An essay on John Stuart Mill and Utilitarianism
John Stuart Mill was an British social philosopher who was an apologist for Utilitarianism, but whose writing goes beyond (and arguably eclipses) that school of thought. As a normative moral philosophy, Utilitarianism has its origins in the work of fellow British philosopher Jeremy Bentham, before arguably reaching its apogee in the writing of Mill. Bentham sought to create a moral calculus which was strictly scientific and mathematical, free of personal and abstruse interpretations of right and wrong, which instead would be clearly and objectively determined by the empirical observation of outcomes. As a moral and political philosophy, Utilitarianism is concerned with how human beings can live together well, and as a mathematical formula it is concerned with maximizing the best results and minimizing the worst for the greatest number of people. Bentham saw human life as driven by the pursuit of pleasure and avoidance of pain, and along with the numbers of people affected, used this as the basis for the cost/benefit analysis that would yield the correct moral conclusion.
Mill was a devoted adherent of Bentham’s, yet he was aware of the problems in his theory, and so set out to make it more sophisticated. In so doing, he not only refined the philosophy of Utilitarianism, but broke new ground in the battle for both individual rights and the collective good, combining strains of thinking which we often see hopelessly at odds today. It is the totality of his work and how it weaves together disparate strains, rather than simply his contribution to Utilitarianism, that distinguishes Mill. One might instead look at utilitarianism as a foundation and springboard for Mill’s singular contribution to political philosophy.
Mill recognized that Utilitarianism as defined by Bentham was crude and mechanistic, and contained disturbing implications if left unrefined. A devotee of Socratic reasoning, Mill saw that Utilitarianism lacked a sufficient philosophical and moral framework. His contribution is referred to as Rule Utilitarianism, an approach which aims to frame the calculus of utilitarianism within a set of guiding moral principles. This is in contrast to Bentham’s Act Utilitarianism, which in its approach of evaluating the correctness of acts in isolation, is by design little more than an algorithm.
Mill’s framework expands on a number of ideas in utilitarianism. Answering the charge that the quantitative emphasis on pleasure treats human beings as no different than animals, Mill added a distinction between “higher” (intellectual/aesthetic/emotional) pleasures and lower (sensual) ones. The former, being unique to humankind, he deemed superior. This is based not on utilitarianism, but on humanism, which Mill may have seen as a prerequisite, without which it would seem impossible to have clarity about what actually constitutes positive outcomes for human beings. In his addition of the qualitative to the quantitative, Mill is challenging Utilitarianism’s interpretation and subjectivity-free design. For Mill, outcomes are still the guiding principle, but math alone isn’t enough.
Perhaps the key flaw Mill perceived in Utilitarianism is that in its imperative to produce the greatest happiness for the greatest number, there is no protection of the minority or the individual from being sacrificed for the supposed needs of the many, and in actuality this imperative would make any such treatment more likely, if not inevitable. This lead Mill, an exponent of collectivist ideas, to put forth a historic defense of individual rights. He would go on to, among other things, inveigh against the tyranny of the majority; to declare that no individual should be sacrificed for the society; and proclaim the right of an individual to do anything so long as it does not harm anyone else. He would, with the help of his romantic and intellectual partner Harriet Taylor, be in the vanguard of a movement calling for women’s rights in a time where these were nonexistent. These ideas were instigated by his Utilitarian views, either because they were consistent with them or as an attempt to respond to critics. But in the end, Mill’s philosophy is more noteworthy in and of itself than in its contribution to Utilitarianism.
By drawing a distinction between different sorts/levels of pleasures (and by extension, pains) Mill attempts a more nuanced understanding of the relevant factors necessary to a correct Utilitarian analysis. However, not only does it not address the underlying problems at the heart of the theory, it cannot succeed on its own terms. Life (and the human being especially) is too complex to reduce each dimension of it into mathematical units. Mill makes a solid point in his argument that morality and pleasure are not by nature opposed, but he cannot prove what is the substance of happiness, let alone that it can be achieved through an algorithmic process. To this day, there is still no clear agreement as to what happiness is or what is the key to it. It is certainly correlated with pleasure, but it is likely far more than that. As I see it, a person cannot be happy without pleasure, but they can have pleasure without being happy. Regardless, Mill’s defense of individual and minority rights and protections is commendable but in terms of Utilitarianism is treating a symptom rather than the problem.
In my view, Utilitarianism is morally defective not in parts but at its core, something no one is capable of fixing. Mill’s work does fix or refine elements of it but does not and cannot change its essential nature. Utilitarianism as a methodology may have its uses in particular moments, but as a guiding moral philosophy it is fatally flawed in what it contains, what it lacks, and how it is operationally incompatible with human nature. There are three related ethical and philosophical problems at the crux of utilitarianism that, to me, make it ethically unsuitable.
The first is that, because it rejects intrinsic rights and wrongs and counts only outcomes as important, it can have no moral absolutes or limits. Most morality may be contextual, but it is not always so, and those instances where it is not are essential. Firm moral limits must exist, because if there is nothing we won’t do, there is everything we will do. There must, in my view, be a shared understanding that certain acts are so cruel and abhorrent that they can never be considered by a society which has any business maintaining its existence. Moral absolutes are absolutely necessary, as a way to have limits and to maintain a baseline level of moral clarity and humanity in the populace. If anything at all can be countenanced, the participation and sanctioning of acts without any limits will poison the atmosphere of the society, creating a jaded, morally depraved populace.
Utilitarianism’s ethical vacuity stems from its very design, as an operational philosophy which aims to determine right and wrong through numerical calculation alone. That the other faculties and inventions of the human being are set aside is part of its design, but while it is true that they can have elements of the subjective and produce wildly different conclusions, they are still necessary, just as the arm cannot do the job of the foot. I am sympathetic to the prizing of empiricism over rationalism; verifiable proof is more solid than theory alone. Yet in the realm of ethics, empiricism is insufficient without moral understanding, something Mill tried to add to utilitarianism. The problem is, they simply do not mesh. Utilitarianism is clearly a substitute for moral philosophy rather than a branch of it. As an ethical methodology it has has been correctly described as bloodless and cold, and there are a number of problems related to this. Pursuant to my point about moral absolutes, utilitarianism dismisses humanity’s intuitive understanding of right and wrong, the experience of morally relevant emotions which, while subject to some level of social conditioning, are not entirely socially constructed. In essence utilitarianism dismisses the relevance and usefulness of the conscience, a stance I utterly reject. Elements of the personal are necessary to ethical reasoning. Furthermore, psychology has shown us (such as in studies done with psychopaths) that reason alone is not sufficient for ethical behaviour. There must be emotional dimensions and prompts for human beings to live ethically and responsibly. It is one thing to know; it is another thing to understand and to care.
This brings me to the last of the three problems, and arguably Utilitarianism’s fatal flaw, as in the end it is defeated by its inability to fulfill its own rationale. Utilitarianism demands both pure objectivity and a completely accurate evaluation of the quantitative (and in Mill’s view, qualitative) factors relevant to the outcome.Yet we are unable to know when we are using pure utilitarian calculation or when our personal baggage is affecting or dictating the result. Especially without the clarifying structure of moral limits, one can easily rationalize anything based on a trumped up belief of the greater good. Perhaps that is not the fault of utilitarianism, but it is a trap which it can enable. In the end, Utilitarianism is not viable as a guiding method because it is not suited for human beings, and in its attempts to make outcomes free from subjective interpretation, it can’t even succeed on its own terms, because we can still be wrong using only its methods.
This is not to say that utilitarianism’s methods can never be considered as a tool for a particular situation. I use cost/benefit analyses frequently, but only in situations which have a minor result. The usefulness of methods such as cost/benefit analyses in determining effectiveness and efficiency in health care systems and the like underscores utilitarianism’s effectiveness not at moral reasoning but at finding the best course of action after the moral problem has been solved or is no longer relevant. It may also provide the best option in extreme situations where raw numbers of casualties are imminent, such as pandemics. One could say that it is in this awful eventuality that this calculus should be employed. Yet I also wonder if that is when it should be most firmly resisted.
By adding a philosophical framework, Mill’s work may have undermined, rather than strengthened, the very purpose for which utilitarianism was created. Bringing philosophical principles into utilitarianism comes dangerously close to removing its reason for existing. To me, The implication of Mill’s work is that utilitarianism is by nature insufficient, since the rationale behind it is intended to replace subjective or unpredictable rationalism with empirical data. This is why, in my view, Mill is less interesting as a utilitarian than he is as a contributing thinker to a mix of other ideologies. In the end, I don’t think Mill failed in his attempts to make utilitarianism philosophically and ethically sound; I think utilitarianism failed him. It is too broad, ethically dubious and anti-rational for as philosophical a man as John Stuart Mill turned out to be. Yet perhaps it didn’t fail him entirely. Ultimately, utilitarianism prompted Mill to write groundbreaking apologetics for both the common good and the protection of the individual and minority. Without utilitarianism’s belief that no individual is better or worse than another, both social democratic and libertarian thought would be poorer. Mill’s work was groundbreaking then, and if anything is more relevant now, both in its utility and, in totality, in its ethical quality.
