or practical aids
in deliberation. It is advisable to consult them because
they are generally reliable guides. They represent what
; past experience has shown to be an act's usual utility.
n ... ' "" ~ i46
of thumb, this dilemma seems unavoidable.
25. A rule which defines a practice, however,
! does not express a generalization. Hence It does not
! I
I
have the logical relations to contrary cases that a
generalization has. This sort of rule states the neces-
i
! I
| sary conditions for the existence and maintenance of a !
j practice.2 ^ An unwillingness to honor these conditions
j
i makes the practice itself impossible. Rules of practice,
then, function quite differently from summary rules.
Unlike summary rules, practice rules are not logically
independent of the goals they make possible or the
system they maintain. This is an important difference.
It leads, as Rawls says,
to an entirely different conception of the authority
which each person has to decide on the propriety of
' following a rule in particular cases. To engage in a
practice, means to follow the appropriate rules. If
one wants to do an action which a certain practice
specifies then there is no way to do it except to
follow the rules which define it. Therefore, it
doesn't make sense for a person to raise the question
whether a rule of practice applies to his case where
the action he contemplates is a form of action
defined by a practice.*3
In other words, a rule of practice does not allow the
same kind of exceptions as summary rules. This does not
mean practice rules tolerate no exceptions. For the
22The practice conception of rules is most evident
' in games. But Rawls thinks it can be applied to promising
: and punishment, two major sources of trouble for the
: utilitarian.
| 23"Two Concepts of Rules," p. 26.
147
j
j criterion of moral rules, that of maximizing goodness,
i
i must enter into the proper interpretation of even practice
i rules. It is Just that there are limits to the extent
j
: that this is possible without giving up the rule. We may
1 say, then, an exception is legitimate provided that it
| "is . . .a qualification or a further specification of
j the rule."2* * That is to say, legitimate exceptions to a
rule which defines a practice are not really exceptions
to the rule but qualifications of it. With respect to
the rule of promise-keeping, there may be exceptions to
the rule (or the practice it defines), but these exceptions
are part of the rule (or practice) itself.25 What this
rule cannot allow, however, is the breaking of a promise
whenever and wherever the consequences of doing so are
; best.2^ This sort of exception is logically incompatible
; with the practice:
2**Ibid., p. 27.
25whether there are any built-in exceptions to the
rule "Always keep your promises" is at least debatable.
As H. J. McCloskey points out, when on occasion we think
ourselves Justified in breaking a promise, we still believe
, we have broken the rule. We don't feel only puzzled as to
what exactly the rule is. See his article An Examination
of Restricted Utilitarianism," in Contemporary Utllltarl-
anism, ed. by Michael D. Bayles, Anchor Books (Garden City,
| N. Y.: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1968), p. 140.
; 2^Rawls puts it this way: "To decide particular
cases on utilitarian grounds is incompatible with the
concept of a practice; . . . what discretion one does have
; is itself defined by the practice." "Two Concepts of
| Rules," p. 30.
I 148
I
i Various defenses for not keeping one's promise are
I allowed, but among them there Isn't the one that, on
general utilitarian grounds, the promisor (truly;
thought his action best on the whole.2'
; For "the whole point of having the practice would be lost j
: |
if the practice did allow this excuse."2® If the promisor j
thinks this sort of exception is compatible, he simply I
I
; doesn't understand what it means to say "I promise." He
\
\
I doesn't "understand what defenses the practice, which
defines a promise, allows to him."29 He fails to see
that the practice of promise-keeping "necessarily involves
the abdication of full liberty to act on utilitarian
grounds."30 "The promisor is bound because he promised:
weighing the case on its merits is not open to him."31
26. Rawls thinks that the main objections to
utilitarianism can be avoided if in such matters as
27Ibid., p. 17.
2®Ibld. Cf. "If one considers what the practice
of promising is one will see . . . that it is not such as
to allow this sort of discretion to the promisor. Indeed
the point of the practice is to abdicate one's title to
act in accordance with utilitarian . . . considerations in
order that the future may be tied down and plans coordi
nated in advance." Ibid., p. 16.
29ibld., p. 17.
3°Ibld., p. 24. Cf. "It is a mistake to think
I that if the practice is Justified on utilitarian grounds,
j . . . the promisor must have complete liberty whether or
| not to keep his promise." Ibid., p. 16.
31ibid.
I __
| 1^9
punishment and promise-keeping^ the practice conception
of rules is substituted for the summary conception. It
I is clear that so long as the summary conception of moral
i
rules is retained the utilitarian is in deep trouble. If
he follows moral rules even In cases where he knows he
i
i can produce a greater good by breaking them, he can be
| accused of superstitious rule-worship^ and defeating
| the very purpose of the rules. But if the logic of moral
rules is such that they do not permit particular excep
tions, and if these rules make possible a practice or
institution which does have utilitarian Justification,
then the rule-utilitarian does not act absurdly or
inconsistently when he follows the moral rule as it
stands. For he knows that to make an exception is to
; follow an altogether different rule, a rule which defines
I
another practice that does not have utilitarian justifica
tion. In other words, if moral rules define a practice
which is justified by its utility, and which therefore
cannot be modified to achieve a greater good in particular
instances, the rule-utilitarian cannot be criticized for
i acting Irrationally or inconsistently when he fails in
! 32rsw13 considers punishment and promise-keeping
! test cases for utilitarianism.
i
33This is Smart's criticism. See p. 137 above,
j He thinks it Is absurd to follow a rule when the end it
j serves can be better achieved by breaking it. But this
criticism presupposes that moral rules are summary rules
rather than rules which define practices.
! 150
| "hard cases" to make exceptions to achieve a greater good.
I
Neither can he be accused of defeating the purpose of his
! rules when he does not make his rules more optimific by
: building Into them the sorts of exceptions which our moral
consciousness condemns.3^ The rule-utilitarian is open j
j to criticism, then, only if he thinks of moral rules '
| according to the summary conception. If he takes them
i
1 as rules defining a practice, the grounds on which he is
criticized dissolve; for the moves which he is criticized !
for failing to make simply cannot be made at all.
27. We have remarked that if Rawls1 practice
conception of rules can be made to apply to such things
as punishment and promise-keeping, the rule-utilitarian
can escape objections (3), (4), and (5) as presented in
1
1 Part II. So the question comes to this: Can the practice
i
conception of rules, so evident in games, be successfully
carried over into such activities as promising and
punishing?
28. I think there is good reason to suppose that
it cannot. There does seem to be a fundamental difference
i between the rules of a game such as baseball and the rules
; 34j
am referring to such modified rules as "Always
! keep promises except when you can produce more good by
I breaking them secretly"; "Never knowingly punish an
innocent man except when it can be done in such a way that
! public confidence in the courts is not undermined and the
I public good is enlarged"; "Never take malicious delight in
J the suffering of others except when it can be concealed
i from them."
| of, say, promising. The baseball player who reserves for
i
himself the right to take four strikes under some circum-
■ stances is not playing baseball. This is because the
rule "Three strikes only" defines the game.35 jf he isn't
willing to always observe this rule, he isn't playing
I
! baseball, whatever else he might be doing. But the man
i
! who makes a promise while intending to break it, if doing
! so will have the best consequences, is still promising.
One doesn't have to intend to follow the rule "Always
keep your promises notwithstanding" in order to make pro
mises as one has to be prepared to follow the rule "Three
strikes only" in order to play baseball. The analogy
35it might be objected that the rule "Three
strikes only" is not a defining rule of baseball, because
a single person or an entire league can decide to play
baseball according to the rule "Three strikes only except
i when you can get away with four." Now of course one can
play by this rule and continue to call the game one plays
baseball." But that would be misleading, for it would
not be the same game, and that is the point at issue.
' Under the new rule one would not be entitled to say (and
mean) that he is playing baseball as the game is presently
defined and understood. This is not to say that the (new)
game is not a better game than the old. It may well be
a better (more exciting?) game, but whether it is or
isn't, it is not the same old game. If it were discovered
that one always takes four strikes when one can get away
with it while everybody else plays by the old rule, one
could expect to be told that he is not playing baseball.
And one could not successfully rebut the charge by
I pointing to the base one had stolen or the fly one had
i caught.
I
I_
152
therefore seems to break down. And if it does it must
be because the rules are of a different kind.36
| 29. Perhaps this difference can be shown in the
i
: following way. If a rule defines a practice, that i*ule
i
cannot be broken if one is to engage in the practice.
; But it seems that one can break the rule "Always keep
I your promises, even in cases where, all things considered,
more good can be produced by breaking it" without forsak-
!
ing the practice of promising. That is to say, I can still
make promises (or put myself under obligation) even though
I act on the more modified rule "Always keep your promises
except under conditions x, y, and z." That on this modi
fied rule I can still engage in promise-making can be
seen from the fact that no one would, having discovered
the maxim I am acting on, say to me, "Whatever else you
may have done when you told Jones you would repay the five
dollars he loaned you last week, you did not promise to do
so. Since you didn't make any promise, you are under no
binding obligation to repay Jones. Nor can anyone accuse
you of breaking your promise, for it is impossible to
^ This, I take it, is Gertrude Ezorsky's criticism.
Ezorsky thinks Rawls has failed to show "that the obser-
j vance of the moral rules of the practice define the act
1 that falls under it." Accordingly, "his analogy between
! the utilitarian who wants to break his promise and the
i batter who claims it would be better on the whole if he
j were allowed four strikes, collapses." "Utilitarianism
; and Rules," Australasian Journal of Philosophy, XLIII
I (August, 1965)> 228.
| break a promise you never made." Quite the opposite
response would be expected from someone who found out I
' do not intend to repay Jones if I discover I can produce
I more good by giving the money to someone else. He would
doubtless say that I did indeed promise to repay Jones
| and that the rule I had in mind when I "promised" Jones
I would repay him doesn't alter my obligation in the least.
1
30. We are, in all this, verging on a very
difficult problem, viz., of what it is to make a promise.
We do not expect to answer this question, but if we can
establish just two or three points we shall be better
able to see why the rule(s) defining promising are not
what Rawls takes them to be.
j
What is it, then, to make a promise? Let us first
j
i consider what making a promise is not.
I
31. (l) In the first place, to make a promise is
not merely to utter certain words. For one can make the
same promise in different languages. Further, one could
stipulate that when he utters the words "red," "fire,"
"hot" he should be understood to mean what the English
( words "I," "promise," "you" ordinarily mean. Having made
clear this peculiar usage, if I were to say to you, "Red
i
| fire hot five dollars" I could be said to have promised
! you five dollars.37 Assuming making a promise is simply
j ---------------------- -
| 37one could even make shrugging the language of
I promising. If I told you that I mean by five shrugs
j a matter of speaking, if I exclaimed while sleeping on
your sofa, "I promise to pay you five dollars," you could
accuse me of breaking a promise when I disclaimed any
knowledge of making it and refused to pay.
i
32. (2) If making a promise is not a mere matter
of using language, can we say that it consists in giving
| another person reason to think one has placed oneself
under obligation? This is not entirely satisfactory
, either. For if I say while lecturing, "I promise you
five dollars" and you, not realizing that I made the
remark to illustrate a point about the logic of promising,
ask me later to make good on the promise, I should not
feel that I had really promised. But making a promise
does have at least something to do with leading someone
else to expect something from me. If when I said "I
promise you five dollars" you asked me if I really meant
it or intended the statement as a promise and I said "Yes,
I most certainly do mean it, and please never doubt my
sincerity again1 ." (all the while— but without ever telling
you--uslng your question and my reply to augment the point
I am driving home), I think I should feel a slight obliga
tion, provided you were truly convinced that a promise had
been made and I had given you good reason to be.
"I promise you five dollars" and then proceeded to give
you five shrugs, I would have put myself under obligation.
155
! 33. (3) Two more things need to be said. To
really make a promise or put myself under obligation I
; must give another person reason to expect from me some
thing that is agreeable to him. If in a fit of rage I
i
1 promise to burn down your house, I should not, when I have j
i cooled off, think myself under obligation to do so.38 !
| But should I, while feeling generous, promise to take you
out to dinner, I would feel obligated to do so even if I
no longer wanted to. Why is this? Because to make a
genuine promise is to create a right or a claim. If I
make you a promise, I have given you the right to expect
and to demand that I deliver. The only way I can be
released from the obligation attending the promise is to
get that release from you.39 That is to say, you must
i ^ To promise to do something disagreeable is very
like a threat. And we don't usually feel obligated to
; make good our threats. This apparently is Ross's view,
although he presents it in the context of punishment. See
The Right and the Good, p. 63.
39it is important to note that to have a valid
excuse for failing to make good on a promise is not neces
sarily to be released from it. If I promise to drive you
to a baseball game on Tuesday but do not do so either
because I am ill or because I am asked to drive an accident
i victim to the hospital, while I could be said to have
, broken my promise, I should nevertheless think myself
I excused. This would be an instance of competing obliga-
! tions where I fulfil what I consider to be the stronger.
| For just as I have the duty to keep my promise, so also I
i have the duty to try to save the life of an injured person
! and to refrain from driving when I am so ill I cannot do
j so responsibly. But even though I am excused in breaking
; my promise to you, my excuse doesn't constitute a release
J from the promise. Were the excuse a release, I could not
! be said to have broken the promise, nor would I have any
j ' . . . . . . . . ' " - ‘ 156
I give up the right or the claim against me that I have
1
, given you. Now if this is so, I surely cannot promise
| you to burn down your house. For if I did succeed in
1 i
1
making this promise, I would have the obligation to set
your house afire, unless of course you release me from it. 1
- !
! Only by burning your house would I fulfil the claim you !
! now have against me. Now this certainly is odd. By my
words I have created your right to have your house
destroyed against your will. I have managed to put myself
under obligation to fulfil a claim that you have against
me that you never wanted in the first place. These are
the implications of assimilating threats to promises.
A threat cannot, then, be legitimately construed
as a promise. One cannot be said to have promised someone
something that is repugnant to him. But, it may be asked,
I
' Does not the state promise retribution or punishment to
those who commit crimes? Isn't this a case where some
thing very disagreeable is promised? No, and for the
following reason: If the state could be said to promise
retribution to citizens that transgress its laws, not only
would it thereby create the transgressor's right or claim
• to punishment, but it would enable the transgressor to
l
| release the state from its duty to punish him by merely
I giving up that right or the claim he has against it. So
j -----------------------
1 obligation to apologize to you and to offer to take you to
| another game, both of which I would feel obliged to do.
j 157
I
j It is clear that if there is any promise at all here, it
: is one made by the state only to those who find the
j punishment of criminals agreeable. The state, no more j
I
; than an individual, can be said to promise what is dis
agreeable. The logic of a promise simply prevents it.
3^. (^) The other element which mu3t be supplied
I is my conscious intention. That is, in order to make you
i
a fully binding promise I must consciously Intend to
assure you (or to lead you to believe) that you can count
on me to do something in your Interest. Were this not a
condition of promising, I could make promises to fence
posts and while sleeping. In claiming that to make a
promise one must intend something, I am not, it should be
noted, defending a bipartite theory of promises according
to which the intention to keep one's promise is part of
the promise's meaning. That such a theory is defensible
is doubtful. As Henry Jack points out, if promises are
said to include a statement of intention in their meaning,
a strange conclusion follows: assuming that one makes a
promise with no intention to keep it but ends up keeping
it after all, it would still have to be said that one's
! promise was invalid or false. It would be an invalid
I
! promise, whether it is kept or not, because the
158
descriptive part of the promise (i.e. that part asserting
i .
a fact about one's intentions) was false.^0
I The oddity of this consequence leads Jack to
I
; espouse a performatory theory of promises. On this view
I promises are non-descriptive speech acts which are vall-
: dated by being kept but are, because they contain no
' descriptive content, never literally true or false.
j
Thus I conclude that promises are not descriptive
statements, either in whole or in part; they are not
•true* or 'false1 in the ordinary literal sense; they
do not state facts, nor do they characterize or
describe anything. They are rather verbal perform
ances (acts) . When one makes a promise he is commit
ting himself to others; permitting them to have
certain expectations about what he will do. . . .
promises belong to a form of discourse that is
completely non-descriptive. 1
I have no desire to quarrel with Jack's conclusion; but
i in any case no part of my argument turns on it, since I
i
j am only anxious to establish that the promisor's conscious
: intention to try to persuade the promisee to believe that
i the promisor can be trusted to do something agreeable to
the promisee is a necessary condition of making a promise.
Whether the sentence "I promise you ..." contains as
part of its meaning a description of the promisor's
i
intention is another question altogether. With respect
^Henry Jack, "On the Analysis of Promises,"
Journal of Philosophy, LV (July, 1958), 597-504.
4lIbid., p. 604.
j to that question I am, for the moment at least, willing
i
to accept Jack's analysis. j
j 35* To summarize, the necessary conditions for j
making a promise are (l) the conscious Intent to induce
i
belief or to create expectation or trust; (2) the perform-
j
| ;
ance of an act by the promisor which is understood by the !
i promisee as a commitment; (3) the guarantee of that toward j
which the promisee has (or is thought to have) a
h o
pro-attitude. ^
ho
Someone may say we have left out one important
factor, viz., that of the ability to do what we promise.
That is to say, one cannot be accused of really breaking
a promise (or of a breach of obligation) when it is impos
sible for one to keep his word, on the grounds that
! "ought" Implies "can." This is a difficult matter, and
! I should not want to say ability to carry through a promise
is not an important consideration. I am inclined to think
inability is a legitimate excuse, but I am quite sure it
I doesn't erase an obligation entirely. And surely the
i inability to make a promise good does not make it impos
sible to make the promise. A couple of examples should
show this, (l) If I promise my four year old daughter a
horse for her birthday, but due to an intervening illness
; do not have the funds to purchase one, I believe I am
breaking my promise to her. That I do not have the money
does not remove (though it perhaps diminishes) my obliga
tion. If it did erase my obligation, I should feel no
obligation to buy her the horse as soon as I am able to
manage it, unless I made her still another promise. (2)
I can promise my wife that I shall buy her a fur coat for
, Christmas knowing full well I shall not be able to do so.
; To tell her Christmas day that I never intended to buy her
a coat, that I knew I would not be able to then and am
! utterly unable to do so now, and that consequently I really
! made no promise or at least have no obligation to keep it,
! would be at best a poor joke.
i There are doubtless more conditions we should have
; to consider were we to fully map out the logic of this
: concept. Other complexities we have not called attention
to are these: (l) What is it to promise oneself something?
j Does such a promise create an obligation or is it not
It Is important to note that condition (l) can be
I
fulfilled while condition (2) Is not, and vice versa. It
is possible to intend to induce belief while falling in
the attempt to perform any act at all. I may intend to
make my dying friend a promise but find myself so overcome ;
by grief I am unable to say or do anything. In such a 1
| case, in spite of my Intent, no promise is made. Simi
larly, it is possible to perform an act that is understood
to be a promise but is not intended as such. While tour
ing a foreign country with whose customs I am unfamiliar,
I may blink my eyes three times while looking at someone,
not knowing that this act is understood by people in that
; country to be a commitment to have the person over to
really a promise but an expression of resolve? (2) Are
all promises obligatory? If someone tells me falsely
that his wife desperately needs medicine and I promise
to return with twenty dollars for him only to discover
just before giving him the money that he has no wife, I
should not think myself obligated to give him the money.
To account for this we may say either of two things: (a)
that I did not make a genuine promise, or (b) that not all
promises are obligatory. Whichever way we go there are
going to be difficulties. (3) As we have noted, I cannot
consciously try to get a fence post to believe I will do
something agreeable to or for it; but presumably a moron
or intoxicated person could. And if so, would such a
person be under obligation to a fence post? It is no
use saying it doesn't matter what the drunk or moron
thinks, insofar as no one can have an obligation to an
; inanimate object. For I might make a promise to a friend
! on his deathbed, just--unknown to me--moments after he
died. As long as I think he was alive and heard me, is
anyone willing to say that what I think makes no differ-
, ence to my obligation? And if what I think makes a
I difference, must not what the drunk man or moron thinks
| also make a difference?
j dinner the next day. Condition (3) I have deliberately
i
left vague. Obviously what one thinks the promisee has a
! pro-attitude toward may be what he actually has a negative
attitude toward. Ordinarily this distinction causes no
problem, since a man will certainly inform the would-be
! promisor when he doesn’t like the commitment tendered.
! But in unusual circumstances the distinction between what
is thought to be true and what is actually true can cause
a problem. Suppose I say to a dying friend "I promise to
care for your ailing wife" thinking that he would like
this when in fact he hates his wife. If he dies seconds
later and before he can set me straight, am I under obli
gation to look after his wife? Would it make any differ
ence if my friend, not realizing the seriousness of his
condition and wishing to conserve his strength, nods his
head in approval to forestall having to explain his feel
ings to me until tomorrow, but dies during the night?
However interesting this question may be, no attempt will
be made to settle it here--and for two reasons: (l) I
have been unable to make up my own mind on the matter, and
(2) how this question is answered has no bearing on the
conclusions I wish to draw from the discussion.
1
| If the three conditions cited above are the
conditions which must be met before one can be said to
: have made a promise, that is if these are the defining
| 162 !
| or "enabling"^ rules of promising, two Important j
conclusions follow. j
j 36. (l) Whether or not I Intend to keep a promise !
I
has nothing to do with my making It. If I consciously
Intend and by my acts try to get someone to believe I will
i :
do something to or for him that he finds agreeable, I have 1
made a promise. Whether I intend to keep it is irrelevant
to the making of it.
37. (2) Neither does it make any difference
whether it is believed that I will keep my promise. The
person to whom I make the promise may know that I often
break my promises and conclude that I will probably break
this one, but that does not mean I have not actually made
I
him a promise. If I fail to carry through on this one,
l i l i
| he can legitimately accuse me of breaking it.
38. We may say, then, with respect to an earlier
example, that so long as I by my words consciously try to
^This term is David Lyons'.
^If the person to whom I make a promise knows I do
not intend to keep it, we have a complication. He may, in
that case, not believe I have actually made him a promise.
Yet I think he could Justly accuse me of breaking it if I
didn't keep it. A third party, hearing my commitment but
unaware of my intentions, would surely conclude that I had
j indeed made a promise. It is, of course, questionable
i whether anyone could know I do not intend to keep my word
unless I tell him so as I make the promise. And if I say
”1 promise to give you five dollars next week no matter
: what” but then add I will not do so under conditions A or
: B,” I have surely made no promise. For if I said that, I
: would not be consciously trying to convince the other party
! that I would do something agreeable to him no matter what.
163
assure my partner on the raft that I will educate his son,
I have In fact promised. If I later put his money to
; another use, I will have broken the promise. That Is to
I
say, I can make and break promises acting on the maxim
! "Always keep promises, except when by breaking them you can J
I produce more good than by keeping them." Such being the ■
i
j case, what Rawls takes to be a rule defining promising Is
not a rule of that sort. For, as I understand Rawls, he
, Is saying that If I act on this more modified mile I am
violating a rule which defines promising and therefore
cannot be engaged In the activity of promising.
It may be suggested that though I can successfully
; make and break promises on the modified rule, I am under
mining the practice nonetheless, that I am acting on a
I rule incompatible with the maintenance of the institution
i
of promising, and that if everyone acted on my maxim the
institution would be seriously impaired. This, it may be
said, is the point Rawls is stressing. We reply to this
that It is possible to act on the rule "Never break pro
mises except under conditions x, y, and z"^5 and that this
; rule, even if everyone followed it, would not tend in the
least to weaken the institution. It is, in fact, a more
i
! optimific rule than the rule "Never break promises."
J»5x- when breaking them can be kept secret; y *
\ when breaking them will not weaken the practice; z- when
breaking them will produce the most good.
Hence the latter rule cannot be a defining rule of the |
general practice of promising either.^ j
! 39* We conclude that Rawls' notion of rules that |
|
define a practice cannot help the utilitarian out of his |
i j
difficulties with regard to promising. For the practice i
i conception does not extend to those rules of promising I
: which give the utilitarian his biggest troubles. To put
it another way, Just as the defining rules of football do
not encompass all the rules of football, so too the
defining rules of promising do not include all the rules
of promising. It is a violation of a defining rule of
football for one team to play with twenty-five men on the
field. It is a violation of a rule of football--but not
a defining rule--if one knocks down the kicker or tackles
a receiver before he has the ball. Similarly, it would be
a violation of a rule of promising--but not a defining
rule--if one secretly breaks a promise to produce a
greater good. It would be a violation of a defining rule
If one made a promise with the announced provision that
one intended to break it or if one broke it when doing so
would undermine the practice.
40. This is not to say there are no important
; conditions or rules which define promise-making or the
, ^I believe our argument is substantially that of
! H. J. McCloskey. See his article "An Examination of
1 Restricted Utilitarianism," p. 124.
! 165
I institution of promising.Whatever these may be, there
i
is no way to make a promise or support the practice other
| than by following these rules. The point we wish to make
is this, that the rules which define promising or make
possible the practice do not seem to be what Rawls thinks i
I they are. And if they are not, then the practice concep- 1
tion of rules is not able to do the job Rawls thinks it
does. Specifically, it does not save the rule-utilitarian
from objections (3), (4), and (5).
41. It has been argued that to make commitments--
but on the rule that they shall be broken when the most
good can be produced by doing so--is still to engage in
the activity of promising. Can the same thing be said
about punishment? That is to say, Is to punish an innocent
person when and only when, all things considered, the most
good can be produced by doing so, still to engage in the
activity of punishment? As in the case of promising, to
answer this question we should have to raise--and what is
worse, to answer--the question "Is the person who is
unjustly punished really punished?" Or to put it another
^He have suggested that among the conditions for
making a promise are (l) conscious intention; (2) the
attempt to assure someone that one will do something; (3)
that what one promises to do is agreeable to the other
person. If these conditions are not met, no promise is
made. What the conditions are for the maintenance of the
practice is something else. One of the conditions would
have to be that any violations that would undermine the
practice be kept secret.
way, "Is to be punished unfairly Just another way of
being punished?" To this question, two types of reply
j can be made.
42. (l) One may claim that to be unjustly
i
punished is not to be punished at all, that, in fact, the
punishment of the innocent is logically impossible,^®
I that to unfairly punish someone is to abandon the activity j
' i
of punishment in favor of some other activity. This, as
I understand it, is Rawls' view. To frame and punish a
i
man known to be innocent in order to achieve the greater
good of society is, he says, to engage in "telishment"
^®Brandt puts it this way: "in recent years, some
philosophers have sought to rescue the utilitarian from
! his supposed difficulty of being committed to advocate
the punishment of innocent men, by a verbal point. Their
argument is that it is logically guaranteed that only a
! guilty man may be punished. HFunishraent,' it is said,
! like 'reward' and 'forgive,' has a backward reference; we
properly speak of 'punishing for . . . ,' and if we inflict
i suffering on someone for the sake of utility and irrespec
tive of guilt for some offense, it is a misuse of the word
'punishment' to speak of such a person as being punished."
Brandt goes on to say that the utilitarian gains little
by this verbal move. Whether or not it is thought to
be self-contradictory to say of an innocent man that he
is being "punished" for the sake of the public good, "it
may still be that utilitarian theory commits one to advo
cating that prosecutors suppress evidence on certain
i occasions, that Judges aid in conducting unfair trials
and pronounce sentences out of line with custom for a
particular type of case in times of public danger, and,
j in short, that innocent men be locked up or executed—
j only not 'punished*— for the sake of the public welfare.
I So, if there is a difficulty here at all for the utili
tarian theory, the verbal maneuver of these philosophers
; seems not to remove it." Ethical Theory (Englewood
: Cliffs, N. J.: Prentice-Hall, Inc., 1959)> P» ^95.
167
jrather than punishment.^9 Accordingly, the unhappy victim
would not be punished at all, but telished.
! This view does have some plausibility. After all,
iwe usually think of punishment as something meted out for
a violation of some rule. And it sounds a bit odd to say
| i
: that a person ought to be "punished" for nothing or for !
i
ino reason, or for the public’s welfare only.
43. (2) On the other hand, one may claim that an
innocent person who is framed, tried, convicted and sent
to jail for utilitarian reasons is indeed punished. This
is Ezorsky's view,-^ and McCloskey agrees, writing,
to punish an innocent person when and only when to do
so is not to weaken the existing institution of
punishment and when the consequences of doing so are
valuable is not to set up Wbat Rawls calls an
institution of tellshment.51
The argument that the punishing of the innocent is a
logical impossibility is, McCloskey thinks, a "red-herring"
argument. He cites two reasons for this belief: (l) "Not
all unjust punishment is punishment of the innocent. Much
is punishment which is excessive."52 (g) "It is immaterial
whether we call deliberate inflictions of sufferings
^9"two Concepts of Rules," p. 12.
j 50"uti2itarianism and Rules," p. 228.
51”An Examination of Restricted Utilitarianism,"
p. 124.
! 52"A Non-Utilitarian Approach to Punishment,"
j p. 244.
| 168
|
| punishment, social surgery, social quarantining, etc."53
Besides, since everyone calls the punishing of the innocent;
I unjust punishment, there is no abuse of language involved !
i
: in calling it such. j
44. McCloskey's point, then, is this: that to j
i :
! construe the rules prohibiting promise-breaking and unfair !
! punishment as rules which define an activity is a mistake.
We are inclined to agree, though in the matter of punish
ment we are not nearly so confident as we are in the
matter of promising that our assessment is correct.
45. Rawls offered the practice-conception of
rules as a way to make the rule-utilitarian position more
:defensible.5^ Convincing reasons have been given for
thinking that the practice-conception of rules, while
;surely a legitimate conception, does not help the utilitar
ian out of the difficulties Rawls thought it could.
Accordingly, objections (3)> (4), and (5) still stand.
Are there any more objections to be raised? Indeed there
are. A discussion of these forms the substance of Parts
IV and V .
53Ibid., p. 245.
5^Rawls never intended to say that rule-
utilitarianism is completely defensible, only that with
I the practice-conception of rules it is considerably more
acceptable than act-utilitarianism.
46. Even if it is granted that promising and pun
ishment are practices which are in effect abandoned if the ,
right is reserved to break promises and to punish unfairly
whenever more good can be produced by doing so, that does i
i |
: not establish that the practices of promising and punish- !
I ment really have better consequences than other practices
i
that might be substituted for them. Consider the institu
tion of "telishment," for example. It provides for the
punishment of the innocent and guilty alike, whenever
either will produce the most good. It is at least argu
able, I think, that this practice or institution would
have better consequences than our present one.55 And even
if it doesn't, the point is, if it did have better conse-
; quences, the rule-utilitarian would have to consider the
practice morally Justified. The same might be said for
the practice of taking secret pleasure in the undeserved
misfortune of others. That is to say, if it is legitimate
to assume that happiness or intense delight is good for
its own sake, should not the rule-utilitarian have to
commend the rule "Always take delight in the unavoidable
I 55McCloskey shares this view. See his "An Examina-
! tion of Restricted Utilitarianism," pp. 127-28; 13^-35.
Also see David Lyons, Forms and Limits of Utilitarianism
I (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1965), p. 185. Though Lyons
i doesn't explicitly say that a system of telishment would
: do more to maximize utility than our present system of
Justice, this is certainly the direction of his argument.
j misfortune of others whenever you know you are able to
conceal your true feelings from them, and when, all things j
considered, the consequences of taking this pleasure will
I -
result in the most intrinsic good."56 Surely this rule
would have better consequences than the rule "Never take
i ' i
pleasure in the suffering of others." The rule-utilitarian1
I i
may object that it would not, on the grounds that every
body would be suspicious of his neighbors and that this
suspicion would be worse than the goodness of any possible
delight. But we can formulate our rule to avoid this
objection. Let us say, "Always take pleasure in the
suffering of others when you are sure they have no
: 56It
must be admitted that taking this sort of
delight or pleasure is not something that one can in any
straightforward 3ense do. This undoubtedly reduces its
effectiveness as an example. But its force is not, I
think, entirely blunted by this consideration. For one's
thoughts and dispositions are not altogether outside one's
control. To some extent at least, what a person thinks
about is up to him. If I dislike an individual and some
thing unpleasant happens to him, I can succeed in reducing
the satisfaction this gives me by refusing to dwell upon
it or by thinking of this person's good qualities. On
the other hand, I can increase my satisfaction by thinking
of all the things I dislike about him and by trying to
recount particular instances in which he offended or
embarrassed me. It is, of course, doubtful that the
long-range consequences of taking pleasure or satisfaction
in others' misfortune usually results in an overall
increase in pleasure. But in certain sets of circum-
| stances it may. A vicious criminal about to be executed
! would increase the overall enjoyment or pleasure in the
world were he able in his last moments to find satisfac
tion in the misery he caused his victims. If the rule-
I utilitarian happens to believe that all pleasure or satis-
; faction is intrinsically good, he will have to sanction a
| rule which Justifies and encourages this sort of satisfac-
i tion in all individuals in these particular circumstances.
| suspicions and when you know you can both conceal your
!
pleasure and convince them of your feeling3 of sympathy."57
; Would not the universal adoption of this rule have the
! best possible consequences? There may be very few
' instances that fall under this rule, possibly even none,
I
| though I think that is improbable given the ease with
! which some are convinced of the loyalty of others. But
even supposing that there will be very few occasions when
one can rejoice in the suffering of another person and be
confident that one's delight can be kept secret, that no
suspicion will be aroused, and that one can successfully
convince the suffering person that he has one's genuine
sympathy, the point is, wouldn't this be the most optimiflc
rule to follow when and if such cases did arise? If the
; answer is, Yes, the rule-utilitarian must consider the
I
rule (or practice) Justified, however Jarring it is to
our moral consciousness. But is this not one rule we
should not wish to have universalized in spite of the good
consequences its acceptance might bring? And would we not
Judge similarly with respect to the possibly very useful
, practices of preventive detention for habitual law-breakers,
passing retroactive legislation, and punishing parents of
I " 1 *
; 57it is no use for the rule-utilitarian to say
these exceptions (or conditions) are not morally relevant,
I because what determines whether an exception is morally
: relevant is whether its inclusion in a rule of practice
| has good consequences. Since in this case it does, these
j exceptions are morally relevant.
' ’ ’ 172
juvenile offenders? Are not these practices which,
i though they might have consequences productive of a great
j deal of good, we should nonetheless think it quite wrong !
i l
to adopt? |
i I
47. From the preceding remarks it is quite clear
| that the rule-utilitarian cannot rely on the generaliza- 1
! tion test to weed out those rules and practices that are
! I
» 1
unacceptable. That is, he cannot say, Look what would
■ happen if everybody in a position to do so engaged in this
practice or followed this rule." For what would happen if
every Judge hanged innocent men for public good whenever
the fact of innocence could be supressed? What would
happen if everyone quietly broke deathbed promises in
I
order to produce greater good? What would happen if
jeveryone delighted in the misfortune of others whenever
the conditions outlined in the preceding paragraph were
met? In each case, the best possible results (or maximum
utility) would be achieved.
What about rules some exceptions to which have
good consequences provided that they are generally
, adhered to, rules a few exceptions to which result in a
substantial increase in net utility. Consider, for
I
j example, the following rules: "Pay your fair share of
1
taxes," "Keep off the grass," "Water your lawn only every
; other day." In the case of each of these rules, wide-
1
| spread violation spells disaster while a few violations
173
, have extremely good results. My paying all the taxes I
i
owe Is neither a sufficient nor a necessary condition for
: the goods of government to be achieved. If I fail to
' declare a portion of my income, no essential government
service will be curtailed as a result and I will be able
to make some very essential improvements on my house.
I Similarly, since everyone heeds the sign and stays off
the grass, it will not damage the grass if I (and perhaps
a few others) walk on it. Why should I not therefore walk
on it when I return home late on dark nights when I am
tired and it is an inconvenience to walk around it? So
far as the watering of my lawn is concerned, it will not
hurt the general supply if only a few persons water their
lawn every day. Since my back yard is enclosed by a high
fence over which no one can see, why should I not water
that part of my lawn daily? It will give me much pleasure
to do so and will hurt absolutely no one.
48. Now pretty clearly all these violations are
wrong. The question is, Can the rule-utilitarian, by
appealing to the generalization test (which spelled out
, reads "What would happen if everybody did the same?"),
put these violations down as wrong? Only if the rule-
j utilitarian can hold that the generalization test has
force where there is no causal influence. That is to say,
i the generalization or universalization test can be used by
1
j the rule-utilitarian to discredit these breaches only if
| it can be shown that it is irrelevant to the utility of
ray act whether it will have any effect on the behavior of
(others. For it is to be assumed in the foregoing examples
! that secrecy is assured, that what I do will set no public
t
example, that what I do will have no causal Influence at j
i |
( all on the behavior of others. The question is, then,
) Can the rule-utilitarian defend the non-causal or hypo
thetical (as distinguished from the causal) version of
the principle?58
(a) It is doubtful that he can. Surely it makes
a great deal of difference to the utility of act? of this
sort whether they influence the way others behave. If I
water my lawn my act has good results only if most others
do not do likewise. So whether my act encourages or does
not encourage others to do likewise is crucial to its
overall utility. When the utilitarian says that this
consideration may be disregarded in assessing the right
ness of my act, he stands convicted of inconsistency. He
is saying, in effect, that the total utility of my act
(or the class of such acts) does not depend upon, and may
be determined without regard to, some features of the act
(or the class of such acts) that plainly do affect its
overall utility.
^These terms are A. K. Stout's and are found In
his essay "But Suppose Everybody Bid the Same." Austral
asian Journal of Philosophy. XXXII (May, 195*0» 1-29.
j 175
i
! (b) To say that I should not maximize utility by
|
doing something because if everybody were to do it, which
i
: I know they will not, the results would be bad is surely
i
an odd argument when it comes from the mouth of a utili-
i
tarlan. What possible utilitarian basis is there for an j
* argument of this sort? Is it not from the utilitarian
I point of view silly to ask, "But what would happen if
everyone were to water his lawn dally or cheat on his
taxes or walk on the grass?” when one knows that his
doing so will not cause others to do so, when one knows
that the great majority can be counted on not to act as
he does, when one knows that because of what others will
do one's own violation of the rule will result in both
i
personal gain and an increase in net utility? After all,
i the only reason any utilitarian can give for following
rules and encouraging others to do the same is that
following rules has good results. Since it is the utility
of rules that justifies their adoption, shouldn't those
breaches that have good results receive endorsement Just
as readily? What possible utilitarian reason can be
given for a negative answer to this question?59
59a. C. Ewing says--and I fear he is rlght--that
| no utilitarian reason is available, unless fairness is
; held to be intrinsically good and unfairness intrinsically
bad. This line of retreat, which is one of several taken
I by Blanshard, will be examined in chap. vii. For Ewing's
I comments see his article ”What Would Happen if Everybody
1 Acted Like Me?” Philosophy, XXVIII (January, 1953),
I 16-29.
i_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
176
49. It has been argued that the hypothetical
version of the generalization test Is not one the rule-
| utilitarian can appeal to. This version of the generali-
i
! zatlon argument will not work for the rule-utilitarian
t
because the application of It doesn't permit consideration
J of those features of acts which the rule-utilitarian must
regard as essential to their proper description and
classification. What features or sorts of properties are
relevant to the description of an act and to the placing
of it in its proper class? The answer ls--to borrow
i David Lyons' terms--"causal or consequential significant
properties."
The only legitimate candidate for inclusion in the
' description of an action for the application of a
form of utilitarian generalization are causal or
; consequential significant properties, that is those
| properties in virtue of which actions have effects.
I Thus, general utilitarian properties that are relevant
for the application of utilitarian generalization--
are causal properties in virtue of which the universal
performance of acts of that kind would produce some
utility or disutility.
Whether a feature of an act is relevant to its description
and classification depends upon whether its presence has
i some effect on the act's utility or disutility. If It
: does, that feature Is morally relevant and must form part
I of the act's description; if it does not, the property is
| irrelevant and must be left out of the description. This
^®Lyons, Forms and Limits of Utilitarianism,
p. 57. Also see pp. 60, 76.
! 177
!
j is the criterion of relevance to which every mile-
utilitarian must subscribe.
J 50. Now the question is, In the examples we have !
i
considered, which features of these acts or of the circum
stances that surround them must figure in their descrip- j
, I
1 I
! tlon? What conditions or properties are teleologically '
! significant? That the act can be effectively concealed
so that it will not influence the conduct of others is
one such property; that the act will have only good
effects if only one person or a few persons perform it
is another; that others can be relied upon not to perform
the act is still another.^1 All of these are genuine
utilitarian properties because the utility of these acts
depends in large measure on them. These features must
therefore be included in their descriptions if the descrip-
i
tions are to be complete. To leave these features out of
one's descriptions in order to apply the hypothetical
version of the generalization test will only result in
classes of acts which are not fully specified. The
classes one ends with will contain within them subclasses
the utilities of which are markedly different from the
! ^Lyons agrees that the rule-utilitarian must in
| his descriptions take into account what others will do and
I the extent to which one's own act will affect the behavior
of others. These conditions or facts must be taken into
account because they help to determine whether an act or
! a class of acts is efficacious. Forms and Limits of
1 Utilitarianism, pp. 63, 79-80.
| " 178
i
i more generic classes.
I
It follows from what has been said that the rule-
utilitarian must judge acts which have no effect on the
i general practice to be different in morally relevant !
! i
; respects from acts that do. Walking on the grass when it i
I I
! will not encourage others to do the same is not the same 1
I sort of act as walking on the grass when it will. That
these acts belong to different classes is evident once we
consider their causal properties and make their descrip
tions complete.Similarly, the Judge who, for the good
of the community, hangs a man only he will ever know was
innocent performs an act that, due to its causal character,
is relevantly different from the act of a judge who hangs
an innocent man when there is no guarantee the man's
' innocence can be kept secret. The description or charac-
i
ter of the first act is such that bad results cannot pos
sibly occur, whereas the character of the second act
leaves the possibility open. The rule-utilitarian must
therefore conclude that all hangings of the first sort are
right. For a full description of this judge's act clearly
; shows that his particular act and hence all others like it
(i.e. all those acts having the same description) will be
I
| optimific. The tendency of this class of acts is not
^2The description of an act is complete when its
; full causal character is specified, that is, when its
j description Includes all the properties which possess
i teleological significance.
j undesirable from the standpoint of utility however
undesirable the general class of acts where innocent men
are hanged might be. Similarly, the rule-utilitarian must
i
j regard it as desirable that some promises be broken for
private gain, that a few individuals avoid paying their
| taxes, that local watering restrictions be ignored by
| some avid gardeners, provided that the conditions obtaining
are such that most people will not do these things and
that detection can be avoided by the offenders.
51. But is this not the same predicament the act-
utilitarian find3 himself in? Indeed it is. The rule-
utilitarian who Justifies acts on the basis of their
generalized utility arrives at the same moral Judgments
as the act-utilitarian so long as complete descriptions
are given of the acts he evaluates, so long as the acts
i
under appraisal are not misdescribed. In short, this
form of rule-utilltarianism looks like a genuine alterna
tive to act-utilitarianism only if one selects descrip
tions that are too generic or not specific enough,
descriptions which gloss over important differences that
have utilitarian consequences once the generalization test
is applied. Once the full causal character of an act is
I
j incorporated into its description, its simple utility and
its generalized utility (the utility of the performance of
; of all acts of the same class) will be found never to
I
I diverge. To quote Lyons again:
j The conclusion amounts to this: if we consider all
! the relevant facts (and utilities) in any given case, ;
it matters not whether we ask 'What would happen if
everybody did the same?' instead of 'What would happen
if this act were performed?' It matters not, if the
I considerations employed are strictly utilitarian.
! 52. Simple rule-utilitarianism, that is to say
1 :
1
1 the kind of rule-utilitarianism that considers an act j
i
: objectively right if and only if the performance of all
I
! acts of the same description maximize utility, is there
fore no Improvement upon, and only an illusory alternative
to, act-utilitarianism. The same moral judgments follow
from both theories. Both imply that it is not my duty,
say, to vote if my vote is inconsequential and my going
to the polls is inconvenient. The rule-utilitarian cannot
say, "But you ought to vote because if everybody stayed
home your candidate would be defeated." For while it is
true that the defeat of my candidate (who is the best
candidate) would be bad, my vote is Inconsequential and
therefore not required only if enough others vote to
insure my candidate's victory. If enough of my candidate's
supporters will vote to secure his election, my vote and
all other votes above the minimum required to achieve this
objective are inconsequential and all of us who would cast
them are Justified in not going to the polls. In other
j _______________________
^Form3 and Limits of Utilitarianism, p. 118.
! 181
words, it is RU-right, Just as it is AU-right^ that one
' not vote when one's vote is redundant and when it is an
| inconvenience to cast it. The rule-utilitarian has to
i
j subscribe to the rule "Let everyone who would be incon
venienced by voting refrain from voting when enough others
| will vote to get the best results," because if everyone
I that falls into this class refrains from voting the
1 greatest net good will be produced.^5
53. The position defended here is that acts and
classes of acts are description-relative and that a condi
tion of equivalence obtains between simple rule-
utilitarianism and act-utilitarianism so long as the act
under appraisement is completely and relevantly described.
There are, however, two objections which may be brought
I against this conclusion, and these need to be examined.
(a) Boruch Brody believes, to return to our
example, that rule-utilitarianism requires that I vote
^ An act is RU-right if it is Justified on the
rule-utilitarian principle Just enunciated. An act is
AU-right if it produces at least as much net good as any
other act that could be performed.
^If everyone whose vote is superfluous votes at
personal sacrifice, the greatest net good is quite obvious
ly not going to be achieved in this or any election. It
; is assumed, of course, that it is not deemed desirable to
j win by as large a margin as possible. If it is far better
I for one's candidate to win by a landslide than Just to
! win, then no supporter's vote is inconsequential or super-
: fluous; accordingly, it would be both AU-right and RU-
I right for all to go to the polls, even those who are
, inconvenienced.
| even though my vote is inconsequential while act- j
utilitarianism does not.^ Brody's argument is this: If
500 supporters of the best candidate, including me, would
be inconvenienced by voting and only 11 of the 500 are
I
needed to win, each of the 500 voters could correctly say i
! that his vote is inconsequential and on the act-utilitarian
principle Justifiably stay home on election day. The
result would be defeat for the candidate. Rule-utilitari
anism, on the other hand, demands that all 500 voters go
to the polls on the grounds that if every inconsequential
vote, that is all 500 of them, were lost, the candidate
would lose. What Brody seems to have overlooked, however,
is that not a single one of the 500 votes is inconsequen
tial unless or until the best candidate has enough (or is
assured of enough) votes to win. As long as he is Just
one vote short, no vote uncast is inconsequential. In
sum, whether any man's vote is superfluous is determined
by whether the candidate has the votes necessary to win.
If he does, it is RU-right to abstain from voting Just as
it is AU-right to do so. If he does not, it is both RU and
AU-right to vote. If one stays home not knowing whether
his election is cinched and it turns out that he loses,
| one's act is AU-wrong. It is also RU-wrong because it is
66«The Equivalence of Act and Rule Utilitarian
ism," Philosophical Studies, XVIII (December, 1967)*
1 81-87.
!
I 183
I not a member of the class of Inconsequential votes the
!
I
non-casting of which maximizes utility. What if one does
| not know whether the candidate has the votes but stays
' home anyway and is later pleased to learn his candidate
i
did win? In that case one's staying home must be Judged
i
| to have been AU-right. Was it RU-right too? Yes, for
j one's vote belonged to the class of unnecessary votes the
casting of which would have resulted in less net utility.
| One's staying home may not, of course, be praiseworthy,
but that is another question. It should be further noted
that had one gone to the polls and one's candidate lost
anyway, one’s act would have to be labelled both AU and
RU-wrong. It would be AU-wrong becuase it has resulted
in nothing but inconvenience. It would be RU-wrong
because it is a member of a class of useless acts the
performance of which only diminishes net utility.
The utility of a man's vote clearly depends on
whether his vote is necessary; whether his vote is neces
sary depends on what others do. This means that a full
description of his act must take into account the relation
between it and the acts of others. Or to put the matter
another way, an act has the results that it does in virtue
I
jof belonging to a class of acts which stands in a certain
relation to other classes of acts. Were there but one act
or one class of acts, the total effect of any act performed
i
would be far different from what it usually is. Acts,
| 184
j then, have the utility they do In virtue of the relation
they have to other acts. If that In virtue of which an
act has particular utilitarian effects must be Included
I
; In the description of that act, then that act's relation
1 to other acts cannot be excluded from Its description.^?
i
I The position defended here is that for any act that is
! fully described, if it is right, all acts of the same
i
1 description will be right. Now Brody's mistake is that
he misdescribes. He leaves out of the description of each
act of voting what is (from the standpoint of its utility)
clearly essential to it, viz. the extent to which that
vote is necessary to insure victory. Had he included this
; in his description, he would not have found what is AU-
right to diverge from what is RU-right.
Whether a vote is needed is relevant to its
i
description, but whether it is or is not needed may not
6?For a utilitarian, an act is completely and
relevantly described only when its description includes
all its teleological properties, that is all those fea
tures in virtue of which the act has utilitarian effects.
These teleological properties constitute the full causal
character of the act. Now if the utility of an act
depends on its relation to other acts--as it surely does
; in such matters as voting or walking on the grass or
' paying taxes or watering the lawn--this relation is part
of the act's causal character and must be included in its
! description. This means that what others do is often
| relevant to the description of an act. Staying off the
grass when everybody else walks on it is not the same sort
1 of act as staying off the grass when everybody (or almost
, everybody) else does the same. It Is not the same sort
. of act because in the first Instance staying off the grass
1 has no utility while in the latter case it does.
I
| be known on election day, In which case the agent does
j
not know what Is the proper description of his act.
I
I Indeed, If the candidate wins by several votes, a person I
I i
i who casts his ballot may never know whether his vote was
necessary. Unless he is able to determine that the first j
i |
! eleven favorable votes were cast before his, he will have !
I to live with the uncertainty that, however admirable his
1 intentions may have been, he might have done what was AU
and RU-wrong (in the objective sense) by going to the
polls. If he stays home and his candidate loses, then
he will of course know that his vote was needed and that
his staying home was AU and RU-wrong.^9
(b) Someone may try to show that act-utilitarian
ism and rule-utilitarianism do not necessarily Justify the
j / T O
j doNo voter can know on or before election day
where his duty lies unless he knows that 11 persons out of
the 500 will go to the polls. If no one knows the inten
tions of anyone else, no voter will know whether he ought
: to cast his ballot on election day or stay home. This is
a hard saying, but I do not see how the utilitarian (act
or rule) can avoid it.
69lt may strike the reader as odd that the right
ness or wrongness of staying home from the polls depends
on what others do. And it is odd, for if A is Justified
j in having stayed home because B did not stay home, and if
B is Justified in having gone to the polls because A did
not go, then part of the Justification for A's having
j stayed home is his having stayed home. Now if this is the
j case, it ought to make sense to say, "What A did might
i have been wrong had he not done it or "If A had not
i stayed home, his staying home could have turned out to be
j wrong" or "Had A gone to the polls instead of staying
: home, his staying away from the polls might not have been
1 Justified." Surely these statements are absurd.
j same acts by calling attention to very simple but logic
ally possible social situations, situations in which it i
is not known what others are doing. Suppose, for example, j
i
two individuals, A and B, are placed in isolation booths,
! each of which is equipped with a button.?0 The conditions
! are these: if A and B both press the button at 10:00, 1
| i
j they will be given a nice lunch; if neither presses the
button at that hour, nothing happens; if one presses the
button and the other does not, both receive electric
shocks. In this situation--or so the argument may go--
the RU-right act is to press the button, since A and B's
conformity to the rule "Press the button at 10:00" has
the best consequences. But pressing the button at 10:00
may not be the AU-right act. Whether it is or isn't
; depends on what the other Individual does at 10:00. It
I
is AU-right for B to press the button at 10:00 if A also
presses the button. If A does not press the button, it is
AU-wrong for B to press it. Now let us change the situa
tion a bit, while keeping A and B in the isolation booths.
Instead of the old system of reward and punishment, we
, shall give them lunch when they both press the button at
10:00 and when they both refrain from doing so. Whenever
i
| one presses and the other does not, both shall receive
j
?°This example and the one that follows are
| borrowed from Allan P. Gibbard's article "Rule-Utilitari-
anism: Merely an Illusory Alternative?" Australasian Jour
nal of Philosophy, XLIII (August, 1965), 211-20.
I 187
| shocks. Now In this situation, when one is pressing the
button at 10:00, the AU-right act for the other is to have
! his button pressed also. When one is not pressing his
i
| button, the AU-right act for the other is to refrain from
pressing. But what is the RU-right act? Which class of i
I I
acts, those when the button is pressed or those when it is !
I not pressed, has the best consequences? Which rule, to
press or not to press, is most optlmific? Obviously,
neither rule is better than the other. So whether A
presses the button at 10:00 or refrains from doing so,
his act will be a member of a class of acts the perform
ance of which has not less than the best possible results.
Either act, therefore, is RU-right. But whether A's act
is AU-right depends on what B does. If at 10:00 A has his
j button depressed and B does not, while both men are doing
what is RU-right, neither is doing what is AU-right.
From these two examples it may be argued that in
cases where one does not know what others are doing, act-
utilitarianism and rule-utilitarianism do not necessarily
justify the same acts. Is this a valid claim? I suggest
; that it is not. A condition of equivalence can be seen to
obtain if it is not forgotten that what others are doing—
! whether or not one knows what they are doing— is relevant
i to the description of one's act and a determining factor
i in its proper classification. When this important factor
i is overlooked, the result is incorrect description and the
188
placement of the act In a class that is not sufficiently
specific. Now it is of course true that a person in an
isolation booth cannot know what others are doing and
consequently cannot know the effect his act will have.
But this only means that such a person, unlike an omni
scient observer, cannot give a complete description of
his own act at the moment he performs it. It does not
mean that what he does not know has no bearing on the
description of his act.?1 Later on, when he is taken
from the booth and appraised of the facts, he will know
what the complete description of his act was at the time
of its performance. That is, he will be able to say then
how he would have described his act when he was in the
booth had he been aware of all the facts at the time. To
make the same point in other words, if one knows what
others are doing or have done or will do, that knowledge
is helpful in describing accurately and classifying one's
act. But what others are doing or have done or will do is
(or at least may be) relevant to the description of one's
act whether or not one has knowledge of their behavior.
If due to ignorance of others' behavior one does not know
what effect his act will have, he will be unable to fully
^What he does not know would be irrelevant to
the description of his act only if that which he does not
know (in this case the relation between his act and the
act of another person) has no bearing on the utility of
his act.
i describe his act and to place it in its proper class.
I
But this does not mean one's act has no complete descrip-
! tion and falls into no specific class. In the isolation i
i
j booth situation it does, as any omniscient observer would
I clearly see. It is important to remember, then, that a
I !
; person's act may be of a certain description and fall into '
! i
! a certain class and conform to a certain rule even if he
is unaware of it. Now the rule-utilitarian thesis is
that the rightness or wrongness of an act depends on
whether it belongs to a class of acts (or falls under a
rule) that has utilitarian justification. If one's act
belongs to such a class or conforms to such a rule, his
; act is objectively right. Whether he is aware of the
class to which the act belongs or the rule to which it
: conforms is irrelevant to the rightness or wrongness of
the act. Keeping this in mind, let us consider again the
examples cited. Is It really the case that when A or B's
act is completely described and placed in its proper class
It will be found to be at once AU-right and RU-wrong or
vice versa?
To take the second example first, it is readily
apparent that the two rules "Have your button depressed
J at 10:00” and "Do not have your button depressed at 10:00"
I
i are, in the situation at hand, equally good rules. But
j It is not true that these rules are the best possible,
i that no better rule can be formulated to supplant them.
! 190 !
1 „ I
j The best rule would be this: Have your button down at !
10:00 when and only when the other person has his button ;
j down at 10:00." The class of acts which conforms to this !
I j
rule would have the most utility. Any act falling into I
this class would be both AU and RU-right, and any act j
I - i
falling outside this class would be both AU and RU-wrong.
! Since A's act either will or will not be a member of this
i
j class, his act with be AU-right and RU-right or it will
be AU-wrong and RU-wrong. And the same will be true of
B's act. The class of acts where one has his button
depressed when the other does not always has undesirable
consequences. And a class of acts which always has
undesirable consequences cannot be RU-right. So it is
not sufficient for B's act to be RU-right that he have
his button down at 10:00. If at 10:00 B has his button
i
pressed and A does not, neither act is AU-right or RU-
right. Neither act produces lunch and neither act belongs
to a class of acts that produces lunch. But if at the
appointed hour both are either pressing their button or
not pressing their button, their acts are AU and RU-right.
I Their acts are AU-right because they produce lunch; their
acts are RU-right because all acts that fall into this
I
! particular class and only these acts, produce lunch.
i
1 With respect to the first example, the class of
| acts which has the greatest utility consists of those acts
I
where one is pressing the button at 10:00 when and only
I when the other is pressing the button at 10:00. If A and
! B are both pressing the button at 10:00, both acts are
AU-right because lunch results. Both acts are also RU-
i
right because all acts in this class produce lunch. If
i
one is pressing the button at 10:00 and the other is not, j
j j
both acts are AU-wrong because they result in shocks;
i they are RU-wrong because all acts of this class produce
shocks. If neither is pressing the button at 10:00, each
man's act is AU-right and RU-right. Now this last state
ment may sound strange and the complaint may be raised,
"Since it is obviously better when both press their button
than when both refrain from doing so (for when both refrain
nothing happens), how can it be said that when both refrain
from pressing, each is doing what is RU-right?" The answer
' is this: though the consequences are better when both men
press than when neither man does, it is nonetheless true
that in all cases where the one refrains from pushing his
button, the best results are always obtained when the
other refrains too. In short, whenever the conditions are
such that the one does not have his button down, the RU-
right act for the other Is to have his button up. Circum
stances make a difference, and in these particular circum-
! stances, this class of acts has the best results
i
achievable.
! It is not true, then, that it is always RU-right
| to have one's button pressed at 10:00. Whether it is or
; 192
| is not depends on whether the other person has his button
l
pressed. The consequences of having one's button down
when the other does not are always undesirable. This
i
class of acts has the worst possible results, and a class
of acts that has the worst possible results cannot be RU- j
! right. The matter can be put this way: the class of acts !
where the button is pressed is too broad. This class
contains within it two important subclasses: (l) pressing
the button when the other person is doing the same (which
results in lunch), and (2) pressing the button when the
other person is not pressing his (which results in shocks).
What is needed is a rule that Justifies (or makes RU-right)
the first class of acts but not the second. The rule
"Press the button at 10:00" Justifies acts falling into
both classes; hence it is not the best possible utilitarian
rule. The rule that makes only the first class of acts
RU-right must be formulated this way: "Press the button
only when the other person does the same."72 Now this
means that when the conditions are such that the other
person refrains from pressing his button, the RU-right act
is to refrain from pressing one's own. For under these
specific conditions, one's act and all acts like it (that
. ■ - ■
?2The rule obviously could not read "Press your
: button only when the other person is already pressing his,"
for if both individuals, wittingly or unwittingly, did the
RU-right thing by conforming to this rule, no lunch would
j be served. Thus, this rule is not one conformity to which
j by everyone would have the best consequences.
i ’ 193
i
I is to say all such acts performed under the same conditions
i
or all acts of the same description) will have the best
possible results achievable. Since under these particular
I 1
less-than-ideal conditions, lunch cannot possibly be
obtained, the best state of affairs achievable is that
I '
nothing happen or that shocks be avoided. It cannot be
! desirable, then, that A always do what would have good
[
results provided that B always acted in a certain way when
the situation is such that B will not always act in this
way and when this insures that A's always doing what would
bring good results under ideal conditions will only bring
disaster under many of the actual ones. It has to be
remembered that what is RU-right, no less than what is
AU-right, depends upon the conditions that prevail, which
; quite often (and perhaps most of the time) are not ideal.
!
Once this is recognized, act-utilitarianism and rule-
utilitarianism will be seen to countenance identical acts.
V
54. Utilitarianism is sometimes said to have
implications for practice that few, if any, are willing
to accept. If we ought always to do that which produces
the most net good, it follows that
we are doing wrong whenever we are relaxing, since on
those occasions there will always be opportunities to
produce greater good than we can by relaxing. For the
relief of suffering is always a greater good than mere
| enjoyment. Yet it is quite plain that the worker, who,
! after a tiring day, puts on his slippers and listens
to the radio is not doing anything he ought not
to . . . even though it may be perfectly true that
there are things he might do which produce more good
in the world, even for himself, than mere relaxing by
the fireside.'3
Now the rule-utilitarian can reply that so long as my
relaxing does not conflict with a specific moral rule, I
do no wrong in relaxing. If at the end of a hard day I
choose to read a book of trash instead of Plato, or if I
decide to see a movie rather than to visit the sick and
shut-in, I may not merit praise, but I am not amiss in my
duty either. That there are no duties where there are no
specific moral rules that apply is, then, the view of the
pure rule-utilitarian.7^ But while this position saves
the utilitarian from having to admit it is nearly always
wrong to indulge in relaxation, it is not immune from
difficulties of its own.
55. (l) To say there is never a duty where there
is no secondary moral rule covering the situation raises
the question of when there is and isn't a secondary moral
rule. If there Is no specific rule that applies to my
relaxing when I could be doing something that produces
more good, is there also no moral rule that requires of me
73]3aier, The Moral Point of View, p. 109.
7^That this was in fact the view of John Stuart
Mill, who is usually thought of as an act-utilitarian, is
argued by J. 0. Urmson in his article "The Interpretation
of the Moral Philosophy of J. S. Mill," Philosophical
Quarterly, III (January, 1953), 33-39.
195
I that I provide for my family as best I am able, or that I
!
carry some life insurance to protect my family, or that I
| forego the newspaper to help my wife with the dishes when
I
she is dog-tired at the end of a hard day? I and perhaps
j
most people think that these are moral obligations, that
| to fail to do these things is wrong. What can the rule-
i
1 utilitarian say? He may say that we are simply mistaken
i
I
i in finding moral obligations here, that since no moral
rules apply in these situations no wrong can arise from
them either. Or he may agree with us that failure or
negligence in these areas is wrong. Now if the latter is
his view, he will have to specify the secondary moral
rules that apply. But if he lays out the particular rules
i
(justified by the utility principle) that cover these
situations, on what grounds does he deny that there are no
t
rules that apply to relaxing or reading trash when one
could be doing something more constructive? Surely if
these other rules have utilitarian justification, rules
prohibiting unnecessary relaxation and the reading of
questionable literature have just as much. How the pure
i rule-utilitarian would respond to this criticism I am at
a loss to say. What is clearly needed, but what he fails
to supply, is a criterion by means of which it may be
I determined when there is and when there is not a legiti-
: mate moral rule. Though he insists that all legitimate
j rules must have utilitarian justification, he does not
| want to recognize as legitimate all rules that have
utilitarian support. So the question remains, of those
' rules that may be defended on the basis of their utility,
i
why are some legitimate and others not? How shall we know
if a rule is or is not a moral rule?
j
56. (2) If, as the pure rule-utilitarian believes,1
| an act is right if, and only if, it conforms to a second-
j
ary rule, what is to be the policy if an act falls under
two such rules, one enjoining the act, the other forbidding
it. Suppose I learn of a secret and promise not to divulge
it. Later on in a court of law where I have sworn to tell
the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, it
is demanded that I reveal the content of that secret. If
I observe the moral rule enjoining the keeping of promises,
1 I shall not be telling the whole truth; if I tell the
whole truth as I have sworn to do, I shall be breaking
my promise to keep the secret. What should I do? For
one who believes that in order to know whether an act is
right one need look no further than the particular rule
covering it, this has to be a baffling question. But
though the pure rule-utilitarian is helpless here, the
mixed version of rule-utilitarianism does profess to
; offer a solution.
57. The mixed version of rule-utilitarianism
; escapes difficulties (l) and (2), for it acknowledges the
1 utility principle as one of the moral rules that must
197 I
I I
always be taken Into account. On this view, the utility j
principle serves a double function. It is in the first j
| place the primary rule which Justifies all secondary moral j
I
j rules. In the second place, the utility principle func-
| tions Just as (or is on a par with) all the secondary i
! rules. Consequently, in cases where no secondary moral
rule applies, the rule "Act so as to produce the greatest
! net good" always will. Hence--to return to our examples—
I
even though there might be no established rule to the
effect that I ought to carry life insurance, provide to
the best of my ability for my family, and on occasion
help my wife with the dishes, still it is my duty to do
; so because the rule "Do what produces the best overall
consequences" always applies.
j Similarly, when an act falls under two established
i
' rules, one enjoining and the other forbidding it, the
mixed rule-utilitarian is obligated to follow whichever
rule has the best consequences, or if they are estimated
to have equally good consequences, to make his decision
on the basis of the utility of the particular act.
58. But the mixed version, though it successfully
avoids some difficulties of the pure version, has diffi-
I
| culties of its own. Consider its implications:
i 59* (l) If I spend an evening idly or decide to
j watch a frivolous movie, I am doing what is morally wrong,
j for though I am not violating any secondary moral rule,
198 i
j I am violating the general rule "Always do what produces j
! |
the most good." j
60. (2) The mixed version still doesn't account j
1 for all the duties we commonly recognize. If I do not J
try to shield my wife on the occasion of an Impending auto J
1 i
accident, I am not, according to this view, failing in my 1
! duty. At least it is not likely that I should be, since
no studies have shown the results are usually best if
one tries to protect one’s wife on such occasions.
Neither is it likely that in any particular case more
good will result if I Jeopardize my own chances for sur
vival by trying to save her. Still I cannot help but
| think that it is my duty to try to protect my wife in such
a situation even if it could be shown that my efforts
would only slightly improve her chances for survival while
more substantially reducing my own.
We conclude, therefore, that neither the pure nor
the mixed version of rule-utilitarianism is adequate.
61. We have just seen that the rule-utilitarian
has a difficult time in saying Just what role the utility
principle has in his theory. It does not seem satisfac
tory to say its only function is that of a criterion of
| secondary moral rules; nor does it seem any more accept
able to place the utility principle on a par with the
j rules it justifies. Still another difficulty in achieving
a credible formulation of rule-utilitarianism is that of
j establishing the kind of secondary moral rules which are
to serve as the criteria of right acts.
62. If in deciding the rightness or wrongness of
; particular acts we are not to appeal directly to the
principle of utility but to moral rules instead, the
I
I
question arises, to which rules shall we appeal? The
most natural answer to this question is to say we ought to
follow rules that are ideally felicific, that is those
rules which have the greatest utilitarian Justification.
The difficulties with this answer are (l) Each society has
different moral rules and the average individual has
neither the opportunity to acquaint himself with all these
; rules nor the ability to evaluate them in terms of their
respective utility; and (2) It is possible that the best
' moral rules, that is those that would have the very best
i
consequences were they generally followed, have not yet
been discovered. In view of this, the better course would
seem to be that of making the criterion of rightness the
set of moral prescriptions that are in force in one's
own society.^ These, after all, are the only ones the
average person will ever hear about or can be expected to
! ^That the moral rules in one's own society are the
! criteria of rightness is the view of Stephen Toulmin: "If
j it [the act in questionJ is an action which is an unambig
uous instance of a maxim generally accepted in the commu-
; nity concerned, it will be right Just because it iis an
i instance of such a maxim." An Examination of the Place
! of Reason in Ethics (Cambridge: Cambridge University
| ftress, 1968), p. 154.
j -- - - - 200 I
i
I
j learn. Moreover, these rules are bound to have at least
some utilitarian Justification insofar as almost any set
1 of moral rules is better than none.
!
■ 63. To say, however, that in Judging particular
acts as right or wrong one should rely entirely on the j
i I
I rules or practices of one's own society has grave implica- ■
i tions. (l) It implies that the Nazi could give a valid
1
1 moral reason for exterminating Jews by pointing to the
prevailing practice. (2) Assuming that it was an accepted
rule in the Old South that slaves who ran away should be
flogged mercilessly, it would have been wrong for any
slave owner to give lesser punishment to a runaway slave.
(3) Assuming again that in the Soviet Union the rule is
"Inform on your family and friends if you know they do
; not agree with government policy," it follows that any
I
Soviet citizen who fails to inform is negligent in his
duty. A further consequence is this: Since in the United
States we have no such rule, it follows that the Soviet
citizen is obligated to act as a spy for the government
while the U. S. citizen is not
T6It
cannot be doubted that societies recognize
different moral rules, some of which are questionable to
| say the least. In some societies it has been thought a
| duty to put one's parents to death when they reach old age.
i In other societies it has been thought right for a man to
avenge the death of his father, even though he was killed
; in self-defense. Do these so-called moral miles establish
: what is really right and wrong in any community that
| accepts them? That a person must find out which moral
I rules are in force in the society in which he lives and
! 201
I
j Hence it would appear that conformity to an
accepted rule is neither a sufficient nor a necessary
i condition for an act to be right. If it were a necessary
l
; condition, the Soviet citizen acts wrongly when he refuses
to inform on his family and friends. If It were a suffi-
i
cient condition, the slave owner would do right by merci-
! lessly beating his errant servant.
64. There is, of course, a way for the rule-
utilitarian to escape these difficulties. He may say we
have a moral obligation to obey only those rules that are
best. If such is the case, the Soviet citizen does no
wrong when he refuses to inform, for the rule he violates
does not have full utilitarian justification. Similarly
with the Nazi who refuses to help exterminate Jews and
| the slave owner who delivers less than maximum punishment
i
to his slave. But if the mile-utilitarian says we have a
duty to obey only the best rules, he has to face the
following objections.
65. (l) The first objection is that he has
largely forsaken his theory in that he now admits it is
that all these rules, and only these rules, are binding
■ for him is not a very palatable doctrine. It implies that
any American forced to reside in a particularly savage
j community in the Interior of Africa would be duty-bound
I to lop off the heads of neighboring tribesmen and to take
' for himself their wives and possessions. Assuming this is
| thought to be the duty of every man in the community,
i anyone living in the community who refuses to engage in
1 this practice would be doing what is wrong.
j 202
not sufficient to look only to the rules in force (or
those he knows about) to decide whether an act is right j
! or wrong. Or as McCloskey puts It:
I
| If we should be right in conforming only when the
practice is the best possible practice, we should not
| often be able, in order to have a good moral reason, j
i to point to the fact that we are conforming with a i
| practice. That is to say, the move that characterizes 1
! restricted utilitarianism could seldom be made; and .
i equally important, it could rarely be known that it i
| could be made.'' j
1 I
66. (2) Secondly, to hold that the criteria of
right acts are only the best rules is, as B. J. Diggs
says, "to invite disagreement concerning which rules are
best, and to have no effective rule at all."78
67. (3) As has already been suggested, the best
i set of males may not even be known. Indeed, it is highly
; improbable that such a set has been formulated to date.
I Nor is it at all likely one will be formulated. At least
the prospects are not good for the foreseeable future if
what is wanted is an ideal set of prescriptions for a
society as complex as our own. Now this poses a problem,
for If we say right acts are those which conform to the
best set of rules, we are probably setting up as the
77"An Examination of Restricted Utilitarianism,"
j p. 136.
! 78" Rules and Utilitarianism," in Contemporary
: Utilitarianism, ed. by Michael D. Bayles, Anchor Books
(Garden City, N. Y.: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1968),
; p. 213.
! ’ .... " " ’ ’ ~ " ' 203 j
| criterion of rightness an unknown (and quite possibly an
I
unknowable) ideal.
' 68. (^) There can be little doubt that an ideal j
; set of prescriptions would be very long and complicated. J
I j
There are several reasons for this. Firstly, as Brandt ;
| points out, "every act . . . which maximizes utility does i
i so because of some doubtless very complex property that j
i it has."79 This by itself insures that an ideal set of
rules will not be few in .umber, for in constructing these
l
rules, all the properties in virtue of which acts have
utilitarian effects will have to be taken into account.
Each teleologically significant property or set of such
properties will form the basis for a description of a
j
class of acts. This means there will be as many classes
; of acts as there are teleological properties or specific
|
combinations of them. Since each of these classes will
be covered by a rule, there will be as many rules as there
are types or classes of acts the performance of which has
some degree of utility. Secondly, a complete set of
prescriptions will have to contain higher-order prescrip
tions which specify how conflicts between lower-order
prescriptions are to be settled. And as Brandt is quick
l
| to recognize, "these conflict-resolving prescriptions
i might themselves conflict with each other; and if they
i 7 9 » i > o w a r ( } a Credible Form of Utilitarianism,"
! p. 163.
L___________________________ _____________
j 204 J
' i
| may, then obviously there must be even more complex and j
1 l
specific prescriptions added to the list, if it is to be j
1 ftn I
complete."ou Thirdly, almost every prescription in an !
I
ideal set of them will have to contain numerous excep
tions.®1 How many exceptions will have to be built into |
i
I each rule? That will depend in part on the type of !
! society one is considering. It is reasonable to suppose
I
that in a complex society where the Individual often has
several roles to play there will be more opportunity for
competing obligations to arise than would be the case in
a simpler society. But any set of rules, to be at all
complete, will have to make allowance for as many excep
tions as there are possibilities within society for the
rules to conflict. Fourthly, each rule must contain an
| exception for every situation in which a greater good
i
would be achieved were everyone to follow a different or
more specific rule. That is to say, into every rule the
qualification "to be followed except under conditions
c, d, e, f, . . . where more good will be produced if
®^Ethlcal Theory, p. 399*
®iThat the most optimific set of rules or prac
tices would have to contain numerous exceptions there can
i be little doubt. This itself poses a problem for the rule-
! utilitarian, as McCloskey is quick to point out: "My
! impression is that if all the exceptions and conditions
hinted at by some utilitarians as being part of the prac-
I tice are indeed part of the practice, then there is little
j left of the practice at all. "An Examination of
j Restricted Utilitarianism," p. 140.
I 205
j everyone follows a different rule or a more qualified
i
version of this one" will have to be introduced. In
| short, the best set of moral rules may well contain so
I
; many built-in exceptions that the rules could not be
j learned and possibly not even stated. And If that Is the
I case, it follows that one could never confidently assume
! an act is right or wrong, for the act might fall under
i
one of the unknown or unstated exceptions to a rule. To
set up as the criterion of rightness a set of rules that
may be neither learnable nor statable is hardly
satisfactory.
69. (5) The claim that one ought to follow only
; the best rules is ambiguous. It may mean, on the one
hand, that one ought to follow the set of rules which is
productive of the best consequences given the conditions
i
that actually prevail. If this is what is meant, then,
as has been seen, the implications of rule-utilitarianism
are no different from those of act-utilitarianism.®2 The
claim that one ought to act in accordance with the best
set of prescriptions may mean, on the other hand, that
i right (or obligatory) acts are those required by that set
of rules that has the best consequences under ideal condi-
l
! tions. If this is the Intended meaning, act and rule-
i
; utilitarianism will not always have the same implications
| ®2Above p. 179*
i " ‘ ‘ ' ” ~ ~ 206
i !
for practice; but the view that we have a duty to observe j
I
only ideally utilitarian rules--that is to say those rules j
| which, if adopted by everyone, would maximize utility-- !
I
runs into serious difficulty once it is realized that to
observe these rules under some conditions (e.g. in j
| |
: societies where no one else does) may have very bad 1
' I
1 consequences. On this interpretation of the rule-
utilitarian principle, acts that can be expected to have
disastrous consequences may still be RU-right. What would
we say of a person who, having concluded that it would be
best if everyone drove on the right side of the road,
thinks himself under obligation to always drive on the
| right side and proceeds to do so, even in those countries
where everybody else drives on the left? As this example
| makes plain, to observe ideal rules when no one else does
i
may be tragic in its results. Now presumably the point
of observing ideal rules is to maximize utility. But to
observe an ideal rule when the conditions are such that
doing so will only diminish net utility is not to act in
a way that directly or indirectly maximizes utility,
j The weakness in this view is nicely illustrated
by Brandt. He calls attention to a rule of the Hopi
| society which assigns the responsibility for taking care
! of an old man to the children of his sisters. It seems
| rather obvious that this particular rule is not the best
I one, that a much better rule would be one that requires
| the children of an old man to bear the primary responsi
bility for looking after him. But as Brandt remarks,
J it would be unfortunate if the members of a Hopi man's
I native household--primarily his sisters and their
families— decided that their presently recognized
obligation had no standing on this account, since the
result would be that as things now stand, no one at
j all would take the responsibility,®3
| Brandt's argument is this: If one person (or a very few
j
I persons) observes ideally utilitarian rules (i.e. rules
1
I that would have the best consequences were everyone to
accept them) in an imperfect society where the conditions
are such that most persons follow quite different rules,
the consequences may be appalling. In this he is surely
right. Now if the point of observing ideal rules is to
I maximize utility, to observe these rules under these
; circumstances is simply self-defeating. Lyons' succinctly
stated argument gets to the core of the matter. He writes:
(l) The point of (IRU) is to maximize utility. (2)
But there are some cases where applying and acting
upon (IRU) will not yield the best possible conse
quences, that is, when (IRU) is not generally accepted.
(3) Thus (IRU) cannot be an acceptable moral principle,
since in some cases (that is, when it is not generally
accepted--which is the normal state of affairs) apply
ing and acting upon (IRU) would be self-defeating
i Not only is such a procedure self-defeating, it is also
absurd. Consider the following analogy. Suppose you
drive a car which, when it stalls, takes four persons
! ^ _ _ _ _ _ _ _______
i ”
i ®3"Toward a Credible Form of Utilitarianism,"
I p. 170.
j Q^Forms and Limits of Utilitarianism, p. 142.
H ""..... ' ~ 2081
i I
I pushing it on level ground to get it going again. One
i
day your car stalls on level ground as you and four pas-
J sengers are enroute to a concert. You proceed to tell
i
i the passengers that they must all get out and push if
!
f they are to reach their destination. Only one of the i
j i
; four is willing, however; the others are stubborn and !
! flatly refuse. Now would it not be downright silly for
i
i the one co-operative passenger, who is fully aware that
if he pushes alone he shall only wear himself out, to
reason that it is right (his duty) to get out and push
anyway on the grounds that the best results would be
forthcoming if everyone did?®5 One thing is clear: any
utilitarian who persists in this sort of reasoning has
abandoned the hardheaded practicality which traditionally
; has been a characteristic feature of the utilitarian ethic,
®^cf. Gibbard's remark: "Rule-utilitarianism will
demand that each person do what would be best if everyone
else were to co-operate, no matter how much harm it does
when everyone else is not co-operating." "Rule-Utilitari-
anism: Merely an Illusory Alternative?" p. 216. Since to
follow a set of ideal rules in an imperfect society is to
produce less than the best possible consequences in some
cases, it is abundantly clear that ideal rule-utilitarian
ism (IRU) is not extensionally equivalent to act-utilitar-
ianism. For to succeed in doing the AU-right act is in
every case to do what produces the best consequences, while
to succeed in doing the IRU-act is in some cases to produce
j less than the best possible consequences. Put another way,
; acts that are AU-right always produce not less than the
j best results achievable; IRU-right acts always produce not
' less than the best results only when society is perfect or
j when the conditions are ideal. But while ideal rule-
: utilitarianism is a genuine alternative to act-utilitari-
| anism, it is not a theory with which the utilitarian can
i be at all happy.
209
j since he is obviously no longer concerned with the actual
i
consequences of his acts, but only with the hypothetical
! consequences of a non-existent practice.
It is clearly a mistake, then, to make a rule or I
I a set of rules that has utilitarian Justification only
| under ideal conditions the criterion of right and duty !
i when those conditions do not prevail. Any rule-utilitarian!
| who takes this extreme position ignores the fact that
classes of acts are description relative and that what
others will do and the rules they will follow determine in
large measure which classes of acts and which rules have
utilitarian justification.
70. (6) It has been convincingly argued by
Gibbard that "rules suitable for a society where people
always do the right thing may bring disaster if followed
in a society where people sometimes do the wrong thing."00
For instance, in a perfect society presumably no one would
steal without a justifiable reason. Hence, a set of
prescriptions for such a society might well include a
rule to the effect that anyone who steals a loaf of bread
: without a good reason is to be executed. Since no one
would break the rule, not less than the best possible
I consequences would arise from everyone's accepting it.
i But as Gibbard points out, "in any actual society where
j — 1 ' " F
i 86"Rule-Utilitarianism: Merely an Illusory
! Alternative?" p. 217.
I 210
I
I
j people do steal loaves of bread It would be barbarous to
I
follow a set of rules which called for hanging the unfor-
i tunate person."®7 This leaves the ideal rule-utilitarian
I
j in a most untenable position. Not only does his theory
i
Justify a rule prescribing capital punishment for petty
I
. theft, it permits him, in Sobel's words, to be "indifferent’
! to those situations that would not arise were men . . .
always well-behaved."®® Since in a world where everybody
i
does the right thing no one would hold up banks or murder
his wife, a set of rules specifying death for such acts
would be Just as useful as a set of rules prescribing only
a public apology. So long as no one breaks the rules, it
! matters not which set of rules is adopted. But in the
I
rough and tumble world in which we live it makes a great
! deal of difference which set of rules is adopted. Moral
' theory is expected to apply in this world where men are
not always well-behaved. In the present world many moral
decisions arise as a result of rules that have been broken.
Ideal rule-utilitarianism offers no account of how these
infractions are to be handled. Or perhaps a better way to
i put it would be to say that with respect to a great many
moral problems that arise in this world ideal rule-utili-
I —
| tarianism Justifies practically any decision whatever.
I
! ®7lbld., p. 218.
| ®®Jordan H. Sobel, "Rule-Utllitarianism." Austral-
! asian Journal of Philosophy, XLVI (August, 1968), 155.
71. (7) Universal acceptance of different sets
of moral rules may have equally good consequences, and lde-
j al rule-utilitarianism provides no criterion for choosing
f
i among these competing sets. One set of moral rules--let
us call it set A— may be like set B in every respect
| except that set A prescribes a severe penalty for wanton
j cruelty while set B prescribes a light one. Since both
i sets prohibit injuring another person without a good
reason, conformity to either set by everyone would have
identical results. Thus, it matters not which set is
followed. Set C may be exactly like set B except that
it contains a specific rule to the effect that anyone
from Maine who evades the draft shall be shot, while a
t
draft dodger from any other state shall be given one year
in Jail. Set D may vary from set C only in that it has
i
a rule against draft dodging that applies equally to all
states. Sets A and B, we shall assume, have no rule
against draft dodging at all. Because there would be no
wars, Just as there would be no malicious cruelty, in a
world where no one injures another without a Justifying
reason, universal acceptance of any one of the four sets
of rules would have not less than the best possible
| consequences.®9
; 89Gibbard and Sobel agree that there are equally
; useful alternative sets of moral rules, but whereas
| Gibbard does not doubt the existence of RU-right acts,
I Sobel does. Sobel thinks that rule-utilitarianism
212
I
The fact that there may be several sets of moral
rules acceptance of which by everyone would maximize j
| I
I utility presents the ideal rule-utilitarian with a serious
;
| problem. The problem is this: What is to be done when
! the greatest good cannot be achieved unless everyone
! accepts the same set of rules? Suppose we have two sets
! of rules which, when followed by everyone, are equally
1 useful. One set, however, requires that everyone drive
! on the right side of the road. The other set requires
'
that everyone drive on the left side of the road. (It
matters not, let us assume, which side of the road people
drive on, so long as they all drive on the same side.)
: Now if conformity to a set of rules is right if only not
less than the best results would be achieved if everyone
followed that set of rules, there are obviously no grounds
i
| for a decision between the two sets of rules. Half of the
drivers may elect to drive on the right side of the road
and the other half may decide to drive on the left. The
consequences will be catastrophic, but every driver will
be doing What is IRU-right.
, presupposes there is only one set of ideal prescriptions
conformity to which by everyone would have the best
i possible results. Since there are equally optlmific sets
! of ideal rules, no unique set of rules exists; hence, no
i act can be RU-right. Since RU-right acts do not exist,
i rule-utilitarianism has, Sobel says, no practical impli-
; cations; it is not a substantive alternative to act-
i utilitarianism.
I
72. Since it is not satisfactory to say either
(l) that we ought to take as the criteria of rightness
only rules that are ideally utilitarian, or (2) that we
ought to follow only those rules which our society recog
nizes, some sort of compromise between these two might be
more acceptable. We have such a formulation of the rule-
utilitarian principle from Brandt. He writes:
The compromise I propose is this: that the test
whether an act is right is whether it is compatible
with that set of rules which, were it to replace the
moral commitments of members of the actual society
at the time, except where there are already fairly
decided moral convictions, would maximize utility.90
Or again:
An act is right if and only if it conforms with that
learnable set of rules, the recognition of which as
morally binding, roughly at the time of the act, by
all actual people insofar as these rules are not
incompatible with existing fairly decided moral commit
ments, would maximize intrinsic value.91
73. Difficulties arise from Brandt's proposal as
soon as it is realized (l) that any set of rules that is
learnable and which could get itself widely accepted in
a normal community would have to be quite simple and
contain few exceptions. Rules of this sort are apt to be
far from optimiflc. (2) It must not be forgotten that
what one person finds learnable, another does not. If
90«Toward a Credible Form of Utilitarianism,"
pp. 171-72.
9!lbid., p. 172. Also see the formulations on
pp. 178-79TIB4.
the criterion is to be general leamabllity, it follows
that the priest or professor can have moral rules no more
complex or discriminating than those which could be under-
i
stood and applied by the average carpenter or garbage
i
collector. (3) We may think we have an obligation when
l
| everyone else is convinced we do not. How do we reconcile ■
I this feeling with the belief that all our duties are
defined by a community's learnable rules? It would seem,
on the view before us, that a man can have no obligations
which go beyond those which are (or could be) generally
recognized in the actual community to which he belongs.
(4) The hybrid set of rules Brandt suggests as the
criterion of right action is to some extent the product
of non-utilitarian considerations. As Lyons points out,
we find that one of the strongest features of moral
beliefs in societies like ours is a sensitivity to
unfairness and injustice. Consequently, the validated
set of miles for such a society will be determined in
part, not merely by considerations of utility, but
also by considerations of Justice and fairness. On
such a theory as (CRU), therefore, non-utilitarian
factors are introduced indirectly.92
Surely it cannot be wholly pleasant for a rule-utilitarian
to have to admit that non-utilitarian factors exercise a
formative influence in the construction of a set of
; utilitarian rules.
i
!
74. We have seen that it is not easy to satis-
, factorily state the principle of rule-utilitarianism.
j-----------------------
9^Forms and Limits of Utilitarianism, p. 143.
215
| But even if we could arrive at a formulation which escapes
i
the difficulties we have already mentioned, I believe
| there would still be insurmountable objections.
75. (l) Frankena gives us the first one:
' Suppose we have two rules, R1 and R2, which cannot
j both be made part of our society morality. Suppose I
! further that in the case of each rule we know the !
results of everyone's always acting on that rule
i (in practice, of course, there would be great diffi
culties in knowing this) and that when we compute,
as best we can, the values of those results, we find
that the score is even--in both cases we obtain the
same balance of good over evil in the long run for
the universe as a whole. Then the rule utilitarian
must say that R1 and R2 will serve equally well as
principles of right and wrong and there is no basis
for choosing between them. But it still may be that
they distribute the amount of good realized in dif
ferent ways: acting on R1 may give all of the good
to a relatively small group of people without any
merit on their part (to let merit count at this point
is already to give up utilitarianism), while R2 may
spread the good more equally over a larger part of
the population. In this case, it seems to me that we
must and would say that R1 is an unjust rule and that
R2 is morally preferable. If this is so, we must give
up even rule utilitarianism.93
76. (2) Frankena has argued that the rule-
utilitarian is unable to Justify a fair or equitable
distribution of goods based on merit. And if, as I think,
the fundamental idea of Justice is fairness, 9** it follows
93wiiiiam K. Frankena, Ethics (Englewood Cliffs,
N. J.: Prentice-Hall, Inc., 19&3), p. 33. Again, it must
! not be forgotten that the method of collecting goods for
| distribution is not morally neutral. Goods that are in
i one way or other stolen are never Justly distributed.
i 9^This Is Rawls' view. See his article "Justice
as Fairness," Philosophical Review, LXVII (April, 1958),
164-94. It is clear on the basis of this article that
Rawls doesn't support rule-utilitarianism wholeheartedly
j that the rule-utilitarian is not able to give a satisfac
tory account of Justice either. To put the matter another j
! way, if it is difficult for the utilitarian to ground j
' *
i i
i obligatoriness in the utility principle, it is even more
! difficult (and I think impossible) to derive the principle
j i
| of Justice from the utility principle. For if the prin-
i
| ciple of Justice were a corollary of the utility principle,
I
or deducible from it, they would never be able to conflict.
That they do (or at least may) conflict can, I believe,
be shown with three examples.
(a) Suppose I have been accused of a crime and all
the evidence points to my guilt. I am, however, innocent.
: But since I have no alibi and all the evidence is against
me, the Jury convicts me and the Judge sentences me to
i
; prison. I do not blame them. Had I been on the Jury and
; another man in my place, I would have voted with the Jury.
Surely, as I myself admit, it is best for society if those
with trials such as mine are found guilty and given prison
terms for they will almost certainly be guilty. Does this
mean that I am therefore Justly punished? If what is Just
; is always in accord with the utility principle, I am being
Justly punished. This is to say, if Justice is a corollary
! because he thinks the thoroughgoing rule-utilitarian is
i unable to account for the principle of Justice. In a
i footnote on p. 168, Rawls says explicitly that he does
: not believe either act or rule-utilitarianism Is an
| adequate theory.
[“ " ' ' ' 217
I of the utility principle, whether I deserve to be punished
or not, whether I am Innocent or not, has nothing to do
with my being Justly punished. If we think otherwise, we
I
must concede that the utility principle and the principle
| of Justice are independent of one another.
S (b) To secure the good results of winning a war,
I it is not necessary that everybody take the same risks
or make the same sacrifices. Indeed, it would not be
desirable from the standpoint of utility if everybody did.
Were the president, all government officials, all military
strategists, as well as every able-bodied person to Join
actively in the fighting, the war would probably be lost.
Yet it is hardly fair (or Just) that only some serve and
I
that those who incur the ri3ks and make the sacrifices
benefit only as much from winning the war (and much less
if they are killed or maimed) as the great majority who
stay home. Here is a case where the requirements of fair
ness and the duty to maximize utility come into direct
collision. It is, of course, difficult to know Just what
fairness demands in this sort of situation. Presumably
: it would require at a minimum (l) that every able-bodied
person (with the possible exception of those who have
| fought in a previous war) take the same risks, preferably
: on the battlefield; and (2) that those who shoulder the
| greatest burden and make the sacrifices reap the greatest
j 218
j profit.95 Neither requirement is enjoined by the utility
l
principle, however. Now if the country can be saved only
; by an unfair policy (i.e. by a policy which compels some
; to take up arms while exempting others), it is perhaps
best that a minority of the citizens be conscripted and
i
| exploited for the benefit of the great majority. But the
i
I
1 point to be stressed--and it should be obvious— is this:
that in time of grave national peril, a policy which is
completely fair can have much less utility than one which
is decidedly unfair, and that in view of this fairness
cannot be accounted a second-order principle derivable
from the utility principle.
(c) Suppose the leaders of a powerful unscupulous
nation think that one of our government officials, say an
! ambassador, has offended its nation’s dignity by refusing
I
to shake the hand of its Minister of War. They demand
that our government recall this ambassador and summarily
try and execute him. If that is not done, they warn, an
atomic bomb will be dropped on one of our large cities.
Suppose we are a weak nation, utterly unable to defend
i ourselves against such an attack. Assume further that
this country has on past occasions carried out similar
i
I threats.
i
j 95iphere is one obvious difficulty here, viz.,
: that those who make the supreme sacrifice gain nothing
| from the victory they make possible. This means that
I complete fairness in war is an unattainable ideal.
n .....* ~ 219
!
j Now regrettable as It may be, I think most of us
l
would consider It our duty to have this ambassador executed
as this country demands, so long as that Is the only way
i
I to prevent great loss of Innocent life In a major city.
I
| We might even say, given these circumstances, that It
| would be right to execute the ambassador. Or we might
| prefer to say It would be wrong to do so, but our duty to
do so nonetheless. Maybe we would consider It an excus
able wrong. But I do not think we would ever consider
calling It Just.
To put the matter another way, It may be our
(utilitarian) duty to do what we think Is unfair or unjust.
But If Justice Is a corollary of the utility principle,
i
; that Is derivable from It, then It could never be our
! (utilitarian) duty to perform an unjust act. Justice
must therefore be an Independent principle. And If so,
when considering the obligatoriness of an act we shall
have to take both the principle of Justice and the princi
ple of utility Into account. Since most of the time they
do not conflict, we shall not often have to choose between
; them. But when they do conflict, there Is no higher
principle to help us decide. If only slightly more good
J can be produced by observing the utility principle and
! being unjust, then I think we should be Just and produce
less good. If a great deal of good can be produced by
i
J by being unjust, then I think we ought to be unjust. If
220
j we are correct in these beliefs, it is clear that our
!
duty need not always be to do what (or follow the rule
I that) maximizes goodness. This was Ross's insight and I
i
' believe he was right.
i
77* (3) Any formulation of the rule-utilitarian
! position will fail, I believe, to give an adequate account
i
| of supererogatory acts. It will turn supererogatory acts
into duties, which they most certainly are not. Let us
have this argument from Donagan:
Consider the following possible situation: a fifth
of the members of a society are lazy, idle, and
irresponsible; their behavior causes them serious
harm, yet coercing them to behave more responsibly
would occasion grave evils; and, finally, if the rule
"It is the duty of every industrious and prudent per
son to set aside, according to his means, a small but
appreciable portion of his income for the support of
the lazy but needy," were adopted in the society in
question, more good and less evil would result than if
It were not adopted. I do not think that our society
is of this kind, but, since such a society is certainly
possible, a rule-utilitarian living in it would have
no choice but to consider himself morally obliged to
recognize the proposed rule.9°
Donagan thinks most people would not consider it their
duty to adopt thi3 rule. And he believes they would be
right in rejecting this rule as defining a duty. Assuming
i that they would go on to set aside a portion of their
income for the lazy but needy anyway, their acts would be
J
! supererogatory--above and beyond the call of duty.
j
! We agree.
96"ls There a Credible Form of Utilitarianism?"
pp. 19^-95.
221
| 78. In the first part of this chapter we distin
guished between act and rule-utilitarianism. We found
' that rule-utilitarianism, by bringing only rules to the
1
test of utility, tries to avoid those difficulties which
are fatal to act-utllitarianism. Specifically, rule-
l
utilitarianism is held to be superior to act-utilitarianism
| on the grounds that it comes closer to the way we actually
make moral decisions, it does not have such difficult-to-
accept implications, it is not self-defeating, and it
meets the requirements of universalizability.
In Part II we considered a series of objections
to rule-utilitarianism. The first objection was that rule-
; utilitarianism requires as many rules as acts and conse
quently has the same implications for practice as act-
j utilitarianism, the second objection that rule-utilitar
ianism makes wrong acts we think are right. We argued
that these two objections proceed from faulty assumptions
and do not constitute serious criticism. The other three
obJections--that rule-utilitarianism is irrational, that
it is self-defeating, and that it Justifies acts we con-
1 sider to be wrong--are far more serious. Whether these
objections can be set aside, we said, depends on whether
I the practice conception can be successfully carried over
to moral rules.
| We argued in Part III that the analogy between a
I rule that defines a game and a moral rule such as "Always
222
jkeep your promises” breaks down, that the rules which
i
define the making of promises or the practice of promising
1 are not what Rawls takes them to be. And we are inclined
i
! to think the same is true of punishment. We therefore
1 concluded that the practice conception of rules cannot
| help the utilitarian out of his difficulties.
I We pointed out in Part IV that even if moral rules
could be legitimately construed as specifying the condi
tions for the continuance of and participation in a prac
tice, there would still be reason to doubt that these
practices enjoy the greatest utility. It was found that
the rule-utilitarian cannot rely on the hypothetical
; version of the generalization test to eliminate unaccept
able rules that do have utilitarian Justification. It
i was further argued that once the full causal character of
an act is incorporated in its description, its simple
utility and its generalized utility will be found to
coincide.
In Part V it was noted how extremely difficult it
is to satisfactorily state the principle of rule-
, utilitarianism. The rule-utilitarian may suggest that
we observe only particular moral rules, and that where no
! such rule applies no moral wrong can occur. This formu
lation saves the rule-utilitarian from having to admit
; idleness and frivolity are morally wrong, but it raises
I the question of when there is and isn't a particular moral
I 223
rule, a question to which no satisfactory answer Is
forthcoming. Moreover, on this reading the rule-utilitar-
! ian is unable to supply a solution when an act falls under
i
two opposing rules. To avoid these difficulties the rule-
utilitarian may take the position that when no particular
J moral rule covers a proposed act, the general rule "Always
maximize goodness" does, and that this rule is the final
appeal when miles conflict. But this reading of the
' principle turns relaxation into a moral wrong, and it
still fails to account for all our duties.
If it is difficult for the rule-utilitarian to
say Just how the utility principle should function, it is
no easier for him to decide what set of rules is to serve
as the criterion of rightness. To say we ought to follow
|
1 only the rules recognized in our community implies that in
some societies slave-beating, genocide, and spying on the
intimate lives of one's neighbors may be morally right.
To say one ought to follow only ideally utilitarian rules
is to set up as the criteria of rightness what is possibly
unleamable, unstatable, and unknown. This formulation of
the principle is, moreover, ambiguous. Construed one
way it has the same consequences as act-utilitarianlsm;
! construed another way it Justifies behavior which may in
i some societies have the worst of consequences.
: Assuming we could arrive at a statement of rule-
I utilitarianism which avoids these dilemmas, it would still
......... " 224
ibe subject to three fatal objections. The first Is that
I i
It would be unable to Justify a distribution of goods j
! based on desert; the second Is that It would not satis- j
! i
factorily account for the principle of punitive Justice; )
! i
the third is that it would turn supererogatory acts into !
j j
duties. I conclude from this that rule-utilitarianism !
i
does not stand as an acceptable form of the teleological
i theory of obligation.
i
CHAPTER VI
BLANSHARD ON GOODNESS AND THE MORAL OUGHT
1. Controlling our analysis and criticism
I
i throughout the preceding chapters have been two assump-
: tions: (l) that any tenable ethical theory, whether it
purports to tell us what things are intrinsically good or
what acts are right or obligatory, must be consistent with
itself, that is it must not have implications that are
contradictory; (2) that any valid ethical theory or moral
i principle must be consistent with our best and most firmly
; held beliefs
2. All traditional forms of ethical egoism, we
have argued, fail the second test; impersonal egoism fails
the first as well. Hedonism as a theory of value, while
^For a more complete statement of these two
requirements plus one more, that of generality which
applies only to particular moral Judgments, see Brandt's
Ethical Theory, chap. ii.
! It is implied in our second test, I think, that
any acceptable moral principle must be universalizable in
the sense that it is logically possible for everyone to
j adopt it and that we are able to impartially recommend
I that everyone do so. A moral principle which does not
j meet these requirements, while it may be consistent with
i itself, is inconsistent with our belief that disinterest
edness is an ideal both on the level of moral assessment
! and in the framing of moral principles.
226
not internally inconsistent,2 does have consequences which
are inconsistent with other beliefs we accept. Act and
! rule-utilitarianism both fail to pass test (2).
t
3. If there is a credible teleological account
!
of right and duty--that is an account which bases the
i
; rightness or obligatoriness of an act exclusively on the
! intrinsic goodness it brings into existence, and which is
able to meet the objections we have found fatal to other
teleological theories--it will have to be a proposal very
like the one Blanshard defends. To set this out will be
the task undertaken in the next two chapters. This
chapter will be devoted primarily to Blanshard's theory
of goodness or value, the chapter following to his inter-
I
pretation of the utility principle. On Blanshard1s theory
| of value no attempt is made at comprehensiveness and
I
completeness of treatment. That would require lengthy
excursions into metaphysics, epistemology, and psychology,
excursions which I am not prepared to take and which would
be, in any case, outside the scope of my objectives. What
I shall do is to sketch only in broad outline--with criti
cism held to a minimum— the main features of Blanshard's
! 2Unless the hedonist tries to distinguish between
| the quantity and quality of pleasure. If he does this
! he falls into inconsistency, since it is then possible
! for an experience containing less pleasure to be better
, than one containing more. And this is inconsistent with
the hedonist's claim that pleasure is the sole determinant
1 of value.
227
j naturalism in order to make the connection between his
theory of goodness and the moral ought. I shall then try
; to show that his naturalism while it does avoid most forms
i
of the naturalistic fallacy, cannot be conjoined with a
teleological account of right and duty.
k. There are two ways, Blanshard reminds us,
i that goodness can be studied: "Goodness may be studied
either as a predicate of a Judgment or as an object of
pursuit."3 The first method, so carefully pursued by
linguistic philosophers, consists of analyzing the meaning
and logic of this moral concept. The second method is the
study of goodness in its wider human and biological con
text, that is in the context of human desires, drives,
needs, and potentialities. This approach proceeds on the
! assumption that goodness is implicated in human nature and
i
therefore cannot be profitably studied in abstraction from
its roots. It is this latter way of studying goodness
which Blanshard considers to be the more fruitful. "A
sound theory of value can be developed only from an under
standing of the 3oil or setting in which value arises.”^
! 3Rea3on and Goodness, p. 292.
^Ibid., p. 293. Cf. "To conceive of goodness
i rightly when cut off from these roots In human nature, is
1 impossible." Ibid., p. 292. This does not mean Blanshard
ignores meta-ethics. He has, as we shall see, his own
: views on the meaning of moral concepts and the logic of
; moral Judgments. But he thinks meta-ethlcal questions
J cannot be answered responsibly Independent of normative
i considerations.
i_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Accordingly, Blanshard's view of goodness "is bound up
with a theory of how the mind is constituted, of how values
arise in experience, and of how they are connected with j
needs and impulses."5
13. Blanshard's theory of goodness is tied to a
I j
teleological conception of mind according to which con- I
I scious processes are purposive. "Mind Just is ... a
1 set of activities directed to ends. It is these ends
alone that are, or would be, good without qualification."^
Our conscious life, then, consists of a number of impulse-
desires directed toward certain ends. One of the most
noteworthy is the theoretic impulse, the impulse to know.?
- ^ Ibld., p. 293. It follows from this that ethics
cannot be divorced from psychology. We cannot know what
: is good for man unless we know what man is.
^Ibld., p. 309. Cf. "Human nature ijj essentially
a set of activities directed toward ends, and human life
is a striving toward these ends." Ibid., p. 315* This
striving begins in impulse, and when it achieves some
! awareness of the end it is seeking (what would satisfy it
and bring it to rest) it becomes desire. What would fully
satisfy these impulse-desires is, of course, never wholly
clear. But the ends do increasingly define themselves in
the course of their realization. What must not be supposed
is that the inability to specify these ends makes the
processes leading to them mechanical or purposeless. See
also Reason and Goodness, p. 304.
?This, Blanshard believes, is a fundamental drive:
j "We could no more divest ourselves of this impulse than
j we could leap off our own shadows." Ibid., p. 330.
I According to Blanshard the Impulse to know manifests
i itself in such diverse activities as perceiving, wondering,
doubting, conjecturing, inferring, reasoning. In all of
; these cognitive activities the same ideal is in operation.
J Brand Blanshard, The Nature of Thought (London: George
I Allen & Unwin Ltd, 1955;, I, 486. With the Gestaltists
j It is present in the most elementary perceptual Judgments;
it is the same impulse further along in its advance but
! still pushing for completion in the speculative Judgments
I
of the metaphysician. That is to say, the impulse to
I
i
' know or to understand is like other fundamental drives:
| "what it is seeking--what will ultimately satisfy it--is
S far from apparent at its lower levels and is defined only
i q
gradually in the course of a long advance."0 But in its
Journey, thought does not proceed by blind groping:
Its direction is set by its end, which works as an
immanent ideal within the process of thought. The
pressure exerted by this ideal increases as intelli
gence rises in the scale. . . . As thought matures
and realizes in fuller measure the end it is seeking,
that end lavs its movement under increasingly firm
constraint.°
What is the end which thought is seeking, the goal which
would bring the cognitive impulse to rest? It is to know
the truth about the nature of things. And that, Blanshard
believes, Involves the grasp of intelligible system:
Thought is an activity with an end or aim. Its end is
truth. . . . (truth] lies, we shall hold, in system,
and above all in that perfect type of system in which
each component implies and is implied by every other.
. . . to know the truth about anything is . . .to
Blanshard agrees that there is "an Immanent pressure
toward intelligible order even on the lower perceptual
j levels." Ibid., p. 136. Also see pp. 526-27.
^Blanshard, Reason and Analysis, p. 384. See also
; Blanshard, The Nature of Thought, I, 489-90»
9Blanshard, Reason and Analysis, pp. 384-85.
apprehend it in a system of relations that makes it
intelligible, and this is what we mean by understand
ing it.10
] Thought, then, works under the implicit ideal of system,
i
; and nothing less than an intelligible whole, the parts of
; which are necessarily connected, will ultimately satisfy
j
i
: it.
i
j
j 6. Now just as man is possessed of a cognitive
i impulse, so also he has built into his nature other
impulses. There is, for example, the aesthetic impulse,
the end of which is harmony and proportion, which, taken
; together, constitute what we call beauty.11 The disposi
tion to do our duty or what is right is another natural
impulse.12 Creativeness, love, and friendship are still
others.1^ To know, to love, to create--all these experi-
! ences are ways of realizing ourselves. And whatever is
I
a mode of self-realization is intrinsically good.
7. We said earlier that Blanshard defends a
pluralistic theory of value. We can now see why. It is
1QThe Nature of Thought, I, 78. Also pp. 222, 466;
II, 23-24; Blanshard, Reason and Goodness, p. 301J and
Blanshard, Reason and Analysis, pp. 38^-86.
! 11Blanshard, Reason and Goodness, p. 302.
j 12Ibid., p. 333.
; 13"How many of these conative drives of impulse-
: desire, with their varying ends, can be distinguished in
human nature? The point is a controversial one which we
: shall make no attempt to settle. Even if our list were
i perfect as of the present date, nature would probably
antiquate it by evolving others." Ibid., p. 301.
i 231
!
i Blanshard's view that whatever experiences answer to the
i
demands of our nature are intrinsically good or worth
having for their own sake. And all intrinsically good j
! experiences do two things: they fulfil and they satisfy: j
Take any case you will of experience regarded as [
intrinsically good, and ask yourself whether its good- j
ness does not turn on two facts about it— first that j
it brings satisfaction in the form of some degree of
i pleasure, and second that it fulfils a want. Try it
| with any experience of love, of friendship, of
i intellectual insight, of sex, of beauty, of victory
in contest, of success in skill and creation. Our
suggestion is that these characters, and only these,
will be invariably there.
8. Just as there are as many intrinsically good
experiences as there are ways of gratifying distinct types
of impulse-desires, so also there are as many intrinsically
bad experiences as there are ways of frustrating these
desires. Evil is present whenever impulse-desire is
! thwarted in pursuit of its goal. Among the things which
are intrinsically evil are stupidity, aesthetic insensiti
vity and moral insensitivity. This does not mean that a
stupid person, for example, cannot enjoy a measure of
■^Ibld., p. 317. It is clear to Blanshard that
value is bound up with experience, that nothing could be
: good, intrinsically or otherwise, in the absence of all
experience. "Whatever is good . . . must stand in relation
to consciousness." Ibid., p. 273. "if consciousness were
j abolished, I think it would take all value with it, even if
| every bit of bodily behavior remained precisely what it
! is." Ibid., p. 187. Statements to the same effect are
found on pp. 177 and 199 and in Reason and Analysis, p.
491. Since all value arises from the goal-seeking activi-
: ties of conscious beings and since only experiences can
j fulfil and satisfy these needs, only experiences can have
i immediate intrinsic value.
232
satisfaction. He may fancy himself a genius and be quite
pleased with himself. But his condition is bad nonethe-
| less, because the impulse to know has not made significant
I
: progress toward its goal; and the fact "that it has not
i
! even gone far enough to become aware of its own failure
i does not better the situation."^
i We may say, then, that . . . only experiences are
I directly or immediately good. When they are good
intrinsically, they perform a double function: they
fulfil an impulse, drive, or need, and in so doing
they give satisfaction or pleasure. Both components,
fulfilment and satisfaction, are necessary, and they
may vary independently of each other. Both are always
partial . . . and they are always provisional or
incomplete so that goodness is a matter of degree. It
is to be measured against an ideal good, which is the
kind of life which would fulfil and satisfy wholly.1®
Much is stated and implied in this quotation, and all of
i
it is as important as it is controversial. Let us set
j out the main points.
i
9. (l) Goodness is a function of fulfilment and
satisfaction in union. Both fulfilment and satisfaction
(pleasure) must be present in some degree for an experi
ence to be intrinsically good. And it must not be supposed
that they are the same thing. "Fulfilment is achieving
1 the end that our impulse is seeking; satisfaction is the
feeling that attends this fulfilment."1^ It is the
^Blanshard, Reason and Goodness, p. 336.
l6Ibid., p. 293.
17Ibid., p. 309.
I 233
i
| mistake of the hedonist to seize upon one (satisfaction or
pleasure) and overlook the other (fulfilment).
10. The psychological hedonist assumes that we j
■ desire only the feeling of satisfaction (or pleasure) that
1 attends knowing or loving or creating and not the experi- j
ences of knowing or loving or creating. And it is a short j
1 step from this to saying that since we seek only satlsfac-
1 tion, satisfaction is the only thing that is intrinsically
good, (a) This, however, is an illicit inference. Even
if satisfaction were the only thing we desire, it would
not follow that pleasure is the only thing intrinsically
good.
It is conceivable that everyone should in fact desire
pleasure and pleasure only, and also that there should
be things other than pleasure which, if we came to know
about them, we should desire and regard as good.l°
(b) But the doctrine of psychological hedonism is in any
case false.*9
We desire to eat food, and not merely to have the
pleasure of eating; we desire to hear music, and play
games, and understand, not merely to gain satisfaction
out of objects and activities themselves indifferent.20
11. If with the ethical hedonist one believes
that intrinsic goodness lies in pleasure alone, a very
| - ^Ibld., p. 300.
19Blanshard says of this doctrine that "It ought
to have died once for all of the wounds inflicted on it
by Butler." Ibid.
20Ibld.
I
i
1 _____________________________________________________________________
234
startling consequence follows: one is unable to say two
experiences may be equally pleasant but of unequal
' intrinsic value.2^ If a moron takes as intense delight in
: exploring his naval as Aristotle in philosophizing, the
two activities must be equally good. If the satisfaction
of a savage beating his drums is as great as that of I
i
| Schweitzer at his organ, the two experiences are of equal
!
intrinsic worth.22 These unfortunate conclusions we wish
to avoid. And we are able to do so on Blanshard's view.
Here goodness is measured in terms of both fulfilment and
satisfaction, and these two determinants of value can vary
independently of one another. Hence we are able to say
that though Aristotle and Schweitzer may not have found
more satisfaction in their research and music than the
I
| moron and the savage do in theirs, the latter’s activities
|
are still of less intrinsic value.23 They are of less
2lBlanshard, "The Impasse in Ethics and a Way
Out," p. 108.
22We could take the following example which is
even more extreme: It is surely possible that the life
of an idiot in a perpetual state of euphoria is more
pleasurable than that of a person normally endowed. The
i hedonist would have to conclude that the idiot’s life is
, on that account intrinsically better. Blanshard, on the
: other hand, does not have to draw this conclusion. On his
j view, one life may be more pleasurable or satisfying than
! another but at the same time much less fulfilling and
- therefore less good.
23This, according to Blanshard, is what Mill wanted
: to say and tried to provide for by distinguishing between
; quality and quantity of pleasure. But this distinction is
i one that is not available to the consistent hedonistic
I 235
i
value because they are a less complete fulfilment of the
cognitive and aesthetic impulses.
i Still it is important to realize that due to !
i
; differences in capacities, what one man finds fulfilling
1 and satisfying another man will not. The scholar may lack i
i I
| i
the inner resources to be a successful administrator, and !
! the military genius may make an incompetent statesman. j
The administrator, scholar, general, and political leader |
may all find little fulfilment and satisfaction as musi
cians or farmers or engineers. "This suggests," Blanshard
writes, "that each man's good is to be found in a different
place. Probably no two living persons have quite the same
set of bents and powers."2^ What each person ought to do
is to seek out those tasks and opportunities which will
i provide the greatest measure of fulfilment and satisfaction
i
for him. This does not mean that all experiences are of
equal value so long as they furnish some individual the
greatest measure of fulfilment and satisfaction of which
he is capable. It only shows that persons differ in their
capacities and therefore in the amount of fulfilment and
i satisfaction they can enjoy in given sets of activities.
: utilitarian. "You cannot consistently say that, with
J their pleasantness equal, one experience is better than
I another, and also that their goodness lies in their
! pleasantness alone." "The Impasse in Ethics and a Way
Out," p. 108. See also Blanshard, Reason and Goodness,
| pp. 310-11.
2^Reason and Goodness, p. 368.
j 12. (2) Experiences are Intrinsically good only
1
to a degree. Since goodness Is a function of the two
independent variables fulfilment and satisfaction, the
intrinsic value of any experience can be raised by making
it more fulfilling or more satisfying. But suppose satis
faction increases while fulfilment decreases or that
■ fulfilment increases while satisfaction decreases. What
1
should we say then? Blanshard believes that any assess
ment would be difficult and that we should probably find
ourselves quite puzzled. But this is precisely what we
would expect if goodness hinges on both factors.25 This
is another instance where Blanshard's criterion of good
ness comports more closely with ordinary thinking than
1
does the hedonist criterion. For the hedonist must be
prepared to say that so long as satisfaction increases to
even the slightest degree, there is a corresponding
increase in goodness.
13. It is important to remember, however, that
for an experience to be intrinsically worthwhile it must
both satisfy and fulfil to some degree.2^ The good is
i what would satisfy and fulfil wholly. Since no experience
satisfies and fulfils wholly, all intrinsically good
25lbld., p. 337.
^Blanshard, "The Impasse in Ethics and a Way Out,"
pp. 108-9; Blanshard, Reason and Goodness, pp. 293, 313.
r ’ 237
experiences are good only to a degree. This too Is the
common sense view, a view which Blanshard thinks Is incom-
■ patible with the nonnaturalism of G. E. Moore. For Moore
I
goodness Is an all-or-nothing affair. The Intrinsic
goodness of an experience turns on the presence of a j
I simple, Indefinable, nonnatural quality the same in all I
| experiences that are Intrinsically good.27 While It Is
true that the goodness of an experience is based on its
natural characteristics or qualities and that these quali
ties may vary from one experience to the next, goodness
is not the same as any of these qualities.2® Since "good”
denotes or means a simple abstract quality which is (in
some way) either wholly present or wholly absent in a
given experience, it follows, Blanshard thinks, that on
: Moore's theory an experience is either good or it is not.
Blanshard, on the other hand,— and he believes he carries
27Blanshard, Reason and Goodness, pp. 266-67.
28to think goodness is the same as (means the
same as or is identical with) good-making characteristics
(or the properties in virtue of which something is called
good) is, Moore says, to commit the naturalistic fallacy.
If we wish we can of course define "good" in terms of the
I characteristics that accompany its presence, Just as the
physicist can define the color "yellow" in terms of light
waves of a given length. But we must not suppose, having
; done this, that good just i£ those characteristics, any-
S more than the physicist ought to suppose that yellow just
i ij3 colorless light waves. "Good" does not mean, is not
identical with, any other property. Good ijs (means)good,
i and that is all we can say about it. A more complete
; discussion of this fallacy is found on pp. 289-306 below.
the plain man with him here--is convinced that
The goodness of [ourj achievements is clearly a matter j
of degree; and a climb that, regarded from below, is a |
] triumph, may also, when seen from above, be a falling
j short. The two Judgments are equally true. Goodness
i in its essence is relative to an endeavor, and any
t stage of that endeavor is called good or evil, depend
ing on the point of the journey from which it is
regarded. This is, or ought to be, an embarrassing
reflection to a theory that holds goodness to be a !
simple quality like yellow, which in a given experi-
1 ence, is either present or absent.^9
1 14. (3) Fulfilment and satisfaction enter into
the meaning of good. It is Blanshard's contention that
goodness is not a nonnatural quality which supervenes on
intrinsically good things. What is wrong with Moore's
theory is that it drives a wedge between those character
istics in virtue of which we call something good, that is
i
those characteristics on which goodness is based, and the
J meaning of goodness.
^Reason and Goodness, p. 338. In further criti
cism of Moore, felanshard registers the following complaints:
i (l) That this peculiar quality of which "good" is the name
cannot (at least by him and other moralists of distinction)
be found, whereas we should be as familiar with it as with
the simple sense quality denoted by the word "yellow."
Ibid., p. 268. Here Blanshard's feelings are at one with
those of the naturalist Ralph Barton Perry. For Perry's
comments see his General Theory of Value (Cambridge:
j Harvard University Press, 1954), p. 30. (2) That Moore's
I theory "draws too sharp a line between goodness and good-
: making characteristics." Reason and Goodness, p. 269.
j (3) That if "good" names and means a simple property
j present in all things intrinsically good, I ought to be
I able to "learn what the goodness of wisdom was by tasting
: a chocolate eclair, since when I call this experience good,
i I have in mind the same simple quality that makes anything
; good. Such a consequence is absurd." Ibid., p. 272.
239
j It draws too sharp a line between goodness and good-
! making characteristics. In insisting that nothing
that makes the good man good, or the good dessert or
person or sensation good, shall enter into their good-
j ness, that this quality is something sharply distinct,
: whose nature, when displayed in these characteristics,
can be singled out and set over against them, this
account is introducing a division that exists only in
theory, not in fact.3”
' What makes anything intrinsically good is that it fulfils
i
I human needs, impulses, and desires and brings satisfaction
l
i
J in its wake. This is the test or criterion of goodness;
i
this is what goodness consists in; this is what the term
"good" (in its ethical sense) means.31 it is not Just
that the gratifying of human needs is an indispensable or
necessary condition for something to be good--for even
the nonnaturalist can say thls--but that the satisfying
of human needs enters into the very meaning of good.32
I 15. We must be clear about this. The nonnatural-
i
1st can say that goodness is based on good-making charac-
! teristics, that the two are inseparably linked. That is
to say the nonnaturalist need not (though he may) insist
3°Blanshard, Reason and Goodness, p. 269.
3lBlanshard, "The Impasse in Ethics and a Way
Out," p. 106.
32gianshard, Reason and Goodness, pp. 292-93.
Broadly speaking, one may say that Blanshard is a natural
ist because he believes that goodness is so Intimately
related to human needs and desires that the very meaning
of goodness lies in their satisfaction. This is not of
course very enlightening. A more in-depth analysis of the
; sort of naturalism Blanshard defends will be offered later
! in this chapter.
240 !
j
i
that "good" is the name of an abstract quality that sits
as loosely to good-making characteristics as a rider to j
; a horse.33 What the nonnaturalist cannot say is that !
I
good-making characteristics (e.g. what pleases, what
fulfils, loyalty to duty, etc.) are the meaning of good. j
; i
Or to put it another way, what the nonnaturalist cannot !
: agree to is that the terms "satisfaction" and "fulfilment,"
for example, have the same denotation as the term "good,"
that they are Just different names for the same thing.
Blanshard's own position is this: that the words
"good" and "fulfilment/satisfaction" are identical in
meaning. Goodness is not something other than its defining
characteristics. Not only is the presence of fulfilment
and satisfaction the test of goodness, fulfilment and
satisfaction is what goodness means. Since the criterion
or test of goodness is the same as its meaning, to know
the one is to know the other. The relation between good
ness and fulfilment/satisfaction is not, then, one of
33The nonnaturalist may hold that the nonnatural
property of goodness can vary independently of all natural
properties such that one thing, A, can be exactly like
, another thing, B, except that A has the nonnatural property
"goodness" while B does not. Or the nonnaturalist may
claim that while "goodness" is a property unlike all
| natural properties it nonetheless always (and even neces-
| sarily) accompanies certain natural properties such that
A cannot be like B in respect to all natural properties
but unlike B in respect to goodness. That the nonnatural-
j 1st has then two options is pointed out by R. M. Hare in
; Freedom and Reason (New York: Oxford University Press,
I 19^7), PP. 18-19.
j synthetic entailment, but one of identity of meaning. If
an analogy is needed, perhaps the relation between brother
| and sibling is the one we are driving at. To be a brother i
I
: doesn't entail that one is also something else, viz. a
i
; male sibling. A brother and a male sibling are the same j
| thing; they are identical in meaning. So too the relation >
| between goodness and fulfilment/satisfaction.
i
16. (4) Goodness is a genus of which intrinsically
good things are species. We have Just seen that Blanshard
defines goodness in terms of fulfilment and satisfaction,
that he believes the fulfilling and satisfying aspects of
an experience cannot be distinguished from its goodness.
This raises the interesting question of how precisely
goodness is related to those things that possess it intrin-
; sically. How does goodness belong to what fulfils and
satisfies?
17. (a) In the first place--and this follows from
what we have already said--the connection between goodness
and, say, happiness is not one of mere empirical together-
ness, like the connection between color and wave-length
^Blanshard, Reason and Goodness, p. 230. Also
Blanshard, Reason and Analysis, p. 440. If this is thought
; to be a poor example of empirical conjunction, perhaps a
| better one would be that of a rose and its redness. The
' point to be made is this, that goodness is seen to belong
to happiness in a more intimate way than redness belongs
; to a rose. A rose can remain a rose if its color changes,
i but happiness cannot remain what it is if it is stripped
' of its goodness.
I 242
i
There is no reason, so far as we know, why when waves of
: a certain length strike the eye one sees the color red.
! Presumably one could have this sensation in the absence of
I
' these particular light waves. But could the experience of
happiness be what it is without goodness being present?
j
| Not if Blanshard1s analysis is correct. If happiness were
i
S divested of its goodness, it would no longer be happiness
I
i but something else. The connection between happiness and
i
goodness is therefore a necessary one.
18. (b) Neither can we say that happiness and
goodness are two things linked synthetically by the rela
tion of entailment.35 We might say that synthetic entail-
; ment is the relation between color and extension--that
color is one thing, spread-out-ness another, but that
! anything which is colored is necessarily extended. But
i
' goodness does not relate to happiness in the way extension
is related to color. In the first place, one cannot dis
tinguish in a delightful experience between the happiness
component and the goodness component as one can distinguish
between the color and extension of a patch. In the second
I place, for an experience to be absolutely delightful is a
way of being good. Color is not a way of being extended
I
j even though color may entail extension.
i _ _ _ —__________
]
I 35Bian3har(^ Reason and Goodness, p. 269.
! j
j 19. (c) So the relation between goodness and that ;
which has it is neither one of empirical togetherness nor
one of synthetic entailment. It is rather, according to
: Blanshard, that of a genus to its species: "happiness is
itself a kind of goodness ... it is one of the forms in j
; which goodness presents itself."36 Happiness, love,
| understanding and the other things that are good intrinsi- \
cally are all forms of goodness, kinds or species of
goodness.
20. It would be a mistake, however, to think that
1 because goodness is a genus of which intrinsic goods are
species that the genus is isolatable and has an existence
apart from its species. To be sure, this view has plaus
ibility if one accepts the doctrine of the abstract uni
versal. But Blanshard finds this doctrine untenable.
1
He says that
if one takes the genus colour, and tries in some way
to put one's finger on a common colour or colouredness,
which is neither red nor blue nor yellow, but a change
less component in all of them, one cannot do it; the
species red and the genus colour so Interpenetrate
that no wedge can be driven between them.3'
And the same is true with respect to goodness. Or to make
’ the same point with the help of an analogy, Just as one
I t. also p. 230.
37lbid.. pp. 270-71. See The Nature of Thought,
, I, 581-608, 624 for Blanshard's discussion of the abstract
: universal. According to Blanshard this universal can
! neither be thought nor does it exist.
jfinds unthinkable undifferentiated being which is no
particular kind of being, so also one cannot conceive of
|goodness which is no special form of goodness.3® To think '
I
of the genus one must think of its forms.
I
21. This analysis, to my mind, will not stand up. t
i !
Blanshard tells us that one cannot separate happiness (or
1 anything else that is intrinsically good) from its good
ness. He thinks that if happiness were divested of its
goodness, it would no longer be happiness, Just as if the
color were removed from red the red would vanish with it.
The "belonging" in the case of color to redness and good
ness to happiness is a necessary one. Now the problem is
this, that on this view the happiness of a man who rejoices
in the undeserved misfortune of his neighbor is necessarily
good. His happiness is a species of goodness. Remove the
I
genus and the species goes too. You can no more remove
the goodness from his happiness, but leave his happiness
intact, than you can remove the color but leave the red.
His happiness would cease to be good, i.e. would cease to
be a species of goodness, only if it ceased to be happiness.
22. I suppose one could assert that happiness of
the sort we have described is never genuine, that it is
j
I--------------------
i ^8Blanshar(ji Reason and Goodness, p. 271. This is
' an Hegelian Insight which Blanshard has incorporated into
Shis doctrine of universals. It is one instance where
I Blanshardfs ethics is reinforced by his metaphysics.
| not really happiness at all, and for that reason may not
be good. But there seems to be no evidence to support
| this claim. It would certainly sound odd to say, "Mr. X
I
: gives every Indication of being Intensely happy over Mr.
Y's bad luck, but he Isn't really and only deceives himself
j
! in thinking otherwise."39 it makes perfectly good sense, I
i and is in accord with common usage, to say, "Mr. X is
I
i surely happy but his happiness, quite apart from other
consequences it may have, is not good or ought not to be
had." That is, we commonly say, and want to be able to
say, that sometimes happiness is not intrinsically good,
39
Would it make sense for Mr. X to say to himself,
"I feel wonderful today. I think I shall 3end flowers to
! some sick folk in the hospital, take my wife out to dinner,
and spend the rest of the evening throwing darts at Mr.
Y's campaign poster. One thing bothers me though. In
spite of the way I feel, I wonder if I am happy ? I think
not. Someone may, of course, agree that it would not make
sense for Mr. X to have such doubts but at the same time
insist that Mr. X might indeed be genuinely unhappy even
though he does not know or suspect it, Just as Mr. X might
have cancer while thinking himself in perfect health. But
I do not think this line of retreat is open. It makes
sense for someone to say of Mr. X, "Even though Mr. X says
he is in perfect health, acts like he is in perfect health,
and honestly thinks that he is, he still may not be." It
would not make sense for someone to say, "Even though Mr.
, X says he is happy, acts like he is happy, and honestly
; thinks that he is happy, he still may not be happy." To
be sure, Mr. X in retrospect might say to himself, "I see
now that I really wasn't happy then, even though I thought
I was at the time.'1 But I don't think this statement,
! taken literally, makes sense. It seems to me that if one
| feels happy he cannot be mistaken about it, any more than
one who feels pain can be mistaken about that. Were it
: possible to mistakenly feel happy, one could never know
! for sure whether one is happy any time. It would always
I be possible that from some later vantage point one will
| stand corrected.
I 246 !
; I
! that some kinds of happiness ought not to exist, that on
i
occasion the world would be a better (more desirable)
! place if there were less happiness in it. If we accept
i
l j
1 Blanshard's analysis of the relation between goodness |
I
and happiness, I do not see how we can say this. 1
I |
23. This line of reflection suggests that fulfil-
! ment and satisfaction cannot give the full meaning of
"good," for surely it makes sense to ask of Mr. X's
; happiness whether it is good, whether that sort of
happiness ought ever to be had, whether it is desirable
for its own sake. We are not merely wondering whether
Mr. X's fulfilling and satisfying experience (i.e. his
| happiness) is fulfilling and satisfying. But on Blan
shard 's theory this is what we must be wondering because
genuine happiness is always fulfilling and satisfying,
and fulfilling and satisfying is what "good" means.
24. It may, of course, be true that experiences
that fulfil and satisfy are the only things that are not
desired only for the sake of something else. But even if
fulfilling and satisfying experiences are the only things
, desired as ends and not, or at least not only, for what
they lead to, this does not establish or entail or in any
i way justify the conclusion that such experiences are
’ desirable for their own sake. That something is in fact
i desired for its own sake does not show that it ought to be
i desired for its own sake. Now it is this latter question
j which is the crucial one. It can be formulated this way: j
i j
Ought all forms of fulfilment and satisfaction (Mr. X's j
; happiness included) to be desired or prized for their own j
i |
sake? I believe the correct answer to this question is,
i
i
No. And though I could be mistaken in this judgment-- i
!
which is, I think, an intuitive one— I am quite sure the '
' question itself is a sensible one. And it is a question
1 which cannot be answered by finding out what is 1 fact
desired as an end. To be told or to be convinced that all j
i
fulfilling and satisfying experiences are desired for their
own sake and that only these experiences are desired for
their own sake is beside the point. For the issue is
whether all such experiences and only such experiences
ought to be prized for what they are in themselves, not
! whether all such experiences and only such experiences
i
are desired or deemed worthwhile as ends.
Now Blanshard believes that all experiences which
fulfil and satisfy, and only experiences which fulfil and
satisfy, are intrinsically good. Not only are all fulfill
ing and satisfying experiences desired for their own sake,
; but they ought to be desired for their own sake. Every
fulfilling and satisfying experience is Intrinsically
i
| desirable and ought to be had (or pursued) so long as
i the long-range consequences of having it (or pursuing it)
| are not bad, so long as having it increases the sum total
of fulfilment and satisfaction in the world. For
I 248
Blanshard the maximum amount of fulfilment and satisfac
tion attainable Is the moral end to be aimed at. It is
; in light of this end that the right, the obligatory, and
: the morally good are to be elucidated. The moral value
! of an action or of a motive or of an attitude or of a j
i I
, disposition or of any character trait is wholly a function !
| of the good (fulfilment and satisfaction) that it produces
j
or tends to produce. Morally right actions are those
actions open to the agent that conduce to not less than
the greatest net fulfilment and satisfaction achievable.
Motives, dispositions, and character traits are morally
good if the actions to which they give rise are (generally)
productive of good consequences, that is of experiences
that fulfil and satisfy. The right, the obligatory, the
morally good are thus wholly dependent on fulfilment and
satisfaction. One can only conclude from this that if in
fact more net fulfilment and satisfaction are brought into
the world as a consequence of Mr. X’s happiness, Mr. X's
happiness is morally good. I am inclined to think, how
ever, that happiness the source of which is undeserved
i misfortune of another person is morally bad, wrong, unfit
ting, no matter how fulfilling and satisfying it is,
I whether or not, all consequences considered, it adds to the
net amount of fulfilment and satisfaction in the world,
; whether or not this sort of happiness is desired for its
i
1
! own sake.
; 249
j 25. Now if simple distinctions between what is
intrinsically good (or desirable for its own sake) and
what fulfils and satisfies, between what is morally good
l
or right and what maximizes fulfilment and satisfaction--
if these distinctions would enable Blanshard to say that |
some experiences found fulfilling and satisfying may not 1
: i
1 be good for their own sake, and that a disposition or an
action that results in a net increase in fulfilment and
satisfaction may not be right or morally good, why does
he not make these distinctions. Blanshard does not say,
but we can surmise the reason. If a fulfilling and satis
fying experience may not be desirable for its own sake,
if a feeling or disposition or action may result in a net
increase in fulfilment and satisfaction and yet be morally
; bad or wrong, we shall have to (l) move to another natural
istic definition of good, or (2) define good nonnatural-
istically, or (3) abandon a teleological account of right
and duty in favor of some form of deontology. Blanshard
finds none of these alternatives inviting. He considers
all other naturalistic definitions of good untenable; he
rejects nonnaturalism; and he thinks deontology is
ultimately irrational.
! 26. (5) Goodness is objective. Human nature
consists of a set of impulse-desires bent on satisfaction.
; Given this nature, some things will truly fulfil and
I satisfy us while other things will not. Since nature has
decided for us what we shall find fulfilling and satisfy
ing, there is an objective standard of goodness and bad-
! ness.^O This standard is grounded in the impulse-desires
i
i that define our being, each one of which has its ideal
! fulfilment. Accordingly, value Judgments are also
! objective. To say "X is (intrinsically) good" is equiva-
! lent to "X is the object of an integrated set of specifi-
I
: cally human desires" or "X has the character of being at
once fulfilling and satisfying." To say "X is better than
Y" means "X is the object of a more inclusive and developed
set of impulse-desires" or "X is productive of more fulfil
ment and satisfaction than Y."
27. It is therefore possible to say that some
things are necessarily good and that some goods are better
’ than other goods:
Democracy in the realm of values, if that means that
one activity is as good as another, or one man's vote
a3 weighty as another's, or one man's life of as much
worth as another's, is an Impossible notion. 1
It is better to be able to create and to appreciate beauty
than to merely enjoy it. It is better to know more than
to know less, but some things are more worthwhile knowing
; than others. Socrates' life was superior to that of the
; average Athenian because in it was found a greater
I ^^Blanshard's position can be characterized, I
i think, as a kind of naturalistic objectivism.
| ^Blanshard, Reason and Goodness, p. 368. See
also p. 322.
flowering of those capacities that make us men. His
interests and desires were at once more comprehensive and
more developed. He achieved the kind of self-realization
all men seek but few attain.**2
It is implied in this that were we constituted by
a different set of impulse-desires, there would be a
corresponding change in our table of goods. But so long
as men remain men, what we find desirable for its own sake
will be the same sorts of activities we prize now. New
goods will reflect only an increasing awareness and
cultivation of potentialities we already possess.
28. (6) Goodne33 is the ground of our duties.
We have noted that man from his very nature does and must
ho
It is perhaps worth remarking that if goodness
is defined in terms of fulfilment and satisfaction, it
follows that mere life itself is without value. The value
of any life will depend on the kind of life it is. A
consequence of this--which Blanshard is quite willing to
draw--is that it is probably an unjustifiable practice to
maintain at public expense those who are barred from living
satisfying and fulfilling lives. "I am not clear what is
meant by the sacredness of human life as such, and should
think the maintenance of hopeless imbeciles at the expense
of normal persons a dubious practice morally." Ibid., p.
323. If it is a dubious moral practice to maintain the
lives of hopeless imbeciles, would it not be a Justifiable
practice to make such persons expendable in the cause of
medical research? Blanshard does not say, but I believe
the implications are clear. A man's rights, he thinks,
extend no further than his potentiality for a fulfilling
and satisfying life; and a man's rights, he believes, are
the grounds of other people's duties toward him.
252
I .
| desire certain ends.^3 we are "so made as to desire them,
1 and fulfilling and satisfying such desires is what 'good'
i means. This supplies the ground of moral obligation.
!
! "Moral obligation is . . . the claim upon us of ends
appointed by our nature."^5 Prom the fact that something
I
i does satisfy the central strivings of our nature it
! ^3cf. "Nature itself has determined that we should
i seek certain forms of self-fulfilment. It is only through
! the seeking of these ends that we have become what we are,
only by continuing to seek them that we can become what we
may be." Ibid., p. 331. It may be thought that to speak
in this vein is to raise the spectre of determinism and
that determinism is incompatible with moral freedom and
responsibility. We cannot pursue the many dimensions of
this thorny question. Suffice it to say that Blanshard
is a determinist, that he believes all thinking conduct,
behavior, volitions, impulses, desires, tastes, prefer-
: ences, and choices are necessitated. He does think that
; there are different kinds of determinism, however. If our
choices and actions were nothing but the product of elabo
rate clockwork or the product of irrational forces operat
ing below the level of consciousness, we would not be free.
But mechanical determinism (causality) is only one kind of
determinism. We can also be determined by rational desires
and by rational insights. And to be determined by reason
is to enjoy the fullest measure of freedom. Freedom,
; moral responsibility and determinism are, then, compatible.
Since we are most free when in fact we are most determined,
freedom is possible only to the extent that indeterminism
is false. The reader who is interested in this problem
will find Blanshard's views developed in Reason and
Analysis, p. 491ff; and in Brand Blanshard’s "The Case for
Determinism," in Determinism and Freedom in the Age of
i Modem Science, ed. by Sidney Hook, Collier Books (New
York: Collier-Macmillan Limited, 1968), pp. 19-30.
| ^Blanshard, Reason and Goodness, p. 331. It
j should be pointed out, however, that "the fulfilment and
! satisfaction in which goodness consists are not mine alone,
- but those of anyone capable of them." Ibid.
45ibid., p. 333.
| follows that that something ought to be. Put a different
; way, fulfilment and satisfaction cannot be predicated of
; an experience without Implying that the experience In
]
| some measure ought to be desired and pursued. The state
ment "X Is fulfilling and satisfying" entails, one might
j say, a conditional "ought statement." It follows from
! the fact that X is fulfilling and satisfying that X ought
I
i
1 to be had, that X ought to be pursued, unless the pursuit
(or having) of X interferes with the pursuit (or having)
of Y which will yield an even greater measure of fulfil
ment and satisfaction, unless the long-range consequences
of pursuing (or having) X are 3uch as to wipe out any
short term gain in fulfilment and satisfaction.
29. We may say, then, that Blanshard brings all
of ethics under two principles: satisfaction and fulfil
ment, which taken together constitute both the meaning
and measure of goodness, the fundamental ethical concept.
"Right," "duty," the "ethical ought" are grounded in good
ness. So of the three questions "What is good?" "What is
right?" "What is my duty?" the first question is the
; primary one. If I know what things are good, I can deduce
my duty; my duty is to bring into existence the maximum
l
! amount of goodness. In other words, to ask what is right
1
or what is my duty is Just to ask what act open to me will
i
. produce the greatest attainable good:
i There is no means for determining the right apart from
1 the good. If one is to defend an action as right, one
must do so by showing what it entails; and for us this
means showing that it tends to,bring into being as
much good as any alternative. b
! The utility principle provides a rational basis for Judg-
I
ments of right and duty. The moral Judgment "X is right"
ia rationally supported by showing that doing X would
i
i produce at least as much fulfilment and satisfaction as
any other act open to the agent. Moral disputes can be
rationally settled by establishing the actual or probable
utility of an act and comparing it with the utility of
other acts that could be performed in its stead. Those
acts will be right and obligatory that produce, or tend to
produce, the greatest amount of good or the greatest
surplus of good over evil. Or, put more accurately to
cover cases where two or more acts open to the agent are
equally productive of the greatest attainable good, those
acts are right which produce or tend to produce not less
than the largest amount of good. In such situations,
"To speak of the right act would be misleading, for any
one of several acts would be right.Our duty of course
would be to perform one of the right acts.^8
i 46Ibid., p. 321.
! 4?Ibld.
i ^®If two acts are equally productive of goodness
but the agent can perform only one of them, it can hardly
1 be his duty to perform both. All obligatory acts are
I right, then, but all right acts do not have to be
; 255
i
j 30. Since our duty is to bring into existence as
I
much good (fulfilment and satisfaction) as we are able,
I the moral ’ ’ought" has the force of an imperative. If we
I
; want fulfilment and satisfaction, which given our nature
1
!we cannot help wanting, we must do certain things.
1
This gives the meaning of 'ought'. To say I ought to
! do something is ultimately to say that if a set of
ends is to be achieved, whose goodness I cannot deny
i without making nonsense of my own nature, then I must
act in a certain way.49
Because the "ought" is built into human nature in the form
of an "is," duty is not an alien command from without.
"Duty is the Imperative laid upon us by a summum bonum
which is prescribed by human nature itself."50
another way:
It is the voice of our own nature, the imperative of
our own reason, telling us that if our central striv-
| ings and those of others, the ends nature itself has
obligatory. To know an act is right is not to be under
obligation to perform it unless one knows of no other act
i that is equally productive of goodness. Put another way,
the class of right acts and the class of obligatory acts
are not necessarily coextensive or identical, although all
obligatory acts do belong to the class of right acts.
Since right acts are not necessarily duties, right and
duty do not mean precisely the same thing. The distinc
tion between right acts and obligatory acts is not, how
ever, original with Blanshard. Kant and Ross and Moore and
Ewing all call attention to it. See Ross's The Right and
the Good, pp. 3-4; Moore's Ethics, pp. 21-25; and Ewing*s
| The Definition of Good, p. 124.
! ^9sianshard, Reason and Goodness, p. 331.
5°ibid., p. 332.
I.......' ... " 256
i
set before us, are to be fulfilled, we must act thus
and not otherwise.51
I
■ 31. (7) Pure moral badness is impossible. On
t
1 Blanshard's view, no man can be a pure devil, pursuing
! deliberately what is evil Just because it is evil.52
1 1
j Human nature rules it out. Life Just is an appointed j
pursuit of ends set by our nature the realization of which
i
I constitutes the measure and meaning of goodness.
32. It might be objected that such destructive
drives as fear and aggression cannot be reconciled with
this claim. If these are natural impulses, as they surely
seem to be, who will say the realization of the ends
toward which they are directed are good? To this Blan-
! shard replies that these
are not drives with ends of their own; they are
j summoned up when other drives are frustrated, and are
1 nature's means of intensifying and safeguarding them.
When they do get out of hand and must be suppressed,
it is not because they are evil in themselves but
because their fulfilment would block other fulfil
ments . 53
33. It is Blanshard's belief, then, that all
forms of fulfilment and satisfaction are good so long as
i they do not interfere with other forms. We are in any
j case determined to choose those goods which we believe
^Blanshard, "The Impasse in Ethics and a Way
Out," p. 111.
52Reason and Goodness, p. 3^1.
53"The Impasse in Ethics and a Way Out," p. 110.
257
to be most fulfilling and satisfying. No man, as Socrates
suggested long ago, ever chooses, nor is he able to choose,
! the worse (or a lesser good) in full view of the better:
! Even the criminal, as Socrates saw, does not choose
I evil merely as evil .... When vicious and harmful
acts spring, not from a rush of passion, as they often
I do, but from something that can be called a motive, the
motive is never to work evil, conceived as such. Some
twist of thought makes the worse appear the better
j reason; the act, looked at through the vapours of
i anger, fear, or Jealousy, is seen in a false light.
| ... If human nature is governed, as we hold it is,
by certain powerful impulse-desires whose fulfilment
and satisfaction provide the meaning of good, we should
expect that there would be no such thing as moral bad
ness, if that means a settled will toward the bad
because of its badness, that choices of the bad as
such would seldom or never occur, and that when they
did seem to occur, they would turn out, on examination
to be choices of evil sub specie bonl. All these
expectations, I think, are confirmed by fact.54
34. A demur is perhaps in order here. It is
; surely debatable, it seems to me, that we are able to
j
[ desire and to choose only what we believe to be good. But
Blanshard apparently takes this as a psychological truth.
| To draw on my own experience, there have been times when I
badly wanted something I knew to be not in my own best
interest. On these occasions I fully realized that if I
acted to satisfy these wants, fulfilment and satisfaction
\
would not be achieved. Though I knew I could count on
j feeling remorse, this knowledge did not stop my desiring.
1
I In some Instances I went on to satisfy the want against my
I
I
j better Judgment, and the consequences were Just as I
54sianshard, Reason and Goodness, p. 342.
n ~ " 2 5 8
i
j expected they would be. If ray own experience Is not
1
unusual In this respect, we do not always desire what we j
think Is fulfilling and satisfying; almost anything can be |
! the object of a desire or a pro-attitude. And how better,
i
one might ask, can one explain the self-destructive tend-
| encles of which psychologists speak? Does it make sense
1 1
! to say that the man who tries to commit suicide Is really
bent on self-realization? Perhaps it is true that one
would not attempt suicide unless other drives had been
frustrated, and that the impulse or desire to end one's
life is not an impulse with an end of its own. But can
we say, as Blanshard presumably would, that the suicidal
impulse is nature's way of intensifying and safeguarding
other more constructive drives? To my mind, this account
is far from plausible. By writing a finish to all drives,
l
' how are any of them thereby preserved and intensified?
35. (8) All goods are rational goods. We have
seen that what we find fulfilling and satisfying is
appointed by our nature, and that all goods are therefore
natural goods.55 Can we also say that all goods are
rational goods? Blanshard believes so. The ends we seek
! 55we are of course speaking of intrinsic goods.
| By labelling all such goods "natural" Blanshard means that
; they fulfil and satisfy needs and desires. He means that
the goodness of experiences lies exclusively in their
: fulfilling and satisfying aspects, that goodness is not a
; supervening or consequential property different from, yet
| entailed by, fulfilment/satisfaction.
259
are the Joint product of impulse-desire and reason. Our
question is, then, how do reason and impulse-desire
| cooperate in the determination of the good? ■
36. It is reason, operating below the level of |
I j
explicit thought that turns impulse into desire. It does j
I ' 1
I this by setting before impulse that which will complete !
1
j it.
Now the function of reason among impulse-desires
is very much like its function among sensory impres
sions. Consider the parallel between the way it turns
sensation into perception and the way it turns impulse
into desire. The child soon comes, on seeing the
shape of the chair to expect certain other qualities
to put in their appearance; it completes the given by
the expectation of the non-given. In very similar
fashion it completes impulse into desire. It has
experienced hunger followed by food that allayed the
hunger, and thirst followed by an allaying drink.
When they first arise, the impulses of hunger and
thirst are blind, Just as, according to Kant, sensa
tions are blind without conceptions; the child wants,
without knowing what he wants. Desire removes the
blindness by supplying impulse with the idea of its
own completion, and from that point on, impulse no
longer needs to grope in the dark, for, knowing now
what it wants, it can go relatively straight to
its goal
According to Blanshard, reason is present and functions
in much the same way in all teleological activities, that
is, wherever there is an impulse toward self-fulfilment.
| Take knowing for example. Knowing is an attempt of the
j mind at self-fulfilment, and it is reason with its own
!
i immanent ideal which enables us to move first from
sensation to perception and then to fashion out of the
^^Blanshard, Reason and Goodness, p. 3^6.
I perceptually given a world of things. Prom that point on,
i
Its work consists chiefly In bringing to light the rela-
! tions connecting the objects of experience.
i To sum up the operation of reason among the
! qualities with which experience begins; the intellec-
1 tual impulse is at work from the beginning, seeking
I to order the welter of impressions into accordance
i with its own pattern. It works in the following prin
ciple ways, (l) It recognizes in particular impres-
i slons examples of universals or as suches. (2) On the
grounds chiefly of association, it organizes groups of
1 these universals into things, with the result that in
perception it can take one of them as indicating the
presence of the rest. (3) It grasps some of these
characters as mutually exclusive. (4) Between the
others it grasps a great variety of connections, some
apparently accidental, some necessary, some--llke the
causal connection--that are neither wholly the one nor
the other. But relations that fall short of necessity
also fall short of full intelligibility, and hence it
is perpetually trying to resolve them into the neces
sary relations with which it can rest content. (5) In
| like manner, it is perpetually trying to expand the
field of knowledge.57
| Now Just as reason is at work from the beginning introduc-
i
ing order and unity into our initial impressions, so also
reason brings order and design into our initial impulses:
If we ask as to the place of reason in the moral life,
we find this to be analogous to its place in the
theoretical life. Reason is in neither case a form
imposed from without on a content alien to it. It is
already working lmmanently in desire Just as it is at
work in perception. Its business in the moral life is
to order and unify desires, Just as in its theoretical
career its business is to order into a coherent whole
the world of the perceptually given.5°
| 37. Reason, then, is present whenever desire is
; present, and no sharp line can be drawn between them.
57ibid., p. 345. 58lbldtt p> 343.
I 261
"Remove from the desire the Intelligence that Is at work j
in it, and it would collapse in an unrecognizable mass."59 j
I Since reason enters into and fashions the object of every !
1
: desire, every good we seek is to that extent a rational
i
! good. The ends for which we strive are Just as much
1 j
| products of reason as the world we know. It is therefore 1
| :
j absurd to say that reason and goodness are extraneous to
each other. So far as thought enters into desire, it is
the architect of the g o o d . " 6 0 Does reason enter into the j
determination of every sort of good? Indeed it does.
"Reason is Integral to aesthetic and to every other kind
of good, Just as it is to intellectual good."^!
38. But reason does more than create desire by
supplying ends to impulses. It also selects and invents
; means to their realization. This is one respect in which
human intelligence is far superior to animal intelligence.
But its work does not stop here. Our desires sometimes
pull in different directions. I may want to become both
a competent scholar and an undisciplined playboy. Clearly
these ends are incompatible and so are the means to their
attainment. It is reason which reveals this sort of incon-
i
sistency between our desires. And Just as reason makes
I
j clear when our desires conflict, so too it shows us which
! ---
59Ibid., p. 349. 60Ibid., p. 3^7.
! 6lIbid., p. 349.
desires are compatible and mutually supportive. It is
also reason that decides when the ends we seek have been
attained. Finally, it is reason working in and through
desire that sees to it that we do not rest content with a
batch of inferior goods. That is to say, reason insures
that the goods we seek, and the means we select to attain
them, are always in process of revision. As reason con
tinues to exert its pressure for integration, harmony, and
expansion, our actual goods are molded and remolded to
more closely approximate what is ideally good, that which
would satisfy and fulfil wholly.^2
39. We may say, then, that to the question
whether reason has an influence on what we desire, Blan
shard 's reply is clear and unequivocal. The ends of life
are largely fixed by reason. While nature supplies us
with a set of impulses seeking fulfilment, how we satisfy
them is not left wholly or even mainly to impulse or
instinct. Here Blanshard claims to have the findings of
modern psychology on his side:
6^We are able to do no more here than to sketch in
broad outline the formative influence of reason on our
desires, ends, and impulses. A more complete account is
to be found in chap. xiii in Reason and Goodness. But
even that is incomplete, for reason invades every dimen
sion of experience. It is safe to say, I think, that to
the question "What role does reason play in teleological
processes?" Blanshard1s whole idealist system is one
sustained answer.
j ' ’ 263 j
j
On the question whether our ends are inflexibly j
appointed by instincts [contemporary psychology's}
voice is clear and decided: these instincts on the
human level are so malleable and plastic, they demand
| so little in the way of definite ends or routines,
J that we can make almost anything of them. 3
i
We are given wide latitude in how these impulses are to be
j satisfied, and it is left to intelligence, working through
j desire, to select the mode of their fulfilment.
40. So great is the formative influence of
thought that our impulses are themselves alterable by
intelligence. Take, for example, the impulse to satisfy
hunger. Once it is known that the satisfaction of this
impulse will result in Indigestion, food poisoning, or
death, the impulse itself is modified. And Blanshard
! believes: "There is hardly any limit to such modification.
It may proceed so far that impulse is blotted out."64 In
; view of this it is simply not true, as Hume believed, that
reason has ultimately, or in the final analysis, nothing
! to say about what we desire, approve, or find satisfying.
Reason is not the slave of the passions: "Thought or
knowledge may not only influence impulse but even
^^Reason and Goodness, p. 358. See also pp.
! 354, 366.
I 263. Cf. "Even so powerful an
! Impulse as the sexual may be effectively killed, at least
; in its normal form, by some early disastrous adventure
; with it." Ibid.
264
extirpate it."65
In the debate about reason and feeling Hume and his
succession were wrong. It Is not empirically true
! that 'reason Is the slave of the passions'. The
j Humlans were right, Indeed, In holding feeling to be
so linked with goodness that its presence was a condi-
i tion of goodness; we have argued that satisfaction is
necessary, and satisfaction is a feeling. But it is
j not this feeling that impulse-desire is seeking; it
is a special kind of fulfilment which, when attained,
I brings the feeling with it. To lodge the goodness in
! the feeling alone, as many of Hume's successors have
! done, and as all hedonists do, is arbitrary. To say,
as Hume did, that reason is merely a servant or instru
ment to ends independently set by feeling, is to mis
describe plain fact. What is good is the achievement
of the end; in this end the fulfilling content is as
important as the satisfaction; and in the determina
tion of that fulfilling content, reason is absolutely
essential. 1 °
4l. It is Blanshard's view, then, that reason
and goodness are not extraneous to each other. Since
reason enters into the determination of every good, it is
> a mistake to suppose that values are wholly a matter of
I
' feeling or that value Judgments merely express non-
cognitive attitudes.
So again we see how myopic the theory is that would
make value a matter of feeling alone.... We are not
denying the importance of feeling; we have admitted
that in the forms of satisfaction it is indispensable
to value. What we are pointing out is that there is
another and independent variable--we have called it
fulfilment--which is indispensable too, that this
element is organic to impulse, endowing it with its
special character, and that this formative element
^Ibld. see also pp. 81-90, 350. Blanshard is
not, of course, attributing to Hume the view that reason
plays no role at all in these matters.
66Ibld., pp. 347-48.
j 265
j Is itself so plastic to intelligence, so shaped and
! reshaped by it, so susceptible to its excisions and
' corrections and enlargements, that one may almost say
it is constituted by Intelligence. Human good, in
short, is a rational good.”'
I
S 42. There is, it should be noted, an element of
1
] ambiguity in this. On the one hand, Blanshard tells us j
j
that human goods are natural and objective because, given i
human nature with Its drives and needs, some things will
1 truly fulfil and satisfy us while other things will not.
On the other hand, we are told that this system of impulse-
desire of which human nature is comprised is alterable by
reason. Not only is the specific form satisfaction takes
plastic to Intelligence, but, Blanshard says, our very
; impulses can be eradicated by it. Now, if what is good
(fulfilling and satisfying) answers to (is the object of)
j a system of impulse-desires itself in constant revision,
i
what has happened to the hard bedrock of human nature with
its set of drives and demands upon which the objectivity
of goodness and of value judgments is said to rest?
Though goodness remains the same, it seems clear that
Blanshard shifts that upon which the objectivity of
i goodness rests from the foundation of human nature to
that of a reorganizing intelligence. The shift Is signi-
i
1
| fleant, for if thought can mold and remold our impulses,
i
desires, and ends, it can restructure our values and our
j 67ibld., P. 366.
| moral life almost without limit. Particular things and
processes that are good (fulfilling and satisfying) at
one stage of life may be much less good or even relatively
I
bad at another. So It Is not clear wherein the objectivity
i
of goodness lies. Its locus seems to be In two places:
j
(l) the set of drives which constitute human nature, and
; (2) man's thought processes. Perhaps this ambiguity is
Inevitable If, like Blanshard, one wants to be able to
say that our goods or values are objective, natural,
rational, and at the same time susceptible to continual
modification, refinement, and Improvement.
43. The many and diverse functions that are
attributed to reason or thought naturally leads one to
ask, With what boundaries does Blanshard use this term?
His writings reveal, I think, that he sets no sharp
boundaries to its use. Wherever there is teleological
determination--and Blanshard finds it everywhere--reason
is in some degree present. But despite the imprecision
which attaches to this concept, it might be useful to set
out in summary form the main work of reason. Let us
; consider flr3t the function of reason in moral experience:
(l) Reason converts Impulse into desire by supplying the
I former with conscious ends. (2) It is reason which
1 decides when these ends have been achieved. (3) Reason
. brings unity and order into our desires. (4) Reason
| enables a person to recognize some desires as mutually
I 267
| supportive and others as inconsistent. (5) It is reason
!
I that discloses the values of different sorts of fulfilment. 1
!
I (6) It is the business of reason to weigh competing values
1
and to measure against each other the value of an end and
j
the disvalue (if any) of the means to its realization. j
! (7) It is the function of reason to trace the consequences I
I of acts. (8) Reason transforms our impulses and desires
i
by placing them in a larger context and by bringing to
bear the more remote implications of their indulgence.
(9) It is reason which enables one to see that some value
statements entail others and that facts can be logically
as well as causally relevant to value Judgments. (10)
Since it is reason that apprehends universals or identi
ties or as suches, it is reason which enables one to
recognize one act as being identical in kind (i.e. identi
cal in morally relevant respects) to other acts. (11)
Since one must in one's appraisals discount morally
irrelevant considerations if one is to be impartial, and
since it is reason which prescribes which features of acts
are morally relevant and which are not, it is reason which
. makes possible impartiality and Justice. (12) It is by
reason that one sees certain acts to imply a wider social
j system and perhaps even a whole way of life. (13) It is
I
reason that determines the object of all rational desire,
: which in turn is the ground of all rights and duties.
I (14) The solidarity of mankind lies with the rational will
268 i
I
I which insures that, at the deepest level of their being, j
I !
i all men desire the same ends. (15) Reason dampens impul- j
! siveness in conduct and produces serenity of mind. (16) !
I
i It is reason which enables us to sit in Judgment on our-
l
selves, to formulate principles of conduct and to be
j guided by them. (17) Every moral intuition is an insight ■
| of reason.
!
44. Outside the domain of moral experience,
reason has other functions.68 xt enables us to abstract,
to make explicit inferences, and to search out causal laws.
It is reason that enables us to frame and follow an argu
ment, to grasp necessary connections between concepts, and
to apprehend necessary truths. Reason is, moreover,
[
responsible for an extraordinary variety of insights.
| These insights seem to be of no single type, nor are they
i
restricted to a single subject matter. The scientist's
grasp of causal law, the philosopher's grasp of necessities
in logic and mathematics and ethics, and the artist's
grasp of aesthetic proportion and harmony are all products
of reason. Nor is reason confined in its operations to the
j conscious level. We have it in Blanshard's words that
"reasoning of much complexity may go on below the level
(
| -----------------------
; ^See Blanshard, Reason and Analysis, chap. ii.
_ _ 269
of explicit consciousness."^9 Reason, for Blanshard, is
' plainly a complex affair.7° it has so many diverse
| functions, so many different meanings, that a search for j
! a single invarient meaning or a common core appears futile.
| j
! About all one can say is that Blanshard1s conception of I
reason--one might say the essence of reason--is teleologi- ^
i cal. In whatever dimension of experience it finds expres-
I
i sion— theoretical, moral, or aesthetic--its purpose is to
introduce order or system.7^ Everywhere reason exerts its
pressure toward coherence, consistency, harmony, wholeness.
In our theoretical life the office of reason is "to arrange
69The Nature of Thought, I, 95* Instances of sub
conscious reasoning are given by Blanshard in Vol. II,
| chap. xxiv.
; ^°For Blanshard, as for other idealists, "reason"
j is a term of considerable sweep. Just what is to be
i included in its scope depends upon the sense in which it
! is being used. In its narrowest sense, Blanshard means by
; it the grasp of necessary connections in which thought
comes to rest. This function of reason is most clearly
; exemplified in logic and mathematics. In a somewhat wider
sense, it encompasses causal and inductive reasoning. In
the passages we have quoted, Blanshard seems to use the
word "reason" in a still more inclusive sense. If one
looks at chap. xiii of Reason and Goodness and chap. xxiv
of The Nature of Thought, one finds the terms "thought"
: and "reason" used almost interchangeably. Having some
: difficulty getting clear on his use of these terms, I
| wrote Blanshard asking him if he intended the two terms
to cover the same ground. I received a very kind reply.
In his letter Blanshard said he does not Intend "thought"
and "reason" to cover the same ground. "Thought" is the
; more inclusive term.
"^Blanshard thinks this description of his
! conception of reason is a good one.
270
| the materials of experience In a more Intelligible order.
I
... it exercises a similar pressure toward rationality
j of conduct, its material in this case being impulses
| rather than concepts."?2 it j_s in every region of exper
ience the persistent drive toward system and structure. i
j I
! But to know this is not to know a great deal, for the I
i j
| structure or order or system which reason fosters is not
|
i of one sort. A fully integrated and harmonized system of
impulse-desires is quite different from a completely
elaborated system of intelligible concepts. And a network
of interrelated concepts is quite unlike any masterpiece
of art. The words "unity," "consistency," "coherence,"
"integration," "interrelatedness of parts," "completeness,"
"structure," "order" surely do not mean the same thing
j when used in the context of appraising a musical score or
i
a painting or a sculpture or a well-spun tale as they do
when one is speaking of a system of geometry or of logic
or of mechanical principles. That is not to say that
these words should not be used to describe such diverse
"systems"; it is only to suggest that these words have
, different criteria for their application as one moves from
one system to another. So even if reason is guided by the
i
j implicit ideal of system in all its operations, it cannot
be denied that the phrase "ideal of system" masks a good
| , , . ■ -----
I 72Blanshard, Reason and Analysis, p. 387.
r ~ ' ...................” ' _ ~ ~ 2711
i i
| deal of ambiguity. It does very little to enlighten one j
on the common end or purpose which all functions of reason !
! supposedly serve. J
i 45. Does this mean that the various systems J
|
1 toward which reason pulls have nothing in common? Not
[ exactly; it is Blanshard's contention that necessities !
1 ,
i are present in every system. Every part in every system
1 implies (necessitates) and is implied (necessitated) by
1
all other parts in that system. Despite their dissimilar
ity, then, all systems have this in common: they are
possessed of an inner necessity such that every fragment
entails a larger whole. On the face of it, this is a
1 startling view. Can it be plausibly maintained that the
parts of every system are necessarily connected?
i A steam engine is a whole; so is a poem; so is a
i house, a horse, a flower, a century, a mind. Our
remark, at its face value, would mean that the parts
of these wholes were related to the other parts neces
sarily, and might be said to even imply them. And this
seems odd. Is there any sense in saying that in a
given engine the valves imply the drive-shaft, or that
in a given painting one figure necessitates another?'-^
Blanshard's reply is that there is a great deal of sense
in this claim. Still the conviction persists that this is
a gross oversimplification. One desire surely does not
! imply or entail another desire or an entire system of
I
; desires in the same way that definitions and axioms entail
j theorems and ultimately a system of geometry. The shape
j 73The Nature of Thought, II, 435.
272 j
or color or size of an object In the foreground of a j
painting does not necessitate the dark line In the back- j
; ground In the same way that the premises of a syllogism
I
necessitates a conclusion. There may well be a sort of
i
I
' necessity linking the middle of a Shakespearean play with
j
I Its conclusion and one might speak of the conclusion as
I
! Implicit In the stages leading to it, but the linkage Is
i
1 not of the same sort as that found in, say, logic and
mathematics. So to say that all systems are shot through
with necessities does little to clarify that in virtue of
which systems from every department of experience are alike;
46. But Blanshard is not at all reluctant to
; admit this. He writes:
!
Is there some relation between part and part within a
| whole that appears with unaffected sameness in systems
j as extremely different as the multiplication table, a
| sonnet, a starfish, and the science of modern physics?
... whoever goes quarrying for this hidden identity
will find himself curiously baffled. He can say . . .
that in all these cases there is some kind or other of
whole, and that within it each part takes its special
character from the others within that whole. And to
say this is not simply useless. On the other hand., it
must be admitted to be singularly unenlightening.•4
Necessity, then, is not of a single type.
j Necessity is not a single golden thread that in all
i fabrics remains the same. ... It takes its character
from its context, that is, from the wholes it appears
| in, and these wholes are extremely various. To exhaust
7 Ibid., p. 436. Cf. "There is no single abstract
i relation that relates in precisely the same fashion the
I parts of a machine and the propositions of Euclid and the
notes in a song." Ibid., p. 437.
| the meaning of necessity we would have to exhaust the
' varieties of whole which impose upon their parts any
sort of interdependence.75
| In the final analysis all one can do is to describe the
I
! wholes or systems which reason elucidates and toward which
it pushes to note how the features of each system depend
! upon one another and how the kind of interdependence o r
| interrelatedness exhibited in one system differs from that
found in others.
47. (9) The desirable is not merely the desired.
Blanshard has said that what is intrinsically good answers
to the main types of impulse-desire and that whatever
satisfies these desires is good. Since we cannot help
desiring what fulfils and satisfies, that is what is good
or desirable, the desired and the desirable seem to coin-
; cide. Now anyone who embraces the view that the desirable
i
is the desired must face some telling objections: (l)
that something might be good but not desired or appreciated
by anyone, and (2) that something bad might be intensely
desired.7^
^ Ibld., p. 438. Cf. "Implication is systematic
interdependence. It is a relation between parts of a
whole imposed on them by the nature of the whole itself.
Since there are many kinds of whole, there are many
j varieties of implication. Since wholes, again, have many
1 degrees of unity, there are many degrees of necessity."
: Ibid., p. 430.
^Blanshard, Reason and Goodness, pp. 177* 276-77*
With respect to the second objection it must be remembered
that Blanshard thinks that when a person desires what is
really bad he does so thinking it is good. In other
274
48. Blanshard thinks these are weighty objections
and concludes that It is a mistake to flatly identify the
| desired with the desirable. Nor does his account of good-
i
ness require him to say otherwise. There are several
!
reasons why the desirable exceeds the desired. Firstly, i
j i
because our desires always grow out of past satisfactions, !
and because our satisfactions are limited, it is always
! possible that with greater experience to draw upon we
| would find some things desirable that we do not now regard
as such. Secondly, as we mature our desires change.
Reason is always at work molding our desires and revising
the ends we seek. This means that what satisfies our
: desires at one stage in our development will not do so at
another. What we ardently prize now may seem quite unat-
| tractive to us later. "The desired," Blanshard says,
I
' "becomes the undesired and is stowed quietly away in the
; words, what a person really or truly or rationally desires
may not be what he actually desires. That our actual
desires may be quite different from our rational desires
is a view similar to one he defends in his political philo
sophy. There he distinguishes between the real or rational
or general will and the actual will. The former is a
drive, present in all men, toward rationality, toward a
: common moral end, toward the collective good. The state
| (at least ideally) is the embodiment of this will and that
is its only justification. So long as it is an effective
j instrument for realizing this common good, we have the
obligation to obey its law3. Blanshard's ethics and poli-
i tical philosophy are therefore mutually supportive. The
I object of the real will is the collective good, which is
I the basis for all rights and duties, individual and
, political. Blanshard1 s presentation and defense of the
doctrine of the real will is found in Reason and Goodness,
p. 394ff.
r “ '. . ’ ~ " ” 275
! cellar of the undesirable .'*77 Thirdly, any particular good
1 we can think of (or desire) is to some extent defective.
| What would completely fulfil and satisfy we do not know;
j we can only point in the direction where it would be
found. We do know this, that what is truly desirable, or j
! what would completely satisfy and fulfil our impulse- ■
I
[ desires were they fully informed and developed, is nothing
i less than perfect knowledge, perfect beauty, and perfect
goodness. These of course lie at the rainbow's end.7®
The best we will ever have is approximations to them.
Nonetheless, these are the ends all men consciously or
unconsciously seek; it is their realization that would
bring complete fulfilment and satisfaction.79
77jbid., p. 308. Cf. "Desire is not the sort of
1 experience that either has a definite object or does not
; exist at all. Much of life is a seeking for we know not
what. Our reach continually exceeds our grasp. We cannot
say that what we desire exhausts the desirable, because
(a) there is so much we do not care about which we recog-
, nize we might well care about, and (b) so much that we
now find attractive whose attention will inevitably fade
as our desires grow beyond them." Ibid., pp. 305-6.
7%lanshard, The Nature of Thought, I, 490.
79should someone retort that he does not seek
these things, Blanshard would not be troubled. These
■ are the ends appointed by nature for man to pursue, and
he does so whether he is aware of it or not. In any case,
I no mortal is fully (or explicitly) conscious of what would
j truly fulfil and satisfy his nature. This by itself shows
: that what is truly desirable does not reduce without
remainder to what one is conscious of desiring.
dfO
49. For these reasons we cannot equate the
desirable with what we presently desire. The really
desirable will always lie beyond what we explicitly desire.
In another sense, however, the desirable is the desired.
The two cover the same ground if we mean by the desired
what would satisfy desire that is fully informed.
In short, the desirable outruns the desired if that
means what is explicitly desired at the moment. It
is identical with the desired if that means what fully-
developed impulse-desire would find satisfying.ao
The desirable cannot, then, be defined in terms of what
we actually desire; rather it is to be defined in terms
of what we would desire were our desires fully developed,
integrated, and rationally informed. What Blanshard is
defending is clearly an ideal naturalism as opposed to a
factual naturalism.®1
50. Once again it is apparent how much Blanshard's
naturalism is colored by his account of human nature. It
is precisely here, Blanshard thinks, where those natural
ists who equate the desirable with what is in fact liked,
approved, favored, or desired go wrong. They begin with
a fundamental misconception of human nature;
They fail to take due account of the elastic and
expansive character of desire, because they fall to
connect it with the fundamental teleology of mind.
Mind Just is, in the view taken here, a set of
®OBlanshard, Reason and Goodness, p. 307.
^These are C. D. Broad's terms. See his Five
Types of Ethical Theory, p. 262.
j 277
i
activities directed to ends. It is these ends alone
that are, or would be, good without qualification, for
only they are fully satisfactory .... But at any
stage of our advance, these ends are indefinitely far |
j ahead. Hence to take the objects in which our desires,
| cognitive, moral, or aesthetic, find satisfaction at
; the moment, and call them good without qualification,
I is to freeze into immobility what in its very nature
; is in motion and self-creative. It is true that what I
| satisfies is so far, good. But if present satisfaction!
I is looked at in the light of the history and prospects '
i of mind, it is equally true to say that what satisfies
| is never good. There is no real paradox here. There
j is only the requirement that we see things in perspec-
i tive, that we view the career of mind as the long
pilgrimage that it actually is, in which the values of
a given time offer us, not a continuing stay, but
rather a halting-place for the night. Once we see
this plainly, we cannot go on saying without qualifica
tion that whatever is liked or desired is thereby
good .82
51. (10) Moral Judgments are cognitive. For
Blanshard there is a necessary connection between the
descriptive aspects of experiences and their value. Since
j it is the function of reason to search out and to trace
; threads of necessity wherever they are found,reason can
ascribe goodness and badness to experiences. In short,
reason can proceed from facts to values. From the descrip
tive statement "X fulfils and satisfies an integrated set
of human d e s i r e s "84 the evaluative statement "X is good or
! desirable" logically follows. And since Judgments of
j 82f l eason anf l Goodness, p. 309. Also see p. 316.
| ^3Reason anf l Analysis, pp. 382, 422.
8\e shall see shortly that this statement is not
j purely descriptive and that any account of experience that
I confines itself to purely descriptive concepts will only
| distort experience.
278
i right and duty follow from the fundamental moral Judgment,
I
i the Judgment of good, we can move from facts about human
! nature to what is right and obligatory. Reason, then, is
i
| an instrument of moral insight. Apprised of the facts,
i
i reason can tell us what is good and what we ought to do.
| 52. Because the goodness of an experience turns
! on factual considerations, moral disputes are susceptible
> of solution. All that is necessary is to bring to light
all the relevant fact3. Given complete factual agreement
on the fulfilling and satisfying aspects of an experience,
there will be no disagreement as to its goodness.A
person cannot desire (or think good) what he clearly sees
to be bad.
I
i __
®^This is not a popular position to take. Charles
i Stevenson believes it is possible for two persons to be in
i complete factual agreement about some matter and yet to
! disagree ethically about it. Toulmln concurs, writing,
"there may be ethical differences, even when all sources of
factual disagreement have been ruled out." An Examination
of the Place of Reason in Ethics, p. 44. For Stevenson's
remarks see his book Ethics and Language (New Haven: Yale
University Press, 1967), P* 1^. Blanshard would say that
so long as the facts to which one refers do not reflect
the teleological dimension of experience, Toulmin and
Stevenson are right. But if the facts take into account
the end-seeking character of experience, as indeed they
must, factual agreement rules out ethical disagreement.
That is to say, if it is recognized that an activity does
in fact fulfil and satisfy a human drive, that the activity
j is a partial realization of an end set by our nature, an
end which we are determined by virtue of our nature to
; pursue, that activity cannot be found other than desirable
! by human beings. So once there is agreement on the
: fulfilling and satisfying aspects of an activity, agree-
ment on its value is assured.
j 279
I
53. But though ethical disputes are open to solu
tion, they cannot be settled by mere observation. Good
ness, while something natural, isn't a sense property like
:cold, hard, or yellow.88 The presence of fulfilment in an
1 experience cannot be verified in the same way one verifies
|
the presence of spots on a leopard. If "good" meant "is
I desired," then of course ethical disagreement could be
brought to a speedy resolution. All that would be neces
sary is to introspect or to take a poll. The trouble with
simple desire or interest theories is that if interest or
desire by itself creates value, nothing can be said to be
good before desire or interest is aroused. If interest
alone creates value, there is nothing that Justifies
interest being taken in an object.87 These analyses, by
! leaving no basis in the object to justify our desire,
Interest, or approval, have the cart before the horse.
As we have seen, Blanshard holds that something can be good
or desirable even though no one takes an interest in it or
consciously desires it, and that something can be bad even
though some (or even most) people are energetically trying
®^Blanshard, Reason and Goodness, p. 212.
8?Cf. "We seem to have the stubborn conviction
jthat whatever may be the facts of men’s interest, some
| things are worth their devotion and others not, and there-
1 fore that our interests should be adjusted to, and
.appraised by, the goodness, not the other way round."
; Ibid., pp. 278-79. Blanshard thinks Perry's theory may be
| criticized on this score. See pp. 27^-80 of the same work.
280
to obtain it. Consequently, what is truly good or worthy
to be desired cannot be settled by empirical means.
I Observation cannot tell us what we would find wholly
I
i fulfilling and satisfying were we in possession of a set
of rational desires immeasurably refined beyond those we
j presently have. For that matter, we often do not know
i
i what would bring our present desires to rest.
' 54. Value Judgments do, then, assert facts of a
| sort. To say of an experience that it i3 intrinsically
worthwhile is to assert that it is a fulfilment of
inherent potentialities. But since we shall never exper
ience complete self-realization, what is Ideally good is
not verifiable now and never will be. Still the cumula
tive experience of the race has shown some things to be
j enduringly fulfilling and satisfying and other things
i
much less so.
There are some things, indeed many things, which may
now be regarded as settled, that there is some know
ledge and poetry and music that in virtue of having
been found fulfilling and satisfying by actual ven
tures into it, repeated ten thousand times, may now be
held without presumption to be really good and enor
mously superior to some others.
Cf. "What is good, then, in the sense of what
would wholly fulfil and satisfy, is not to be determined
! by an empirical study of what men actually like, desire,
{ or approve." Ibid., p. 316. On this matter Blanshard is
| in complete agreement with Broad and Ewing. See Broad's
i Five Types of Ethical Theory, p. 115; and Ewing's The
| Definition of Good, pp. 40-4l, 74.
®^Blanshard, Reason and Goodness, p. 367.
281
Unless human nature undergoes drastic revision, It is
unlikely that any of this will change. If we cannot
! verify Judgments to the effect that "X is ideally good,"
| what has been and is presently found fulfilling and satis-
i fying is at least relevant evidence. If past experience
| cannot establish the claim "X is completely fulfilling !
and satisfying," it can at least provide the grounds for
i dismissing candidates that are unsuitable.
55. Whatever Blanshard may think, this notion of
"fulfilment" is bound to cause problems. Whether an
experience satisfies or is pleasurable is sensed or felt,
however difficult it may be to measure. But whether an
experience is in fact fulfilling is not (in every case at
least) felt. A person may take much satisfaction in
collecting every shape and size of rock. Does he also
: find that activity fulfilling? He cannot say, "Well, it
gives me Immense satisfaction, so it must be immensely
fulfilling too," for fulfilment and satisfaction vary
Independently. How then can he know how fulfilling
collecting rocks is? How Is anyone to know when one
experience is more fulfilling and therefore intrinsically
i
better than another, assuming both experiences are equally
| satisfying? Blanshard never raises this question. I
I suspect the only appeal would be to intuition, that we
! Just "see" or directly apprehend one experience to be more
j
| fulfilling than another: Either that, or admit that we
j 282
| can seldom know one experience is better than another. It
is possible to say, of course, that there is an objective
better and worse, that some experiences are intrinsically j
more worthwhile (i.e. more fulfilling and satisfying) than j
I
others, but that, because we seldom if ever are able to j
[ !
know how fulfilling an experience is for us, we are seldom 1
! if ever able to say how good an experience is. I very
much doubt, however, that this is a position Blanshard
would want to take, since it very nearly carries one into
the camp of the moral skeptic.
56. That Blanshard believes value Judgments, at
least in the main, can be verified, that he believes they
assert some kind of fact, and that he believes it is
possible to be mistaken in such Judgments says something
about the logic he attributes to them. It is clear that
I
he thinks value Judgments are in some sense objective.
But though he adopts the model of factual statements in
his analysis of value Judgments, he does not admit to
having assimilated the logic of value Judgments to that
of either mathematical or simple empirical Judgments.90
9®In the case of some Judgments, however, he does
come very close to it. Commenting on Samuel Clarke's view
j that value judgments are like mathematical Judgments
j Blanshard says, "In our Judgment that a gratuitous false-
i hood is wrong there is surely something very like self-
| evidence. Such a judgment is not like 'this rose is
: yellow', where, for all we can see, the flower might Just
; as well have some other colour, for the wrongness of lying
1 seems to arise out of the character of lying as such. It
| does not always arise out of ill effects that we can
| His opinion seems to be this, that value Judgments are
I
.objective and like mathematical and empirical Judgments
| in the sense that they are or may be true, in the sense
! that we can Justify our believing them to be true by
giving reasons, in the sense that their truth or falsity
|
| does not depend solely on private tastes, feelings,, or
j
I beliefs, in the sense that we feel compelled to make our
value Judgments consistent with each other.
57. Goodness, Blanshard thinks, is at once
objective, natural, and non-sensible.
Goodness cannot be analysed as a sensible property
that can be seen with the eye or pointed at with the
finger. ... I think that there is an objective good
ness. I think that this goodness must be analysed in
naturalistic terms, though not in the naively dogmatic
and restricted terms alone permitted by positivism.
Value Judgments reflect the character of goodness. This
i
1 means that they are objective, that they are verifiable,
foresee, since even if there is nothing to choose between
j the foreseeable consequences of lying and telling the
truth, we should still find something morally unfitting in
wanton deception. Nor does the Judgment seem like a
deduction from anything else. If someone were to challenge
us and say that in these circumstances lying was a perfect
ly right and proper course, we should suspect that he was
; being cleverly perverse, and if he proved serious and
persisted, we should probably be puzzled how to proceed.
J The case, as Clarke would remind us, is like that of two
and two making four; if someone challenges that, you feel
i little hope of finding anything clearer or more certain
j that you can offer as evidence for it." Reason and
! Goodness, pp. 7^-75.
91Ibid., p. 212.
and that they are statements of fact, though not of
sensible fact.
| Whether an object does in fact fulfil and satisfy is
; something that can be determined without going outside
nature as we conceive it. But ... we do not conceive
human nature as naturalists commonly do. It is so
thoroughly teleological that it cannot be understood
| apart from what it is seeking to become.92
i The claim that goodness is something natural but is not a
i
sensible property is not, however, original with Blanshard.
t
There is nothing novel about such a position. The
goodness talked about by Aristotle, Butler, Sidgwick,
and even Green is a natural goodness, even though it
cannot be seen or touched; to speak of an experience
as good ... in the degree to which it is a fulfilment
of human faculty is perfectly legitimate, whether the
notion goes beyond sense or not.°3
92Ibid., p. 316.
93ibld., p. 212. If the reader wants a careful
statement from Blanshard as to what he means by "natural
! goodness," he will be disappointed. He will be told that
! goodness is at once something natural and non-sensible,
! and that the presence of goodness in an experience can be
detected without going outside nature or experience. He
will then find that human nature and human experience is
teleological in character, that it cannot be understood
except in light of its end, in light of what it is trying
to become. This end is of course an ideal which is never
fully realized. At the same time, it is in virtue of this
end that any experience is what it is or has the value
that it has. If it is possible, in view of all this, to
give a clear statement of what Blanshard means by
natural," I do not know what it would be. The natural
' and the ideal seem somehow to melt into each other. One
might say, I suppose, that natural goodness i£ a partial
fulfilment of a purpose or end, that any natural good jj3
j potentially an ideal good or that the ideally good exists
; potentially in a natural good, that the ideally good would
i be perfect natural goodness. But these statements do
little to clear matters up. It Is my own belief that it
: would be less misleading if Blanshard did not call his
' ethics a species of naturalism and his definition of good
I a naturalistic definition. As we shall see, the concepts
j There are those who would confine the natural to the
i
i
i sensible or to what is verifiable in sense perception.
| This is the position of the positivists who deny both the
i
' • existence and meaningfulness of non-sensible facts or
i
| truths. Any factual statement, they maintain, must be
i
| empirically verifiable. Since ethical statements are not,
j
I there are no ethical facts. Since ethical statements can-
1 not be verified by a simple inspection of meaning either,
they aren't analytic.91 * And since all meaningful state
ments are either empirical or analytic, ethical statements
are cognitively senseless. They assert nothing; their
only function is to express feeling or emotion and to
arouse it in others. Because there are no distinctively
ethical facts or truths, genuine ethical disagreement
: turns on differences in attitude. It is therefore possible
for two persons to be in complete agreement on factual
matters but to disagree ethically.
58. Blanshard does not buy any of this. He is
convinced that the restrictions the positivists place on
i "fulfilment" and "satisfaction" are not purely descriptive
: concepts insofar as the criteria for their application
does involve a value Judgment.
j ^Ethical statements, the positivists contend, are
| not empirical because goodness and rightness are not
; sensible qualities that can be seen like a color, heard
like a sound, or felt like a shape. Ethical statements
: are not analytic because they can be denied without self-
; contradiction. Hence ethical statements are pseudo-
1 statements and moral concepts have emotive meaning only.
experience and on the meaningful is wholly unwarranted.
Our moral experience Is as Important a dimension of
experience as what is given in sense perception and is
Just as deserving of careful inspection. The positivists
assume that all experience is Bense experience, not
because they have looked at experience and judged its
limits, but because their theory of knowledge, itself
indefensible, requires it. In the positivist program we
have a clear case of "twisting . . . what . . . experience
reports in the interest of a method seemingly adopted
a priori."95
59. But even if we agree with Blanshard, as over
against the positivists, that moral experience is a legi
timate domain of experience, that moral judgments do
assert facts, and that we can pass from facts to values,
the attempt to verify value judgments does seem to involve
circular reasoning. If A thinks X is better than Y while
B thinks Y is better than X, how can either man establish
that his choice is the more fulfilling and satisfying,
that his choice is the object of a more developed and
integrated set of desires? Clearly, neither A nor B can
point to his own desires as evidence that his desires are
95Bianshard, Reason and Goodness, p. 187.
Blanshard gives extensive criticism of the positivist
theory of knowledge in his Reason and Analysis. The
interested reader will find chaps, iii, v, vi, and vii
of primary importance.
j 287 I
i
| the most rational and comprehensive. For either to Justify!
his own desires by citing what he desires as evidence is |
! to beg the question. To be sure, A and B might go to C, !
I someone whose opinion they respect, and ask him to decide |
| 1
! whose desires are the more developed. But C can Judge I
I |
I only on the basis of his desires, so the question again
]
| arises: Why do C's desires more adequately reflect the
j
ipotentialities inherent in human nature than either A or
B's? So long as the desirable depends on what is (in some
way or sense) desired, I see no way this circle can
be broken.
But does the desirable have to depend on the
desired? May it not be said that the way to decide which
i
i
set of desires most adequately reflects human potentiality
' is to see which set is the most harmonious, the most free
I
■ of conflict? If it can be claimed that one set of desires
exemplifies greater harmony than another set without using
a3 evidence for that Judgment what someone desires, the
circle is broken.^ But assuming circularity can be
avoided if this route is taken, the question afrises why
: harmony among desires should be taken as the criterion by
which to Judge the desirability or goodness of particular
| sets of desires. Is It not possible that men such as
^On the other hand, if one set of desires is
: Judged to be more harmonious than another only because
| that set is preferred by someone, the circle Is not broken.
| 288
Hitler are possessed of desires that are on the whole
mutually supportive? Is there any reason to suppose that
| someone who is a battering ram of uninhibited power, some- !
I j
j one whose desires all pull in one direction, is possessed j
’ j
of a system of desires that is preferable to a less
j |
j harmonious, more conflicting system?
i
j 60. It is clear that Blanshard does not construe
value Judgments as straightforward empirical statements
asserting the presence or absence of some sensible
property. It is equally clear that he does not construe
value Judgments as statements asserting the presence or
absence of nonnatural qualities. But though he insists
that value Judgments are neither statements of sensible
l
i
fact nor statements of non-sensible fact, it is never
spelled out plainly Just how value Judgments are to be
elucidated. We are told only that not all natural
properties are sense properties and that value statements
assert the presence or absence of characteristics that are
at once natural and non-sensible. Value Judgments are said
to be descriptive of a range of natural facts which are
verified by past experience (in the case of those values
that have stood the test of time) or by introspecting
J one's experience (in the case of new values) to find
t
! evidence of fulfilment and satisfaction. Whether in
j introspection one can be mistaken, and if so, how one is
| to determine when one is mistaken, and when one is not,
289
i is, so far as I have been able to discover, never
i
discussed by Blanshard. But this needs to be discussed,
i unless one is prepared to show that with respect to
i
: factual matters of this sort mistakes are impossible.
One can only wish that Blanshard had given fuller treat-
| ment to this subject and that he had taken more pains to
! clarify how, in particular, the fulfilling aspects of an
experience are to be discerned and measured.
61. (ll) Blanshard's Naturalism and the
Naturalistic Fallacy. Blanshard thinks "good1 1 (in its
ethical sense) means something natural, viz. fulfilment
and satisfaction.97 it is not only that goodness is
invariably accompanied by fulfilment and satisfaction,98
not only that they are the test of the presence of
97jt might be argued that the statement "'Good'
means (or goodness is) fulfilment and satisfaction" is a
definition only and that all definitions are analytic or
tautologous. Blanshard rejects this argument. He insists
that the question "What does good mean? cannot be settled
by linguistic stipulation. The issue isn't what goodness
is to be called but what it is. And what goodness i£
isn't plastic to definition. That it is fulfilment and
satisfaction is known by intuition, which is a form of
rational insight, an insight which is not defensible by
argument or susceptible of formal proof. Blanshard's
: naturalistic objectivism rests on an intuitional base.
9®lt never safe to assume that because two
; things are always found together they are the same thing,
j Size always accompanies shape and shape always accompanies
; size, but size and shape are not the same thing. Shape
j and size, Blanshard thinks, are synthetically linked by
the relation of entailment. The relation between goodness
: and fulfilment/satisfaction is not of this kind.
I 290
I
goodness, but that goodness l£ fulfilment and satisfaction,
j that they are literally and numerically the same.
; 62. To say that fulfilment and satisfaction give !
j the meaning of good when we speak of experiences good in
themselves opens Blanshard to Moore's charge of committing
[ the naturalistic fallacy. Moore thought all naturalistic •
| and metaphysical systems of ethics fall victim to this i
fallacy and that the fallacy becomes apparent once we
consider the implications of any proposed definition.99
Turning to Blanshard's definition, Moore would say that
if "good" means fulfilment and satisfaction, we must
accept these conclusions: (a) That when we say "Whatever
: fulfils and satisfies is good" we mean nothing more than
I
"Whatever fulfils and satisfies, fulfils and satisfies."
If we do mean more than this, we are dealing with two
notions, not one, and our definition must be mistaken.
(b) That to ask of something that fulfils and satisfies
1
whether it is really good is absurd, for that is to ask
the senseless question "Does what fulfils and satisfies,
fulfil and satisfy?" (c) That there is a formal contra -
i diction in saying "X fulfils and satisfies but is bad."
We should be contradicting ourselves if of an experience
i
1
j we know to be fulfilling and satisfying we express doubt
1
! whether it is really good. If we do not think we would
j ------------------------------------------------------------------------------
j 99g . E. Moore, Prlnclpla Ethlca, pp. 10, 15-17j 38.
I_____________________________________________________________________
! be contradicting ourselves, "good" cannot mean fulfilling
i
: and satisfying.
| 63. Now Blanshard is prepared to accept these
! consequences:
Take any experience you wish that at once fulfils a
j drive of human nature and brings happiness with it,
ask about this experience whether it is intrinsically
1 worth haying, and we suggest that you have the answer
| already. 00
! To suggest that a fulfilling and satisfying experience
might not be worth having in itself is, Blanshard says, to
contradict our own belief .101 Given our nature we cannot
but think desirable what fulfils an impulse and brings
satisfaction. To say of an experience that fulfils and
' satisfies that it may not be desirable or worthwhile in
itself is to say that what is, given our nature, intrinsi-
! cally worthwhile may not be, given our nature, intrinsi-
' cally worthwhile. It doesn't make sense, then, to ask
whether a fulfilling and satisfying experience is good.
And anyone who understands what are the characteristics
of an experience worth having for its own sake will see
that such a question doesn't make sense. But it does
I make sense, Blanshard thinks, to raise this question with
respect to other naturalistic definitions. Given one's
I
1
I nature, one can consistently ask if any object of any
j
! interest is good (Perry), if what gives pleasure is good
lOOReason ancj Goodness, p. 320. • L®1Ibid., p. 319
! 292
I (Mill), if what is more evolved is good (Spencer). Conse-
I
quently, none of these definitions is tenable.
64. Just what Moore meant by the naturalistic
i
i fallacy, or precisely what it involves, is, however, a
i
! matter of debate, (a) Moore says that the concept "good”
is indefinable, so he may have meant by the fallacy the
I
i attempt to define the indefinable. If this is the objec-
!
tion, Blanshard's reply is clear. He simply denies that
’ ’good'' is indefinable .1°^ "Good" is not the name of a
simple unanlyzable property. Goodness is something
complex, consisting of both fulfilment and satisfaction.
65. (b) Moore may have meant by the fallacy the
attempt to define the value concept "good” in terms of
nonvalue concepts. Here the objection would be that
: Blanshard has analyzed "good" in such a way to reduce it
i
to the nonethical. But this objection presupposes (l)
that fulfilment and satisfaction are purely psychological
concepts, and (2) that no psychological concept can be an
ethical concept. Blanshard would deny both presupposi
tions. Psychological concepts are partly descriptive and
j partly evaluative. Because fulfilment and satisfaction
1 HP
I AUCAs Frankena points out, to establish that in
j defining "good" we are defining the indefinable, Moore
i would have to show that goodness is so simple as to be
unanalyzable. Frankena says Moore doesn't prove this;
he simply asserts it. See William Frankena, "The
Naturalistic Fallacy," Mind, XLVIII (October, 1939)>
\ 464-77.
i
j
L_____________________ ._______ __________________________________ ______________________________________________________________________
; 293 j
1 i
| contain both descriptive and evaluative elements, they may j
be correctly labeled as psychological concepts or as
ethical concepts. In fact they are both. That something j
is fulfilling and satisfying is a fact or a description,
!
but it is a fact of a peculiar sort. For to assert that
i j
! something is fulfilling and satisfying is to assert that !
|
! it is a realization of a value or a purpose or an end set
by our nature. These ends--be they aesthetic, moral, or
cognitive--are pressing for realization within experience
and ought to be attained. Values are therefore components
of facts. Values are ends within experience, ends which
ought to be realized.103 And it is in their realization
that goodness (fulfilment/satisfaction) consists.
Fulfilment and satisfaction are, then, teleological
! concepts. As such, they contain both descriptive and
evaluative elements. Since fulfilment and satisfaction
are not wholly descriptive concepts, to define goodness
in terms of them is not to reduce the ethical to the non-
ethical; it is not to make ethics a purely descriptive
science; it is not to make ethics a study of what is
rather than a study of what ought to be. To assume other
wise is to misapprehend the character of experience and
i
j the nature of psychological concepts.10^
j _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
103Blanshard, The Nature of Thought, II, 121.
1 10^So far as Blanshard is concerned, most, if not
I all, psychological concepts are teleological in character
j 66. (c) Frankena has Isolated three fallacies
which Moore might be concerned with, one generic fallacy
and two species of it.^®5 The generic fallacy is the
I
deflnlst fallacy. This is the basic fallacy and the
naturalistic fallacy (which consists in defining an
i
; ethical property or value concept in terms of a natural-
i
i istic one) and the metaphysical fallacy (which consists in
i defining an ethical property or concept in terms of a
| metaphysical one) are two instances of this fallacy or
two ways of committing it. The definlst fallacy involves
simply the confusing of two properties, the defining of
one property in terms of another.
The fallacy is always simply that two properties are
being treated as one, and it is irrelevant, if it be
the case, that one of them is natural or non-ethical
and the other non-natural or ethical. °°
and must therefore be construed as partly descriptive and
partly evaluative. If psychology proposes to rid itself
of all teleological concepts and confine itself to the
purely descriptive, it will only impoverish itself. As
a value-free science it will not be able to deal with any
thought process, conscious or unconscious. It will have
to drop from its field all activities where there is an
impulse to self-fulfilment. Since truth itself is a
value, a purely descriptive psychology will, according to
Blanshard, have to relinquish truth as its aim. See The
I Nature of Thought, II, 119-23.
105prankena, "The Naturalistic Fallacy,"
| pp. 464-77.
; 106Ibid., p. 471.
! ' ‘ 295 !
I
I
57. Although Blanshard does not discuss the
deflnist fallacy as such, I think It is clear how he would
1
j respond to the charge of committing it. To begin with, !
' he would certainly agree that two distinct things should
1
! not be identified. It is precisely this sort of confusion
| (though he doesn't label it the definist fallacy) to which
| Blanshard thinks the behaviorlst falls victim when he
1 identifies conscious processes with their physiological
correlates, when he fails (or refuses) to see that these
are not the same thing. ^7
It is always a mistake, then, to confuse or
identify different things or properties. But the question
before us now is this: Is fulfilment/satisfaction one
thing and goodness another? Are there really two things
here to be confused? Blanshard thinks not. And if they
are in fact the same thing, then there is no fallacy In
"defining one in terms of the other." Goodness isn't
being identified with "something el3e." "Goodness" and
"fulfilment/satisfaction" are merely different labels
^In other words, the definist fallacy Is not
; confined to ethics. The psychologist commits it, Blanshard
! would say, when he equates the experience of pain with
' neurophysiological processes. The physicist commits it
j when he says the color "red" as experienced Just Jj3 a
| certain length of light wave. For Blanshard's remarks on
; this sort of confusion the reader should see Reason and
| Analysis, pp. 211-12, 384; The Nature of Thought, I, 55*
84, 108, 313-40; Brand Blanshard and fe. F. Skinner, "The
! Problem of Consciousness— A Debate," Philosophy and
! Phenomenological Research, XXVII (March, 19&7)* 517-37•
296
j for the same thing.10® In this case, the person who
t
' insists that there are two different things would himself
be guilty of confusion, for he would be seeing distinctions
!
1 where there are none.
j
68. (d) Another interpretation of the fallacy is
I
i that it involves a mistake in inference. Briefly put it
l
! is this: That two terms have the same denotation does
j
' not justify the inference that they also have the same
I connotation. If Identity in connotation is inferred on
the grounds of identity in denotation, the fallacy is
committed.109 Here the charge against Blanshard would be
that having found the terms "good" and "fulfilment/satis-
; faction" apply to the same experiences, he infers from
this that they have the same connotation. But Blanshard
| could reply to this that the connotations are in fact the
same. To establish this he could invite us once again to
apply the simple reflective test to which we have already
alluded. Take any experience judged to be intrinsically
good. Isn't what we mean by its goodness the fact that
it fulfils and satisfies? And isn't it what is meant
I 10®To assume on the strength of different labels
alone that "satisfaction/fulfilment" and "good" cannot
i name or mean the same thing is to falsely assume that
! every noun or adjective is the name of a different prop-
i erty, quality, or character.
; 10^This interpretation of the naturalistic fallacy
i is found in Morton White's Toward Reunion in Philosophy
i (Cambridge: Harvard University tress, 1956), p.
! " ~ ’ " 297
| connotatively by the term "good" (viz. fulfilment and
1 satisfaction) which leads us to apply the term to only
certain kinds of experiences? Put another way, we see
i
i the denotation of the terms "good" and "fulfilment/satis-
j
! faction" are identical because we first see that they have j
| I
I the same connotation. That is why we never call experi- 1
! ences that fulfil and satisfy other than good, or take to
i
i
1 be good (intrinsically) anything that fails to fulfil
and satisfy.
69. (e) One more interpretation of the fallacy
is offered by R. M. Hare. Hare believes the special
function of value words or concepts (and therefore of
moral Judgments) is to prescribe or to guide choices, and
that the naturalist, by defining value concepts in terms
i of descriptive concepts, makes no provision for this
i
particular function of value language.
Value-terms have a special function in language, that
of commending; and so they plainly cannot be defined
in terms of other LPurely descriptive] words which
themselves do not perform this function; for if this
is done, we are deprived of a means of performing
the function. 10
If moral (or value) concepts are construed as purely
descriptive, moral (or value) Judgments will be pure
| statements of fact, and it is Hare’s contention that no
i ~ _
M. Hare, The Language of Morals (New York:
: Oxford University Press, 1966)7 P• 91*
298
: purely factual statement can be action-guiding.111 To
know a fact about a thing is no grounds for desiring it j
i
or choosing it or bringing it into existence. Hence, if !
moral Judgments are to be capable of influencing behavior, j
moral Judgments and moral concepts cannot be entirely j
descriptive. This insight, Hare believes, i3 the logical !
rule behind Hume's insistence that an "ought" statement
cannot be derived from an "is" statement, and the
Infraction of this rule is what is involved in the
naturalist fallacy.112
70. Hare's argument can be put this way: All
naturalists define "good" in terms of good-making char
acteristics; they take the meaning of "good" to be the
inibid., p. 29.
112Ibid., p. 30. For Hume's argument see his
Treatise of Human Nature, ed. by L. A. Selby-Bigge (Oxford:
Clarendon tress, 1967), Bk. Ill, Pt. I, sec. 1, p. 469.
An argument very similar to Hare's is given by Stevenson,
] although Stevenson doesn't connect it with the naturalistic
fallacy. Stevenson contends that any adequate definition
of "good" must invest goodness with a kind of magnetism:
"A person who recognizes x to be 'good' must ipso facto
acquire a stronger tendency to act in its favor than he
otherwise would have had." "The Emotive Meaning of Ethical
Terms," Mind, XLVI (January, 1937)> 16. Stevenson's
argument is this, that if good" is defined naturalisti-
cally--or better, in terms of nonvalue words--one may
recognize something to be good without being motivated
; to respond to it favorably. Thus, a naturalistic defini-
! tion of "good" eliminates its primary Job, viz. that of
influencing attitudes. Both Hare and Stevenson believe,
then, that there is an important difference in function
; between value and nonvalue language.
1
L
299
same as the criteria for its application.What is
wrong with such definitions is that they are inconsistent
| with the word's commendatory function. The naturalist
j
| cannot commend what meets the criteria by saying that it
i
; is good.
j
! Now our attack on naturalistic definitions of 'good'
j was based on the fact that if it were true that 'a
i good A' meant the same as 'an A which is C', then it
| would be Impossible to use the sentence 'An A which is
i C is good' in order to commend A's which are C; for
this sentence would be analytic and equivalent to
1 'An A which is C is C',114
Thus, any naturalistic definition of "good” rules out
using the word the way we constantly use it; and when the
naturalist himself uses the word to commend, which of
course he does, he uses it in a way which his definition
disallows. With respect to any naturalistic definition
I we have only to inquire
^Hare is persuaded that the meaning of "good" is
not the same as the criteria for its application. When
we speak of good cars, good chairs, good watches, etc.,
the word "good" in each case carries a common meaning, that
of commendation. But the criteria for the application of
the word is in each case different. Consequently, to know
the criteria is not to know the meaning, and vice versa.
One may know the criteria for distinguishing good from bad
cars and still not know that the purpose of the classifica
tion is to commend some cars and condemn others. Con
versely, one may know the meaning of "good" but be ignorant
of the criteria for its application to objects of a given
class. One may recognize, for example, that when someone
says a car is good he is commending it, but at the same
time be unaware of the characteristics a car must have to
be commended. See The Language of Morals, pp. 96, 97*
103, 117.
ll4Ibid., pp. 90-91.
i whether its advocate ever wishes to commend anything
j for being C. If he says that he does, we have only to
! point out to him that his definition makes this impos
sible, for the reasons given. And clearly he cannot j
! say that he never wishes to commend anything for being j
I C; for to commend things for being C is the whole j
; object of his t h e o r y . |
I
i 71* Now certainly any adequate meta-ethical theory
I
; must provide for the commending function of moral language,1
i
| for we meaningfully and successfully use moral language
! for that purpose. What is important for us to see is
whether Blanshard's brand of naturalism provides for this
particular function. We shall put the issue this way:
Does Blanshard's definition of "good" prevent us from
using the word to commend?
: 72. Suppose Blanshard were to say, "Aesthetic
appreciation is a good experience," meaning by "good"
! fulfilling and satisfying. Now the crucial question is
i „
; this: Could he proceed to use the sentence An experience
! which is fulfilling and satisfying is good" in order to
commend aesthetic experiences which fulfil and satisfy?
Only, I believe, if "fulfilling" and "satisfying" are not
purely descriptive terms. For to say, "An experience
which is fulfilling and satisfying is good" is to say no
i
! more than "An experience which is fulfilling and satisfy-
1
j ing is fulfilling and satisfying." In other words, if
| fulfilling and satisfying are the meaning of "good," two
j -----------------------
i 11^Ibid., p. 93.
I 301 j
i consequences follow: (l) "fulfilling" and "satisfying"
1 i
must, In order to carry commendatory force, contain an |
| evaluative element. And I believe this admission is con- j
: sistent with Blanshard's position. He has said that to |
i i
recognize something to be fulfilling and satisfying does J
i I
| arouse a tendency to act in its favor. We are disposed
I by nature to desire and pursue as worthwhile what we j
l
i believe to be fulfilling and satisfying; and the stronger
the belief, the stronger the tendency. (2) The second
consequence is that it should be redundant to say of an
experience that fulfils and satisfies that it is good.
If a person knows that an experience fulfils and satisfies
he already knows it is good, and to further commend it to
him by saying it is good is superfluous. This also is
j consistent with Blanshard's position. Since we desire
i
what is fulfilling and satisfying, to be informed that
something is fulfilling and satisfying is to be furnished
with the strongest possible incentive or reason for seek
ing it; to be told that it is also good will not elicit a
more favorable response. So either statement ("x is good"
: or "x is fulfilling and satisfying") will do the same Job
! of influencing our attitude and will.
I
! 73* Hare might be willing to concede, however,
I that on Blanshard's definition "good" does carry commenda-
: tory force. What he would dispute is whether Blanshard's
definition is really naturalistic:
: 302 ;
i :
I Nearly all so-called 'naturalistic definitions' will
i break down under this test, for to be genuinely j
naturalistic a definition must contain no expression j
for whose applicability there is not a definite ,
! criterion which does not involve the making of a j
! value-judgment. 1(3
i If this is the test which any definition must pass to be
' j
naturalistic, Blanshard's definition is clearly not j
| naturalistic. For Blanshard, all experience is purposive :
i i
i
| or end-seeking; so whether an experience is properly
called fulfilling and satisfying will depend on the extent
to which it is a realization of these ends, be they cogni
tive, moral, aesthetic, etc. Since the realization of.
values built into experience in the form of ends is what
goodness means, fulfilment and satisfaction are not purely
descriptive. To apply these terms to an experience one
must appeal to a criterion which clearly involves a value
i
i Judgment. That criterion is whether the experience in
question is a realization of a value or end set by our
nature. So Blanshard's definition is not naturalistic
by Hare's test.11?
74. But whether Blanshard's definition of "good1 *
meets Hare's test is not the point at issue here. What is
ll6Ibid., p. 92.
i
j 11?Since for Blanshard the notion of fulfilment is
| tied to "oughts" or "imperatives" within human nature, it
; would be better--or at least less misleading— were he not
i to call his definition of "good" naturalistic. Perhaps a
! term like "quasl-naturalistic" is what is needed.
at issue is whether Blanshard's definition is compatible j
I
I with the commending or action-guiding function of value ;
| judgments. We have seen that it is. Assuming that we are j
I
I
i automatically disposed to desire what we believe fulfils
j
! and satisfies, to learn that an activity or experience
does fulfil and satisfy is to desire it. To be told the !
experience is also good is redundant; it will not cause
I one to desire the experience more.
75. (f) The naturalistic fallacy may be said to
! consist in deriving a value Judgment from purely factual
premises, that is from premises whose concepts are purely
descriptive. Purely descriptive concepts are concepts
j whose criteria for application does not involve a covert
I
or overt value judgment. If only concepts of this sort
i
[ are in the premises, no concepts of a different sort can
I
l be in a conclusion drawn from the premises. That is to
! say, no concept the criteria for the application of which
involves reference to an ought or a value can be in a
conclusion when all the concepts in the premises from
' which it is drawn are such that the criteria for their
l application excludes reference to an ought or value. The
i
I thesis, then, is that no evaluative statement (i.e. no
j
j statement containing evaluative concepts) is logically
J
! entailed by purely descriptive statements. Between these
; two types of statement there is an unbridgeable gap. The
j illicit passage from the one to the other involves the
i fallacy in question.
i 76. Where does Blanshard stand on this interpre
tation of the fallacy? In two places, it would seem at
first glance. On the one hand, he agrees that one cannot
move from descriptive statements to statements of value:
I "No succession of is1 s will give a must or an ought.1 1
I Or again: "You cannot, as facts, rank genius above lunacy,
because each is as much a fact as the other. Higher and
lower, better and worse, value, worth, satisfactoriness--
these are facts of no description whatever.Mll9 On the
other hand, he thinks that value judgments are entailed
by factual judgments. For example, from the factual
statement "This is an intensely painful experience" the
| value statement "This experience is intrinsically bad"
' follows.120
77* Is this an inconsistency? I do not believe
so, though Blanshard's language is, to say the least, mis
leading. The reason Blanshard can move from facts about
experience to their value is that facts about experience
are not value-free. It is possible to derive a value
1 H &The Nature of Thought, I, 390.
! i;L9ibid., p. 463.
i
120Rea3on and Goodness, pp. 230, 270. Blanshard
J does not of course hold that a painful experience cannot
1 be instrumentally good.
! Judgment from factual premises because evaluative meaning
I !
■ has been imported into the concepts of the premises. We |
! start with premises that are not wholly factual, premises '
! whose concepts are not wholly descriptive in nature. Since)
I !
| an intensely painful experience is intrinsically bad, since,
i „ !
i intense pain is a species of badness, the concept intense I
I
! pain" is not a purely descriptive concept.1^1 The
criteria for the application of this concept to an
experience clearly involve a reference to a disvalue. So
it is not the case that Blanshard attempts to draw ethical
conclusions from premises containing only descriptive
concepts.
78. To the question, Is it possible to give an
accurate or a complete description of experience without
! introducing an evaluative element (i.e. without employing
concepts the criteria for the application of which involve
reference to values), Blanshard would say, No.^22 in
experience the descriptive and the evaluative are meshed;
facts about experience have a value component. Experience
is governed by ends or values and human nature dictates
: that their realization is good. Given the teleological
1 ■ --------- -
i 121Nor is the concept "happiness" purely descrip-
j tive. Happiness, according to Blanshard, is a species of
i goodness. To speak of happiness is to speak of a form of
I goodness. Prom the fact that someone is happy it there-
I fore follows that his happiness is intrinsically good
: or desirable.
1
i 122The Nature of Thought, II, 115.
| 306 !
j character of experience, the factual and the evaluative
I
: aspects of experience cannot be kept in watertight com- j
! partments.123 Insofar as values are ends within experience!
i
; that we are determined to realize, what ought to be deter-
i
1 mines in large measure what is. Remove from experience j
1 i
I !
i the values that are at work within it, and you no longer
! have experience as we know it. So integral to human !
; nature are ends and purposes, so charged is experience
with value, that any attempt to describe experience by
using only descriptive concepts may be prejudged a failure.
Describe experience without including in the description
what ought to be, and you will give only a distorted
, description of what experience is.
79. (12) Psychology is in part a normative
science. Blanshard has argued that all experience is
purposive, that it is Informed by ends, and that these
■ j oh
ends direct the processes leading to their realization.
123since the descriptive and the evaluative
aspects of experience cannot be separated, the so-called
impassable gulf between statements of fact and statements
of value rests on a dichotomy that is itself without
foundation. Once it is recognized that there are impera-
; tives within human nature, it becomes apparent that the
| statement "This activity or experience satisfies the
requirements of our nature" entails the statement "This
| activity or experience is good and ought to be sought."
j 122*What does it mean to say that values or ends
not yet actual within experience control the processes
; leading to their realization? We can illustrate Blan-
: shard’s meaning by considering the theoretic impulse, the
j impulse to know. This impulse is satisfied when under-
I standing is achieved. The kind of insight we have when
i Given the teleological character of experience, descrip-
i tions of experience must reflect its goal-seeking nature,
j Since facts about experience cannot escape reference to
' values, end3, or goals, any satisfactory explanation of
l
experience must take them into account. Psychology can-
! not, then, divorce itself from values;it cannot be
i 96
| pursued responsibly as a purely descriptive science. ^
we understand is insight into necessity. Understanding is
apprehending something in a system which renders it intel
ligible or necessary. Now if thought is to reach the goal
of understanding, it must be guided by ideal of system.
If thought follows the lines of association rather than
lines of necessity, it goes off the rails, and the end the
theoretic impulse is seeking is not achieved. Thinking,
then, is an activity with an end or an aim. So far as
that end assumes control of our thought and lays it under
constraint, to that extent the goal of thought, viz.
| understanding, is achieved. That the end of thought is
immanent within thought, that it functions as an implicit
: ideal at every level of reflection is persuasively argued
1 by Blanshard is chaps, xviii-xxlv of The Nature of Thought.
■^^Nor, it would seem, can any other science.
"The immediate aim of science is always truth. And truth,
we repeat, is a value. It Is what we ought to believe,
: Just as the good is what we ought to realize and the
beautiful what we ought to appreciate." Blanshard, The
Nature of Thought, II, 121. For to lay hold of fact is
to lay hold of truth, and truth is itself a value." Ibid.
^■2£>Cf. hjj0 empirical or descriptive laws can
, explain what happens when we think. For thought is a
teleological process in which a chief determining factor
! is . . .an end or value." Blanshard, The Nature of
Thought, I, 458. "Either psychology must admit theopera-
! tion of ends--logical, ethical, or aesthetic--or It must
j drop thinking from Its field." Ibid., p. 465. Also see
; pp. 463-64; The Nature of Thought, II, 115> 119-23; and
! Blanshard, Reason and Analysis! pp. 383-84.
If the psychologist is to describe well and accurately,
i he must also appraise. The psychologist who confines |
i
J himself to purely descriptive concepts and statements will !
I not give an illuminating account of experience; he will
I I
' succeed only in distorting it. ,
I 80. Because a satisfactory explanation of con- i
j scious experience has to incorporate value considerations,
|
i any mechanical account of the activities of mind is ruled
out: "Mind itself is irreducibly purposive and will elude
the grasp of mechanism always."127 "The idea that one is
'explaining1 any thought process by stating it in terms
of a bodily reaction, supposed itself to be mechanically
1 explicable, is a superstition."1^® All of which means
that the principles of psychology must incorporate teleo-
| logical causation. Since conscious processes are teleo-
I
I logical processes, no account or explanation of them is
adequate unless reference is made to the ends at which
they aim. What are these ends? Truth, goodness, and
beauty.
^^Blanshard, The Nature of Thought, I, 480. See
I also p. 510.
^®Ibid., p. 199. Blanshard is adamant about
I this. He thinks a mechanistic or associationistic
; psychology is unable to explain the phenomena of (l) per-
i ception, ibid., pp. 79* 120; (2) choice, ibid., p. 483;
i (3) learning, ibid., p. 163; (4) deductive inference,
i ibid., p. 459* (5) inductive inference, ibid., pp. 484-85;
! (6) observation, The Nature of Thought, II, 93; (7) inven-
| tion, ibid., p. 109.
j Does this mean that psychology, to be adequate to mind,
! must introduce into its account the necessities of
logic, morals and aesthetics, must say that human
behavior is, in part, what it is because truth, good-
j ness and beauty are what they are?12°
I Blanshard thinks so. This does not mean, however, that
i
I antecedent conditions can be, or should be, ignored in
| explaining psychological phenomena; it is that they need
I
! to be s u p p l e m e n t e d .^30 T^e cause of any occurrence or
i
i
1 event is the sum of its conditions, and in such activities
as Inductive and deductive inference, desiring, choosing,
and creating one of the conditions is always the end or
immanent ideal which guides the movement toward it.
8l. There is, then, within psychological processes
: the pull towards ends or values, towards goodness, truth,
and beauty. This means that psychology cannot be a purely
j factual science, that it must embody a normative
' element.^31 jt must take into account the teleological
j 129]3ianshard, The Nature of Thought, II, 127.
^30speaking of psychological laws Blanshard has
this to say: "If psychology is to be adequate to thinking
there will be as many laws of the process as there are
levels of realization of that system which forms its
implicit end. The actual course of thought is a resultant
of two influences, on one side the psychological or
| mechanical, which would drive it along the trail of
association, and on the other the logical, whose attrac-
i tion, if sufficiently powerful, keeps it in the groove of
j necessity. And a particular process of thinking can be
j understood only as one appreciates how, in this particular
I case, the two forces interplay." Ibid.
131Ibid., p. 123.
| dimension of experience. It must recognize the operation
within experience of ends or oughts— logical, aesthetic,
j and moral--for it is these ends which largely determine
i
i what is. If the conceptual scheme of psychology is too
(
| narrow, if it excludes the teleological dimension, a
! dimension which has unquestioned bearing on the direction
i conscious processes take, then it is plainly inadequate
i
1 to its own subject matter and in need of revision. An
adequate psychology
is not merely describing processes, it is evaluating
them. It is saying that some processes are more truly
thinking than others because in them the aim of thought
is more fully realized, which means that they are cases
of better or more perfect understanding. It pays more
attention to the kind of thinking done by scientist or
philosopher than to the kind done by imbecile or insane
| man because it believes that measured by this standard
the former is more truly thinking than the latter. It
appraises before it describes, in order that Its
description may not be wasted. Now such appraisal is
i necessary, we agree, if the study of thought is to be
enlightening. But the point is2that it is beyond the
power of any science of fact.
If psychology is to succeed in explaining thought
processes, it must make value judgments at the outset.
These judgments will not merely be about the operation of
; values in experience, but they will express genuine evalu-
| atlons. As much as he might wish to, the psychologist
i cannot hope to avoid making Judgments of the latter
! sort.133
■^%51anshard, The Nature of Thought, I, 463.
133]31anshard, The Nature of Thought, II, 126-27.
i 82. (13) Ethics as a Branch of Psychology. We
have seen that experience Is funded with value and that
| any psychology which tries to get along without such
j (partially) evaluative concepts as fulfilment and satis-
1 faction will only succeed in distorting experience while
! impoverishing itself. This raises the interesting ques-
I tion whether Blanshard, by defining value concepts in
i
terms of fulfilment and satisfaction, reduces ethics to
a branch of psychology, thereby destroying the autonomy
of ethics.^34 put this way the question is not an easy
one to answer. On the one hand, he says explicitly that
an ethical theory which construes ethical statements as
descriptions of psychological fact is unacceptable .-*-35
This, Blanshard thinks, is a weakness in all naturalistic
! theories that reduce moral judgments to factual assertions
about what is desired, approved, found pleasant, etc. In
such descriptive statements the distinctively ethical
element is left out. On the other hand, he believes that
all statements about what is intrinsically good can be
translated into statements about experiences that fulfil
and satisfy. Value statements are reducible to
! ^^That naturalistic definitions destroy the
J autonomy of ethics can be considered a standing objection
; to all naturalistic theories. See C. D. Broad's article
1 "Some of the Main Problems of Ethics," Philosophy, XXI
i (July, 1946), 103.
i 1 ^ 6
• “ ^Reason and Goodness, p. 110.
r~ .....” " "■ ~ 312]
!
j psychological statements about ends. The statement "x is
I
I
; good” means "x is, or under ideal conditions would be
j found, fulfilling and satisfying.” And since judgments
! of right and duty follow from this, ”x is right” means
| "x is productive of more goodness (fulfilment and satis-
| faction) than any other act open to the agent." !
j 83. Thus it would seem that moral Judgments are !
1 factual in character, that they reduce without remainder
; to factual statements about ends and the best ways to
achieve them. Is this an inconsistency? Is Blanshard
trying to have it both ways? I do not believe so. As we
have already learned, fulfilment and satisfaction are not
I purely descriptive concepts; consequently, psychological
statements which incorporate these concepts are not wholly
I descriptive either. There is no reason, then, why value
i
! Judgments should not be translatable into psychological
statements of this sort, for these will contain a
I
normative element.
84. If one assumes, however, that psychological
concepts and statements are entirely descriptive, then
: value judgments are neither derivable from statements of
; psychological fact nor reducible to them. So whether
i
1
j Blanshard considers ethics to be an autonomous discipline
j or an adjunct of psychology depends, I believe, on the
; sort of psychology one happens to be talking about. In
| his own writings the context usually makes this clear;
| but if the context is ignored, it will apear that he is
i defending at different times both positions.
85. (1*0 Criticism and Appraisal. In assessment i
! of Blanshard's theory of goodness I shall take issue with j
three of his arguments. They are (a) That men by nature i
I desire only what they believe to be good, and that the '
I
! intensity of their desire is proportional to that assumed j
i / x I
; goodness; (b) That all fulfilling and satisfying experi-
1
| ences are intrinsically good; (c) That right, duty, and
: the morally good can be analyzed in terms of fulfilment
and satisfaction.
86. (a) We begin with Blanshard's theory of
j desire. To get our analysis under way, let us list three
tenets to which Blanshard subscribes: (l) That all men
j desire what they believe to be fulfilling and satisfying;
I
' (2) That a reasonable person believes other people's
! experiences are as intrinsically good as his own, provided
; they are equally fulfilling and satisfying; (3) That all
men desire whatever they believe is good in proportion to
its recognized goodness.
, 87. The first and third propositions seem to me
; false, the second true. I know of no way to prove this,
i
I
J however, and can only ask the reader to consult his own
I experience to see if he must not agree with me. From my
: own experience I can recall instances where I very much
wanted what I knew would not bring lasting satisfaction.
j 314
I
I I fully realized that if I acted to satisfy the want I
I
would very much regret it, and that I would regret it
| almost immediately. On those occasions when I proceeded
i
I to act against my better judgment, the results were
: exactly as I expected. That one can desire and proceed
! to choose something knowing full well that it will not
i
i bring fulfilment and satisfaction but only remorse and
i
i disgust is not easily reconciled with proposition (l).
Now if proposition (l) is false, then proposition (3) must
be also. For if it is true that we do not always desire
what we think is good but sometimes desire what we think
is bad, then we do not always desire things in proportion
to the goodness we believe they possess.
88. The truth of propositions (l) and (3), we
have said, does not seem to be even probable; and they
j
become more dubious still when combined with proposition
| (2), a proposition which I believe to be true. If all men
desire what they believe to be good, and if the intensity
of their desire is directly proportional to the goodness
they recognize (or think they recognize) in the object of
their desire, and if a reasonable man believes one man's
good is as desirable as another man's good that is exactly
i similar, then it follows that any reasonable man must
1
I
j desire another man's, say, happiness as much as his own.
; Now I consider myself a reasonable man, but I certainly
do not desire, at least in any ordinary sense of that
i word, other people's happiness (members of my Immediate
! family excepted perhaps) as much as my own, even though I
; really think their happiness is Just as good as mine. Yet
i
| on Blanshard's view I must.1^ Provided I truly believe
1 a stranger's happiness is as intrinsically good as my own,
[ I must desire it Just as much. If I do not, I cannot
! really think his happiness is as good as mine. This seems
I to me plainly false.
89. How Blanshard would reply to this I do not
know. He might say either of two things, neither of which,
in my opinion, is in the least convincing, (l) He could
deny that I really do believe the happiness of others is
as good as my own and by implication that I am a reasonable
person. (2) He could say that I do not know what my real
| desires are, that perhaps I have not tried hard enough or
i
: sincerely enough to find out. My reply to this is that,
though he may be right, it is surely doubtful that he is
in a better position to know my beliefs and desires and to
assess my efforts and sincerity than I am myself. In any
case, if I have so utterly failed to catch the true nature
^•3£>Let reader perform an ideal experiment by
imagining himself in combat and having the opportunity to
| save ten of his sleeping buddies by throwing himself on a
| grenade that has been tossed into his tent. Assuming he
; truly believes the life and happiness of each of these
: men is as valuable as his own, would the reader say his
desire to fall on the grenade is nine times greater than
! his desire to save himself?
~...~ ' " ' 316 I
of my beliefs and my desires to this date, I can only
I think it unlikely I ever shall.
| We conclude that Blanshard's theory of desire is
| I
; not satisfactory. Propositions (l) and (3) are not ;
| j
empirical or inductive generalizations based on intro- i
spective evidence. They look more like metaphysical •
I
i claims, and his adherence to them a matter of a priori j
i i
i
commitment.
90. (b) Blanshard's analysis of the relation
between fulfilling and satisfying experiences and their
goodness is also unfortunate. If goodness belongs to
happiness (or any other fulfilling and satisfying experi
ence) as a genus belongs to its species, then every
instance of happiness is necessarily good to some degree.
Should there exist a person who can take genuine delight
i
in hearing of widespread famine or of the assassination of
his president, his happiness must be good. His happiness
would cease being intrinsically good only if it ceased
being happiness, just as red would cease being a color
only if it ceased being red, or just as a mare would cease
. being a horse only by ceasing to be a mare.
91. Blanshard could reply to this in either of
j three ways, (l) He could say that any person who rejoices
! in the starvation of men, women, and children or in the
: violent and untimely death of a popular leader isn't
really happy no matter what he says or thinks or does.
r ~ 3171
i 1
j But there appears to be no evidence to support such a ;
! |
claim. Fortunately, only a very few people do greet such j
I happenings with cheer; but there will probably always be j
; some who will; and our theory must enable us, without
i
contradicting ourselves, to say of such persons that, i
j ;
! though they find happiness in such events, their happiness 1
1 is not intrinsically good.1^? (2) If Blanshard did con-
1 cede such a person was happy, he would no doubt say his
happiness is good only to a low degree. For Blanshard,
goodness is never an all-or-nothing affair; he recognizes
many levels or degrees of goodness. Nor would Blanshard
have to encourage that sort of happiness, since it is
likely that pursuit of it will have undesirable conse
quences . But if the happiness in question did not block
; other goods, if it did not stand as an impediment to other
■ greater fulfilments and satisfactions, then happiness in
others' misery would be intrinsically good and it would be
right to have it and seek it. It seems apparent from this
that if Blanshard wants to say every kind of fulfilment
and satisfaction is intrinsically good, he might find the
, distinction between moral and nonmoral goods helpful. He
could then say happiness in another person's misery is not
j
■*-37it will not do to say that happiness of this
! sort is intrinsically good and only instrumentally bad.
: For the happiness in question may in particular cases have
I no bad consequences, and we would not on that account wish
| to call the happiness an unqualified good.
j a moral but a nonmoral good. But Blanshard does not
; separate moral from nonmoral goods. Nor is the reason he
j does not draw the distinction difficult to surmise. If a '
! disposition, feeling, or action may result in the greatest )
I |
| balance of fulfilment and satisfaction and yet be morally
| bad or wrong, fulfilment and satisfaction cannot be taken 1
! I
j to supply the full meaning of goodness. Moral goodness
| will have to depend on other considerations. And if moral
; goodness eludes analysis in terms of the concepts "fulfil
ment" and "satisfaction," a purely teleological account of
the "moral ought" is placed in jeopardy. Productivity of
fulfilment and satisfaction will no longer be the sole
test of rightness and obligatoriness. (3) Blanshard could
i
I
deny that all fulfilling and satisfying experiences are
! intrinsically good. Though all fulfilling and satisfying
j
j experiences might be desired or found worthwhile as ends,
i
not all fulfilling and satisfying experiences ought to be
! desired for their own sake. Should a person exist who is
able to find fulfilment and satisfaction in the suffering
of innocent people, his satisfaction would not be intrinsi-
I cally good, even though he may desire it for the sake of
: nothing else. Were some fulfilments and satisfactions
i
i
j banned from the realm of the intrinsically good, only
j
I those remaining types of fulfilment and satisfaction would
j have to be taken into account in appraising the rightness
j of acts. Or perhaps a more accurate way to put it would
j be to say that while all fulfilments and satisfactions
! have to be taken into account, only those which have posi-
| tive intrinsic value will be accounted as right-making j
! considerations. Should an act produce fulfilment and
i
I satisfaction that is intrinsically bad, that will tend to
[ make the act wrong. It follows on this view that an act i
| may be right even though, on balance, it yields less ful-
! filment and satisfaction than some alternative act. Right
acts will still be those which bring into existence the
most intrinsic good, though what is intrinsically good is
now less broadly conceived.
92. This latter approach is not one Blanshard
1 takes, however; nor is it difficult to see why. Firstly,
were Blanshard to acknowledge that some fulfilling and
| satisfying experiences may not be intrinsically good, he
would have to concede that fulfilment and satisfaction
i are not the sole criteria of goodness or intrinsic value.
The test for the presence of goodness in an experience
would no longer be simply the presence of fulfilment and
satisfaction in it. To determine whether and to what
extent an experience is intrinsically good, other consider-
' ations would have to be invoked, since it is now possible
l
j for the intrinsic value of an experience to be inversely
| proportional to its fulfilling and satisfying aspects.
' Now if goodness cannot be measured in terms of fulfilment
and satisfaction alone, it cannot be defined in terns of
320
| fulfilment and satisfaction either. Fulfilment and satis-
i
i
faction cannot be the meaning of good If fulfilment and
! satisfaction may belong to an experience that Is not good.
| If fulfilment and satisfaction were the meaning of good,
to suggest that any fulfilling and satisfying experience
! may not be good would be self-contradictory. It would be
I tantamount to saying that even though something is x and y
i
it is possibly not x and y. To concede, then, that some
fulfilling and satisfying experiences may not be intrinsi
cally good has rather grave consequences. Were Blanshard
to go this route he would have to give up defining "good”
in terms of fulfilment and satisfaction. He would have
to move to another definition of good and to another
theory of value. Secondly, to take this step would be to
concede that right and duty cannot be analyzed in terms
of, or made exclusively dependent upon, fulfilment and
satisfaction. So long as an act can through its conse
quences maximize the quantity of fulfilment and satisfac
tion in the world and yet be wrong, the rightness of an
act cannot be wholly a function of the fulfilment and
I satisfaction it originates. Rightness will now depend,
at least in part, on other considerations. Does this
i
i
| mean a purely teleological account of right and duty must
! go by the boards? Not necessarily. One could still main-
: tain that the rightness of an act is wholly a function of
i
i its intrinsically good results. But having admitted that
I __________________________________________________________________ _
only some fulfilling and satisfying experiences are lntrin-
; slcally good, a purely teleological account of right and j
!
duty would not be easy to defend. The reason it would not I
be easy to defend is that what is intrinsically good seems
| now to depend on "ought considerations." Certain kinds of i
! fulfilment and satisfaction are excluded from the class of
the intrinsically good, not on the grounds that they are j
j
! not desired for their own sake, but on the grounds that
they ought not to be desired for their own sake. If some
fulfilling and satisfying experiences are judged not to be
j intrinsically good, it is because they ought not to exist.
Once it is granted that whether consequences or experiences
| are intrinsically good depends on whether they ought to
exist, "what ought to be" has become the primary considera-
j tion, and "ought" has usurped the place of "good" as the
; fundamental ethical concept. If the goodness of conse
quences Is appraised by appealing to an ought, ought Is
the basic term after all, and we are back in the camp of
the deontologists.
It would seem, then, that "ought" is the funda-
i mental concept. If something cannot be pronounced
intrinsically good unless it Is seen that it ought to be
i
furthered or chosen for Its own sake, there is no reason
; for retaining "good" as the basic notion. In order to
• Justify keeping "good" as the fundamental concept, one
would have to argue, I think, that while it is Impossible
I" " ” 322
i
| to form a clear conception of ought without Including In
: It the notion of good, It Is possible to form a clear
concept of good without Including In it the concept of
ought. But this is Just what we are unable to do so long
I
: as good is taken to mean fulfilment and satisfaction. i
i n n
J That ought is the basic term is not, of course,
I ,
| Blanshard's view. He thinks "good" is the fundamental
i
j ethical concept and that "ought” must be analyzed in
terms of it. Since good is taken to mean fulfilment and
satisfaction, it follows on Blanshard's view that every
mode of fulfilment and satisfaction, considered without
reference to its consequences, ought to exist. Since
"good" means "what satisfies the tendencies of our
nature," every mode of self-realization is Intrinsically
| desirable. This can only mean that if a person should
!
find fulfilment and satisfaction in other people's misery,
his fulfilment and satisfaction must be accounted intrinsi
cally good, that his fulfilment and satisfaction ought for
its own sake to exist. We have argued that this kind of
: fulfilment and satisfaction ought not for its own sake to
: exist, that what is intrinsically desirable is not Just
every kind of fulfilment and satisfaction, no matter whose
i
j it is or what its source. Surely a malicious man's fulfil-
I
1 ment and satisfaction is not good in itself; that sort of
: fulfilment and satisfaction is plainly unfitting and lnap-
j proprlate. At any moment the world would be a more
; “........ "......'... . ’ ” 323
intrinsically desirable place, or a less intrinsically
undesirable place, without it.
j 93. (c) Blanshard tries to combine a naturalistic
i
| theory of value with a purely teleological account of
j
1 right and duty. What ought to exist, and what we have a
| |
| duty to try to bring into existence is, he says, the
J
j maximum amount of fulfilment and satisfaction. The maxi-
I mum amount of fulfilment and satisfaction attainable is
i
the moral end to be aimed at in all of our actions. Those
actions whereby the agent tries to realize this end are
morally good or subjectively right.^-3® This account of
right, duty, and the morally good will not, I believe,
stand up. That it will not stand up will be argued in
[
Chapter VII, but a brief remark may be in order here. I
| suggest that what ought to be produced, that at which we
i
1 ought to aim, is not Just the greatest amount of fulfilment
and satisfaction, no matter who enjoys it and regardless of
i
the way in which it is distributed. The total amount of
fulfilment and satisfaction an act will (or can be
expected to) produce is only one consideration in
*38As we shall see in chap. vii, morally good or
subjectively right actions need not, according to Blan-
j shard, actually produce fulfilment and satisfaction. What
j is crucial in determining the moral worth of an action is,
j Blanshard thinks, the Intent behind it. If the intent
| is to produce good, the action may be accounted morally
i good or subjectively right even if the actual results of
' the action are undesirable.
r ........ ' ~ - 32“
i
{ determining its rightness and whether our duty is to
I i
perform it. A world in which the selfish and greedy were
! afforded lives more fulfilling and satisfying than the
t I
i charitable might well be a world with more overall fulfil- j
1 i
ment and satisfaction in it, but it would not be a more j
! intrinsically desirable world, nor would it be our obliga- !
| tion, were we able, to bring it about. We shall try an
example to make our point.
94. Suppose it were within our power to create
one of two universes. In the one we could place a man
who would experience small fulfilment but great satisfac
tion. This man, let us assume, will live forever in Just
this state. In the other universe we could place over a
period of time five billion individuals, each of whose
lives would last approximately sixty years. Each man in
I
this universe will experience just as much day to day
satisfaction (or pleasure) as the man in the first
universe and more day to day fulfilment. In which
universe would the most fulfilment and satisfaction be
obtained? We would have to say in the former, would we
not, for in this universe the man will live forever, while
in the other universe all fulfilment and satisfaction will
| cease after a finite period of time. By creating the
1
second world we would be producing only a finite amount of
| fulfilment and satisfaction; by creating the first we
I would be bringing into existence an infinite amount. If
325 |
!
j the right act or choice is the one that will produce or is
likely to produce the greatest fulfilment and satisfaction,j
would it not, on Blanshard's analysis, be our duty to !
create the first world rather than the second? Most
' thoughtful people, I believe, would consider it right to
j j
i create the second world. Here, they would say, is one
instance where a state of affairs with less fulfilment
I
; and satisfaction ought to be preferred to a state of
affairs with more. In this they are surely correct, which
means a teleological account of right, duty and ought can
not be combined with a definition of good in terms of ful
filment and satisfaction. The specifically moral concepts
cannot be analyzed in Blanshard's terms.
95* In this chapter we have been discussing
' Blanshard's theory of goodness and the moral ought. We
I
have seen his theory of goodness rests on a teleological
conception of human nature according to which ends are
built into experience. The realization of these ends and
the satisfaction which it brings is the meaning of good
ness. The moral "ought" follows directly from this: it
I is the claim upon us by our nature to realize those ends
i set by our nature. Our duty is to do that which will
bring into existence for ourselves and for others the
largest amount of fulfilment and satisfaction. This means
i
I that ethical concepts and Judgments are reducible to
psychological concepts and judgments, that statements of
j 326
i
| value are derivable from statements about what Is the case.
i
Prom statements about human nature we can pass to Judg-
| ments of good and duty because given our nature some things
i
| are desirable and ought to be pursued, other things not.
!
Moral knowledge Is factual and objective; moral Judgments
i !
! are therefore either true or false, and are in no case 1
|
J merely expressions or reports of private preference or
i
attitude. Hence moral disputes can be settled by
i
rational argument.
There is much in Blanshard's naturalism that is
attractive. His definition of "good” in terms of fulfil
ment and satisfaction is able, we believe, to avoid most
: forms of the naturalistic fallacy. In this it is more
successful, and hence more defensible, than other natural-
; istic definitions with which we are acquainted. But there
i .__
are problems in the verification of value judgments, and
in the resolution of value disputes, which we think Blan-
shard has not faced. These problems arise from the
imprecision which attaches to the notion of fulfilment
and from his analysis of value in terms of what is ideally
i desired or the object of rational pursuit. We also have
reservations with respect to his theory of desire; we
i
| think it is not true that men are unable to desire and
i
to choose what they believe is an inferior good. This is
| one instance where, it seems to us, Blanshard's analysis
I 327
I
!
| does not fit the facts as we know them, but is based |
1 !
1 instead on his theory of human nature. |
I Our strongest criticism is reserved for his !
1 j
I analysis of ought.” This concept cannot be analyzed or
| defined in terms of, or in any way made exclusively depen- !
| dent upon, fulfilment and satisfaction. That an experience1
i
j fulfils and satisfies is not sufficient to make it
intrinsically good, if by the intrinsically good is
meant "what ought to be desired for its own sake.” Some
kinds of fulfilment and satisfaction, we argued, ought not
to exist for their own sake. If this assessment is
correct, fulfilment and satisfaction cannot be taken as
; the measure and meaning of goodness, and a teleological
account of right and duty in terms of productivity of
! fulfilment and satisfaction will have to be given up.
328
, CHAPTER VII
BLANSHARD'S UTILITARIANISM:
! ACTS, RULES, AND CONSEQUENCES
1. We have found that Blanshard's moral philo-
: sophy grows out of a theory of mind, that his theory of
goodness Is informed by a teleological conception of human
nature, that he defends a kind of "desire theory" where
"good" Is defined In terms of what Is Ideally or rationally
desired or, what comes to the same thing, in terms of
satisfaction and fulfilment of human potential. As we
; have also seen, he combines his naturalism with a teleo
logical theory of obligation according to which right and
duty are based on good. He believes the two character
istics which belong to all intrinsically good things are
that they fulfil and satisfy, and that the one character
istic which belongs to all right acts is that they actually
produce or tend to produce at least as much net fulfilment
, and satisfaction as any other act that could be performed.1
| • LCf. "A right act, then, is one that tends to
i bring into being at least as much in the way of fulfilling
1 and satisfying experience as would any available alterna
tive." Blanshard, Reason and Goodness, p. 322. "There is
329
This, of course, brings Blanshard into collision with
Ross's view that there is no single reason, no single
| characteristic, in virtue of which all right acts are
I
right. In this chapter we shall give our reasons for
i
! believing that the rightness of an act does not depend
I
i only and always on its productiveness of fulfilment and
| satisfaction; and as we shall see, Blanshard himself seems
not to hold consistently to this view. We shall find that
the type of utilitarianism he defends is different in
important respects from those we have already examined
and rejected. To put It another way, Just as Blanshard's
naturalism has an edge over other forms of naturalism
which have been advanced, so also his utilitarianism is
more defensible than other utilitarian theories we have
, considered. It will be useful to see whether his utilitar
ianism, if it cannot be combined with his theory of value,
can stand by itself. If it can, perhaps it may be brought
into alliance with some other criteria of intrinsic good
ness; if it cannot, we shall have to give serious consider
ation to the deontological theory of obligation, whatever
i view we adopt on the nature and meaning of goodness. We
return, then, in Part I of this chapter to the controversy
j
I no means for determining the right apart from the good.
. . . In the light of what we have seen about good, this
; means in turn that an action is right if, and only if, it
; tends to bring Into being as much experience that is at
| once satisfying and fulfilling as any alternative action."
i Ibid., p. 321.
330
between the utilitarians and deontologists in order to
establish exactly where Blanshard stands. Having got his
j position before us, we shall subject it to a critical
examination in Part II.
I
1
2. The deontologists say, to return to an earlier ,
i
I example, that any Judge who knowingly hangs a man on a
j trumped-up charge does what is, or what at least tends
to be, wrong. They insist, moreover, that the prima facie
wrongness of such an act has nothing to do with the bad
ness of its consequences; it depends instead on the kind
of act it is. Even if it could be conclusively shown that,
j all consequences considered, hanging an innocent man would
produce a surplus of good over evil, it would still be
i
| prima facie wrong to hang him.2 Now this view comports
: with the plain man's reaction. If the plain man could
| be shown to his full satisfaction that hanging an innocent
man would produce the largest net good achievable, he
would still be reluctant to give his assent. If he really
believes what is right is what conduces to the greatest
2The deontologist may say, however, that in this
! case the Judge ought to have him hanged, for among our
j prima facie duties is the duty to produce good. The point
; the deontologist would insist on is this, that when prima
! facie duties conflict, we are not to decide which to
j fulfil on the basis of good-producing consequences. In
; such cases intuition must guide our decision as to what
! is our actual duty.
331 i
i
good attainable, his hesitation is unfounded; on deonto-
I logical principles, however, hesitation is Just what we j
| should expect. |
i
; 3. Blanshard believes the plain man is correct in
j
! his belief that a Judge would do wrong to have hanged for
I o !
j public good a man he knows to be innocent.- > But unlike
I
i the deontologist, Blanshard thinks the wrongness of such
an act is exclusively a function of its badness. This
; raises the question of where Blanshard thinks the badness
lies. Some might want to locate it in the Judge's motive,
but Blanshard is convinced this is a mistake. We cannot
attribute the wrongness of having an innocent man hanged
to the badness of the Judge's motive because what makes a
motive morally good is the desire or intention to do what
j is right. And this, we may assume, is precisely the
I
' Judge's intention:
For what counts in a motive morally is the desire to
do what is right, and it i3 conceivable that the Judge,
even in convicting an innocent man, did so out of a
sincere regard for duty. . . . Hence we cannot charge
the wrongness of an action upon the badness of its
motive.
j 3'«The Impasse in Ethics and a Way Out," p. 96.
^Ibld., p. 97. Blanshard believes one cannot
i separate the moral value of an action from the motive which
jprompts it. Two actions may have identical consequences
I but if one springs from love or a sense of duty and the
I other from malice, the former is morally better. (Reason
: and Goodness, p. 41.) Convinced that the intent behind the
act is part of the nature of the act, Blanshard goes so far
■ as to say that the well-intentioned mother who inadvert-
I ently gives her sick child poison has done nothing
332
4. If the badness doesn't lie in the motive, can
i
we trace it to the consequences--if not to the immediate j
ones, then to those which are more remote? In many !
I
instances, Yes. For a Judge to convict an innocent man
would involve at once the breaking of multiple engage
ments, the telling to the public an untruth, and the |
doing of grave injustice. Now the keeping of engage- 1
ments, the telling of truth, and the doing of Justice
! are essential parts of the community's life. To vio
late them officially is to do far more than to injure
a particular person; it is to challenge and disrupt
this plan of life as a whole.5
wrong. "We appraise actions as right and wrong, not in
virtue of their actual consequences, but in virtue of
the consequences which we conceive that actions done in
these circumstances and with this intention would normally
produce." Ibid., pp. 321-22. But it is hardly satisfac
tory to say that the well-meaning mother who gives her
child poison by mistake has done nothing wrong. Would
it not be better to say that her motive was morally good
or praiseworthy but her act nonetheless wrong? Blanshard
seems to think 3o. In another context he gives his
approval to the distinction between what is objectively
i right as opposed to what is subjectively right. "On the
actual consequences of our acts depends their objective
rightness. On the Intended consequences depends their
subjective rightness." "Morality and Politics," in Ethics
and Society, ed. by Richard T. De George, Anchor Books
(Garden City, N. Y.: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1966),
pp. 10-11. In Reason and Goodness, p. 136, Blanshard
says one cannot separate the subjective rightness of an
act from its motive but that the motive has nothing to do
with the objective rightness of an act. Now if he is
going to make this distinction, he ought to hold to it
consistently. Moreover, he needs to make clear the extent
to which the subjective rightness of an act depends on its
probable consequences. To say, as he does, that the sub-
: Jective rightness of an act depends on the probable conse-
I quences and the intended consequences only confuses mat-
i ters, for the probable (or usual) consequences and the
intended consequences may be two quite different things.
| ^Blanshard, "The Impasse in Ethics and a Way Out,"
; p. 98. Cf. "Truthfulness and promise-keeping do not stand
j alone. They are Implicated in a wider order from which
These consequences are very bad indeed, and it would be
hazardous for any Judge to ignore them in his Judicial
decisions.
5. Suppose, however, that only the Judge knows
the man is innocent, and that everyone else thinks he is
not. The accused, we shall assume, was so drunk on the
night of the crime that he does not remember where he was
or what he did; confronted by all the evidence, he believes
himself guilty. We may even lay it down as one of our
conditions that no one will ever find out what the Judge
secretly knows. What possible disruptive consequences,
immediate or remote, could be pointed to now? To this
Blanshard replies:
Disruption may be a matter of logic as well as of
consequences. To forsake engagements, truth and Jus
tice whenever a prospect of particular advantage comes
in view would be to weaken the claims of these things
throughout the whole range of our conduct; it would
tear a huge hole in the^-network of relations that
makes society possible.
It is this that makes us unwilling to say it is right for
a Judge to willfully and deliberately convict a man he
alone knows is innocent of the crime for which he stands
accused. It need not be any bad consequences to which we
can point.
they draw part of whatever goodness they possess.”
Blanshard, Reason and Goodness, p. 160.
^"The Impasse in Ethics and a Way Out,” p. 98.
! Thus it is clear to Blanshard that the goodness i
I
i which makes right acts right cannot be lodged in conse
quences alone:
If the good on which rightness is said to depend is j
confined to consequences caused by the act and follow- j
ing it in time, then the dependence of right on good |
| is not made out. The reason is that in some cases j
| what seems to promise such consequences, for example 1
the punishing of an innocent man for public good, is ,
j plainly wrong.' j
i I
Blanshard complains that in cases such as these the teleo-
logist labors under a handicap. While maintaining that
the rightness of an act is a function of its goodness,
"He cannot point to any particular person, time, or place
as the residence of the good he has in mind."® Still he
: can give some indication where it lies:
It lies in the set of relations that Justice would
maintain between the Judge, the prisoner, and the
members of the community.9
I
In hanging innocent men we undermine the relations of
honor and truthfulness, relations which make our society
and way of life possible.10
6. Blanshard believes, then, that right is always
based on good. But he realizes it is sometimes very
. difficult to point to the good the right act brings into
! 7Reason and Goodness, p. 158.
i
; ®"The Impasse in Ethics and a Way Out," p. 97.
9ibid.
10Ibid., pp. 98-99.
existence. We find him saying, when pressed, that the j
! good lies in the community's way of life as a whole which j
j wrong act3 challenge and disrupt and right acts strengthen !
i
and preserve. When the consequences of "wrong" acts are
shown (or assumed) to have no possible disruptive influ-
I ence on the community's way of life, he says the disrup-
i I
! tion may in these cases be "a matter of logic." Just what
; this means it is difficult to say; Blanshard is not very
clear on the matter. From what he says there seem to be
at least three possibilities:
7. (l) He may have in mind the probability that
the act will weaken moral resolve:
To forsake engagements, truth and Justice whenever a
prospect of particular advantage comes in view would
be to weaken the claims of these things throughout
the whole range of our conduct. 1
I
[ If this is what he means, it surely will not do, for a
particular act may have no such tendency. ^ Moreover,
i the Judge is not forsaking Justice whenever a "mere
prospect" of advantage comes in view. This is an excep
tion which is clearly seen by the Judge to be the most
productive of goodness. Neither can it be said that
! making this one exception is likely to produce bad
j utilitarian habits in the Judge. If anything, it will
i
! strengthen a good habit, that of always doing what after
: Hlbid., p. 98.
! 12See pp. 88, 105 above.
j careful study of possible repercussions one ha3 every
reason to believe will produce the most good.
8. (2) In saying the disruption can be a matter
!
: of logic, Blanshard may mean the good to be lost In
punishing an Innocent man lies In the undermining of such
I
l
relations as honor, truthfulness, and Justice. Just what
| It would mean for a set of relations or arrangements to
be good, Blanshard does not say. He cannot mean, If he
wishes to be consistent, that these relations are good
in themselves, for on his view only experiences that
fulfil and satisfy have that sort of value.13 if only
those acts are right which bring into existence the
i greatest amount of fulfilment and satisfaction, the intrin
sic goodness which right acts maximize cannot lie in a
I
set of relations between experiences; such relations or
arrangements will be at most instrumentally good.
Blanshard means that the relations in
question--honor, truthfulness, and Justice— Just are
experiences or aspects of experiences that are fulfilling
and satisfying, then he can consistently say that these
relations are good in themselves. Or if he means that
these relations are part and parcel of a way of life that
is itself fulfilling and satisfying, inconsistency is
avoided. Unfortunately, Blanshard is not clear on this.
He does accept Ross's conclusion that Justice has intrin
sic value even though that value is not a property of any-
j one's experience. Whether this can be reconciled with tte
i view that Justice is an integral part of satisfying exper-
! iences or constitutive of a pattern of life, I do not
know. Since one does not know with what boundaries the
! words "experience,” "property," "relation," and "pattern
i of life" are being used, an analysis can hardly get under
I way.
I 337
I
| Unfortunately, Blanshard does not seem to be of
one mind on this matter. Writing in one place he
expresses the opinion that the relations of honor, truth
fulness, and Justice make society or our way of life
! possible and that it is in our way of life--or more
accurately, in the kind of experiences our way of life
makes possible--where the intrinsic goodness really
lies.l^ Writing in another place he expresses quite a
different opinion. In his discussion of deontology he
puts his stamp of approval on the view that the intrinsic
goodness which belongs to Justice "is not the property of
anyone's experience, but of a set of relations between
experiences."15 And he goes on to say, "If intrinsic
worth can be owned by a set of arrangements, why should
it not also be owned by that other set of arrangements in
which promises are kept, or truth told, or debts repaid?"^
If the first view is his considered one, we are
of course right back where we started: Acts are right
because they actually produce or tend to produce conse
quences, i.e. experiences, of the greatest intrinsic value.
j And if it can be demonstrated or if it is assumed that
punishing an innocent man or distributing goods unfairly
i
| -----------------------
^"The Impasse in Ethics and a Way Out,"
pp. 111-12.
I K
j - ^ Reason and Goodness, p. 151.
•^Ibld.; see also p. 322.
; 338
j will do this, i.e. produce more in the way of fulfilment
and satisfaction than any other action, what grounds can j
, i
j Blanshard have for condemning it? If, on the other hand, !
i
his considered view is that intrinsic goodness is owned
I
by a set of relations or arrangements that are not the
; property of anyone’s experience, he is able to say that
distributing goods fairly and refusing to punish those
i
known to be Innocent tends in and of itself to be right.
He is now able to say with Ross that a situation in which
the virtuous are happy and the wicked unhappy is an
intrinsically better state of affairs than one in which
the allotments are reversed, even though the net amount
I of fulfilment and satisfaction remains unchanged. But
how he can hold this view and at the same time insist only
| experiences that fulfil and satisfy possess intrinsic
I
' ■ value, I do not know.
9. (3) The disruption to which Blanshard refers
i
may be the undermining or forsaking of practices which
goes with the violation of their constitutive rules. To
break the defining rules of a practice which has utilitar-
, lan Justification, even when it can be kept secret and is
sure to produce more good, is, Blanshard says, to vote
i
| against the practice itself and the way of life the
! practice implies.^7 This is what the Judge would be doing
j-----------------------
! l7Ibid., p. 326.
I 339 j
i |
j were he to punish a man he knows to be innocent. He j
! i
i "would betray the Judicial system as a whole and indeed j
j the wider official system of which this is a part."1® !
i
| What Blanshard is concerned to emphasize is that
! Justice is an institution which supports a way of life
| and that the value of this institution cannot be divorced '
j |
I from the way of life it makes possible. The rule "Never
I
1 knowingly punish an innocent man" borrow value from the
I value or utility of the practice it defines and the wider
social system the observance of the rule sustains. Prom
this it might be thought that Blanshard is a rule-
utilitarian. He is not if this means
that we recognize two different and independent ways
of Justifying an action, one by bringing it under a
rule, and another by appealing to the good involved.
We recognize only one way, the latter. But if we are
to do Justice to actual thought, we must take some
actions as embodying practices which go beyond them,
and which must be accepted or rejected as wholes.19
We paid our respects to this defense in our discussion of
rule-utilitarianism and shall not repeat our arguments;20
the conclusion reached was that the appeal to defining
rules will not help the utilitarian out of his
i difficulties.
! ---
l8Ibid., p. 329.
■ ^ibld. Blanshard apparently thinks the practice
i conception of rules can be incorporated into act-
I utilitarianism.
20see chap. v.
| 10. We are now ready for Blanshard's final ,
defense. Were it demonstrated or assumed that in punishingj
| an Innocent man the Judge would be observing a rule defln- ;
I j
ing an even better practice than the present one, and that i
j i
' the consequences of his act, both immediate and remote, j
j
i would be the best achievable, Blanshard would still have
i
j a way out. He would Insist that acts of Justice, fair-
i ness, truthfulness, gratitude, and promise-keeping tend
to be right apart from any beneficial results they may
have, apart from any practice they maintain, apart from
the way of life they make possible.2* This, Blanshard
2*To take this view is of course to move some
distance away from the orthodox ideal utilitarian position.
! To take but one example, the ideal utilitarian Justifies
special obligations on the grounds that everyone's recog-
; nizing them increases the general good. We ought to give
i special consideration to members of our family and to
] those who have done us a good turn because as a public
: practice this produces more good than would be the case
if each man were to decide for himself whether more good
would be produced by recognizing or not recognizing these
I "special duties." Now the deontologists have been quick
to fault the utilitarians for overlooking the personal
character of duty. For me to say to someone who has saved
my life at considerable risk to his own, "My obligation to
follow a policy that promotes the general good is the only
good reason I have for making a special effort to aid you
i rather than any number of other individuals I do not even
; know" sounds strange and callous indeed. Blanshard thinks
he escapes this criticism, for on his view showing grati
tude tends to be right quite apart from its effect on the
! general good. Showing gratitude tends to be right because
j it is intrinsically good. He is not of course saying that
I one's obligation to repay debts of gratitude is an absolute
! duty. It may be my actual duty to help someone other than
j the person who helped me if the consequences of not doing
I so are sufficiently damaging to the general good. That is
i to say, the warrant to set aside a special obligation is
! present whenever the badness of the consequences is greater
1 thinks, Is the essential Insight of the deontologists.
The deontologists recognize that we often need look no
further than the act Itself to find the reason for its
rightness. They
think of such actions as promise-keeping as having a
rightness of their own, which they owe not to their
consequences but rather to being what they are. Here
I think the deontologists have the better argument.22
j
This also is the common-sense view. The plain man believes
that lying, breaking promises and punishing innocent people
is, or at least tends to be, wrong. Whatever consequences
are brought to his attention to establish their rightness
are usually dismissed as irrelevant:
Most of us would not only say before thinking of conse
quences that the hanging of an innocent man was wrong;
we should stick to our opinion, even when faced by
evidence we could not refute that society would profit
by the deed. Such tenacity strongly suggests that in
Justice of this kind we find an obligation that cannot
be wholly accounted for by any consideration of pros
pective gain, personal or social.2’
than the overall goodness of fulfilling the special obliga
tion. How one is to know when this point is reached is a
question Blanshard does not raise, however.
22Reason and Goodness, p. 148.
23lbid., p. 149. Cf. "In our Judgment that a
gratuitous falsehood is wrong there is surely something
very like self-evidence. . . . the wrongness of lying
seems to arise out of the character of lying as such. It
| does not always arise out of ill effects that we can fore-
: see, since even if there is nothing to choose between the
foreseeable consequences of lying and telling the truth,
we should still find something unfitting in wanton
deception." Ibid., p. 74. See also Blanshard's remarks
on p. 159*
[ ' . . . . " ' ' ” 3 ^ 2 j
11. The rightness of an act does not depend j
i I
solely on the good results to which the act directly or |
Indirectly gives rise. Even If we were 3ure as much net i
good would be produced by breaking a promise or by lying
I
or by punishing the Innocent as by doing the opposite, we
i
■ should still quite correctly think It wrong to do so. So 1
I
I far Blanshard Is In agreement with the deontologists. It
Is when the deontologists go on to say that our duty to
be just, to tell the truth, and to keep promises is
immediate and underivative that Blanshard parts company:
A strong case has been carried too far. When the
deontologists said that duty is not based always on
a goodness that follows the act in time, but sometimes
on the character of the act itself, they carried us
with them. . . . But when we are now told that such
! obligations have nothing to do either with the intrin
sic goodness of the acts, or of the state of things
they institute, let alone the goodness of their conse
quences, we feel as if the mat on which we had been
approaching this school had been pulled out from under
our feet. The obligations that were presented to us
as rational insights take on an air of caprice.2^
That the rightness of an act does not always depend on its
consequences may be granted, but an act is still "right
in virtue of producing goodness, if not in its conse
quences, then through being the kind of act it is."25
If it tends to be right to keep promises and to pay back
; debts of gratitude and to be Just, it is because of the
i
; good these actions bring into existence in themselves.
24Ibld., p. 150.
25lbld.. p. l60.
j _
; Where the deontologists go astray Is in severing the
connection between rightness and goodness altogether.
They say such acts tend to be right even though there is
no goodness in them at all:
We are being told that it may be a self-evident duty
to choose one rather than another state of affairs
even though, in respect to goodness, there is nothing
to choose between them. . . . we are being told that
state of things A may be definitely and admittedly
worse than B, and that it may still be our duty to
bring A into being.2fc>
Blanshard finds this most unconvincing: "'Act A, worth
less in itself, should be done'; that seems very dubious
indeed. 'Act A, because it is Intrinsically good, should
be done'; that is a different matter and makes sense
at once."2?
i
2^Ibld., p. 150. See also Blanshard, "The Impasse
in Ethics and a Way Out," pp. 98-99*
^?Reason and Goodness, p. 152. That such acts as
promise-keeping and reparation are intrinsically good (and
for that reason prima facie right) and such acts as lying
, and cheating intrinsically bad is also the view of Jan
Narveson, another act-utilitarian: "There is no incom
patibility between a teleological view, according to which
the ultimate criterion of a certain kind of goodness lies
in certain effects, and the assertion that some acts are
good in themselves. The explanation is simply that some
acts logically Include the effects in question: it is
I logically impossible to kill someone unless the victim
ends up dead, even though there is only a causal (hence
contingent) connection between pulling the trigger and the
! victim's death." Morality and Utility (Baltimore: Johns
I Hopkins Press, 1967)> P* 99* See also pp. 98, 192-93*
i In this book and in his article "Utilitarianism and
Formalism," Australasian Journal of Philosophy, XLIII
I (May, 1965), 58-72, Narveson argues that no hard and fast
: distinction can be drawn between acts and consequences.
' Since this is the case, one cannot speak of the intrinsic
i goodness of acts apart from any and all consequences they
! Blanshard's position, then, is this: that while i
! i
the rightness or obligatoriness of an act does not always |
! depend on the intrinsically good consequences it produces, ■
i
: it still depends on the balance of intrinsic good over
i
! evil the act brings into existence. It is important that
i !
| in assessing the rightness of an act we not neglect the
j intrinsic goodness of the act itself, the goodness that
is brought into existence as a part of the act and simul
taneously with the act's performance.2® This means, of
course, that Blanshard has moved some distance from utili
tarian orthodoxy. Having included in the class of intrin
sically good things all intrinsically good acts, he ends
with more intrinsic goods than even the ideal utilitarian
i
is usually willing to recognize.
i may have. The word "intrinsic” has no meaning unless it
is attached to a description, and the description of an
act often times logically includes some of its consequences.
Whether Blanshard would agree with this analysis I do not
; know.
2®There are surely difficulties with this view.
If there are intrinsically good acts, presumably acts of
generosity fall into this class. This means that if I
happen upon a concert ticket and know Jones would enjoy
the concert as much as I, it is my duty to give him the
I ticket, since the good which would result from my generous
I act and Jones' fulfilment and satisfaction is greater than
what would result from my going to the concert. Of course
S it would be Jones' duty to give the ticket back to me,
| since that would result in two acts of generosity plus
i the same amount of fulfilment and satisfaction. I, in
i turn, would have the duty to pass the ticket to Jones
again. And so on until the concert begins.
i
l
i
Now the deontologist may suggest that there is no ;
discernible difference between holding, as he does, that j
promise-keeping is prima facie right and holding, as !
Blanshard does, that promise-keeping is intrinsically goodj
! !
But Blanshard is convinced there is a very important dif-
| ference, viz., that for him the prima facie duty to keep
j promises is derived from the goodness of promise-keeping,
while for the deontologist this duty is underivative. For
Blanshard the obligation to keep promises has utilitarian
Justification; for the deontologist it does not. One may
ask, however, what It is about promise-keeping, apart from
its usually good consequences and the value of the wider
social system it supports, that makes it intrinsically
good. Given Blanshard's criteria of intrinsic value, he
' would have to hold that merely the act of keeping a pro-
i mise is a fulfilling and satisfying experience. He would
have to say that promise-keeping is a fulfilling and
satisfying experience because, on his view, only fulfilling
and satisfying experiences have Intrinsic value. Now I
suspect that in many cases keeping a promise is fulfilling
and satisfying. But I doubt this is true in every case.
' Some very convincing things would have to be said to
1
| render plausible the claim that keeping promises in "hard
i cases" is fulfilling and satisfying. Yet this claim would
! have to be made out if Blanshard wants to hold that the
| rightness of keeping promises in hard cases oftentimes
I depends solely on the Intrinsic goodness of promise-
i
keeping. Nowhere that I know of does Blanshard try to !
show that the keeping of one's promises is always fulfill- !
ing and satisfying. But this needs to be shown if he is
to make good his claim that promise-keeping always tends
to be right because keeping promises is intrinsically good.
! 12. That acts themselves have intrinsic value
apart from any results they have is Blanshard's last line
of defense against the objections of the deontological
school.29 Now a utilitarian of Blanshard's persuasion is
very difficult to refute. He will remind us that in
appraising the rightness of an act, or assessing its net
utility, we must consider not only its immediate
^It is interesting to note that this line of
; retreat is not new. Having observed that duties are
; seldom Justified by appealing to consequences, H. A.
Prichard goes on to remark: "It is, I think, Just because
this form of the view is so plainly at variance with our
moral consciousness, that we become driven to adopt the
i other view, viz., that the act is good in itself and that
its intrinsic goodness is the reason why it ought to be
done. It is this form which has always made the most
serious appeal; for the goodness of the act itself seems
more closely related to the obligation to do it than that
of its mere consequences or results, and therefore, if
obligation is to be based on the goodness of something,
i it would seem that this goodness should be that of the act
itself." "Does Moral Philosophy Rest on a Mistake?" p. 25.
It is Prichard's opinion that this latter view, while less
! superficial, is no more tenable than the first. What is
! overlooked is that the act would not be Judged to be
: intrinsically good unless it was thought to be right. Now
if the reason an act is considered intrinsically good is
that it is recognized to be right or obligatory, the act
; cannot be said to be right because it is intrinsically
good.
) consequences, not only Its effects on the formation of
habits and character, not only Its repercussions on public
l
| confidence, not only the value of the way of life it
i
! supports--important as these all are--but also the value
of the act itself. Throw all this into the balance and
one will discover it is very difficult to find a case,
I
I
| real or imagined, where it would be right on utilitarian
1 grounds to hang an innocent person, or to break a promise
I to a dying man, or to desert one’s spouse, or to refuse
to repay a debt of gratitude, or to save one’s own life by
: torturing to death a friend. Even if we build into our
examples the conditions of secrecy and beneficial conse-
; quences and rule out any deleterious effects on habits,
s
character, public trust, and the community's way of life,
j the intrinsic value of the acts remains and may by itself
be the decisive factor.
!
II
13. The utilitarian who says acts themselves may
be intrinsically good or bad is able to escape most of the
; criticisms which are fatal to other types of utilitarian-
ism. If, like Blanshard, he goes on to invest intrinsic
i value in certain sets of relations or arrangements between
1
! experiences or states of mind, he becomes even more
; invulnerable to ordinary kinds of criticism. For now he
! is able to say it is an intrinsically better state of
I 3^8
I
j affairs when the greedy are unhappy and the charitable
! i
happy than when it is the other way round. The arrangement!
holding when the charitable are happier than the greedy is |
itself intrinsically good, he will say, while the other
I
arrangement is not. He is able on utilitarian grounds to
| say why it is wrong to secretly distribute goods in such I
| a way that the greedy and undeserving get them at the
i
I
expense of the more deserving, and why it may be wrong to
tax the working class to provide for the lazy but needy.
Fairness of distribution or distribution according to
merit, he will claim, is itself Intrinsically good and
its opposite intrinsically bad; the intrinsic badness in
an unfair distribution of goods is by itself usually
sufficient to make any such act wrong.30
14. (l) Though Blanshard believes a fair distribu
tion of a certain quantity of good is always better than
an unfair distribution, it is clear that he cannot hold
this view and at the same time claim what ought always to
be performed is the act that produces not less than the
3°I am inclined to think that here Blanshard is
confusing rightness with goodness. If an equitable dis-
| tribution of goods is said to be intrinsically good, is
it not on the grounds that we see this to be right? Isn't
it because we believe goods ought to be distributed fairly
that we say it is good that they be so distributed? If
it wasn't first seen that persons ought to be accorded
■ comparable treatment, that persons ought to be given equal
consideration, would there be any reason for saying that
: fair treatment is good in itself? I cannot see that there
would be. And does this not suggest that "ought" rather
| than "good" is the fundamental ethical concept?
| greatest net fulfilment and satisfaction. In the first
; place, it is surely conceivable that as much or more net
fulfilment and satisfaction would be produced if the
undeserving were given the lion's share and substantially
I less accorded to those more deserving. Thus, if fairness
j is taken to mean apportionment of goods according to
t
I merit, it may, on Blanshard's view, be a duty to sometimes
i
i distribute goods unfairly. In the second place, it is
possible that act x would produce 100 units of fulfilment
and satisfaction for person A and only 2 units each for
B, C, D, and E; while act y would produce 20 units for
each of the five. Assuming that none of the five is more
deserving than the other and that in these circumstances
fairness of distribution means evenness of distribution,
I what does Blanshard's view entail? It requires, does it
not, that act x be done. If the right act is the one that
produces not less than the greatest amount of fulfilment
and satisfaction, act x would be the right one for it
would deliver 108 units while act y would produce only 100.
15. We have said that so long as the utilitarian
says there is intrinsic goodness in the apportionment of
1 goods according to merit, and where merit is not a factor,
l
J in an even distribution of goods, he is able to solve at
I
j least most of the problems that arise in matters of distri-
! bution in a way that squares with our substantive moral
I convictions. What Blanshard seems not to have noticed is
! ~ ‘ 350
i
j that taking this step requires relinquishing the view that
fulfilment and satisfaction are the sole determinants of
value and the sole grounds of right and duty. One cannot
i
I claim that it is a duty to distribute goods equitably when
! exactly as much (or more) fulfilment and satisfaction
would be produced by an inequitable distribution and at
! the same time insist that duty is a function of fulfilment
and satisfaction alone. On Blanshard's theory of value,
only experiences that fulfil and satisfy can be intrinsi
cally good, and a pattern of distribution, whatever else
it may be, is not an experience.31 An equitable distri
bution may usually result in a felicific distribution,
that is a distribution which achieves the greatest net
fulfilment and satisfaction, but it need not always. And
j in cases where it does not, distributing goods equitably
^ I should not think it incorrect to say that the
distributing Itself is an experience, an experience which
; may well be fulfilling and satisfying and therefore intrin
sically good. It is conceivable, however, that a person
might unwittingly distribute goods unfairly. Should that
happen, the person's act of distributing would (provided
that it was a satisfying experience) be intrinsically good,
but the way the goods were distributed would not on that
account be intrinsically good. Similarly, a person might
i unwittingly distribute goods fairly while intending to
; distribute them unfairly. In this case the intrinsic good
ness of the fair distribution would not depend on the dis-
I tributor's experience or act of distributing. The point
| of these illustrations is to show that, though acts of
! distributing might be said to be experiences, the way goods
are distributed is not an experience. And if only experi
ences can be intrinsically good or bad, the way goods are
: distributed is not intrinsically good or bad. The way
! goods are distributed will be only instrumentally good
I or bad.
| does not have even instrumental value, let alone intrin
sic value.
16. Two further observations: Firstly, were
I
: Blanshard to alter his theory of value to include more
' than what fulfils and satisfies in the class of intrinsi-
i
i cally good things, he would still have these questions to
| answer: How heavily should be weighted the good of fair
ness of distribution? What should be done if substantially
more fulfilment and satisfaction could be predicted from
an Inequitable distribution of goods? How much fulfilment
and satisfaction would have to result from an unfair dis
tribution to counterbalance (or compensate for) the bad-
; ness inherent in inequitable distribution? One would have
to know this in order to determine whether an act that
! distributes goods unfairly but produces more fulfilment
and satisfaction brings into existence more or less net
intrinsic good than another act that distributes goods
fairly, but produces less fulfilment and satisfaction.
And it may well be that this sort of determination is in
principle impossible owing to the two very different types
; of intrinsic goods we are now working with. In order to
compare two intrinsically good things or to measure them
: against each other they must have a common goodness. But
what would be the goodness shared by a principle of dis
tribution and a fulfilling and satisfying experience? If
! they are alike in virtue of some common nature, I do not
| 352
i know what it is.
i
17- Secondly, even if fairness of distribution is
; invested with intrinsic worth, the utilitarian is not yet
I
i out of the woods. Suppose he were confronted with the
! |
choice of bringing into existence a world with only one !
i ^
| individual who would live forever or a world of a billion !
1 ,
I inhabitants each of whom would live about seventy years. j
i Assuming the man in the first world would experience Just
as much day to day fulfilment and satisfaction as the
average man in the second world, the utilitarian would
3till have to choose the first world. For even if a wider
distribution of fulfilment and satisfaction is intrinsi
cally better than a narrower distribution, the pattern of
distribution in the second world could not be of infinite
! worth as it would have to be in order to equal the infinite
intrinsic value which attaches to the life of the man who
would live forever happy and fulfilled. Nor can the
utilitarian expect to Justify his selection of the second
world on the grounds that his very choice (or act of
choosing) is intrinsically good, unless he is prepared to
explain how the choice of a finite individual has, apart
from any of its effects, infinite intrinsic worth,
i 18. (2) If acts are themselves intrinsically
i good, how many intrinsically good acts (or types of acts)
; are there? Are there as many types of intrinsically good
i
| acts as there are types of right acts? Here Blanshard is
- 3 5 3:
I ;
| non-committal. Presumably he could maintain either that
all right acts are Intrinsically good or that only some
| are. Which of these two he would find more agreeable Is j
! hard to say. On either view complexities would mount. j
! To say only some right acts are intrinsically good raises j
| the problem of how to determine which right acts are I
j
I intrinsically good and which are not. An acceptable
i
criterion that decides this would surely be difficult to
find. As we have already noted, fulfilment and satisfac
tion cannot serve as the criteria, and it is doubtful any
other criteria of intrinsic value would fare better. To
say all right acts are intrinsically good would avoid the
; problem of how to decide which of the right acts are
intrinsically good acts too, but again we should want to
; know in virtue of what are all right acts also intrinsi-
!
cally g o o d .32
19. (3) It was Ross's contention that there is
no single reason why all obligatory acts are obligatory:
I would contend that in principle there is no reason
to anticipate that every act that is our duty is so
for the same reason. . . . When I ask what it is that
makes me in certain cases sure that I have a prima
facie duty to do so and so, I find that this lies in
the fact that I made a promise; when I ask the same
question in another case, I find the answer lies in
32if the teleological ethiclst says that acts are
intrinsically good in virtue of their rightness, he is
; arguing in a circle: Acts are right because they are
: intrinsically good and they are intrinsically good
’ because they are right.
r . . - ’ ’ ” ~ . ~ 354
j the fact that I have done a wrong. And if on reflec-
! tion I find (as I think I do) that neither of these
reasons is reducible to the other, I must not on any
a priori ground assume that such a reduction is
| possible.33
; Now Blanshard admits that Ross could be correct in saying
l
that there is no one thing that makes all obligatory acts
[ obligatory, but most moralists have rejected this claim
; and here Blanshard sides with the majority. To go the
i
1 route of Ross, Blanshard suggests, is to leave our duties
an "unconnected heap," to make a self-evident insight the
ground of every prima facie obligation, to have no way to
adjudicate their claims when they conflict, and to make
too liberal a use of intuition.3^ Blanshard thinks that
he fares better on all these counts. To make right and
duty depend on good is to make goodness rather than a host
of self-evident insights the ground of our obligations;
1
it is to bring all our duties under a single principle to
which an appeal can be made when they conflict; and it is
to make a more sparing use of intuition in matters of
moral concern. How are these claims to be assessed?
20. (a) To be sure, Blanshard1s theory, with its
one absolute principle or duty, viz. to produce good, is
33The Right and the Good, p. 24. For Blanshard's
j comments on this see Reason and Goodness, p. 153.
34Por
these criticisms see chap. vi of Reason and
Goodness. On Ross's view we must not only intuit the truth
of several self-evident principles of action but we must
1 also intuit which of these are to take precedence when a
i choice must be made between them.
! theoretically simpler than Ross's where there are several
I
independent and irreducible principles of action. But
! a simpler theory is to be preferred to a more complex one
i
only if both cover equally well the facts of moral exper
ience. We shall argue shortly that a theory with one
! fundamental moral principle does not do this.35 Whether
i
I Blanshard's theory makes it easier in actual practice to
decide between conflicting duties is in any case surely
debatable. In order to apply the utility principle, we
should have to be able to forecast the immediate and more
remote consequences of two or more acts and also to esti
mate the intrinsic worth of the acts themselves if they
have any. We should, in addition to this, have to take
into account the intrinsic goodness of the different
I relations or arrangements between experiences that the
acts might bring into being. To make our calculations
complete, we should have to consider as well whether either
act instances a rule that defines a beneficial practice,
and if so to estimate the goodness of the practice and the
way of life it sustains. Needless to say, to make all
these calculations would not be easy. Yet they would have
to be made before one could be at all confident he had not
misapplied the utility principle. The difficulties
inherent in the application of the principle do not, of
35fielow pp. 359-71.
! '....... ' ..............." ' " 356
| course, disprove the principle. Blanshard would argue
that this only shows how complex our moral experience is
j and how easy it is to be mistaken in our duties.If the
i
i estimations we hazard are imprecise, this is no fault of
! the utility principle; we must, after all, not expect more
i
precision in ethics than the subject matter itself permits.
i With this we are more than willing to agree. What can be
1
i questioned, however, is whether Blanshard1s one principle
is easier to apply than Ross's several, and whether it
really provides for a more accurate assessment of competing
obligations. I cannot see on the level of concrete prac
tice that it does. Blanshard's one supreme principle
promises to tidy things up, but once the principle is
interpreted and modified, once all the qualifications are
; introduced, the principle is Just as unwieldy as those it
• sought to displace.
21. (b) It is clear that Blanshard's own reliance
on intuition or direct insight is considerable. The basic
intuition that gets his theory started is that whatever
fulfils and satisfies, and only what fulfils and satisfies,
; is intrinsically good. But more intuitions follow.37
Once it is clearly seen that "good” means fulfilment and
1 1 1 1 11 " - i - - r - '
36see, for example, p. 157 of Reason and
Goodness.
37lbid., pp. 125, 137, 159, 230, 270, 322; The
; Nature of Thought. II, 407.
1 I
I satisfaction, It is supposed to become intuitively obvious s
; i
that there is a necessary connection between goodness and j
rightness, that the rightness of an act depends exclusively;
on the good it brings into existence. It is self-evident
1 that any painful experience is intrinsically bad, and that i
j I
any pleasurable experience is intrinsically good. Also 1
i that one man's experience is as good as another's if it
is equally fulfilling and satisfying, and that an act
cannot be right for one man and an exactly similar act
wrong for another man, if there is no relevant difference
in their natures or the circumstances, also seem to be
intuitively known. The appeal to even more intuitions
is unavoidable, we have suggested, if Blanshard is to know
the extent to which any experience is intrinsically good.
For to say an experience is intrinsically good is to say
not only that it satisfies, but also that it is a fulfil
ment of human potentiality or a set of "ideal" desires,
and this cannot be determined by empirical means. We
must also recognize a separate intuition for each intrinsi
cally good arrangement between experiences or states of
mind. If someone of Blanshard's persuasion is going to
make a choice between two or more acts or experiences, is
| it not obvious that he may be relying on a goodly number
of intuitions? I do not criticize Blanshard for relying
' on intuition, only for failing to see the number of
: intuitions to which his own view commits him, and for
| 358
| taking Ross to task for employing too many intuitions
|
when his own view necessitates no fewer.
22. (c) Blanshard criticizes Ross for not having
; an overarching principle by means of which to decide, when J
prima facie duties conflict, which are our actual duties, j
I I
I i
I But does Blanshard's own position escape this criticism 1
i
I altogether? If we must choose between two acts, one of
which produces more satisfaction but less fulfilment while
the other produces the same allotments but in reverse,
Blanshard's principle gives us no basis for a decision.
Or to take a different example, if one act produces 100
units of fulfilment and satisfaction but distributes it
unfairly while another act produces 90 units but distri
butes it fairly, there is again no way to decide which
act is our actual duty because Blanshard never says how
much intrinsic goodness attaches to fairness of distribu
tion. But even if he were to specify how much intrinsic
goodness is owned by equitable distribution, he would
still be unable to decide cases where equal and unequal
distributions produce the same net utilities. Blanshard's
principle does not, then, provide solutions to all prob
lems, and a principle that does not can hardly lay claim
to being the fundamental principle of morality, the
principle by reference to which all questions of morality
may be decided.
j 23. (d) Blanshard complains that Ross leaves no
l
common nature in what is right. But is his own view
j really more satisfactory? Blanshard says that all right
I
I acts are right in virtue of their productiveness of what
i
■ is intrinsically good, but this only shifts the problem
! to good. If individual acts and relations between experi-
|
! ences and fulfilling and satisfying states of mind are all
1 intrinsically good, there is surely no common nature in
what is good, no single reason why intrinsically good
things are good. Some acts are right because they give
rise to the most fulfilment and satisfaction; other acts
are right because they distribute goods fairly, which is
: an intrinsically good thing; still other acts are right
because, though they produce no more fulfilment and
j satisfaction than other acts, they are acts of promise-
I
keeping or of reparation or of gratitude, all of which
are intrinsically good because they are the kinds of act
they are. If there is an advantage in ending with an
unconnected heap of intrinsic goods in place of an uncon
nected heap of right acts, I have failed to spot it.
24. (4) The argument of this dissertation has
been that it is a mistake to base the rightness of acts,
i and the obligation to perform them, exclusively on the
good realized in or by them. Those who claim that the
| rightness of an act may depend either on the goodness of
i the act itself, or the goodness to which the act directly
or indirectly leads, do, of course, find their utilitar
ianism easier to defend than those who justify acts in
terms of their consequences alone. But both views are
unsatisfactory. If we ask ourselves why we consider it
right or obligatory to keep our promises or to tell the
truth or to pay our taxes, it is doubtful that we should
reply, "Because doing these things originates something
good; not doing them, something bad."38 I do not deny
that breaking promises, telling lies, and cheating on
taxes originates what is bad, if not always, then at least
most of the time. What I do question is whether the bad
ness of such acts is sole reason for their wrongness; Just
as I question whether the sole grounds for the rightness
of keeping promises and telling the truth is the good such
acts in one way or other produce. Even if one admits
(which I do not) that those acts which bring into exis
tence the most good ought always to be done, this does not
imply that the reason those acts ought to be done is the
good they originate. It may be that acts are (recognized
38cf. Prichard's remark in "Does Moral Philosophy
Rest on a Mistake?" p. 25: "Suppose we ask ourselves
whether our sense that we ought to pay our debts or to
tell the truth arises from our recognition that in doing
so we should be originating something good, . . . We, at
once, and without hesitation answer 'No.' Again, if we
take as our illustration our sense that we ougnt to act
Justly as between two parties, we have, if possible, even
less hesitation in giving a similar answer; for the
balance of resulting good may be, and often is, not on
the side of Justice."
361
to be ) good because (we first sense) they ought to be
done. This Is H. A. Prichard's opinion:
So far from the sense that we ought to do It being
derived from our apprehension of Its goodness, our
apprehension of Its goodness will presuppose the sense
that we ought to do It. In other words, In this case
the recognition that the act Is good will plainly
presuppose the recognition that the act Is right,
whereas the view under consideration [Blanshard's,
for Instance3 is that the recognition of the goodness
of the act gives rise to the recognition of Its
rightness.39
The utilitarian has not established his case, then, if
\ he succeeds only In showing that the class of acts that
originate the most good and the class of acts that are
right coincide. To make good his claim he would have to
show that all right acts are right because they are
optimific, that their goodness is the ground of their
rightness. Now I do not think the utilitarian has suc
ceeded in showing this. For that matter, I do not believe
he has shown that every member of the class of right acts
| is a member of the class of optimific acts. Were it
i possible to find Just one case where the right act would
I
I not bring into existence the most good, utilitarianism
i
i would be refuted. Can such an act be found? I think so,
although here there is no room for dogmatism. To claim
to have arrived at such an act, when the utilitarian
includes In the ranks of the intrinsically good not only
39ibid., p. 26. Blanshard, of course, thinks it
is irrational to believe an act ought ever to be done for
reasons other than its goodness.
j 362
1 lin
j certain states of mind, but also Individual act, motives, w
and relations between experiences, is, I grant, to claim
! a great deal. But let me see how far I can go toward
j establishing it.
i
| 25. Suppose Mr. A has a great deal of money
| stashed away and I know that if I do not steal it B will. !
| Let us further suppose that A is in a deep coma from which
i
! it is virtually certain he will not recover, that no one
except B and me knows about the money, that B doesn't
know that I know about the money, and that everybody else
is convinced on good grounds that A has always been a
poor man. If we may assume that the act of stealing A's
j money is as intrinsically bad whether I do it or B does
it, that the consequences are likely to be equally bad if
either of us should be caught (we are both respected
\
professors with large families, etc.), and that both of
us will put the money to the same use, it follows, does
it not, that I have no grounds to refrain from stealing
it. Since both acts, all things considered, would be
equally bad, there is nothing in respect to utility to
choose between them. Most of us, however, have the fairly
decided moral conviction that I would still do wrong in
I
j _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _
; ^°In Blanshard's case, at any rate, the disposi-
! tion or intent to do one's duty is both intrinsically and
iextrinsically good. See his Reason and Goodness, p. 333.
T " " " ' 363
I stealing the money. But in this case the wrongness could
!
; not depend on utilitarian considerations.
| Now we shall change the circumstances a bit.
I Assume that the crime can never be proved and that B and
! I both know this.^ I know that if B steals the money he
| will not feel remorse (which to feel in this case would
i
I presumably be good). I also know B will use the money to
i add to his collection of pornographic literature. If I
steal the money, I will feel remorse; I will do it because
I want to save B from further character deterioration and
because I believe it is my utilitarian duty (good motives);
and I will use the money to further charitable causes
(good consequences) . If these conditions be granted, it
i
seems that on Blanshard's theory it would be my duty to
| steal the money before B does. We • , ’ Ight agree that both
acts of stealing would be bad, but surely the one, all
things considered, is less bad than the other. And it is
always one's duty on utilitarian grounds to do whichever
of two acts is less bad if there Is no third alternative.
Again I think most conscientious persons would say it Is
not my duty to steal the money, which indicates that duty
is not to be determined on the basis of utilitarian con-
I
| siderations alone. We simply do not feel ourselves under
^Which renders pointless my going to the
; authorities and informing them of A's money and B's
1 intent to steal it.
364
obligation to always choose the greatest good or the
lesser of two evils.
26. (5) Is it irrational to reject the utility
principle as the supreme principle of morality, as the
one and only ground of right and duty? I do not believe
j i o
so. c Notice, I am not denying that the utility principle
■ has an important role to play in moral reasoning; I am
only suggesting that it is not the fundamental principle.
There is at least one other principle--viz. that of treat
ing persons, oneself included, never as a means only—
which carries at least as much weight as the utility
principle, and may at times override it. We have the duty
to further the public good, but we also have the duty to
treat people as ends in themselves; and these are two
^Neither does Henry David Aiken, whose words on
this question are worth quoting: "Although it is true
that, as rational agents ... we should never rest in a
conflict of principles without first carefully searching
for a more ultimate principle, it can scarcely be held
that we are bound to discover such a principle or that
we may not in conscience find that among our ultimate
commitments there will be some that, in practice, do
seriously conflict. After centuries of search, moral
philosophers have found no one supreme principle which in
hard cases all reasonable men must in conscience acknow
ledge as prior in its claims to every other. On the
contrary, I believe that, if we are candid, we will have
to admit that we are morally certain that there are
I equally binding principles which, at least in hard cases,
1 do involve us in fundamental conflicts of duties."
Reason and Conduct (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, Inc.,
1962}, p. 103. For Aiken's own very pointed remarks on
the inadequacy of utilitarianism see pp. 101, 102, 310.
L.
independent duties. That act x would produce, or is
believed would produce, the most net good is not, then,
a sufficient reason for doing x;^3 it is not a necessary
condition in the Justification of x either. It is only
a presumptive reason for doing x. That is to say, it is
one's duty to do x if other things are equal. But other
things are not equal, if to produce the greatest good one
has to use other people as a mere means. It is, as Kant
so clearly saw, always prima facie wrong to only use
people, even if it is to maximize the collective good.
I submit that the chief failing of the utilitarians, of
whatever stripe, is their unwillingness to recognize this,
and this failure is the source of their main difficulties.
This, by the way, Is the signal defect in egoist theories
as well. The egoist may believe that his own interests
are best served by giving due consideration to the inter
ests of others, but so long as he promotes the interests
of others only because it promotes his own he does what is
prima facie wrong. The point can be put this way: the
egoist and the utilitarian are both right in what they
deny and both wrong in what they affirm. The egoist
(rightly) rejects the utilitarian tenet that each man has
^3if it is believed that an act will produce the
most good, that is not by itself a sufficient reason to
make the act subjectively rightj if an act will produce
the most good, that is not by itself a sufficient reason
to make the act objectively right.
j a duty to do whatever maximizes the collective good, while i
' j
' the utilitarian (rightly) rejects the egoist thesis
| "Every man for himself." But both are wrong in their !
I
i advocacy of an ethic of expediency. The egoist considers
i
1 justified any act that is expedient from the point of view
j !
I of the agent. The utilitarian considers Justified any act !
!
i (or class of acts) that is expedient from the point of
j
f
' view of society. Neither view has a proper appreciation
of individual rights and freedoms. The egoist in his
deliberations doesn't pay sufficient attention to the
rights of others, and when he does pay attention to them,
it is for the wrong reasons; the utilitarian doesn't con-
| sider himself obliged to respect the rights of others,
I
unless doing so maximizes utility, which again is the
| i i i i
' wrong reason.
I
27. To treat persons only as a means to some
further end, be that end one's own good (egoism) or the
^For the utilitarian, a man never has the right
to do what is contrary to the public interest; nor is
there any duty to let a man do what he pleases when what
he wants to do is not conducive to the general good.
"The right to freedom, like the right to life, is limited,
j What imposes the limit? The same authority that confers
; the right, namely the public good. . . . not only right
but rights are derivative from the general good.' Blan-
! shard, "Morality and Politics," pp. 20-21. This, I should
I think, is a dangerous doctrine. It implies, does it not,
i that the industrious have no right to their income if the
collective good would be enhanced by expropriating sub-
; stantial portions of it and doling it out to the lazy.
I I do not see how this conclusion can be avoided if a man's
rights are derivative from, and wholly limited by, the
general good.
; collective good (utilitarianism), is always prima facie (
wrong. If this sounds rather Kantian, that is perhaps
good. But I believe it is the implicit recognition or
; acceptance of the dignity and worth of the individual qua
individual, and only this, which is able to satisfactorily
! !
account for much of what is considered prima facie right
i
: j
! and prima facie wrong. It is why, for example, we have
1 grave reservations about making the mentally retarded
expendable in the cause of medical research. It is why
we are reluctant to say it is right when a Judge has
hanged for the public good a man whom only he knows to be
innocent. Were we assured that all such acts are really
optimific, that would not remove our hesitation. It is
why we think it is inherently wrong for a man to save his
| own life by torturing to death a friend under the watchful
i
eye of cannibals and then taking an elixir to blot the
episode from his memory. It is also why we would not
consider it my duty to steal in the circumstances des
cribed above. To steal A's money would be to regard
myself as a mere means to B's good and to the greater good
I of society. For the same reason it is considered prima
facie right to keep promises, even when more net good can
I
! be produced by breaking them. Not to keep a promise made
secretly to a dying man is to regard his interests as only
; instrumental to the general good, as something to be set
i aside whenever doing so will enlarge to the slightest the
collective good. Again, why is it considered prima facie |
right to pay tribute to those who have sacrificed their j
| lives on the battlefield to preserve our freedom? !
i Because it is recognized that each person is an end in |
himself. Not to pay respect to those fallen is to regard j
i {
I their lives and their freedom as a mere means to our own '
I ;
i and society's good. And the list could go on. Were it
demonstrated that slightly more net good would result if
a small portion of the population were enslaved or if
heavy taxes were imposed on the industrious to provide
luxuries for the indolent, we should still think it wrong
to condone these practices. Why? Because these practices
involve treating individuals as a mere means to some
further end. The utilitarian, on the other hand, would
have to sanction these practices if they did produce more
net good than the prevailing practices because he believes
our duty is always to increase good and diminish evil, no
matter what must be done to this or that individual to
achieve that end. For him, any inequality, any curtail
ment of freedom, however great, is Justified if it results
in a net gain of utility, however small that gain may be.
It is always prima facie wrong to regard persons
I
; as a means only. This is not to say it is always actually
wrong to do so. In the case of a promise made in private
; to a dying man, for example, it may be one's actual duty
I to break it. This would be the case if by breaking the
| promise one could save the lives of a dozen people. To
let a dozen people die in order to keep one's promise
would not only be likely to diminish the general happiness ;
but it would also be to regard the lives of these persons j
j j
as a means to one's own and the dead man's interests. The j
i
i principle, then, cuts both ways, and it may give rise to
| competing obligations. But when this happens, one's
i
actual duty is not to be decided by the utility principle
alone, unless the strengths of these other obligations are
equal.
28. It has been the argument of this dissertation
that every attempt to base right and duty on good alone
ends in failure. In this chapter an investigation into
Blanshard's utilitarianism was launched. We found that
!
he takes several paths in order to close the gap between
the substantive moral convictions of reasonable men and
the requirements of the utility principle. Like all
I
utilitarians, he believes the intrinsic goodness an act
brings into existence is the sole ground of its being
right or obligatory, but he differs from other utilitar-
; ians in the number of things he believes to be of intrinsic
worth. Not only kinds of experiences but also relations
i
j between experiences, motives, and individual acts apart
from their consequences can possess Intrinsic value; all
; of these must therefore be taken into account when apprais-
! ing net utility. What Blanshard seems not to have
| ' 370 j
i
! realized, however, is that this part of his utilitarianism j
i !
is inconsistent with his criteria of intrinsic value. j
| However that may be, when the utility principle is so !
broadly conceived, it is highly resistant to deontological
criticism and counterexamples. Nonetheless, I believe i
the sort of utilitarianism Blanshard defends is unsatis- ■
1 (
i factory. What is right, what we ought to do, seems to me
not to depend always and only on utilitarian considera-
j
tions. Even if right acts always do bring into existence
the most overall good, it does not follow that the only
reason acts are right is that they produce the most good.
That productiveness of good is not the only right-making
consideration, that acts may be right or obligatory for
i
quite different reasons, seems to me the more defensible
; view. It is all very well to say keeping promises and
paying debts and showing gratitude to benefactors is
intrinsically good, but if these things are pronounced
good in themselves it is because they are recognized to
be right. And the reason these acts are (or tend to be)
right is not that they originate a present or future good.
I Showing gratitude to a benefactor is (or tends to be)
right because of something that transpired in the past,
i
| something in virtue of which the present display of
gratitude is a fitting or suitable response. My obllga-
! tion to a benefactor is a direct obligation; it is not
i derivative from my obligation to bring into existence as
much good as I am able. This view seems to me to be
one that best accords with our moral Intuitions.
372 |
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Asset Metadata

Creator Pederson, Lamoyne Lloyd (author)

Core Title An Investigation Of The Forms And Defenses Of Teleological Ethical Theories, With Emphasis On The Ethical Theory Of Brand Blanshard

Degree Doctor of Philosophy

Degree Program Philosophy

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag OAI-PMH Harvest,Philosophy

Language English

Contributor Digitized by ProQuest (provenance)

Advisor Willard, Dallas (committee chair), Hospers, John (committee member), Robb, J. Wesley (committee member)

Permanent Link (DOI) https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-c18-449396

Unique identifier UC11362151

Identifier 7107733.pdf (filename),usctheses-c18-449396 (legacy record id)

Legacy Identifier 7107733.pdf

Dmrecord 449396

Document Type Dissertation

Rights Pederson, Lamoyne Lloyd

Type texts

Source University of Southern California (contributing entity), University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses (collection)

Access Conditions The author retains rights to his/her dissertation, thesis or other graduate work according to U.S. copyright law. Electronic access is being provided by the USC Libraries in agreement with the au...

Repository Name University of Southern California Digital Library

Repository Location USC Digital Library, University of Southern California, University Park Campus, Los Angeles, California 90089, USA