John Stuart Mill teaches us that all humans desire happiness. It is therefore right and good that a person should maximize her own happiness, develop a full life rich with various pleasures and containing only minimal pains, invest in herself, experiment with life, flourish. Mill encourages us to pursue these goals through all the stages of our lives. At the same time, he suggests that we are also morally obligated to maximize happiness not just for ourselves but for others too. One’s personal happiness matters little when placed up against the general happiness of a community. So a person can only live ethically by maximizing that which is most good for humans: happiness. Taking this moral duty seriously means dedicating as much time as possible toward the promotion of other persons‘ happiness. But what if one’s personal road to happiness does not run parallel to a life spent serving others? In other words, when self-interest and the duty to be selfless conflict, which should win out? This may in fact be the most fundamental question in utilitarian ethics, but sadly Mill is very unclear on this issue.
When I think of “utilitarian ethics,” I imagine a system whose main focus is selfless, individual action which seeks to benefit others in some way. Such an ethical system should require certain kinds of selfless actions, provide a philosophical foundation to justify these actions, define their scope, and perhaps even incentivize persons to act.
By selfless, individual actions, I mean actions which:
A) individuals perform (as opposed to the state or “society” performing them),
B) are carried out for the good of others (as opposed to for the good of the individual performing the action), and
C) may require varying degrees of personal sacrifice (the good of the many must outweigh the good of the one).
I call this an outward-facing, personal ethics. It strongly encourages, perhaps requires, that the agent promote the happiness of others. This is opposed to an inward-facing, hedonistic utilitarianism which encourages the agent to seek out and maximize her own happiness. Mill has much to say about the latter ethics and less (but not nothing) to say about the former. Does he take outward-facing, personal ethics seriously? If not, can we really call his ethics “ethics” at all?
Mill, who generally takes great pains to be clearly understood, muddles up this whole question to a surprising degree. No doubt, the question of where our duties to ourselves cease and where the duties to others begin is a sticky one. It’s a swamp, a quagmire, a tangled mess. It has flummoxed many a philosopher, and Mill is no exception. Whenever he ventures into the swamp, he immediately realizes the danger and backs right back out again as fast as he can. Before he does, he says just enough to leave the reader puzzled.
Chapter II of Utilitarianism is a fine example of this muddle. It contains some forceful and, at time, grandiose language about the importance of an outward-facing ethics. Self sacrifice for the good of others is “the highest virtue which can be found in man”.1 Actions are right in relation to how much happiness they produce2 (a clear injunction to maximize communal happiness). His emphasis on the importance of human dignity3 and his definition of a happy life4 are of course applicable to the individual focusing on her own happiness, but they could also be ethical calls to arms, demanding that we fight for the restoration of dignity to those who have lost it (through poverty, poor health, or unhappy circumstance), and to lessen the pains felt by those less fortunate than ourselves. He decrees: “I must again repeat, what the assailants of utilitarianism seldom have the justice to acknowledge, that the happiness which forms the utilitarian standard of what is right in conduct, is not the agent’s own happiness, but that of all concerned. As between his own happiness and that of others, utilitarianism requires him to be as strictly impartial as a disinterested and benevolent spectator.”5
Yet in the same chapter, Mill takes pains to water down this outward-facing, ethical duty. It is, after all, unreasonable to require the average person to put her own happiness on hold, to require that she set as her life-long goal the enhancement of communal happiness. “The great majority of good actions are intended not for the benefit of the world, but for that of individuals, of which the good of the world is made up; and the thoughts of the most virtuous man need not on these occasions travel beyond the particular persons concerned, except so far as is necessary to assure himself that in benefiting them he is not violating the rights, that is, the legitimate and authorised expectations, of any one else.”6 So we need not, it seems, concern ourselves with the happiness of individuals outside our tiny circle of self and loved ones. So long as we don’t violate the rights of others, we meet our moral obligation to them. Shortly after the “benevolent spectator” line, he demonstrates his skill at back-pedaling: “It is the business of ethics to tell us what are our duties, or by what test we may know them; but no system of ethics requires that the sole motive of all we do shall be a feeling of duty; on the contrary, ninety-nine hundredths of all our actions are done from other motives, and rightly so done, if the rule of duty does not condemn them.”7 So though he issues the moral injunction that we must be impartial when deciding whose happiness to promote (which could mean it is indeterminate as to whose happiness we must promote, or could imply that the combined happiness of many persons should always outweigh one’s personal happiness), he lets us off the hook immediately after by telling us that 99% of our actions are exempt from the injunction because these actions not part of the moral sphere. What seemed a few minutes ago to be a dynamic and insistent moral creed has now been diluted. The reader is left to question: what exactly is my moral duty? Is there a principle which tells me when it is appropriate to focus on myself and when I am obligated to do the opposite? Where does the moral sphere begin and end? Whose happiness am I obligated to promote? Do I meet the utilitarian standard if I live a full and bountiful life that does not include selfless action toward the wider community, or is such a life actually unethical?
An orthodox utilitarian might argue that since it is ethical to maximize that which is most good, and we can only fully maximize happiness if we help as many individuals as possible achieve it, we are ethically bound to adopt an outward-facing, personal utilitarianism, to maximize the greatest happiness for the greatest number. As for our own personal happiness: if we include in our utilitarian calculus the needs of others, our own happiness shrinks down in importance. It is no more than a single datum in the desirability equation, while the happiness of others weighs heavily on the scale. Such an ethic would require us to make daily sacrifices (both short-term and long-term) for the benefit of others. But Mill, who does not wish to upend our personal lives by injecting an unrealistic utilitarian standard into our every waking action, exempts from the utilitarian equation 99% of human action, leaving us free to structure our lives as we wish. As Mill put it, “there is a standard of altruism to which all should be required to come up, and a degree beyond it which is not obligatory, but meritorious.”8 So long as we don’t harm others through our daily actions, it seems we need call forth the standard of (outward-facing) utilitarianism only when we are faced with purely “moral” questions, which is not often.
In this way Mill’s utilitarianism provides us with guidance when we are faced with obvious moral dilemmas (should I cheat on an exam, should I refrain from telling a friend about harmful gossip, should I commit suicide, etc.). His utilitarianism instructs us, in these situations, to ask which option produces the greater net utility for all parties involved, and to pursue that option. In this narrow context, his system offers the individual a practical, outward-facing, moral philosophy. But what about questions about the broader structuring of a moral life: which career should I choose, how should I dedicate my time and resources, how generous should I be, etc.? In the non-stop chaos of daily life, it becomes easy to believe that these are not moral questions at all, but practical or economic questions (“I will choose the career which pays the most; I will dedicate my time to work, family, and hobbies; I will be as generous as possible within the confines of my own self-interest”). If utilitarianism does in fact require us to promote the happiness of others, these questions take on a deep moral significance. After all, every day I spend working at a job which pays me well but does not maximize the general happiness is a day I cannot spend performing a nobler task; every minute I dedicate to water color painting is a minute not spent volunteering at a food bank; every dime I save for myself is a dime I cannot give to a hungry person. Mill does not necessarily want us to see these as moral questions at all; such questions are outside Mill’s sphere of morality altogether. But couldn’t we just as easily argue that an outward-facing utilitarian ethics will require an entire lifetime of selfless action, and that this ethics should rule over the 99% of actions Mill wishes to exempt from the moral sphere?
This indeterminacy as to where my obligation to serve myself ceases and my duty to serve others begins is one of the chief weaknesses in Mill’s ethical philosophy. We can easily find, in Mill, utilitarian justifications for pursuing our own gratification and the happiness of the broader community, without a penetrating analysis of how we should behave when these two goals conflict. Some critics of this utilitarian vagueness have suggested that we could simply justify any action with the claim that it promotes someone’s, anyone’s happiness in some way. D.G. Brown refers to this problem as the “deeper source of indeterminacy in what the Principle of Utility is.”9
Mill makes it clear that it is not only NOT wrong to pursue individual happiness, it is how we should live our lives. Our own happiness will naturally outweigh the happiness of the community 99% of the time, and Mill does not endeavor to develop a moral system which would require us to fight against this innate quality. So perhaps Mill isn’t much of a moralist, but more of a self-help author. He helps us refine our actions so that they aim toward, rather than against, our own happiness. This places his utilitarianism in the realm of personal development more than ethics. Mill wants us to believe that the principle of utility will not only guide us toward our own flourishing lives, but will also somehow motivate us to live virtuously. But for many persons, these are two completely separate (if not contradictory) goals. Since, for the individual, the utilitarian pursuit of happiness is really a theory of individual interest, it cannot act as the referee between our duty to serve others and our naked self-interest. For every statement Mill makes which demands that we focus on the general happiness of the community, he offers a contradictory statement which soothingly urges us not to worry about such lofty ideals, but to focus instead on building happy lives within our own household. Our duty to serve others (which in my opinion is one of the most crucial pieces of a utilitarian ethic) remains wishy-washy and ill-defined. Under Mill’s system, a person could dedicate her entire life to self-gratification, and at the end could claim, so long as she didn’t violate the rights of others, that she met the utilitarian standard. For me, this renders the system practically useless as an ethical system (though it may be worthwhile as a self-help doctrine). So while Mill’s principle of utility does offer us a guide for building a flourishing personal life, for seeking self-actualization, and for achieving a sense of peace and fulfillment after a life well-lived, I struggle to call any of this “ethics”.
Mention John Rawls: Rawls describes utilitarianism through the lens of political philosophy rather than ethics. Quote him, theory of justice page 21. For him the obligation to maximize community happiness belongs to the society not the individual. The rational individual need only satisfy his own needs. This means that utilitarianism as an outward facing system is purely a political and cultural question, and on the individual level its hedonism. If utilitarianism was an individual, outward facing ethics, how could we take seriously the idea that we are free to focus on our happiness so long as others aren’t involved or we don’t affect others (something like that). But every action we take replaces a potential action that could have helped others. There is no way to say that my action doesn’t affect others, since I choose to do this instead of doing that. Thet standard cannot simply be about my personal happiness 99% of the time. His standby makes no sense to me, unless we imagine that there’s no way our self serving actions could ever be taking the place of outward facing selfless actions, and that we have no obligation even to do this sort of utilitarian calculus.
Mill acknowledges that, given the imperfect state of the human species, it is unreasonable to expect everybody to uphold the highest standard of selfless utilitarianism: “In the comparatively early state of human advancement in which we now live, a person cannot indeed feel that entireness of sympathy with all others, which would make any real discordance in the general direction of their conduct in life impossible…”10 So in this light it seems that utilitarianism is a fine standard for some sort of non-human species that has the capacity to feel an “entireness of sympathy with all others,” but it is not appropriate to expect humans to uphold such a standard. But in that case, what is the point of pitching utilitarianism as a system of human ethics to begin with? Are we hoping that humans will evolve into more selfless creatures in the future, at which point we can finally uphold this standard? There is something strangely utopian about this, as if a higher level of human development is right around the corner. At the very least, this lets humans (as they currently exist) off the hook. We can’t be expected to uphold such a rigid standard in our current state, so all that’s left for us to do is to live our lives how we see fit.
Mill pins less hope on human evolution solving this problem, and instead offers up the idea that government, education, and culture can bring about this evolution: “In an improving state of the human mind, the influences are constantly on the increase, which tend to generate in each individual a feeling of unity with all the rest; which, if perfect, would make him never think of, or desire, any beneficial condition for himself, in the benefits of which they are not included. If we now suppose this feeling of unity to be taught as a religion, and the whole force of education, of institutions, and of opinion, directed, as it once was in the case of religion, to make every person grow up from infancy surrounded on all sides both by the profession and the practice of it, I think that no one, who can realise this conception, will feel any misgiving about the sufficiency of the ultimate sanction for the Happiness morality.”11 But this is the purview not of ethics but of political philosophy; if we can just adjust our public institutions in such a way as to inculcate within every human a love for her fellow man, we will finally all be able to achieve the standard. Much like the work of certain Marxists (such as Lenin), this theory places too much stock in the ability of external forces to shape mankind, and ignores the power of our innate human nature, which includes within it not only the desire to serve others but also the desire to serve ourselves. Just as certain socialists might believe that if we structure our institutions a certain way, we can shape humanity into a species of happy socialists, Mill believes that we can convert mankind into a species of happy utilitarians via the same method. Not only is this unconvincing, but it isn’t really ethics. In the light of Mill’s analysis here, either utilitarianism is an ethical system for some higher form of non-human life capable of meeting such a selfless standard, or it is the result of a political/cultural/educational system designed to reshape mankind into such a higher life form. But it is not ethics for the here and now, for the every day person trying to survive in the real world. It is not useful, despite Mill’s express purpose of convincing us that utilitarianism is the most useful and applicable of all the ethical systems.
Maybe I’m being a bit too harsh on Mill. I understand that he doesn’t advocate selfish behavior, nor does he intend to teach that utilitarianism isn’t really meant for humans as they really are, nor does he really consider his ethical system to be not ethics at all but self-help or political philosophy. The real problem here is that his system is incoherent. This incoherence leaves the individual free to do whatever feels is right, and that’s why I don’t love calling this “ethics”. Maybe instead I should say it’s a very weak, watered-down ethics, one that permits a wide range of selfish behavior across an entire lifetime. It’s a system that sanctions the general ethics of the average American: focus strongly on family, but don’t feel obligated to develop a duty of care toward the community, unless doing so brings you pleasure. That ethical standard may be easy to meet, but it’s wreaking havoc on our planet, and (dare I say) might actually be unethical.
I want more from utilitarian ethics. I want a standard that is difficult to reach. I know the drawback: fewer people will reach it. But if ethics were as easy as “do whatever good you feel like doing in whatever direction feels right”, then it wouldn’t really be a field of study, it wouldn’t be something philosophers puzzle over. The art of loving oneself, loving one’s family and spouse, and cultivating hobbies is all important and worthwhile, don’t get me wrong. I just want more from an ethical system.
Related article:
Do I violate the utilitarian standard by loving my children?