In the last chapter I
stated the first part of an ethical theory, which I chose out for consideration,
not because I agreed with it, but because it seemed to me to bring out
particularly clearly the distinction between some of the most fundamental
subjects of ethical discussion. This first part consisted in asserting that
there is a certain characteristic which belongs to absolutely
all voluntary actions which are right, and
only to those which are right; another closely allied
characteristic which belongs to all voluntary actions which
ought to be done or are duties, and only to these; a third
characteristic which belongs to all voluntary actions which
are wrong, ought not to be done, or which it is our duty not to do, and
only to those voluntary actions of which these things are
true. And when the theory makes these assertions it means the words
all
and only
to be understood quite strictly. That
is to say, it means its propositions to apply to absolutely every voluntary
action, which ever has been done or ever will be done, no matter who did it, or
when it was or will be done; and not only to those which actually have been or
will be done, but also to shoe which have been or will be
possible, in a certain definite sense.(Ch. 2 ¶ 1)
The sense in which it means its propositions to apply to
possible, as well as actual, voluntary actions, is, it must
be remembered, only if we agree to give the name possible
to all
those actions which an agent could have done,
if he had chosen, and to those which, in the future, any
agent will be able to do, if he were to choose to do them.
Possible actions, in this sense, form a perfectly definite group; and we do, as
a matter of fact, often make judgments as to whether they would have been or
would be right, and as to whether they ought to have been done in the past, or
ought to be done in the future. We say, So-and-so ought to have done this
on that occasion,
or It would have been perfectly right for him
to have done this,
although as a matter of fact, he did not do it; or we
say, You ought to do this,
or It will be quite right for
you to do this,
although it subsequently turns out, that the action in
question is one which you do not actually perform. Our theory says, then, with
regard to all actions, which were in this sense possible in the past, that they
would have been right, if and only if they
would have produced a maximum of pleasure; just as it says
that all actual past voluntary actions were right, if and
only if they did produce a maximum of pleasure. And
similarly, with regard to all voluntary actions which will be possible in the
future, it says that they will be right, if and only if they
would produce a maximum of pleasure; just as it says with
regard to all that will actually be done, that they will be right, if and only
if they do produce a maximum of pleasure.(Ch. 2 ¶ 2)
Our theory does, then, even in its first part, deal, in a sense, with possible actions, as well as actual ones. It professes to tell us, not only which among actual past voluntary actions were right, but also which among those which were possible would have been right if they had been done; and not only which among the voluntary actions which actually will be done in the future, will be right, but also which among those which will be possible, would be right, if they were to be done. And in doing this, it does, of course, give us a criterion, or test, or standard, by means of which we could, theoretically at least, discover with regard to absolutely every voluntary action, whichever either has been or will be either actual or possible, whether it was or will be right or not. If we want to discover with regard to a voluntary action which was actually done or was possible in the past, whether it was right or would have been right, we have only to ask: Could the agent, on the occasion in question, have done anything else instead, which would have produced more pleasure? If he could, then the action in question was or would have been wrong; if he could not, then it was or would have been right. And similarly, if we want to discover with regard to an action, which we are contemplating in the future, whether it would be right for us to do it, we have only to ask: Could I do anything else instead which would produce more pleasure? If I could, it will be wrong to do the action; if I could not, it will be right. Our theory does then, even in its first part, profess to give us an absolutely universal criterion of right and wrong; and similarly also an absolutely universal criterion of what ought or ought not to be done.(Ch. 2 ¶ 3)
But though it does this, there is something else which it does not do. It only asserts, in this first part, that the producing of a maximum of pleasure is a characteristic, which did and will belong, as a matter of fact, to all right voluntary actions (actual or possible), and only to right ones; it does not, in its first part, go on to assert that it is because they possess this characteristic that such actions are right. This second assertion is the first which it goes on to make in this second part; and everybody can see, I think, that there is an important difference between the two assertions.(Ch. 2 ¶ 4)
Many people might be inclined to admit that, whenever a man acts wrongly, his action always does, on the whole, result in greater unhappiness than would have ensued if he had acted differently; and that when he acts rightly this result never ensues: that, on the contrary, right action always does in the end bring about at least as much happiness, on the whole, as the agent could possibly have brought about by any other action which was in his power. The proposition that wrong action always does, and (considering how the Universe is constituted) always would, in the long-run, lead to less pleasure than the agent could have brought about by acting differently, and that right action never does and never would have this effect, is a proposition which a great many people might be inclined to accept; and this is all which, in its first part, our theory asserts. But many of those who would be inclined to assent to this proposition, would feel great hesitation in going on to assert that this is why actions are right or wrong respectively. There seems to be a very important difference between the two positions. We may hold, for instance, that an act of murder, whenever it is wrong, always does produce greater unhappiness than would have followed if the agent had chosen instead some one of the other alternatives, which he could have carried out, if he had so chosen; and we may hold that this is true of all other wrong actions, actual or possible, and never of any right ones: but it seems a very different thing to hold that murder and all other wrong actions are wrong, when they are wrong, because they have this result—because they produce less than the possible maximum of pleasure. We may hold, that is to say, that the fact that it does produce or would produce less than a maximum of pleasure is absolutely always a sign that it is right; but this does not seem to commit us to the very different proposition that these results, besides being signs of right and wrong, are also reasons why actions are right when they are right, and wrong when they are wrong. Everybody can see, I think, that the distinction is important; although I think it is often overlooked in ethical discussions. And it is precisely this distinction which separates what I have called the first part of our theory, from the first of the assertions which it goes on to make in its second part. In its first part, it only asserts that the producing or not producing a maximum of pleasure are, absolutely universally, signs of right and wrong in voluntary actions; in its second part it goes on to assert that it is because they produce these results that voluntary actions are right when they are right, and wrong when they are wrong.(Ch. 2 ¶ 5)
There is, then, plainly some important difference between the assertion, which our theory made in its first part, to the effect that all right voluntary actions, and only those which are right, do, in fact, produce a maximum of pleasure, and the assertion, which it now goes on to make, that this is why they are right. And if we ask why the difference is important, the answer is, so far as I can see, as follows. Namely, if we say that actions are right, because they produce a maximum of pleasure, we imply that, provided they produced this result, they would be right, no matter what other effects they might produce as well. We imply, in short, that their rightness does not depend at all upon their other effects, but only on the quantity of pleasure that they produce. And this is a very different thing from merely saying that the producing a maximum of pleasure is always, as a matter of fact, a sign of rightness. It is quite obvious, that, in the Universe as it is actually constituted, pleasure and pain are by no means the only results of any of our actions: they all produce immense numbers of other results as well. And so long as we merely assert that the producing a maximum of pleasure is a sign of rightness, we leave open the possibility that it is so only because this result does always, as a matter of fact, happen to coincide with the production of other results; but that it is partly upon these other results that the rightness of the action depends. But so soon as we assert that actions are right, because they produce a maximum of pleasure, we cut away this possibility; we assert that actions which produced such a maximum, would be right, even if they did not produce any of the other effects, which, as a matter of fact, they always do produce. And this, I think, is the chief reason why many persons who would be inclined to assent to the first proposition, would hesitate to assent to the second.(Ch. 2 ¶ 6)
It is, for instance, commonly held that some pleasures are higher or better than others, even though they may not be more pleasant; and that where we have a choice between procuring for ourselves or others a higher or lower pleasure, it is generally right to prefer the former, even though it may perhaps be less pleasant. And, of course, even those who hold that actions are only right because of the quantity of pleasure they produce, and not at all because of the quality of these pleasures, might quite consistently hold that it is as a matter of fact generally right to prefer higher pleasures to lower ones, even though they may be less pleasant. They might hold that this is the case, on the ground that higher pleasures, even when less pleasant in themselves, do, if we take into account all their further effects, tend to produce more pleasure on the whole than lower ones. There is a good deal to be said for the view that this does actually happen, as the Universe is actually constituted; and that hence an action which causes a higher pleasure to be enjoyed instead of a lower one, will in general cause more pleasure in its total effects, though it may cause less in its immediate effects. And this is why those who hold that higher pleasures are in general to be preferred to lower ones, may nevertheless admit that mere quantity of pleasure is always, in fact, a correct sign or criterion of the rightness of an action.(Ch. 2 ¶ 7)
But those who hold that actions are only right, because of the quantity of pleasure they produce, must hold also that, if higher pleasures did not, in their total effects, produce more pleasure than lower ones, then there would be no reason whatever for preferring them, provided they were not themselves more pleasant. If the sole effect of one action were to be the enjoyment of a certain amount of the most bestial or idiotic pleasure, and the sole effect of another were to be the enjoyment of a much more refined one, then they must hold that there would be no reason for preferring the latter to the former, provided only that the mere quantity of pleasure enjoyed in each case were the same. And if the bestial pleasure were ever so slightly more pleasant than the other, then they must say it would be our positive duty to do the action which would bring it about rather than the other. This is a conclusion which does follow from the assertion that actions are right because they produce a maximum of pleasure, and which does not follow from the mere assertion that producing a maximum of pleasure is always, in fact, a sign of rightness. And it is for this, and similar reasons, that it is important to distinguish the two propositions.(Ch. 2 ¶ 8)
To many persons it may seem clear that it would be our duty to prefer some pleasures to others, even if they did not entail a greater quantity of pleasure; and hence that though actions which produce a maximum of pleasure are perhaps, in fact, always right, they are not right because of this, but only because the producing of this result does in fact happen to coincide with the producing of other results. They would say that though perhaps, in fact, actual cases never occur in which it is or would be wrong to do an action, which produces a maximum of pleasure, it is easy to imagine cases in which it would be wrong. If, for instance, we had to choose between creating a Universe, in which all the inhabitants were capable only of the lowest sensual pleasures, and another in which they were capable of the highest intellectual and aesthetic ones, it would, they would say, plainly be our duty to create the latter rather than the former, even though the mere quantity of pleasure enjoyed in it were rather less than in the former, and still more so if the quantities were equal. Or, to put it shortly, they would say that a world of men is preferable to a world of pigs, even though the pigs might enjoy as much or more pleasure than a world of men. And this is what our theory goes on to deny, when it says that voluntary actions are right, because they produce a maximum of pleasure. It implies, by saying this, that actions which produced a maximum of pleasure would always be right, no matter what their effects, in other respects, might be. And hence that it would be right to create a world in which there was no intelligence and none of the higher emotions, rather than one in which these were present in the highest degree, provided only that the mere quantity of pleasure enjoyed in the former were ever so little greater than that enjoyed in the latter.(Ch. 2 ¶ 9)
Our theory asserts, then, in its second part, that voluntary actions are right when they are right, because they produce a maximum of pleasure; and in asserting this it takes a great step beyond what is asserted in its first part, since it now implies that an action which produced a maximum of pleasure always would be right, no matter how its results, in other respects, might compare with those of the other possible alternatives.(Ch. 2 ¶ 10)
But it might be held that, even so, it does not imply that this would be so absolutely unconditionally. It might be held that though, in the Universe as actually constituted, actions are right because they produce a maximum of pleasure, and hence their rightness does not at all depend upon their other effects, yet this is only so for some such reason as that, in this Universe, all conscious beings do actually happen to desire pleasure; but that, if we could imagine a Universe, in which pleasure was not desired, then, in such a Universe, actions would not be right because they produced a maximum of pleasure; and hence that we cannot lay it down absolutely unconditionally that in all conceivable Universes any voluntary action would be right whenever and only when it produced a maximum of pleasure. For some such reason as this, it might be held that we must distinguish between the mere assertion that voluntary actions are right, when they are right, because they produce a maximum of pleasure, and the further assertion that this would be so in all conceivable circumstances and in any conceivable Universe. Those who assert the former are by no means necessarily bound to assert the latter also. To assert the latter is to take a still further step.(Ch. 2 ¶ 11)
But the theory I wish to state does, in fact, take this further step. It asserts not only that, in the Universe as it is, voluntary actions are right because they produce a maximum of pleasure, but also that this would be so under any conceivable circumstances: that if any conceivable being, in any conceivable Universe, were faced with a choice between an action which would cause more pleasure and one which would cause less, it would always be his duty to choose the former rather than the latter, no matter what the respects might be in which his Universe differed from ours. It may, at first sight, seem unduly bold to assert that any ethical truth can be absolutely unconditional in this sense. But many philosophers have held that some fundamental ethical principles certainly are thus unconditional. And a little reflection will suffice to show that the view that they may be so is at all events not absurd. We have many instances of other truths, which seem quite plainly to be of this nature. It seems quite clear, for instance, that it is not only true that twice two do make four, in the Universe as it actually is, but that they necessarily would make four, in any conceivable Universe, no matter how much it might differ from this one in other respects. And our theory is only asserting that the connection which it believes to hold between rightness and the production of a maximum of pleasure is, in this respect, similar to the connection asserted to hold between the number two and the number four, when we say that twice two are four. It asserts that, if any being whatever, in any circumstances whatever, had to choose between two actions, on of which would produce more pleasure than the other, it always would be his duty to choose the former rather than the latter: that this is absolutely unconditionally true. This assertion obviously goes very much further, both than the assertion which it made in its first part, to the effect that the producing a maximum of pleasure is a sign of rightness in the case of all voluntary actions, that ever have been or will be actual or possible, and also than the assertion, that in the Universe, as it is actually constituted, actions are right, when they are right, because they produce a maximum of pleasure. But bold as the assertion may seem, it is, at all events, not impossible that we should know it to be true.(Ch. 2 ¶ 12)
Our theory asserts, therefore, in its second part: That, if we had to choose between two actions, one of which would have as its sole or total effects, an effect or set of effects, which we may call A, while the other would have as its sole or total effect, an effect or set of effects, which we may call B, then, if A contained more pleasure than B, it would always be our duty to choose the action which caused A rather than that which caused B. This, it asserts, would be absolutely always true, no matter what A and B might be like in other respects. And to assert this is (it now goes on to say) equivalent to asserting that any effect or set of effects which contains more pleasure is always intrinsically better than one which contains less.(Ch. 2 ¶ 13)
By calling one effect or set of effects intrinsically better than another it means that it is better in itself, quite apart from any accompaniments or further effects which it may have. That is to say: To assert of any one thing, A, that it is intrinsically better than another, B, is to assert that if A existed quite alone, without any accompaniments, or effects whatever—if, in short, A constituted the whole Universe, it would be better that such a Universe should exist, than that a Universe which consisted solely of B should exist instead. In order to discover whether any one thing is intrinsically better than another, we have always thus to consider whether it would be better that the one should exist quite alone than that the other should exist quite alone. No one thing or set of things, A, ever can be intrinsically better than another, B, unless it would be better that should exist quite alone than that B should exist quite alone. Our theory asserts, therefore, that, wherever it is true that it would be our duty to choose A rather than B, if A and B were to be the sole effects of a pair of actions between which we had to choose, there it is always also true that it would be better that A should exist quite alone than that B should exist quite alone. And it asserts also, conversely, that wherever it is true that any one thing or set of things, A, is intrinsically better than another, B, there it would always also be our duty to choose an action of which A would be the sole effect rather than one of which B would be the sole effect, if we had to choose between them. But since, as we have seen, it holds that it never could be our duty to choose one action rather than another, unless the total effects of the one contained more pleasure than that of the other, it follows that, according to it, no effect or set of effects, A, can possibly be intrinsically better than another, B, unless it contains more pleasure. It holds, therefore, not only that any one effect or set of effects, which contains more pleasure, is always intrinsically better than one which contains less, but also that no effect or set of effects can be intrinsically better than another unless it contains more pleasure.(Ch. 2 ¶ 14)
It is plain, then, that this theory assigns a quite unique
position to pleasure and pain in two respects; or possibly only in one, since it
is just possible that the two propositions which it makes about them are not
merely equivalent, but absolutely identical—that is to say, are merely
different ways of expressing exactly the same idea. The two propositions are
these. (1) That if any one had to choose between two actions, one of which
would, in its total effects, cause more pleasure than the other, it always would
be his duty to choose the former; and that it never could be any one’s
duty to choose on action rather than another, unless its total effects contained
more pleasure. (2) That any Universe, which contains more pleasure, is always
intrinsically better than one which contains less; and that nothing can be
intrinsically better than anything else, unless it contains more pleasure. It
does seem to be just possible that these two propositions are merely two
different ways of expressing exactly the same idea. The question whether they
are so or not simply depends upon the question whether, when we say, It
would be better that A should exist quite alone than that
B should exist quite alone,
we are or are not saying
exactly the same thing as when we say, Supposing we had to choose between
an action of which A would be the sole effect, and one of
which B would be the sole effect, it would be our duty to
choose the former rather than the latter.
And it certainly does seem, at
first sight, as if the two propositions were not identical; as if we should not
be saying exactly the same thing in asserting the one, as in asserting the
other. But, even if they are not identical, our theory asserts that they are
certainly equivalent: that, whenever the one is true, the
other is certainly also true. And, if they are not identical, this assertion of
equivalence amounts to the very important proposition that: An action is right,
only if no action, which the agent could have done instead, would have had
intrinsically better results; while an action is wrong, only if the agent
could have done some other action instead whose total
results would have been intrinsically better. It certainly seems as if this
proposition were not a mere tautology. And, if so, then we must admit that our
theory assigns a unique position to pleasure and pain in two respects, and not
in one only. It asserts, first of all, that they have a unique relationship to
right and wrong; and secondly, that they have a unique relation to
intrinsic value.(Ch. 2 ¶ 15)
Our theory asserts, then, that any whole, which contains a
greater amount of pleasure, is always intrinsically better than one which
contains a smaller amount, no matter what the two may be like in other respects;
and that no whole can be intrinsically better than another unless it contains
more pleasure. But it must be remembered that throughout this discussion, we
have, for the sake of convenience, been using the phrase contains more
pleasure
in an inaccurate sense. I explained that I should say of one
whole, A, that it contained more pleasure than another,
B, whenever A and B
were related to one another in either of the five following ways: namely (1)
when A and B both contain an excess of
pleasure over pain, but A contains a greater excess than
B; (2) when A contains an excess of
pleasure over pain, while B contains no excess either of
pleasure over pain or of pain over pleasure; (3) when A
contains an excess of pleasure over pain, while B contains an
excess of pain over pleasure; (4) when A contains no excess
either of pleasure over pain or of pain over pleasure, while
B does contain an excess of pain over pleasure; and (5) when
both A and B contain an excess of pain
over pleasure, but A contains a smaller excess than
B. Whenever in stating this theory, I have spoken of one
whole, or effect, or set of effects, A, as containing more
pleasure than another, B, I have always meant merely that
A was related to B in one or
other of these five ways. And so here, when our theory says that
every whole which contains a greater amount pleasure is intrinsically better
than one which contains less, and that nothing can be intrinsically better than
anything else unless it contains more pleasure, this must be understood to mean
that any whole, A, which stands to another,
B, in any one of these five relations,
is always intrinsically better than B, and that no one thing
can be intrinsically better than another, unless it stands to it in
one or other of these five relations. And it becomes
important to remember this, when we go on to take account of another
fact.(Ch. 2 ¶ 16)
It is plain that when we talk of one thing being
better
than another we may mean any one of five different things.
We may mean either (1) that while both are positively good, the first is better;
or (2) that while the first is positively good, the second is neither good nor
bad, but indifferent; or (3) that while the first is positively good, the second
is positively bad; or (4) that while the first is indifferent, the second is
positively bad; or (5) that while both are positively bad, the first is less bad
than the second. We should, in common life, say that one thing was
better
than another, whenever it stood to that other in any one
of these five relations. Or, in other words, we hold that among things which
stand to one another in the relation of better and worse, some are positively
good, others positively bad, and others neither good nor bad, but indifferent.
And our theory holds that this is, in fact, the case, with things which have a
place in the scale of intrinsic value: some of them are
intrinsically good, others intrinsically bad, and others indifferent. And it
would say that a whole is intrinsically good, whenever and only when it contains
an excess of pleasure over pain; intrinsically bad, whenever and only when it
contains an excess of pain over pleasure; and intrinsically indifferent,
whenever and only when it contains neither.(Ch. 2 ¶ 17)
In addition, therefore, to laying down precise rules as to
what things are intrinsically better or
worse than others, our theory also lays down equally
precise ones as to what things are intrinsically good and
bad and indifferent. By saying that a
thing is intrinsically good it means that it would be a good thing that the
thing in question should exist, even if it existed quite
alone, without any further accompaniments or effects whatever. By
saying that it is intrinsically bad, it means that it would be a bad thing or an
evil that it should exist, even if it existed quite alone, without any further
accompaniments or effects whatever. And by saying that it is intrinsically
indifferent, it means that, if it existed quite alone, its
existence would be neither a good nor an evil in any degree whatever. And just
as the conceptions intrinsically better
and intrinsically
worse
are connected in a perfectly precise manner with the conceptions
right
and wrong,
so, it maintains, are these other
conceptions also. To say of anything, A, that it is
intrinsically good,
is equivalent to saying that, if we had to
choose between an action of which A would be the sole or
total effect, and an action, which would have absolutely no effects at all, it
would always be our duty to choose the former, and wrong to choose the latter.
And similarly to say of anything, A, that it is
intrinsically bad,
is equivalent to saying that, if we had to
choose between an action of which A would be the sole effect,
and an action which would have absolutely no effects at all, it would always be
our duty to choose the latter and wrong to choose the former. And finally, to
say of anything, A, that it is intrinsically
indifferent,
is equivalent to saying that, if we had to choose between
an action, of which A would be the sole effect, and an action
which would have absolutely no effects at all, it would not matter which we
chose: either choice would be equally right.(Ch. 2 ¶ 18)
To sum up, then, we may say that, in its second part, our theory lays down three principles. It asserts (1) that anything whatever, whether it be a single effect, or a whole set of effects, or a whole Universe, is intrinsically good, whenever and only when it either is or contains an excess of pleasure over pain; that anything whatever is intrinsically bad, whenever and only when it either is or contains an excess of pain over pleasure; and that all other things, no matter what their nature may be, are intrinsically indifferent. It asserts (2) that any one thing, whether it be a single effect, or a whole set of effects, or a whole Universe, is intrinsically better than another, whenever and only when the two are related to one another in one or other of the five following ways: namely, when either (a) while both are intrinsically good, the second is not so good as the first; or (b) while the first is intrinsically good, the second is intrinsically indifferent; or (c) while the first is intrinsically good, the second is intrinsically bad; or (d) while the first is intrinsically indifferent, the second is intrinsically bad; or (e) while both are intrinsically bad, the first is not so bad as the second. And it asserts (3) that, if we had to choose between two actions one of which would have intrinsically better total effects than the other, it always would be our duty to choose the former, and wrong to choose the latter; and that no action ever can be right if we could have done anything else instead which would have had intrinsically better total effects, nor wrong, unless we could have done something else instead which would have had intrinsically better total effects. From these three principles taken together, the whole theory follows. And whether it be true or false, it is, I think, at least a perfectly clear and intelligible theory. Whether it is or is not of any practical importance is, indeed, another question. But, even if it were of none whatever, it certainly lays down propositions of so fundamental and so far-reaching a character, that it seems worth while to consider whether they are true or false. There remain, I think, only two points which should be noticed with regard to it, before we go on to consider the principal objections which may be urged against it.(Ch. 2 ¶ 19)
It should be noticed, first, that, though this theory
asserts that nothing is intrinsically good, unless it is or
contains an excess of pleasure over pain, it is very far from asserting that
nothing is good, unless it fulfils this condition. By
saying that a thing is intrinsically good, it means, as has
been explained, that the existence of the thing in question
would be a good, even if it existed quite alone, without
any accompaniments or effects whatever; and it is quite plain that when we call
things good
we by no means always mean this: we by no means
always mean that they would be good, even if they existed
quite alone. Very often, for instance, when we say that a thing is
good,
we mean that it is good because of its
effects; and we should not for a moment maintain that it
would be good, even if it had no effects at all. We are,
for instance, familiar with the idea that it is sometimes a good thing for
people to suffer pain; and yet we should be very loth to maintain that in all
such cases their suffering would be a good thing, even if
nothing were gained by it—if it had no further effects. We do, in general,
maintain that suffering is good, only where and
because it has further good effects. And similarly with
many other things. Many things, therefore, which are not
intrinsically
good, may nevertheless be good
in
some one or other of the senses in which we use that highly ambiguous word. And
hence our theory can and would quite consistently maintain that, while nothing
is intrinsically good except pleasure or wholes which
contain pleasure, many other things really are good
; and
similarly that, while nothing is intrinsically bad except
pain or wholes which contain it, yet many other things are really
bad.
It would, for instance, maintain that it is
always a good thing to act rightly, and a bad thing to act
wrongly; although it would say at the same time that, since actions, strictly
speaking, do not contain either pleasure or pain, but are
only accompanied by or causes of them, a right action is
never intrinsically good, nor a wrong
one intrinsically bad. And similarly it would maintain that
it is perfectly true that some men are good,
and others
bad,
and some better than others; although no man can strictly be
said to contain either pleasure or pain, and hence none can
be either intriniscally good or intrinsically bad or intrinsically better than
any other. It would even maintain (and this also it can do quite consistently)
that events which are intrinsically good are nevertheless
very often bad, and intrinsically bad ones good. It would, for instance, say
that it is often a very bad thing for a man to enjoy a particular pleasure on a
particular occasion, although the event, which consists in his enjoying it, may
be intrinsically good, since it contains an excess of pleasure over pain. It may
often be a very bad thing that such an event should happen, because it
causes the man himself or other beings to have less
pleasure or more pain in the future, than they would otherwise have had. And for
similar reasons it may often be a very good thing that an intrinsically bad
event should happen.(Ch. 2 ¶ 20)
It is important to remember all this, because otherwise the theory may appear much more paradoxical than it really is. It may, for instance, appear, at first sight, as if it denied all value to anything except pleasure and wholes which contain it—a view which would be extremely paradoxical if it were held. But it does not do this. It does not deny all value to other things, but only all intrinsic value—a very different thing. It only says that none of them would have any value if they existed quite alone. But, of course, as a matter of fact, none of them do exist quite alone, and hence it may quite consistently allow that, as it is, many of them do have very great value. Concerning kinds of value, other than intrinsic value, it does not profess to lay down any general rules at all. And its reason for confining itself to intrinsic value is because it holds that this and this alone is related to right and wrong in the perfectly definite manner explained above. Whenever an action is right, it is right only if and because the total effects of no action, which the agent could have done instead, would have had more intrinsic value; and whenever an action is wrong, it is wrong only if and because the total effects of some other action, which the agent could have done instead, would have had more intrinsic value. This proposition, which is true of intrinsic value, is not, it holds, true of value of any other kind.(Ch. 2 ¶ 21)
And a second point which should be noticed about this
theory is the following. It is often represented as asserting that pleasure is
the only thing which is ultimately good or desirable, and
pain the only thing which is ultimately bad or undesirable;
or as asserting that pleasure is the only thing which is good for its
own sake, and pain the only thing which is bad for its own
sake. And there is, I think, a sense in which it does assert this.
But these expressions are not commonly carefully defined; and it is worth
noticing that, if our theory does assert these propositions, the expressions
ultimately good
or good for
its own sake
must be understood in a different sense from
that which has been assigned above to the expression
intrinsically good.
We must not take
ultimately good
or good for
its own sake
to be synonyms for
intrinsically good.
For our theory most
emphatically does not assert that pleasure is the only
thing intrinsically good, and pain the only thing
intrinsically evil. On the contrary, it asserts that any
whole which contains an excess of pleasure over pain is
intrinsically good, no matter how much else it may contain
besides; and similarly that any whole which contains an excess of pain over
pleasure is intrinsically bad. This distinction between the
conception expressed by ultimately good
or
good for its own sake,
on the one hand, and
that expressed by intrinsically good,
on the
other, is not commonly made; and yet obviously we must make it, if we are to say
that our theory does assert that pleasure is the only
ultimate good, and pain the only
ultimate evil. The two conceptions, if used in this way,
have one important point in common, namely, that both of them will only apply to
things whose existence would be good, even if they existed
quite alone. Whether we assert that a thing is ultimately good
or
good for its own sake
or intrinsically good,
we
are always asserting that it would be good, even if it existed quite alone. But
the two conceptions differ in respect of the fact that, whereas a whole which is
intrinsically good
may contain parts which are
not intrinsically good, i.e. would not be good, if they
existed quite alone; anything which is ultimately good
or
good for its own sake
can contain no such parts. This, I think,
is the meaning which we must assign to the expressions ultimately
good
or good for its own sake,
if we are to say that our
theory asserts pleasure to be the only thing
ultimately good
or good for its own sake.
We may,
in short, divide intrinsically good things into two classes: namely (1) those
which, while as wholes they are intrinsically good, nevertheless contain some
parts which are not intrinsically good; and (2) those, which either have no
parts at all, or, if they have any, have none but what are themselves
intrinsically good. And we may thus, if we please, confine the terms
ultimately good
or good for their own sakes
to
things which belong to the second of these two classes. We may, of course, make
a precisely similar distinction between two classes of intrinsically bad things.
And it is only if we do this that our theory can be truly said to assert that
nothing is ultimately good
or good for its own
sake,
except pleasure; and nothing ultimately bad
or
bad for its own sake,
except pain.(Ch. 2 ¶ 22)
Such is the ethical theory which I have chosen to state, because it seems to me particularly simple, and hence to bring out particularly clearly some of the main questions which have formed the subject of ethical discussion.(Ch. 2 ¶ 23)
What is specially important is to distinguish the question, which it professes to answer in its first part, from the much more radical questions, which it professes to answer in its second. In its first part, it only professes to answer the question: What characteristic is there which does actually, as a matter of fact, belong to all right voluntary actions, which ever have been or will be done in this world? While, in its second part, it professes to answer the much more fundamental question: What characteristic is there which would belong to absolutely any voluntary action, which was right, in any conceivable Universe, and under any conceivable circumstances? These two questions are obviously extremely different, and by the theory I have stated I mean a theory which does profess to give an answer to both.(Ch. 2 ¶ 24)
Whether this thoery has ever been held in exactly the form
in which I have stated it, I should not like to say. But many people have
certainly held something very like it; and it seems to be what is
often meant by the familiar name
Utilitarianism,
which is the reason why I have chosen this name
as the title of these two chapters. It must not, however, be assumed that
anybody who talks about Utilitarianism
always means precisely this theory in all its details. On
the contrary, many even of those who call themselves Utilitarians would object
to some of its most fundamental propositions. One of the difficulties which
occurs in ethical discussions is that no single name, which has ever been
proposed as the name of an ethical theory, has any absolutely fixed
significance. On the contrary, every name may be, and often is, used as a name
for several different theories, which may differ from one another in very
important respects. Hence, whenever anybody uses such a name, you can never
trust to the name alone, but must always look carefully to see exactly what he
means by it. For this reason I do not propose, in what follows, to give any name
at all to this theory which I have stated, but will refer to it simply as the
theory stated in these first two chapters.(Ch. 2 ¶ 25)
Ethics was written by G. E. Moore, and published in in 1912. It is now available in the Public Domain.