Consequentialism, Utilitarianism, and Deontology: a discussion in moral philosophy

Hey y'all, Pez here. Today, we're diving into the ever-complicated nuances of morality. The beauty and struggle of this is that often, there is no "right" school of thought we must subscribe to. Often, it's a mix of both. And even more often, it's a mix of our hypocrisies and biases that unfortunately make up our moral mosaics. Well, that's the nature of being human, or a thinking thing, as our good friend Descartes likes to put it. I feel, that the fact we have the privilege and capacity to ruminate on these things is beautiful in and of itself.

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In regard to moral philosophy, deontology and consequentialism are two of the major schools of thought. The former holds that the moral goodness of actions are judged according to a stringent set of rules, wherein the intention of such action is considered, rather than their outcomes. Under deontology, 18th century German philosopher Immanuel Kant conceived the theory of Kantianism, one which evaluates the virtue of an action by whether its intention adheres to the “categorical imperative”. Contrastingly, the latter, consequentialism, disregards the intention of the action – and perhaps, at times, even the action itself – thereby solely judging an action’s moral goodness in terms of its consequences. 18th century English philosopher Jeremy Bentham is the founder of act utilitarianism, a consequentialist theory; he states that the “fundamental axiom” of act utilitarianism is “the greatest happiness of the greatest number that is the measure of right and wrong.” To engage with the topic, one can define “an effective tool” (for moral decision making) as a theory that provides universal and indiscriminate application, consistency, pragmatism, societal functionality, and happiness. So, then, whilst Kantianism provides a more objective and logical theory, I side with the more pragmatic act utilitarianism as the more effective tool for moral decision making in the real world.

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Bentham, through act utilitarianism, suggests that utilitarianism is a fruitful system for moral decision making, as it holds that pleasure is the final goal of every endeavour. Naturally, most actions that one performs are for the pursuit of a beneficial consequence; person X may study hard because they pursue a desirable degree, person Y may buy a woman a drink because he pursues her romantically. Further questioning of these desires – ‘why does X want that degree?’ – results in a cascade of questions, all of which inevitably result in: ‘I perform action X because I think it will make me happy’. So, Bentham concludes that happiness is the most “basic” desire that is innate to all humans, something that has “sovereign master[ry]” over us. Therefore, because the pursuit of pleasure is a common experience inherent to everyone, Bentham applies it as a gauge to judge each action on the degree of happiness they produce. Thus, he posits that promoting the maximum production of pleasure for the maximum amount of people should be the cornerstone for our moral decision making. More specifically, act utilitarianism is purely concerned with choosing the action that maximises happiness on a ‘case by case’ basis, rather than considering further nuances. Namely, it disregards the notion of sacrificing an immediately pleasurable action for a more general benefit of a society later, something more characteristic of rule utilitarianism. Having established the fundamental notions of utilitarianism, Bentham attempts to quantify such pleasure through the felicific calculus. This rule of measurement establishes a set of criteria that measures the value of pleasure: “intensity”, “duration”, “relatability”, “propinquity”, “repetition”, “fecundity”, “purity”, “extent”. An action that is most pleasurable would satisfy all the criterion: a long-lasting intense pleasure, that is easily accessible, which has a high chance of leading to other similar pleasures, whilst minimising the possibility of pain. And all of which, at the crux of utilitarianism, must be for the maximum amount of people. So, Bentham believes that this almost ‘mathematical’ consideration of pleasure is “perfectly conformable to”, as it provides an objective metric, through which we can quantify the differing degree of pleasures. For example, consuming cocaine may fulfil the requirement of “intensity”, but the ‘comedown’ from the drug undermines the “propinquity” and “fecundity” of the criteria. So, an act utilitarian would, for example, prioritise sexual intercourse; it fulfils almost all of the criterion, namely the “intensity” and “fecundity”, as perhaps the refractory period helps cultivate non-sexual intimate moments with a loved partner, which produces longer lasting happiness. Ultimately, Bentham maintains that act utilitarianism is an effective tool for moral decision making, as a result of its intuitiveness, accessibility, and calculability.

Bentham, though, fails to consider the impossibility of trying to distinctly quantify, or even define something as ethereal as pleasure. How can we even begin to define what happiness is? If we, hypothetically, establish that the feeling of happiness is often a positive response to an arbitrary stimulus - be it corporeal or incorporeal - then we must also posit that the stimulus itself will vary for everyone, and so will its emotional potency. Even then, “positive” is ambiguous, as the range of such an emotion is diverse enough that it can only be defined vaguely. So, this creates a problem, as it becomes impossible to compare moral decisions if the potential stakeholders in such decisions have different quantifications of what pleasure is. Bentham’s felicific calculus attempts to reconcile this, but even still, the “criterion” is both impractical in real world use - going through all the criterion each time - and also has the same problem of the variability of pleasure. Further, the famous trolley problem evinces another criticism: the requirement of absolute knowledge, which is obviously impossible. The utilitarian would obviously pull the lever to kill the one person in sacrifice for the five. However, how does the utilitarian know if that would bring about the greatest net gain? For all the person knows, the one sacrifice could be a scientist on the brink of curing cancer, and the five others could be ardent neo-Nazis. In that case, killing the one would obviously produce a net suffering. Therefore, the general criticism is that the utilitarian must have enough knowledge that he can quantify the net happiness/suffering of every action and the consequences they bring - otherwise, they would never know which action would produce the greatest amount of happiness. And even more so, the idea of metrically measuring happiness is absurd. Let us define the death of a human as X, and a headache as Y. Obviously, X would produce a much greater suffering than Y. Two cases of Y would also produce a lot less suffering than X. If this continues on, there must be a point in which the suffering produced by Y exceeds that of X. So in that case, if we could hypothetically remedy one of them, would we choose to resolve an arbitrary amount of headaches over saving the life of one person? It seems, then, that the act utilitarian is morally obligated to do so – but clearly, there is something deeply wrong about it. So, it seems that utilitarianism’s fluidity can obviously lead to permitting moral atrocities, which, despite its practicality generally, is a major caveat of the doctrine.

Kant takes a more rationally grounded route by stating that one must stringently follow the “categorical imperatives”, as they are derived from pure reason, which morally obligates us to comply with them. He states that these are “commands” that are not contingent on desire - if I want money, then I will work - but rather they are dependent on moral duty, something that logically binds us all, unconditional to how we feel. To clarify his argument, Kant devised two main formulations of the categorical imperative. The first formulation is the universalizability principle: “Act only according to that maxim which you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law without contradiction.” This formulation asks us to consider the general rule, the “maxim”, that undergirds every action we partake in. For example, the general maxim in taking more Halloween candy than you are permitted to is ‘stealing’. So, when one performs such an action, they “will”, or approve, of the maxim of stealing. But, most saliently, Kant states that such approval “universalise[s]” this action; and, because the categorical imperative states that all must morally comply, it deduces that everyone must always steal, no matter how they feel or what the circumstance is. And, for an action to be morally permissible, it must also not contradict itself. In our ‘Halloween candy’ scenario, because stealing is the overarching maxim, it is impossible to “will” universally as it is self-defeating. For someone to steal, it requires them to thieve an object from someone’s possession. But, if everyone must steal, then ownership would not exist as there would be nothing to steal in the first place, which would therefore deduce that stealing is not universalizable: thus, it is morally wrong. Helping an old lady cross the street, though, is morally permissible; the general maxim is helping someone in need, and if everyone did so, it would make the world a much better place and would not be contradictory or self-defeating. The second formulation is the ‘formula of humanity’: “Act so that you treat humanity, whether in your own person or in that part of another, always as an end, and never as a mere means.” By this, Kant asks us to understand that every individual, “humanity”, has their own interests - these interests form part of the intrinsic “autonomy” that humans have, which is each individual’s “end”. And so, we must never impinge upon their interests by manipulating them as a “means”, solely to benefit our selfish “end”. Thus, Kant concludes that humans have absolute moral worth, and that using people as tools for yourself infringes upon their interests, which violates their absolute moral worth. Of course, Kant does not mean we cannot use people for our own ends, that would be absurd - just not merely for our ends, or such that it is pervasive on their autonomy. For example, if I go to a coffee shop and order a coffee, I am not using the barista as a mere means to an end. This is because it is his job, and there is a degree of active consent and willingness to serve people coffee. Both parties are respecting each other's autonomy, whilst also using each other for their ends. However, lying is never morally permissible: the victim you deceive cannot make an “autono[mous]” decision on how to act, because their choice is grounded on false information, which offends the second formulation. Therefore, Kant intimates that his doctrine is most effective for moral decision making due to its reliance on rigid logic and objective reasoning, instead of the ambiguous “pleasure” that utilitarianism is predicated on.

However, Kantianism, at times, contradicts itself and creates scenarios in which both choices are wrong under its doctrine, and, perhaps, the philosophy is often too rigid for real-world application. To explain this, consider the following scenario: a convicted murderer arrives at your door, and states that he is here to kill your mother, asking you if you are cognisant of her location. You know that she is in the living room, but, obviously, you are vehemently against telling the murderer the truth. So, you lie and say that she is at the supermarket. Kant would mark you as morally tainted, as lying is not universalizable; lying requires truth to give its meaning, and if everyone must lie, then there would be no truth which would result in the nonexistence of lying, resulting in a contradiction. However, the formulation of humanity contradicts this. If you tell the truth, satisfying the universalization principle, you are actively infringing upon the best interests and autonomy of your mother - her desire and right to live - just to satisfy the first principle, which is your “end” to stay morally pure. If I lie, as explained, it is also not morally permissible: therefore, this scenario seems to be contradictory within kantianism, in which both choices lead to moral impurity. This notion of lying extends to pragmatic application, as the truth may not always be the best choice. People tell euphemisms or ‘white lies’ to dampen criticism - which fulfils the intention of giving criticism - or a father may tell his child that ‘mother went away for a while’, while in fact she died. Both situations employ lying, but perhaps it is the best option to preserve a greater goodness; such a conclusion is reminiscent of utilitarianism, in which minor wrong of lying is intentionally received in the hopes of gaining a ‘better’ general outcome. Therefore, although Kantianism seems logical and objective in theory, its lack of nuance renders it impractical for real world application.

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Overpopulation is a contentious topic in our modern society, one that has implications in both philosophy and pragmatic implementation. An example of this in the past is the one child policy, a chinese government initiative that was implemented in the late 1970s, in the hopes of containing China’s burgeoning population - as the name suggests, family units could only have a maximum of one child. Many at the time disagreed, protesting that it was a restriction of freedom - such an idea would align with kantian values. Kant would engage with the issue with fervent disapproval, as in limiting the amount of children one can have, the overarching maxim is restricting the autonomy of humans. It does not fulfil the universalizability principle; if everyone’s freedoms must be always restricted, then there would be no freedom left, which means that there is nothing left to restrict. Kant would conclude that such an action is morally wrong as it is self-defeating. Proponents of the rationale had a more utilitarian inclined view. If the population grows too quickly, Earth would have insufficient resources to maintain a decent quality of life for all its inhabitants, and would thus gradually diminish the livelihood of all to compensate for the growing population. So, Bentham would support the policy, stating that the suffering of the newborns, and those already living, in a world lacking sufficient resources would produce a net suffering when compared with restricting the population. He would intimate that because families are still permitted to have one-child, the suffering that such restriction entails is dampened, whilst the net pleasure for having sufficient resources - in sustenance of the general population, so that they may live more comfortably - far outweighs the former.

Overall, both kantianism and act utilitarianism provide compelling arguments for its effectiveness in moral decision making, but both suffer from problematic pitfalls. Kantianism provides rigid logic for its moral doctrines, which is simultaneously its strength and weakness. Because it is extremely inflexible, it has clear, objective axioms that one must follow, and its justification for such - first and second principles - are intuitive and reasonable. At the same time, it is perhaps too rigid for real world application, where its rigidity is at times, apathetic to situations in which a moral wrongdoing in sacrifice of a greater good is just the “right thing to do”, as a human. This idea speaks to act utilitarianism, in which it does consider these nuances and allows its proponents to choose the moral action on a “case-by-case” basis, permitting a flexibility that is pragmatic. Similar to kantanism, though, its strength is often its weakness, as it is this very flexibility that renders it ambiguous at times, permitting morally questionable things under one’s own definition of happiness and suffering. Overall, I resonate with the doctrine of utilitarianism for its pragmatism and accessibility in the real world; although, I still appreciate the uncompromising logic of kantianism in select circumstances.