Mill's Utilitarianism Part 2: Mill's Argument for the Ultimate Sanction (What Can Compel Us to Consider General Happiness when We Act? )

Yo check it.  Weez about to learn about why (Mill thinks) we should be compelled to adopt and adhere to utilitarianism as the ultimate moral standard.  That is, why does a utilitarian ethic have binding force?

Overview and RecapOk, so...like...'member utilitarianism?  It's the idear that the moral goodness of an action is proportional to the total amount of happiness (or pleasure) it produces (for the agent as well as--and especially--other people).  So, an action that produces more pleasure/happiness for 5 people is more gooder than an action that produces pleasure/happiness for only 1.  Simple enough so far, right?  (We'll table some of the problems to get to the point of this post.)

Next step--Definition:  Happiness and pleasure are one and the same for utilitarians so I'll just say happiness to mean both; happiness also includes avoidance of pain.  But Mill makes a distinction between types of pleasure: higher (intellectual) and lower (sensual).  We know some pleasures to have more worth than others because the majority of peeps who experience and have the capacity for both will choose the higher over the lower.

Ok, supposing we accept everything so far, there's still a prollem--why should I be motivated to obey this standard of morality?  What's stopping me from being a selfish egotistical misanthrope and stepping on others to feed my own ravenous appetite for pleasure?  That's the problem Mill tackles in this section...

Of the Ultimate Sanction of the Principle of Utility
People Will Act on Utilitarian Principles Because They Already Are UtilitariansThe general gist of Mill's argument for why we should be motivated to obey the utilitarian maxim and whence it derives its motivating force is that we are already utilitarians and this is the natural moral position!  Of course he has some more specific arguments to support this assertion which we will look at...

Mill sets things up for his we're-utilitarian-even-if-we-don't-know-it view like this:  Many people recognize a moral duty not to murder, steal, and deceive yet might question the utilitarian maxim to act according to what will promote the general happiness.  How do we explain the feeling of moral duty toward abstaining from these specific acts while there is no corresponding feeling to act on the utilitarian maxim?

Mill suggests that we have accepted the specific consequences of utilitarianism but not the general maxim.  But this failure is simply a consequence of poor education and lack of influences which form moral character.  If people got their learn on, the 1st principle of utilitarianism "shall be as deeply rooted in our character, and to our own consciousness as completely a part of our nature, as the horror of crime is in an ordinarily well-bought up young person."

Basically, people who accept the consequences of the utilitarian ethic but not its principle do so because it falls outside of their particular custom and education--and so they question it.  But this is nothin' a little learnin' can't fix.

The obvious problem with this argument is that it can be made by any ethical system.  Hey, if you raise everyone as Kantians and teach them to see the moral truth in Kantianism, chances are, the majority will think the categorical imperative (one should only act according to principles that you'd want everyone to act on) is the one true moral principle.

Actually, if you ax most 'mericans (Republicans, anyway) they'll probably advocate an egoist morality; that is, since people are rational and self-interested, actions that are in line with the principle of rational self-interest are 'right'--provided another's rights aren't infringed upon.   If only they knew they are really just misguided utilitarians...

Anyhow, what really jumps out at me is how Aristotelian Mill sounds wilt all this moral education stuff.  Aristotle basically said (super condensed version), an action is good if it is by a virtuous person and a virtuous person is one who has had a correct moral education.  In a way, Mills just adding on that someone with the correct moral education would act according to the utilitarian principle.

Sanctions
Recall that the whole point of this section of the utilitarian argument is to defend utilitarianism from critics who charge that utilitarianism can't work because there's no reason for people to go along with it.  In this context, Mill discusses external and internal sanctions that may or may not compel someone to act according to the utilitarian ethic.  Regarding external sanctions he says they are the same for any possible moral system: desire to be praised and avoid punishment (earthly or cosmic).  Lets move on to internal sanctions...

Internal SanctionsSo, what is it that might compel us to consider our action's effect on the general good above all other considerations?   What is it that makes us feel as though we have a duty to consider the general good? It is "a feeling in the mind; a pain, more or less intense, attendant on violation of duty, which in properly cultivated moral natures rises, in the more serious cases, into shrinking from its impossibility."  In other words, our conscience.

Lets call it a special feeling; lets call the feeling of moral duty "the essence of conscience".  There we have it--the thing that compels us to act according to utilitarian ethic is our conscience.  Admittedly, we rarely feel pure duty because we often have competing feelings, interests, and social conditioning running around in our heads that distort this sense of moral duty.

But how does pure conscience bind us to a particular course of action (i.e., the 1st principle of utilitarianism)?  It binds us because it is "a mass of feeling which must be broken through in order to do what violates our standard of right, and which if we do nevertheless violate that standard, will probably have to be encountered afterwards in the form of remorse."  In other words, our conscience binds us because we cannot escape it.

The obvious objection is that there are people who don't have strong feelings of conscience or are able to ignore their conscience, so how can we say that utilitarianism binds people to action?  Mill's (reoccurring) reply is that this is a problem for any ethical system--it is not particular to utilitarianism.  Such people can only be compelled to act through external sanctions regardless of what moral system you support.   So, I guess this is meant to diffuse the argument that utilitarian ethics should be rejected because it can't bind people to follow it, but neither is it a point in favour of utilitarianism.

On the Origins of the Feeling of Duty
Mill begins that the origins of the feelings of duty, be they innate or acquired, are unimportant because the net result is the same.  Supposing they are innate (here he's implying Kantian ethics), then the feeling of duty would attach to moral principles.  But there is no argument to suggest that the innate feeling of duty wouldn't attach to the utilitarian principle rather then, lets say, the categorical imperative.  Furthermore, if morality itself is intuitive, it seems that accounting for the effect of our actions on the happiness of others is "intuitively obligatory".  So, even if our sense of moral duty is innate (which Mill denies) this is no objection to utilitarianism.

Suppose instead, as Mill does, that moral feelings are learned rather than innate.  They are something we (hopefully) develop over time with experience and education just as we do with things like the ability to reason, to use language, to play an instrument... Just like any capacity we have, our moral feelings can develop to varying degrees, both positively and negatively.  So, even if our moral conscience is acquired rather than innate, there is no reason to suppose it couldn't develop to follow utilitarian principles (amongst all the other possibilities).

Then Why Utilitarianism? Finally we learn why our conscience will be receptive to utilitarian principles rather than others.  Given that, regardless of the origins of our sense of duty and moral conscience, what arguments are there to suppose the utilitarian ethics is the one true standard?  So far we've said that human can be conditioned to attach a sense of moral duty to just about moral principle.

Ah! Ha!  But you see, the utilitarian principle is special! The is a "powerful natural basis of sentiment for utilitarian morality".  You see, once the general happiness is recognized as the ethical standard it will be the basis of this powerful natural sentiment.  And that natural oh-so-good feeling is the social feeling of mankind--"the desire to be in unity with our fellow creatures..."; that is, our natural tendency to live as social creatures.  It is unnatural for us to live outside of a social context.

It's hard to dispute that we are social creatures but some people might reply that our natural tendency toward social living doesn't necessarily entail utilitarianism.  An egoist or social contract theorist might say, for example, that social living just means that I have to abide by certain conventions if I want to get out of life what I want but still avoid (external) sanctions.

Mill further argues that social living is impossible unless the members regard everyone's interests to be equal.  People grow up with the understanding that they have to include the interests of others when/before they act.  They learn not to injure others.  In instances of cooperation they learn that interests can be mutual and that our own well being is often bound up in that of others.  He goes on to paint a very pretty picture:

Not only does all strengthening of social ties, and all healthy growth of society, give to each individual a stronger personal interest in practically consulting the welfare of others, it also leads him to identify his feelings more and more with their good, or at least with an even greater degree of practical consideration for it.

Under these conditions he will, as a matter of habit, consider the good of others in his actions.  Once he has this feeling he will want to demonstrate it, and encourage it in others.  And even if he doesn't have utilitarian sentiments, for his own self-interest he will want others to be utilitarians because he will benefit.  Before long and by this process the utilitarian meme takes over the society, removing sources of opposition and "leveling those inequalities of legal privilege between individuals or classes".

Here's the really interesting thing.  In a way Mill was right.  Empirical evidence suggests that most people think like utilitarians (however, it varies between cultures and contexts).  Also, that in groups where there are strong social ties members do tend to consider the happiness of the other members in their moral calculus.  As the intellectual underpinnings and the utilitarian feelings of the individual grow, he will oppose socio-economic and socio-political structures that prevent others from having the benefits he has.  Through this mechanism the moral community grows in number.

Basically, once you go utilitarian you never go back cuz it just feels sooooo natural.  When you accept utilitarianism into your heart it is not as "a law despotically imposed by the power of society, but as an attribute which is would not be well for them to be without".  Utilitarianism, once embraced, works in harmony with external or internal motives to care for others.  When external sanctions fail to motivate, the utilitarian ethic will provide internal motivation (sense of duty) to consider the happiness of others (in proportion to the extent to which to agent is utilitarian).

Sounds nice, doesn't it?

Moral Music: Guest Blogger A. Clapham

“Moral Music”
- A. Clapham

There’s a story from Greece that Athena, goddess of wisdom, took up an aulos (for a picture, look here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aulos ), and began to play. The instrument, however, gave the goddess a flushed expression, as it took a lot of force to play it effectively. Not wanting to tarnish her looks, she tossed the aulos aside, and a satyr named Marsyas stumbled upon it. He became a master at the instrument and soon challenged Apollo to a music contest. Apollo, also a deity associated with wisdom, was the patron god of the arts, and he was known for his skill at the lyre, a stringed instrument resembling a modern-day harp. It is a mistake to challenge the gods – a wild act of hubris. Even Achilles, a demi-god himself, was almost killed by a lowly river-god during the Trojan War. But Apollo accepted the challenge with two stipulations: the Muses, the goddesses of artistic inspiration, would judge the contest, and the winner could do whatever he wanted to with the loser. Marsyas foolishly accepted, and he lost. As a punishment for challenging him, Apollo tied Marsyas to a tree and peeled off all his flesh.


This may seem like a strange story to have in mind when thinking about the philosophy of music, but Plato certainly had it in his mind when he wrote his political work, Republic. This text was written in a highly original way: as a dialogue between people, who try to figure out what “justice” is and what the ideal city would be like. In Book III there is a curious section where Socrates, the main character, tells his friends that certain instruments and certain songs should be banned from the perfect city. Among those things rejected from the city is the satyr’s trademark instrument: the aulos.
There are many theories about why Plato bans certain types of music from the city, and the fact that he wrote so little about music does not help turn speculation into something solid. But the interpretation I would like to offer is something that is foreign to a modern mind: music and justice have something to do with each other. Ordinarily, we do not think that the type of music we listen to has any bearing on our moral character. For example, if a group of people listen to blues music, we don’t naturally infer a certain moral superiority or inferiority; so we may wonder why Plato would think this way. I propose that we look at a key feature of justice in the Republic, the opposition to “overreaching,” which will help us understand why Plato thought of justice and music together, and why the myth of Marsyas is so relevant to his political thought.


In some ways, classicists find the notion of justice in Plato’s writings to be just as elusive and controversial as music is, but the advantage of talking about this ancient notion of justice is that we have much more to say about it because Plato wrote quite a bit on the topic. Scholars generally agree that “moderation” is a key feature of justice in the Republic, which is in opposition to an often-used word pleonektein, the effect of continually trying to outdo others by getting and having more and more. In fact, a theme throughout the book is how overreaching can cause disastrous effects, not only for the individual, but for the entire city. And this desire to outdo others is the exact cause of injustice in Book 1 (359c).


As it turns out, the exact type of music the character, Socrates, praises in Book III is music that inspires moderation in people: “Leave me, then, these two modes, which will best imitate the violent or voluntary tones of voice of those who are moderate and courageous, whether in good fortune or in bad” (399c). Now, we can see why the other instruments are banned: they do not inspire moderation or courage. Furthermore, the meaning of the myth should become clearer: certain types of music have an association with wild and brash behavior. Even Apollo, who does not play the aulos himself, hears the flute music and overreacts when he wins the competition. He is unjust to Marsyas because he acts out of anger and impulse. So much for the god of wisdom. The makers of the myth must have thought that certain kinds of music just bring out the worst in us, while other kinds have a positive impact on our actions. And this message seems to be one that Plato endorses.


Yet, in order to hold this kind of view, one must have a certain perspective on music and what it does to the listener. Here, Peter Kivy, a philosopher who specializes in music, is helpful. In his book, “An Introduction to the Philosophy of Music,” he argues that Plato believes that music actually causes the person to have the emotions that the piece represents: “Plato can be taken, and was, by many, to have claimed that, in general, melodies have the power to arouse emotions in listeners by representing the manner in which people express them in their speech and exclamations” (16). That is to say, if a person hears a piece of music that is particularly angry, then that person will become angry, and the music has the power to do this because it imitates the speech of angry people.


Some of the larger issues here, such as whether or not lyrical music actually causes us to have the emotions that music represents, cannot be answered in this short space, mainly because they are still issues that are debated among philosophers today. But, I think that the idea that music actually causes us to have the emotions it represents does not seem intuitive. We would find it strange if a friend pointed to someone on the street and said, “That girl is an angry person because she listens to punk music.” A more typical way of thinking about music for modern people is to think of it as a kind of disinterested activity, where a person is either refined or uncultivated if he or she listens to a certain type of music. So instead we might hear our friends say of someone, “That girl has good taste, she listens to classical music.”


If music, however, is a disinterested activity, where listening to a particular piece or genre only reflects on a person’s taste, then the link between music and justice seems to be broken. If we remove the moral component from music, then talking about the “music of a justice society” seems absurd, after all, we don’t think of justice as a matter of taste. If someone does something good, we don’t comment on how refined their sense of justice is, we simply say they are moral or good or just.


Perhaps there is a way to save this link between justice and music. If music does not directly cause emotions in us, it at least represents those emotions in some capacity. Maybe the ability to recognize and appreciate different emotions in music has something to do with our ability to sympathize with others. If we assume that the emotions are “in” the music, then a person with a refined musical taste would have a greater ability to sympathize with people than with others who do not have
such complex and deep musical palates. An argument could be made, from this perspective, that a just person is one who can sympathize well with others, and having a refined taste in music could help with his or her being a more just person.


But before we discard pop music in favor of Borodin and Rimsky, we should consider that if it is true that a person has a great skill in recognizing the emotions in music this does not mean that that ability automatically translates to an ability to recognize emotions in people. People express themselves differently than music expresses itself. People can express themselves through music, but this is a technical means of expression. At this point I am reminded of the Muses from the Greek myth I began with. They have the best musical palates of any living creature, and they rightly recognized Apollo as the master of music over Marsyas. Yet, they did not make a peep when he tortured the poor satyr. Thus, this story, though it is old, has a deep resonance for the ancients and for ourselves, and the relationship between music and justice is just as complex and elusive as the meaning of the myth.



The translation of Plato comes from G.M.A. Grube’s edition of the “Republic.” For more information about the Philosophy of Music, Peter Kivy’s book is highly accessible. There is also a helpful article in the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (plato.stanford.edu [search “music”]). For more information about Plato’s “Republic” the Cambridge Companion series puts out an edition specifically on that dialogue, and there is also a more broad collection of essays on Plato’s thought, though neither has an article on music. For more information about Greek myth, I recommend Ovid’s great poem “Metamorphoses,” which is our primary source for many of the myths that we know about today. Edith Hamilton also has a book called “Mythology,” which is helpful for anyone interested in what are considered the “canonical myths” in the Western tradition, though the majority of these will be found in Ovid.